Work Text:
The first time they meet is by accident.
One moment, Keonho is walking out of The Fix with a large coffee in one hand and an even larger macadamia chocolate chip cookie in the other. The next moment, someone hurries past, shoving him out of the way so hard that he stumbles into another customer, spilling his coffee all over the guy’s jacket.
“Oh fuck,” Keonho says, not even daring to look at the guy’s face. they’re standing real close, There are dark splashes all over the front of the guy’s otherwise green canvas jacket and brown sludge is dripping from the zipper. He looks a mess. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. That guy just ran me over, and I lost my balance and …”
Keonho knows he’s babbling, but he’s not that great at social interaction. He’s a maths major, so that’s pretty much expected. He decides that the least he can do is to look the guy in the eye when he apologizes, so he takes a deep breath to calm himself down, adjusts his glasses a little and looks up.
And holy shit. It’s just Keonho’s kind of luck that he had to ruin the outfit of just about the cutest guy on campus. Floppy, soft-looking hair, a light tan even though it’s in the middle of winter and a face that seems more bemused than angry in spite of what just happened.
Keonho swallows. He knows he should say something, knows that he wanted to say something just a moment ago, but it’s like the blue screen of doom inside his head. He might need a complete reboot. In lieu of a reboot, he tries to reassess the situation step-by-step: he looks at the guy’s jacket once more, then at his own hand holding the nearly empty coffee cup and then at his other hand. Without making a conscious decision, he reaches out that hand and says, “Cookie?”
Immediately, he wants to slap himself. But before he can do that or run away or hide behind a potted plant or do something equally dignified, the guy throws back his head and starts laughing. It’s big, bright and infectious. All white teeth, dimples and gleaming eyes.
“You’re something else,” he says when his laughter has died down some.
“I mean,” Keonho fumbles, rubbing his palm over his jaw in a nervous gesture, “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning. Or have it cleaned and delivered to you. Or whatever.”
The guy’s still smiling, it’s almost disconcerting. “No worries,” he says. “I never had something dry-cleaned before, I’m not gonna start now.”
“But,” Keonho sputters. This can’t be happening. Someone like that can’t be real. He can’t just let Keonho off the hook like that. He should be pissed-off and irritated and possibly a bit of a jerk.
“I’ll take the cookie, though.” The guy grins impishly and takes the cookie out of Keonho’s still-raised hand. “I gotta go, but nice running into you.” He chuckles. “Or being run into.” And with that, he’s gone.
The second time they meet is a coincidence.
Keonho’s sitting at a small table in the middle of the main food court, going over his notes for his next class and picking at his food, mostly oblivious to the noise and commotion around him. He’s always been good at tuning things out, which comes in handy with the hungry masses crowding the too-small space.
“Hey, that seat taken?” someone says and lightly touches Keonho’s shoulder. It’s a little strange to touch someone you don’t know, but it’s so loud around here that he decides it’s no big deal.
“No,” he replies, not looking up, pushing his things to one side of the Formica table so there’s enough space for the guy’s tray, “go ahead.”
“Oh hey,” the guy says, sounding excited, “it’s you.”
That does make Keonho look up. Look up and almost have an aneurysm. It’s the guy from The Fix. The cute guy from The Fix. The cute guy from The Fix Keonho drenched in coffee. The cute guy from The Fix Keonho drenched in coffee and then offered a damn cookie.
“Oh, uh, hey,” he says, feeling about as clever as he sounds, but Coffee Disaster Guy just smiles that open smile again, the one Keonho finds a little irresistible and a lot disconcerting.
“Sorry I had to run off like that last time,” the guy says around a mouthful of what looks to be a meatball sub - like he had done something rude the other day, like Keonho hadn’t ruined his jacket, “but I was already late for class.”
“It’s, uh, it’s okay,” Keonho says dumbly. He’s such an idiot.
The guy doesn’t seem to care, though. Just says, “I’m an engineering major,” before he stuffs his mouth with fries slathered in ketchup. “What’s your major?”
“Maths,” Keonho says. The guy’s in engineering, so Keonho hopes that there won’t be the awkward Oh God, I always hated maths in high school exchange that usually follows this revelation along with the knowledge that the other person now thinks Keonho’s boring and a brainiac.
“That’s cool,” Coffee Disaster Guy says and takes another huge bite.
Keonho doesn’t know what to reply, so he goes back to his notes. It doesn’t take him all that long to realize that he’s possibly coming across as a dick, though, so he looks up again. “I- I could still pay for your dry-cleaning, you know,” he says. “Just in case you changed your mind.”
The guy gives him another brilliant smile. “That’s nice of you, thanks, but I got most of the stains out, and my roommate says what’s still there makes it look vintage. I’m not sure what that means, but he said it like it’s a good thing.”
“If you’re sure.” Keonho shrugs half-heartedly and then takes a look at his watch. “Oh hey,” he says, “my class is about to start,” and begins packing up his stuff.
“Sure,” the guy says easily, giving Keonho another smile before eying his tray. There’s an empty cup of soda, some balled-up napkins and stray fries and a foil-wrapped peanut butter cookie he bought as a snack for his class later. Keonho looks at the guy’s own tray, which is all but licked clean.
He doesn’t know what makes him do it, but he picks up the cookie and says, “You want this? I’m not hungry anymore.”
Somehow, the grin on the guy’s face isn’t even a little bit mocking. “Now that you mention it – I could eat,” he says. “But then again,” he pats his belly in an exaggerated way, “I can always eat.”
Keonho hands him the cookie and for a moment, their fingertips touch.
“Bye,” Keonho says, his voice coming out a little faint and a little rough.
“See you later,” the guy replies brightly, looking at Keonho even as he starts unwrapping the foil.
The third time they meet is by chance.
Leonard Nimoy is going to give a lecture at their university about his career in Hollywood – and like any self-respecting geek, Keonho really wants to go.
The good news is that student tickets are free. The bad news is that there are way too many geeks in this town apparently, so the student government decided to give the available tickets away in a raffle. Which means that Keonho has to stand around in an overheated lecture hall on a Saturday morning, a square piece of paper with a pencil sketch of Mister Spock on the one side and the number 127 on the other safely tucked away in his wallet. That the student government people have “some issues” they have to straighten out and make everyone wait doesn’t exactly help his mood. He’s not a morning person anyway.
At least his roommate, Martin, who’s an even bigger Star Trek fan than Keonho, is with him. And okay, so maybe being a bigger Star Trek fan than Keonho isn’t that hard. He’s still not sure about the difference between Trekkies and Trekkers, after all, and while he does love Spock, he loves Han Solo more.
Just when Martin left to get some soda from the vending machine a building over, a dark-haired guy with bright blue eyes comes to stand in front of Keonho.
“A wonderful morning, isn’t it?” he says, Keonho notices the big wicker basket in the guy’s right hand. “You look like you could use a cookie,” says Blue Eyes and hands him one that looks a lot like the old Enterprise. Keonho’s eyes go wide.
“You know what,” the guy grins and hands Keonho another cookie, this time shaped like Spock’s live long and prosper hand, “take two.”
“Thanks,” Keonho gets out. Did he just miss something? Why is a stranger giving him food? Does the strangers with candy rule his parents drilled into him still apply? He guesses not. “How much do I owe you?” he asks, because that’s the only thing he can come up with.
The guy makes a dismissive hand gesture, but keeps smiling. “Nothing, dude. I’m paying it forward, spreading the joy through random acts.”
“Oh, I see.” In Keonho’s opinion it’s a little early in the day for this hippie hocus-pocus, but he just got two free cookies out of it, so he manages a, “Thanks again,” and even a smile.
“May the Force be with you,” Blue Eyes says serenely, and it makes Keonho chuckle.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder. “Great line, wrong franchise,” a voice next to Keonho says. A voice that’s familiar, though he’s only heard it twice.
“I knew it was you,” Coffee Disaster Guy says, way too gleeful and awake for this time of morning. “Where cookies there are, never far you be,” he intones earnestly and Keonho has to smile almost in spite of himself.
“What’s your name, by the way,” the guy asks, smiling that smile again. “I don’t want to keep calling you Cookie Man in my head.”
“Keonho,” he says, “my name is Keonho,” and holds out his hand like the tool that he is. At least it’s the one without cookies in it.
“Seonghyeon,” Coffee Disaster Guy says and wraps a hand around Keonho’s, shaking it firmly and with enthusiasm and maybe a little long. “Great to meet you again.”
His smile seems so genuine that it immediately puts Keonho at ease, enough to crack a joke of his own. “Yeah, yeah,” he says in a slightly grumpy tone that comes harder to him than it should on a Saturday before noon, “you just want another cookie.”
“Guilty as charged,” Seonghyeon replies blithely.
“So which one do you want?” Keonho asks, holding up one cookie in each hand.
“He gave you two?” Seonghyeon asks, clearly shocked. “I begged him for another one earlier, but he wouldn’t budge.”
“That’s probably cause you seem so hyper.” Keonho gives a half-shrug. “He probably thought I looked like I badly needed the extra sugar.”
“Or he was coming on to you,” Seonghyeon offers.
“Yeah,” Keonho deadpans, even as he rolls his eyes, “or that.”
He waves the cookies in front of Seonghyeon’s face. “So what’s it gonna be: intact starship or disembodied hand?”
The fourth time they meet is on purpose.
After Seonghyeon hits it off not only with Keonho, but with Martin too, he invites them both over to his off-campus apartment and his roommate’s flat screen TV for a Star Trek: The Original Series marathon. According to Seonghyeon, watching the best (and most bizarre) episodes is the only appropriate preparation for the Nimoy lecture. Keonho can’t disagree.
When he asks if they should bring anything, Seonghyeon laughs and says that Martin’ Blu-ray box of the series is more than enough, but still Keonho can’t resist buying a box of Girl Scout Cookies for the occasion.
“Look what I got you,” Keonho says and proudly holds up the box when Seonghyeon opens the door.
Seonghyeon’s big, boisterous laugh when Keonho waves the Samoas in his face is worth it alone.
By the time the cookies are gone, Keonho already feels like they’re old friends, which is weird. He usually has a hard time warming up to people, but not with Seonghyeon – although they seem so different on the surface. Keonho is pretty much a classic science geek while Seonghyeon may study engineering, but is also in a theater group and a cooking class. Still, they slot right in with each other. They watch the same movies, laugh at the same jokes. That the chilli Seonghyeon made is almost as good as that of Keonho’s mom also helps.
They just started the third episode – and man, do those Blu-rays look fine on that big-ass TV when Martin gets a call from his boyfriend. “Shit, shit, shit,” he says, diving for the remote and hitting the pause button before he answers.
“Hey baby,” he says, an apology already in his voice, “I’m sorry, I didn’t forget, just got held up a little. I’ll be over in twenty.” He nods as if he was able to see him and says fondly, “Yeah, you, too. Bye.”
“Sorry guys,” Martin says, still looking contrite as he turns to face them. “I completely forgot that Juhoon and I already made plans. You guys just go ahead, keep watching.” He nods at Keonho. “You just make sure to not scratch the discs and bring them all back tonight, right?”
Keonho nods solemnly. “Sure thing.”
He should probably feel guilty, but spending some time alone with Seonghyeon sounds pretty good to him.
The eighty-eighth time they meet is when Keonho has a plan.
They’ve been friends for over half a year now, and it’s been pretty great. So great that now, with Martin and Juhoon apartment hunting together and Seonghyeon’s roommate being accepted to a master’s program on the West coast, Seonghyeon asked Keonho to move in when James leaves in a couple of months.
It sounds great in theory. There’s only one problem.
Keonho’s not sure living together when he can’t seem to get over this big crush on Seonghyeon is really the best idea.
Of course, part of him thinks that it would be the perfect opportunity, that living together will make Seonghyeon realize how they could be good together as more than friends.
The more rational part of his brain, however, is a little terrified. Strangely enough, he’s not worried that they won’t get along, he’s just afraid that Seonghyeon will find out and not like him back and still try to be nice about it and then it would be awkward and Keonho would have to hide out in the library and only come home to shower and change when he knows Seonghyeon’s in class and find a new place to live in the middle of semester and his grades would go down and his parents would be mad and it would all be a big, fat mess. And okay, so maybe it’s not really the rational part of his brain talking, but the paranoid one.
Either way, Keonho decides that he has to tell Seonghyeon before James moves out. He can’t take that chance.
Unfortunately, being friends actually makes it a lot harder to ask Seonghyeon out. Keonho tries more than once (even before Seonghyeon asks him to move in), but somehow it always comes out as if he just wants to hang out like they always do.
The thing is that Keonho’s had exactly one relationship, and that was only because he came straight out and said, “I’m gay and I think you might be, too. I like you. I think we should go on a date.”
So Keonho has pretty much zero game.
And Seonghyeon is this enthusiastic guy who likes cookies and grand gestures. He’s the guy who gives standing ovations in a movie theater, who paints his face in team colors even when they’re only watching the game at a campus bar. Keonho’s point is that Seonghyeon likes to go all out, and that Keonho should probably go all out, too, if he wants them to date. Or as all out as he can.
Which is how he finds himself covered in flour, bits of dough in his hair and running out of time with Seonghyeon about to come over.
He maybe should have thought this through more, Keonho thinks just as the oven timer dings.
After he manages to not drop the cookie sheet when he puts it on the worktop to cool, he takes a deep breath.
He still has some time, he tells himself. Seonghyeon might be a little late. This can all still work out if he just stays calm.
The doorbell rings. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Keonho mutters, practically slapping himself as he tries to rub the worst of the flour-and-dough mixture off his face.
When he opens the door, it’s Seonghyeon. Of course it would be. “Sorry,” Seonghyeon says, a little out of breath from running up the stairs like he always does, “but the lecture went way over, so I didn’t go home before coming here.” He cocks his head, his eyes widening and a disbelieving smile on his face. “Is that flour?” he asks and tousles Keonho’s hair a little. “Do I smell cake?” The smile grows broader and his eyes twinkle. “Keonho, are you baking?”
“I- Yeah,” Keonho mumbles, “it’s cookies, actually.” This is so not going according to plan.
“Dude, that’s amazing,” Seonghyeon coos as he shoulders his way in. “I didn’t know you could bake. I think you just became my favorite person in the entire world.”
Keonho has to smile, even though Seonghyeon just ruined his grand gesture and probably doesn’t mean what he just said in the way Keonho wants him to mean it. Maybe Keonho should just try and let this go. Real friends are hard to find. Why mess with a good thing?
Seonghyeon’s already in the kitchen or the battlefield that used to be the kitchen and grabs one of the first batch of cookies Keonho made earlier, happily munching away. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he says, lightly punching Keonho’s arm. “These are real good.” Seonghyeon shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth to make his point.
“Thanks,” Keonho says and ducks his head, feeling himself flush. “I thought I’d give it a try.”
“So that’s your first time?” Seonghyeon says, incredulous. “Man, you have serious talent. I would pay for these.” He holds up another cookie before he takes a bite.
Keonho doesn’t think this is the time to mention the first two batches that looked pretty bad and didn’t taste much better and how he caved and finally called his mom instead of relying on advice he found on the internet. He’s just happy that these came out pretty well.
“You know what?” Seonghyeon says after he stuffs his mouth with a third cookie. “How about you go take a shower,” he waves a hand at Keonho, who’s still dusted in flour, “and I do the clean-up.”
“No,” Keonho says, unable to help the slight note of panic in his voice. This is so not how this was supposed to go. “That’s okay. You just go get the movie started. I’ll be right out.”
Seonghyeon rolls his eyes. “Come on, keon, let me do this for you,” he says and puts both of his pretty warm hands on Keonho’s shoulders to turn him around and manoeuvre him out of the kitchen.
A minute later, Keonho hears the fridge door open and then a surprised, “Wait, what?” from Seonghyeon. “Keonho,” he shouts, “did you make those Star Trek cookies, too?”
Keonho trots back into the kitchen. He’d better get this over with. “Maybe?”
“And these are macadamia chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies, right?” Seonghyeon says, pointing at the two batches on the counter.
Keonho just nods.
“And if I open the cabinet, will there be Samoas?” Seonghyeon asks him with an of course there will be look on his face.
“Possibly.” Keonho’s so tense suddenly, fidgety and unsure. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even dare look Seonghyeon in the eye.
When Seonghyeon is coming over, getting right up into Keonho’s space.
For once, Seonghyeon looks serious, earnest, and when he speaks, his voice is softer and lower than Keonho’s used to. “What does this mean?” he asks with a note of hesitation that’s completely out of character for him.
And Keonho thinks about lying, thinks about making it into a joke or a prank or whatever, but then he thinks, Fuck it.
He takes a breath, swallows, and says, “I wanted to make cookies for you, the things helped us become friends. And I wanted to write the dates on the plates with frosting to show you that I remember them.” Seonghyeon should know that’s a big deal because Keonho might be great with numbers and calculations, but he’s horrible with dates. That’s why his mobile’s reminder function has made his life so much better.
Seonghyeon nods slightly, front teeth digging into his lower lip.
“And I remember them because they’re important to me.” Keonho says the next words real fast before he can change his mind “Because you’re important to me, and I like you, and I don’t want to move in with you if we’re just going to be friends because I don’t think that would be enough for me.”
Suddenly, Seonghyeon’s palms close around Keonho’s jaw and he pulls Keonho in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and then another one and another one. The kisses taste like chocolate and peanut butter, but somehow Keonho doubts that’s why he can’t get enough.
Before long, their kisses turn from soft to exploring, Keonho sucking on Seonghyeon’s bottom lip, slipping out his tongue, licking into Seonghyeon’s mouth, his hands resting on Seonghyeon’s waist like they belong there.
When Keonho finally pulls back enough to make eye contact, there’s not even a trace of any flavor that’s not them left in their mouths, he’s sure.
What is there, however, is a grin on Keonho’s face that feels fond and maybe a little stupid and like it must be the mirror image of the one on Seonghyeon’s face. Keonho slowly raises his hand, sliding it along Seonghyeon’s body, just so he can touch Seonghyeon’s face, trace the dimples in his cheek and the shape of his mouth with his fingertip.
Seonghyeon leans in to the touch and says in a low, smile-tinged voice, “For the record, you could have gotten this a long time ago.”
For some reason, that makes Keonho laugh, his hand on Seonghyeon’s hip not letting go as he does. “But then,” he says through a chuckle, “there wouldn’t be homemade cookies.”
Seonghyeon just shakes his head and smiles before he dives in for another kiss.