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Hwanjoong finds it first.
He yelps, surprisingly high-pitched, frantically back-pedaling away from his computer, scampering toward Wangho and Wooje’s desks. “Snake,” he rushes out, eyes wild. “There's a snake.”
Wangho and Wooje crane their heads to look over at the other end of the room, where yes, there is a long, thin snake curled into a neat spiral in Dohyeon’s chair.
Huh.
Maybe it’s years of experience being the one forced to face-check brushes, or the innate trait of a jungler to be curious to explore the unknown, or simply his own personal lack of self-preservation instinct, but Wangho is the first to walk towards the snake, crouching down near the chair. It’s odd, the last time they’d been this close to a snake in Vietnam, he had been afraid, but this one feels oddly different. “Hey.” He hopes snakes can sense peaceful intentions. “How’d you get in here?”
The snake raises its head, eyes blinking open almost sleepily. It meets Wangho’s gaze, before it startles, head rearing back, mouth opening and tongue flicking out, and maybe Wangho shouldn’t have surprised an unidentified, potentially venomous snake. It doesn’t strike out at Wangho, though, or bite, just makes a soft gasping noise from its mouth.
It looks almost panicked, though Wangho has no idea how he knows that—he’s no expert on animal behavior, especially not snakes, but there’s some gut instinct in him that tells him to reach a hand out in comfort. The snake still doesn’t bite him, although it does lean in, slithering from the chair onto Wangho’s hand, sliding up his wrist, scales smooth against Wangho’s skin, and uh—
Wangho should probably be afraid. Hwanjoong and Wooje are still understandably cautious, leaving him a wide berth, although he can tell Wooje is mustering up the courage to approach. After all, Wangho is the one with a potentially venomous snake wrapped around an arm, a potentially venomous snake slowly climbing its way up toward Wangho's head.
“You're friendly, huh?” Wangho asks, giggling as the snake flicks its tongue out, almost touching Wangho’s nose. “Don't bite me, okay?”
The snake raises its head, body following it up, scrunching up into a shape that almost resembles a question mark. It’s nose-to-nose with Wangho now, its eyes meeting Wangho’s, something oddly warm and sweet to its gaze.
“Hyung,” Wooje says hesitantly. He’s a step closer to Wangho than Hwanjoong—typical top-lane brazenness. “Are you sure that's safe?”
The snake turns towards Wooje, who flinches back, chastised even from a safe distance away. “Never mind,” Wooje mutters. “Do what you like.”
The snake looks a bit put out by the reaction, head drooping a bit as it faces Wangho. Its tongue flicks out again, warm and wet against Wangho's cheek, and he giggles again. Wangho’s really more of a cat person, but this snake is being so affectionate—
“Guys!” He turns to see Geonwoo bursting in through the practice room door panicked and flustered. “Have you seen Dohyeon hyung?”
There’s a gaping moment of silence, when all eyes slowly turn toward Dohyeon’s desk, and then the snake still wrapped around Wangho’s neck. The snake they found on Dohyeon’s chair, the snake that had immediately taken a liking to Wangho, the snake that has been acting extremely un-snakelike, the snake Wangho doesn't have an instinctual fear of.
“Dohyeonnie?” Wangho asks, eyes wide, as he watches the snake—no, the viper—nod its head in agreement. “Oh no.”
-
As captain, Wangho is the one who has to explain what’s happened to the coaches.
“This just sometimes happens,” Wangho says unhappily, scrolling further and further up in the ROX group chat, internally cursing himself for actually following Beomhyun’s instructions about not saving incriminating evidence and we will never speak of this time ever again, like he didn’t have a whole secret album of photos saved somewhere on his phone. “I don’t know why it was only Dohyeonnie this time, but it happened to me before, I swear.”
Inkyu doesn’t look convinced, eyeing Dohyeon skeptically. He also doesn’t step any closer, not with Dohyeon draped around Wangho’s shoulders like a makeshift scarf. “If you wanted a team pet, we could’ve talked about it,” he says placidly. It sounds suspiciously like the tone of voice he gets when he talks about how much he respects other team’s coaches, and of course he likes Sehyeong, his old teammate, what reason would they have to dislike each other? “I’m pretty sure he’s poisonous.”
“And venomous,” Hwanjoong adds from the side. The rest of the team look at him blankly, and he adds, “poisonous to touch and eat. Venomous because he has venom in his fangs.”
This doesn’t clear anything up for any of them, and they continue staring, until Jaeha sighs. “He’s a Tiger Keelback.” He holds up his phone, a photo of a green and orange snake identical to Dohyeon on his screen. “They’re dangerous.”
They all look back to Wangho, whole and well, feeling quite great considering his ADC is now a snake and likely venomous. Even Dohyeon careens back a bit, looking as concerned as a snake could manage with his dark, wide eyes and flickering tongue. “I’m fine,” Wangho says dismissively. He sees a flash of orange and black on his phone and stops scrolling, and maybe—
“See,” he says triumphantly, holding up his phone so the others could see. “I was a tiger. We all were.”
Inkyu doesn’t move any closer, although he does crane his head in and squint his eyes. “Tiger?” he asks. “Not a peanut? Or a small yappy dog?”
“Peanuts aren’t animals,” Geonwoo says helpfully. “You don’t look like a tiger, hyung.”
“You don’t look like anything,” Hwanjoong adds. “Because we can’t see the photo from here.”
Because his team is still nearly six feet away from him with seemingly no intention of ever getting closer, and he sighs. He mentally apologizes to Beomhyun, but sends a series of select pictures to the rest of his team including: Wangho with cat ears, all four of them as tigers sleeping on some body part of Beomhyun, Wangho looking incredibly fierce baring his teeth at the camera, and Kyungho and Seohaeng cuddling together in a perfect disc on a couch.
“You’re cute, hyung,” Wooje says, looking down at his phone in awe. “Are those ears real? They look like a costume.”
Geonwoo and Hwanjoong take that time to coo over as well, shooting smirks at Wangho, and he grimaces. Maybe he shouldn’t have shared that specific photo—Beomhyun already held those hostage over their heads more often than not.
“Okay,” Inkyu says, sounding more tired than usual, which was difficult considering how tired he sounded at baseline. “Okay, fine. How long did it take to turn back?”
Wangho thinks, estimating, “A week or so?” It had been a weird time—one that he and his teammates had tried to move on from as quickly as possible. There hadn’t even been many changes, honestly, other than Kyungho and Seohaeng shooting Beomhyun sly, speculative glances more often than before.
Inkyu sighs again, looking down at his watch as if he could will time to move faster. “A week,” he says wearily. “Okay.” He looks back up at Wangho, eyes flicking to Dohyeon as well. “You’re in charge of him,” he says. “Whatever food he needs, or—or lamps, or a cage. Whatever. We’ll expense it.” Jaeha pats him on the back, and Inkyu brings a hand up to his face to rub furiously at his forehead. “Fuck.”
He should probably feel bad for how much distress this is obviously bringing his coaches, but Wangho is too busy laughing as Dohyeon nuzzles his face again. Beomhyun managed to corral four kittens all by himself, how difficult could one snake be?
-
Dohyeon really is incredibly cute in this form—not that he isn’t cute as a human, too—with a green back and white belly, cross-hatching black and orange spots along his front third. He’s long and skinny, nearly two feet in length, although he seems shorter, curled up as he likes to be around Wangho’s limbs, a comfortable weight around Wangho’s shoulders more akin to a heavy scarf than anything.
That seems to be his favorite place to lounge: on Wangho’s shoulders, or wound up in a spiral around his arm, or resting his head on Wangho’s thigh when he sits, or at least touching Wangho in some way. Maybe because Wangho runs warmer than the rest of his team, or maybe because Dohyeon found comfort in familiar places—or most likely, because the rest of their team is still hesitant about touching him.
“He’s poisonous and venomous,” Hwanjoong says, throwing his arms in the air. “He’s not some cute, harmless rat snake! He could kill us!”
“Dohyeon would never,” Wangho says, running a finger down Dohyeon’s head, laughing when Dohyeon rubs his head against his hand. “Look at him.”
That seems to be the cue for Geonwoo to step up, a determined look on his face. “Is this okay?” he asks, sidling up to Wangho and reaching out a hand to tentatively touch the top of Dohyeon’s head as well. His eyes go wide, mouth dropping open. “Oh, he’s so smooth?”
“Tiger Keelback,” Hwanjoong repeats.
Wooje also walks closer, joining in the petting of their new snake. “Hyung’s so nice, though.”
“What, no loyalty to your ADC?” Wangho teases, and Hwanjoong shoots him a glare.
“If I die,” he threatens, though he finally also steps closer, awkwardly hovering a hand just above Dohyeon’s scales but obviously still working up the courage to touch. “Let it be known that it’s all your fault.”
“Coward,” Wangho says cheerfully, slapping Hwanjoong’s hand down so he’s forced to finally touch Dohyeon. He watches Hwanjoong turn extremely pale, anxiety and terror fighting across his face. “C’mon, don’t you guys have that unbreakable bot-lane synergy?”
“Asshole,” Hwanjoong mutters, but he runs his hand down the length of Dohyeon’s body, stopping right as he comes to his tail. “God, this is so weird.”
“Think of it as an excellent team-bonding activity.” Wangho shrugs. “At least we won’t have any filming this week.”
“Dohyeonnie hyung would be a hit, though,” Geonwoo says. “He could do tricks or something. We’d go viral.”
Dohyeon headbutts Geonwoo for the statement, head twisting upside down to glare at him for extra emphasis, and Wangho can’t help but laugh again. He feels Dohyeon slowly unwind himself from around Wangho’s neck and shoulders, slithering over toward Hwanjoong, who reluctantly allows him to curl up his arm to rest his head on Hwanjoong’s shoulder. Dohyeon flicks his tongue out again, and at least Hwanjoong doesn’t flinch, although he does hold his arm out as far away from his head as possible.
It’s a little odd how much he misses Dohyeon’s comforting warmth and weight on him already, but Wangho has never been one to miss a chance to document blackmail. “That’s our bot duo,” he teases, quickly snapping photos on his phone. “How cute.”
“Please,” Hwanjoong says stiffly. “Take him back.”
Wooje holds out both arms, eyes pleading. “Can I have him first?” he asks. “I want to hold hyung.”
Despite Hwanjoong’s obvious desire to have Dohyeon as far away as possible from him as fast as possible, he does unravel him gently from his arm before passing Dohyeon over to Wooje, who lets Dohyeon slink up and around his neck like a loose necklace.
It really shouldn’t be so cute to watch Wooje break into a wide smile when Dohyeon slithers his way up Wooje’s neck to rest his head on top of Wooje’s fluffy hair. That doesn’t stop Wangho from filling his camera roll with another series of photos that will never see the light of day.
-
Spring is slow to hit Seoul this year, with March slowly warming up interspersed with days of frigid weather. The sun is still weak, valiantly trying to fight off the gray and the cold, and the rays are few and far between.
That doesn’t stop Dohyeon from curling up in whatever few patches of sunlight he can catch, sticking by the windows and lazily moving himself as the sun and shadows shifted throughout the day. Sometimes he would unwind and fully stretch out, one long, green and orange squiggle on the ground, usually vaguely circular, sometimes in another abstract shape, always loose and relaxed.
His most favored perch is still around Wangho’s shoulders, loosely wrapped around his neck until he can rest his head snugly against Wangho’s shoulder or neck like a living accessory. He’s conscientious when Wangho plays, winding himself around some hand-warmers on Wangho’s desk and lazing under the new heat lamp they’ve bought until Wangho’s finished with his game before he slithers back up again.
“You’re so sticky,” Wangho tells him, but he doesn’t really mind it. It’s comforting to have Dohyeon’s weight on him, and maybe a little gratifying to know he’s the one Dohyeon feels most comfortable with—the one he deliberately searches out over anyone else. He taps the top of Dohyeon’s head, smiling when Dohyeon flicks out his tongue to touch his finger. “What would you do without me, hm?”
He’s also the one who’s been tasked with heating up the frozen mice they’ve bought for Dohyeon to eat, although even he doesn’t have the heart to watch Dohyeon swallow them whole. At least Dohyeon looks vaguely guilty about it, too.
Dohyeon tilts his head to the side, mouth opening like he wants to say something. But he’s a snake, and other than hissing and soft puffing noises, he isn’t able to make much sound. Instead, he stretches himself out, until they’re nose to nose, leaning in until they’re touching.
Wangho crosses his eyes to keep their gazes connected, and he smiles. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I know you’d do the same for me, too.”
-
Dohyeon insists on coming outside with him, trying to burrow himself in Wangho’s sweater or jacket pockets even when it’s obvious he won’t fit.
“You’re too long,” Wangho complains, because Dohyeon is. Hiding a two-foot-long snake is impossible, and even in his hoodie pocket he obviously bulges out. That doesn’t stop Dohyeon from trying, stuffing his face into Wangho’s jacket and worming his way down to settle himself against Wangho’s chest inside his sweater, the only thing separating him from skin Wangho’s flimsy t-shirt. “I don’t even know why you want to come out with me, it’s too cold for you.”
He also wouldn’t even be able to poke his face out—the whole carrying around a venomous, poisonous snake didn’t seem like a particularly legal or ethical thing to do. Dohyeon seems extremely put out by his answer, drooping down sadly, head sagging, until Wangho sighs. “I can maybe put you in a backpack.”
It’s stupid, how much it warms his heart to see Dohyeon perk up at that, his head lifting up and bobbing, tongue flicking out excitedly. It’s also stupid, because a backpack would probably get too cold for Dohyeon, who while more flexible than an actual snake, was sensitive to changes in temperature, and enjoyed a particular range of warmth and humidity.
In the end, he throws a bunch of heat packs in his backpack for Dohyeon to wrap around, leaving part of the bag unzipped for him to poke his head out to see the outside. Wangho can almost imagine he’s going on a walk with Dohyeon like this, having managed to drag him outside to do some shopping or to catch dinner with him.
Dohyeon also likes to eat with him. Settling himself at his table in the cafeteria, nosing his way around Wangho’s plate and sniffing all of the dishes.
“Can snakes eat bulgogi?” Wooje asks, watching Dohyeon taste a small piece of beef Wangho had cut off and set aside for him.
Geonwoo pauses in his single-minded effort to stuff as much protein in his mouth as possible to tilt his head to the side and shrug. “Probably? Snakes eat meat.”
“It’s marinated, though,” Hwanjoong says. “Can he eat that?”
They all turn their heads to Wangho, and he doesn’t know when he suddenly became the expert on snakes. He still doesn’t like snakes. Only Dohyeon. He looks down to see that even Dohyeon is looking up at him for an answer, and he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know,” he says. “How would I know?”
“You’re the one who feeds him,” Hwanjoong says, mildly scolding. But he’s also pulling out his phone to check.
They all wait for him to report back with results, and they’re unsurprisingly unhelpful. “Dunno,” Hwanjoong says. “Don’t think anyone’s tried to keep one of these as a pet before.” He stresses again, because he refuses to ever let them forget, “because he’s poisonous and venomous.”
“We could ask auntie to cook us an unmarinated portion?” Wooje asks. “I’m sure hyung misses eating her meals.”
It’s so sweet, and thoughtful, and Wangho can only think about how lucky they are to have such a considerate member on their team. “Sure,” he says, watching Dohyeon nod his head happily. “Anything for our star member.”
Because Auntie Baek is a literal angel, she doesn’t mind taking personal requests, and they soon have a steaming pile of plain galbi just for Dohyeon, generously cut into smaller pieces at the bone. They all watch Dohyeon swallow one, the shape of it slowly winding down his body, and it was always so weird to watch Dohyeon eat in this form, but at least he seems content.
“Good?” Wangho asks.
Dohyeon can’t reply, already swallowing another piece down, but he does flick his tail over to rest on Wangho’s wrist. He’ll take that as a yes.
-
Dohyeon is loath to leave him even at night. His new terrarium had been placed in Wangho’s room, largely because it was the biggest, partly because Dohyeon essentially refused to leave his side.
“I don’t even know why we bought you that when you spend all your time on me,” Wangho says, but he doesn’t stop Dohyeon from slinking under his blanket to rest on top of Wangho’s chest, a solid weight and pressure against his heart and lungs. “Are you sure it’ll be warm enough?”
Dohyeon peeks out from under the covers, letting his head rest right up against Wangho’s collarbone. He flicks out a tongue, rubbing his head against Wangho’s chin fondly, before retreating back under the blanket.
Wangho laughs. “We haven’t even shared a bed in human form, and now you’re imposing yourself on me like this?”
Dohyeon doesn’t reply. Of course he doesn’t, he can’t. Not like this. Wangho doesn’t mind keeping the conversation going one-sided. He’s asked enough of Dohyeon already, waking him up from sleep to entertain him with his voice impressions, talking with him deep into the dark of night about the future, about playing together, about their dreams, about playing abroad, about what their lives might look like post-retirement.
They’re nearing a week in snake form, and Wangho can only hope that Dohyeon turns back soon. He misses Dohyeon, everyone on their team does, even if Geonwoo is happy to have unfettered access to a bathroom. He misses the way Dohyeon would go out of his way to make sure Wangho was taken care of. The way Dohyeon would actively search him out. Would wait for him to end his stream to walk back together. Would walk in the rain just because Wangho wanted to. Would time all of their meal breaks so they could eat together. Would accompany him outside even when he hated crowds. Would make stupid faces, because he knew they would make Wangho laugh.
“You could’ve just asked,” Wangho says, feeling suddenly shy. It’s easier to say these words that have rebounded in his head for months aloud now, pretending he’s alone in his room. “To share my room. You talk about how big it is all the time.” It feels unfair, a bit like he’s cheating, to say this when Dohyeon can’t reply. “I wouldn’t mind, if you actually wanted to share my bed.”
He feels Dohyeon stir, body rippling under the blanket until his head's poking out again, eyes directly on Wangho’s, mesmerizing and enrapturing, like putting Wangho under a spell.
“As a human,” Wangho adds, feeling stupid. It feels important to clarify, though, that he wants Dohyeon. As a snake or not, he wouldn’t mind his warmth in either form. “I hope you feel special,” he says. “I’ve never said that to someone before.”
Dohyeon drops his head, until he can gently boop their noses together. Wangho laughs, can’t stop the giggles that rise up from his stomach and out of his throat. “Okay,” he says. “Now hurry up and turn back.”
-
It shouldn't be—it isn't a surprise when Wangho wakes up the next morning to a naked Dohyeon in his bed. His face looks bare without glasses, vulnerable and exposed, and he still has some green scales scattered across his cheeks. He looks peaceful like this, and Wangho would be reluctant to move him, except Dohyeon’s crushing him to the bed with his weight, no longer the light snake of yesterday night.
“Dohyeonnie,” he says, shoving up with a shoulder and dislodging Dohyeon slightly from on top of him. “Wake up.”
“Wha?” Dohyeon opens his eyes, sleepily blinking at Wangho. “Oh,” he says. “I forgot how small you are.”
Wangho immediately bristles. “Oh?” he asks. “Is that the first thing you have to say to me?”
Dohyeon’s eyes quickly widen, slit pupils dilating, sleep wiped from his face, suddenly completely awake. “No,” he rushes out. “Of course not.” He rolls to his side a bit, enough for Wangho to be able to breathe normally again and free his trapped limbs.
Wangho smiles prettily, hands gripping at Dohyeon’s shoulders before he abruptly flips them so he’s on top, staring down at Dohyeon’s shocked face. “Good,” he says sweetly. “I wouldn’t want you to think that means anything.”
“No,” Dohyeon chokes out, eyes darting across Wangho’s face, from his eyes to his nose to his lips—and then they stay stuck there. His mouth parts slightly, tongue sneaking out to wet his lips, and Wangho can’t resist, ducking down to kiss him. “Hyung,” Dohyeon breathes out when they break for air. His hands sneak up to clutch at Wangho’s hips. “Wangho. Please.”
“Dohyeonnie,” Wangho says fondly, affectionately. He laughs, can’t help it, with how happy he is to be here. “You only had to ask.”
