Archive of Our Own

(ง •̀_•́)ง    ୧(•̀_•́ ୧)

“Wildcat, do you really think you have an advantage?”

Namgyu leans back in his chair, shooting a lopsided grin at the reporter. “Absolutely.”

Regardless of what all these news outlets keep saying, there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s got an advantage. Subong has never been in the ring with anyone like him, and judging from the dark circles under his eyes and his sallow complexion, he’s really feeling the exhaustion from his cut starting to set in. Even after rehydrating, he’s going to be dead on his feet tomorrow. So much for Thanos the Great’s unrivalled stamina. Namgyu’s got this one in the bag. 

Myunggi gestures at another reporter. “What’s your question?”

The woman in the glasses perks up, notepad clutched tight in her hand as she asks, “Coach Lee, given Jungle Gym is only in its third year of operation, do you worry a high-profile loss here could set back the reputation you’re working to build? Wouldn’t Tiger have been a better choice for this match-up?”

What a ridiculous question. Sure, Daeho’s a middleweight with seven years in the Taegeuk FC, but he and Subong have already fought plenty of times. The match wouldn’t be interesting. Jungle Gym isn’t going to gain notoriety through boring matches. Namgyu’s not going to gain notoriety if he sticks to fighting other newcomers. He leans forward to retort, but Myunggi stops him with a hand to the chest.

“Wildcat is perfectly capable of taking Thanos on,” Myunggi says shortly. “Next question.”

“Wildcat, what do you have to say in response to Thanos’s provocative social media posts?” a reporter asks.

“I have nothing to say,” Namgyu says haughtily. “I’ll let my fists do the talking tomorrow.”

It gets the reaction he was hoping for—excited murmurs throughout the crowd, reporters falling over themselves asking if he’s going to try to get revenge for all the smack talk. Namgyu’s been known to pull some illegal techniques when he’s got a vendetta against his opponent. His history of street fighting is hardly a well-kept secret. Subong’s going to be shaking in his metaphorical boots tomorrow. 

He’s already pretty shaky. He must be mad dehydrated after having to cut seven kilos over such a short period of time. Meanwhile, Namgyu’s been living it up, eating whatever he wants and bulking up so they can finally be in the same weight class. 

Namgyu smirks and leans in close to his microphone, directing his words to Subong as he says, “You’re gonna pay for all that shit you’ve been spewing.”

Subong glares from across the stage. “Big talk coming from a little baby kitten.”

Ugh, Subong and the kitten comparisons. Namgyu’s seen all the images of cats he’s been putting up online next to unflattering photos of Namgyu’s face. The one where Subong compares a picture of him with a splint on his finger to Minny le Mew is especially heinous. It’s gotten to the point where even Myunggi calls him Wildkitty when he wants to push his buttons, and he’s the one who chose Wildcat to fit the jungle theme in the first place.

Whatever. Wildcat is still a badass nickname. Namgyu hisses and swipes his hand through the air. 

“Adorable,” Subong coos sarcastically, “But aegyo’s not gonna get you far in this sport, kid.”

Namgyu rolls his eyes. He makes sure Subong can see it perfectly. 

“Thanos,” a reporter says, holding his microphone out towards the stage. “What prompted you to agree to this match-up?”

It’s not a terribly unfair question, as insulting as the undertones are. It’s not like Subong is gaining any titles by fighting a newcomer like Namgyu in the welterweight division. He’s already Taegeuk FC's middleweight champion, so even if he did stand a chance in tomorrow’s fight, it’s not going to mean anything for him once he replenishes.

“The kitty needs to be taught a lesson,” Subong says smugly. “This is strictly personal.”

His trainer, Hyunju, lets out a sigh and says, “What Thanos is trying to say is he’s eager to take on opponents from different divisions and training backgrounds. Variety is how we keep him at the top of his game.”

A very diplomatic way of saying Namgyu’s scrawny and lacks professional training. So rude. Namgyu can’t wait to take his shirt off for the weigh-in and show her and Subong just how much muscle he’s packed on in the past month.

“Is it worth the risk?” the reporter asks, directing his question back to Subong. “Your condition isn’t at its peak, and if you lose tomorrow—”

“I won’t lose.”

Yeah, right. Says the guy who looks like he’s gonna pass out the second he stands up for the weigh-in. Namgyu barks out a laugh. He makes sure Subong can hear it. 

It’s deeply satisfying when Namgyu steps onto the scale and sees that he’s gained an extra three kilos since yesterday. Sure, it’s mostly water and the fuckload of carbs Myunggi’s been shoving down his throat all day, but the rest of the weight he’s put on is pure muscle. 

It’s going to be obvious to the people in the audience that Namgyu’s bulked up quite a bit since his TFC debut last year. Subong has done him a favor with his most recent social media post, comparing a picture of him from before that fight to the cat version of Kirara. Namgyu looks way more like Kirara’s demon form than her cat form these days, and Subong’s definitely clocking it. Namgyu can see the way his eyes are lingering on his abdominal muscles. 

He flexes as he steps off the scale. He’s sure to angle his body so Subong can see it perfectly. 

When they step up to the front of the stage for the face-off, Namgyu tilts his chin up, narrowing his eyes at Subong as they stand chest to chest. “You feeling scared, Thanos?” 

“Of a little kitty cat like you?” Subong scoffs, leaning in close enough for the tips of their noses to touch. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Namgyu scans his eyes down Subong’s torso, smirking at the sweat glistening on his chest. Hyunju must’ve had him in a sauna suit right before getting to the arena. No wonder he looks like shit. 

“I can see how nervous you are,” Namgyu says snidely. “But don’t worry. I’ll be careful not to cause too much permanent damage.”

“Sorry, remind me what happened in your last fight?” Subong asks, brushing their noses together. “How’s the nose feeling, kitty?”

Yeah, whatever. Namgyu’s seen that particular picture more than enough times. In his defense, the guy who originally posted it totally scrubbed through the footage in an effort to screenshot the single millisecond where Namgyu was doubled over on the mat, clutching his broken nose. He got up immediately after. He looked sick as hell when he wiped Hwang Yuhyun out with an osotogari in the final round. The blood smeared on his face looked intimidating in literally every other photo from that match, save the one Subong’s been spamming online. Namgyu won that fight in the end, not that anyone would know that if they got their information solely from Subong’s social media. 

Frankly, if someone got their information solely from Subong’s posts, they might not even know Namgyu is an MMA fighter. Save for the screenshot from his last fight, most of Subong’s feed for the past few weeks has just been pictures of Namgyu outside of the ring in a wide range of embarrassing poses, all edited next to cartoon cats. Subong’s been having way too much fun spamming his feed with Namgyu sleeping with his mouth open, or caught mid-sneeze, or looking deeply unattractive with his hair all messed up or hunched over and looking at his phone. All paired with whatever cartoon cat Subong has decided he resembles in that moment. 

Subong must have the Hello Kitty Wiki page permanently open on his phone, given how many obscure Sanrio cats he’s been posting online. His camera roll must be almost entirely Namgyu by this point, save for the excessive amount of shirtless photos he takes of himself.

“Never better,” Namgyu says with a wide grin. “But what about you, Thanos? You look a little under the weather.”

Subong knocks their chests together, pointedly straightening his spin to make the six centimeter difference in their height more exaggerated. “If anyone’s under anything, it’s you, shorty.”

“You’ll be under me when I knock you out cold tomorrow,” Namgyu says, squaring his shoulders. 

“How about you try now, huh?” Subong goads. “Come at me, kitty cat.”

The referee steps in, forcing them apart when Namgyu shoves Subong hard on the shoulder. It’s satisfying, seeing him sway from such little force. 

“Come on, Thanos,” Namgyu sneers as he pushes against the referee’s outstretched arm. “You’re supposed to be a legend, right? How about you stop gossiping on the internet like a pussy and actually fight me?”

“If anyone’s a pussy, it’s you , pussycat,” Subong growls, pushing past the referee and giving Namgyu a harsh shove to the chest.

Namgyu staggers back. It’s a little embarrassing that he couldn't keep his footing, but it’s fine. He’s weighed down from all the carbs and water right now. He’ll be light on his feet in the ring tomorrow. “You just love calling me little pet names, don’t you? Sorry, but I’m not interested.”

“Oh, please,” Subong snorts. “I just swept you off your feet.”

“I’ll be sweeping you off your feet tomorrow,” Namgyu says, delivering another push to Subong’s shoulder. He sways again. It’s quite satisfying. “You’re so weak, a gust of wind could knock you over right now.”

The grimace Subong pulls when Namgyu blows air in his face is very satisfying.

“Remind me what you said before your first fight?” Subong prompts, his grimace twisting into a haughty smirk. “And what happened after that?”

Namgyu bites back the urge to groan. Subong just loves bringing up their first bet. 

In Namgyu’s defense, he’s gotten significantly better since his TFC debut. That fight was over a year ago, back when he was still struggling to reach the lower end of the lightweight class, and Park Heeyong was surprisingly scrappy for a fellow newcomer. Namgyu was just caught off-guard, is all. He’s won four of the five fights he’s been in since then. He still, technically, won their bet.

Namgyu would totally bring that up if there weren’t so many cameras in their faces. Instead, he leans forward, pushing past the referee’s arm and says, “Wow, you remember that? You must be obsessed with me.”

“Hwang Yuhyun must’ve really scrambled your brains if you can’t remember something from one year ago.”

“I’ll make it so you can’t remember five seconds ago,” Namgyu says, tapping his knuckles to Subong’s jaw. “But don’t worry too much.  I’ll make sure you last more than a minute tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you tapping out before I get to the fun part.”

“Is that supposed to sound intimidating, pussycat?” Subong asks, rolling his eyes.

Namgyu grins. “How about we continue this conversation in private? I’ll show you just how intimidating I can be.”

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me without a ref there to step in,” Subong says as he pushes in closer, making a show of looking down his nose at Namgyu. 

Namgyu bares his teeth and growls. 

Subong reaches up to flick Namgyu’s cheek. “Did you just purr at me? That’s cute.”

“Don’t get all excited, ajeossi,” Namgyu says, smacking Subong’s hand away. “An old man like you shouldn’t get too worked up. You might dislocate a hip.”

He leans in closer, keeping his words clear so the reporter’s mics are sure to pick it up when he says, “Or a shoulder.”

The collective intake of breath from the crowd has Namgyu beaming with pride. Subong’s dislocated shoulder was a huge deal three years ago. Speculation about whether or not he’d have to take an extended hiatus almost overshadowed his first championship title. Sure, he bounced back way more easily than everyone expected, but it’s quite satisfying to know that event is still fresh in people’s minds. It’s very fresh in Namgyu’s mind. That was a big day for him.

Subong huffs, face going red as he scowls at Namgyu. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you tomorrow. I’m not holding back.”

Namgyu’s grin widens when Subong tries to grab his throat. It’s a shame Hyunju pulls Subong away before he can get a good grip. Namgyu would’ve loved to have an excuse to really throw Subong down on the ground in front of all these reporters.

“I’d love to see you try,” he calls out as Myunggi drags him back to his side of the stage. 

Namgyu can’t wait to get in the ring tomorrow. He’s definitely winning their bet this time. 

(ง •̀_•́)ง    ୧(•̀_•́ ୧)

While the match between Seong “Final Boss” Gihun and Hwang “The Frontman” Inho is, technically, the headliner for tonight’s event, it’s clear from all the press coverage that everyone’s here to see Wildcat and Thanos square off. After all the taunting Subong’s been doing online, people are curious why a seasoned fighter like him would have such an intense fixation on someone who’s only been in the game for a year. The fact that he dropped from middleweight to welterweight just for this match is especially intriguing. 

Namgyu can feel the hype from out in the auditorium as Myunggi helps him with his stretches. The television in the corner of the locker room is barely giving any coverage to Kang Gyeongsu and Park Minsu, despite their match currently taking place in the ring. Namgyu would almost feel bad for them if he wasn’t so busy thinking about how he’s gonna destroy Subong in the first round. 

Gyeongsu and Minsu are relegated to a corner of the television screen as the commentators replay footage from Subong’s recent fight with Ali Abdul. They’re cringing at the superman punch Subong delivered in the second round, wishing Namgyu luck when he’s the one on the other side of Subong’s fist. Namgyu can’t wait to prove them wrong. 

“Don’t get too cocky,” Myunggi chastises as he presses at Namgyu’s lower back. “And don’t start off too aggressive.”

Namgyu rolls his eyes as he eases into a pancake stretch. “You afraid I won’t be able to keep up? You saw him yesterday. He’s gonna be winded before the first round ends.”

“Don’t be so sure. Have you seen him yet today?”

No, sadly, Namgyu has not. 

Myunggi sighs as he urges Namgyu onto his back so he can stretch his hamstrings. “Coach Cho said he’s back to eighty-four. If you use up all your energy in the first round, he’s going to be able to knock you over too easily.”

Namgyu knew Subong would bounce right back once he started drinking water again. It’s hardly a big deal, though. Namgyu’s not worried at all. Despite dropping the extra kilos he put on yesterday for the weigh-in, he’s still got all the muscle mass he’s gained over the past month. 

He’s more vicious than Subong, too. He’s not afraid to be brutal. Subong can be pretty ruthless, but he’s never been in a fight outside of the ring. Namgyu’s quite excited to give him a taste of what that’s like today. 

“Ugh, don’t come in here,” Myunggi groans. 

Namgyu turns his head to the side, grinning once he sees Subong, Hyunju, and the rest of Team Legend’s staff walking through the door of the locker room. 

Subong looks way better than he did yesterday. His skin is brighter and he’s not sweating buckets anymore. He kind of looks like he might be bigger than the last time Namgyu saw him, but that could just be because it’s been a whole month. Either way, Namgyu’s not worried. He beat Subong’s ass last time they sparred. He sits up, crossing his legs and gesturing for Subong to come over. 

“I told him not to,” Hyunju sighs, running a tired hand through her hair. “You know how he is.”

Myunggi lets out an exasperated breath and stands up. “Christ, okay. Namgyu, I’m keeping my eye on you. Focus on getting ready.”

Namgyu flips Myunggi off as he and Hyunju retreat to the other side of the locker room with the rest of their teams, no doubt eager to get some space from Namgyu and Subong. 

“You ready to get your ass beat?” Subong asks, brushing past Myunggi to squat on the ground next to Namgyu.

“Are you ready to get your shit rocked in the first five seconds?”

Subong rolls his eyes as he snatches Namgyu’s water bottle from the floor. “So much confidence for a guy who barely made weight.”

“Nasty,” Namgyu grumbles when Subong pulls the cap up and wraps his lips around it. 

Subong wiggles his eyebrows as he squeezes the bottle and drinks. He makes a show of pulling off with a wet pop . “So what’s your strategy this time? You gonna try Lightning Paw again, Gatomon?”

At least that cat comparison is a Holy-species Digimon. Still dumb and cute, but better than Choonsik or Nyokki. And the point deduction Namgyu got for clawing at Seon Hannam’s face eight months ago was totally worth it. That guy wouldn’t stop yanking Namgyu’s hair when it got loose from his ponytail. That should’ve resulted in a point deduction, but whatever. Namgyu still won in the end. He smirks and reaches out to swipe his fingernails over Subong’s cheek.

“Oh, Wildkitty’s still got his claws,” Subong chuckles as he hands Namgyu his water bottle. 

Namgyu snatches it back and takes a sip. “It’s Wildcat, dickwad.”

Subong keeps laughing as he gets in front of Namgyu, urging his legs into the butterfly pose. “Yeah, yeah. You know everyone online’s been calling you Kim Nyang-gyu?”

Yes, Namgyu is extremely aware of that. He scowls as Subong presses his knees down for an adductor stretch. “Shut up. Shouldn’t you be stretching? Your muscles aren’t what they used to be, ajeossi.”

“Please, this is a pity fight,” Subong scoffs. “I don’t need to waste my time getting ready when the match is gonna be over so quickly.”

“Subong, don’t be rude,” Hyunju says with a sigh. 

Namgyu shoots Subong a wink. “Listen to your trainer, grandpa.”

“You’ll be twenty-seven in four years too, you know,” Subong says with a grin. “It’s a shame your career’s gonna be over way before then.”

“It’s gonna be really embarrassing for you when you’re knocked out cold in the first thirty seconds.”

Subong giggles as he urges Namgyu’s ankles closer together. “I admire your confidence.”

He’s so annoying. Namgyu pulls his legs in closer, scrunching his nose when Subong puts more pressure on his knees. “I’ll be sure to visit you when I put you in the hospital. What kind of flowers do you want me to bring?”

“Like you could get close enough to land a single hit.”

“With a target this big,” Namgyu says, reaching up to rap his knuckles on the side of Subong’s head, “It won’t be difficult at all.”

Subong narrows his eyes, pressing Namgyu’s knees to the ground. Namgyu sucks in a breath at the stretch. 

“Aw, kitty, did I hurt you?” Subong coos. He pushes Namgyu’s chest, knocking him onto his back. “I promise I won’t be too rough in the ring.”

Namgyu glares at him as he guides his knee to the side for a supine twist. “You’re gonna feel real stupid when I knock you unconscious.”

“I’m eager to see you try.” 

Namgyu scoffs and sits up straight. “Get the fuck out of my locker room.”

Subong ignores him and plops down on the ground, grabbing Namgyu’s ankle and stretching his foot out. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

“Why?” Namgyu asks, kicking Subong’s stomach. “You gonna try to hit me with a stomp?”

“Don’t do any illegal moves, Subong,” Hyunju calls out from across the room. 

Subong shoots Namgyu a wink. “No promises.”

“It feels fine. Just like it has for three years,” Namgyu sighs. He kicks his foot out at Subong’s shoulder. “How ‘bout this, though? You ready for me to throw you down with a seoi nage?”

“You better not try that,” Myunggi snaps from where he’s sitting next to Hyunju. “Stick to the plan.”

He’s such a dick. Namgyu turns to glare at him.

Subong rolls his shoulder experimentally. It’s been years since he’s had to put athletic tape over it. Maybe Namgyu really will try a shoulder throw. Just maybe not with that particular arm. He’ll go for the left shoulder.

“Hmm,” Subong hums, stretching his shoulders back. “Only if you promise to kiss it better after.”

Namgyu kicks him again. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Suit yourself,” Subong says with a shrug. He gives Namgyu a pat on the head. “See ya in the ring, shorty. Don’t forget our bet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Namgyu says, groaning as bends forward into a dorsal stretch. “I won’t. Bye, asshole.”

“That’s Thanos the Great to you!” Subong calls out as he leads Hyunju and his team out of the locker room. He pauses for a moment, turning to shoot Namgyu a mischievous grin. “Or sunbae. Or hyung. Oppa, if you really want to.”

“Get the fuck out, Subong,” Namgyu sighs.

Subong chuckles. “Bye bye, Namsu!”

Ugh, him and the name joke. He’s been having such a blast calling Namgyu a whole slew of incorrect names in his social media posts. He’s been really enjoying Namsu this past week, ever since Namgyu made the mistake of accidentally liking one of the kitten comparison posts he tagged ‘Keum Namsu’ on. In Namgyu’s defense, the cat was cute and he was trying to take a screenshot. It’s not his fault Subong is addicted to his phone and saw the like immediately.

Namsu is slightly better than Nyang-gyu, anyway. At least that one isn’t a cat pun.

When the door slams shut, Myunggi lets out a sigh and crouches down next to Namgyu. “Don’t start off too aggressive. You can’t beat him if you use up all your energy in the first round.”

Fuck that. Namgyu’s got a surplus of energy. He’s gonna have Subong sprawled out on the mat the second he steps into the ring. The thought has him brimming with excitement as Myunggi forces him down on a bench to wrap gauze around his hands. 

(ง •̀_•́)ง    ୧(•̀_•́ ୧)

Subong has a very ridiculous walkout routine. It always takes way too long for him to finish flirting it up with the women in the crowd, so by the time he actually makes it to the ring, his entrance music—’Thanos’ by Ahn Byeong Woong, because why wouldn’t it be—has looped right back to the beginning. From there, the crowd is subjected to another three and a half minutes of him taking his sweet time shrugging off his glittery gold robe like he’s some kind of burlesque dancer, making a show of flexing his back muscles and pointing obnoxiously at the big tattoo plastered from the top of his neck to the base of his spine. Throughout the whole ordeal, the blinding purple strobe lights make it virtually impossible not to experience permanent retinal damage. 

Namgyu’s pacing around the perimeter of the net, feeling the energy coursing through him just begging for release, when Subong finally gets to the part where shoves his face in a camera and vows to take out half of humanity, starting with his current opponent. 

Not exactly orthodox to make a speech during a walkout. Subong has never been a particularly orthodox fighter. His big, smug face is filling up the jumbotron. It’s not long before his big, smug face is filling up Namgyu’s immediate vision. 

“You ready, Nyang-gyu?” Subong murmurs with a wide, devious smile. 

So fucking ready. After Namgyu wins this fight, he’s gonna finally have his own obnoxiously long, theatrical walkout routine instead of the appropriately brief one Myunggi put together for him. He’s gonna have his own gaudy robe instead of Jungle Gym’s standard black one. Everyone in the country is gonna know him as Wildcat, the guy who took down Thanos. He gets into his corner and stares Subong down as Myunggi puts the guard in his mouth.

“Conserve your energy,” Myunggi says, jabbing a finger in Namgyu’s face. 

Namgyu knocks his hand away. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Namgyu, I mean it. Don’t come in too hot.”

Geez, Myunggi’s such a stick in the mud. Namgyu’s going to come in hot and stay hot. 

He does exactly that the second he hears the bell. He rushes forward, eyes locked on Subong’s middle as he grabs onto his arms, hooks a foot around his calf, and throws him to the ground with a sweeping hip throw. 

Subong’s back hits the mat with a resounding thud . It must have taken him by surprise, judging from the way his eyes widen. Fucking score. Namgyu’s set the tone quite well, and even though Subong is back up in an instant with his usual smirk fixed on his face, it’s obvious he’s been caught off-guard.

Namgyu darts forward, getting in a solid hook to Subong’s left shoulder. It doesn’t do much, Subong’s regained his bearings, but that’s fine. Namgyu’s got loads of energy saved up, so he shuffles to the side, looking for an opening to land a hit to Subong’s torso. 

Another hook, right above the liver. Namgyu grins at the way Subong’s lip twitches. He won’t be smirking for long.

Namgyu ducks down, aiming for Subong’s stomach. He dodges the first jab, but the second lands under his pectoral. Excellent. Namgyu’s landed three hits and a throw and they’re not even a quarter through the first round. 

It’s slightly concerning when Subong just keeps his arms up in defense. Where’s the signature offense? The superman punches? The roundhouse kicks? Namgyu has studied his fighting style for long enough to know that he doesn’t ever hold back. He’s a striker, and an aggressive one at that. He had Cho Sangwoo bleeding from the mouth by the middle of the first round the last time they fought. Jang Deoksu was barely able to get a single hit in last year. Hell, even Ali Abdul was nearly knocked out seven weeks ago when Subong opened the fight with a gnarly uppercut.

Namgyu growls and says, “Don’t hold out on me.”

“You sure? No take backs.” 

Subong draws his arms back, sucking in a breath as he kicks his leg forward. 

It’s fast. Namgyu knew it was coming, but the impact is more intense than he was expecting. Subong definitely packed on some lean muscle during his cut. Namgyu huffs out a breath, stumbling backwards. 

He narrows his eyes in determination as he finds his footing. The kick has his ribs stinging, but he’s still on his feet, so he rounds up on Subong, pushing him back towards the net in a clinch. If he can get in another hip throw, he can have Subong trapped on the ground. His punches might not be as strong as his throws, but if Subong’s prone like that, this can all be over very quickly. Maybe he can even get Subong to tap out if he targets his face enough. Subong has always been annoying about getting his face too fucked up, the cocky bastard. 

Subong’s arms are back in front of his face. Perfect. His torso is vulnerable. Namgyu hooks his arms around Subong’s chest, locking them behind his back. He tucks his head under Subong’s chin. If he can stay like this, Subong won’t be able to see what he’s doing. Namgyu’s always been unpredictable, both back when he was fighting on the streets and in the ring. Subong’s not gonna know what to expect from him next. 

It’s for that reason Namgyu’s able to drop down, hooking his arms behind Subong’s knees for a double-leg takedown. The counter Subong attempts is unsuccessful. He’s flat on the ground before he can get another hit in. 

Namgyu can practically see this win already. They might not make it the full three rounds before Subong’s down for the count.

This is sick as hell. Namgyu’s grinning, even when Subong manages to wrap a leg around his calves. He’s still got the upper hand here. He’s on top, so he’s in a perfect position for a ground-and-pound. 

He gets an elbow in before Subong flashes him a grin of his own. It’s slightly disarming, seeing him smile like that after just taking an elbow to the face. The millisecond Namgyu’s guard is down, Subong throws up an elbow, hitting Namgyu right above his eye. 

The blood flowing from the cut makes it difficult to see properly, but he doesn’t have time to wipe it away. Subong is still tossing up elbows. 

“Poor kitty,” Subong coos sarcastically, using Namgyu’s momentary lack of vision to flip them over. “You wanna tap out?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namgyu growls as he jabs his knee up, dislodging himself out from under Subong. 

The round ends before Namgyu can get another hit in. Fuck.

“Fucking god damn it,” Myunggi huffs as the medic dabs at Namgyu’s split eyebrow. “You’re already losing stamina. Pace yourself.”

So maybe Namgyu’s breathing has picked up, but he’s still got energy. And he clearly won that round. Subong drew the first blood, but Namgyu’s offense was consistent. He took Subong down twice. 

Namgyu scoffs and swats the cotton ball the medic’s holding away from his face. “It was one lucky hit. I still got this.”

Subong peeks around from behind Hyunju and shoots Namgyu a wink. Namgyu grins back, holding his middle finger up as he drinks from his water bottle. He’s going to fucking destroy Subong in the next round. He won’t be able to wink at all once Namgyu hits him hard enough to make his eyes swell up. He won’t be able to post all those cringey thirst traps on his social media for weeks once Namgyu’s through with him. 

“Hey, focus,” Myunggi says, snapping his fingers in Namgyu’s face. “You need to up your defense. You’re not going to win if you keep showboating. Keep your arms up, and wait for the right time to land a hit.”

“You know that’s not my style.”

Myunggi groans and smacks the back of Namgyu’s head. “You want people to take you seriously as a fighter? Then act like a serious fighter.”

No one’s going to take him seriously if he cowers away from Subong the second he sees him buck forward. But Myunggi’s face is starting to look purple, and Namgyu just knows his trainer is gonna throw himself into a conniption fit if he voices that, so he leans against the net and says, “Fine. I’ll focus more on defense.”

Myunggi’s face settles back to a less alarming shade of puce. “Good. Let’s win this.”

Namgyu accepts the knuckle tap Myunggi offers him and gets back up. The dull ache on his ribs and forehead are long forgotten when the bell rings for the second round. Fuck Myunggi’s plan—he’s going to get Subong back on the ground immediately. He kicks his leg up high, aiming for Subong’s chest. 

The cross-jab Subong counters with hits Namgyu like a ton of bricks. His nose feels hot as his head snaps back. 

Fuck, his nose is bleeding. At least he’s not doubled over on the ground this time, and it doesn’t feel like it’s fractured. Still, Namgyu’s careful to keep his face neutral. No use giving the Thanos fanboys material to spam on social media. 

“Ouch,” Subong hisses, pulling an exaggerated pout. “Does that hurt? You want me to kiss it better?”

The retort Namgyu’s about to lob Subong’s way dies out when he gets a foot to the chin. It’s a brutal front kick, and it’s leaving Namgyu’s jaw tingling, but there’s no fucking way he’s going down. He stops himself from tripping, hopping from foot to foot to regain his balance. 

“How was that?” Subong taunts. “All better?”

Namgyu already knew Subong was a big talker. He’s constantly getting warnings for excessive trash talking when he’s in the ring. It’s distracting enough when he and Namgyu are sparring together, but it’s almost unnerving when they’re fighting for real. Namgyu just needs to block it out. 

He drowns Subong’s voice out and fakes low. He’s aiming for a hip throw when Subong sprawls and gets behind him. 

Unlike Namgyu, Subong is predictable. He’s got patterns to his fighting style. Namgyu just knows he’s going to go for a rear naked choke next.

So predictable. Namgyu’s already got his arms up over his face when he catches Subong’s forearm in his peripheral vision. 

Subong’s going to expect Namgyu to counter. Maybe turn around and go for a spinning backfist, or target his right shoulder. He’s not going to expect a dodge. 

Namgyu drops down to the mat, rolling away from Subong’s range just in time to avoid a choke. He beams in satisfaction when he hears the crowd cheer. They’re going to be replaying that defense on SPOTV for a while. Myunggi must be very pleased right now. 

Namgyu doesn’t have time to check his trainer’s expression. Subong’s back on him the second he’s up from the mat, landing combos before Namgyu can fully process what’s in front of him. 

This is predictable, though. There’s the ruthless striker Namgyu was anticipating. He hangs in, keeping his forearms tight to his face between jabs and crosses. Subong stays on him, forcing him to keep light on his feet as he attempts to circle in from behind. 

But Namgyu’s got an advantage with his weight. He’s quicker. He ducks down, narrowly missing an uppercut to the face and hits Subong with a clean jab to the sternum. It’s met with a front kick, but Namgyu doesn’t stumble this time. He manages a roundhouse kick to Subong’s side that has him pushing out air from his lungs. 

It’s hard to keep track of his hits from there. Subong’s fast—that famous stamina of his keeping him stable and quick with his offense. Namgyu hangs in close, looking for openings where he can. By the time the bell rings, his nose is sore, he’s got a bruise forming on his stomach next to the one already starting to take shape on his ribs, but he feels good. That defensive roll was a pivotal moment. People are definitely taking him seriously now. 

“You fucking buffon,” Myunggi grumbles as he watches the medic check Namgyu’s nose for fractures. “The fuck was that front kick at the beginning?”

Namgyu can’t exactly respond. Myunggi’s aggressively squirting water into his mouth. He just lifts a hand to flip Myunggi off. 

Myunggi groans and squirts some water in Namgyu’s face. “Get your shit together for this last round. You and Subong are tied, so if you don’t lock in, you’re losing.”

“What?” Namgyu sputters, wiping the water from his eyes. “I totally had that round. Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you,” Myunggi says sharply. “He had you forced into a defensive guard for half the round. He set the pace. You barely managed to scrape by here.”

That’s such an exaggeration. Namgyu was setting the pace just as much as Subong was. That defensive roll is going to earn him some major points for his fight IQ. If anything, that round was a tie. He’s still in the lead. 

“Just look at him,” Myunggi says, gesturing over to Subong across the ring. “Which one of you is bleeding from multiple orifices right now?”

Okay, sure, Subong’s looking pretty fresh, but he’s coated in sweat and breathing hard. He’s going to be tired in the final round, and Namgyu’s totally going to be able to use that to his advantage and draw some blood of his own. Besides, it’s not like Subong left the second round completely unscathed. The side of his torso is bright red. That’s going to turn into a pretty deep bruise soon. Judging from the location, it’s going to make it hard for him to maintain flexibility. 

“He’s clearly losing energy,” Namgyu scoffs. “There’s no way he’s making it through another round.”

Myunggi smacks the back of his head. “Quit being delusional. Your only hope right now is to get him in a triangle choke and hold on for dear life. You need a tap out or a TKO to win this.”

It’s not a bad plan. If Namgyu can throw Subong back on the mat, it wouldn’t be hard to wrap his legs around his head and keep him down. And with Subong’s side all fucked up like that, it’ll take him a while to regain his bearings once Namgyu slams him to the ground. 

Subong’s gonna be expecting Namgyu to keep trying for sweeping hip throws. Despite all the smack talk back in the locker room, an actual shoulder throw will be very unexpected. 

“You think I can manage a seoi nage?”

Myunggi smacks the back of his head again. “No. Just do a trip.”

“Hey,” Namgyu grumbles, rubbing his head. “You’re supposed to be coaching me, not beating me up.”

“I am coaching you. Do a trip. Don’t try to show off when we’re this close to the end.”

Namgyu sighs and wipes the blood from his face with a towel. “You really think I can’t do it?”

“I know you can’t,” Myunggi scoffs. “Your delts aren’t developed enough. And even if you went for a drop seoi nage, Subong’s too fast. He’ll catch on too quickly. He’ll have you in a submissive hold and then it’ll all be over.”

Jesus, it’s hardly the best pep talk Namgyu’s gotten in his life. He glances back at Subong, where he and Hyunju are huddled close together. Namgyu bets Hyunju isn’t insulting Subong’s deltoids. She’s probably hyping him up, telling him to go in for the kill. 

It’s unbelievably frustrating. Myunggi’s never had confidence in him. To be fair, no one has, except for one person. 

That person’s going to be his coach soon. Once this fight is over, regardless of the outcome, Namgyu is definitely leaving Jungle Gym. He’ll be getting praised for his risk-taking instead of yelled at for it. 

The thought has him grinning as he gets up for the third round. Myunggi’s gonna be so pissed off when he loses the best fighter he ever had. Sure, Daeho and Yongsik are good, and they’ve got all those years of experience, but they’re not Namgyu.

“Whatcha smiling about, kitty?” Subong asks teasingly as they round up on each other. 

Namgyu’s ignoring him. Now is hardly the time for trading taunts. He’s gotta lock in and weaken Subong’s defense if he’s going to get the opening for a shoulder throw. 

He goes for a cross. Subong blocks it. Subong goes for an overhand. Namgyu dodges out of the way. 

This is good. They just need to keep this up, and Subong’s gonna start tiring out. He’s already starting to look tired when the first minute slugs on with them just striking and blocking and circling around each other. 

It’s good. Namgyu feels confident when he catches an opening at Subong’s throat. Subong’s got stamina, but he’s tired. His reaction time is going to be slow. Namgyu twists around, landing a spinning back elbow to the middle of Subong’s throat. 

It’s not enough to knock Subong out, but he stumbles, and Namgyu can hear the collective gasp from the crowd. Another key moment for the highlight reel, illegal as the hit may be. Namgyu’s known for bending the rules, though. He bounces on the balls of his feet, beaming at Subong as he coughs and rubs the back of his wrist against his throat. 

“Watch it,” the referee calls out.

Subong waves a hand dismissively at the referee, shooting Namgyu a grin as sucks in a breath. “Holy fuck, kitty cat. Ow.”

Namgyu lifts his arms back up, sure to keep his smirk visible. “Thanks.”

Maybe Namgyu shouldn’t be focusing so much on the response from the crowd and Subong’s praise. It’s a bad idea to let himself get distracted for even a moment, but he does, and it earns him a kick right to the solar plexus.

It hurts. And the force behind it sends him flying back against the net. It feels like Subong put his entire body weight into it. Namgyu’s struggling to catch his breath when Subong closes in on him and starts raining punches.

It’s happening too fast for Namgyu to keep up. Every time he tries to block, Subong just finds a new spot to land hits on. It’s when he feels a hit to the back of his head—right on the spot Myunggi kept hitting, Jesus Christ—that the referee steps back in. 

“Keep it clean, Choi,” he warns, shooting a stern look at Subong. 

It’s the tone of his voice that gets Namgyu’s fire reignited. He looks more serious calling this foul, like Subong’s supposed to be holding back or something. The tinge of concern when he glances over at Namgyu is doing more than enough to get Namgyu back in the game.

He shakes off the throbbing pain at the base of his skull and darts out from under Subong’s arms. 

This is his chance. Subong’s gonna turn around, and he'll be caught off guard when Namgyu shows his back to him. Then Namgyu can grab his left arm and throw him over his shoulder. 

It’ll be difficult, using his non-dominant side for this throw. Namgyu knows he can do it, though. Fuck Myunggi. Namgyu’s deltoids are plenty developed on both sides.

Just as predicted, Subong’s arms are up when he spins around, high up in front of his chest and blocking his throat. It’s the perfect opening. Namgyu’s heart is hammering as he turns, grabbing on tight to Subong’s forearm with one hand and gripping him under his armpit with the other. 

He sucks in a breath, tightens his core, and puts all his strength into it. 

Subong lands on the mat with a resonant smack . 

Holy fuck. Namgyu fucking did it. He bleats out a laugh as he scrambles to the mat and hooks his legs around Subong’s head. 

Fucking Myunggi doesn’t know shit. Namgyu’s strong. He’s a talented fighter. And now, everyone in the Taegeuk FC is going to know that. Shit, the whole mixed martial arts world is going to know that. This is the moment that the commentators are going to pour over. He just fucking flipped Thanos the Great over his head. 

Frankly, Namgyu’s too happy about this to get upset when his momentary distraction has Subong breaking out of his triangle choke. It’s a small lapse. He can still recover from this. He darts back, aiming to get Subong immobilized with a kick to the knee. 

He misses. Subong lands a harsh jab to his chest, right above the hit to his solar plexus. His back is on the mat before he can even process what direction he’s facing. 

And then Subong’s got him in a guillotine choke. It’s a familiar move, one that Namgyu’s seen him execute plenty of times. It’s the one he used to knock Hwang Junho out in his first championship title match three years ago. The same amount of pressure that had a guy as big as The Policeman out cold is being applied to Namgyu’s neck. 

His vision starts to blur. He claws desperately at Subong’s arm, struggling to get a grip between the pounding in his skull and the sweat on his gloves. 

Even when he manages to squirm his way out and land one final elbow jab to Subong’s chest, he’s got a feeling it’s over. The bell is going to ring any second now. He doesn’t have time to get Subong back in another submissive hold. 

It’s hard to feel bummed about it when the bell does ring. He still got out of the choke—Hwang never managed to do that. Even Abdul didn’t make it all three rounds against Subong without tapping out. Namgyu did really fucking good. It’s going to be a close call, he’s certain. Whether he wins or loses, he proved something big today. 

“Hey,” Subong whispers breathlessly as he rolls on his side, giving Namgyu a tap to his shoulder. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Namgyu grins. He’s pretty fucking proud of himself too. 

(ง •̀_•́)ง    ୧(•̀_•́ ୧)

29-28. It’s a very close call. 

Subong tosses his arms in the air when the announcer calls his name. A signature Thanos post-win move—fists up, head thrown back as he lets out a celebratory yell. 

He circles the ring, thumping his chest as he grins at the crowd. ‘Thanos’ by Ahn Byeong Woong comes blaring through the speakers as purple lights cast the auditorium in a shock of neon glow. 

“It was close,” Myunggi says, thumping a hand on Namgyu’s shoulder. “You did good.”

He sounds so surprised. Of course he never thought Namgyu could do so well. Namgyu puts on a smile and follows Myunggi back to the locker room. 

(ง •̀_•́)ง    ୧(•̀_•́ ୧)

“Thanos, how confident were you feeling when you were waiting for the decision?”

Subong shoots a wink at the camera as he leans in close to the reporter’s mic. “I never doubted it for a second.”

The reporter nods, pulling the mic back to ask, “Were you impressed by Wildcat’s prowess? It was a close call in the end.”

“Sure, he’s fine for a newbie,” Subong says with a shrug. “He could be a champion one day, with the right training.”

He looks directly at the camera, a wide grin spreading across his flushed cheeks.

“Wildkitty, stop by Team Legend any time you like. I’d be happy to teach you some of my moves.”

Namgyu rolls his eyes as Myunggi unwraps the gauze from his hands. “So cocky.”

Myunggi gives him a consolatory pat on the thigh. “Once you’ve been fighting for nearly a decade, you can be cocky too. In the meantime, you need to work on your defense. You really could’ve had it if you didn’t let yourself get distracted so easily.”

So ridiculous. Namgyu has been fighting for nearly a decade, not that Myunggi gives enough of a shit to acknowledge that. 

Namgyu drowns out Myunggi’s rantings, focusing instead on the television. Subong’s doing his usual post-win peacocking, flexing for the camera and giving the fans high fives. Namgyu barks out a laugh when Subong winks and blows a kiss at the camera.

“Are you listening?” Myunggi asks incredulously. “Seriously, Namgyu, you got pretty lucky with that shoulder throw, but I explicitly told you not to try that! You’re taking risks that you do not have the reputation to be taking. What if you fucked up? What if Subong caught up and pinned you to the mat? This would’ve been a win by submission if that happened, you know. All those points you scored in the other rounds wouldn’t have meant jack shit.”

Fucking ridiculous. Namgyu didn’t fuck up, so none of that even matters. He stands up, pushing past Myunggi to get to his locker.

Myunggi trails behind him. “You realize I’m your coach, right? That means I coach you, and you listen to me. You think I’m just spewing shit out of my ass?” He sighs, scraping a hand through his hair as his face gets progressively more purple. “You know why Daeho’s on track to becoming a champion? Because he fucking listens to me. He follows strategy, he’s consistent, he doesn’t take unnecessary risks. I mean, remember your fight with Park Minsu? You should’ve had that, and you didn’t , because you fucking insisted on showing off with some half-assed corner drop—”

“Oh my god ,” Namgyu groans, thumping his forehead on his locker. “I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No, what I want to hear is that you’re gonna start listening to me!”

A ‘congratulations’ would be nice. Far be it from Myunggi to do something nice for Namgyu, though. He saves that solely for Daeho and Yongsik. Namgyu scowls as he shrugs on his t-shirt, careful to avoid making too much contact with the bruises on his torso. 

“Just get the fuck out of my face and let me go home,” he says once he’s dressed. “My head fucking hurts and I wanna finally sleep in my own bed again.”

“Fine,” Myunggi says, tossing his hands in the air. “We’re talking about this tomorrow. Rest up, because I’m not letting you pull this shit for your next fight.”

Namgyu keeps his forehead pressed to his locker as he waves Myunggi off. He waits until he hears the door slam before taking out his phone and making a call. 

He feels instantly better when he presses the phone to his ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, jagi! You ready to go home?”

Namgyu grins. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon, hyung.”

(ง •̀_•́)ง ⸝⸝Three Years Ago ⸝⸝ ୧(•̀_•́ ୧)

Thanos the Great just won his first championship title. Namgyu nearly falls out of his chair when the announcer calls the fight.

He’s so busy grinning at his phone screen and admiring the way Thanos looks as he circles the ring with his fists in the air, he doesn’t notice that Daejung’s back with the ice pack he promised to get until it’s being held against his ankle. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, flinching back in his seat. His foot thumps painfully against the armrest. 

Daejung lets out a deep sigh and picks Namgyu’s foot up, placing it on his lap. “Stop moving around. You’re gonna make it worse.”

He’s been saying that all night. Namgyu’s still simmering about Daejung telling him to ‘just let Taehyun take this one.’ So maybe it was a stupid idea to go for so many sweeps when his foot is already fucked up. Sweeps are what he’s good at. Sweeps are what will make him a champion one day. 

“Quit pouting,” Daejung chastises. “You should’ve listened to me. At least then we’d be going home with some profit.”

Namgyu ignores him, turning up the volume on his phone and pointedly adjusting his earbuds. He’s not in the mood to hear Daejung yell at him for fucking up his bets again. It was rude as hell for him to bet against Namgyu tonight in the first place. Usually he at least pretends to have faith in Namgyu. 

And there’s no fucking way Namgyu would ever willingly throw a fight. Sure, Taehyun’s bigger than him, and it was no secret he was still nursing his sprain from two weeks ago, but he’s got integrity. He’s not going to hang back and let someone beat him just because it’ll earn his cousin a couple extra won.

It’s all worth it anyway. His ankle is swollen, and it’s clear he’s fractured a rib with how pained each breath is, but he still won. He had Taehyun sprawled out unconscious on the concrete, even with his disadvantage. 

“You think it’s broken?” Daejung asks, tapping Namgyu’s ankle. 

Namgyu holds his phone up over his face, blocking Daejung out. His ankle probably is broken this time, but whatever. Thanos just won his first championship title with a dislocated shoulder. He barely even reacted when Hwang Junho had him caught in a kimura that left his arm twisted behind his back at a particularly grotesque angle. Namgyu could practically hear the ‘pop’ when his joint shifted out of its socket, but he still got back up and took Hwang Junho out with a guillotine choke.

Namgyu keeps his eyes locked on his phone screen and watches Thanos run across the ring with his non-injured arm raised high in celebration. Thanos won his fight despite his injury, just like Namgyu did. The only difference is Thanos is getting applauded for his perseverance. Namgyu is getting yelled at by his cousin in a shitty emergency department. 

Daejung shakes his head disapprovingly as he presses the ice pack to Namgyu’s ankle. “This isn’t the TFC, man. You don’t have some ref there to save your ass when you’re getting too sloppy.”

The pressure from the ice pack has Namgyu sucking in a pained breath, nearly dropping his phone to the floor. 

“Shut up,” Namgyu grumbles before Daejung can say anything about it.

“Seriously, you’re never gonna make a career out of this if you keep acting stupid. You’re gonna be retired before you officially hit twenty.”

Wow, that’s fucking rude, considering what tomorrow is. Namgyu sits up, pulling his ankle off Daejung's lap as he snaps, “If you’re gonna be a dick, just leave. I can take care of this on my own.”

“Fine,” Daejung sighs, standing up. “I’m not helping you out next time. Drag your own ass to the hospital.”

Like he was ever helpful in the first place. He’s a sorry excuse for a ‘coach.’ He doesn’t even know anything about martial arts. He’s just got a particular talent for convincing sloshed gamblers to bet their money on the fighter he himself doesn’t even have any confidence in. Tonight just proved what Namgyu already knew to be true. Daejung really doesn’t believe in him. He bet against his own cousin. Namgyu flips him off. 

Daejung tuts as he walks towards the door. “See you at the party tomorrow, I guess. Try not to limp too much. You know your mom’s gonna freak.”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, whatever. Happy almost birthday.”

A ‘congratulations’ for his win would’ve been nice, but far be it from Daejung to actually give Namgyu a gift for his birthday. He’s just as frugal with his compliments as he is with his money. 

Whatever. Namgyu doesn’t need to be congratulated to know he did well. It’s not like he even needs his cousin to coach him in the first place. He taught himself martial arts all on his own. 

He returns his attention to his phone. Thanos is giving his post-fight interview, and it’s clear from the pinched expression on his face that his shoulder is really fucked up. When the camera pans back, Namgyu can see that his arm is hanging awkwardly from its socket. Still, he’s grinning. He’s looking directly at the camera, promising to wipe out half of humanity, one match at a time. 

It’s cocky. It’s very theatrical. Namgyu wishes he was there to cheer Thanos on in person. He wishes he was Thanos, honestly. Despite winning his own fight, he still feels like a massive loser.

It sucks. It seems like no matter how many fights he wins, no matter how many bigger guys he takes on and defeats, he’s still just a loser in everyone’s eyes. Even Daejung always acts surprised when a match is ruled in Namgyu’s favor. He never says congratulations. He always tells Namgyu to be less stupid in the next fight. It really fucking sucks. 

Fuck it, Namgyu’s not going to think about it. He’s going to take a nap instead. 

He clears his mind as he shuffles down in his seat, elevating his ankle on the armrest and trying to keep his breaths shallow to avoid pressure on his ribs. It’ll probably be hours before a nurse finally calls him back. Maybe he’ll officially be twenty before he’s even had his blood pressure taken. The emergency room is practically empty tonight, but the doctors here have seen him enough times to stop prioritizing him when he comes in limping and covered in blood. They’ll take their sweet time, let him suffer a bit in a futile effort to get him to stop coming in every other week. 

He’s asleep for probably an hour and a half when he’s woken up by an influx of rushed, harried voices. It’s not particularly loud, but it’s a pretty stark contrast to the silence filling the room before. He blinks awake, pulling out an earbud to see what all the fuss is about. 

It’s a bit hard to see what’s happening with all the nurses and people in gold jackets blocking the way, but Namgyu’s heart starts beating fast before he can make out any familiar faces. He knows those jackets. 

It’s the flash of purple that has him shooting up from his seat. He recognizes that shade of purple. He’s been watching it religiously since he was fourteen years old. 

Thanos looks different in person. It’s a bit strange—he looks shockingly human. He looks taller on television. His shoulder somehow looks worse when it’s hidden under a jacket than when it was exposed and illuminated under the arena lights. Namgyu has a deep, primal need to talk to him. 

And say what, exactly, he isn’t totally sure. Congratulate him, obviously. But he also wants to ask why he’s here of all places, because it doesn’t make a lot of sense. The fight tonight was in JBK Convention Hall. Thanos should be in a fancy Gangnam hospital, not this run-down sorry excuse for an emergency department in Gwanak. 

But then Namgyu sees Coach Cho Hyunju whispering something to the gaggle of nurses, and it clicks. Thanos is a champion now. He needs to keep a low profile. If his competitors knew he was injured badly enough to require a trip to the emergency room, it would be all over SPOTV by morning. 

So Bongcheon Community Hospital’s reputation for discreetly treating fighters must’ve spread its way to the TFC. Namgyu knew he saw Park Yongsik here a couple months ago. Fuck, if only he wasn’t so busy throwing up into a trash can from the gut punch Kim Gimin subjected him to in the final round, he could’ve asked for an autograph.

But then again, he probably wouldn’t have been able to get one regardless. If Park Yongsik came all the way here, it must’ve been to avoid attention. The same must be the case for Thanos.

It’s a theory Namgyu has confirmed when one of the assistant coaches steps up to him and asks, “Would you turn your phone off, please?”

Namgyu holds the power button down distractedly, unable to take his eyes off Thanos as he checks in at the front desk. Namgyu needs to talk to him. He’ll never get a chance like this again.

“Thank you.”

“Uh huh,” Namgyu murmurs. 

Thanos is right there, just a few meters away from him. It’s a dumb idea, he’s probably going to get tackled before he can get close enough to say anything, but when is he ever going to get an opportunity like this? Namgyu stands up, hissing when he inadvertently puts weight on his fractured ankle, and hobbles over towards Thanos.

“Excuse me,” the assistant coach says, grabbing Namgyu’s coat. “Please don’t approach him—”

“Jesus, bro. What the fuck happened to your face?”

Holy fuck. Thanos just talked to him. Namgyu grins, feeling the cut on his lip split back open. “I was fighting.”

He pauses. This is not a necessary detail, Thanos totally didn’t ask, but still—

“I won.”

Thanos lets out a laugh. “Well, shit. The other guy must be pretty fucked up.”

It’s fair enough. Anyone else, and Namgyu might feel offended, but Thanos really doesn’t look all that fresh himself. His black eye is just as gnarly as the bruise on Namgyu’s jaw. They’re both sweaty and hobbling around with busted limbs. They both came out on top in the end.

Namgyu nods excitedly. “I knocked him out.”

“Congratulations,” Thanos says, holding out his non-injured hand for a fistbump. 

Holy, actual fuck. Thanos just congratulated him. And now their knuckles are touching. Namgyu’s grinning so hard, he can feel blood starting to seep down his chin. He probably looks insane right now. He definitely does. He needs to congratulate Thanos back. He quickly swipes his hand over his chin and says, “Thank you, Thanos-nim! Congratulations to you, too. I mean- Holy shit. You’re amazing.”

Thanos grins. “Thank you. You a fan?”

Namgyu nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, a huge fan. Fuck, you’re my inspiration. I’ve been watching you since I was fourteen, and I learned to fight because of you, and—”

“Fuck, you’re making me feel old,” Thanos chuckles. “How long ago was that?”

Thanos is talking to him. They’re holding an actual conversation. Namgyu beams and says, “Six years ago.”

“Wow,” Thanos says, eyes crinkling. “So you’ve been there since the beginning. That’s really cool. What’s your name?”

Thanos just asked his name. This is massive. Holy fuck. Namgyu’s grinning like a complete lunatic as he says, “Kim Namgyu.”

“Nice to meet you, Kim Namgyu.”

Namgyu’s got stars in his eyes. Thanos is so fucking cool. And really nice. His voice sounds deeper in person than it does on television. His eyes are so bright. On second thought, he doesn’t look shockingly human. He looks ethereal. 

“It’s so nice to meet you too, Thanos-nim.”

Thanos waves his non-injured hand dismissively through the air. “You can call me Subong.”

Namgyu is on first name basis with Thanos the Great. This is the best night of his life. He’s on the verge of swooning. He might actually fall over if he doesn’t stop putting weight on his ankle. He readjusts his weight to his non-injured foot and says, “Okay, Subong-nim.”

“Subong-hyung is fine.”

Namgyu’s been calling Subong hyung in his head for the past five years, but now he can do it to his face. This is the best. He accidentally bounces on his feet a little from the excitement of it all. He is definitely going to fall over if these dumbass doctors don’t put his stupid ankle in a cast soon. He kind of hopes they never call him back, though. He wants to keep talking to Subong.

“Woah, careful there,” Subong says, cringing a bit when Namgyu hisses in pain. “Is your foot broken? You should sit down.”

Subong reaches forward, and it looks like he’s maybe going to touch Namgyu’s elbow, holy fuck, but then Hyunju taps Subong’s non-injured shoulder and says, “Come on, the doctor’s ready for you.”

Subong looks between his trainer and Namgyu, lips pulling down in a frown. “Namgyu was here first.”

Namgyu flushes red. “No, it’s fine. I haven’t been here very long. Please go ahead.”

“No way,” Subong says resolutely. “Your foot is broken. And it looks like your breathing is off. Did you get hit in the ribs? You need to get checked out before you puncture a lung.”

Holy shit, Choi “Thanos the fucking Great” Subong cares about Namgyu’s lung getting punctured. This is incredible. Namgyu can’t wait to tell Daejung. Actually, he can’t wait to rub it in his stupid cousin’s face. Him fucking off is, in hindsight, the best birthday gift he could have ever given Namgyu. This is Namgyu’s moment, and his alone. Hah. 

“You need to get your shoulder looked at right now,” Hyunju says sternly. “Come on.”

Subong brushes her off. “Tell them to see Namgyu first.”

“You need to get back home soon. Just come on,” Hyunju sighs. She turns to look at Namgyu pleadingly. “You understand, don’t you?”

Namgyu nods. “Yes, of course.”

Subong purses his lips together, eyebrows set in a determined line. “They’ll see us together, then.”

It’s not exactly orthodox for a doctor to see two patients at once. Subong has never been a particularly orthodox fighter, though, and he’s got a commanding energy about him that has Hyunju stepping aside as he gestures for a nurse to lead him and Namgyu down the hall. 

“You don’t need to do this,” Namgyu says, feeling his face get progressively hotter when Subong loops a hand around his waist. “I’m fine with waiting.”

Subong shakes his head resolutely and adjusts his grip. With his injured shoulder, he’s not being remarkably helpful with Namgyu’s limping, but still. Holy shit. Subong is helping him walk. Namgyu’s very thankful that Taehyun took it upon himself to kick his ankle so many times. If he didn’t, Subong wouldn’t be holding Namgyu up like this. 

“Nope,” Subong says as he helps Namgyu down the hall. “You need medical attention.”

It’s kinda funny. Namgyu is a complete stranger to Subong. Subong is, technically, a stranger to him. But for the first time, it feels like someone actually kind of gives a shit about him. Even when Shiwoo had him nearly in a coma and bleeding internally for days two years ago, no one gave much of a crap. His mom had a fit, sure, but Daejung just chastised him for his poor defense and bemoaned the financial loss he’d go through with Namgyu bedridden for a month. Subong, however, is holding him up so carefully.

Choi fucking Subong is holding his waist. Namgyu’s gonna pass the fuck out. It’s a good thing he’s already in a hospital.

“Thanks, hyung,” Namgyu says when a nurse brings them to a room. 

Subong shrugs as he plops himself down on a chair, gesturing for Namgyu to take the cot. “No need to thank me. It’s wack as hell that they’d make you wait just ‘cus I showed up.”

“They would’ve made me wait regardless. They hate seeing me come in.”

“Why?” Subong asks.

“I get injured a lot.”

Subong nods in understanding. “In your matches?”

“Yeah,” Namgyu says, settling down on the cot and propping his ankle up on a pillow. 

It’s gotta be pretty obvious what kinds of matches Namgyu’s talking about, given the scars littered across his knuckles and the scrapes on his palms and knees. The kinds of matches he’s in don’t have gloves to protect your hands or soft mats to land on. It’s not rare at all for fighters to come out with broken bones and punctured lungs. 

“So tell me about this fight,” Subong prompts.

Namgyu grins and sits up on the cot, careful to keep pressure off his lungs. It was a pretty sick fight, if he can say so himself. He had Taehyun knocked out in under five minutes. If it was a real Taegeuk FC match, he’d be taking home a title tonight, too. He’s sure to tell Subong all about that. Maybe it’s a little cocky, but come on. Namgyu won, and he’s finally got someone listening who seems to care about that.

He’s probably saying too much, but it’s hard to keep his mouth shut when Subong is listening so intently. He’s not reaching for his phone to alert the authorities. He’s just nodding along, grinning when Namgyu describes the hits he got in, cringing as he describes the hits from Taehyun. His eyebrows raise in intrigue when Namgyu gets to the end. “I’d love to see you fight one of these days. You have a gym?”

“No,” Namgyu says, feeling slightly embarrassed as he picks at the sheets. 

“You should sign up for one. It sounds like you’re really good.”

Namgyu perks up. “Really? Wanna see a video?”

Subong’s probably just being polite. He doesn’t actually give a shit about Namgyu’s fights, and even if he did, it’s probably not a great idea to show explicit evidence of illegal street fighting to an MMA champion. For all Namgyu knows, Subong could swipe his phone and give it to the police. 

But Subong leans forward in his chair and says, “Yeah, I’d love that.”

Choi Subong wants to see Namgyu fight. It’s a good thing Namgyu’s already on a cot. He’s feeling pretty damn close to passing out when he takes out his phone and pulls up the video of him knocking Song Bongsu out with a double-leg takedown two weeks ago. The ankle sprain he got from it is totally worth it, especially when Subong lets out a surprised huff and claps a hand on Namgyu’s shin.

“Holy fuck, you’re really good. You said you taught yourself how to do all that?”

Namgyu beams with pride. “Yeah, from watching MMA matches. You taught me how to strike.”

“Who’d you pick up the judo from? It looks like that’s your speciality.”

It is Namgyu’s speciality. Holy crap. Choi Subong was invested enough in the video to pick up on what Namgyu’s good at. This is amazing. Namgyu’s gonna have to buy Taehyun a drink as thanks for landing him in the emergency room. And as an apology for knocking him out. He’s probably fine, though. His skull is very thick.

“Lee Myunggi,” Namgyu says as he internally vows to hit Taehyun up for drinks tomorrow. “I watch his old matches online all the time.”

Subong sits up straighter, eyes wide and determined. “You know, he’s about to open up a new gym in Seocho. You should ask him to be your coach.”

Lee Myunggi’s coming out of retirement to run his own gym. Choi Subong thinks Namgyu should be training with a former champion. This is far more than Namgyu’s prepared to handle right now. He’s smiling so hard, he can feel blood oozing from his split lip again. 

“Shit,” Subong says, grabbing a wad of paper towels from above the sink and dabbing it at Namgyu’s lip. “Where the fuck is a doctor when you need one?”

Subong just touched his lip, kind of. His idol just wiped blood from his face and told him he should be training with the most famous featherweight fighter in Korea. Namgyu’s on cloud fucking nine. 

When Dr. Pak finally does arrive, Subong makes such a show of complaining about Namgyu’s lackluster treatment, she barely has time to question why she’s got two patients in one room. 

“Treat him first,” Subong says, staring her down and crossing his uninjured arm over his chest. 

Dr. Pak blinks. “Okay.”

It’s a little embarrassing, having to take his shirt off in front of Subong, but it seems rude to ask him to step out. And he’s so invested in making sure Namgyu gets proper medical treatment, Namgyu kind of doesn't want to ask him to leave anyway. This hospital never gives him proper medical treatment. They just sigh, give him a script for painkillers, and tell him to stop getting into trouble all the time. 

For once, Dr. Pak actually goes through the whole check-up process. She doesn’t even yell at Namgyu for making his ankle injury worse. In fact, she gives him a lollipop.

“I’m not a child,” Namgyu grumbles as he unwraps the paper. 

Dr. Pak shrugs. “I know. Happy birthday.”

“What!” Subong gasps. “Why didn’t you tell me it’s your birthday?”

It’s not like Namgyu really had the opportunity to fit that particular bit of information into the conversation. He was far too busy admitting to doing crimes. He flushes and says, “It’s not my birthday yet. It’s tomorrow.”

“It’s already tomorrow,” Dr. Pak says, handing a lollipop to Subong. “Namgyu, go sit in the corner and eat your lollipop. I need to treat Mr. Choi.”

She’s so rude. Everyone in this hospital is so rude. Namgyu gets off the bed and switches places with Subong, glaring at Dr. Pak as she applies ointment to Subong’s black eye. 

It’s a little hard to keep glaring when he’s watching Subong take his shirt off. His muscles look even more defined in person than they do on television. He doesn’t even flinch when Dr. Pak shoves his arm back into its socket. He’s so cool. Namgyu’s a little slaw-jacked when Subong gets his shirt back on and unwraps his lollipop.

Namgyu might be staring at Subong’s mouth a little bit. It’s very difficult not to. Even with a quickly-darkening bruise marring the corner, he’s got a nice mouth. It’s no wonder he was voted the sexiest TFC fighter last year. 

Namgyu may have cast a vote for him. It’s terribly embarrassing. Hopefully the TFC website doesn’t reveal the names of the voters to the winner. It probably doesn’t. Namgyu keeps his head down to hide the flush on his cheeks as he and Subong limp their way back to the waiting room.

“How’s the cast feel?” Subong asks. He’s still sucking on his lollipop. He’s got very nice lips. They look even nicer in person than they do on television. It would probably be a massive privacy law violation if the TFC revealed the names of the voters. And even if it did, Namgyu’s just one of, like, 10,000 people. Subong totally doesn’t know. Probably. Oh god.

“Amazing,” Namgyu says, a little dazed. “How’s the sling?”

Subong shrugs his shoulder, jostling the sling on his arm. “Surprisingly fine. So how are you getting home?”

Right. Namgyu has to go home now. That sucks. It’s gonna really suck walking two kilometers on crutches, but he’s definitely been through worse. He’s got a broken ankle and a cracked rib, but his lungs are totally fine. And he just had a lollipop. Pretty good, all things considered. Namgyu adjusts the crutches under his arms and says, “I live nearby.”

“You’re not walking, are you?” Subong asks, eyebrows pinching in concern.

Before Namgyu can respond, Subong’s gesturing at Hyunju and saying, “Can we drop Namgyu off on the way? He needs a ride.”

Namgyu flushes red. “No, that’s fine. It’s not a long walk.”

“You’re walking?” Hyunju asks incredulously, eyes scanning over the cast on his foot and the crutches under his arms. “Absolutely not. What’s your address?”

Much like Subong, she has a very commanding energy about her. There’s a reason her nickname was Machine Gun back in her fighting days. She’s a little scary, especially when she makes a show of glaring at Namgyu when he tries to say no. 

“You said you’re a fighter, right? If you fuck up your foot too badly, you won’t be able to keep fighting.”

It’s a fair point. And, selfishly, Namgyu really wants a reason to keep talking to Subong. He smiles sheepishly and gives her his address.

“What are you doing for your birthday?” Subong asks when they’re in the backseat of Hyunju’s car. “Anything special?”

Namgyu’s supposed to be having dinner with his family. He had plans to invite Taehyun out for a drink. He shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

“Wanna come with me to Wonder Woman and Bee Sting’s match?”

It’s possible Namgyu’s the one who got knocked out by Taehyun. He could very well be in a coma right now. He’s too sore to pinch himself and check, though, so he nods his head, trying not to pass out from excitement when Subong asks for his phone.

Choi fucking Subong wants Namgyu’s phone number. Choi fucking Subong wants to watch Won Semi and Kang Mina’s fight with him. For once, Namgyu doesn’t feel like a loser. 

In a way, Daejung was right about him retiring before he officially hits twenty. Tonight's match was his last, he decides. He’s gonna quit underground fighting and train with Lee Myunggi. He’s gonna start a real MMA career.

He’s going to a real MMA match tomorrow . With Subong. This is the best. He happily accepts it when Subong insists on helping him up the stairs to his apartment. It’s a little embarrassing that Subong will see the poster of his own face on Namgyu’s wall, but that’s fine. And he’d totally understand if he found out Namgyu voted him the sexiest TFC fighter. He’d probably be flattered in both cases. He already knows Namgyu is a fan. 

Soon, they’ll be peers. Namgyu can’t fucking wait.

⸝⸝

“How’s your ankle feeling?”

Namgyu rolls his eyes and delivers a roundhouse kick to the side of Subong’s head. 

Subong falls back against the mat with a thud.

“Fuck, Namgyu,” he groans. “You could’ve just said ‘fine.’”

Sometimes it’s hard for Namgyu to remember why, exactly, he used to idolize Subong so much. He’s not actually all that ethereal. He’s sort of a big dork. And a little bit of a baby, because come on. He’s rolling around on the floor like he just got fatally wounded despite all the cushy padding he’s got on. Namgyu’s been kicked in the head many times, very often without any sort of protective gear, and he’s never put on such a performance. 

“I’m dying,” Subong grunts as he sits up. 

“You’re not dying, hyung."

Subong crosses his legs, patting his lap and gesturing for Namgyu to come over. Ugh, this again. Namgyu sighs as he plops down on the ground and puts his ankle on Subong’s lap. 

“Did the kick really hurt that bad?” he can’t help but ask as Subong rotates his ankle in a circle.

Subong shakes his head and pulls his headgear off, revealing a bruise-free face. 

Namgyu snorts. “So what was all that for?”

“I just wanted attention.”

He really is such a dork. Subong the normal person is so different from Thanos the TFC champion. It was weird at first, trying to reconcile these two versions of him, but Namgyu’s so used to it now, he hardly even remembers being so starry-eyed when they first met in person two years ago. 

He still gets kind of starry-eyed. Just for different reasons. 

Like when Subong lifts his leg and presses a kiss to his ankle. Namgyu always feels quite starry-eyed when Subong does things like that.

“There,” Subong says, giving his ankle a squeeze. “Does it feel better now?”

There was nothing wrong with it to begin with. Namgyu smiles and says, “Yeah, hyung. Thank you. Does your head still hurt?”

Subong nods, tapping a finger against his cheek. “Yup.”

Namgyu leans forward on his palms to kiss Subong’s cheek, but changes his mind at the last minute. 

It would probably be okay if he redirected. They’ve been doing those whole flirty thing for half a year now. Subong probably has feelings for him. Namgyu’s known he has feelings for Subong ever since the first time they sparred. 

Subong didn’t hold back at all. He didn’t coo over Namgyu like he was a kicked puppy when he busted his lip open—he just asked if Namgyu was good to keep going, and then rubbed ointment on his lip after. Namgyu would’ve totally kissed him back then if his lip wasn’t actively bleeding.

It’s been his excuse these past few months—busted lips, or not wanting to distract Subong before a match, or being worried about Myunggi or Hyunju or the other fighters catching them. Namgyu’s lips are fine right now. Subong’s got another four months until his next fight. Jungle Gym is empty except for them and Myunggi, and Myunggi’s still in his office.

Maybe it’ll make things weird between them, but maybe it won’t. They became friends so easily after that night in the emergency room. The fact that Namgyu was a fan should’ve made it weird, but it didn’t. And now that Namgyu is just a few weeks away from his Taegeuk FC debut, it seems like maybe now is the perfect time to test the waters. They’re really, officially peers now. 

So, he turns his head at the last moment and brushes his lips against Subong’s. Not too much. He’s just checking more than anything. 

Subong lets out a surprised huff. Namgyu can feel his breath ghosting over his lips. He hovers close, waiting for Subong to tell him to back off. 

Subong doesn’t. He pulls off a glove and cups Namgyu’s cheek, bringing their lips together in earnest. 

Maybe it’s because they’ve been flirting with each other so much over the past six months, but Namgyu is surprised by how natural this feels. He was sort of expecting the fanboy lying dormant within him to come back to life and send him into a state of shock, or make him pull back and apologize profusely for daring to put his lips on those of a champion. But Subong’s just Subong when he’s out of the ring. He’s just a weird, loud guy who likes rap music, is way too into taking pictures of himself, and has a dorky habit of faking injuries to trick Namgyu into kissing him. He’s very easy to like. Namgyu likes him a lot. 

He already knew that. He already suspected Subong likes him back, but it’s nice to have that confirmed anyway. 

Subong breaks the kiss, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You didn’t kick me in the mouth.”

Namgyu smiles back. “Nope. You feel better anyway?”

“So much better.”

Now seems like a fine enough time to say it, Namgyu decides. It’s pretty obvious they like each other, so it’s not gonna make it weird. He still blushes when he asks, “You remember that vote they did three years ago? For the sexist TFC fighter?”

Subong leans forward, a knowing smirk already on his lips. “Yeah?”

Namgyu is already regretting this so much. “I voted for you.”

The reaction he gets is pretty predictable. Subong tackles him to the mat. “Hah! I fucking knew you had a crush on me.”

“Ugh, stop it. I didn’t back then,” Namgyu chuckles, pushing Subong off. “I just thought you were hot.”

“Fine,” Subong sighs. “You have a crush on me now, right?”

He’s such a dork. What kind of grown man talks about crushes? But then again, this is the same grown man who’s constantly rolling on the floor pretending to be hurt and demanding kisses. Namgyu smiles fondly and rests his cheek against his knees and he looks at Subong’s face. He is very hot, obviously. Namgyu’s known that forever. He’s also a lot of other things. Namgyu really, really likes him. “Yeah, I do.”

Subong scoots closer and wraps his arms around Namgyu’s knees. “Good. I’ve got a crush on you too.”

God, it’s like they’re in middle school or something. Namgyu can’t stop smiling. It makes it a little difficult to kiss Subong properly when he leans forward and presses their lips together. 

“Christ, Namgyu, you’re supposed to be training.”

Damn it. Namgyu turns to scowl at Myunggi. “I was training. We’re taking a break right now.”

Myunggi rolls his eyes. “Really? Looks like you and your boyfriend were making out. Do some jump rope if you’ve got all this free time on your hands.”

“You heard the boss,” Subong says with a wink. He stands and holds his hand out for Namgyu to take. 

‘Boyfriend’ sounds really nice. Maybe, once Namgyu wins his first TFC match, he’ll test the waters on that one, too. For now, he’s got a fight with Park Heeyong to prepare for. He takes Subong’s hand, smiling when Subong laces their fingers together.

⸝⸝

(ง •̀_•́)ง   ୧(•̀_•́ ୧)

It’s a long drive home from Jangchung Arena. The traffic on Seongsan Bridge is ass. Namgyu’s stomach is well beyond growling by the time he unlocks the front door. The scent of greasy fried food wafting out of the apartment is leaving him ravenous. 

Subong is on him in a second, nearly knocking the bouquet of flowers out of his hand. He does knock Namgyu’s suitcase out of his other hand. Namgyu’s far from concerned about that, though. He hasn’t been home in ages . He hasn’t properly hugged Subong in just as long. 

That takes precedence over the clothes currently falling out of his suitcase. He wraps his arms around Subong’s waist, careful to keep from pressing too hard at his injured torso. “Hi, hyung.”

“You’re so amazing!” Subong exclaims, looping his arms around Namgyu’s neck. “Holy shit, that fucking shoulder throw? You almost dislocated my other shoulder, you asshole.”

“Thanks,” Namgyu preens. He holds the flowers up. “I got these for you.”

Subong takes the flowers from Namgyu’s hand and threads their fingers together. “I thought I was only getting flowers if you put me in the hospital.”

Namgyu shrugs. “Consider them an apology for almost dislocating your shoulder.”

“Thank you, jagi,” Subong says, pulling him into the apartment. He pauses in the doorway to cup Namgyu’s face. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Three weeks apart was total ass. Namgyu’s the one who suggested it to make the bet more interesting, but it still sucked tremendously. The hotel he was staying at was way too lonely without Subong’s loud voice livening the space up. He wraps his arms back around Subong’s middle and tugs him closer. “I missed you too.”

“You look so good,” Subong groans. He drops the flowers on the console table and runs his hands under Namgyu’s shirt, fingers ghosting over his stomach. “You know how hard it was not to jump you onstage yesterday?”

Namgyu beams as he leans in to kiss Subong. Three weeks without this did suck pretty bad, but totally worth the surprise at the weigh-in. Namgyu packed on a lot of muscle in the last few weeks of his training.

“You kept trying,” he teases. 

Subong nips at his lower lip. “You were the one who kept flirting with me.”

“Excuse you,” Namgyu scoffs, nudging their noses together. “How many times did you call me kitty during the face-off? You might as well have just started making out with me with how obvious you were being.”

“Mhm.” Subong looks far too proud of himself when he presses Namgyu closer to the wall, a lopsided smirk on his face. “Did you like it? Should I start calling you that more?”

“Jagi is perfectly fine.”

“Okay, jagi,” Subong says. He tilts Namgyu’s chin up, giving him a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You hungry?”

Starving. Namgyu eagerly follows him to the living room.

Their post-fight fast food routine feels even better when they’re both celebrating. Namgyu throws himself down on the couch, tearing into one of the bags and shoving a handful of chicken nuggets in his mouth. 

Christ, he missed their couch. He missed vegging out on it with Subong every night. He’s never proposing an extended separation for the sake of making their dumb bets more interesting ever again. He may never leave the couch again. He shuffles to the corner, opening up the space next to him for Subong.

Subong plops down, folds his legs over Namgyu’s lap, and reaches into the bag for his cheeseburger. “How’s your jaw feeling?”

Namgyu opens his mouth, testing the hinges. Totally fine. Definitely sore, probably a little swollen by now, but not too fucked up. “Never better. How’s your side feeling?”

“Hurts like shit,” Subong chuckles as he lifts his shirt, revealing the red splotch on his torso. “See? You did that. You seriously were amazing tonight.”

Subong’s said it to him plenty of times before. Namgyu will never get tired of the praise though. He smiles, chest brimming with pride. “You were too.”

“Seriously, jagi, I mean, when you came at me right at the start with that sweeping hip throw? Holy fuck. I nearly crapped my pants. I’m gonna be rewatching the footage every night for the rest of my life. I’m gonna have nightmares about you chasing me down in an alleyway and murdering me.”

Namgyu grins as he shovels in chicken nuggets. “You were pretty cool too, you know. That cross jab in the second round had me seeing Jesus. You almost broke my nose again.”

“Sorry, jagi,” Subong says, leaning forward to kiss the arch of Namgyu’s nose. “How’s that? All better?”

Namgyu hums, leaning closer to bring their lips together. “Way better now. How’s your throat feeling?”

“It’s fucked up,” Subong says, craning his neck. “See? Look at the size of that bruise.”

It’s pretty gnarly. Subong’s got a purple splotch the size of a persimmon right under his Adam's apple. It must be quite sore. Namgyu pulls Subong’s legs higher up on his lap and leans in, brushing his lips over the bruise. “Better now?”

Subong lets out a content sigh and settles down against the back of the couch as Namgyu peppers kisses along the side of his neck. “So much better.”

Namgyu travels his way up Subong’s throat, brushing along his jaw until their lips are back together. It massively sucked, missing out on this for a month. Worth it in the end, but still crappy. The fast food is starting to get cold by the time they slowly ease apart and turn on the television to watch highlight reels as they eat. 

Namgyu missed this almost as much as he missed kissing Subong. Watching SPOTV in an empty hotel room was complete ass. It’s so much better when he’s got Subong right next to him, his loud voice coming out muffled as he eats his cheeseburger. 

“So what’s the verdict?” Subong asks as they watch Hwang Inho knock Seong Gihun against the net. “Am I finally worthy of being your coach?”

Subong did win the bet. It’s only fair that Namgyu holds up his end of the bargain, especially after the outcome of their first bet fifteen months ago. 

“When I win, you have to agree to be my boyfriend,” Namgyu said proudly as they crouched in the corner of his locker room, dodging Myunggi’s attempts to get Subong to fuck off so Namgyu could focus on his warm-ups. He was so sure he’d take Park Heeyong down, no problem. 

Subong looked so confident too, though. He grinned wide and said, “Deal.”

Subong still agreed to go out with Namgyu, despite him losing that fight. They still went back to Subong’s old apartment for their usual post-fight fast food routine, even though they technically only do that when one of them wins. Subong congratulated him and kissed him between mouthfuls of french fries and chicken nuggets anyway. 

Subong won this particular bet fair and square. It’s not like Namgyu was ever going to turn him down when he brought up the idea of becoming his coach seven weeks ago, but it still sounded fun to turn it into a challenge. 

“I don’t know if you’re worthy,” Namgyu teased. “Beat me in a fight, and maybe I’ll let you coach me.”

Subong looked so confident, it was almost annoying. To be fair, he had literally just won against Ali Abdul. 

“You sure you want to do that?” Subong asked, raising his still-bleeding eyebrow. “I really want to coach you. I won’t hold back.”

“Please, you never hold back,” Namgyu scoffed.

“Fair point. If I win, I get to be your coach. What do you want if you win?”

Namgyu leaned back against a locker, pretending to mull it over. “You have to buy me extra chicken nuggets.”

“Deal. See you in a bit, jagiya!” Subong said, plopping a wet kiss on Namgyu’s lips before skipping out of the locker room for his post-win interview.

Namgyu would’ve taken Subong on as his coach either way. Subong would’ve bought him extra chicken nuggets regardless. Still, it’s fun to tease. 

Namgyu leans his head back against the couch, eyes narrowed in thought as he says, “But that means we won’t be able to do a re-match. Beat me a second time, and I’ll consider it.”

“No fucking way,” Subong says with a grimace. “You almost killed me. I’m not taking my chances with a feral cat again.”

Namgyu hisses and swipes his nails at Subong’s cheek. 

“Hey,” Subong chuckles, catching Namgyu’s hand and locking their fingers together. 

The teasing can only last so long. Namgyu drops the act and grins. “Okay, fine. You can coach me.”

He’s ready for it when Subong lets out a far too loud whoop and tackles him against the couch. “Fuck yes!”

Technically speaking, Hyunju will be his head coach, but it’s still pretty fucking cool. He’s going to be training with Subong every single day. They’re going to be able to drive to matches together. They’ll be sitting together when they watch the other Team Legend members fight. Namgyu’s gonna be in Subong’s corner for his matches, and vice versa. Namgyu’s gonna be a Legend now. He finally, officially proved himself. 

It’s not like he necessarily needed to. Subong’s been rooting for him ever since he first started training at Jungle Gym. He used to drop Namgyu off and pick him up from his sessions with Myunggi, always so eager to hear about the new techniques Namgyu was learning. He’s been coming to every one of Namgyu’s matches, hoodie pulled tight around his face and mask disguising his features to make sure the attention stays on Namgyu, since the beginning. He never holds back when they spar. He never looks surprised when Namgyu wins a match. 

It’s why Namgyu didn’t hesitate to agree when Subong suggested the social media strategy before their fight. He knows Subong doesn’t actually think of him as a weak fighter. He happily supplied Subong with cringey photos of him to supplement his obnoxious kitten edits. 

And he was right about the buzz it would stir. Namgyu’s name is out there now. Even though he lost, highlight reels of his hip throw, dodge, and spinning back elbow are circulating online. All the hype Subong stirred up with the smack talk has people who aren’t even interested in MMA sharing their thoughts on the fight. Just as Subong predicted, all those corny kitten comparison posts did wonders helping people recognize Namgyu’s face, even if searches for his name are occasionally inaccurate.

“You look so hot here,” Subong coos, pointing at television when the commentators show a clip of him holding Subong down in a triangle choke. “Look at your legs. You really packed on some muscle.”

“You look pretty hot too.”

“That’s just ‘cus my face is so red,” Subong snorts. “Seriously, you’re so much better than I was in my first year. Not even Hwang Inho was this good his first year.”

“You really think so?” Namgyu asks, brimming with pride. 

“I know so.”

Namgyu settles next to Subong, resting his head on his shoulder. “So when do I get my Legend jacket?”

Subong wraps an arm tight around Namgyu’s waist. “Hyunju already ordered it,” he says excitedly.

“Wow, you really were that confident you’d win?” Namgyu tuts.

“Hell no. But I knew you’d let me coach you either way.”

He’s right, obviously. Namgyu pushes Subong back against the cushions, pulling himself on top of him as he licks into his mouth. He’s still got a lot of energy saved up from the fight. It’s clear Subong does too, because he meets Namgyu with equal vigor, shuffling up the couch and locking arms around Namgyu’s torso as he deepens the kiss.

They both hiss a little from the pressure on their bruises. It’s a nice kind of soreness, though. It really feels like they both won—Namgyu’s officially a serious competitor. Subong’s maintaining his status as a champion. Pretty soon, they’ll both hold rankings in the Taegeuk FC. They’ll both be training at Team Legend’s gym. Namgyu can’t wait for his jacket to arrive. 

“I have another bet for you,” Subong says when they break apart to catch their breath. 

Namgyu crosses his forearms over Subong’s chest and grins. “Yeah?”

Subong smirks mischievously as he holds his phone up above their heads and opens his camera app. “Smile.”

Namgyu flips around, tucking himself between Subong and the back of the couch and throwing up a V for the camera. “So what’s the bet?”

“I bet if I text Lee and tell him you’re joining Legend, he’ll be here within ten minutes.”

It’s an interesting wager. Myunggi must be home by now, and it’s a twenty minute drive from Seocho to their apartment. But if anyone’s willing to bend traffic laws in order to murder Namgyu as fast as possible, it’s Myunggi. 

“If I win, you have to let me post this,” Subong says as he shows Namgyu the picture.

It’s cute. It’s a little risque. They’re very clearly lying down next to each other on a couch. It’s a little obvious from the wetness on their lips that they’ve been making out. But Subong’s been flirting with him so blatantly online, it’s probably not going to be all that shocking. There are only so many reasons why he’d have such extensive access to private photos of Namgyu at home. The unflattering image of Namgyu sleeping with his mouth open that Subong edited to make it look like he was eating Chococat was clearly taken in a bed. If the internet sleuths took half a second to analyze the post, they’d recognize the sheets as the same ones seen in some of Subong’s cringey thirst traps. If they took a look at Namgyu’s own feed, they’d see plenty of pictures of him wearing Subong’s clothes. It’s not very difficult to put two and two together here. 

Namgyu pulls himself back on top of Subong and says, “Okay, deal.”

“What do you want if you win?”

It’s a little unclear what, exactly, would count as Namgyu winning. He’s letting Subong post the photo anyway, though, so he says, “You have to kiss me.”

“Deal!”

Namgyu laughs when Subong tilts his head up to bring their lips together. “You haven’t even sent the text yet.”

“Mm, right,” Subong murmurs, keeping his lips on Namgyu as he glances at his phone, types something quickly, and chucks it on the coffee table. “‘Kay. Countdown starts now.”

It takes twenty seconds for Namgyu’s phone to start ringing.

“Hm?” he mumbles when he holds it up to his ear, only half-listening as he traces his tongue over Subong’s lower lip. Subong’s got his hands back under his shirt. It’s difficult to care about whatever rant Myunggi’s going to subject him to.

And it’s quite a rant. Myunggi must be very purple right now.

“Namgyu, you absolute dick, I was this fucking close to actually sleeping. You know how many hours I’ve slept in the past three weeks? Huh?”

He doesn’t wait for Namgyu to respond. Not like Namgyu would. He’s far too occupied with trying to keep his phone against his ear as he pulls Subong’s shirt off. 

“Forty hours! I’m averaging two hours of sleep a night because I’ve been focused on training you dumb ass, and now you’re gonna trade gyms just so you can hang out with your boyfriend more? He’s already here way too often! Does he even ever go to Legend? Huh? Has he even met his team members before?”

Namgyu snickers when Subong rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t be jealous, Lee,” Subong says, taking the phone from Namgyu’s hand and putting it on speaker. “You still got Tiger and Dokkaebi on your team.”

“You know what?” Myunggi says. “This is great actually. I’m tired of having to look at you guys eye-fuck each other every day. Hyunju can put up with that. Fuck you. You both suck.”

Namgyu scoffs in offense. “ You suck, bitch. Maybe I’d stick around if you weren’t such a dick to me literally all the time.”

“You’re a dick to me , asshole! You never listen! Subong, good luck with him. He sucks so much.”

“I already know that,” Subong says.

Namgyu groans and thumps Subong on the chest, careful to avoid his bruises.

“Myunggi, for real,” Subong says, catching Namgyu’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “You need to lighten up a bit. Jungle’s not gonna build up a good roster if you keep running your fighters off.”

“What do you know about anything? You’ve only been in the TFC for nine years, Subong. I’ve been in it for sixteen—”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re old,” Subong snorts. “Why don’t you tell Namgyu you’re proud of him, huh? He fought really well tonight. He deserves some congratulations.”

“Jesus fuck, it’s too late at night for this. Namgyu, you suck. Subong, you suck. I’m turning my phone on do not disturb and going to bed. Good night.”

Namgyu’s about to hang up and throw his phone across the room, but then Myunggi lets out a long, pained sigh, and says, “And Namgyu, I am proud of you. You really did a good job. You’re almost as good as I was at your age.”

Jesus. All it took was three years and a little nagging from Subong to finally get him to say it. Still, Namgyu grins. “Thank you, coach.”

“You’re welcome,” Myunggi says. “Good night, Namgyu. You still suck. Never text me past midnight ever again, Subong.”

“For the record,” Subong says once Namgyu’s hung up the phone. “You’re better than he was at your age.”

Namgyu’s grin widens. “I know.”

Subong smirks and leans up to kiss him. “So cocky.”

Maybe, but Namgyu’s totally earned the right to say it. He wraps his arms around Subong, careful to avoid the bruises on his torso, and kisses him back.