永遠色の恋

“Sorry,” he says, smiling for effect. “Just spaced out for a second. Let’s run through the next few shots, okay?”

Jongin eyes him for a moment, clearly not convinced, and Sehun might get a barrage of questions later because Jongin is that kind of friend, but for now he nods and gets up on set and Sehun pushes aside the prickling unease and focuses on the camera in his hands.

He doesn’t get to check his messages until they’ve wrapped up, nearly an hour later after he and Jongin check through the photos on the computer and Jongin is shuffled away by his manager, leaving Sehun with an, “I’ll call you!” and a cheerful wave. It’s been awhile since they’ve met up outside of work, so Sehun hopes Jongin will get a chance to hang out for lunch or something, but he doesn’t think about that too much for now. As the rest of the crew packs up, Sehun grabs his phone and ducks away into the hall. There’s just one text message from Junmyeon, telling Sehun to call him back when he has the chance, and that unsettling feeling in his gut his back as Sehun dials the number and listens to the ringing in his ear.

“Hyung?” he says, the second the line connects. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Don’t sound so alarmed, Sehunnie,” Junmyeon says. He sounds a little exasperated, but mostly tired. “Zitao’s fine, really, he just had a bit of an accident during a shoot.”

“What <i>happened</i>?” Sehun hisses, gripping his phone tighter in his hand.

“He fractured his ankle,” Junmyeon says and Sehun swears he feels his heart stop for a moment before it slams back into motion again, beating louder than before. “It’s nothing too serious, though,” Junmyeon adds hastily, before Sehun even has the chance to speak. “The doctor said he wouldn’t need surgery at all, just that he needs to rest and wear a cast for about two months.”

“Zitao is going to <i>hate</i> that,” Sehun breathes and Junmyeon chuckles.

“He’s already complaining.”

“But he...he’s okay, otherwise, right?”

“Just fine,” Junmyeon says firmly and Sehun sighs in relief, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “I just brought him back to his apartment, and he’s been whining to talk to you.”

“Tell him he’s an idiot from me,” Sehun huffs, then adds after a moment, “I finished up my last schedule. Has he eaten anything? I can pick something up on my way over.”

“I think he’d like that,” Junmyeon says. “I’ll stick around until you get here.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Sehun says before he hangs up. He lets out a long, deep sigh and rubs his face with his hands, feeling partly relieved it’s nothing serious and partly annoyed that Zitao managed to injure himself while working <i>again</i>.

Sehun tucks his phone into his pocket and goes back to help clean up, packing away his camera and laptop and dismissing the rest of the staff. He’s so glad he’s done for the day so he can go see Zitao now instead of later, he would’ve only been more distracted if he’d known what happened and couldn’t go see that he was truly all right with his own eyes.

He picks up some chicken on the way over to Zitao’s apartment and fights back a few yawns as exhaustion finally starts to fill his bones. It’s been a long day of shooting, even if Sehun’s finished earlier than usual, and he thinks climbing into bed next to Zitao sounds like a good idea right about now. Junmyeon answers the door when Sehun comes up, looking a little frazzled but smiling at Sehun all the same.

“Thank god you’re here,” he says, stepping aside to let Sehun through. “I don’t know if it’s the pain meds they gave him, but he’s been more of a brat than usual.”

Sehun laughs, slipping out of his shoes and heading to the kitchen to set the takeout away. “That bad, huh?” he says. “How long has it been?”

“Barely five hours,” Junmyeon replies, shaking his head. He’s still smiling though, a little fond, and Sehun knows he’s worried. Junmyeon probably had a minor heart attack when it happened. “Maybe he’ll calm down now that you’re here.”

“I hope so,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon gestures down the hall towards Zitao’s room, so Sehun thanks him and goes to find his boyfriend.

Zitao’s face lights up the second Sehun walks into the room, smiling brightly and reaching out his arms for Sehun. “Finally,” he says, a whiney tone to his voice that makes Sehun roll his eyes. “Sehun-ah.” He makes clawing motions towards him, but Sehun ignores it in favor of walking towards the end of the bed, where Zitao’s got his left foot in a cast and elevated on a bunch of pillows.

“You complete idiot,” Sehun says, frowning at his injury. Zitao deflates instantly at that, arms dropping and pout forming on his face and Sehun tries not to give into that as quickly as usual. He’s not mad, really. Just worried. Zitao can be so reckless sometimes, and it ends up in him getting hurt like this, and Sehun hates seeing him in pain. “What were you even <i>doing</i>?”

“Ahh,” Zitao whines, running a hand through his hair. “It’s embarrassing. I just...tripped. Can we go with that?”

Sehun crosses his arms over his chest and stares at him and Zitao stares back, still pouting, looking pathetic enough that Sehun is finding it harder and harder to not climb over to him and give him a kiss.

“I’m in pain,” Zitao adds, hopefully, “It hurts <i>so much</i>, Sehunnie. And the meds are making me loopy. And I’ve been waiting to see you all day.” He’s always been good at sounding pitiful. “Will you come here and cuddle with me? Make me feel better.”

Sehun bites his lower lip to keep from laughing, but Zitao can tell. He can always tell. A grin spreads across his face and he reaches an arm out again, says, “I’m sorry for making you worry,” and Sehun really can’t say no to that. He sighs, dropping his arms, and walks around the bed, carefully edging up onto the mattress so he doesn’t disrupt Zitao’s leg, and lets Zitao pull him into a kiss.

“Please, please, be more careful,” Sehun mumbles into his mouth, clutching at Zitao’s arm tightly, like he needs the confirmation that he’s really here, really okay. He knows Zitao’s injury isn’t that awful in the grand scheme of things, but still, Sehun worries. It is a relief, however, to see that despite what happened, Zitao is still Zitao.

“That’s easier said than done for him, isn’t it?” Junmyeon says, and Sehun pulls back just enough to laugh, glancing over to where Junmyeon is leaning against the doorframe. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

Zitao wraps an arm around Sehun’s waist and pulls him close. “Got everything I need right here,” he says, and Sehun groans, mouthing out a <i>save me</i> to Junmyeon. Zitao notices and pinches Sehun’s nipple through his shirt until he squawks and rolls off the bed to get away. At least Zitao can’t chase after him like this.

“You can go home, hyung,” Sehun says. “I’ll let you know if there’s any trouble.”

“All right,” Junmyeon says with a sigh. “I told Zitao about his meds, but I wrote it all down too. It’s on the kitchen table. His schedule has all been pushed back, so he just needs to stay at home and rest. Make sure he doesn’t try to leave or do anything too strenuous, okay?”

Sehun salutes Junmyeon cheekily, laughing when Junmyeon smacks the back of his head. “Got it,” he says and waves Junmyeon out the door. Then he grabs the takeout from the kitchen, along with some plates and utensils, and joins Zitao back in his room.

“Are you gonna feed me?” Zitao asks as Sehun opens up the boxes.

“I’m sorry, Junmyeon-hyung didn’t tell me you’d broken both your hands, too,” Sehun says, shoving a pair of chopsticks into Zitao’s fist.

“You’re so mean to me,” Zitao complains. “I’m damaged and you’re <i>mean</i>.”

“I brought you food,” Sehun reminds him, handing him a full plate. “Now stop whining and eat. I need to check when you should take your meds again.”

“No, stay,” Zitao says, pulling on Sehun’s sleeve to keep him in place. “It’s not for awhile,” he adds. “Just sit here with me, please? I’ve been going crazy not being able to do anything. Talk to me. How was your day?”

Sehun smiles at him, shifting over so they’re pressed up close enough without Sehun getting in the way of Zitao’s injured foot. He pops a piece of chicken into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, trying to think of anything interesting to say. “It was okay,” he replies eventually. “Had a shoot with Jongin. Those are always nice.”

“It helps that you’re friends,” Zitao says, laughing. “I haven’t seen him in awhile.”

“Once he finds out you’re in a cast, he’ll probably stop by to laugh at you,” Sehun says and Zitao groans. Sehun pats his knee lightly, then taps at Zitao’s plate with his chopsticks to ensure he keeps eating. “How long are you gonna be stuck like this?”

“Too long,” Zitao says. “It hasn’t even been a day and I hate it.” He wrinkles up his whole face in annoyance. “The cast is already making my foot itch.”

“Don’t ask me to stick something in there to scratch it for you,” Sehun says, pilling a bit more rice onto his plate. “I don’t like you that much.”

“I want a divorce,” Zitao says so seriously that Sehun can’t help but laugh, unbidden, hiding his mouth behind a hand. Zitao is grinning at him, eyes soft and fond, and Sehun reaches out to cup the back of his neck, draw him in close and kiss him once, twice, on the lips.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck like this,” Sehun says, pulling back and smiling, gently pushing Zitao’s hair out of his face. It’s blond, now, and Sehun quite likes it. “I’ll help you out as much as I can,” he adds, presses one last kiss to his mouth. “But I’m still not gonna scratch your foot for you.”

he’s not sure how he missed it. all those years of being such good friends, enjoying chanyeol’s company, his bright smiles and endless optimism. lunches together in between classes, late nights studying and chanyeol’s low voice as he played on his guitar while jongin dozed off beside him in bed. chanyeol’s silly texts, his constant worrying over jongin’s health, the way he’d laugh at jongin and ruffle his hair in the mornings when he had a hangover and chanyeol brought him home. jongin will have one tonight, too, but chanyeol won’t be there to drag him into bed this time. not when he has someone else to take care of, not when he finally has someone to take care of <i>him</i>.

jongin is so stupid. it’s too late now to wish he could be that person instead of jongdae, who has an arm around chanyeol’s waist and glances up at him with fondness in his eyes that can’t be missed. chanyeol, too, looks perfectly at home there with him, and jongin can’t do anything but watch them and regret the terrible, terrible timing. regret that it took him so long to realize he was in love with chanyeol all this time.

he sighs, brings his glass up shakily for another long drink and when he’s out he stares into the empty glass, swirls around the last few drops and wonders if he can handle another. his stomach doesn’t seem to think so, but jongin’s heart feels so empty, so lost, that he’s tempted anyway.

before he can make any decisions, though, chanyeol is suddenly flopping down into the space on the couch next to him and plucking jongin’s glass right out of his hands. “you look like you’ve had enough,” he says, his deep voice like ice down jongin’s back.

jongin stares at him, his pretty eyes and prettier smile, and has to look down quickly. chanyeol is still looking out for him and jongin can’t take it. “i’m fine,” he says, but chanyeol’s always been able to read through his lies.

“are you okay?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. “you seem sad.”

“do i?” jongin says and forces out a laugh he hopes is good enough to fool chanyeol. it definitely doesn’t fool himself. “i’m just tired, really.”

chanyeol makes a humming noise, clearly not convinced, but then jongdae is there, handing chanyeol a beer and smiling down at jongin. “thanks,” he says to his boyfriend, and then, as if jongin’s heart wasn’t already in pieces, jongdae easily slips onto chanyeol’s lap to sit like he belongs there. and jongin has to remind himself that he <i>does</i>, because <i>jongdae</i> is chanyeol’s boyfriend, not jongin. not jongin.

“i haven’t seen you in a long time, jongin,” jongdae says, grinning, “how’ve you been?”

jongin does his best to push aside the ache in his chest, the terrible feelings and how much he wants to just lean against chanyeol’s shoulder like he used to and play with the rings on his fingers. he smiles back at jongdae and says, “i’m okay. busy, i guess. trying to keep up with work.”

“i heard from chanyeol,” jongdae says, and he pats chanyeol’s hand when he says his name, “you’re finishing grad school this year, right?”

“yeah, just a few months left,” jongin nods. “i can’t believe it, to be honest.”

“you’ve been working so hard, you should be excited!” chanyeol says. “i know <i>i</i> am.” he beams down at jongin and something about his expression seems so proud, like he’s happier than jongin is about all that he’s accomplished.

and jongin...jongin isn’t sure he can do this, right now. not right now, not when it all still hurts so much. he abruptly gets to his feet, stumbling a little in his haste or because of all that alcohol, he’s not sure, and jongdae reaches out to steady him which only makes jongin feel worse. “i--bathroom--” he mumbles out at their confused expressions and bolts down the hall.

locked away in the safety of the bathroom, away from chanyeol’s warm gaze and jongdae’s kindness, jongin feels like he can breathe again. he splashes cold water on his face and tries to relax, shoves all those resurfacing feelings into the back of his mind again, but nothing seems to help. his chest still feels so tight, and just closing his eyes as him thinking about how good chanyeol and jongdae look together. jongdae, who jongin wishes he could just hate because it might make things easier, but instead he can only look at him and see how nice he is, how easily he complements chanyeol, the two of them so bright and caring. it’s a perfect match. jongin can’t hate him for seeing how wonderful chanyeol is when jongin has been so blind for so long.

a loud rap on the door has jongin jumping and he takes one last look in the mirror, schooling his expression into something less pained, and shuffles out, letting a very drunk looking baekhyun shove past him. jongin wanders back out, wondering if he should rejoin them when chanyeol’s familiar laughter fills his ears. jongdae is whispering something into his ear and chanyeol...chanyeol is smiling so beautifully, so happily that jongin, for the first time, feels slightly less upset and more wistful. if jongdae can make chanyeol smile like this, then isn’t that a good thing? chanyeol should always be smiling like this.

it won’t be easy, he knows, having to keep his feelings tucked away inside, but jongin will do it. jongin will do whatever it is he can to make sure chanyeol is happy, even if it’s not with him.

In a week or so, after Yixing’s schedule clears, they’ll have to pick up with the next part of the photo book, but Sehun’s glad they can keep in touch in-between. It’s always nice to make friends. He takes a selca with Yixing and and sends it to Zitao, and doesn’t tell him that he’s contacted Junmyeon to get a pass onto set of Zitao’s photo shoot the next day. His flight’s in the morning and he wants to surprise Zitao.

Okinawa is quite warm and sunny when Sehun arrives. He hasn’t been in here in a long time, and the ocean air and cool island breeze is refreshing after all that time in the density of Shanghai. It’s been nearly a month since he last saw Zitao so Sehun is excited. Zitao wraps up his last shoot here today and Sehun plans to spend the next two days lying on the beach with his boyfriend until he has to fly to New York. He just hopes Zitao hasn’t added anything new to his schedule since they last talked.

It’s an outdoor shoot in Nago, right along the beach, and Sehun trudges along past tourists and locals out relaxing on the sand to where he can clearly see a production set with photographers and stylists lingering around. He spots Zitao easily, too, his red hair making him stand out against the beach. He’s dressed impeccably in tailored black shorts and a crisp, patterned button-up. He’s barefoot in the sand, switching between a few smiles and laughs as he kicks his feet through the tiny grains, and keeping his expression cool, serious. He looks amazing.

Sehun gets stopped by security before he can get too close and it’s Junmyeon who comes and lets him through, patting Sehun on the back and asking how he’s been. “Zitao will be happy to see you,” he says, grinning, and Sehun smiles back. Junmyeon is the only person who knows about his and Zitao’s relationship, other than their closest friends, and Sehun appreciates how much he helps to keep it under wraps. Sehun and Zitao’s friendship is well-known, so it’s not that strange for Sehun to stop by and visit Zitao here.

“How’s he doing?” Sehun asks Junmyeon as he hands him a badge to clip onto his shirt, just in case anyone asks what he’s doing there without one, and follows him around the throng of staff members closer to where Zitao is shooting.

“He’s been pretty tired lately,” Junmyeon admits, frowning. “But you know him, fighting to get out on set no matter what.” He smiles ruefully and Sehun nods, sighing. “At least this is the last one.”

“For now,” Sehun murmurs and Junmyeon’s laugh is a little strained.

“For now,” he agrees and they don’t say anything more than that.

Sehun doesn’t mind, though, his attention shifting back to Zitao as he’s rising up from where he was lying on the sand. Zitao shakes off sand from his clothing, lifts a hand to his hair before quickly dropping it as if remembering he can’t ruin the hairstyle he’s been given, and then sighs, his chest heaving. He definitely does look tired now that Sehun’s up close and can see his face properly, but he still smiles softly at the make-up noona who steps up to retouch him.

It’s then that Zitao looks up, over the heads of the photographer and the equipment set up a few feet away, maybe looking for Junmyeon to telepathically complain. Instead, he finds Sehun’s eyes, and his own grow large and Sehun can’t help but smirk at him, lifting a hand in a silent greeting. Zitao still looks shocked, jumping when the stylist gives him a playful poke and he turns back to her sheepishly, even as he keeps throwing glances Sehun’s way like he’s not really sure that he’s there.

“Maybe I should’ve stayed at the hotel,” Sehun says, amused.

“Like you didn’t come here just to see him react like this,” Junmyeon replies, laughing more genuinely this time. “Don’t worry, he’ll get over it. I hope.”

It’s definitely fun to see Zitao work hard to follow directions from the photographer--Kim Jongdae, Sehun realizes belatedly, his attention having been completely on Zitao--now that he’s distracted by Sehun’s sudden appearance. But Zitao is good at what he does and he doesn’t let go of his professionalism at all, working the camera as wonderfully as usual and soaking up the occasional praise Jongdae sends his way. Watching like this has Sehun itching to take photos, too, but he doesn’t want to pull his camera out from his bag. Instead he fiddles with his phone, sneaking a few shots of Zitao mid-shoot and the surrounding beaches and keeping himself occupied.

The shoot goes on for about another hour, with a few costume changes and different hair styles. Each time Zitao returns looking better than before and Sehun isn’t sure if it’s all that time apart that has him already vibrating with want. By the time they wrap up, it’s a little ridiculous how much Sehun wants to run up and tackle Zitao to the ground and finally kiss him, not even caring about the people around. But he waits as patiently as he can, stepping aside a bit so he’s not in the way as everyone packs up.

Jongdae catches sight of him first, grinning widely and waving Sehun over to where he’s checking through the photos on the computer one last time. “Hey, Sehunnie, it’s been awhile,” he says, reaching up and patting down Sehun’s windswept hair. “What brings you here?”

Sehun shrugs nonchalantly. “Got some free time before my next assignment, thought I’d come enjoy the beach,” he says and Jongdae nods understandingly.

“What do you think?” he asks, gesturing toward the photos on the screen and Sehun takes a few moments to look through them, giving Jongdae his opinions. Jongdae’s been a photographer much longer than Sehun so he doesn’t want to overstep boundaries, but Jongdae seems pretty interested in Sehun’s thoughts so he tries not to hold back, either. Of course, there’s nothing bad to say; the photos are great, with beautiful shots of the beach and the waves in the background, and Zitao looks good in nearly all of them.

“When are you back in Seoul?” Jongdae asks afterward, sliding out of the folding chair and leading Sehun off the set as the rest of the staff continues to clean up. “We should have lunch sometime.”

“In a week?” Sehun says, distracted when he sees Zitao heading toward him purposefully. “I’ll give you a call, okay, hyung?”

“Sure thing,” Jongdae says, grinning. “It was good to see you. Have fun on your mini-vacation.”

Sehun grins back at him, waves as he leaves, and when he turns back around, he jumps, startled, because Zitao is right there, staring at him with intense eyes. “Hi,” Sehun says, smiling, and Zitao’s eyes dart down to his mouth and then back up.

“What’re you doing here?” he says, surprise clear in his voice.

“Was in the area,” Sehun says simply, shrugging again. Zitao’s eyes narrow and he laughs. “I thought I could use a few days on the beach.” He kicks sand at Zitao as if to prove his point and Zitao squawks, jerks back. “Are you free?”

Zitao licks his lips, glances around until he spots Junmyeon, who is talking with Jongdae. Junmyeon just smiles indulgently when he notices Zitao’s stare and waves him off toward the hotel, and Zitao reaches for Sehun’s wrist and drags him away instantly.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he’s saying, now sounding somewhere between impressed and exasperated. “Showing up here like this, in the middle of a <i>shoot</i>--” He’s babbling, and it’s kind of adorable, that Sehun just surprising him has him this frazzled. “That was the longest hour of my life.”

“Your face was priceless,” Sehun laughs, “better than I even imagined when I told Junmyeon-hyung I was coming.”

“Hyung <i>knew</i>?” Zitao exclaims and he drops Sehun’s hand once they reach the hotel, walking through the doors in the back and swiftly toward the elevators. Sehun struggles to keep up with how fast Zitao is moving. “I can’t believe him either.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Sehun says. He can’t keep the grin off his face. The elevator is empty, but they both know better than to do anything until they’re safely tucked away in Zitao’s room. Instead, Zitao just stares at Sehun with that same intense look, like he’s never seen anyone like him before, like he can’t wait to touch him and pull him close, like he can’t keep how in love he is off his face. Sehun feels much the same, even as Zitao’s attention has him a little embarrassed, too. He looks away first, shifting the strap of his bag over his shoulder and anxiously waiting for the elevator to reach their floor.

Zitao is quick to get them inside his room, just a short walk away, and in the next second he has Sehun pressed up against it and his mouth covering Sehun’s own. Sehun gasps, reaches out to grab his elbows, something, anything to hold onto as he’s devoured, Zitao’s lips teasing yet deliberate, easily coaxing Sehun to kiss him back, though not as if Sehun was going to deny him. The door handle digs into the small of his back but Zitao’s hands on his waist are distracting, his tongue hot and slick in his mouth, and Sehun feels a little weak already, gasping as he pulls back.

“Were you surprised?” he asks cheekily, nipping his teeth on Zitao’s lower lip, and Zitao just makes a low, frustrated noise and pushes Sehun back against the door little harder.

“Shut up, Sehun,” he says and kisses him again, kisses away Sehun’s breathless, delighted giggle, and presses his thigh between Sehun’s legs.

Sehun groans and returns Zitao’s kisses for a few minutes longer until the position gets too much, feeling trapped between the door and Zitao’s chest, the strap of his bag digging into his shoulder. He pushes Zitao back, laughing at his whine, and says, “Let me get rid of this first, at least.”

Zitao looks only a little guilty as he backs away, running a hand through his hair, the product in it making it stand out at odd ends. Sehun dumps his bag onto the armchair by the balcony door, looking out the glass at the perfect view of the ocean Zitao has. “Wow,” he says, “this is nice.”

Arms slide around his waist and Zitao notches his chin atop Sehun’s shoulder, squeezing him tight and lacing his fingers together at Sehun’s stomach. “Nicer with you here,” he mumbles and Sehun snorts, pats Zitao’s hand.

“Always with the cheesy lines,” he says, shaking his head and turning around halfway so he can look at Zitao over his shoulder. “You know I already like you, right?”

“I’m trying to be <i>romantic</i>,” Zitao huffs, giving him a sort of reprimanding squeeze around the waist again. “You really surprised me today.”

“What if I don’t want romantic?” Sehun says. He turns fully now, Zitao’s arms falling from his body and this time Sehun touches him, reaching out to slide his hands up Zitao’s chest, stepping in just a bit closer so that their lips are a breath apart.

Zitao draws him in the last of the way with a hand on his ass, slipping into the back pockets of his jeans, and they’re flush together now, so close Sehun’s pretty sure he can feel Zitao’s heartbeat through his chest. “What do you want then, Sehun?” he asks, voice soft, his free hand brushing Sehun’s hair over his ear.

Sehun doesn’t answer with words; instead he just kisses Zitao again eagerly and manhandles him over to the bed. Zitao laughs as his knees hit the edge and he falls back into it, scrambling backwards so they’re lying together on the mattress properly, and he surprises Sehun with how deftly he rolls them over, pinning Sehun down to the sheets and kissing him again.

From there, it’s quick to pull off clothes and let hands wander over each other’s bodies, fingers leaving trails of goosebumps across their skin, mouths following after, kissing, gently biting into the flesh, Sehun’s low groans filling the room at the way Zitao marks him. Sehun can’t ever do the same to Zitao, not when he has to strip nearly every day in front of dozens of people, switching between different outfits and occasionally posing without a shirt. So instead he takes in every one of Zitao’s desperate marks, relishes in the bruises he leaves behind, and tightens his fingers in Zitao’s hair as he sucks around a nipple.

Neither of them have lube handy, an unfortunate hindsight to their plans, but Sehun doesn’t hesitate to push Zitao down against the mattress and blow him instead. “Shit,” Zitao groans, fingers digging into Sehun’s shoulders as he sucks around the tip before taking him down as far as he can. “I’ve missed this.”

“Just this?” Sehun asks when he pulls back, laughing a little, and Zitao’s dick jerks in his hand from the puff of air. He licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the underside, watching Zitao closely, watching as he tries to keep control in the way his jaw clenches tight.

“There are--other things--fuck, Sehun--” he gasps, and Sehun has to hold his hips steady to stop him from thrusting up too suddenly. He lets out a deep, ragged sigh and adds, “You really are good at this.”

“Maybe not good enough, if you’re still talking,” Sehun says, and Zitao drops his head back against the pillows as Sehun sucks him off more purposefully, relaxing his mouth as much as possible until Zitao’s cock hits the back of his throat. That has Zitao moaning loud enough that Sehun can’t be sure their neighbors didn’t hear him, and he pulls off long enough to breathe before doing it again. When Zitao comes not much later, he clenches a fist into Sehun’s hair, holding him where he wants him as Sehun teases him through it. Sehun swallows everything and licks over the slit just to see Zitao’s thighs tense, feel his cock twitch on his tongue, and laughs when Zitao curses and pushes him away.

“Come here,” he says in a whiny voice, and Sehun goes, kissing him roughly and rubbing up against his hip, his cock hard and leaking. “What do you want?”

Sehun would really like to fuck him right now, but with that off the table, he settles for the next best thing. Zitao is happy to accommodate, rolling over onto the stomach and rising on his knees, thighs pressed together for Sehun to press his cock between them, bumping up against Zitao’s balls with every few thrusts. After a few weeks of nothing to go on, this feels amazing, and it isn’t long before he’s coming, too, forehead pressed between Zitao’s shoulder blades and come spilling over his thighs.

Zitao grumbles about it only a little, seemingly more content to pull Sehun close and wrap his arms around his back like earlier. He presses light kisses behind Sehun’s ear, lets his fingers dance around his navel and the sigh he lets out sounds so content, Sehun can’t help but smile, taking one of Zitao’s hands in his own to play with the rings on his fingers.

“Do you think Junmyeon-hyung would go buy us lube if we asked?” Zitao asks into the crook of Sehun’s neck, sounding sleepy even though it’s still mid-afternoon.

“Probably not,” Sehun says, amused. Junmyeon would probably call them idiots and leave them to deal with it themselves, but then again, he does seem to be soft on them, so it might depend on the mood he’s in. “If you haven’t caused him a lot of trouble lately, then maybe.”

“What? I’m a fucking angel,” Zitao says and Sehun laughs, rolling out of Zitao’s arms to try and muffle the sound into the pillows. “What’s so funny?” he demands and Sehun shoots back, “<i>You</i>,” before darting out of the bed before Zitao can catch him.

He finds his jeans from the floor and tugs them back on, and Zitao is frowning, waving him back into bed. “I’m not tired,” he says, stretching his arms over his head, and throws Zitao’s clothes at his face. He hears Zitao spluttering behind him as he heads out onto the balcony, the fresh air cool against his skin and the rush of the waves loud in his ears. He holds onto the railing and takes in the views, watching miniscule-sized people wandering down the shore, smiling at the wisps of laughter that carry up with the wind. Sehun will have to drag Zitao out later so he can take some photos on his camera.

Zitao steps out a few moments later, looking a little more cleaned up and dressed in just his underwear and shirt, and slings an arm around Sehun’s shoulder, standing beside him. “I’m starting to think you came here for the beach more than me,” he says accusingly. “Which is it?”

“The beach,” Sehun answers immediately and ducks out under Zitao’s arm when he attempts to pull him into a headlock. He takes Zitao’s hands, lifts one up to kiss his knuckles softly and then bumps their shoulders together. “You might’ve had something to do with the decision, too. I guess.”

“You are such a brat,” Zitao laughs, but still gently tightens his fingers around Sehun’s between them. “How long do I have you for this time?”

“Two days,” Sehun says, refusing to let himself think too much about it. It’s more than what they’ve had, of course, but it’s still never enough. “Tomorrow we have to go to the Pineapple Park.”

Zitao smiles at him softly and nods. “Sure,” he says, sounding rather indulgent, but Sehun can tell he’s excited, too. “For now, how about we find some food?”

“Hmm,” Sehun hums, drawing Zitao back into the hotel room and into the bed again. He wraps his arms around him snugly, resting against Zitao’s shoulder and not wanting to really let go. “Only if it’s room service.”

It’s not like he has all these lingering feelings or anything. He and Baekhyun split pretty amicably, all things considered with how casually Baekhyun had dropped the bomb on him and said he’d be moving out. They’d been together for two years so it was rough, watching him pack up his things and seeing how much more excited and happy Baekhyun looked around Jongdae, a coworker of his who had apparently swept in on all those weeks Baekhyun spent traveling out to L.A. and Atlanta to work with the different branches of his company. Chanyeol wasn’t jealous or anything, maybe just a little sad. Sad to add another failed relationship to his roster, sad to see how bad things had gotten between them without him even really realizing. Somewhere along the line things had shifted and they’d both known it and all that distance apart hadn’t helped, and neither did the waning feelings.

Chanyeol wants to avoid Baekhyun because Baekhyun looks <i>good</i>. Looks like he did when they’d first gotten together, full of life and smiling brightly with Jongdae next to him as they settle at a table near the small stage. There’s a jazz band playing tonight, but Chanyeol barely hears it now over the sound of his heart, anxious that Baekhyun will see him and say hi and Chanyeol will have to see how happy he is and hope Baekhyun doesn’t give him a pitying look when he learns Chanyeol is spending his Friday night alone at a bar.

He glances up again carefully, catches sight of Baekhyun tossing his coat over the back of a chair and then heading up to the bar to presumably get drinks for him and his boyfriend and Chanyeol, in a sudden desperate move, turns to the only person sitting next to him and says, “Hey, so, uh, are you here alone?”

The man beside him looks up quickly from his phone and oh. Oh shit, this guy is really hot, Chanyeol thinks weakly, not expecting the sharp jaw and the full lips. His eyes are a deep brown and he looks somewhere between sleepy and surprised that Chanyeol is talking to him. “I--what?” he says, confusion showing in the wrinkles in his forehead.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says quickly. “I just, uh, asked if you’re here alone?” He laughs awkwardly, a little forcefully, and rubs the back of his neck. “I thought I was the only one who’d be here by themselves.”

The man gives him a slow once over, like he can’t tell if Chanyeol is hitting on him or just being overly friendly. “I’m waiting for a friend…” he says after a moment, “but it’s not so bad to be here by yourself, is it? The music is good.”

“I guess not,” Chanyeol agrees. “Do you come here often?”

Now the man looks more suspicious, frowning a little as his fingers tighten around his glass on the counter. Chanyeol wants to quickly tell him that he doesn’t have any ill intentions when a familiar voice suddenly calls out his name. With a sinking feeling, Chanyeol turns to find Baekhyun walking up to him, bright smile on his face and drinks in his hands.

“Hey, Chanyeol, it really is you!” he says, setting his drinks down and patting Chanyeol’s shoulder. “What’re you doing here? How’ve you been?”

“I--I’m good,” he says awkwardly, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. He’s not sure how to act; he hasn’t talked to Baekhyun since they split up and despite ending things on good terms, this all feels too strange right now. He glances over at the man beside him, who is darting his eyes between Chanyeol and Baekhyun, before settling back on Chanyeol. He’s not sure what the guy can see in his face, maybe Chanyeol’s discomfort, maybe the way he’s tensed up as Baekhyun keeps talking, but after a few moments, realization floods his eyes.

“You should come and join Jongdae and me,” Baekhyun is saying, and fuck, that’s even worse than running into Baekhyun here at all. “We should catch up!”

“Um, well, actually, I’m kind of--” Chanyeol hedges, wracking his brain for some kind of excuse, no matter how flimsy, when suddenly the man beside him speaks cuts in, reaching out to place a hand on Chanyeol’s elbow pointedly.

“He’s in the middle of a date,” he says, and Chanyeol hadn’t noticed it before, but his voice is smooth and low and it settles warmly in the pit of Chanyeol’s gut.

Then, suddenly, his words slam into Chanyeol full-force and he has to stop himself from gaping at the man incredulously and give himself away. Quickly, he nods instead, playing along and grinning at Baekhyun. “Yeah, we’re a little busy, Baekhyun,” he says, hoping Baekhyun can’t see through him. “But maybe another time?”

Baekhyun laughs, shrugging, and gives Chanyeol’s savior a quick, interested look, before he says, “Yeah, no problem. Have fun on your date.” He winks at Chanyeol, picks up his drinks.

“You, too,” Chanyeol calls after him and waits until Baekhyun’s seated before heaving a deep sigh. He feels like he’s just aged five years, turning back around and wondering if it’d be extremely pathetic to bury his head in his arms on the counter and groan.

He doesn’t get a chance to do much because the man beside him is laughing, his shoulders shaking a bit as he finishes off his drink and signals for the bartender to get him another. When he looks back over at Chanyeol, his eyes are gleaming and the smile on his face is nothing short of beautiful. Chanyeol stares at him, stunned for a few moments, before he remembers himself, trying to shake out of it but not really able to distract from how <i>gorgeous</i> this man is.

“Shit,” he says, “thank you so much for helping me out. I didn’t know what I was going to do and you--”

“It’s okay,” the man says, shaking his head. “It was kind of fun; I’ve never had to pretend to be dating someone before.” His grin widens and it lights up his whole face and Chanyeol can’t look away from him. “I mean, I hope you don’t mind that I just went ahead and did that or anything.”

“Of course not,” Chanyeol says, shaking his head. “Really. Thank you.”

The man just smiles at him, takes a sip of his drink and then says, “I’m Jongin, by the way. It’s nice to meet you--Chanyeol, was it?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol breathes, “yeah. Chanyeol. That’s me.”

Jongin laughs again, and the sound is adorable. “And that guy? Your ex, I take it?”

Chanyeol nods. “I haven’t seen him since we broke up. I wasn’t prepared to run into him again, you know?”

“I get it,” Jongin says emphatically. He’s fiddling with his phone, turning it around in his hands, but his attention is all on Chanyeol. “You know, I thought you were making a move on me or something, when you spoke up earlier.”

Chanyeol groans, embarrassed by his pathetic attempt at conversation. “Sorry about that, I was just trying to look--I don’t know. Busy? Hopefully so I wouldn’t be recognized, but I guess it didn’t really work out.” He runs a hand through his hair agitatedly and reaches for his bottle of beer and chugs down a few mouthfuls. “I didn’t mean to get you involved in anything weird.”

Jongin shakes his head dismissively. “I jumped in on my own, you know,” he says. “You looked really lost.” He bites his lower lip, glancing down hesitantly before adding, “It was kind of cute.”

Chanyeol gapes at him, taking in the blooming blush on Jongin’s cheeks. Chanyeol hasn’t really been looking to date again since Baekhyun, but he wonders if maybe, there’s a chance here with Jongin who is, well, gorgeous and just saved Chanyeol out of a tight spot. He might not know him at all yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to, if Jongin was interested. “Are you really waiting for a friend?” he blurts out, “Or can I maybe buy you a drink?”

Surprise flashes across Jongin’s handsome face but then he laughs. “I only said that because I wasn’t sure if you were a creep,” he says, hiding his amused grin behind a hand and looking vaguely sheepish. “I come here by myself a lot,” he adds. “Like I said, the music is really good.”

“So,” Chanyeol says slowly, smiling at Jongin hopefully, “if I bought you a drink, as a thank you, would you--”

“I’d gladly accept it,” Jongin says.

“And, if I maybe bought you one after that, just because?”

“You might have to carry me home.”

That has Chanyeol laughing, amused by this attractive man who has managed to turn his evening around within minutes. “Not a strong drinker?” he asks and Jongin shakes his head again, tousling his dark brown hair and he looks much younger then, peering up from under his bangs. “Then maybe I can save that for another night.”

He’s a little surprised Zitao hasn’t woken up yet, but then again he came home last night at four in the morning, after galavanting across Paris for two weeks. Sehun had been asleep then, barely recognizing the press of familiar lips to the back of his neck and strong arms around his waist. It’d been nice to wake up to his boyfriend’s face this morning and Sehun wants to keep it all, had itched for his camera the moment he’d become lucid enough.

Zitao will probably complain about the photos later, that he looks ugly or that there’s smudged eyeliner in the corner of his eyes, that Sehun should delete them all, but Sehun likes him like this most, honest and simple and so soft in his sleep. Not the hard, fierce Huang Zitao that walks at fashion week and poses for W Korea and GQ, the rising star in the industry. Sehun likes that Zitao, too, sure, because that was how they met, years ago, but there’s something so much more alluring about the one lying in Sehun’s bed, mused up hair and drooling into his pillow. This is the one Sehun loves most.

He crawls over to the side, crouching low so he can direct the lens right into Zitao’s face and takes a few more shots. By the time he’s satisfied, he sits back against the headboard of the bed and checks through them on the small screen. Later, he’ll hook it up to his laptop and see what he can do with them properly, but for now, just going through them has him smiling, his heart warm.

He’s thinking of maybe heading out to grab them something to each for breakfast when Zitao finally stirs, stretching toned arms above his head and groaning into the pillows. Sehun grins down at him, reaching out to thread his fingers lightly through Zitao’s hair, and it takes a few moments as Zitao blinks out of sleep, but then he’s smiling and tilting his head into Sehun’s fingers, making a soft sound like cat. “Hey, babe,” Zitao says, voice all scratchy from slumber. “I’m back.”

“Finally,” Sehun says, and doesn’t spare a thought before he’s leaning down and kissing Zitao firmly on the mouth. Zitao laughs a bit, and Sehun’s missed that so much, fingers tightening in Zitao’s hair as he returns the kiss, their lips moving together as if no time has passed at all since they last saw each other. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another few days.”

“Mm, we finished up the last shoot ahead of schedule. Apparently I was that good,” Zitao says, smirking, and Sehun rolls his eyes but doesn’t let up on his gentle petting through Zitao’s hair. “So I had Junmyeon-hyung change my tickets for me.” He lifts his head just enough so he can kiss the inside of Sehun’s wrist. “I really missed you.”

Sehun nods, his throat suddenly too thick to speak, and hopes Zitao understands what he can’t say. It gets to him, sometimes, the constant distance, the late night phone calls and near misses. It’s not just Zitao who spends weeks at a time across the world; next week Sehun will fly down to Jeju for a High Cut shoot with Kim Jongin and after that, Shanghai, to work on the first part of a photobook for Zhang Yixing. If Sehun remembers correctly, Zitao has obligations in Tokyo soon, and they’ll be separated again for who knows how long, and Sehun will only have the photos on his camera to remind him how Zitao looks in the mornings.

“Stop thinking,” Zitao chides, hands cupping Sehun’s face and tugging him down. One kiss, two, his lips soft and chaste and not pressing in for more, just a gentle reassurance that for now, Zitao is here. “I came back early, so now we have a few extra days, don’t we? So stop thinking about when we have to be apart again.” He pouts at Sehun. “It’s like you’re counting down until you don’t have to see me anymore.”

“That’s not what I’m--” Sehun starts, indignant, but then gives up when Zitao laughs, that sort of high-pitched sound he makes when he finds something really funny. Maybe it’s the look on Sehun’s face, or how easily he can get Sehun riled up like this, but either way, it works, and Sehun’s pushing aside the worries and focusing on the fact that he does have Zitao with him now and that’s what’s most important. “You’re right,” he says, letting go of Zitao’s hair finally to instead lace their fingers together.

“I’m always right,” Zitao says grandly, and Sehun kisses him again.

He pulls back a moment later, wrinkling his nose. “You should go brush your teeth,” he says, pushing at Zitao’s shoulder.

“That didn’t seem to bother you earlier,” Zitao laughs, but obliges Sehun anyway, pressing one last kiss to his forehead and climbing out of bed. Sehun watches as he walks out of the room, taking in the slope of his naked back, the thickness of his thighs, and feels a familiar want settle in his chest. It’s been so long, he thinks with a sigh, climbing out of bed as well so he can retrieve his laptop from the living room. He returns, settling down in the middle of the mattress, content to stay in bed as long as he can today, considering Zitao is back and neither of them have any prior obligations, and hooks up his camera to the computer.

The pictures are beautiful, but Sehun knew they would be. If there’s anything he’s confident in, it’s his photography. And Zitao is gorgeous no matter what, no matter if Sehun teases him and says he looks ugly or that a certain hair color doesn’t suit him. Sehun always thinks he’s beautiful. The sunlight falls across Zitao’s face just right in these photos, his eyelashes stark against his cheeks, lips parted just slightly. His bare shoulders, partly covered by the sheets, are the right amount of sensuality, a hint of something more. Sehun’s gut coils tightly as he stares at the pictures, lost in his thoughts and his feelings for Zitao, that he almost doesn’t hear him return until Zitao’s tugging the laptop to the side to look, too.

“When did you take these?” he asks, surprised, and all the breath Sehun didn’t realize he’d been holding leaves him in a whoosh.

“This morning,” Sehun replies, running a hand through his hair, eyeing Zitao’s face for his reaction. He’s never hidden any of his photography from Zitao, but he does still worry from time to time of what Zitao thinks of them, especially the photos he takes when Zitao is unaware.

“These are really nice, Sehun-ah,” Zitao says softly. “I mean, obviously, when you have me as a model, but--”

“Shut up,” Sehun says, laughing, yanking his laptop back despite Zitao’s squawk. “You don’t need to see the rest, it’d only feed your enlarged ego.”

“Well, you can focus on something else that’s enlarged instead,” Zitao says saucily, and Sehun stares at him for a long moment before he bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, “I can’t believe you just--Seriously?”

“Come on,” Zitao says, carefully disconnecting Sehun’s camera and closing the laptop. “Put this away so I don’t break it like that one time.” It’d been a couple months after they’d started dating and Sehun had almost broken the whole thing off when it’d happened, but Zitao’s puppy eyes and endless begging was hard to ignore. “And don’t pretend like you weren’t eyeing me earlier, Sehun. You know I can tell.”

“So what?” Sehun returns after setting his equipment onto the desk in the corner and crawling up over Zitao, straddling his hips. “That doesn’t mean you can use such a terrible line on me and expect it to work.”

“You’re right where I want you though, aren’t you?” Zitao says, hands sliding up Sehun’s thighs, playing with the hem of his briefs. “We have to make up for the past two weeks.”

He finds them in his and Jongin’s bedroom, lying asleep on the bed. Jongin is resting between them, an oversized picture book laid open on his chest, and their kids curled up next to him. Jinwoo has his thumb in his mouth, a habit they still haven’t managed to break, while Hyejin is holding onto Jongin like he’s her own personal teddy bear.

Chanyeol lets out a soft, happy sigh at the sight of them, his favorite people, his family. He carefully reaches out and pulls the book from Jongin, closing it and setting it onto the bedside table. He does his best not to disrupt them as he pulls the blankets over their bodies, laughing quietly as Jinwoo snuffles in his sleep. Chanyeol tugs his thumb from his mouth and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead. He does the same for his daughter, too, brushing her bangs from her face. He’s half tempted to poke Jongin awake, just to see him flail in surprise, but instead presses a kiss to his cheek as well and leaves them all to sleep.

Chanyeol takes a quick shower to unwind after his tiring day and finds leftovers from dinner set aside for him in the fridge. He’ll have to thank Jongin for that later, he knows how much Jongin doesn’t like cooking, even though he’s improved greatly in the past few years. A lot has changed in that time; the kids had been only one years old, keeping them up at night and so much more work than either of them could’ve ever imagined. They’re four now, and still a handful, but Chanyeol loves that about them, too. No one said raising kids would be easy and he and Jongin knew that going into the adoption. He’s never once regretted the decision.

He’s thinking so intently about this that he doesn’t even hear the microwave beeping until Jongin’s soft, tired voice says, “Aren’t you going to get that?”

Chanyeol jumps, surprised, whirling around and catching Jongin’s amused smile. “Hey,” he says, forgoing his food in favor of walking over to his husband to give him a kiss. “Did I wake you?”

Jongin shakes his head, sagging slightly into Chanyeol’s embrace, clearly still tried. “Hyejin punched me in the face in her sleep,” he mumbles and makes a pitiful sound when Chanyeol outright laughs at that. “We have to watch out for her, she’s gonna be trouble when she’s older.”

“Hmm, seems like she’s already learning to take care of herself,” Chanyeol says, grinning. He presses a kiss to Jongin’s forehead before pulling back, holding him at arm’s length to give him a once over. He definitely looks tired, dark circles under his eyes a result of the extra work he’s put in to get that promotion at work. They’re doing pretty well for themselves, but the better pay will help out so much as the kids grow older and Jongin has been eying that position for awhile now, always striving for something more. Chanyeol’s always admired that about him. “You should go back to bed,” he says, gently rubbing a thumb along a cheekbone.

Jongin shakes his head. “I feel like we haven’t spent time together in days,” he says, and Chanyeol lets Jongin cling to him as he pulls his food from the microwave and grabs a fork from the drawer.

“It’s the weekend,” Chanyeol says, patting Jongin’s thigh lightly, “I’ll be home. So you should rest.”

“Here is fine,” Jongin says sleepily, lying across the couch and dropping his legs across Chanyeol’s lap. “See? Resting.”

Chanyeol snorts, shaking his head, but he knows better than to fight him. Besides, it’s not as if Chanyeol doesn’t want Jongin around, either. “All right,” he says, “but I’m not carrying you to bed.”

“The kids stole our bed,” Jongin reminds him, smiling. “We’ll just have to make do out here.”

“You’re kick me off the couch again,” Chanyeol says and laughs at Jongin’s indignant squawk, “no thanks.”

“<i>You’re</i> the one who--Jinwoo? What’s wrong?” Jongin is sitting up already at the sight of Jinwoo in the hallway, looking tired and scared. He opens his mouth to reply but only lets out a choked little cry and Jongin quickly climbs off the couch to pull him up into his arms, all his earlier exhaustion replaced in a flash with the need to protect their son. “Did you have a bad dream?” Jongin questions, rubbing his back.

Jinwoo shakes his head and says into Jongin’s shoulder, slightly muffled, “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“It’s okay, Jinwoo, we’re just out here,” Chanyeol says, setting his plate onto the coffee table to get up and peer at his son, patting his head softly until he pulls back from where he’s burying into Jongin’s shoulder. “You don’t have to worry, remember? You’re not alone.”

Jinwoo sniffles slightly, eyes wet, but he nods. He’s had more trouble adjusting to sleeping in his own room with Hyejin than his sister, getting frightened in the middle of the night when he realizes he’s by himself. Most of the time Chanyeol will sing him back to sleep, or they’ll do their best to reassure him that he’s safe and they’re just across the hall. There are nights when they let him sleep in bed with them, but Chanyeol wonders if maybe they need to be more stern about it. They both have such difficulty saying no to the kids.

“Hyejin is still sleeping, don’t you want to go back to bed?” Jongin says.

“Are you sleeping too?” Jinwoo asks, looking at them with wide eyes.

“Dad’s gonna finish eating and then he’ll come to bed.” Jongin says. “Why don’t we go make sure there’s room for all of us, okay?”

“Okay,” Jinwoo says, and he’s smiling now, much more happier about this situation than he was before.

Jongin gives Chanyeol a slightly bemused look, and Chanyeol gives both his boys a quick kiss before waving them off. “I’ll be right in, too,” he says, glancing at his untouched meal and not feeling particularly hungry anymore. He flops down onto the couch and makes himself eat a couple of bites since he hasn’t had a proper meal all day, having spent most of work in meetings and running around trying to finish a major project. He needs some nourishment.

By the time he’s had enough and he’s put away the leftovers in the fridge again, Jongin has managed to get Jinwoo almost back to sleep. There’s barely enough space on the other side of Hyejin for Chanyeol to climb into bed and chances are he’ll probably end up out on the couch sometime through the night, but for now he knows it’ll help Jinwoo sleep if Chanyeol is there, too.

“Is this better?” he whispers to his son, and Jinwoo nods sleepily, eyelids drooping as Jongin lightly brushes fingers through his hair again and again. “Good. Sleep well, Jinwoo.”

“You, too, daddy,” Jinwoo mumbles, and Jongin lets out a relieved sigh when Jinwoo’s eyes close completely, his breathing evening out.

Chanyeol meets his eyes over their kids, resting in the middle of the bed, and even though he’s tired and worn out and overworked, his heart feels so big and full in his chest, full of happiness and love for his family. Chanyeol wouldn’t give this up for anything. “Goodnight, Jonginnie,” he says, as Jongin reaches over and takes his hand, squeezing gently.

“Hmm?” Yixing says, slipping into the bathroom behind him, peering at Sehun through the mirror. “What about me?”

Sehun spits into the sink and says, “Minah’s dress. Can you fix the button on it?”

Rough hands slip around Sehun’s middle, Yixing’s guitar-calloused fingertips pressing up under his loose tank top to graze against the skin of his stomach. “I could do that,” he says, leaning into Sehun, barely tall enough to notch his chin on Sehun’s shoulder. His eyes meet Sehun’s in the mirror and Sehun almost swallows his toothpaste at how nice Yixing looks despite having just rolled out of bed. His gaze is intense, his hair all mused up, and it doesn’t help that he’s not wearing a shirt, because Yixing’s like, allergic to clothing or something, and Sehun looks like a wreck next to him, toothpaste all around his mouth and pimples forming on his chin. He really needs to shave, too.

Except, somehow, Yixing looks at him and says, “You’re looking very cute this morning.”

This time Sehun nearly chokes on his toothpaste as he snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says around the toothbrush, then spits again and rinses out his mouth. “Clearly you’re still asleep.”

“If I say you’re cute, then you’re cute,” Yixing says decisively and Sehun can’t help but laugh, turning around in Yixing’s arms and grinning down at him. Yixing presses one light kiss to his lips, patting his ass, and steps away. “I’m gonna shower if that’s all right.”

Always so polite, Sehun thinks with a shake of his head, asking to make sure even after all this time. Sure, Yixing doesn’t live here, but he might as well be. Except it’s still too early to think about that, so Sehun pushes it aside and nods his head. “Go for it,” he says, waving a hand. When Yixing eyes him expectantly, Sehun swallows and adds, “I’ll be right in, gonna check on the girls first.”

Yixing smiles, nods at him, and Sehun leaves the bathroom for the room down the hall to see if his daughters are up yet.

They are, running around the room with much more energy than Sehun thinks should be possible to possess at seven in the morning. Minah shouts excitedly when she sees him, barrelling into his legs and exclaiming, “Papa! Papa, look, I got ready all on my own.”

Sehun steps back to look and she does a cute little spin for him in her floral dress. “Put on some socks, baby,” he says, “or you’ll get cold.”

Minah rushes off to do just that, digging through the bottom shelf of their dresser. Sehun turns to look for Miyeon, who is also looking between a few dresses spread out on her bed. “Wear this one?” Sehun suggests, pointing to the one in the middle.

“But then Minah and I will look too matching!” she wails and Sehun laughs, patting her head to soothe her down.

“She’s your sister, there’s nothing wrong with matching every once in awhile,” Sehun says.

“Then why don’t you ever wear the fuzzy sweaters that Chanyeol bought for you and Yixing?” Miyeon demands, giving Sehun a hard stare with eyes that look just like his own.

He coughs into a fist, wishing his kids hadn’t been around to see that when Chanyeol had gifted it to him and Yixing last Christmas as a joke. Or, well, Sehun figured it was a joke, but Chanyeol is an idiot so it’s hard to know whether he was serious or not. “That’s different,” he says hastily, and remembers that Yixing is waiting for him in the shower, and adds, “Why don’t you wear the red one? You look really nice in red.”

“Really?” Miyeon says, hopeful, and Sehun nods. She beams at him then and then holds the dress out for him to help put on. Sehun’s gotten a lot better at this, making sure not to get the buttons or zippers stuck in their hair, and slips it on, smoothing it down until Miyeon looks satisfied.

“So pretty,” he says, and tickles her lightly, grinning at how she squeals. “Now go put on socks, too, okay? Dad’s gonna go take a shower and then we’ll have breakfast.”

They both nod at him and Sehun sighs, running a hand through his hair and heading back into the bathroom. He strips easily and the warmth of the water that hits his skin is instantly calming. Yixing’s gentle touches are even better.

“Good morning,” Yixing says into his mouth, sliding a wet hand up Sehun’s back. “Ready for the day?”

Sehun is never ready, hasn’t been ready since he was 21 and found out that he was a father, that suddenly his entire world was upside down and he had two beautiful baby girls staring up at him with wide eyes and seconds away from crying. Six years later and he still doesn’t ever feel ready, but with Yixing, his kind smiles and endless patience, is starting to make Sehun believe that maybe he is.

Just maybe.

“After this shower, I might be,” is all he says in return and smiles against Yixing’s lips when he kisses him again.

-

It’s Zitao’s idea. He’s the one who shows up an hour before six and declares Sehun’s got a date and then forcibly strips him and shoves him under the shower. Ten minutes later, he’s dressing Sehun in his best jeans and a nice button-down and fluffing up his hair with a blow dryer while Sehun’s daughters are flitting around their feet and demanding attention.

“I don’t want to go on a date,” Sehun grumbles, trying to stop Minah from getting eyeliner all over her face.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to,” Zitao says decisively. “You’re going to. I’ve already arranged everything. You’re going to <i>love</i> him.”

“After your last attempt at a blind date, I seriously doubt your judgement,” Sehun says, remembering the date Zitao had pushed on him a couple of months ago. Jinri had been nice but she’d nearly run for the hills the second Sehun mentioned his daughters. He doesn’t blame her, but he does blame Zitao.

“No, really, you’ll love him,” Zitao says and his confidence makes Sehun curious. But only a little.

“I don’t need a date, okay? I’m perfectly happy,” Sehun says. He wraps his arms around Miyeon, who has climbed into his lap, and tickles her lightly, grinning as she squeals as if this will prove his point.

“I just worry about you, Hun-ah,” Zitao says solemnly, meeting Sehun’s eyes in the mirror. “We all do.” He finishes Sehun’s hair with a flourish and sets the dryer aside, picking up the make-up instead. “Besides, even if you don’t love him, you should take some time for yourself, you know? You’re always at home, even when you have people willing to watch the girls for you.”

“I <i>like</i> being home with them.”

“Well, tonight, I’ll watch them! And you will have a great night out, courtesy of me, and when you return totally smitten, I can say <i>I told you so</i> and everything will be great.”

“Got it all planned out, don’t you?” Sehun says, amused despite himself. Zitao’s enthusiasm has always been endearing, even if it’s sometimes at Sehun’s expense.

Zitao nods. “Now shut up and close your eyes so I can do this,” he says, only to let out a following groan when Minah steps on his foot.

Forty minutes later and Sehun is seated at a nice restaurant, anxiously playing with his phone and waiting for his date. He’s early so he’s not worrying about being stood up yet, but if he has to wait longer than ten minutes after the agreed time, he’s bolting. He doesn’t care. This is not going to go well. It never does, not when his date finds out about Sehun’s kids. Sure, it’s not so uncommon for people in their mid-twenties having kids, but Sehun hasn’t found anyone who has been more than welcoming to the knowledge. He doesn’t know what makes Zitao so sure this guy will be.

Sehun starts out of his thoughts at the sound of his name, hastily looking around before his eyes land on a man just a few feet away. He gets to his feet and searches around for the name Zitao had given him, “Um--Yixing? Right?”

The man breaks out into a smile, soft and kind, drawing a single dimple out in his right cheek, and <i>oh</i>. Oh. He’s cute.

“Hi,” Yixing says, joining Sehun at the table and gesturing for him to sit back down as he takes his own seat. “You’re Sehun, then? I’m sorry I’m late.”

Sehun finds himself shaking his head, all earlier annoyance gone. “I haven’t been here that long,” he says, nervousness flooding his veins as Yixing shrugs off his coat. He’s wearing a woven cardigan in a deep blue and a shirt underneath with a low, scooped neck that shows off more skin than it covers. Sehun swallows and forces his eyes back to Yixing’s face. He’s definitely good-looking, with black hair that falls into his eyes and plush lips.

Fuck Zitao, Sehun thinks angrily. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Maybe that’s why Sehun says, before Yixing can start conversation and get too into this, “I don’t know if Zitao, uh, told you about my--”

“Your daughters, right?” Yixing interrupts, giving Sehun a rather knowing look. Sehun wonders if it’s that obvious he was trying to scare Yixing off. “He told me that you had two girls. Twins right? How old are they?”

“I--um. They’re three,” Sehun says, feeling knocked off balance. He clutches at the knees of his jeans and says, “It doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” Yixing asks, tilting his head and looking confused, and Sehun lets out all the breath in his chest in a soft whoosh. “I hope you’ll show me some pictures later. But first, maybe we should order. Zitao said the steaks here were really good.”

He smiles at Sehun from across the table, honest and clear, and Sehun...Sehun thinks Zitao might have been right after all.

-

“What do you two want for dinner today?” Sehun asks after he’s picked them up from his parent’s house. It’s a little past five in the evening and Sehun had begged out of his mother’s dinner, too tired to deal with parents after such a long day. Lately his mother only nags him about working too hard and needing to find someone to settle down with. Sehun thinks it’s funny that he gets that sort of marriage talk when he’s had kids for six years, but he supposes it could be worse. He should probably tell his mom about Yixing, but he doesn’t want to jinx it.

“Chicken!” both of them yell at once, on either side of him, clutching his hands in the middle.

Sehun groans. “I need to not leave you two alone with Jongin anymore,” he says, but obliges in their request and picks up chicken on their way home. He’s not expecting Yixing to be waiting outside the door, tapping at his phone and looking way too attractive in his dark suit, leaning against the wall. “You know, I did give you a key for a reason.”

Yixing hums, smiling at him as he curls a hand around Sehun’s neck and pulls him down for kiss. “I just got here, actually,” he says, laughing at the way Miyeon and Minah push Sehun away to give Yixing excited hugs. Sehun pouts at his daughters, betrayed. They’re never that happy to see <i>him</i>. “I was gonna call you right when I heard you coming down the hall.”

“Well, come on in then,” Sehun says, quickly opening up the door and letting all of them in. Yixing helps the girls out of their shoes and coats and lets himself be tugged into the kitchen as they chat loudly at him about their day. Sehun shakes his head, smiling to himself, and straightens out the shoes in the doorway and hangs his own coat up, tossing his work bag on the couch as he passes. His tie comes off next, the top few buttons on his white shirt popping open, and he drops the take-out bag onto the table. “Go wash your hands, girls,” he says and they pout at him. He points down the hall and adds, “Go, or Yixing and I will eat all the chicken and you can just sit and watch.”

Yixing laughs, gives them both a little push and they’re off. Before Sehun can turn to the kitchen sink to do the same, he’s caught around his middle and pulled into Yixing’s lap, seated at one of the chairs at the table. “Hello,” Yixing says, eyes bright, and Sehun sighs, letting himself relax in Yixing’s embrace. “Long day?”

“Too long,” Sehun says, and lets Yixing’s kisses recharge him until the girls return and demand to be fed.