Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chan doesn’t get drunk. He barely ever drinks alcohol as it is—has famously said he doesn’t even like soda, only really water—so when Hyunjin receives a call at 11:56pm from Jeongin on a random Tuesday, it makes him a little bit nervous. 

“Hyung, can you come over— no, not you, Channie hyung, I’m speaking to Hyunjin hy— yes, that’s what I’m doing right now.” 

Hyunjin pauses with his paintbrush—having just answered his phone with a gleeful hi, Iyennie and then immediately putting it on speaker—and stares at his phone, a furrow in his brow. 

“Hyung, are you there?” Hyunjin can hear giggling in the background, high-pitched and squeaky, which can only be one person in his life. 

“Hyunjin, please.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t even bother asking the actual reason—he barely remembers to at least put his dirty paintbrushes upside down in the water jar—before he’s tugging on a jacket as he tells Jeongin he’s on his way. He shoves his phone in his pocket and on his way to the front door, sticks his head in Changbin’s room to tell him where he’s going, before he’s shoving his slides on and and walking the very short distance to the other apartment. 

Letting himself in to the leader and maknae’s apartment with the code that will forever be engrained into his cerebral cortex, he replaces his slides with his pair of house slippers—Chan made sure they all have a pair here—and makes sure to neatly line his shoes up with the others that sit in the rack. 

He shrugs his jacket off because their apartment is always so warm and cosy—honestly he doesn’t know why he bothered to put it on in the first place—and ensures to hang it up with the rest of them. His fingers brush Chan’s well-loved leather jacket, notably the only one of Chan’s hanging here, and the scent washes over him. Not cologne, because he doesn’t wear that anymore, but just the sweet, homely scent of him. 

Padding through the hallway, he follows the sounds of laughter, more of those squeaky giggles, until he reaches the living room. 

There’s something playing on the TV that Jeongin is clearly trying to watch, but there is an overgrown koala-of-a-boy attached to him. Chan is wrapped around Jeongin, all gangly limbs and pale skin. He’s still dressed in outdoor clothes, Chrome-Hearts jeans and tight Fendi vest—his hair is styled, pushed back off of his forehead, but loose waves frame his face; his eyelids are dusted with brown shadow. It’s a stark contrast to Jeongin who is dressed comfortably in gym shorts and a tshirt, and the poor boy is grimacing as the older is rubbing his cheek against the other’s with a dopey grin on his face. Hyunjin sees straight through the facade though, he knows Jeongin is secretly loving it. 

Hyunjin clears his throat to announce his arrival and steps a little closer as both men turn to look at him. Jeongin just raises his eyebrows in greeting. Chan, however, lights up. His confused frown eases and his eyes widen, before they’re swallowed up entirely by his cheeks, dimples deep, as he breaks into the biggest grin—all teeth and the tip of his tongue. 

There’s a flush to his cheeks, pink and youthful. His lips are a little wine-stained. 

“Hyunzales!” Honestly, his volume is way too loud for his time of night and he hiccups at the end, spurring on another set of giggles. Jeongin winces as he jolts his neck away as best he can, but Chan’s joy is infectious and Hyunjin can’t fight back his smile. 

“Hi, Channie hyung.” He steps around the spotless coffee table and settles on the other side of Chan, who immediately frees Jeongin and replaces him with Hyunjin as his own personal soft toy. 

Chan’s so warm, he’s like a human radiator—a tiny, compact space heater; Hyunjin’s upper arm tingles when Chan presses his cheek to it. His palms are slightly clammy where they grip tightly to Hyunjin’s bicep and forearm, as his greedy fingers knead into flesh. 

His voice is muffled as he speaks against Hyunjin’s arm, his soft lips pressed into a pout, “what’s my Hyunjinnie doing here?”

“You literally begged me to call him,” Jeongin mutters under his breath, but speaks louder when Chan makes a dazed hm? sound and cranes his head to look at him, without withdrawing from Hyunjin, that is, “I’m gonna call it a night, I’ve got an early schedule.” 

Jeongin wishes them both a goodnight, and when Chan puckers his lips with his eyes squeezed shut, Jeongin just laughs and swats him on the shoulder. Chan whines, but it’s long forgotten when he remembers his new pillow and nuzzles back into Hyunjin—a joyous little hum leaving his lips. Just before Jeongin turns the corner to go to his bedroom, he turns around and catches Hyunjin’s eye, mouthing thank you, hyung with a grateful smile. With one last besotted look at the back of Chan’s head, he leaves them alone. 

The show that Jeongin was watching has ended and it’s switched to an ad break, so trying not to jostle his hyung too much, Hyunjin twists his body so that he can stretch around Chan and grab the remote where the maknae left it, however this doesn’t quite go to plan. Sensing the shift, Chan tilts his head up—not too much, he ensures his chin is still making contact with Hyunjin—and his doe-like eyes brighten, made even more devastating by his thick lashes and pouted mouth.

“Hug?” It’s so innocent it breaks Hyunjin’s heart a little bit. His selfless, loving hyung asking for something. Who is he to deny him that?

Hyunjin huffs out a laugh—he’s not annoyed though, he’s endeared—and he sits back against the couch. He holds his arm out and Chan wastes no time. He lets go of Hyunjin’s arm and delves into his embrace, and like clockwork, his hands find Hyunjin’s waist. He squeezes him for a second, before he winds his arms fully around him, forearms resting snugly between Hyunjin and the couch cushion. Chan buries his face into Hyunjin’s neck, his nose is warm where it nestles at the juncture just above Hyunjin’s shoulder. 

This close, Hyunjin can smell Chan’s hair—the essence he puts in it sickly sweet and cloying, yet so familiar and comforting. He doesn’t resist the urge to rest his chin on the top of Chan’s head, and he brings his arms up to hold Chan against him; his palms rub soothing patterns against his back. His hyung is finally allowing himself to take something, so he’ll give it to him. 

“My Hyunjinnie.” Chan’s breath tickles Hyunjin’s neck, and his arms squeeze his waist even tighter. He can’t be comfortable where his body is contorting like this, so Hyunjin slides a hand down Chan’s back and taps the back of his thigh; directs Chan to scoot his knees under himself. 

Chan hums contentedly, tries to get even closer to the younger. Hyunjin debates just pulling him into his lap. 

“Cute,” Hyunjin sighs—so smitten, so enamoured—and moves a hand to stroke Chan's hair.

“Thassyou.” A sleepy slurring of words. So tiny, so vulnerable. 

“You never drink, hyung.” Hyunjin stifles a yawn, the hours of the day catching up to him expeditiously due to the pleasant warmth he’s experiencing. Chan is resting all of his bodyweight against him like a heated blanket. 

“Schedule… Jus’ happened… y’know…” Hyunjin can feel Chan’s eyelashes fluttering against his neck as he tries to stay awake.

“Tired, hyungie?” The responding low hum confirms it so Hyunjin taps him on the ass lightly to get him to sit up right. Chan’s still flushed—Hyunjin can see now how it stretches down his neck and over his shoulders and chest—but he looks more sleepy than drunk, a pleasant tipsy. 

“Don’t even like wine,” he grumbles through a pout as he rubs his fists into his eyes. Hyunjin suppresses the urge to call him cute again. 

“Hm, your lips say otherwise.” Hyunjin tilts his head to the side to look at him, rests it on his bicep where his arms are now stretched out across the back of the couch. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Don’t wanna.” He reminds Hyunjin of a toddler refusing his bedtime, overtired and grumpy, struggling to keep his eyes open. He frowns at a strand of hair that has fallen in front of his eyes and frustratedly blows it out the way. It’s adorable. 

“Come on,” Hyunjin eases himself off the couch and crouches down in front of Chan, “I’ll carry you.” 

A flurry of giggles ending with a tiny oooh has Hyunjin’s heart clenching in his chest and he bites back a smile when Chan climbs onto his back, lifting him effortlessly with not so much as a groan. His tiny hyung clings to him like the cuddly koala that he is, arms tight around Hyunjin’s neck and legs wrapping around his waist. The fabric of his jeans rubs against the exposed skin of Hyunjin’s waist where his shirt has ridden up, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when Chan is sleepily mumbling I love you, Hyunjinnie into his shoulder. 

It’s a wrestling match to get Chan to take his makeup off, get him to drink a glass of water and to at least take the thick denim off of his legs, but once Hyunjin’s gotten Chan into bed—his giggly, charming hyung—he allows him to take from Hyunjin just that little bit more. 

Chan curls up against Hyunjin, hand on waist—of course—leg thrown over thigh, strands of his hair tickle Hyunjin’s throat. He’s babbling incoherent nonsense that Hyunjin can’t keep up with but Hyunjin knows he has a dopey grin on his face. 

“Go to sleep, hyungie.” 

Chan lifts his head, eyes half-lidded and so much smaller now that they’re not highlighted by shadow, and he puckers his lips like he did for Jeongin earlier. In a moment of weakness, Hyunjin may have let himself have that, may have let himself indulge, but he can’t be certain Chan’s serious—can’t be certain Chan wants to take this for himself. So as a compromise, he presses a kiss to the older’s forehead; lets it linger for a second or two longer than what’s considered normal for what they are. 

Chan’s eyes turn into crescents, and he makes that adorable oooh sound again before he sighs happily and settles back against Hyunjin’s chest. Hyunjin hopes Chan’s too tired to register the erratic thumps of his heart beneath his ear.