Work Text:
Chan has people in his apartment when Jisung lets himself in with the spare key he isn’t meant to have.
The first guy that sees him smiles uncertainly, pretty and dressed well. Nice suit, starched, dusty office vibes. Jisung tries to toe off his sneakers without stumbling but only half manages, catching himself on one of Chan’s Nike jackets, hanging by the door and hiding his older, less respectable jackets.
The guy is still looking at Jisung. “Chan,” he calls, “Were you expecting anyone else?”
“No?” Chan replies, out of sight and sweetly confused. “Why, did Kevin change his mind?” He rounds the corner and catches sight of Jisung. The hostess with the mostess mask slips, just for a second. His crumpled suit looks divine. “What’re you doing here?”
A beautiful woman slings an arm over Chan’s shoulder and peers at Jisung curiously, eyes hovering over his chest for longer than strictly necessary. “Who’s this, Chan?”
Jisung shakes his head and bites back a wince of nausea, playing it off as chagrin. This is his target. “That hurts, Channie. You don’t spend all day at work talking about me?”
Chan opens his mouth, but before he can answer Jisung presses forward and smears a chaste kiss across his cheek before turning on the woman with his sunniest smile. “Han Jisung, Chan’s partner. It’s lovely to meet you. Are you Katie?”
“I am Katie! I’m so happy that even if Chan keeps his private life secret he still tells you about us. Ah, come on, you have to introduce yourself since Chan won’t do it for you!” She grins at Jisung, surprisingly delighted and so obviously drunk. Katie removes herself from Chan to link Jisung’s arm through hers and pulls him into the lounge, where the other guests are sat around in various states of office casual, tipsy and loose. Chan stays wooden by the door, by his Nike jacket and Jisung’s abandoned muddy sneakers. “This is Jisung, everyone! He’s Chan’s boyfriend!”
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As the night continues Jisung starts to sober up. Everyone else gets progressively drunker. Chan sits at the edge of his couch, a stiff smile on his face. He’s done something to his eyebrows since Jisung last saw him – they’re slimmer, which is a shame, but sharper. His hair is dark again, long and slicked back. He looks every bit the professional twenty-eight-year-old, if not for the death grip on his wine glass.
His work friends are nice in an overfamiliar, undersocialised way. Trauma bonded by office life and deadlines, Jisung can only assume. They take to him well, and they love the childhood stories.
“Did his mom tell you this?” Katie squeals after one especially embarrassing tale about Chan falling into a river face first, running from a furious goose.
Jisung shakes his head and sips his beer. “No,” he says, “We grew up together. I was there.”
“Sweet,” Josh croons, slumping against Chan. “Childhood sweethearts?”
Chan’s smile twists, just slightly. “Something like that.”
"How long?"
"He kissed me two weeks before my twentieth birthday," Jisung says with a stretch and a grin. "Lucky me."
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Changbin calls after eleven and Jisung excuses himself to the bathroom to answer. His spare toothbrush is still in the cup beside Chan’s, which is funny for some reason unknown to himself. “Yeah?”
“Where the fuck did you go? Hyunjin is losing his shit.”
Jisung looks at himself in the mirror and wonders what Hyunjin would say if he could see him. Something cutting about the state of Jisung’s mused hair, something only slightly kinder about the smeared eyeliner. Something judgemental but full of approval at his oversized jeans and skintight shirt. He’d escaped the bar out of the fire exit, and he looks like it – hotter than Chan’s friends. Messier, but only for now. The ties were loosening; shoes were being thrown. Someone had turned charades into truth or dare; Aaron and Laura were doing a terrible job of pretending they weren’t fucking; everyone had kept silent as Aaron took a call from his girlfriend and lied about overtime.
“I’m at Chan’s,” Jisung says eventually.
“Shit, really? You didn’t tell me you’d made up.”
“We haven’t yet. We’re working on it.”
“I mean, that’s good news, just warn me before you leave next time, okay?”
“Sure,” Jisung replies, then makes kissy noises until Changbin hangs up.
He returns to the lounge to see Aaron and Katie kissing, Laura almost as stiff as Chan.
“I’m gonna grab another beer,” Jisung announces. “Does anyone want another drink?”
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With everyone busy, Chan follows Jisung through to the kitchen and corners him between the window and the sink. “What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, a vein in his neck throbbing, his sharp brows furrowed.
Jisung kisses him.
Chan shoves him against the counter hard enough to bruise his hips and kisses Jisung so hard that he’s sure his lips will bruise too.
“Missed you,” Jisung murmurs between their mouths, only to be cut off by Chan’s tongue, his long fingers digging their way up his shirt, across his back. Someone in the lounge laughs obnoxiously enough to disturb the neighbours, but not Chan. Not Jisung. They kiss until Jisung tastes like Chan’s wine as much as his own beer, until his mouth is bruised and slick, stamped with Chan’s brand like fucking cattle.
“What are you doing?” Chan repeats, closer this time, mouth to mouth. His hands are just as greedy, and Jisung is still thinking about cattle.
“You should dress as a cowboy for Halloween this year.” Jisung grabs two handfuls of Chan’s ass and squeezes. “Do us all a favour. Katie might faint if you wear chaps to the office, but it sounds like they need new drama anyway. That affair is losing interest.”
“You need to go home, Jisung,” Chan says, kissing him again, tongue into his mouth, a man with terminal dehydration shoving his head beneath the surface of a lake. He’s half hard against Jisung’s thigh. “This is – this is serious, I’m networking-”
“You’re getting drunk with your colleagues and your boyfriend,” Jisung says. He kisses Chan once more, too wet, before ducking under his arm and grabbing their abandoned drinks. “What’s not to enjoy, baby?”
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Jisung joins truth or dare.
“If you choose dare I’m going to ask you to give Chan a lap dance for my own amusement,” Laura slurs, pointing a wobbly finger. “Just a warning.”
Jisung chooses truth to play coy, and Chan acts like he’d rather be anywhere else, squeezed back onto the edge of his fancy couch as if they can’t see his lips are scraped up from Jisung’s stubble.
“The weirdest place you’ve had sex?” Katie asks before anyone else jumps in.
Jisung laughs at the predictability. “Beach.”
“With Chan?”
“That’s two truths, isn’t it?”
“Aaron, donate your turn to Jisung,” Katie demands.
Aaron raises both hands in surrender, Chan spluttering weakly in the background.
“Jisung, truth or dare?” Katie continues.
“Truth,” Jisung says indulgently.
“Did you fuck Chan on a beach?”
“Sure did.”
Jisung was in his second year of college at the time, and Chan was a couple of months past his graduation. They’d taken a weekend away with their friends, one last hurrah before Chan’s terminal employment began, and with nothing but some low-lying rocks between them and the campfire and their drunk, sleepy friends, Chan had fucked Jisung raw like it was their last goodbye, like they’d never see each other again. Jisung had stared at the rocks and listened to the sound of their skin slapping, barely audible over the waves. He’d wondered if there were ammonite fossils in the stone, or the cliffs behind them. He’d wondered if Chan wished he could get Jisung pregnant. He’d wondered how long they’d last before they fell together again, as inevitable as fate. He’d been too depressed and wasted to enjoy the moment properly, but so had Chan.
Katie squeals and launches herself backwards. “That’s so romantic.”
“Not really,” Chan says tightly. “The sand is – and it’s cold, colder than you’d think.”
“Only because it was night,” Jisung says.
“Sand doesn’t disappear at night.”
“I meant the-” Jisung cuts himself off and rolls his eyes dramatically. He’s enjoying this more than he ever thought possible. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“How long have you been together?” Aaron asks, suddenly close to lucid. He peers at Chan, sharper than Jisung expects. “You’ve seriously never mentioned him. I’d be pissed if I were Jisung.”
Jisung laughs at that. He wants to ask how often Aaron talks about his girlfriend but sits back instead, sipping his beer and waiting for Chan’s reply.
“I’m protective,” Chan says, finally committing to playing along. “I’ve always felt that what we have is just for us.”
“I’m your dirty little secret, huh?” Jisung goads, just to grin when Chan glares.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Aaron asked Jisung, a small frown between his brows. “Really, I mean? You’ve been together – or been close, at least, since you were kids. I’ve worked with Chan for three years, and this is the first time I’ve heard of you.”
It isn’t the first time, but Jisung can’t say that. The stories at the office Chan has no doubt told, everyone but himself remaining nameless. My dad, my cousin, my friends, my girlfriend, my boyfriend, my ex, my brother.
“No,” Jisung hears himself say, “No, it doesn’t bother me.”
Protective is the right word for Chan. Even now, at the age of twenty-five, Jisung thinks back wistfully on their childhood together, before Chan was forced to switch schools. Awkward and mouthy, Jisung had gotten himself into trouble far too many times, but Chan was the one to get him out of it every time. Jisung sips his beer and looks at Chan, finds himself already being watched. He wonders if Chan is thinking of the same memory, outside of their high school, the tooth of one of Jisung’s bullies lodged in his knuckle, blood halfway up his arms.
The conversation of Chan’s colleagues continues between them, but Jisung keeps his eyes on Chan. ‘I love you,’ he mouths.
Chan’s mouth twists, but his eyes are soft. He doesn’t look away. ‘I love you too,’ he mouths back, like there was ever any doubt.
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The colleagues start leaving around midnight, tumbling into their Ubers as Chan waves them off, Jisung draped over his back and nipping hungrily at his neck. He’s half hard; Chan must be able to feel it against his ass.
“Bring Jisung to the next night out!” Katie demands, climbing into her idling Uber.
Chan just laughs and keeps waving until everyone is out of sight.
When they’re alone on the street Chan turns to Jisung, who half expects a fight, but Chan’s eyes are still soft. He cups Jisung’s cheek and sighs deeply, rubbing his thumb over Jisung’s bottom lip. “Asshole,” he says gently.
Jisung purses his lips to kiss the pad of Chan’s thumb. “I was really rude when we last spoke, and I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry for that and not this?”
Jisung stares at him, equal in height, and remembers being five and staring up at a glowering eight-year-old that wanted nothing to do with him. He hopes Chan doesn’t ask for specific apologies, because Jisung can’t remember what they fought about. He was probably too pushy about something, or selfish about where Chan turned his attention. All that matters now is that they haven’t spoken in over a month, but Chan kissed him a couple of hours ago. Silent apologies were forgiven well before Jisung had actually voiced them. “You had fun. Your coworkers love me almost as much as you do.”
Chan doesn’t argue. “Are you staying tonight?”
“Will you let me?”
The kiss pressed to Jisung’s mouth is light and careful, the night air settling around them like a cool shroud. “What wouldn’t I let you do?”
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When there’s a knock at the door, they’ve both changed into sweatpants. Chan is on the couch with his head thrown back, and Jisung is between his legs, lapping at the base of Chan’s cock, feeling more drunk than when he was throwing back shots. He’d stay here forever if he could, with Chan’s hand so tight in his hair he’s half convinced he’ll have a bald spot, Chan trying so hard to tamper down his moans that he whimpers on every exhale, hips twitching with each breath.
Jisung swallows Chan’s cock as far as he can without gagging, then forces himself down further just to enjoy the way his throat spasms, spit leaking around his teeth and into Chan’s trimmed pubes. He’s perfect, he’s always so perfect.
“Need you,” Chan moans, hand tugging harder on Jisung’s hair until his head rises, until they’re making unsteady eye contact with blown pupils and spit-smeared faces, “Come here, baby, I need to fuck you-”
The knock at the door is as loud as a gunshot, and they both jump.
“Chan? Is Jisung here?”
“Bathroom,” Chan hisses, shooting to his feet and pulling his sweatpants up, eyes manic, face grey. “Bathroom, get in the fucking bathroom.”
Jisung runs, the bathroom door slamming shut behind him. He locks it out of instinct, heart pounding, hands shaking as he looks at his debauched face in the mirror. He has eyeliner down his face, precum down his neck. He runs hot water until the mirror starts to steam, and through the panic in his head he can hear Chan’s forced cheer.
“He’s just brushing his teeth, yeah, what – is there a problem? Did he do something?”
Changbin’s reply, dry and too loud for the time of night. He’s drunk then, hopefully too drunk to notice the state Chan is in. “Jisung said he was here, then didn’t answer me. It’s been three fucking hours, and you know what he’s like. I just wanted to check before I went home, to make sure he’s safe.”
“He’s safe,” Chan says. “He’s here.”
Jisung scrubs his face with the hot water, then dries himself off on Chan’s hand towel. His face cream smells of bergamot and cloves, and Jisung lathers it between his hands before rubbing it on his face and down his neck, hoping it excuses the state of his puffy skin and his furious blush.
When he forces himself out of the bathroom Chan and Changbin have moved to the kitchen, and Chan’s coffee machine is grinding beans at a volume that drowns out their conversation and Jisung’s approach.
Chan’s sweatpants are dark enough that the wet patch doesn’t show, his shirt long enough to cover up whether he’s still hard or not. He nods along as Changbin speaks, making three coffees as easy as blinking, total reflex.
“- you’ve made up, you know he’s a mess without you, even now,” Changbin says. He startles when Jisung pokes him in the back, but his eyes are full of relief rather than frustration. “Hey,” he says gently, and combs his hand through the hair that only minutes ago Chan had been yanking. “Glad you’re safe, but answer my text next time.”
“I was meeting Chan’s work friends. They love me.”
“Sure they do.” Changbin winks to soften the sarcasm. “You’re a fucking mess. Did you try to swim in the sink?”
“Was trying to sober up.”
“Are you staying?” Chan interrupts.
Jisung opens his mouth to reply again, only realising at the last second that he isn’t being spoken to.
“Sure, if you don’t mind. It’ll be like old times. Your couch is almost as uncomfortable as your dad’s, from what I can remember, so I’ll need an extra pillow if you have one.”
“If Changbin’s on the couch, where will I sleep?” Jisung asks tightly, rejection rising up in his stomach. Is this it? The punishment he was waiting for? Turned away at the last minute for Changbin, Chan’s best friend, Jisung’s best friend?
“You’ll have to stay with me,” Chan says, making direct, blank eye contact. “Sorry.”
Changbin pokes Jisung in the side with a laugh. “Sleepover with your big bro, hey? It really will be like old times.”
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Jisung goes into Chan’s bedroom first. He’s used to being spoken about and leaves the door open a crack as he changes into sleep shorts and a fresh shirt, knowing that Chan won’t be happy if he climbs into bed in dirtied sweatpants, even if it’s just their dirt. He sips his coffee and can still feel Chan’s cock at the back of his throat. A photo of them as teenagers stares at him from the top of Chan’s dresser. Jisung with skinned knees sat on Chan’s shoulders, grinning as wide as the sky.
“Your friends really liked him?”
“No need to sound surprised. What’s not to like?”
“Shut up, dude, you know that’s not what I meant. Jisung interrupting your party any other time wouldn’t matter, but you were going to pull a move. Did that girl confess? What’s her name…”
“Katie.” Chan clears his throat. “Yeah, she was going to, I think, but Jisung’s arrival distracted her.”
“What a bummer. Sorry.”
“No, no,” Chan objects weakly. “She loved him, more than me I think – that was probably his plan.”
Changbin laughs. “Yeah, probably. He doesn’t like sharing you.”
Even Jisung smiles. He combs his hair with Chan’s brush. He’s slept with Chan’s girlfriends before, licked the taste of Chan from between their legs. Katie is pretty, and Chan had sounded fond of her when they last spoke. She doesn’t want him now, but there’ll always be another one. A sweet girl or a presumptive boy that thinks they can come first in Chan’s life.
“What do you think would have happened?” Changbin asks, quieter this time. Jisung tiptoes to the cracked open door and watches the back of their heads as they murmur. “I know you love him, but you’re so fucking entwined. If you hadn’t moved in with your dad, do you think you’d still be-“
“My mom couldn’t take care of me anymore, Bin. There wasn’t a choice, there was no other alternative. Besides –” Chan stretched over the back of the couch, tilting his head back far enough to make eye contact with Jisung through the sliver or doorway, “–Whether we met or not, he’ll always be my baby brother.”
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Chan shoves his sweatpants along the bottom of his bedroom door and fucks Jisung with his hand clamped over Jisung’s mouth, his white noise machine almost deafening in an attempt to keep Changbin asleep in the living room.
Jisung wraps his hands around Chan’s arm and squeezes his eyes shut, weighed down and breathless, so full of tingling pleasure that he’s unaware if he’s making any kind of noise at all. Chan’s lips are against his ear, his breath quick, hot, and heavy. He comes with a quiet groan and rolls of Jisung quickly, reaching for a fleshlight and extra lube.
Wet between the thighs and pulsing with need, Jisung rolls onto his back and spreads his legs again, letting Chan settle between them in the stifling dark.
“Want me to take care of you?” Chan croons, barely audible.
“Please,” Jisung whispers, reaching for him.
Chan is kissing him almost before he finishes the word.
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Jisung wakes with a hangover to the sound of cooking and laughter. It’s Hyunjin that throws open the bedroom door and opens the blinds, causing Jisung to groan and curl into a tiny ball. “Get up, Chan’s almost finished cooking. It’s fucking cold in here, did you guys seriously sleep with the window open? I can smell the bagel spot from here.”
Jisung curls up tighter. “Leave me alone.”
Hyunjin throws a pair of sweatpants at his head. “Get up. Everyone is coming over, we’re having a movie day. We’ve had enough of you hogging Chan.”
“I haven’t seen him in a month!”
“You saw him last night. Did you meet that girl he likes?”
Jisung pressed his face into the sheets and let himself smile. “I met her, but he doesn’t like her.”
“Yeah?” Hyunjin asks, open with his curiosity. “How’d you know?”
“He barely looked at her.”
Hyunjin snorted. “If you were there he was busy making sure you weren’t getting into trouble, so that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Jisung?” Chan calls loudly, all the way from the kitchen. “Come on kid, I made you coffee.”
“Come on, kid,” Hyunjin teases, tugging at the sheet. “Your breakfast awaits.”
Jisung waits until the room is empty again before sitting up and stretching. He’s still naked from the waist down, sticky with lube and crusty with cum. He shimmies into Chan’s sweatpants and wanders through to find all of their friends in the living room laughing at a home video from their early years, friends of seventeen to twenty, plus some others that didn’t last as long as their core group.
Jisung is wearing Chan’s jacket in the clip, his hair a bright dyed orange.
“You’re still stealing his clothes,” Seungmin says dryly. “Nothing ever changes.”
“Why should it?” Jisung asks. Chan walks through with his coffee and ruffles Jisung’s gross hair. “I like things exactly the way they are.”