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Junhui finishes the last of four hops, placing the yellow peg in his home corner with a sense of satisfaction. He tucks the back of his hand against his neck, supporting his jaw with one elbow, and says “Go ahead.”
While most of Minghao's red pegs have made it all the way over to his target corner, he's also left two pieces stranded behind the centre, a gulf of space between them and the home they need to reach. To Junhui's left, Mingyu has most of his green pieces stuck in his original corner, too busy trying to get his first peg ahead, while forgetting about its companions and leaving them behind. As a result, Junhui feels pretty good about his position. He's got the board in front of him set up in a way that he can hop his pieces home without wasting moves on single steps, and mostly over his own pieces so no one else can trip him up or take away his openings. He's played Chinese checkers enough times since his early childhood to know the value of strategy, as opposed to Minghao, who's simply had luck on his side.
Although, Minghao also has a pretty clear route in front of him.
“What's taking you so long? Just go~” Junhui whines. He turns his head, blinking as he tries to figure out why Minghao won't just take the single jump when it's clearly the best move for him, and he ends up noticing Minghao give Mingyu a sly look. The smile on his lips is playful, his eyes unblinking, and as soon as Mingyu meets his eyes, Minghao bursts into laughter, a quick string of snickers that he stifles with one hand.
“No!” Mingyu protests, hand lowering with his jaw as he forms the word. “Stop!” His eyes become large and round, and Junhui stares down at their pieces, understanding dawning as to why Minghao's laughing. Minghao, with one step, can cut off the hop sequence Mingyu's been trying to set up. It's a little cruel, considering how far behind Mingyu is compared to everyone else in the first place, but it would be a really sneaky roadblock, and Junhui is impressed despite himself.
“Stop what?” Minghao asks, faking innocence. The tone of his voice is belied by the message written across his face in the shape of his mouth resting in a half grin and his eyes sparkling playfully.
By way of response, he receives a glare from Mingyu, who opens his mouth and does nothing but huff. Mingyu sticks up the index finger of his resting arm and wags it pleadingly. “Just once, let me off. Please, I'm begging you, Minghao. Just this once!”
Minghao backs away from the table, adjusts the position of his red hat over his head with feigned disinterest, and shrugs his shoulders. “I don't know what you're talking about.” He blinks quickly, observing Mingyu with wide eyes, before slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He's fooling no one with the oblivious act.
Mingyu untucks his fingers from his chin and places the tips of them against his lower lip, teeth scraping back and forth against the edges of his nails. “If you...If you let me off I'll do anything for you, I promise!” His mouth settles into a pout that, combined with the downcast look on the rest of his face, gives him the appearance of a kicked puppy. He makes a low whining noise in his throat, shakes his bangs out to hang over his eyes, and the transformation is complete. Surely he's too cute for Minghao to say no.
“Any~thing~?” Minghao draws out his vowels. He leans up against the table again, resting two elbows against the lacquered wood to prop up his misleadingly angelic face.
“Anything you want!” Mingyu replies with emphatic nodding. The tip of his tongue sticks out from between his lips and his expression is earnest, albeit somewhat shy.
Mingyu's determination makes Minghao giggle, face open and delighted, eyes curved with fondness. It makes him reach out a hand, pat down his hair with two firm strokes, even if not a strand was ever out of place, and return an equally definitive nod. “Alright then.” He lowers his hand and plucks up a red peg between thumb and forefinger, skips over a green peg, and sets it down. It's slightly off-centre; if they were playing with the marble set that Junhui had at home, the round ball would settle neatly into the grooves of the board, but this old set they found in the props cupboard by chance doesn't have indentations. “I'll take you up on that offer sometime later?” Minghao's voice is light, but there's something about it that sounds like Minghao is twisting a strand of hair around his finger and batting his eyelashes.
It strikes Junhui that what they're doing is flirting. In front of him. Without a care in the world. Flirting.
“Of course,” Mingyu says, and smiles with top teeth digging into his bottom lip. He's laughing too, like he hasn't just promised Our Hellspawn Demon and Satan Incarnate Xu Minghao to do anything for him, just so Mingyu can continue on his long, meandering path toward homing his green checkers pieces. Like Mingyu is excited to do Minghao's bidding, instead of terrified the way he should be.
Junhui shuffles around on his knees, trying to displace the unsettled feeling he has in his stomach at watching his best friend flirt with his best friend's...something friend, both fellow bandmates. Minghao and Mingyu keep darting glances at each other and then looking down with sheepish smiles whenever they catch each other's eyes. They're doing terrible jobs of hiding their snickering, even worse jobs at pretending that they're not purposefully brushing their hands against each other's. Chinese checkers is a game where you take turns, it's not like two people's hands should be over the board at the same time. Between all the looks, and the touching, and the smiling, it's as if Junhui doesn't even exist.
He gets so caught up trying to figure out what he feels, trying to catch the two of them doing their weird mating dance, trying to inform them 'hello, I'm right here!!' that he's distracted from the game altogether. So distracted that he forgets what the word strategy means. So distracted that Minghao somehow gets the upper hand over him, and beats Junhui by a single round. Of course, that also means Mingyu comes last, and his bargain with Minghao amounts to no benefit for him. For some reason though, Mingyu looks exuberant. His posture is ramrod straight, and his skin is glowing. Oh no. Not on Junhui's watch.
“I came so close! I want a rematch!” Junhui demands with exaggerated enthusiasm, leaning forward and forcing his shoulders between Minghao and Mingyu so they're no longer in each other's line of vision, and he flips his head to stare down each of them in turn. His actions are an exercise in futility because Minghao and Mingyu are still looking at each other, through the space under Junhui's chin, sweet smiles on each of their faces. “Helloooooooo,” Junhui whines.
“Yeah, Junie-hyung? Can you come here for a second,” Minghao says sweetly. He doesn't leave it a question, and doesn't gave Junhui options. Junhui falls over from being dragged up by the collar, and Minghao pulls him past the other tables until they're just outside the open door.
“What is it?” Junhui asks brightly. “Scared to play another round because you know you'll lose to me?” Minghao doesn't articulate a response. Instead, he pushes Junhui away by shoving his hands against Junhui's face, moving his head sideways and leaving Junhui flailing his arms with his eyes clamped shut. He can't even scream because one of Minghao's palms is pressed up uncomfortably against his mouth, tugging at the skin so that it's bunched up and Junhui can't open his jaw. Then, the hands disappear, and by the time Junhui's opened his eyes again the door has been pointedly slammed.
Well!
“You're hovering,” Wonwoo says neutrally, not looking up from the book he's reading, one leg stretched in front of him, the other bent at the knee and tucked up all the way against his chest as a makeshift table for whatever novel he's reading now. He's sitting a little ways away down the hallway, probably taking advantage of the quiet here compared to the noisy film set or green room.
“I'm not a helicopter!” Junhui replies, scandalized, shooting a glare through the door as if his eyes could send a laser beam through the wood and carve out a hole for him to step through. If Wonwoo had heard them, then maybe Junhui could also figure out what they were doing as long as he could get the door open again without Minghao noticing.
Very slowly, Wonwoo closes his eyes, turns his head, tilts up his chin in Junhui's general direction, and opens his eyes again to pin Junhui with a look. He purses his lips, blinks, and doesn't flinch at Junhui turning his laser glare on him. “Fwhop-fwhop. Fwhop-Fwhop. I can't hear you over the chopper blades.”
Because Junhui doesn't believe in moral high grounds, he unleashes a tirade of vulgar Chinese insults at Wonwoo, who continues blinking with a complete lack of concern.
“I don't know why you're taking your jealousy out on me.”
“I'm not jealous!” Junhui shouts, too loudly to be believable. “Just because I've said Mingyu's the most handsome member doesn't mean I want to kiss him or something!”
“You said it, not me,” Wonwoo says, scratching at the back of one ear. He uses the same hand to flip the page, but Junhui's distinctly aware that Wonwoo's not been paying attention to the words on the paper.
“The last time I was asked to rank the members by looks, Mingyu didn't even make the top five! I said me, Jeonghan-hyung, Seungcheol-hyung, Jisoo-hyung, and—”
“—And me,” Wonwoo finishes. There's a weirdly suggestive leer on his face as he replaces his bookmark and shuts the hard-cover book in his hands, freeing them so he can rest his chin on one palm and smile beatifically at Junhui.
“What a mistake,” Junhui mutters, “I have many regrets.” He scowls and slides down the wall, legs spread out in front of him while he knocks the back of his head against the drywall behind him. “But my point stands, I don't have feelings for Mingyu!”
“I never said you did.” Wonwoo's grin gets wider. “Who said anything about being jealous of Minghao?”
“Wait, what, you think I'm jealous of Mingyu?” Junhui recoils, placing a hand over his chest, a mixture of horror and disgust flash across Junhui's features.
Wonwoo snorts. “I don't think you want to date Minghao, Junhui-ya, I mean you're jealous that he's paying more attention to other people.”
“That's ridiculous. Minghao's always spent a lot of time with the other members, why would I be jealous about that?”
“It's different, isn't it?” Wonwoo shrugs. “Maybe you're worried that you'll be less important to him now that he's got a romantic interest. Maybe you're worried he'll get hurt. Whatever it is, you're being suffocating, just let them have at it.”
Junhui narrows his eyes, astonishment and outrage quickly replaced by suspicion. “If Mingyu hurts him, I'll kill him. I know wushu. I'll be all 'hwak', 'hi-yah',” Junhui says, miming a swift one-two punch, “and that'll be the end of his life.” He swipes a finger across his neck for good measure, in case Wonwoo hasn't gotten the picture.
“And I know hapkido, so if you try anything, I'll fight you.”
“Remember when Soonyoung said he knew taekwondo and tried it on me and I had him laid out on his back in two second flat?” Junhui asks.
Soonyoung chooses that moment to walk through the hallway, just managing to catch Junhui's vaguely insulting remark. He rolls his eyes and thwacks each of them in the back of the head as he passes by. “Can you two stop your dick measuring competition and get your asses back on set? Also Junhui, first go find Minghao, performance team still has one more group take to do.” He waves one hand at them dismissively and steps through the door to the bathroom, the lock clicking shut behind him.
Wonwoo rolls his eyes. He stage whispers, “I'm not Kwon Soonyoung, I'll fight you and win.”
“Uh…as if. In what universe have you ever won against me in anything?” Junhui rises to his feet, ready to go right now, seriously, he's been itching to land a kick on someone. It's good for relieving stress, and the comeback preparations have made him more stressed out than he's ever been before in his entire life.
Wonwoo jumps up as well, switching his book to the other hand, and takes three large strides so that he's standing in Junhui's space. “Um, like, everything. Seventeen TV season one, I won first in long jump.”
Junhui crosses his arms. “That's one example, and how's that going to help you when we fight? Are you going to leap frog away from me? That'll only make it easier for me to decapitate Mingyu. I have a whole list of categories I win in.”
“Like what?” Wonwoo challenges.
“I'm older.”
“By a month.”
“I'm better at eating spicy food.”
“Debatable.”
“I won that limbo contest.”
“You didn't actually succeed in getting across underneath the rope!”
“I speak Chinese better than you.”
“Do you really want to go there? Do you? Do you want me to tell you my Korean is way better than yours?”
“Fine, my English is better than yours, happy?”
“In your dreams,” Wonwoo spits in English, face so close to Junhui's that Junhui can count his eyelashes, their noses almost touching.
“I'm taller.”
“No you're not!”
“Yes I am!”
Wonwoo's eyes flicker away from Junhui's eyes down to his mouth. “You wanna bet?”
“How much?”
“This much,” Wonwoo says, and then he shoves Junhui backward against the wall, waits for the collision and the rebound, waits for Junhui's mouth to part in order for him to release a sound of surprise, and while Junhui's distracted, Wonwoo takes another step forward and smashes their lips together.
Junhui responds immediately, yanking on the front of Wonwoo’s sweater to pull him closer, and kisses back without any finesse. It’s messy and angry, their noses press against each other, Wonwoo’s foot is on Junhui’s toes, and it’s all around terrible, but then Wonwoo curls his fingers around the flap of Junhui’s jacket, tugs him forward and then slams him back again. While Junhui’s dazed, he tilts his head and cups his other hand around the back of Junhui’s neck and it’s better. In fact, it’s better than better, it’s almost good, okay, it probably is good. Their tongues press together once, twice, and then Junhui pulls away, twisting his neck to once side, and Wonwoo’s left with his face craning forward mostly into Junhui’s hair.
Wonwoo gets pushed back a little, and he looks furious, but then the sound of a door swinging open graces his ears and he pauses.
“Are you two still out here comparing dicks? Let me tell you, I've seen both, Junhui's is bigger, no offence Wonwoo-goon—”
“—Go away, Kwon Soonyoung!” They shout simultaneously, neither looking away from each other, both panting from adrenaline while their hands remain twisted tightly around each other's shirts.
“Sheesh!” Soonyoung puts his hands up. “Look, just find Minghao alright?”
As soon as he’s gone, Junhui says, “Oh, and I’m better at kissing.” He wraps an arm underneath Wonwoo’s shoulder, covers Wonwoo’s mouth with his own again, and Wonwoo can only clutch desperately at Junhui’s jacket again. The corner of Junhui’s lips quirk up, sliding against Wonwoo’s almost gently before their contest for domination gets transferred from using words to using tongues. Is it wrong that Junhui finds this obscenely hot? Junhui catches Wonwoo’s upper lip between his teeth, revels in the involuntary noise Wonwoo makes, and then makes a moaning noise of his own when Wonwoo starts pulling on the hair at the back of Junhui’s skull.
Wonwoo licks a slow stripe along the roof of Junhui’s mouth and Junhui melts a little, can’t do anything while Wonwoo trails open mouthed kisses along his jaw, finishing with a more chaste kiss to Junhui’s cheek. “Somehow, I don’t feel like you winning this particular competition means a huge loss for me,” Wonwoo murmurs, right up against Junhui’s cheekbone, so he can feel the little puffs of air on his skin, the ghost of Wonwoo’s lips haunting him as well.
Junhui shivers slightly, and swats Wonwoo’s face away with one hand. “Let’s go, we’re probably going to get yelled at by hair and make-up as it is.” He swivels on his toes, takes two steps and twists the knob on the door to the green room, opening it in one fluid motion.
A peal of laughter rings out, and Junhui blinks at the scene before him. Mingyu and Minghao had a room to themselves, an indeterminate amount of time, and here they were, having a tickle fight on the floor, rolling each other over in an attempt to get the upper hand. Rolling. And giggling. And tickling each other. Like schoolchildren.
“I’m going to be sick,” Wonwoo says from behind Junhui’s shoulder.
“I’ve already puked into my mouth a little.”
“That’s disgusting, I had my tongue in your mouth three seconds ago.”
“It’s fine if you don’t want to put it back there.”
“In your dreams,” Wonwoo says, again in English. He cups his hands around his mouth to broadcast a message in Korean to Mingyu and Minghao. “Hey, little children, playtime’s over, back to work!”
Minghao looks up from his spot straddled over Mingyu’s hips, and Mingyu uncurls his back, shifts his arms so that they’re no longer protecting his sides.
“We’ll be right there, Wonwoo-hyung!” Mingyu calls cheerily, fending off Minghao poking him with half-hearted slaps.
“Move it,” Wonwoo mutters, dragging Junhui by the wrist and shutting the door behind them again. He grumbles all the way down the hallway back toward the main set. “You need to go rinse out your mouth with copious amounts of toothpaste, and I need to wash that sight out of my memory with copious amounts of brain bleach.”
“Okay,” Junhui acquiesces with a huff after they turn the corner, “after seeing that…Maybe I was a little jealous. Maybe I just wanted to also have a...dude...thing...”
Wonwoo points a thumb back over his shoulder and snorts. “Don't expect me to be pulling that kinda weird stuff with you. If you try to make me giggle like that, I'll fight you.”
“And I'll win,” Junhui replies hotly, hands on his hips.
“No you won't.”
Soonyoung slaps a hand over each of their mouths. “Seriously, do you two ever shut up?!”