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Juhoon had always considered himself difficult to embarrass.
It wasn’t that he never got embarrassed.
He did.
He simply had an excellent system for hiding it.
A blank expression or a slow blink.
Sometimes, a quiet, unimpressed “Okay.”
And, when absolutely necessary, walking away before anyone could see his ears turning red.
It worked on everyone, everyone except Martin.
Martin had somehow developed a sixth sense for Juhoon’s smallest reactions.
Martin could see the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the slight narrowing of his eyes or the way he looked down when someone complimented him too sincerely.
And, apparently, the way his ears turned pink whenever Martin called him something that wasn’t his name.
It started completely by accident.
They were in the studio late one evening, long after everyone else had left.
Juhoon was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, scrolling through his phone while Martin was sprawled across the other end.
“You hungry?”
“No.”
“You’ve eaten?”
“Yes.”
“What did you eat?”
Juhoon didn’t look up.
“Food.”
Martin stared at him.
“Wow.”
Juhoon continued scrolling.
“Very informative.”
Martin smiled.
“You know, you’re really cute when you’re annoying.”
Juhoon’s thumb stopped moving.
Only for half a second.
Martin noticed.
He leaned forward.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
Then Martin grinned.
“Such a cute boy.”
Juhoon’s head snapped up.
“What?”
Martin blinked innocently.
“What?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Just don’t.”
Martin studied him.
Juhoon looked back down at his phone.
Except he wasn’t actually doing anything anymore.
Martin’s grin widened.
“Okay, baby.”
Juhoon’s ears turned pink.
Martin nearly laughed.
Instead, he leaned back against the couch as though nothing had happened.
“Sorry.”
Juhoon glanced at him suspiciously.
“You don’t sound very sorry.”
“I am.”
“You are smiling.”
“I smile all the time.”
“You’re smiling differently.”
Martin’s eyebrows lifted.
“You’ve been studying my smiles?”
“No.”
“Sure.”
Juhoon went back to his phone.
Martin watched him for another few seconds.
Then he quietly said,
“Baby.”
Juhoon’s shoulders stiffened.
Martin’s smile became unbearable.
There it was.
The reaction.
Small.
Barely visible.
But real.
Juhoon looked over.
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what.”
Martin laughed.
“I genuinely don’t.”
“You’re doing it on purpose.”
“I am absolutely not.”
“Martin.”
“Juhoon.”
Juhoon glared.
Martin smiled.
And that was the moment Martin realized something interesting.
Juhoon liked it.
Maybe he didn’t know he liked it yet.
Maybe he would rather die than admit it.
But he liked it.
And Martin was going to have an extremely difficult time resisting the temptation to find out exactly how much.
⸻
The next morning, Juhoon was making coffee when Martin walked into the kitchen.
“Morning, pretty.”
Juhoon’s hand stopped around the mug.
He slowly looked over.
Martin was leaning against the doorframe, hair messy and fluffy, eyes half-open, looking far too pleased with himself.
“Good morning.”
Martin walked over.
“You sleep okay, baby?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Martin reached past him for a glass.
“Want breakfast?”
“No.”
“Juhoon.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“I’m fine.”
Martin sighed dramatically.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
Martin whines, enveloping Juhoon’s waist in his arms.
Juhoon stared at him.
Martin stared back.
“Please?”
Juhoon looked away.
“…Fine.”
Martin smiled.
“That’s my boy.”
And gave Juhoon a sweet peck.
Juhoon almost dropped the mug.
“Martin.”
“What?”
“You—”
Martin laughed.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“Your ears are red.”
Juhoon immediately covered them with both hands.
Martin laughed harder.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re the ridiculous one.”
“But you like it.”
Juhoon froze.
Martin’s smile softened.
He didn’t tease him this time.
“Don’t you?”
Juhoon looked down.
His voice was barely audible.
“…Maybe.”
Martin’s expression changed.
The teasing disappeared.
Something warmer replaced it.
“Yeah?”
Juhoon nodded once.
“Maybe.”
Martin stepped even closer.
“Okay.”
He gently nudged Juhoon’s shoulder.
“Then I’ll remember that.”
Juhoon looked up.
“Don’t overdo it.”
“I won’t.”
A pause.
“Probably.”
“Martin.”
“I’m kidding.”
⸻
He absolutely overdid it.
Not immediately.
That would have made Juhoon suspicious.
Instead, Martin slowly introduced the names into their everyday life.
“Come over, baby.”
“Drink your water, sweetheart.”
“Good job, pretty boy.”
“You look tired, honey.”
“Come here.”
“Sit down, love.”
“You’re doing great.”
Every time, Juhoon reacted.
Sometimes it was only a tiny smile.
Sometimes his ears turned pink.
Sometimes he buried his face in his sleeve.
Once, Martin called him “my pretty boy” in front of the others and Juhoon nearly walked into a wall.
Keonho noticed.
Of course he did.
He looked between them.
Then at Martin.
Then at Juhoon’s red ears.
“Oh.”
Juhoon immediately looked at him.
“Don’t.”
Keonho grinned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was absolutely about to.”
Martin started laughing.
Juhoon kicked his ankle beneath the table.
Martin only laughed harder.
⸻
Eventually, the pet names became less about teasing.
They became something quieter.
Something that belonged to them.
If Juhoon was tired, Martin called him “baby.”
If he was nervous, “sweetheart.”
If he accomplished something he was proud of, “pretty boy.”
And when Juhoon was upset, Martin’s voice became softer.
“Come here, love.”
That one always got him.
It made something inside Juhoon’s chest loosen.
Like being reminded that he didn’t have to be composed every second.
He could just exist.
He could be tired.
He could be quiet.
He could let someone take care of him.
One night, after a particularly exhausting day, Juhoon walked into their apartment and dropped onto the couch.
Martin looked up from his phone.
“Bad day?”
Juhoon nodded.
Martin immediately put his phone down.
“Come here.”
Juhoon hesitated.
Martin opened one arm.
“Come on, baby.”
That was enough.
Juhoon moved over and rested against him.
Martin’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.
“You don’t have to talk.”
Juhoon’s eyes closed.
“Okay.”
“Just rest.”
Juhoon breathed slowly.
Martin gently rubbed his shoulder.
“You’re okay.”
A few minutes passed.
Then Martin whispered,
“You’re doing really well, you know.”
Juhoon swallowed.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Martin kissed the top of his head.
“I’m proud of you.”
Juhoon went very still.
Martin felt him breathe in.
Then slowly exhale.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“It makes me…”
“Flustered?”
“No.”
Martin smiled.
“You’re terrible at lying.”
Juhoon sighed.
“…I like when you say it.”
Martin’s arm tightened around him.
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Of course.”
“How?”
“Because you always get softer.”
Juhoon looked up.
Martin smiled down at him.
“You don’t realize you’re doing it.”
Juhoon immediately looked away.
Martin laughed softly.
“You’re cute.”
“Don’t start.”
“Okay, baby.”
Juhoon groaned.
But he was smiling.
⸻
They hadn’t planned to fall asleep together.
That was the embarrassing part.
It was supposed to be another ordinary night.
Martin had been lying on his bed watching something on his phone while Juhoon sat beside him, insisting he wasn’t tired.
“I’m not sleeping here.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I’m just sitting.”
“Okay.”
“For a little while.”
“Okay.”
Martin didn’t argue.
He simply shifted over, giving Juhoon more space.
Eventually, Juhoon’s shoulder touched his.
Then his head.
Then, without either of them acknowledging it, Juhoon slowly leaned against Martin’s chest.
Martin looked down.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhm.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm.”
“Okay.”
Martin pulled the blanket over both of them.
“Sleep if you want, baby.”
“I won’t”
Juhoon hummed.
His eyes were already closed.
Martin smiled.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Night.”
Neither of them remembered falling asleep.
⸻
Juhoon woke sometime during the night.
For a moment, he didn’t understand where he was.
Then he felt warmth behind him.
An arm around his waist.
A steady breath against the back of his neck.
Martin.
Juhoon’s eyes widened.
He was in Martin’s bed.
More importantly, Martin was holding him.
And somehow, during the night, Juhoon had ended up completely tucked against him.
He should move.
That was the sensible thing.
Someone could see.
Carefully, Juhoon lifted Martin’s arm.
The moment he shifted forward, the arm tightened.
Juhoon froze.
Martin made a sleepy sound.
Then, without opening his eyes, he pulled Juhoon back against his chest.
“Where’re you going, baby?”
Juhoon’s heart stopped.
“I’m not.”
“Mhm.”
Martin was barely awake.
He tightened his hold again.
“Stay.”
Juhoon swallowed.
“Martin…”
“Five more minutes.”
“I should go to my room.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Sleepy.
Soft.
Almost childish.
Martin buried his face against Juhoon’s hair.
“Stay with me.”
Juhoon went completely still.
Then he felt Martin’s hand gently settle against his side.
“You’re warm.”
Juhoon’s cheeks burned.
“You say that to everyone?”
“No.”
Martin’s voice was already fading back into sleep.
“Just you, pretty boy.”
Juhoon closed his eyes.
He knew he should move.
He knew he should get up.
He knew this was probably going to be incredibly embarrassing in the morning.
But Martin’s breathing was steady behind him.
His arm was warm around Juhoon’s waist.
And somehow, for the first time, Martin’s bed didn’t feel like Martin’s.
It felt like somewhere Juhoon belonged.
So he stayed.
He carefully rested his hand over Martin’s.
And, with the smallest smile, whispered,
“Five more minutes.”
Martin hummed sleepily.
“That’s my baby.”
Juhoon’s face disappeared beneath the blanket.
But he didn’t move.
Not anymore.