Work Text:
Gyeonu hated closing shifts, late at midnight.
The buzz of fluorescent lights, the relentless beeping of the café register, the smell of the burnt espresso lingering in his hair—by the time he dragged his legs up the stairs to their own shared apartment, it was nearly about 1 a.m at night. His eyes burned with exhaustion, his shoulders ached painfully, and the only thing on his mind was collapsing face-first into something soft and warm from the apartment.
---
He wasn’t expecting the living room lights to still be on.
Or the glowing hum of the TV screen playing a Michael Bay explosion fest.
And certainly not Pyo Jiho, sitting cross-legged on the couch in a baggy blue hoodie,with a popcorn on his hand,cheeks cutely puffed with full focus, not missing the best momments, and eyes glued to the "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen" like it was the height of cinema.
Jiho turned to the side when the door opened, eyes lighting up like he’d been waiting for that fellow all night. “Hey,” he grinned widely, arms stretching out into the air like an adorable puppy. His hoodie sleeves flop over his hands like paw prints. “Welcome home, you punk.”
Gyeonu was standing there in silence.
His hair was messy, dark strands falling into his dark-circled eyes. His expression was unreadable. There’s was a stormcloud above his head, or maybe that’s just the ghost of a caffeine-fueled headache from dealing with customers who think oat milk is a personality trait.
Gyeonu blinked sharply, still standing there by the door like a confused lost child, shoes half off the ground.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice hoarse from the long and tiring night shift.
Jiho shrugged, “Well, my shift ended pretty early today. And I couldn’t sleep properly. My fellow comrade, Bumblebee was calling out to me. So l can't miss that chance, you know " Then, with a tilt of his head, a smile that was way too soft for a movie that just featured a robot getting sliced in half, he added, “Also… I figured you’d need a recharge.”
He closed his eyes enthusiastically and took a large inhale as if he was summoning a divine greek goddess, left his arms out in the air, open and patient."Come on, don't leave my arms hanging, you dumbass."
Gyeonu scoffed lightly under his breath, but the exhaustion in his limbs pulled him forward before he could come up with a sarcastic reply.Though, not admiting he loves that warm comfort he receives.
In two slow steps, he was already in front of the couch.
Jiho raised an eyebrow, still smiling. Certainly proud of his adorable actions.
And then—Gyeonu immediately folded.
He sank down onto the couch, into the space between Jiho’s arms, wrapping his own arms around Jiho’s waist and burying his face into the soft curve of his neck. The hoodie smelled like laundry detergent and green tea, warm and familiar. Jiho’s arms folded around his neck instantly, like he’d been waiting all day to hold him close.
"Rough day?" Jiho murmured against his hair.
Gyeonu didn’t really answer with words. Just simply nodded, breath shuddering as it escaped.
Jiho hummed low, a soothing sound, and gently threaded his fingers through Gyeonu's hair, brushing lightly at the nape with the back and forth motion. His touch was slow and careful—like calming down a startled animal. Gyeonu had melted right under it, the tension in his shoulders ebbing away inch by inch.
“No angry customers today?” Jiho asked quietly, thumb now tracing little arcs behind his ear.
“One spilled hot chocolate on my shoe,” Gyeonu mumbled, his voice muffled in Jiho’s hoodie.
Jiho winced at that comment. “Well, R.I.P to your socks, my friend.”
There was silence.
“I like this,” Gyeonu said after a while. The words came soft, like he didn’t mean to say them out loud.
Jiho laughs softly, hand brushing lazy circles at the nape of Gyeonu’s neck. “ You are always this clingy after work?”
He scoffed, “You are always this warm,"
Jiho smiled softly into his hair. “For what, being held by your devastatingly handsome roommate?”
“Mhmm,” Gyeonu mumbled against his neck. “Mostly just the hoodie.”
Jiho laughed heartily, and it shook both of them gently. “Hah, I’ll allow it.”
He just tightens his grip around Jiho’s waist a little more, grounding himself in the quiet rhythm of their bodies swaying slightly with each breath.
The movie continued in the background, explosions echoing off the walls. But the only thing Gyeonu could really feel was Jiho’s warmth and comfort, the safety of that stupid baggy hoodie he was wearing, and the gentle way his fingers never stopped moving in his hair.
And here, in their tiny living room, everything else fades into static.
---
It’s been ten minutes later when Jiho shifts his position slightly.
“Alright,” he whispers, voice reluctant. “Let me get up. You haven’t eaten anything, have you?”
Gyeonu makes a growling sleepy noise. The noise was low and dangerous.
Jiho freezes still.
Then, slowly, Gyeonu tightens his arms around Jiho’s waist again—tighter than before. A firm, sleepy lock-in, like a koala that refuses to be pried off.
“Gyeon-ah—”
“No.”
Jiho glances down at the mess. Gyeonu’s face is still buried deep in his neck, and he feels him nuzzle in deeper, like a grumpy black cat that just found the warmest sunbeam on earth and refuses to let go.
“You’ve been home for twenty minutes and you’re already possessed,” Jiho mutters, trying not to laugh.
“I’m tired,” Gyeonu mumbles. “Just stay.”
“You’re literally starving.”
“Starve later.”
Jiho groans and slumps back against the couch cushions. Already accepted his defeat. “You’re such a pain when you’re like this.”
“Don’t care.”
There’s was a long pause where Jiho contemplates his life choices. He could have tried to push Gyeonu off, but the guy’s a barnacle when he wants to be. And besides…that big fool was warm after all.
Jiho sighs again, softer this time, and lets one hand come up to gently stroke through Gyeonu’s hair again, fingertips threading slowly between the strands. Gyeonu lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a purr.
“Fine,” Jiho murmurs. “Five more minutes.”
Gyeonu nods, but he doesn’t move an inch. Doesn’t even flinch.
Just stayed there, breathing into Jiho’s neck, cheek pressed against his collarbone like it’s the safest place in the world.
Eventually, the warmth settles so deeply that Jiho forgets the cold floor tiles of the kitchen or the lonely beep of the microwave. The only thing that matters is the soft weight of Gyeonu that was snuggled against him, and the rise and fall of his chest like a lullaby.
Jiho doesn’t know when it happened—when this grumpy and closed off punk turned into this. When the simple hugs turned into lifelines. When the quiet comfort of coming home turned into the best part of his day.
But tonight, with Gyeonu tucked against him like he belongs there, Jiho knows one thing for sure:
He never wants to fall asleep without this weight on him again.