Work Text:
The knock comes as Donghae fiddles with the bath faucet for the second time that night, trying to find a temperature that's hot, though not so hot it actually gives him second-degree burns. He'd found it earlier in the night, and he'd filled the tub and sat in it and started to relax—
And then Teukie-hyung had started rapping on the door insistently, first with his hands and then with his phone. That'd been before the rest of the group had poured into his room and filled it with noise and joy and, above all else, love. So much love that it'd made his eyes sting in gratitude and happiness and deep emotion.
And it'd been wonderful—until they'd finished what they came around for and tumbled over one another to get out the door like puppies, and he'd been left alone with a cake he couldn't possibly eat by himself and a tub full of bathwater that'd gone cold.
So here he is, bent over the tap—gingerly, because his back still hurts even after he'd applied an ice pack after the concert—listening to see if maybe his ears are playing tricks on him. Maybe it's not someone coming back. Maybe... Maybe it'd been a pipe knocking, or somebody in the neighboring room, or a thud from the room above.
But the knock comes again. He groans and considers not answering, but there's another, and then another, soft but insistent.
Donghae sighs deeply and grabs the towel he'd hung up. He wraps it around his waist—careful and secure, just in case they're back with another camera—and pads out to the entranceway of his hotel room.
"Who is it?" he calls out when he's still a few steps away.
"Just me," Hyukjae says, muffled through the door. Donghae leans in and peers through the peephole just to be certain the rest of them aren't lurking behind him for round two, but he seems to be telling the truth. It's just Hyukjae in his bathrobe and pajama pants, Mediheal mask disposed of. As Donghae watches, he shuffles forward until all that's visible in the peephole is his eyeball and a little bit of lash. "Let me in."
Donghae considers it, fingers resting on the door handle but not turning it just yet. "You're filming? Or streaming? Where's your phone? Hold it up, let me see."
"Aish— What, you don't trust me? C'mon, open the door."
"Show me your phone first."
"Seriously? Fine! Here, look," Hyukjae says, and holds up his phone to the peephole. He touches the screen to wake it, to prove to Donghae: "See? Not streaming. Let me in. Hurry up, before someone comes out and sees."
Donghae hums. "No."
"Donghae!"
He sounds so exasperated that Donghae has to laugh, has to push down the door handle and pull open the door and look at his expression without the distortion of the peephole. It's just as wonderfully disgruntled as he thought it'd be.
"You're so annoying," Hyukjae grumbles as he pushes past Donghae and into his room, and Donghae laughs again, louder. "Didn't you learn a thing from earlier?"
"What? What d'you mean?" Donghae asks as he shuts the door. When he turns, Hyukjae's looking him over, head to toe, his eyebrows raised.
"I mean that you're just in a towel again. Where's your bathrobe? What if I'd actually been streaming?"
Donghae snorts. "I wouldn't have let you in, then." He tips his head to the side a little, watches Hyukjae look him over again, this time lingering a little, in a way that makes his skin tingle pleasantly. "What're you here for, anyway? You forget something? Or...?"
He watches as the corners of Hyukjae's mouth deepen into a suppressed smile. "Or what? Is there some other reason I'd be here?"
Donghae takes a step forward, then another, closing the gap between them. "Maybe... for a birthday gift?"
Hyukjae looks down between them, then reaches out and hooks his finger in the front of Donghae's towel, knuckle warm against his stomach. Hyukjae tugs once, gentle enough to avoid actually dislodging the towel, but Donghae still can't quite help the way his breath hitches.
"A birthday fuck, you mean," Hyukjae says, barely contained mirth making his voice shake. When he looks up, his eyes are so bright and mischievous that Donghae finds himself grinning.
"You said it, not me," he replies cheerfully. "So...? Is that...?"
Hyukjae rolls his eyes and withdraws his finger, playfully smacking his palm against Donghae's side and cackling at the way it makes him yelp. He laughs a little more as he watches Donghae scowl and rub his hand over his ribs. "When we're flying again in six hours? Not a chance."
"We could be quick!" Donghae says, more teasing than cajoling. "No?"
"No," Hyukjae says, and then adds, as if it's not something that'll take Donghae's breath away and fill his entire body with warm sparks, "I'd rather take my time with you for your birthday. Make it special."
"Then what..." Donghae starts, once he's swallowed back the happy little knot of emotion in his throat. But Hyukjae's already manhandling him, turning him around with his hands on Donghae's arms. In the next moment, Hyukjae's palm lands between Donghae's shoulders with a smack as he shoves him back towards the bathroom.
"I'm here for cake, that's all," Hyukjae says cheerfully. "You're incidental. Go on, go back to your bath."
Donghae breathes out a laugh. "Oh, that's harsh."
"It's true," says Hyukjae, and nudges him away. "Go."
Donghae rolls his eyes, but goes.
He doesn't always take a bath after a concert, though he wishes he could. Sometimes they have to fly out too early, or he's just too tired. But if he could, he'd do it every time. The warmth helps relax the tenseness in his overworked muscles and soothe his back in particular, and he enjoys the time to think and maybe watch something in peace.
He likes the ritual of it, too: There's something soothing about the time it takes to find the right temperature, draw the bath, sprinkle in the bath salts, set up his tablet... Each of the little steps that stretch it out and make it all the more enjoyable.
He goes through those steps now, just as he had earlier in the night, though it feels different. This time, there's soft rustling from the other room as Hyukjae explores, poking around the way the others had earlier. And perhaps it should feel like an intrusion, a disruption of this routine he so enjoys, but—
Donghae likes it. He likes the way Hyukjae's footsteps sound against the carpet, likes the way Hyukjae murmurs to himself, the way he doesn't expect an answer. The way he unselfconsciously fits himself into Donghae's room, his space, his life.
"I think they really did give you the best room," Hyukjae says as he wanders into the bathroom with a plate of cake in one hand and a fork in the other. "Was it a birthday gift, do you think? From the staff?"
"Dunno. If it was, it's nice of them." Donghae looks down at the tub, watching the water level. It seems about good, so he reaches over to shut off the tap. He looks back up at Hyukjae and nods at the plate in his hand. "Are you taking that back to your room?"
Hyukjae hums, coming over to lean against the wall. "Nah. Too far. And besides, the tray and everything is here. Wouldn't want to make it more difficult to clean up, you know?"
Donghae undoes his towel and sets it neatly to the side, trying his best not to laugh as Hyukjae gives him an exaggerated, leering once-over. "You're not bringing that in here, though," he warns Hyukjae sternly, carefully climbing over the side of the tub and lowering himself into the water. "I don't want any crumbs in my bath."
Hyukjae rolls his eyes. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it. Your bath salts make my skin itchy."
"What are you planning, then?" Donghae asks, mildly curious. "You're just going to stand there and eat while I take a bath?"
Hyukjae blinks—clearly plan-less—and then hums softly, thinking. After a moment, he sets the plate down on the little counter and, as Donghae watches, he picks up a towel—a clean one that hasn't been around Donghae's waist—and arranges it into a little cushion on the floor beside the tub. He retrieves the cake, then settles himself on the towel, his back leaning against the tub. "Better?"
Donghae snorts softly. He can't imagine that the towel will provide a whole lot of cushioning against against the hard floor, especially given Hyukjae's lack of any natural cushioning, but if it doesn't bother Hyukjae... "Yeah. Better."
He waits a moment to see if Hyukjae's going to say anything else, but he seems absorbed in the cake. Donghae doesn't mind. He considers turning on his tablet and going back to the video he'd had on earlier, but decides against it. Instead, he leans back and watches Hyukjae quietly as the pleasant heat seeps into his muscles. Hyukjae takes small bites for once, delicate little forkfuls, like he's trying his best to savor it, stretching out that one slice as long as he can. Donghae doesn't blame him; he'd had a bite earlier, and it'd been delicious.
"Hey," Donghae says when Hyukjae's about halfway through, and Hyukjae hums around a mouthful of meringue. When Donghae doesn't continue, he turns his head just enough to look at him, to catch his smile. The water sloshes but doesn't spill over as Donghae moves, leaning over the lip of the tub and opening his mouth expectantly.
"What?" Hyukjae asks, eyeing him with playful, over-the-top caution. "What's what for? I'm not feeding you."
"Oh, come on," Donghae whines. "It's my birthday."
"If you want cake, you can get it yourself."
"I don't want a whole slice!" Donghae leans forward a little more, until he can clumsily, gently thunk their heads together. "Hyukjae. Please? One bite. Come on."
Hyukjae's lips press together firmly as he tries to fight back a smile. "It's not going to be just one bite," he says, long-suffering, but he's already lifting the fork to Donghae's mouth.
The sweetness coats Donghae's tongue in a pleasant way, all vanilla and sugar with a faint burst of citrus at the end to keep it from being cloying. Donghae hums as Hyukjae pulls the fork back past his lips, and Hyukjae teasingly mimics the noise back at him.
"There. Just the one, though," Hyukjae says sternly, shaking the fork at him.
"Just the one," Donghae echoes as he settles back in the tub.
It's not just the one bite, of course. Donghae leans forward a few more times after that, and Hyukjae indulges him each time with only token complaints. He makes sure to let Hyukjae have the last bite, though, smiling as Hyukjae makes a show of it. He doesn't mind.
"That was nice," Hyukjae says, leaning against the side of the tub when he comes back from returning the plate and fork to the cart. Donghae hums and, after a beat, reaches over the lip, just enough to let his fingertips graze Hyukjae's hair. It's soft, and Hyukjae butts up against his hand a little, this silent encouragement to card through it. So he does, and Hyukjae hums contentedly, and Donghae...
Donghae's chest fills with gentle warmth, lovely and deep and expansive. It's the kind that makes its way into every little crevice of his heart, that packs the space between each rib and sinks into his bones. It's a warmth that he has to breathe through carefully so that it doesn't become too much and travel up to his eyes and spill over. It works, mostly.
They stay like that for a while, quiet and comfortable, talking softly about everything and nothing, until the water begins to cool past the point of being comfortable. And then Donghae sighs and retracts his hand, and Hyukjae huffs out a laugh. He moves before Donghae does, lifting up from the towel on the floor and settling himself on the edge of the tub, where he can lean over and press his warm, dry lips against Donghae's forehead.
"C'mon," he murmurs as he reaches over to drain the tub. "Let's go to bed."
He says it as if there was never a question that he'd stay; as if he doesn't have his own hotel room, as if he won't have to wake up extra early to sneak back there and get ready for tomorrow's flight. As if it isn't inconvenient to stay here with Donghae.
(As if being in love with Donghae isn't a little inconvenient sometimes.)
"Okay," Donghae says, instead of Your love makes me so happy it feels like a thousand stars under my skin, and stands to get out of the tub. Hyukjae hands him his towel with a smile and they pad out together, elbows bumping and shoulders jostling companionably. Hyukjae laughs at the look on Donghae's face when he pulls his toothbrush out of the pocket of the hotel robe, but he can't help it: It's a tiny piece of proof that Hyukjae had always meant to stay, that it hadn't been a thoughtless whim, and it makes him feel too much all over again.
He manages to get it together, somehow, at least long enough for them to brush their teeth at the double vanity and kiss afterward, quick but not perfunctory. Hyukjae smiles again when they part, and laces their fingers together.
He watches from the bed as Donghae puts on boxers and packs up the washed clothes hung up by the window and finishes up the rest of his night routine. Then they crawl under the covers together and Donghae turns out the lights even though there's a part of him that wants to look at every detail of Hyukjae's face until they fall asleep. It's fine, though; they turn toward each other in the darkness and Hyukjae leans in, closes the tiny gap that remains, and kisses him again. This time it's slow, open-mouthed and careful. Hyukjae doesn't taste like cake and sugar anymore, but the kiss is still so sweet it takes Donghae's breath away. His prickling eyelids slide shut as Hyukjae's hand presses warmly against the side of his neck, fingernails scratching gently, almost ticklish at the nape of Donghae's neck.
"What're you crying for?" Hyukjae breathes when the kiss breaks. He reaches up and gently wipes at Donghae's wet cheeks. "It's your birthday, you shouldn't cry. What kind of person does it make me if I make you cry on your birthday, huh?"
"It's not— I'm happy. Really. Just—" Donghae takes a breath that's meant to be steadying, but just ends up shaky and a little wet. "Why'd you come back?"
"What?"
"Everybody... After the pictures," Donghae says, "everybody left. Why'd you come back? You didn't have to. The real reason, not just— Don't say the cake. "
Hyukjae exhales, and Donghae can tell that he's thinking about how to articulate it. It's fine; Donghae uses the time to get himself under control, to breathe slowly and evenly, until the tears recede a little.
"Because I know you," Hyukjae says eventually, soft and simple. His thumb strokes Donghae's cheek, almost unbearably tender. "Because you needed me to. I knew, just looking at you as we left, that you needed somebody to come back and be with you."
"I did," Donghae admits, looking at Hyukjae's shape in the dark. "I needed— Because everybody came in and it was... so much. You know? Because I always know you all love me, but I felt it then, like... Like it was so real I could almost touch it. And it was nice even if it was so much that— You noticed, right? I almost cried right there in front of the camera. But then suddenly everyone was gone and I just..." He shakes his head, this little twitch against the pillow. "It felt empty. Lonely. I was lonely. All I had to keep me company was the cake."
He feels more than sees Hyukjae's intent gaze on his face. "And now?" Hyukjae asks lightly, almost teasing. "Are you still lonely with me?"
"You know I'm not," Donghae says, finding Hyukjae's hand and drawing it down to settle at his waist, a silent invitation for Hyukjae to pull him as close as he wants. Hyukjae takes it almost without thinking, fitting their bodies together with the ease of habit. "You know I don't get lonely when I'm with you."
"I guess I do." Hyukjae gives a quiet breath of a laugh. "Do you still feel too much, though? Right now? I don't know the answer to that one."
"Yeah." It's quick, almost immediate. "But that's not so bad."
"Good," says Hyukjae. "Ah, wait, but will you start crying again if I kiss you?"
Donghae laughs. "Maybe," he says, but presses his mouth against Hyukjae's anyway.
(He does cry, but not when Hyukjae kisses back and keeps kissing him until they get too drowsy and start dozing off between kisses. It's not even after the last kiss, the one that happens right before they pull apart and Hyukjae turns him over, tucking himself up against Donghae's back, his arm a nice weight across Donghae's middle.
It's the actual last kiss that does it, when Hyukjae mumbles a soft, Happy birthday, Donghae-yah, sleepy and sweet like an I love you, and clumsily kisses the back of Donghae's head.
And Donghae's eyes go wet as he smiles so wide it hurts. His heart soars, full to bursting.)