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Yunho is losing feeling in his fingers from how tightly Hongjoong is gripping his hand.
He can see the nerves in every part of Hongjoong’s body, his clenched jaw, tensed shoulders, even as his boyfriend tries his damndest to pretend that they aren’t there.
Hongjoong has tried a handful of times to convince Yunho to take him home since they arrived at the clinic—and twice since they woke up this morning, once more on the ride over. His knee is jumping wildly, jostling Yunho’s every once and a while with its hyperactivity.
He makes one last ditch effort as he angles his body toward Yunho, lowering his voice so that the receptionist doesn’t hear his pleas, too, “I don’t even need this, Yun. People keep their wisdom teeth all the time.”
Yunho chuckles fondly, squeezing his hand, “people also keep their appendix and then they explode.”
“That’s not the same and you know it.”
“I’d agree with you if your teeth weren’t hurting you so badly, Joong.”
His boyfriend huffs, leaning closer, “I’ll just live off of soup forever.”
“Baby, you have been living off soup.”
“Yeah, and it’s been awesome.”
Yunho snorts, because from his point of view, that hasn’t been his impression of the past two weeks, "you've complained every single meal.”
Hongjoong glares at him, “no, I haven’t.”
Yunho allows him the lie, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand between both of his. He has not enjoyed the impromptu diet, no matter how much Yunho has tried to ease the ache in his molars with soft foods, “don’t you miss chewing?”
“No,” he replies stubbornly, because he can’t admit defeat aloud. His forehead knocks with Yunho’s shoulder though, knowing he’s lost the argument.
Yunho pets his faded peach-colored hair, cooing in his ear, “you’re gonna be fine, Joong. It won’t even take thirty minutes.”
“I know,” he groans beneath his breath, mindful of the older couple seated across the room who have already shot them a dirty look for being too loud far too early in the morning, “but maybe we can reschedule for next week—when I have more time to prepare.”
He laughs, “prepare for what, war?”
“For my teeth to get ripped out, asshole.”
Yunho tugs his head into the crook of his neck, “okay, sure, you don’t need to do it today,” he continues quickly before Hongjoong can bolt to his feet, “but you deserve not to be in pain anymore. Think about it, once you get them out, you don’t have to worry about them ever again. And you can eat Wooyoung-ie’s food again.”
“So what you’re saying is that I never have to go to the dentist again.”
“Okay, I definitely didn’t say that.”
Hongjoong slouches in defeat, picking a little too roughly at Yunho’s cuticles absentmindedly, not noticing when his boyfriend flinches in pain when Hongjoong’s thumbnail goes a bit too deep into skin, “I hate when you’re right.”
“You love when I’m right,” Yunho drawls, and he feels the intense urge to kiss him, resisting only for the senior citizens who would not enjoy the show, “wait, are you actually admitting I’m right for once?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
The time comes too quickly for Yunho, despite all of his encouragement, the clinic door opening to a nurse calling out for Hongjoong. His boyfriend’s body tenses up so tight, Yunho’s almost worried he’s gone into cardiac arrest.
He squeezes his hand encouragingly, standing with him, and he almost folds right then, when Hongjoong looks up at him with wide, anxious eyes, “you’re gonna be fine, okay? I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
“I really don’t want to do this,” he whines.
“It’s just a little nap, baby. You love naps.”
“I hate naps,” he argues, just to be difficult. He clings to Yunho until it’s physically impossible due to their distance. The nurse waits patiently, and Hongjoong is acting as if he’s going off to war, that this is their last meeting, “if I drool, don’t you dare talk about it.”
“If you drool, I’m taking photos for our wedding album.”
“Don’t you dare,” he hisses back, scandalized, before dropping Yunho’s hand and following the nurse through the double doors. He sends one more forlorn look over his shoulder, before he’s gone.
Yunho slumps in his seat, wringing his hands. He’s unsure what to do now without having the job of acting as Hongjoong’s confidence. He had his own nerves about the surgery, but he hadn’t been allowed to express them, knowing it would only make Hongjoong worry more. Yunho knows he’ll be fine, knows it’s a standard procedure, that it’s needed, if only so his poor boyfriend doesn’t wake with a toothache-induced migraine every morning.
Though now he’s sitting in the world’s most uncomfortable waiting room chair, filled with Hongjoong’s prior anxiety, waiting desperately for his boyfriend’s return.
He fidgets with the strap of his backpack, the one he’d filled like they were headed on a weeklong trip. He had overcompensated for his own stress by overpacking for whatever Hongjoong may need once he wakes up from anesthesia—water bottles, a blanket, Hongjoong’s headphones, four different types of snacks that Hongjoong may be able to stomach.
In the time it takes, the older couple have come and gone, the waiting room filling up with more appointments, and in the end, the procedure takes less than an hour.
He’s already on his feet when the same nurse returns, “Jeong Yunho?”
His shoes squeak on the tile as he follows the nurse down the hallway, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He nearly runs into her when she pauses outside of the examination room, “the surgery went well, but I think that the anesthesia hit him harder than most. He might be out of it for a bit longer than usual.”
Yunho nods nervously, intending to ask her what she means, but the moment he sees his boyfriend, he understands well enough.
Poor Hongjoong is reclined in the chair, staring at the ceiling dazedly, like he’s entered another dimension. His cheeks are puffed with swelling, gauze protruding from the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t notice them when they enter the room.
“Look who I brought with me,” the nurse announces cheerfully, effectively waking Hongjoong from his disassociation.
“Hey, Joong-ie,” Yunho says softly, brushing apricot strands from his forehead, “how’re you feeling?”
He tilts his head slowly toward his voice, squinting up at Yunho, “do I know you?”
His words are slurred, almost unintelligible around the gauze, but Yunho is able to decipher them well enough. His hand freezes on Hongjoong’s head, glancing over at the sheepish nurse before nodding slowly, “yeah, you could say that.”
So this is what the nurse meant. He expected Hongjoong to be out of it, he’s seen enough anesthesia videos on social media. But he didn’t realize the warning from the nurse had meant that Hongjoong would forget their relationship so easily because of some laughing gas.
He attempts not to appear so startled when Hongjoong narrows his eyes at him, not noticing that Yunho’s hand is still on his head, “I have a boyfriend, you know.”
Yunho sticks his tongue in his cheek, trying to stifle the laughter crawling up his throat. Hongjoong looks at the nurse and repeats, almost smugly, “I have a boyfriend.”
The nurse plays along as she gathers his discharge pages, glancing at Yunho with an amused smile, “oh, do you?”
“Mm-hmm,” Hongjoong hums, lips curling into a fond smile around the gaze and swollen lips, “he’s really tall. And really handsome,” he sits up suddenly, tossing his hands in the air, “you’d know if you saw him.”
Yunho finally retracts his hand, only to cover his mouth. Hongjoong doesn’t notice, continuing his long winded rant about the man standing right beside him.
“I miss him. He makes me really good soup,” his voice sounds heavier, more choked up, and his amusement flattens immediately when he sees the tears welling in his eyes, “I miss him so much.”
“Well, you’re in luck. He’s right there, Hongjoong-ssi,” the nurse assures.
Hongjoong doesn’t seem to process her words, sniffling, “I miss him.”
“It’s okay, Joong,” Yunho murmurs, squeezing his shoulder. The man blinks lazily up at him, like he’d forgotten he was there, “let’s get you home, okay?”
“I need to wait for my boyfriend.”
“I am your boyfriend,” Yunho replies slowly.
Hongjoong slumps back, ignoring Yunho, “I love my boyfriend. He’s so perfect,” then he lifts his hands, like he’s confused by his own limbs, before pressing his fingertips against his cheeks, “why can’t I feel my face? Is it still there?”
“It’s still there, don’t worry,” the nurse says, gesturing toward the wheelchair that has arrived.
Yunho tugs at Hongjoong’s sleeve, “come on, baby, let’s go home, okay?”
Hongjoong mumbles out an agreement, clutching Yunho’s hand as he stumbles off of the chair, nearly crashing to the floor if it weren’t for Yunho’s grip on his waist. He lets out a ditzy little “oh,” like he hadn’t almost face planted into the tiles.
He gently sets Hongjoong into the wheelchair, “okay?”
Hongjoong looks down at his feet, frowning, “are my legs broken?”
“What?”
“I can’t walk. Are my legs broken?” He asks with more panic, voice shrill.
“No, honey, your legs aren’t broken.”
Hongjoong makes a noise through the gauze, not sounding convinced.
The nurse ushers Hongjoong and Yunho out of the clinic, Hongjoong continuing to talk in slurred, choppy sentences that not even Yunho can decipher. The nurse is sweet, taking all of Hongjoong’s meager complaints with a soothing voice and a gentle hand on his shoulder.
They’re barley into the parking lot when Yunho has to intervene when Hongjoong begins to whine about what the fuck is in his mouth.
“You’ve gotta leave the gauze in there, baby,” Yunho tells him gently, prying his hands away from his lips.
Hongjoong looks affronted by the pet name, “I have a boyfriend.”
“I know you do,” Yunho replies amicably, opening the passenger door. “Let’s get you in the car, Joong.”
“I can’t,” Hongjoong whines, “they broke my legs.”
“They just removed your wisdom teeth. They didn’t break your legs.”
“They took my teeth?” He gasps, hands flying up to his face. Yunho’s eyes widened—apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Hongjoong turns in the wheelchair to gape at the nurse, “you took my teeth?”
“Your teeth are fine, I promise. They’re in there, okay?” Yunho rushes to say, tugging on his sleeve, trying to redirect before Hongjoong starts demanding his wisdom teeth back from the poor nurse. “We gotta get in the car, then we can get you some ice cream.”
“But my teeth,” he cries pitifully, lip quivering.
Hongjoong continues to complain, but it takes little effort for Yunho to maneuver him out of the wheelchair and into the passenger seat. He buckles him in before Hongjoong realizes his legs do work and he makes a break for it.
The nurse hands him the documents, smiling supportively, “he’ll be more aware in an hour or two. Just follow the instruction manual and the medication regiment and you’ll be good to go.”
He nods, not entirely sure what he’s supposed to do when Hongjoong is this disoriented, but as he slides into the driver’s seat, Hongjoong so silent, he hopes that he’ll fall asleep on the ride home to make it easy on both of them.
But Hongjoong is stubborn, even while handling the residual anesthesia.
His boyfriend gazes dreamily out of the passenger window, messing with a loose thread in his sweater as Yunho pulls out of the parking lot. He mumbles, “this is crazy. So crazy.”
“What is?”
“What?”
Yunho snorts, unable to help it. Hongjoong looks at him like he’s offended him.
He goes silent again, before sighing, “my boyfriend drives me places all of the time.”
“Does he?”
“Mhm,” he hums. “He’s really good. Never gotten into an accident or anything.”
“That is important.”
“It’s sexy. He’s so hot.”
Yunho feels his ears going hot, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. It’s impossible to hide his grin, even when Hongjoong’s head turns toward him.
“You kinda look like him.”
“Do I?”
Hongjoong narrows his eyes, and Yunho manages a look in his direction at the stop light, “not as handsome though.”
Yunho chokes out a laugh, “damn.”
“Don’t feel bad. My boyfriend is so nice. He’s so pretty, his smile is so pretty. He’s—he’s so,” his head falls limp against the seat, eye lashes fluttering, “I wanna marry him.”
Yunho damn near takes out a street lamp, ruining his perfect driving record. When he finally glances over, Hongjoong’s eyes have fluttered shut, lips pushed into a pout around the gauze.
He presses a palm to his forehead. God, help him. Even while high on laughing gas, bloody gauze pooling in the corners of his lips, Yunho still feels the same butterflies in his stomach that he did when he first met Hongjoong. He takes quite a few steadying breaths, but it does nothing to kick the smile off of his face.
He hopes Hongjoong will stay asleep until they arrive home, but of course he starts stirring as they’re nearly there.
“Milkshake…”
Yunho glances over, amused, “milkshake?”
“Need one,” he opens his eyes, nodding solemnly, “for the healing.”
He pulls into the first place he sees, “okay, milkshake it is.”
Hongjoong is barely conscious as they maneuver through the drive through, but he’s definitely aware when he hands Hongjoong the styrofoam cup—with a spoon, not a straw, because Yunho has done his research on dry sockets.
His boyfriend stares at it like a gift from God, before turning those same watery eyes to Yunho, “this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Yunho shakes his head, “I know that’s not true.”
“This is so nice,” Hongjoong sniffles, fumbling with the spoon. “Is this cookies and cream?”
“Of course, that’s your favorite, right?”
Tears dribble down Hongjoong’s swollen cheeks, “how’d you know?”
Yunho giggles, “I know you,” he reaches out a hand, “let me change your gauze, okay? Then you can eat.”
Hongjoong opens his mouth obediently for Yunho to snag the pieces of destroyed cotton. They pool grossly in his palm, and he doesn’t mind all that much, but the moment Hongjoong sees the bloody scene, he gasps, “that was in my mouth?”
“It’s for the bleeding. It’s okay—“
“I’m bleeding out?— Hey, stop holding it! That’s so gross.”
“It’s really okay, I don’t mind, Joong,” he deposits them in an abandoned bag before coating his hands in sanitizer.
Hongjoong is sniffling still, like Yunho has just given him the moon, “you got me a milkshake and you just did that for me?” He leans his head back, milkshake forgotten in his hands to the point that Yunho has to tilt it back toward him so it doesn’t spill all over the seat, “you’re so nice.”
He tries to hide his fond smile, brushing a tear away from Hongjoong’s cheek gently, “I’m your boyfriend, I’d do anything for you.”
“You’re my boyfriend?” Hongjoong gasps, staring at him with wide, wet eyes like he can’t fathom that what Yunho says is true.
Yunho laughs, nodding, as he puts the car back in drive. They should definitely get home now so Hongjoong can try to sleep off the residual medicine in his system before his teeth start aching, “we’ve been dating for two years.”
Hongjoong sighs dreamily, fumbling again for his spoon before he shoves a spoonful into his numb mouth, “my boyfriend is so nice.”
Hongjoong remains relatively quiet for the rest of the drive home. He mumbles ever so often around the ice cream in his mouth, refusing to clarify when Yunho asks him to, but Yunho figures it’s better than him crying again.
Getting him out of the car is a different story. Hongjoong has fortunately remembered how to use his legs, but it doesn’t mean he has any of his usual coordination. He refuses to allow Yunho to carry him, insisting that he can do it himself, which means it takes them twice the amount of time to venture up to their apartment than usual — especially long considering Hongjoong clicked the button for three other floors below theirs all while giggling.
Only when they finally arrive at theirs does Hongjoong begin to complain about the pain in his mouth.
Yunho quickly gets him cozy underneath a blanket on their couch before he scrambles for all of the supplies he’s prepared before they left along with organizing the medication that the dentist prescribed. Before Hongjoong can complain about the pain a second time, he has an ice pack cupping underneath his jaw and fresh gauze stuffed in his mouth with minimal additional complaint.
Hongjoong does stubbornly refuse to lay down, no matter how hard Yunho tries. He pets the smaller man’s head, gently trying to push him toward the pillow, “baby, you need to rest.”
“I’m not tired,” Hongjoong whines. It’s a lie, considering how difficult it seems for him to keep his eyes open.
“You look tired.”
“I’m not,” he insists, gripping the front of Yunho’s shirt, pouting. He tugs him closer, “I want a kiss first.”
Yunho smiles fondly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. But it isn’t enough.
Hongjoong points to his mouth, impatiently. Yunho doesn’t understand at first what the other man wants, instead grabbing a wet wipe to dab at the corners of his mouth. It only makes Hongjoong more frustrated, scowling, “no, kiss me.”
The brunet gives his hand a comforting squeeze, finding success when Hongjoong finally allows his body to sink into the cushions, “the nurse said we can’t kiss until you’re not as swollen. But I can—“
Before Yunho can finish his sentence, the waterworks make a horrible reappearance. Yunho panics, trying to quell the tears but there’s no use, no matter how hard he tries to wipe them all with a tissue, “we can’t kiss?” Hongjoong’s lip wobbles pitifully, Yunho’s heart clenching painfully, “why would they say that?”
“Don’t cry, honey,” Yunho coos, pulling him in. His forehead knocks with his collarbone, body limp in Yunho’s arms, “I don’t want to hurt you. It’s just until your mouth starts healing.”
Hongjoong doesn’t seem satisfied with the explanation, still sniffling into his chest, “my boyfriend can’t kiss me. This is so unfair.”
“I’m sorry,” Yunho plants a kiss into his hair, rubbing his back comfortingly, “how about we get you into bed? You’ll feel a little better when you wake up.”
Hongjoong stubbornly shakes his head, refusing to move.
Eventually Yunho is able to maneuver him back against the mount of pillows he’d created so Hongjoong is elevated. Hongjoong’s lips are still pressed into a pout that isn’t quite entirely from the gauze shaping his mouth, “the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you’ll feel better and I can give you all of the kisses you want.”
His eyelashes flutter, sluggish as he blinks up at him, fingers still tangled in his shirt and stretching the fabric, “you promise?”
“I promise,” Yunho gives him a soft kiss to his swollen cheek, brushing hair from his eyes.
His boyfriend sighs, defeated. He fights against sleep for a bit longer before his body finally takes over and he goes blissfully still with slumber.
Yunho lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, shoulders slackening. He sits beside him for a bit longer, just to be sure he won’t wake again — and because he’s a bit worried Hongjoong might choke on the gauze in his mouth, before he gets to cleaning the mess he’d made this morning in the rush to get out of the door.
He’s closing the laundry door when his phone vibrates, Seonghwa’s caller ID pulsing insistently.
“Please tell me the patient is okay.”
Yunho rolls his eyes at the lack of greeting as he pinches the phone between his ear and shoulder, “the patient is asleep. He’s okay.”
Seonghwa sighs heavily, "I’m coming over later with some soup and things. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there sooner—“
“Hwa, you don’t gotta do that. Trust me, he’s like, really out of it.”
“My best friend was just in surgery and you’re trying to tell me not to come over—“
Yunho laughs, placating, “okay, okay, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you later,” he tells him. “He probably wouldn’t notice you now anyway. The anesthesia hit him hard.”
“What does that mean?”
“He didn’t remember who I was when he woke up,” Yunho explains, scrubbing at a bowl in the sink, nearly dropping his phone. “But I think he knows now?”
Seonghwa is silent for a brief moment before, “oh, god. I’ll be over in an hour.”
“Wait hyung, seriously, he’s okay—“
But the phone call ends and his protests are futile.
He figures there’s little Yunho could say to dissuade Seonghwa anyway. The only reason he hadn’t been at the clinic with Yunho is because he couldn’t get off of work. Yunho is a little happy about that though — he would’ve been pissed if Hongjoong remembered Seonghwa and not him.
When the apartment is relatively organized, Yunho takes up residence on the other end of the couch, peeking over at his boyfriend ever so often to make sure he’s still okay. Yunho is gently wiping the drool at the corner of Hongjoong’s mouth, when the door suddenly slams open, Seonghwa entering the apartment like a tidal wave, taking no survivors.
Hongjoong awakes slowly, eyes not quite seeing until he blinks a few times. He tries to speak, but it comes out in slurred, indecipherable words.
Yunho pats his knee, “hey, you’re okay. It’s just Seonghwa.”
“S’nghwa?” He questions.
The hyung in question drops to his knees beside the couch, nearly forgetting about the food in his arms that Yunho is forced to rescue. He acts as if he’s witnessing Hongjoong on his death bed, peering at him with wide eyes, “Joong? Are you alive?”
Yunho places the take out containers onto the coffee table and watches Hongjoong seemingly catalogue his body, patting his thighs weakly before drifting up to the ice pack around his jaw, frowning, “I think so?”
He’s relieved to see that his boyfriend looks more or less back to his usual self, if not just a tad lethargic. At least he looks more coherent, which is all Yunho can truly wish for.
“Do you remember me?” Seonghwa asks.
That makes Hongjoong frown more severely, glancing between his best friend and boyfriend before asking suspiciously, “why wouldn’t I?”
A chuckle bursts out of Yunho before he can stop it from escaping, able to find humor in the situation now that Hongjoong is clearly through the fog of anesthesia. However he receives a smug look from Seonghwa, which slightly dampens his mood. The expression that Hongjoong is directing his way is what makes him raise his hands in defense, “sorry, sorry.”
“What?” Hongjoong demands, squinting at his boyfriend. He attempts to sit up, batting away Seonghwa’s helping hands, “why are you laughing?”
“Nothing—“
His face morphs into horror as his brain hits a stark realization, “what did I do? Why are you laughing at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you—“
“Oh, no. I didn’t do anything stupid, did I? I wouldn’t do that.”
Seonghwa looks a few moments away from bursting with how intensely he’s forcing the laughter away, cheeks rosying, “Yun told me you forgot who he was.”
Hongjoong’s jaw drops, as far as it can with the restriction of his ice pack, and Yunho can’t help but reach for a napkin to wipe away a droplet of drool from his lip. Hongjoong swags his hand away, absolutely mortified, especially when he realizes why Yunho is doing it.
“No—no I didn’t,” Hongjoong argues, quickly, “I wouldn’t forget my boyfriend!”
“It’s okay,” Yunho coos, patting his knee, allowing his fond grin to flow free, “you did, but at least you started to remember when I put you to bed.”
“What did I do?” He wails, covering his face with his hands before wincing at the pain in his cheeks.
Yunho wonders if he should embellish a little, if only to allow his boyfriend to keep some of his dignity from the experience, but then again, Yunho has spent the entire day worried sick caring for him, he decides maybe they’ll both find humor in this. Maybe not now, but someday probably.
“When you woke up, you told the nurse you had a boyfriend without realizing I was your boyfriend. And when we got home, you really, really wanted me to kiss you,” Hongjoong groans in embarrassment, begging Yunho to stop, but Yunho’s cheeks are pinching with how hard he’s smiling, “I thought you were going to cry when I told you no.”
“You’re lying! You asshole, stop laughing,” Hongjoong kicks his socked foot into Seonghwa’s side, which doesn’t really do much to quell their friend’s laughter. Hongjoong pouts more severely, glancing up at Yunho, grumbling, “I told you this would happen. I never should have let you talk me into it.”
Yunho gently coaxes Hongjoong into his side, even as his boyfriend tries weakly to fend him off before resolutely melting into him, “it was cute. You’re cute when you’re all pouty.”
“Ugh,” is Hongjoong’s very eloquent, very dismayed response.
After a few more threats of bodily harm thrown in Seonghwa’s direction, the laughter fades into a cozy atmosphere as they dig into the food their friend so kindly brought. Hongjoong’s complaints don’t quite slow, considering he’s been resigned to a warm congee while the others eat more solids that his mouth can’t handle yet. Yunho makes sure that he eats most of it before the smaller man settles back into him, resting his head on the pillow that’s propped up on Yunho’s thighs.
When a new round of medication is administered, Hongjoong is out again and despite Yunho’s protests, Seonghwa helps clean up their meal before taking his leave, announcing with a pleased smile that his job here is done.
When the sun begins to set over the city, Yunho gently maneuvers Hongjoong into his arms the best he can without waking the other man. He isn’t successful, bringing out Hongjoong’s pout once more as he clings onto Yunho’s shirt, “where…?”
“I’m taking you to bed, baby,” he murmurs, settling Hongjoong underneath their duvet, combing a hand through his hair. Hongjoong shifts on the mattress, grumbling out a complaint when Yunho’s hand leaves, “is your mouth bothering you?”
“No,” he snags Yunho’s wrist, pulling him closer, “get over here.”
“Let me change really quick, okay?”
“No,” he whines. And while Hongjoong’s lips are chapped, Yunho has never been so tempted to kiss him.
“I promise I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get you some moisturizer for your lips, too.”
“Then will you kiss me?” He asks, squinting at him, a quirk to his lips that tells Yunho that he’s teasing.
Yunho leans in and presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, smiling oh so fondly, “maybe, if you’re lucky.”
Hongjoong releases Yunho, sighing dramatically as he allows his hand to fall to the mattress limply, “fine. But I’ll be keeping track of how long you’re gone.”
“Gonna get the stopwatch out?”
“1…2…3…”
That gets Yunho moving. He grabs pajamas and freshens up in the bathroom, completing his night routine rather quickly so he doesn’t have to make Hongjoong wait. He returns to their bed with minty breath and clean skin, seeing his boyfriend curled underneath their duvet, propped up against a stack of pillows and looking horribly miserable with the cushion still packed underneath his jaw.
He moves in beside him, curling his arms around him, the older man chastising, “that was like, twenty minutes.”
Yunho attempts to press a kiss against his cheek but his boyfriend shrinks away, “I’m sorry. I came back though, didn’t I?”
Hongjoong doesn’t respond, which is way worse than if Hongjoong was adamantly scolding him for taking too long. Yunho worries that something is wrong, or that Hongjoong has already fallen asleep because of the medication, but he’s wide awake, just dutifully looking anywhere but him.
Yunho sits up on his elbow, pouting as he stares at the side of his face, “what’s wrong, honey? Is it hurting?”
“No. I mean, not really. It’s just kind of a dull ache.”
“Then what’s wrong?” He tilts his head in his direction, Hongjoong’s lips pressed into a firm line. He pulls further away when Yunho’s thumb brushes the corner of his mouth, “Joong?”
“I’m embarrassed,” he mumbles back, finally.
“What?”
“I’m embarrassed," he repeats, finally looking at Yunho, eyes a little watery with petulance in his forehead. Yunho tries to smooth it out.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed," he assumes he’s talking about what Yunho detailed from the dentist’s office earlier and the rest of their slow evening. He wonders if he should’ve kept it a secret, even if there was nothing to be embarrassed about, “seriously. It happens to everyone under anesthesia.”
“Still…” he trails off, pinching the skin on Yunho’s knuckle in nervous habit.
Yunho frowns, pulling Hongjoong in before he can squirm any further from him. His boyfriend makes a noise of complaint, but he isn’t really adverse for the cuddles, especially when it means he can hide his flushed face in Yunho’s chest. He rubs his hand in soothing patterns down Hongjoong’s back, “really, Joong. It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
“I feel bad that you’ve had to take care of me all day,” he mumbles into his shirt, nearly indiscernible.
“I’d do it forever if you let me.”
“Stop,” Hongjoong whines, contradicting his words entirely when he clings tighter.
The bedroom lulls into comfortable silence, breathing one another in, Yunho continuing rubbing the smaller man’s back until he feels the muscles laxening under his touch.
“You know, not to bring it up again, but you said something on the drive home,” Yunho starts, unable to help himself. He’d been thinking about it since the words left Hongjoong’s mouth. And while he knows they probably didn’t mean anything, brought on by the medication, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t affect Yunho any less.
“If it’s embarrassing, I don’t want to know.”
“It’s not. It was actually really sweet.”
Hongjoong pulls back just far enough to glare up at him, but with the pout in his lips, Yunho can only feel endeared and not at all threatened, “that’s the same thing.”
“It’s not,” Yunho cups his cheek, his smile growing wider, “you were talking about me, you know, when you didn’t realize it was me.”
“Yunho,” he complains.
He continues, “you were complimenting my driving, said I was the hottest driver ever.”
Hongjoong makes a noise of despair.
“Then you said you wanted to marry me.”
His boyfriend fumbles for a response before groaning, “I hate you.” He rolls on his back, wincing when it makes his mouth throb.
Yunho laughs, “no, baby. Come back.”
“You’ve lost your privileges.”
Hongjoong stares at the ceiling, pointedly not giving Yunho the attention as a flush takes over his complexion. Yunho makes an over dramatic longing noise that makes sure his boyfriend doesn’t punish him for too long.
He allows Yunho to cuddle him once more. And Yunho thinks that’s the end of that discussion, until Hongjoong opens his mouth.
“I mean, I wasn’t lying.”
“Hm?”
“About marrying you.”
Yunho is the one lost for words this time, chest swelling three times its size. He feels Hongjoong’s heartbeat against his own as he curls against him.
“I’ve thought about it for a while. Guess laughing gas me is a little more bold than I actually am.”
Yunho just looks at him for a long moment, long enough that Hongjoong can’t maintain the eye contact, opening his mouth to do some sort of damage control—a habit of his whenever he confesses hard feelings, one that Yunho has tried to help him kick because there’s nothing for his beautiful boyfriend to be insecure about when it comes to how he feels.
“I really wish I could kiss you,” Yunho complains, pressing a kiss to Hongjoong’s temple, another to the swell of his cheek, the next to the tip of his nose. Hongjoong giggles, cheeks flushed warm enough that Yunho can feel the heat against his lips, “this is so unfair.”
“You’re the one who brought it up!”
“Because I—I don’t know, I wanted to see what you would say.”
“Well now you know,” Hongjoong murmurs, smiling at him, “maybe not any time soon, since we’re both so busy, but someday. I would like to marry you someday.”
“Someday,” Yunho promises softly, pressing his lips once more to his cheek. Hongjoong throws a thigh over Yunho’s hip, resting his head against his bicep.
Yunho knows his arm is definitely going to fall asleep, especially when the man’s body goes limp in his embrace, but he couldn’t care less. His dramatic, beautiful future fiance is worth all of the tingling limbs for a lifetime.