Work Text:
Pran had barely kicked off his shoes when he felt the shift in the room.
Pat was lying across his bed like he owned it, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other fiddling with Pran’s guitar pick.
Never a good sign.
Pran: (sighing, tossing his bag onto the chair) “What now?”
Pat: (peeking dramatically from under his arm) “Oh, nothing. Just sitting here, thinking about how Wai’s jokes must be the funniest thing in the world. The way you were laughing tonight, you almost fell off your chair.”
Pran froze, halfway through pulling off his hoodie.
Oh. So that’s what this was.
Pran: (flat) “You’re jealous.”
Pat: (sits up quickly, offended) “Jealous? Me? No! I’m just… concerned.”
Pran: (raising an eyebrow) “Concerned.”
Pat: (crosses arms, sulky) “Yeah. Concerned that maybe you like his sense of humor better than mine.”
Pran couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Pat looked so much like a sulking kid that it was hard to stay serious.
But Pat’s pout deepened, and suddenly Pran realized—he wasn’t just playing. He was actually insecure.
Pran: (softer, sitting on the edge of the bed) “Pat…”
Pat: (blurting out before Pran can continue) “You smiled at him differently. I see your smiles, you know. There’s your polite smile, your ‘I’m annoyed at Pat but I’ll put up with him’ smile, your smug little smirk when you win an argument… but tonight, with Wai? That was your real smile.”
Pran’s chest tightened. Leave it to Pat to notice something so small, something he didn’t even realize he was doing.
Pran: (quietly) “So what if I smiled?”
Pat: (voice lowering, almost a whisper) “Because it’s mine. That smile—you always give it to me. And tonight, it felt like you gave it to someone else.”
There it was. The truth, raw and vulnerable, hidden under Pat’s usual bravado.
Pran exhaled, suddenly guilty for laughing at Wai’s silly story without realizing how it might look.
He reached out, gently prying the guitar pick from Pat’s fidgeting fingers.
Pran: (firm but soft) “Listen to me, Pat. I could sit in a room full of people telling the funniest stories, and I’d still only hear yours. Do you get that?”
Pat: (blinking, unsure) “You mean that?”
Pran: (rolling his eyes, but smiling faintly) “Of course I mean it. You idiot. You’re the only one who can make me laugh until my stomach hurts, or smile without even trying.”
Pat’s pout disappeared, replaced by the slow grin Pran both loved and hated—because it always meant Pat knew he’d won.
Pat: (smirking) “So… I’m your favorite?”
Pran: (groans, shoving his shoulder lightly) “Don’t push it.”
But Pat didn’t back off. He leaned in, eyes soft now, the teasing gone.
Pat: (whispering) “Just tell me you’re mine, and I’ll shut up.”
Pran hesitated, cheeks warming. Words like that never came easy for him. But Pat’s hand found his, warm and steady, and something inside him softened.
Pran: (murmuring) “I’ve been yours since high school, idiot. You just took forever to notice.”
Pat’s grin was blinding. He pulled Pran into a hug so tight it knocked the air out of him, burying his face in his neck.
Pat: (muffled) “Good. Don’t ever give that smile to anyone else again.”
Pran: (rolling his eyes but smiling into his shoulder) “You’re impossible.”
Pat: (kissing his cheek quickly, smug) “Impossible to replace.”
Pat was still clinging to him like a koala, cheek pressed against Pran’s neck.
Pran: (muffled against Pat’s shoulder) “You’re heavy. Get off.”
Pat: (smug) “Nope. You admitted you’re mine. I’m never letting go.”
Pran sighed, exasperated, but his hands had already found their way to Pat’s back, fingers curling into his shirt like they didn’t believe his own words.
Pran: “You’re such a child.”
Pat: (grinning, leaning back just enough to look at him) “Yeah, but I’m your child.”
Pran groaned, about to shove him away again—when Pat caught his wrist, eyes locking onto his. The room suddenly felt too quiet, too close.
Pat: (voice softer now, almost shy) “I really do hate it, you know. When you smile at someone else like that. Makes me feel… replaceable.”
That word hit Pran hard. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he lifted his free hand to cup Pat’s cheek, his thumb brushing just under the ridiculous pout.
Pran: (firm but gentle) “You’re not replaceable, Pat. You’re the most irreplaceable idiot I’ve ever known.”
Pat blinked, the bravado slipping for a heartbeat. Then he leaned in, forehead pressing against Pran’s, their breaths tangling in the small space between them.
Pat: (whispering) “Then prove it.”
Pran rolled his eyes, though his heart was hammering.
Pran: “You’re impossible.”
Pat: (smirking) “And irresistible.”
Before Pran could come up with a retort, Pat closed the gap—messy, eager, like he’d been waiting all night. Pran made a startled noise against his mouth, but his grip on Pat’s shirt only tightened, pulling him closer.
The kiss softened after the first rush, Pat slowing down, lips brushing lazily like he had all the time in the world. His hand slid to the back of Pran’s neck, cradling him like something precious.
Pran let out a quiet sigh, melting despite himself. He hated giving Pat the satisfaction, hated how easy it was to fall into him… and yet, he couldn’t stop.
When they finally broke apart, Pat’s grin was smug and boyish, his thumb swiping at the corner of Pran’s mouth.
Pat: (teasing) “See? That’s the smile. The one that’s mine.”
Pran: (glaring half-heartedly, cheeks flushed) “I should’ve let Wai keep you jealous. You’re insufferable when you win.”
Pat: (pressing another quick kiss to his lips, grinning) “Good thing you like me insufferable.”
And though Pran muttered something about “annoying engineers,” his smile lingered—the same one Pat had been jealous of. Only this time, there was no doubt who it belonged to.