Archive of Our Own

He and Yin had been dancing around each other for weeks—months.

For six years, his best friend Yin had been the most important person in his life—the one he could tell anything, the one he trusted blindly, the one who could make him laugh even on his worst days—but for the past few months, things had been different.

War wasn't quite sure when exactly it had started. Maybe since they started sharing an apartment, maybe even before. But it hadn't been until the past few months that War had truly noticed the shift between them—every look was more intense, every touch lingered longer than it should have. And that feeling kept rising in War’s chest—as if the air wasn’t enough, as if something essential was missing whenever he got lost in Yin's eyes for too long.

Perhaps he was the only one who noticed, because so far, Yin hadn't said a word either, hadn't made any attempt to change their current status, even though things between them hadn't felt like friendship for a long time.

But it was actually impossible that all of this was only in War's head. There was this tension in the air whenever they stood too close to each other, whenever their hands accidentally brushed, whenever Yin's eyes wandered for a split second to places they had no business looking if friendship was all he had in mind.

War felt restless, on edge, every time he stepped into their shared apartment. There used to be a sense of calm and comfort that settled over him whenever Yin was near—and that feeling hadn’t disappeared. But it had changed. Instead of calming him down, it did the exact opposite now—his heart beat faster, his nerves felt stretched thin, as if his emotions were simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to break through.

He knew he couldn’t go on like this forever, but the fear of crossing a line and never being able to go back always lingered in the back of his mind. So War waited. For a word, a look—a sign that would give him absolute certainty.

And it came.

One evening, as he stepped into their shared apartment, the smell of garlic, onions, and meat hit him instantly. It reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything since that morning, but it also sparked a fair amount of irritation, because he couldn’t remember anyone ever cooking in this apartment. Did either of them even know how?

Yin apparently knew, because he was standing at the stove, clearly busy, and turned around abruptly as War closed the apartment door behind him. War raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked lightly, doing his best to sound casual. For a brief moment, an absurd image popped into his head—Yin having invited someone over to cook for them. The thought alone stirred something uneasy in his chest.

“Not really. I was hungry and kind of in the mood to cook,” he said, seeming somewhat... nervous? He bit his lower lip and added, far too casually, “But now that you're here, you can have some too, if you want.”

Okay, wow. Was War imagining things, or did those words sound rehearsed?

“Uhm,” he said, and was about to gratefully accept the invitation when Yin continued talking—rambling, actually. The situation was getting weirder and weirder.

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

War could only stare at Yin for several seconds.

It was suddenly so obvious what was going on here. Not only was he extremely nervous and speaking as if he were reading from some script, he had also dimmed the lights, cooked something that smelled damn good, and suggested they watch a movie together. Everything about that moment screamed “date.”

War couldn't help but suddenly start grinning. He was practically bursting with happiness, his heart pounding against his ribcage, and he almost couldn't believe what was happening.

How incredibly sweet was it that Yin actually thought he was being subtle here?

But War wasn't going to tease him about it. Not yet. He tried to hide his wide grin by running his hand over his mouth and looking at the floor to calm himself down.

“Sure. Is it okay if I take a quick shower? I just got back from tennis and I'm really sweaty.”

War was surprised at how normal his voice sounded. It seemed to have a calming effect on Yin as well, because he seemed much less tense, even though he still radiated nervousness.

At his words, his eyes began to sparkle, briefly scanning War's body and then looking back up to his face. War got goosebumps.

“Hey, don't stress. The food isn't quite ready yet anyway,” he said, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. “So, see you soon?”

War just nodded and disappeared into his room for a moment to get a change of clothes. Meanwhile, he tried to sort out his thoughts.

Yin had prepared this. He'd probably made sure Bonz, their other roommate and best friend, wouldn't be home. He'd discreetly found out via text when War would be home and cooked something to surprise him. And he'd dimmed the lights.

War wondered if he realized how obvious he was and that War had seen through the whole thing long ago. Yin had been so incredibly nervous. Whether it was because he was afraid that War might guess what was going on or that he might reject his proposal—Yin had made himself vulnerable, had taken a risk. That made War's heart beat a little faster.

He quickly grabbed a pair of boxer shorts, sweatpants, and a black T-shirt, then headed to the bathroom, but not before giving Yin another quick glance. He'd already turned back to the stove and was stirring a pot. War caught a glimpse of him wiping his left hand on his pants as if it were sweaty. The guy was still super nervous, even though he had no reason to be—at least, if he would have known what was going on in War's head.

If War was honest with himself, he was also nervous. But his nerves were at least somewhat calmed by the knowledge that Yin apparently felt the same way. Unlike Yin, War at least now knew where he stood with him. If War wasn't completely misinterpreting it, Yin was clearly planning to take their “friendship” to another level.

And sure, that still scared War because he didn't know how it would turn out, but above all, he was incredibly happy. Stupidly, ridiculously happy.

When War came out of the bathroom about ten minutes later, freshly showered and just rubbing his hair dry with a towel, he found the coffee table already set.

Yin had cooked Pad Kra Pao–War’s favorite dish. And of course, Yin knew that.

As War approached the couch where Yin was already sitting, his best friend’s gaze remained fixed on the television, as if he were completely absorbed in clicking through the programs. His suddenly tense shoulders, however, betrayed that he was fully aware of War's presence.

War sank into the cushions next to him and glanced sideways at him. He had shaved—the small cut under his ear spoke volumes. Yin smelled of aftershave and his sweet vanilla shampoo and, unlike War, he looked like he was about to go out: his legs were tucked into black jeans, his upper body in a dark blue short-sleeved dress shirt.

War was hundred percent sure he'd never seen him leave the house in that outfit before, so he probably hadn't been wearing it since this morning. It seemed more like he had changed specifically for this—he’d dressed up. The observation made War's skin prickle.

He cleared his throat and suddenly felt like he'd made the wrong choice in his attire. Because: jogging shorts and a T-shirt for a date? Perfect, War.

Yin, however, didn't seem to mind in the slightest, because when he turned his head in War's direction, his eyes wandered for a split second to his biceps, where the sleeves of his shirt were perhaps a bit too tight. His friend May had given him the shirt for his birthday for that very reason—and War had jokingly called her a lecher because of it.

“Do you want to watch anything in particular?” Yin asked, his slightly raspy voice doing strange things to War's stomach. Maybe May wasn't the only lecher here.

“No, you pick something,” War said quickly, reaching for his filled plate.

Yin smiled and turned his gaze back to the television to choose a movie for them. For a brief moment, War almost expected him to choose some romantic comedy, but he settled on “Shutter Island.” War had already seen the film, but he liked it, so he nodded at Yin's questioning look. When he turned on the movie and sank back into the pillows with his plate, War wasted no time in scooping the first portion onto his fork.

“This smells really delicious,” War told him, and Yin's smile widened so much that War could even see it out of the corner of his eye.

“I hope it tastes—” he started, when War let out a moan of pleasure because it tasted damn good, too. His taste buds were so satisfied that he wasn't even ashamed of the moan that made Yin raise an eyebrow and chuckle.

“Okay, wow, so I don't even have to ask if it tastes good,” he grinned, looking so happy it made War's heart flutter.

God. He was hopelessly lost.

“It tastes horrible,” War said with his mouth full, making Yin laugh again. War hid his smile by lowering his head over his plate and immediately shoveling the next portion into his mouth.

Yes, this seemed to be a date, and on a date you're probably supposed to adhere to certain table manners, but this was also Yin.

War had puked on the guy's shoes before, and Yin had spit a whole load of his milkshake in his face because he'd laughed so hard at something that the sip of milkshake he'd just taken actually came back out of his nostrils. Gross. But because it was Yin, it had been somehow less gross.

They were about halfway through the movie and had long since finished their portions when War felt the need to break the silence. Yin didn't seem to be paying much attention to the movie anyway, given how often he kept staring at War out of the corner of his eye. Every secret glance made War's own excitement rise.

“How many dates have you been on in your life?”

The question made Yin's head snap toward him. “Huh?”

War tried to suppress the grin on his lips and raised a questioning eyebrow, certain that Yin had heard him perfectly well.

Confusion spread across his features, illuminated only by the glow of the television.

“Why do you want to know how many dates I've been on?”

War dropped his head back in mock annoyance, only to raise it again immediately. “Just answer the question.”

The frown on Yin's forehead deepened, and he looked terribly confused and unsure. It was kind of cute.

“Uh...” he ran his knuckles over his forehead as he considered War's question. “I don't know. 9? 10?”

“Huh,” War said in surprise before he could stop himself, because he hadn't expected that. That was surprisingly low.

“What?” Now Yin sounded almost a little defensive. He reached for the remote and paused the movie.

“Nothing,” War mumbled, studying his face. He noticed how he shifted slightly, as if suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. Damn. War certainly hadn't intended that. “The number is just smaller than I expected.”

Yin shrugged. “And?”

War sighed at his tense expression. “There’s no 'and'. It was only a statement. No judgment, Yin.”

“How many dates have you been on?” he turned the tables, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

War grinned and shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Yin's expression turned skeptical. “Are you serious? I had to answer, and you just brush me off with 'I have no idea'?”

War snorted quietly, but he made no move to clarify his answer.

After a moment, War cleared his throat. “But it's no wonder you haven’t been on many dates so far,” he said, just to provoke Yin a little more.

Something unreadable crossed Yin’s face. “So?”

War nodded vigorously. “The first rule of any date is 'Don't eat garlic, for God’s sake.'”

His words made Yin frown—and then War could clearly see the realization dawning on him. His dark eyes flickered briefly to their empty plates, then back to War. “This is a date?”

Oh, how sweet. He was playing dumb.

But War didn't buy it for a second, because he didn't miss the way Yin's ears turned pink as War looked at him in disbelief. “Oh, come on.” He gestured at the scene around them. “You dimmed the lights, cooked my favorite meal and dressed up. I think the only way you could have made it more obvious would be to feed me chocolate during the movie.”

Yin giggled softly, a little breathlessly, which made War smile.

“I have some chocolate in the fridge.”

Yin smiled sheepishly at War's stunned expression. “You're not serious.”

“I'm dead serious,” he assured him, and even in the flickering light of the TV, War could see that his cheeks were now turning red too.

“Shit,” War exclaimed, a sudden flutter in his chest, “you're too cute.”

It wasn’t until the words had left his mouth that War realized what he’d just said.

You're too cute. For God's sake. Had he actually said that out loud?

War tried to remember if he'd ever said anything like that to Yin before—as friends. Did friends even say things like that to each other?

Definitely not when the words sounded like a dreamy sigh.

War inhaled quietly and was suddenly dead certain that he was turning just as red as Yin.

His best friend blinked at him, wide-eyed, and the more time passed, the more War wanted to sink into the ground, but the softer the expression in Yin's eyes became, too.

“Is that... okay?” Yin's voice was suddenly a whisper.

His question threw War off. He blinked, confused, an embarrassed smile on his lips. “What? That you're cute?”

For God's sake, why was he repeating his words now?

Yin let out a soft laugh as War grimaced in shame. “No. That...” he cleared his throat, seemingly fighting his own fluster, “that this is a date.”

War's breath hitched briefly, because hearing it from Yin was different than just assuming it. Suddenly, he felt even more shy than he already was. “More than okay,” he breathed softly, digging his fingers into his thighs as he tried to hold Yin's gaze that turned warm enough to melt chocolate at his words.

The air between them changed suddenly, crackled, and War found it harder to breathe—it was too much.

He turned his gaze to their plates and cleared his throat. “You're quite the romantic, aren't you?” he said, slightly breaking the sudden tension between them, because in the darkness, it felt even more vulnerable than War had expected.

Yin laughed awkwardly. “Not really.”

War frowned and looked at him again. “You have chocolate in the fridge that you want to feed me.”

Yin snorted in amusement. “The feeding is all in your imagination, buddy.”

War grimaced at the last word. It was like an unpleasant scratch on a record. “Buddy? Why are you suddenly calling me buddy?” he asked incredulously. “Don’t do that.”

“Why?” Yin tilted his head, and War hadn't noticed before, but his eyes suddenly shimmered almost challenging. Teasing. As if he'd intentionally teased War with the word.

The indignation subsided, but his competitiveness came out with full force. Yin wanted to play games? Challenge him? Fine. He'd wanted it that way.

His challenging question echoed in his ears as he stared at War with a mischievous grin.

But the grin quickly faded.

“Because I would never do this to a buddy,” War replied, swinging a leg over Yin to sit on his lap.

Yin's heart rate immediately sped up and he inhaled sharply, which seemed to amuse War. He glared at him cockily.

“If you do that to Bonz, I'm afraid I'll have to kill him,” Yin told him in a tone that was trying to sound casual, because the mere idea made him sick.

“Oh, and if I did that to May, would that be okay?” Yin pinched him in the side for the bold question, and War snorted.

“So, should I be worried about May?” Yin asked, raising one eyebrow. War immediately shook his head with an amused expression as he leaned a little closer. He was practically beaming with unmistakable happiness, revealing his adorable dimple in the process. “You really don't have to worry about anyone,” he whispered to Yin, running a hand through his hair.

Their eyes locked and Yin's heart skipped a beat, only to pick up its pace even more. War's smile faded and there was suddenly so much softness in War's brown eyes that Yin felt lightheaded, his whole world zeroed in on the beautiful details of War's face. And when the boy of his dreams leaned closer, brushing his nose over his like a lingering breath, Yin closed his eyes in tingling anticipation. 

War made him wait though. One second, two seconds—pressing his forehead against his, letting his breath fan over Yin's lips, and making him crazy in the process.

When Yin leaned forward, almost desperately seeking War's lips, War coaxed out a breathless laugh. For a painful second Yin expected him to pull back to tease him even more, but suddenly—finally—he felt War's lips on his, and the sudden contact sent a spark down Yin’s spine, making his heart almost leap out of his chest.

He froze for a heartbeat—feeling the shakiness of his hands, the stuttering of his breath, the rapid pounding of his heart. And then he moved.

He more than willingly melted into the kiss, and suddenly nothing was slow or hesitating anymore. The kiss quickly swung from tentative and gentle to passionate and intense as their tongues came into play—a longing, yearning, in both of their movements that had lasted way too long and was finally breaking through. 

While Yin's hands brushed over War's back, pressing him even closer, War’s trailed down Yin's torso, unbuttoning his dress shirt with shaky, eager hands. Goosebumps spread over his skin as War smoothed the piece of fabric off his shoulders and then removed it completely, without taking his lips off Yin's for even a second.

As his hands grazed over Yin's skin, a shiver ran down his spine, making him tremble slightly and causing the bastard to grin against his lips. Yin was briefly tempted to break the kiss and stall War for a bit by commenting on his annoying smugness, when War suddenly kissed his way down his neck.

Yin's words caught in his throat; instead, a pleasurable humming escaped his lips. His hands wandered down War's back as if having a mind of their own. There was only a briefly hesitation before he placed them on War's ass, pressing him even tighter against him. War let out a strangled gasp that almost sounded like a moan, clouding Yin's mind in record speed with unholy thoughts. “Take that damn shirt off.”

Was that his voice? Oh shit.

But it seemed to have just the right effect on War, because he let go of his neck, which he'd been sucking on just a moment ago, and pulled his own shirt over his head so eagerly that he almost tumbled over if Yin hadn't steadied him. They both giggled breathlessly while War tossed the shirt onto the floor somewhere behind him. Then their lips met again in another heated kiss.

In a sudden rush of desire, Yin's nails lightly scratched War's back, causing War to gasp into his mouth in surprise.

Interesting. “Do you like that?” Yin's fingernails ran down his back once more, ghosting teasingly over his skin. He felt a shiver run through War.

“Shut up.” Despite his harsh words, War sounded amused, but also unmistakably turned on—his words being more a gasp than anything else.

Yin was about to say something smug when the door to their apartment unlocked, and Bonz stumbled in before they could even realize what was happening.

“You don't believe what I just witnessed—” Bonz stopped with a shocked gasp and stared at War and Yin with an expression of pure horror.

And they both just stared back like two deer in the headlights.

It would have been funny if it hadn't been so damn awkward.

“Holy shit!” Bonz exclaimed, then abruptly turned around and buried his face in his hands, shaking with a laugh that sounded equal parts shocked and happy. “That was something I never wanted to see, but damn, yeah, man! Finally!”

He chuckled into his palms as War snapped out of his stupor and flopped down on the couch next to Yin, his face bright red.

“Oh my God,” Yin heard him whisper softly next to him.

“Uh,” Yin said, fighting the blush on his own face. He cleared his throat, almost dying of embarrassment. “You can turn around again.”

Bonz didn't need to be told twice. He beamed at them with delight. The only thing missing was him rubbing his hands together devilishly. “You can't believe how happy I am about the evening's developments.”

War let out a pained groan and let his head fall back onto the armrest. “Why are you home already?”

“It's 1 am, beautiful. I didn't expect you to have any nighttime activities planned.”

At Bonz's words, War pressed a hand to his face, but Yin was pretty sure he was smiling underneath.

“We didn't either,” War said at the same time as Yin said, “Don’t call him that.”

Bonz blinked at Yin, flabbergasted, then realization dawned on him. “Oh my god, are you jealous that I called him beautiful?” His words were a giddy gasp while his whole face lit up. “This is the highlight of my day.”

Yin threw a couch cushion at him, which he dodged, laughing.

“That's sad,” War commented dryly, letting his hand drop, but his whole face was still bright red. Yin giggled softly at his words.

Bonz grinned without a care in the world. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this.”

“How long?” Yin asked, placing his arm behind War on the backrest of the couch. His fingers brushed War's shoulders, and War shivered slightly at the touch, but he leaned into it, which gave Yin a strange thrill.

“Six years! I've been on Team YinWar since day one. And you have no idea what torture it's been over the years! You are both so blind!” he exclaimed.

Yin didn't really register what Bonz was saying, because War had turned his face slightly toward him, and Yin was concentrating on trailing his fingers over the skin on his neck—suddenly slightly short of breath again as he watched War's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

“I think only one of us is blind,” War whispered softly as he leaned his head back and pressed his cheek against Yin's arm. Yin's breath hitched as War turned his head even further, his lips brushing against Yin’s skin. Heat pooled in his stomach, and his body instinctively leaned closer to War.

“Who?” Bonz snorted, apparently still not getting the memo.

Yin decided to rescue him from his cluelessness. He leaned so close to War's face that his breath fanned over his lips and he could see the bright flecks in his eyes. “So blind,” he breathed against War's mouth, and as those soft, full lips curled into an amused smile, Yin closed the distance between them and kissed War—in front of Bonz.

Just a moment ago, he'd been extremely embarrassed when Bonz had just burst into this very obvious scene, but now? Now it just annoyed him that his friend was still standing here and wouldn't leave them both alone, even though it was obvious they almost desperately wanted to be alone.

“Oh my God.” He heard Bonz's voice only through cotton wool, because Yin's entire senses were focused on the feeling of War's lips on his and War's skin under his fingertips as he placed his hand against War's cheek.

“I hate you, oh shit. Ahhh. I don't know whether to freak out or throw up. But okay, yeah, yeah, I'm outta here!”

Shortly afterward, they heard Bonz's bedroom door slam shut, and War exhaled into Yin's mouth, almost with relief.

“He might hate you,” War murmured softly, changing the angle of their mouths to kiss Yin even deeper, more tenderly. Yin's stomach flipped. “But I love you.”

Yin's breath caught in his throat, and the pressure of his hand against War's cheek increased. “Yeah?” he asked, breathless and hoarse, a flutter in his stomach.

“Yeah.” It sounded like a sigh of relief.

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you.”

War giggled against his lips. It sounded so incredibly happy that Yin's heart clenched. “Why are you suddenly talking so fancy?”

With a smacking sound, Yin pulled away and leaned back to look at him in disbelief. “That’s Shakespeare, you uncultured swine.”

War's face did a strange thing. “What?” he burst out, scanning Yin's face as if searching for evidence that his words were lies. When he seemed to find nothing, his grin faded and his gaze softened—an emotion shimmering on his face so obvious that Yin wondered how he had overlooked it for so long: love. But he rolled his eyes as if being insanely annoyed by Yin's ridiculousness, fooling absolutely no one with the slight blush on his cheeks. “You're such a damn romantic.”

And this time Yin didn't argue. He grinned, pushed War into the pillows and kissed him the way a damn romantic would: passionately but tenderly, intensely but lovingly. War's giggle echoed in his ears as he mumbled against his lips:

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me properly!”

And Yin did.