Work Text:
The phone rings once. Twice.
On the third ring, Eric, on the other end of the line, tells Jaebeom to go fuck himself. Eric breathes heavily and doesn’t bother hiding a loud yawn. And another one.
“I missed you too,” Jaebeom says, not bothering to hide his smirk, vividly imagining Eric rolling his eyes with fake annoyance. His smile widens.
“What if I was sleeping?”
“Don’t fuck with me, kid.”
Eric grits his teeth, now definitely rolling his eyes. Jaebeom presses the speaker button and reaches for his cigarettes. He taps one from the pack, lights it, and takes a slow drag. Smoke curls from his lips when he speaks again, not letting Eric say something snappy in return. “It’s two forty, Eric. A.M.”
Eric sighs. This one might even be genuine.
“Practice room’s booked till three.”
“What about the hospital? Is that booked too? ‘Cause you’ll need it after you pass out from exhaustion,” Jaebeom says.
“I’ll unbook you if you don’t fuck off,” Eric growls. Jaebeom inhales the smoke and says, “Parking lot. Usual place. You have five minutes.”
Eric slides into the passenger seat twenty-eight minutes late. Jaebeom knows he chose perfecting the moves over a shower.
His windbreaker is unzipped. The neck, the collarbones, and the cheeks are red, and, Jaebeom knows for sure, warm. Sweaty, for sure, and boiling hot to the touch.
Jaebeom is touching. Swipes the wet bangs from Eric's forehead, lightly grazes his left cheek. Fingers caressing the sharpness of his jawline. Jaebeom's fingertips burn. Jaebeom knows it's not because of the hotness of the skin.
"All the ice has melted," Jaebeom says, nodding in the direction of the big Iced Americano cup standing in the cupholder between the two seats. "You look melted too," he adds, trying to hide the concern in his voice, watching the tired Eric in the passenger seat, who doesn’t even try to lock the seatbelt. Eric's long lashes are leaving shadows on his cheekbones, even the redness on his face does not hide the big dark circles under his eyes.
Jaebeom's face screws up. He almost wants to beat the shit out of Sangyeon for not looking out for his members. For not looking out for his maknae. Not almost . He wants to.
“How many hours did you sleep?”
The question is almost rhetorical. Almost doesn’t require an answer, because the actual answer is on Eric’s face, but Eric says, “Six hours.”
Jaebeom can’t help but smirk sardonically. “In the last week?”
“Three days.”
As if it changes something drastically.
Eric is yawning again. And looking straight at Jaebeom, he shifts in his seat so he can press his left knee to the manual transmission of Jaebeom’s car.
“So... the fuck are you doing here?”
Eric downs his coffee in three big gulps. Jaebeom can’t believe this brat. His brows furrow as he considers whether to smack him or pet him like the sulky child he definitely is.
He chooses the latter. He’s hugging Eric by the shoulders, the waist, making him snuggle closer to his chest, pushing his seat back. Jaebeom’s cold hand slides under the hem of Eric’s damp shirt, his fingers caressing the tattoo on Eric’s back.
“So... the fuck are you being a prickly asshole?” Jaebeom whispers right in Eric’s ear with an evident smile in his voice.
The smile widens, because Eric moves closer and pushes his nose into Jaebeom’s neck. “Tired,” he whispers right into his skin. The warm breath is giving Jaebeom goosebumps.
"Let’s get you back to the dorm,” says Jaebeom, his other hand petting Eric’s head like he’s some kind of big fluffy dog.
Calm, steady breathing is his answer. Eric has fallen asleep in seconds.
Jaebeom sighs, hugging the sleeping Eric closer so he can be more comfortable, and closes his own eyes.
When the promotion of The Boyz’s new album is done, Jaebeom is going to take Eric to LA for at least two weeks. Even if Jaebeom does end up needing to beat the shit out of Sangyeon for this.
Even if not only Sangyeon but also some bigheaded asshole in a tailored suit from the fifty-something floor of the company’s building.