Work Text:
i. indirect
Yeon has his head against the table when someone taps his shoulder. Turning his head, he sees Eyla sipping some boba and looking at the long list of DEFEATs on Yeon's computer screen. "Bad games, huh?"
"People need to stop fucking trolling my games," Yeon groans, sinking into his chair. "My support was griefing me so fucking hard, it was the shittiest Nautilus I've ever—"
Eyla sticks the straw into his mouth. "If you're done being toxic," he says wryly, "you can have some of my oreo boba."
"It doesn't even have boba," Yeon grumbles, but he drinks it anyway.
ii. cheek
It started when they won Proving Grounds for the first time. Yeon didn't think much of it at the time, because it didn't even happen again until they won the second time. Then Eyla left the team, Yeon stayed, and that should have been the end of it.
But it became a common occurrence. Eyla would say, "Good luck," press his lips against Yeon's cheek, and leave without any explanation. Sometimes it's before a game. Sometimes it's after. Sometimes it doesn't happen at all.
At some point, Yeon stopped looking for a pattern. He just waits for it to come.
iii. fingertips
"It's so fucking cold," Yeon complains, kicking the snow beneath him. "My hands are freezing."
Eyla raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Shouldn't have forgotten your gloves, then."
Yeon ignores him, breathing on his hands and rubbing them together to generate warmth, though it's to little success. Just as he is about to give up, Eyla leans down and kisses the tips of his fingers.
"Better?" he asks.
Yeon gapes at him. Coherent thoughts fail to form in his brain. "Only my fingertips," he blurts out.
Eyla sighs, but a smile tugs the corner of his lips. "Let's get you some gloves."
iv. forehead
It is only after Yeon types goldfish. into Sniper's chat that Eyla says, "Stop bullying our kid."
Yeon looks at him, grinning. "You don't think I should tell him he bought two pinks when he buys two pinks?"
"Well," Eyla starts, glancing over towards Sniper's stream, "—what the fuck was that ward placement?"
"Ahhh, so that's why he bought two." Eyla flicks his forehead. "Ow!"
"No bullying," he says. "That's my team's job."
"Joking, joking," Yeon concedes, laughing. "That hurt, though."
Eyla rolls his eyes, brushing the place he flicked with a kiss before he types something in chat, too.
v. lips
Yeon sits close beside Eyla on the rooftop. The moonlight seems to reveal everything: the proximity of their hands, the sparkle in Eyla's eyes, the rapid pounding of Yeon's heart.
"It's beautiful," Eyla remarks, looking up at the moon.
"Yeah," Yeon breathes, looking at Eyla. "It really is."
Eyla turns towards him. At that moment, he looks like he could read Yeon's every wish, every thought. Maybe he does, because his cheeks are dusted pink as he smiles and tucks a strand of Yeon's hair behind his ear and says, softly, "Kiss me."
And Yeon leans forward, doing exactly that.