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Although they’d arrived together, Geonwoo had inevitably been pulled away into a conversation with his boss, who wanted to introduce him to some people Geonwoo’s already forgotten the names of. He’s still nursing the welcome drink he’d been offered upon arrival, resigned to not drink too much as he was the designated driver. Not that he ever drank much at company parties; PDA wasn’t exactly appropriate at events like this, and alcohol had a way of lowering his inhibitions, rendering him unable to resist his better half. It wasn’t his fault he was married to the most beautiful person in any room.
Instinctually, Geonwoo scans the room and spots Junseo chatting to one of his coworkers, laughing a little too hard at something they’d said, his coworker leaning a little too far over the high-top table separating them. He excuses himself from the conversation with a polite bow before slipping into the crowd, making his way towards Junseo.
“There you are, sweetheart,” Geonwoo says, pressing a quick kiss to Junseo’s temple and snaking an arm around his waist. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Geonwoo-yah,” Junseo says, leaning into the touch, the small of his back tucked into the bend of Geonwoo’s arm. “Looking for me? Why?”
“Hm?” Geonwoo says, reaching up to brush the hair out of Junseo’s eyes, the other looking up at him with a knowing and somewhat amused expression. “Do I need a reason?”
“No,” Junseo replies, a glint in his eyes. “But you usually have one.”
A slightly embarrassed smile tugs at the corner of Geonwoo’s lips at being seen through so easily, though he should’ve expected nothing less from Junseo. He squeezes Junseo’s waist for a second, then finally turns to his coworker.
“Xinlong-ssi, it’s good to see you again,” Geonwoo says. “I hope your trip to Beijing went well?”
“It went very well, thank you, hyung-nim,” Xinlong says, dipping his head. “I was just telling Junseo hyung about it.”
Hyung? Geonwoo thinks, fingers digging into the material of Junseo’s shirt and the soft muscle underneath almost absentmindedly, instinctually. Since when did you call him hyung? Xinlong had only been working at the company for about half a year, and he’d only met Junseo twice before this.
“Xinlongie says the skyline over there is beautiful,” Junseo continues, and Geonwoo swears he feels a muscle twitching somewhere on his face at the nickname. “He said you’re always changing the background on your work computer to photos I send you of the sky. You never told me you do that.”
Geonwoo blinks, looking back down at Junseo. “Oh,” he says. “Well, yeah, I uh– I like them. They’re pretty.”
“Ah, I think someone’s calling for me,” Xinlong says, looking at someone behind Geonwoo. “You’ll have to excuse me, hyung-nim, Junseo hyung.”
He bows before walking off, and Geonwoo turns fully to Junseo now, letting out a breath.
“How are you feeling?” Geonwoo asks.
“I’m fine,” Junseo replies, a fond but exasperated smile on his face. “You don’t need to hover, Geonwoo.”
“I’m not hovering,” he says, well aware that he is. “Can’t a guy just be worried about his husband?”
“You can,” Junseo says, poking Geonwoo’s chest with a finger. “If you get me another one of those welcome drinks. They’re delicious.”
“Okay,” Geonwoo says, and he looks around quickly before stooping down to steal a quick kiss. “One more drink coming right up.”
Junseo scoffs, again rather fondly, and pushes Geonwoo’s chest. After getting Junseo another drink, they’re joined at their high top table by a few other coworkers of Geonwoo’s. The whole time, Geonwoo keeps an arm around Junseo’s waist, hovering half behind him, trying to resist the urge to lower his head and rest his chin on Junseo’s shoulder.
Conversation flows easily; Junseo is more of an extrovert than Geonwoo, and far better at socializing and small talk than he is. That’s probably why Xinlong had called him hyung so comfortably; Junseo had probably told him he could, trying to make him feel at ease. He flushes retroactively, hiding it with a cough as he ducks behind Junseo’s head.
An hour or two passes with small talk, polite handshakes, and a couple of more drinks fetched for his husband, when Geonwoo spots his friend and coworker, Sangwon, starting to look a little pale, his shoulders hunched as he listens to the conversation.
“I think I’m gonna go for a smoke,” Geonwoo says.
“Alright,” Junseo says, “I’ll stay here, it’s freezing outside.”
Geonwoo nods, squeezing Junseo’s waist before letting go. “Sangwon-ah, do you want to join me?”
“Hm? Sure,” Sangwon says, putting down his drink and straightening up. “Let’s go.”
They walk outside onto the patio together, the cool night air a welcome change from the stuffy air inside. Geonwoo pulls out a cigarette, feeling for his lighter and swearing under his breath when he realizes he’d forgotten one.
“Did you bring a light?” Geonwoo asks.
“Yeah,” Sangwon replies, pulling his lighter out and handing it to Geonwoo.
He lights his cigarette then returns it to Sangwon, who lights one of his own. “I hate these events,” he sighs.
“Me too,” Sangwon says. “Thanks, by the way.”
“What? What for?”
“You know what for,” Sangwon says, waving his cigarette. “No need to act all cool and mysterious with me, Geonwoo. I know you’re secretly a softie.”
Geonwoo laughs, shaking his head. “Fine, you caught me. I just know that you’re– well, you’re like me. You also hate these parties. If I needed a break from it, you must have too.”
Sangwon smiles and takes a drag, blowing the smoke out slowly. “You scared the shit out of Xinlong, by the way,” he says, his smile turning into a lopsided grin.
“I did?”
“I don’t blame him,” Sangwon says. “I saw it happen from across the room– you went full guard dog on the poor kid.”
“Guard dog?” Geonwoo says, scoffing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sangwon rolls his eyes. “Geonwoo, you looked at him like you were gonna bite his head off. What’d he do, call Junseo hyung pretty in front of you?”
“... No,” Geonwoo says, crossing his arms over his chest right as his heart does a painful little twist behind his ribs. Had he been that obvious? “I didn’t mean to scare him,” he adds, a little sheepish.
“Well I know that,” Sangwon says. “Like I said– I know your deep dark secret, Kim Geonwoo. You’re a big softie. But I can’t speak for everyone else, and given the look on Xinlong’s face… he probably thinks he’s going to be fired.”
“Was it really that bad?”
“Like I said, full guard dog mode. You know those scary dobermanns you always see mafia bosses in movies with?”
“Shit,” Geonwoo groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I– I’ll apologize on Monday.”
Sangwon laughs, and Geonwoo groans again. They finish their cigarettes and go back inside, and Geonwoo finds that Junseo isn’t standing where he left him. He frowns, looking around the room, tip toeing slightly so he towers over the crowd more than he normally does. He doesn’t see Junseo anywhere, so he follows the wall on the right to the door leading out into the hallway, pushing it open with a shoulder and heading for the men’s bathroom to check if he was there.
He opens the door and his stomach drops, vision going red for a moment as his grip on the doorknob tightens to the point that it’s painful. Someone he doesn’t recognize— maybe someone from another department, or another company entirely— is crowding Junseo against the sink. He doesn’t seem to hear the door opening, but Junseo does, and he turns to Geonwoo wide-eyed and panicked, looking so awfully small and frightened. Geonwoo moves without thinking, shouldering the man out of the way and wrapping his fingers around Junseo’s wrist, pulling him behind him before turning to face the man.
“Can I help you?” Geonwoo says, voice low and even, an edge to it that isn’t usually there. Not around Junseo, anyway. The hand that isn’t holding on to his wrist is balled tightly into a fist, and he’s fighting every instinct in his body that’s telling him to just knock the man in front of him out. “If you have something to say to my husband, I’m sure you can tell me too.”
The man’s eyes narrow, and he’s moving like he’s trying to catch sight of Junseo’s face again. “Husband? Why didn’t you tell me you had a husband, beautiful?”
“He shouldn’t need to tell you anything other than ‘no’ to make you back off,” Geonwoo says, voice clipped. He can feel Junseo’s heart beating where his fingers press against his wrist, staccato like and too fast. Junseo presses his forehead to Geonwoo’s shoulder. “Get out of here before I change my mind about breaking your hand.”
The man frowns, but throws his hands up in defeat. He straightens his suit and smooths over his hair, then leaves the bathroom.
Geonwoo’s shoulders go slack, all the tension slipping out of him as he turns around and pulls Junseo to his chest, arms tight around his shoulders. Junseo melts into it, burying his head in Geonwoo’s neck, breathing shallow but even.
“‘M sorry, hyung,” Geonwoo says. “I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t–”
“Not your fault,” Junseo murmurs, his grip on Geonwoo’s suit jacket tightening. “You couldn’t have known. Just glad you’re here.”
Geonwoo sighs, but doesn’t argue. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, not really, not right now. What matters is making sure Junseo is okay. “Let’s get some air,” he says softly, and Junseo nods.
He finds Junseo’s hand, intertwining their fingers and leading him out of the bathroom, grabbing their coats on the way, and out onto the street. Junseo is a little unsteady on his feet, stumbling over the cobblestone. Geonwoo catches him, arm slipping around his waist like it’s second nature. Shit. He hadn’t realized how drunk Junseo had gotten.
“You okay?” Geonwoo asks.
“Geonwoo-yah,” Junseo mumbles with a happy smile, head falling forwards to rest against Geonwoo’s chest again.
Oh god. How much did Junseo have to drink again? How many drinks had Geonwoo been sent to fetch? At least he might be drunk enough that he doesn’t really remember the horrible encounter in the bathroom.
“Junseo-yah,” Geonwoo replies, cradling Junseo’s cheek so he can tip his head up towards him. Junseo looks up at him through fluttering lashes, gaze soft. “Are you okay? Really?”
“Mmh,” Junseo says, nodding, but he looks a little dazed in a familiar way. Not just alcohol, but something else, something that makes him soft and pliable.
“You should’ve told me you’d gotten this drunk,” Geonwoo says. “I wouldn’t have left you.”
“Am not drunk,” Junseo says, a slight whine in his voice. “You’re just lame, you never… you never drink with me anymore.”
“Well, someone has to drive,” Geonwoo says with a soft laugh he can’t help. “I can’t exactly let you drive in this state.”
“You have a car? Since when?”
Alright. Very drunk, then. It’s somewhat of a relief, and Geonwoo’s voice is lighter when he says, “like, ten years ago?” and squeezes Junseo’s waist, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Alright, sweetheart, I think it’s time to go home.”
“Home?” Junseo says, pulling away slightly and tipping his head to one side. He’s blinking innocently up at Geonwoo, a look on his face that makes something hot twist in the pit of his stomach. “Okay, mine or yours?”
“Ours,” Geonwoo replies.
“Oh, wow!” Junseo says with a bright laugh, winding his arms around Geonwoo’s neck happily.
Geonwoo shakes his head with a fond sigh. He accepts that his boss is going to think he’s rude for leaving without saying goodbye, and takes Junseo straight to their car, where he first tries to get into the backseat before realizing that Geonwoo was holding the passenger door open for him, climbing into that seat instead. He closes the door then walks over to the driver’s side, getting in, pulling out of the parking lot, turning on the radio and using muscle memory to tune it to Junseo’s favorite channel, one that plays mostly ballads.
Beside him, Junseo hums, his eyes fluttering closed. Geonwoo reaches over the console and finds one of Junseo’s hands, intertwining their fingers, and Junseo responds with a soft noise of contentment. It’s not long before he’s drifted off, head rolling onto his shoulder.
The city passes by in bright flashes of neon lights, still alive and pulsing even in the cold winter night. Had Junseo been a little less drunk and a bit more awake, he’d probably be commenting on how pretty it looked, how the lights reminded him of a movie he’d watched recently, or telling Geonwoo about a book he was reading. Instead, Junseo is snoring softly next to him, still holding onto his hand.
His jaw tightens as he remembers the look on Junseo’s face when he entered the bathroom, something white hot and uncomfortable flaring up in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy; he knew the heat of that, the way it curled like a snake in the pit of his stomach. He’d felt it, even if just briefly, when he’d seen Junseo and Xinlong together. Maybe Sangwon had been right about him being like a guard dog; Geonwoo could only describe it as a sort of primal instinct, and he’d done everything short of baring his teeth and biting the stranger.
He would have, he thinks, if the stranger had pushed him any further. He would’ve crushed the hand that had touched Junseo. It takes even himself by surprise, how sure of this he is, how comfortable he finds himself with the idea of committing this act of violence. The lengths he knows he’d go to protect Junseo.
Next to him, Junseo stirs, and Geonwoo glances over at him, that ache in his chest soothed at once just by the sight of him. He looks peaceful now, shoulders slack and lips slightly parted as he breathes in and out steadily.
They arrive home 20 minutes later. Geonwoo parks the car in the parking garage under their apartment building, sucking in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Junseo is fine. Nothing had happened.
Soft fingers brush Geonwoo’s where they’re wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, and he looks down to see Junseo gently unfurling them one by one before taking his hand in his own.
“You’ve sobered up?” Geonwoo asks quietly.
“A little,” Junseo replies, voice tired but more there than it had been earlier, steadier somehow. “Take me home, Geonwoo.”
Maybe Geonwoo is a dog; and if he is, he’s an obedient one. He slips out of the car and walks around to the other side, opening the door for Junseo and offering a hand that Junseo takes. He lets go only to wrap his arm around Junseo’s waist to support him, and the other leans into him willingly, pliantly.
The door to their apartment closes behind them with a soft click, the electric lock sliding into place as Junseo leans back against the door with a sigh. Geonwoo quickly puts their coats on hangers and kicks off his shoes before getting down on one knee, undoing Junseo’s laces and slipping the shoes off his feet carefully. Junseo makes a noise, and Geonwoo looks up at him like a man in prayer at an altar. His fingers brush against the outside of Junseo’s legs as he stands back up, over his thighs, finally settling at his hips. He stoops down to press his lips to Junseo’s, softly, hands coming up to slip under his suit jacket, sliding it off Junseo’s shoulders. He loosens the knot on Junseo’s tie, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.
Junseo sighs again, a weary sound, head falling forwards and into the crook of Geonwoo’s neck. Without a word, Geonwoo picks Junseo up and carries him to the bathroom, where he sets him down on the counter. Junseo leans back until his shoulders hit the mirror behind him, eyes half shut as he looks at Geonwoo.
“Here,” Geonwoo says, handing Junseo his toothbrush. “Then we sleep.”
“I could sleep like this,” Junseo replies, fighting a yawn.
“I’ll carry you to the bed if you do.”
“And undress me?”
“Just brush your teeth,” Geonwoo says, laughing softly and pinching Junseo’s thigh, earning a light slap to his hand.
Another good sign; Junseo was still cracking jokes, even when the alcohol had worn off a little. Geonwoo wants to ask how much he remembers of his encounter with the stranger in the bathroom, but he doesn’t want to stir up any unnecessary memories either. If Junseo does remember, he’s probably trying to compartmentalize it first. Sort out where it fits, what to do with it, and he knows that when he’s ready, he’ll include Geonwoo in his train of thought too.
They brush their teeth in comfortable silence, and Geonwoo makes Junseo drink a glass of water before they go to their bedroom. Once there, Junseo flops onto the bed, arms spread out as he stares up at the ceiling unseeingly. Geonwoo lets him lie there, knowing him well enough to know when he’s thinking, compartmentalizing, and changes into a t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers before sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Junseo. He puts a hand on Junseo’s thigh, feeling the muscles twitch under the touch before relaxing. And he waits. He lets Junseo take his time, thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of his slacks as reassurance that he’s here.
Finally, after a couple of minutes of this, Junseo finds his words. “I felt so… small,” he says quietly. He lifts his head, moving his arms so he can rest his weight on his elbow and lift his torso off the mattress. His eyes find Geonwoo’s. “Not good small, like you make me feel, but sort of… helpless, and afraid.”
Geonwoo nods, and presses his thumb into Junseo’s thigh, a quiet affirmation that he’s listening.
“I knew nothing was going to happen– I mean, the door wasn’t even locked, and if I screamed loud enough somebody would’ve heard, but…” Junseo’s voice drifts off, and he bites his lip. “I don’t know.”
“All your feelings are good,” Geonwoo says softly, steadily. He’s known Junseo long enough to know when to try and fix and when to just listen and comfort. “There’s no wrong way to react to something like this.”
“I knew you’d come,” Junseo says. “Isn’t that strange? I was so sure you’d come, Geonwoo, and you did.”
“Of course,” Geonwoo says. “Always.”
A tired smile tugs at the corners of Junseo’s lips, and Geonwoo returns it before he reaches up and undoes Junseo’s belt, the button of his slacks, rolling down the zipper, and stands up to pull them off. He tugs Junseo’s tie off and then unbuttons his shirt, shifting so that he’s standing again, bent over Junseo as he presses a hand to the small of Junseo’s back to hold him up while he pulls the shirt off. Junseo goes slack under his touch, and he lets Geonwoo manhandle him into the t-shirt, lets Geonwoo lift him up and arrange him on the bed. Every move is slow and deliberate; Geonwoo moves like a man who knows the trust he's been handed, who knows the weight of it in his hands, what it means to accept it. Junseo gives it to him without thinking twice.
Geonwoo lingers for a moment on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair out of Junseo’s eyes, while Junseo blinks back up at him, pupils blown.
“I’ve got you,” Geonwoo says. “I’ll take care of you.”
Junseo nods. Finally, Geonwoo crawls into bed next to him, pulling Junseo closer, tucking his head under his chin. Junseo makes a content noise, wrapping his arms around Geonwoo’s waist, breaths soft and warm where they fall against Geonwoo’s collarbones. They tangle their limbs together, and Geonwoo kisses the top of Junseo’s head before burrowing his face in his hair, breathing him in.
He slips his hands under Junseo’s shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin, to feel Junseo’s ribs shift under his skin as he breathes, to feel the slow and steady beating of his heart. Like any good guard dog, he can only sleep when he knows the one he’s guarding is safe.