Work Text:
Yoo Jonghyuk wakes up lethargic.
He abandons the bundle in his arms -the contents being Kim Dokja- and sits up. His chest is hit with cold air (yes, he sleeps half-naked) and he swallows. Why didn't his saliva taste so...tingly? He lets out a heavy breath and shakes his head to no one really -bad choice, a wave of nausea hits him and he gets up fast enough to rival the speed he'd been going st when he fought Yamata no Orochi and his eight heads. He dashes to the bathroom, bee-lining straight towards the toilet.
For a peaceful moment, he feels nothing as he bends over the toilet, before bile builds at his esophagus, pouring out into a censored monstrosity in the toilet. Holy fuck.
As it empties out of him, Jonghyuk crumples to the floor. Tears prick at his eyes and his breathing is heavy with exhaustion. Though he just woke up, he already wants to spend the next three years of his life sleeping, Dokja's body warmth providing him comfort all the while.
He wipes at the spot on his Chin and leans up to wash it off half-heartedly as well as gargle water without really getting off the floor.
"Jonghyuk?"
He turns to meet the gaze of a sleepy Kim Dokja, cozied up in the upper part of a set -he wore the shirt while Jonghyuk wore the pants- and the moment his glazed over eyes meet Dokja's blurry ones, the starry orbs regain their vigour, turning circular.
_
Yoo Jonghyuk crying in the bathroom was not something Kim Dokja could possibly foresee.
Seeing the taller man staring at him with watery eyes, a flushed complexion and heavy breathing -on his knees- lit up a protective, primal, possessive part of Kim Dokja he didn't know he had in the first place. Especially when his brain helpfully supplies that Yoo Jonghyuk is younger than him. Shit, maybe Sooyoung was right about his Mother Hen instincts.
He rushes over, "Are you okay?!"
He presses a palm to the Younger'a forehead, he's burning up, "Oh god, you're hot."
Yo Jonghyuk has the gall to smirk, though his eyes are lidded. "I know."
"Not the time, sweetie." He skillfully masks a half grin-half cringe and instead hauls half of Jonghyuk's weight up to drag him to the bed, the taller's own feet stumbling to carry himself up without help.
"No," Dokja says, placing Jonghyuk onto the bed with all the grace and elegance of a WWE body slam, "You're sick."
"I'm not," Jonghyuk frowns, "I've never been sick, never will."
Dokja doesn't bother arguing. "What'd you eat yesterday?"
Jonghyuk blinks blearily at him, then decides he needs Dokja's hand against his face oh so desperately, "Kim Namwoon's cursed pizza rolls."
Jonghyuk's cheek is molten lava against the pale of the smaller's hand and the former snuggles closer into it, enjoying he cool deliriously.
"Well, no wonder. Honey, you have food poisoning."
"I do not."
"You do."
"No."
"Jonghyuk-ahhhh," Dokja groans, "Stay in bed and rest up, hm? I'll get you something to eat."
"Nuh," Jonghyuk's eyebrows scrunch and a lip juts out, pouting. Oh god, Dokja thinks, he's so cute he's gonna be the death of me. "Stay."
So Dokja stays. He lets the younger press up against his icy palm until his breathing evens and his eyes can't open. He fits a t-shirt over him so he doesn't get cold and Jonghyuk doesn't even jostle. Knowing he was a light-sleeper, it really went to show how tired he was feeling.
He makes sure the sunfish is all tucked in before he presses a kiss to Jonghyuk's forehead. Smiling at the way his eyebrows unknit, Dokja leaves the room in hopes of cooking something nice.
_
Hands wrap around his waist, "Dokja." A body presses against him and the cool of his nape meets Jonghyuk's forehead -nearly hot enough to sizzle.
The reader glares at him over his shoulder, "I thought I told you to stay in bed?"
He can audibly hear the sulk in his voice, "You weren't there." Teeth gnaw against his neck playfully, "How could you leave me."
Apparently a sick Yoo Jonghyuk was a petty, adorable, clingy Yoo Jonghyuk too. Dokja really wants to coo and obsess over him, so he does, because he has his priorities.
He takes his eyes off the broth and turns around to cup the taller's face, peppering kisses all over it, "Awh, does my Jonghyuk-ie miss me? You're adorable, you know that?"
Jonghyuk melts at the affection. He hugs Dokja tighter, humming, "I miss you."
Kim Dokja is going to scream. How could a living, breathing, thirty-something-thousand year old human(?) being possibly be so fricking cute?! He's broken a fucking world record- if there a one, anyway.
Oh, how great it'd be if he could just stay home all day every day, curling up with Jonghyuk and whisper to him about how lovely, hot, cool, adorable, absolutely perfect he is.
He turns off the stove and leads Jonghyuk back to bed. Opening a cupboard or two, he places a fever pad to Jonghyuk'a forehead -yet he's still adamant on using Dokja's body as an air conditioner.
He escapes from his grasp to serve Jonghyuk food -chicken broth and rice. Depositing it in Jonghyuk's lap, Dokja goes to step out for his own bowl when- "Where are you going?"
"Getting myself food."
Jonghyuk blinks at him and he can just imagine dog ears on his head drooping down. Or maybe wolf ears?
When Dokja re-enters, he finds Jonghyuk missing, his bowl of broth and rice letting off steam alone.
He wanders around for a minute or two before heading straight for the bathroom. Right, Jonghyuk had food poisoning.
"Are you okay?"
No response.
"...Do you need anything?"
He hears a muffled groan from inside, "Just shut up and go away."
Wow. Dokja really wants to chide him for being rude to his benevolent care-taker, how he could drug his food if he wanted to, but doesn't. No point trying to teach a sick man manners. Especially if that sick man was Yoo Jonghyuk.
Dokja complies, humming a familiar tune, veering back to the bedroom, snagging his phone on the way.
_
Yoo Jonghyuk felt pathetic.
Was he not a transcendent? Wasn't he the Breaking the Sky Sword Saint's esteemed disciple? So why was he so weak? Why was he feeling so clingy and bothered? Is this what Dokja always felt when he was sick? How ignorant he'd been then, taking care of what could've been his minimum needs?
Maybe it was karma or a blessing- here he was blowing his ass off in the bathroom and yet, and yet, Dokja bothered to check in, to see how he was doing.
The very thought that he'd stay (unlike all the other times he'd left him behind to die for the scenarios), that he was there for him- it was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
Oh, how stupid he reckoned he was acting, all sick and lethargic for nothing but food poisoning. Did Dokja find him useless? Someone who needed to be taken care of? A burden?
He knows it's stupid having these kinds of thoughts after Dokja had been there for him for years- even before they'd met, sticking with him through thick and thin, regardless of the consequences.
...But what had Yoo Jonghyuk done?
He'd thrown him into the open mouth of an ichythesaurus, belittled him, ran a sword along his heart, knocked him unconscious on several occasions and beat him black and blue for the measly sake of seeing his personal attributes- Yoo Jonghyuk was horrible to him.
He bites his lip, head hanging. Why was he crying? He had no right to feel this way for bearing the burden of his selfish acts. He deserved to feel pathetic, to get a a punch delivered straight to his solar plexus. He deserved to bear it all, instead of bothering Dokja with his physical, mental and emotional needs.
He dries his tears and flushes the toilet. Only when his staggered breathing stabilises does he leave the bathroom.
_
Maybe Dokja was reading it wrong but Jonghyuk did not seem okay.
Well, yeah, he was sick, but that isn't what he means. He looks tired, dreary...well, again, he was sick, but-
Dokja glances at the door, taking a spoonful of broth and rice into his mouth. What demons did he battle in the bathroom for him to be so solemn?
He takes another spoonful of rice, chewing thoughtfully and Analysing Jonghyuk's figure. He doesn't face Dokja, choosing to look directly at his food instead. Dokja can barely see his face under the thick mop of his hair, missed and untidy (yet his protagonist genes don't let him look any less hot, metaphorically and literally.)
Dokja reaches a hand out to gently pull the other man's chin up. Jonghyuk startles and tries to look away, but he doesn't let him. He has both hands on Jonghyuk's cheeks, strong enough to bruise; it was already too late.
Dokja sees the whites of his eyes fade to red and his awfully fresh glass eyes. Shit.
Dokja's jaw drops.
"Why were you crying?!"
Jonghyuk manages to mumble out, "I wasn't crying."
Dokja's glare is fierce and demands no excuses, "Don't lie to me."
Still, Jonghyuk is stubborn, "I wasn't crying."
Dokja frowns at him, staring into his eyes. Jonghyuk meets his gaze head-on if only to regain some semblance of his masculinity and cover up his emotions.
But as reliable or unreliable (depending on whether you were Jonghyuk or not) as ever, Dokja reads him like an open book. "Did you think I thought of you as a burden? That you were pathetic for crying and useless for it?!"
Jonghyuk chews on his lip, avoiding Dokja's glare like they were daggers to his heart (to which they were, in a sense, prying his heart open and begging to reveal his secrets. ) Confrontation was hard when you were the one being confronted.
Taking his silence as a confirmation, Dokja's eyes narrow dangerously, "You actually.." he trails off, then seems to decide words weren't enough to say what he wanted to say. So Dokja does what he does best.
Play and fiddle with Jonghyuk's heart.
He pulls him in closer to smash his lips onto Jonghyuk's with enough force to send them both tumbling on the bed, empty bowls and plates of food discarded thoughtlessly to someplace on the floor. He kisses him like he's starved, like a man dying of dehydration to his oasis, which was ironic- Dokja had always felt like the oasis to Jonghyuk. His paradise.
He kisses him like an animal, more vigour and enthusiasm than finesse, yet Jonghyuk finds himself loving every bit of it. His surprised expression quickly turns star-struck as he hums.
Sometimes it felt nice to get absolutely owned.
Dokja breaks away, more breathless than his victim. He pants, "I fucking love you."
Jonghyuk's vision gets blurred into a menagerie of colours and his head feels like lead, but he sports a small smile- a little upturn of his lips. His voice cracks a little when he says, "Yeah?"
"Yeah. So-so don't put it in that idiotic brain of yours that I don't love you or that you're worthless."
His breath catches in his throats and he throws his head back with his arms wrapped around the smaller's waist to let out a laugh-like huff, his voice is a desperate shaky, "That's-that's rich, coming from you-"
Dokja rolls his eyes but Jonghyuk is too busy blinking the water in his eyelids away to see, "You're an idiot. An adorable idiot, but an idiot nonetheless."
That's all it takes.
That's all it takes for the dam to break. That's all it takes to leave Jonghyuk drowning in his own emotions of love, adoration, guilt, whatever you could name. That's all it takes for Dokja to tear his heart apart like he owned it, to which he did. That's all it takes for how, wet years to spill out messily from Jonghyuk's eyes. That's all it
takes for Jonghyuk to take a deep, long, refreshing breath- shaky and stuttering.
Dokja's hand is freezing against his nape, but warms him all the same.
He straddles and cradles Jonghyuk like he was precious, like he was sand to spill out of his loving palms any moments, glass to shatter at the slightest touch. Each kiss Dokja trails down his body leaves Jonghyuk crumbling and hiccuping more and more, but Dokja makes no move to shush him. He merely pats at his hair and takes his hand in his, intertwining their fingers placatinly like he was taking care of a child's tantrum and not a full grown man's breakdown with little 'It's okay's and 'let it all out's.
He moves the hand on his hair to cup a cheek, thumb brushing against it to and fro. Jonghyuk leans into it, indulges in the warmth and lets it swallow him whole- be it for an eternity or just a moment, he doesn't care. Dokja soft breath against his croaked out, audible ones anchor him down to the present, yet provide him the lee-way for his thoughts to wander.
The reader- no, Kim Dokja is here with him, adoring and proud of his flaws and riding out the pain with him.
All the mistakes he's made, the wasted regressions, the turmoil of lost lives and missed opportunities, the very curse of existence- they all tear and rage Jonghyuk's mind apart and yet, he thinks as he lets out a shuddering, breathy sob, a man as broken, if not more broken than he was is sat down with him to carefully piece it all back together, to calm the outcries and angry voices as if to say, "You're perfect just the way you are."
And in this case, he really does say it.
It's enough to ensure the jackrabbit of Jonghyuk's heart no rest, enough to ensure that Jonghyuk's longing for the other was alive, unadulterated and thrumming with glee.
"I-I'm sorry-"Jonghyuk chokes out over his own sobs.
"What are you sorry for?" The love of his life croons, voice a silky smooth against the chaotic vibrations of Jonghyuk's own headache thundering against his heartbeat, "You've done nothing wrong."
Yoo Jonghyuk wails.
Embarrassingly so, he lets out a high-pitched keen, a few octaves higher than what Jonghyuk thought was the highest it could go. His face is flushed scarlet in embarrassment and sickness both, dripping down to cover his nape and collarbone in an unhealthy red.
Hell, he must've looked like he just crawled out of a dumpster, especially when he was lying here, face a sodden wet from crying like a damn baby. Ugh.
He blinks through his tears to check Dokja's expression to check if he really meant what he was saying, but it backfires when Dokja's irises visibly turn it hearts and he squeals, pinching at Jonghyuk's non-dry cheeks, "Ah, you're so cute!!"
Visible question marks pop up around Jonghyuk's face. What the- wow that was a quick mood switch. Not that Jonghyuk was one to complain, his emotions weren't stable enough for something like a singular mood per twenty minutes.
Deciding there was no point in questioning Kim Dokja when he got like this, he just lets the smaller coddle him, kicking his feet and squinting up at Jonghyuk's face, much to the laters chagrin.
"You're so cute when you cry, oh my god! I can't-" he blatantly fanboys, to which Jonghyuk holds back a shiver. Had anyone else said that, their face would be rubbing the concrete floor from how sadistic it sounded. But this was Kim Dokja, unpredictable as ever. Slowly but surely, the rave of Jonghyuk's mental state calms and the tears stop spilling. All the while, Dokja beams at him.
"Better?"
Jonghyuk grunts, voice raspy and gruff, "A little."
He manoeuvres Jonghyuk around so that he's back to lying vertically on the bed, then a hand reaches out to muss at the talkers hair. "Water?" Jonghyuk nods.
He leave and enters with water in hand, making quick work of emptying it into Jonghyuk's reluctant mouth (he could do it himself just fine), then reapplies a new fever pad to Jonghyuk's forehead. "Now then, get some sleep. Okay, Hyuk-ah?"
When Dokja makes a move to leave, a hand reaches out to tug at his dainty wrist, "Yeah?"
Jonghyuk refuses to meet his eyes, looking anywhere but directly into Dokja's gaze, "Get in." Heaven knows he's not an eloquent speaker, but Dokja understands. Dokja always understands.
He giggles, throwing the edge of the blanket up to quickly get under it. Dokja's cool body presses against his once more is a delicious burn, and Jonghyuk finds himself smiling at the absurd idea of going to sleep when it was only afternoon.
Their limbs wrap and tangle with each other like it was their second nature and the beat of Dokja's breath against his remind him that he's living, that his heart still races for Dokja even after all these years.
Yoo Jonghyuk doesn't know how to take it. He just holds him tighter and peppers kisses all over the smaller's face if only to convey a fraction of adoration he felt for the other.
Against the rush of their heartbeats, their breaths dilute to one, and they slip to slumber.
_
Dokja presses a hand against Jonghyuk's forehead, "I guess you're all cured, thanks to my handiwork."
Jonghyuk doesn't remark to his snark, instead looking away with his ears dusted pink, "...Thank you."
A bout of comfortable silence envelops them before Dokja ruins it by opening his mouth, "Oh, no problem. It was so worth it to watch you sob in my arms-"
Jonghyuk grits through clenched teeth, why does he even love this man, "That did not happen. You're delusional."
"Try as you might, I'm never going to forget!"