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When San asks Wooyoung out on a date, Wooyoung is expecting it. More than that, Wooyoung has spent months creating the conditions for which it will happen. San is adorable and he's sweet and he's kind, but he's not the most aware person Wooyoung has ever met. Which is fine - Wooyoung prefers his men a little airheaded.
“Wooyoung,” San says, perching gently on the edge of Wooyoung's bed. He pulls his knee up onto the mattress so he can turn and face Wooyoung head-on. His eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is set with a level of determination that seems more suited to giving a motivational speech in a sports anime rather than asking your best friend - who is already desperately and stupidly in love with you - on a date. Wooyoung finds it all very endearing. “I know we've been friends for a long time, and maybe this could ruin our friendship…”
Studio Killers' “Jenny” starts looping through Wooyoung's head like the soundtrack of a coming-of-age film.
“...but I really like you. Like, more than like maybe.” San frowns like he's trying to think of a word that's more than like but not quite love (because it's probably too soon for that) and is coming up empty. Wooyoung wants to supply him with options like enamored with or adore or fond of , but he decides to wait it out to see if San can come up with something on his own. “I guess it's more correct to say I am infatuated with you.”
It makes Wooyoung's heart skip a beat. He feels like the heroine of a Jane Austen novel.
“I want to take you on a date,” San says finally, his eyes wide and searching as he looks at Wooyoung. “Is that…okay?”
Wooyoung bites the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to scream. Months of laying the groundwork to show San that they are basically soulmates have finally come to fruition.
“Yeah. I'd like that.”
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Their first date starts at a cat cafe an hour away from their (unfortunately separate) apartments. There are definitely cat cafes closer to where they live, but San insists that the cats are cuter at this one.
“Look, Youngie, I spent like three hours researching and these are the cutest cats within a 40-kilometer radius, trust me,” he says, glancing away from the street to shoot Wooyoung a dimpled grin. He has one hand on the steering wheel while the other is wrapped up in Wooyoung's own, their fingers interlocked like puzzle pieces. Wooyoung doesn't bother telling him that he'd travel ten hours for subpar cats if it meant San kept holding his hand. Plus the whole one-hand-at-10-o'clock thing is doing stuff to Wooyoung that he can't even begin to verbalize.
Instead of responding, Wooyoung just hums softly to let San know he's listening. The radio is on, quietly playing a song in the background that Wooyoung vaguely thinks he knows but doesn't care about enough to find his phone and Shazaam it. He's content to just bop his head along to the beat and concentrate the majority of his attention on the feeling of San's thumb brushing across the back of his hand.
The cats are, in fact, incredibly cute. What San doesn't realize is that Wooyoung is so in love with him that he barely notices the cats at all (other than when a little black ragdoll kitten comes to lay down in his lap. He pays attention to her because she's adorable and deserves the world). San looks like he's living out a dream, holding out a churu treat for the babies who are brave enough to come over and sniff him. Wooyoung takes at least thirteen videos - San asks him to send them later on so he can also have videos of all the cats and Wooyoung agrees because he isn't sure how to tell him that ninety percent of the videos are just of San.
After they are sufficiently covered in cat hair and their prepaid time at the cafe runs out, San takes him to eat samgyeopsal. Wooyoung insists on grilling the meat - San isn't allowed in the kitchen after the Galbitang Incident of 2022 . Wooyoung manages to resist the overwhelming power of his pout this time, insisting that grilling meat is the least he can do after San planned such a perfect date. San beams at that, his mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin and his chest poked out proudly, and Wooyoung can't help but laugh.
He really does love him. He always has.
The moment he met San back when they were both just nervous little freshman at KQU - San was half the size he is now and still had his Namhae satoori clinging to his words - Wooyoung knew it was over for him. When he had started choosing his classes, he'd been hoping to take trigonometry with his best friend. However, Yeosang was twice as smart as him and had already passed calculus in high school, so that didn’t really work out the way he’d hoped. Trig was his first real class as a college student and he had felt both excited and nervous, convinced that the first few weeks of school would dictate the rest of his life (or at least the next four years). Unfortunately, he'd overslept - a mix of staying up too late playing games with his new roommate, Mingi, and an alarm that couldn't quite breach the thick layers of his subconscious. He'd made it to trig on time, but barely, and there were only a few seats left in the classroom.
He had simply slipped into the closest empty chair, not really bothering to see who was next to him as he tried to catch his breath after sprinting across the campus. By the time he managed to be halfway cognizant of his surroundings, the lesson had already started and he realized he didn't even have a pencil to take notes with.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the metallic glint of a pen sliding across the table toward him. His eyes traveled up along the fingers pushing the pen closer to him, across the arm cocooned in a black hoodie that was two sizes too big, and all the way up to a soft, boyish face with pink cheeks and a dimpled smile. “Here, you can use this,” the boy said quietly, trying not to draw attention to them.
And that was all it took. A pen and a nice voice had Wooyoung wrapped around this stranger's little finger.
They have graduated from university since then, started their adult jobs - Wooyoung at a dance studio and San at a gym as a personal trainer - and evolved into what their moms lovingly refer to as “nice young men.” Not much has changed, not really. Wooyoung still lives with Mingi (now in an actual apartment rather than a college dorm) and San stayed with his freshman roommate, Yunho. Yeosang and his boyfriend Jongho live in an apartment two floors below Wooyoung's. Seonghwa and Hongjoong still host monthly movie or game nights and everyone shows up with a variety of alcohol and snacks stuffed into plastic convenience store bags.
San has gotten bigger now - the “twink death,” as Yunho calls it, started during their sophomore year and has continued to cause Wooyoung mental and physical distress ever since - and Wooyoung has become more confident and open and no longer worries so much about what decisions will dictate the rest of his life.
But they're still Wooyoung and San, just slowly shifting into a slightly different form. Six years of friendship and silent pining have finally resulted in confessions of feelings and a first date that Wooyoung couldn't have planned better if he’d tried.
When they finally get back to Wooyoung's apartment, San finds an open spot on the curb - it's definitely a bit illegal to stop there, but Wooyoung won't say anything until he has to - and puts the car in park, squeezing Wooyoung's hand gently.
“Did you have fun?”
Wooyoung smiles, squeezing back. San's hand is warm and a little sweaty. Wooyoung doesn't mind. “I did. Best first date I've ever been on.”
San snorts and rolls his eyes, tilting his head to look at Wooyoung with one eyebrow raised. “I feel like you're just saying that to make me feel better.”
Wooyoung shakes his head with a laugh. “I'm not. I know you planned it with you and me in mind, and the intent already puts it leagues ahead of anything else. The execution was amazing, too, so I genuinely mean it when I say that it was perfect.”
San's smile is softer than the moonlight brushing across their intertwined hands. “Yeah?”
Wooyoung doesn't think he could be more in love if he tried. “Yeah,” he says. Then he smirks, leaning closer over the gearshift. His eyes flicker down to San's lips and then lower to where his throat bobs when he swallows. “I can only think of one thing that would make it better.”
“What's that?” San's voice is so quiet it could almost be mistaken for the hum of the car's air conditioner.
Wooyoung's eyes find San's again. “Kiss me.”
There are no fireworks when their lips touch. Kissing San isn't like how it's portrayed in teen movies, with bright lights and floating hearts and a foot pop to show the physical manifestations of how intense it feels. San's lips on his feel warm and safe and familiar but new. It feels like trying your favorite ice cream from childhood again as an adult and realizing you still like the taste. Like starting a new hobby and finding out you’re actually decently good at it. Like the smell of freshly baked bread and the crunch of autumn leaves beneath your shoes and the first pool day at the beginning of summer.
Kissing San feels like going home.
San's hand comes up to cup the side of Wooyoung's neck as he deepens the kiss, his soft touch leaving a trail of goosebumps across Wooyoung's skin. Wooyoung reaches up to weave his fingers through San's hair. It feels soft - maybe even softer than the ragdoll kitten's fur - and Wooyoung sighs against San's lips. He's waited six years, three months, and four days for this moment and it is everything he hoped it would be - knew it would be.
When San pulls away - just far enough to press their foreheads together, their breaths brushing across each other's lips - Wooyoung wants to ask him if he'll come inside. He wants to touch every inch of San's skin that he can and map out the constellations of freckles on San's neck with his tongue. But he also wants to take this slow - as slow as he can handle - and discover what falling in love in this context means. Wooyoung is already in love with San, but he's never really been allowed to act on that. He deserves the chance to know what love looks like when it's not just a movie playing inside his own imagination.
San seems to understand this, even though neither of them has said anything. He moves back to kiss Wooyoung's forehead, his thumb petting the side of Wooyoung's neck. When he smiles, Wooyoung can practically feel the warmth radiating off of him like a sidewalk in the summer.
“I'll see you tomorrow then?” San asks. It's movie night at Seonghwa and Hongjoong's apartment. They've decided to go together, this time as a couple rather than just Wooyoung and San. Wooyoung doesn't think anyone will be all that surprised.
Wooyoung hums in affirmation. “See you tomorrow, Sannie,” he says, pressing his lips to San's cheek. They brush across the corner of San's mouth as Wooyoung moves away and he bites back a grin when he hears San respond with a small, sharp breath.
He's barely made it halfway across the sidewalk when he registers the sound of the car door slamming behind him. He turns, mouth already open with a curious ' forget something? ' sitting on the edge of his tongue. The words die in his throat before they even have half a breath of life to them as San's arm wraps around his waist, pulling him close so they are chest-to-chest as he presses his lips against Wooyoung's again. It's not hurried or impatient, but it is needy. Wanting. A burning flame flickering in a fireplace and spreading heat across Wooyoung's entire body. He reaches up to wrap his arms around San's broad shoulders, tilting his head to allow San better access to his mouth. San's tongue brushes across his bottom lip and Wooyoung swallows down the needy whine climbing up his throat.
He supposes his foot could pop now like they do in the movies. He supposes he could ask San upstairs - falling in love doesn't have to happen slowly, especially not if you've already been basically pining and yearning for over half a decade. Before he can find the words to say that he wants San to take him to bed, San pulls back. He stares at Wooyoung like he's made of thousands of stars strung together with moonlight. Wooyoung doesn't know how to feel in the face of so much adoration, but he smiles because he's not sure if he's ever been happier.
San presses one more kiss to his lips - one that's chaste and warm and comforting - and moves back, dropping his arms to his sides and taking a step away from Wooyoung.
“See you tomorrow, Youngie,” he says again. Then he turns and jogs back to his car, buckling himself into the seat quickly as if trying to restrain himself from running back to Wooyoung. He turns to look at Wooyoung, waving so endearingly that it makes Wooyoung giggle. He waves back before gesturing for San to drive away. San shakes his head, pointing at the door behind Wooyoung and raising an eyebrow as if to say I can sit here all night . Wooyoung laughs again and rolls his eyes, waving one more time before turning around and closing the last few feet of distance until he's engulfed by the warmth of his apartment's lobby. He lets out a soft sigh, his hand coming up to press against his chest. He can feel his heart stuttering beneath his fingertips, beating too loudly and painfully to be anywhere close to healthy.
He isn't sure if it is possible to be more in love with San than he already is, but he's positive San will do everything in his power to push the boundaries of what Wooyoung understands to be true. And Wooyoung is beyond okay with that.
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San is not the most aware when it comes to romance. Ironically, despite being a romantic at heart, he can`t read signs of attraction unless they`re basically sitting underneath a giant neon message board that says “THE PERSON BELOW THIS LIKES YOU” in bright flashing letters. Yunho once said San was a “lovable but clueless heartbreaker.”
“I’ve watched so many people try to flirt and confess to you only to have you shoot them that dimply grin and call them pal,” Yunho had lamented during a night out sometime around their junior year. Apparently, a girl had been trying to get San’s attention for the better part of an hour and he had simply waved at her from across the bar and went back to talking to Yunho.
San frowned. “I have never used the word ‘pal’ in my entire life.”
Yunho responded with a shrug. “Potato, potahto.”
San had wanted to argue the point more, but then Wooyoung and Yeosang had arrived at the bar, and whatever they had been previously talking about didn`t seem to matter anymore.
Despite not recognizing attraction towards himself, San knows without a flicker of doubt that he is, was, and has always been in love with Wooyoung. It’s not really something he thinks about deeply because loving Wooyoung is such a base function that it almost feels second nature by now. You don’t think too hard about how you breathe or about the way your skin wrinkles across your fingers. You just do and your skin just does and San just loves Wooyoung. He has since the moment the tiny freshman boy crashed into their trig class, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat as he panted for breath, and flung himself into the empty chair next to San. San`s heart had stopped at that moment, his lungs wrapping around his esophagus until it felt like he was the one lacking air. When he had slid a pen across the table and Wooyoung had smiled at him with all his pearly white teeth showing, San knew it was over for him. He would lasso down the moon if Wooyoung told him he wanted to wear it like a necklace.
Nothing has changed since then.
He’s wondered, more than once, if that is why he can’t notice when people are flirting with him. If they aren’t Wooyoung then it doesn’t matter, so his brain catalogs it as a normal smile rather than a seductive one and he moves on with his day. But much like the concept of loving Wooyoung and the rhythms of his own breaths, San doesn’t give it much thought.
Being in love with Wooyoung and telling Wooyoung that he is in love with him are two entirely separate ideas. It takes six years, three months, and fourteen hours for San to finally understand that their friendship will not implode if he confesses to having stronger feelings than just platonic affection. Even then, he can`t use the word love - it feels too strong and too much, although he mentally gives himself a month before it slips out because he’s physically unable to hold it inside anymore - so instead he says infatuated . He sounds like the Mr. Darcy guy in that one movie Wooyoung has made him watch at least three times, but he supposes that`s not a bad thing since Wooyoung seems to like that kind of language.
He’s not entirely surprised when Wooyoung says yes - he’s not sure he would have found the courage to ask him out if he didn’t at least kind of believe that the feeling was mutual - but it still makes him feel like he’s just run a marathon in the Olympics and ended up winning a gold medal. He’s out of breath and his chest hurts, but he’s also the happiest he thinks he’s ever been.
Well, almost the happiest. The truly happiest he’s ever been comes three days later in the shape of Wooyoung’s lips on his own, Wooyoung’s hands in his hair, Wooyoung’s cologne invading his senses and filling up his lungs like air. He’s not sure anything else has ever felt this right before, and he doubts it ever will. Not that it matters. Wooyoung is his now, so right is all there is.
When he arrives at Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s apartment the next night, it feels like he’s stepping into an entirely new place. Not because anything has actually changed - the furniture has been the same for the last three years and the only differences are the rotating lineup of polaroids attached to the string of fairy lights artfully swooping across the walls - but because Wooyoung is already there, dressed in the sweatshirt San thought he lost last week but apparently left over at Wooyoung`s apartment. San doesn’t think he ever wants it back. He barely registers anyone else calling out to him, a cacophony of hellos muted beneath the K-drama theme song that plays inside his head the moment Wooyoung`s eyes meet his and he`s greeted with the sunshine smile that has always made his heart melt like a snowman seeing a warm spring morning. He crosses the living room in three steps, his tennis shoes hastily and haphazardly abandoned by the front door, and he wraps an arm around Wooyoung`s waist, pulling him in for a kiss. Wooyoung lets out a yelp of surprise that devolves into a muted giggle as his smile presses against San`s lips.
It`s a chaste kiss - their current setting doesn’t allow for much more - but it still sets San’s insides on fire.
“Hi,” San says as he pulls away, grinning down at the man in his arms.
Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but San can tell he’s eating up the attention. “Well hello to you, too.”
An annoyed groan interrupts the moment. “Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?” Jongho asks. He is sitting on the couch with his arm around Yeosang’s shoulder, glaring at San and Wooyoung as if they’ve just committed the greatest grievance against him. “Because I think I’d prefer to go back to the whining and pining.”
Yeosang nods in agreeance, but the upward quirk at the corner of his lips gives him away.
San leans closer to Wooyoung, his mouth brushing against the other man`s ear. “Next time we should just ride together. They can’t complain if we make out in the car.” He says it just loud enough that he knows Jongho will still definitely be able to hear.
Wooyoung shrugs. “We could, but Seonghwa will kill us if we’re ever late and they have to wait for us before starting the movie. Besides,” Wooyoung`s grin is mischievous, teasing. His eyes sparkle with something that makes San want to laugh but also sends a shiver down his spine. “I don’t care if they watch.”
“I care,” Hongjoong butts in, stepping up behind them to drop a few bowls of popcorn down onto the coffee table. “I very much care. No making out in my house.”
Yunho, who San knows has no real dog in the fight but just likes to stir the pot, asks, “This is Mom’s house, too. Does Mom care?”
“For the last time, I did not birth you. Mpreg isn’t real,” Seonghwa says. San’s not sure if he’s been here the whole time or if he just popped into the room at the opportune moment to join the conversation. He looks at Yunho with an expression that is somehow both fond and exasperated. It’s a very mom look. “And while I don’t really care what Woosan want to do in their corner of the room, for the sake of everyone else, let’s keep the exhibitionist kink in the closet for the night. Okay?”
Murmurs of acceptance and a few wayward giggles seem like a good enough response to Seonghwa, who smiles and makes himself comfortable on the loveseat. Hongjoong waits until Seonghwa settles into his corner before flopping down next to him, a bowl of popcorn sitting on his lap. San notes that the popcorn in Hongjoong’s bowl is a slightly different color from the other two communal bowls which most likely means he’s added the special cheese powder Seonghwa likes. San knows that Hongjoong himself isn’t a big fan of the artificial cheese flavor, but he eats a handful of the popcorn without a second thought before offering the bowl to Seonghwa. His boyfriend smiles at him so softly that San almost feels like he shouldn't be watching this. The whole exchange and the knowledge that these small acts of domesticity are love in its simplest form makes San release his hold on Wooyoung`s waist just so he can intertwine their fingers.
He hopes he can be that for Wooyoung one day.
It’s Mingi’s turn to choose the movie and he battles with himself for a solid fifteen minutes as he tries to choose between Demon Slayer: Mugen Train and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time . San hasn’t seen either, so he crowds in next to Wooyoung in the worn leather recliner and watches quietly as the others discuss the merits of each film. Movie nights are sacred and consistent in their group - they take turns choosing what to watch, there is always popcorn and soju on hand, and the seating arrangement never changes. Seonghwa and Hongjoong always have their loveseat, while Jongho and Yeosang like to cuddle on the couch. Yunho and Mingi were long ago denied access to proper chairs because they rarely sit still anyway, so they take up the entire carpet and spread their long limbs across the floor. Meanwhile, Wooyoung and San crush their bodies into the recliner because they have always preferred being slightly cramped over having to sit even three feet apart.
Wooyoung slings his legs over San’s, curling into his side like he is trying to mold himself into San`s body. San wraps his arm over Wooyoung`s shoulders and turns his head to kiss Wooyoung`s temple. He lets out a pleased sound and San smiles over how much it reminds him of a cat purring.
After they decide on the movie - Demon Slayer gets the final vote based purely on how much Mingi loves Rengoku - the topic of ordering pizzas is brought up. San knows that this conversation will require another twenty minutes of debating and since he doesn’t really care what meat and vegetables deserve to go on top of a double cheese pizza, he spends the time brushing his thumb across the back of Wooyoung`s hand and staring down at their linked fingers.
“Your hand is really soft,” he says.
Wooyoung hums in response. “My mom sent me a new lotion she’s been using. It smells like jasmine.”
San lifts their hands so he can sniff at Wooyoung`s skin. Wooyoung giggles. “Would this be your omega scent?” San asks, tilting his head as his brain whirls through the option. He`d always thought Wooyoung would have a muskier smell, something woody with a hint of spice. “I feel like it would pair nicely with something like sandalwood.”
Wooyoung scoffs like that is the most ridiculous thing he`d ever heard. “First of all,” he says, squeezing San’s hand in some semblance of a rebuke that doesn’t feel all that admonishing. Not when his skin is so soft and warm. “I am most definitely an alpha. And second, I`m more of a cinnamon and cedarwood kind of guy.” He pulls away just far enough to glance over San so he can study his face. “You, on the other hand, are a solid beta with some kind of nice, calming scent. Maybe fabric softener? Does fabric softener count as an actual smell?” His nose scrunches up as he considers this question as seriously as a scientist analyzing a chemical reaction.
San laughs. Not because any of this sounds like a silly thing to say - Wooyoung could most definitely be an alpha and San doesn`t have any strong feelings about what his own secondary gender would be in this imaginary universe - but because the conversation itself is absurd and San loves it. He loves that the two of them almost always ride the same wavelength, all the way to the end of nonsensical topics that no one else would care about. The world can argue about movie options and pizza toppings, but he and Wooyoung will stay in their bubble debating the logistics of their fictional pheromones. It’s always been this way and San wishes, hopes, knows it always will be.
Wooyoung grins like he can read San’s mind, can hear the wingbeats of butterflies fluttering inside his chest, and curls his body more into San’s side like he is one step away from physically melting into San. His head lands on San`s shoulder and they watch quietly as the room continues to debate whether pineapple on pizza is, in fact, a cardinal sin.
It isn`t until they’ve finally settled on a pepperoni and mushroom with a cheesy crust that Yeosang admits that he already ordered the pizza half an hour before.
“I wanted to eat sometime during this century,” he says with a small shrug.
Ten minutes later, the food arrives—warm and cheesy, with no pineapple in sight—and everyone agrees that it was a good decision.
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Wooyoung doesn’t get tired of kissing San. He`s not sure that he could even if he wanted to. Days turn into weeks turn into months of pining transformed into something mutual and beloved and new, and Wooyoung doesn’t get tired of kissing San.
He does, however, start to wish he could do more than just kiss him.
San is a romantic and Wooyoung sees it in every kind gesture, every well-planned date that is so quintessentially Wooyoung and San that Wooyoung isn’t sure anyone else could even really enjoy the experience. But his romanticism also means that he wants to take things slow. Which is fine, totally fine - Wooyoung would never want to pressure San into moving faster than he’s ready for.
At the end of the day, though, Wooyoung is only a man.
“Do you not want to have sex with me?” Wooyoung asks over dinner one night, staring at San from across the table as his boyfriend chokes on a bite of tofu. Wooyoung didn`t know you could choke on tofu, but San somehow manages to, sputtering around a mouthful of sundubu-jjigae. He coughs a few more times and takes a long drink of water before turning his wide, confused eyes to Wooyoung.
“Why would you think I don’t want to have sex with you?”
Wooyoung shrugged, pushing his spoon around in his soup. He’s not sure why he’s being so dramatic about it but…he’s been waiting a long time to be with San. Having San admit that he doesn’t have any interest in sleeping with Wooyoung would be really devastating, but ripping off the bandaid feels a little less traumatic than just waiting around for an answer.
There is a mildly uncomfortable, prolonged silence that stretches on for a few seconds, and in the moment of hesitation, Wooyoung is hit with the realization that maybe the situation just feels off because he isn’t used to the people he’s with wanting to take things slow. The partners Wooyoung had before he met San and the few flimsy attempts at relationships Wooyoung tried to have while he was hoping to distract himself from his feelings for San weren’t exactly the healthiest. They weren’t bad people, not really, but there wasn’t a lot of romancing going on. They knew what they wanted from him and they stayed around as long as that was enough, which was okay for Wooyoung, who couldn’t give his heart to anyone but his best friend anyway.
“Do you remember Valentine’s Day of our last year at university?” San asks. “You and that one guy - Junwoo or Junseo or whatever - had just broken up a few days before and you were feeling kind of sad, so we decided to get all the guys together for an anti-Valentine’s Day party.”
Wooyoung tilts his head, trying to picture the year and day and man in question. His name was Junseok and Wooyoung vaguely remembers that they had gotten into an argument about Wooyoung’s relationship with San. Junseok didn’t like how much time Wooyoung spent with San and thought he was cheating on him. Wooyoung, who hadn’t really been all that invested in the relationship anyway, told him nothing was happening, that he was imagining things. While it was technically true that there was nothing besides friendship between Wooyoung and San, Junseok had been valid in being suspicious considering Wooyoung’s feelings. Around that time, San had been asked out by a girl in his biology class. He’d turned her down - Wooyoung couldn’t remember a time over the last six years when San had actually dated anyone - but it still made Wooyoung realize how far away San was. How hopeless it was to keep pining in silence.
San had come over the next night and seen how sad Wooyoung was - a mixture of another failed relationship and depression over his seemingly one-sided feelings - and had decided to call everyone together for an anti-Valentine`s Day. He’d gone out to buy black balloons and streamers for decorations. They ate fried chicken and drank soju and watched overdone, subpar action movies that didn’t even have an inkling of a romantic subplot. It had been fun, more fun than Wooyoung had expected to have during that terrible week, and it only made Wooyoung love San more.
Wooyoung smiles at the memories. “Yeah, that was great, Sannie,” he says. He furrows his brow in confusion. “But what does that have to do with you wanting to have sex with me?”
San’s smile is so gentle that it makes Wooyoung feel like his heart is breaking and being glued back together again. There’s a pink flush to San’s cheeks, and he blinks a few times before answering. “You got drunk and I overheard you talking to Yeosang about how you wished people wanted you. When he asked what you meant - because that’s a crazy thing to say, people always seem to be wanting you, Youngie, I mean look at you -” he breaks off, gesturing at Wooyoung like the idea of someone not being attracted to him is absurd. It makes Wooyoung’s chest feel tight and his skin warms at the compliment. “Anyway, he asked what you meant and you said something about people only wanting you for what you can give them physically. I decided then that if I ever did find the courage to tell you how I felt, I would make sure you knew that I like everything about you. I didn’t want to rush into anything because I didn’t want you to think that that is all this is to me.”
Wooyoung sucks in a breath, his throat squeezing around all of the emotions attempting to free themselves from the confines of his skin. “You’ve liked me for that long?” All that time believing that his feelings were unrequited, that San couldn’t see him the same way…
San smiles again. “Wooyoung…I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out from the first moment I met you. I know it took me a long time, but I plan to make up for it from now until whenever you don’t want me anymore.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes even as he grins so wide that it makes his cheeks hurt. “Like that’ll ever happen - I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”
San scoffs, taking a bite of his soup. It’s definitely gone cold now, but he swallows it down like it’s the tastiest thing he’s ever eaten. “We both know you’re way smarter than me.”
Wooyoung preens at the compliment, going back to his dinner with his body and mind feeling lighter than it has in days.
It isn’t until later that night when San is washing the dishes and Wooyoung is watching him from his seat on the counter, feet dangling a foot or two above the floor, that Wooyoung remembers why their conversation had begun in the first place. “So just to clarify - you do want to have sex with me?”
San glances over at him, lifting a hand to flick water in his direction. He laughs when Wooyoung tries to dodge his attack and fails, his cheek and forehead splattered with droplets of soapy water. “Wooyoung, I`m in love with you - of course I want to have sex with you.”
Then he goes back to washing the dishes like he didn’t just say that. Like Wooyoung isn’t reeling from the L-word being thrown around like spare change on a Wednesday night. It would almost seem like San doesn’t even notice it at all if it weren’t for the way his ears and neck are flushed a deep pink.
Wooyoung leans over to turn off the water, watching the way San stares down at his sudsy fingers like he isn’t sure where else to look.
“Kiss me,” Wooyoung says.
San lifts his hands. “But - they’re soapy -”
He sounds so silly and confused about what to do with this terrible conundrum and Wooyoung loves him so much. Wooyoung reaches over and grabs fistfuls of the front of his t-shirt, pulling him away from the sink and into the space between Wooyoung`s legs. “I genuinely do not care,” is the last thing Wooyoung says before he presses his lips to San’s, kissing him like he’s drowning and San is the air he is desperately trying to breathe. San kisses him back with just as much hunger, his momentary hesitation fading away as he grips Wooyoung's hip with one wet hand and entangles the fingers of the other in Wooyoung’s hair.
“I love you,” San says again, the words imprinted across Wooyoung’s mouth, and Wooyoung drinks them down like wine.
“Show me,” Wooyoung says, the words muffled as they’re pressed into San’s skin. He wraps his legs around San’s hips at the same moment San snakes his arm around Wooyoung’s waist, stepping back so Wooyoung slides off the counter and has no choice but to cling to San to keep from falling. San carries him like he weighs nothing, the arm around Wooyoung’s waist and the hand holding the back of his neck pull him tightly against San’s body. Wooyoung kisses the underside of San’s jaw, sucking small marks into the smooth skin. Red patches bloom over the constellations of freckles staining San’s neck. San has to pause on their journey to the bedroom to push Wooyoung`s back against the wall, moving his hands to squeeze the underside of his thighs as his lips find Wooyoung’s again. Wooyoung moans and San licks up the sounds. Wooyoung doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this before - years of need and want and longing that bleed into each slide of their lips, each nip at previously unexplored skin. San sounds and feels and tastes so much better than Wooyoung could have ever imagined and it’s making him dizzy.
When they both pull away for air, chests rising and falling rapidly as they pant, San takes the opportunity to tighten his grip on Wooyoung so that he can continue carrying him to his room. Wooyoung clings to him, his arms wrapped around San’s broad shoulders as he buries his face into the crook of San’s neck - Wooyoung has never been carried before and it's just as hot as it is terrifying.
“Don’t drop me,” he says, whispering the words into San’s skin.
San laughs, the vibrations traveling from deep inside his chest all the way into Wooyoung’s own. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
It makes Wooyoung giggle and the moment that had been burning with passion momentarily simmers down into a blazing warmth.
The fire is ignited again when San sets Wooyoung on the bed and immediately crawls on top of him, forcing Wooyoung to lay back on the sheets as he cages him in with his arms on either side of Wooyoung’s head and his knee pressed into the edge of the mattress. He stares down at Wooyoung like he’s trying to commit the sight to memory, his eyes flitting across Wooyoung’s face and hair, down to the way his t-shirt is riding up and showing off a sliver of skin above the waistband of his sweatpants.
“You’re so beautiful,” San says, the words awestruck and breathy. It makes something thick lodge in the back of Wooyoung’s throat and he swallows down the emotions threatening to spill out. “The first time you walked into that trig class, I thought you were the prettiest person I had ever seen.”
Wooyoung doesn’t know how to respond - there is too much to say and none of the words currently floating aimlessly around inside his head seem good enough. Instead of trying to water down his thoughts, he raises a hand to cup the back of San’s neck and surges up to kiss San again with all of the emotion currently coursing through his body. It’s too much and not enough, but San understands anyway. He lets himself be pulled down by Wooyoung’s tidal wave of feelings, draping his body entirely over him like a blanket. His weight is comforting and warm and Wooyoung lets his hands slip underneath his shirt to wander across the the smooth, muscular planes of his back.
“Want to feel you,” Wooyoung says, taking the moment when San’s lips are preoccupied with painting red and purple bruises across his neck to voice his needs. “Please, Sannie, want to touch you.”
He’s not exactly sure what he’s asking for - want to feel you isn’t the most specific set of instructions - but San seems to know his intent regardless. He pulls back and takes a step away from the bed. Wooyoung barely has time to regret the absence of his weight before he’s distracted by the sight of San pulling his shirt off over his head and throwing it across the room. Wooyoung has seen San close to naked plenty of times, but it still always manages to surprise him to see how much San’s body has changed since they first met. Gone are the thin arms and lean muscles, now replaced with broad shoulders and distractingly large pecs. Wooyoung licks his lips and watches as San slips out of his sweatpants, kicking them off in the direction of his discarded shirt. He’s in nothing but a tight pair of briefs that leave little to the imagination. Wooyoung can trace the outline of his hard cock through the fabric, a small wet patch already forming at the head. He can feel saliva pooling on the back of his tongue.
San takes a step closer to him, a smirk tilting the corner of his lips. “See something you like, Youngie?” His fingers brush across the underside of Wooyoung’s jaw, tilting his head up so that their eyes meet. San’s gaze is dark, hungry, and Wooyoung wants nothing more than to be consumed by him.
Before he can think, San has dropped down onto his knees, his body between Wooyoung’s legs and his arms resting on his thighs. Wooyoung swallows a sharp breath, his skin tingling as San slides his hands across the cotton fabric of Wooyoung`s sweatpants, scratching the sliver of flesh that is peeking out from the top of the waistband before letting his fingers travel farther up. He flattens his hands across the smooth skin of Wooyoung’s belly, his eyes tracing the valleys and hills of Wooyoung’s abdomen Wooyoung isn’t as cut as San is - he’s soft where San is hard, hips slightly curved while San’s are sharp. He used to be self-conscious about it, but he’s long since buried those negative thoughts away. Any that still remain burst into flames when San’s gaze studies him like he’s a work of art, turning to ash beneath San’s adoration. San leans forward to kiss his stomach, sucking and nipping at the softer parts of him until he’s squirming beneath San’s touch. Wooyoung is clutching at the sheets behind him to try and ground himself as San licks and kisses up his chest. As he goes, he lifts Wooyoung’s shirt higher until he nudges the hem against Wooyoung’s bottom lip. Wooyoung obeys the silent command, taking the shirt between his teeth and keening around the soft fabric as San sucks on one of his nipples, his thumb brushing across the other.
Wooyoung can feel his hard cock straining against his suddenly too-tight boxers, the wet patch on the front of his sweatpants spreading at an almost embarrassing rate. San continues to tease at his chest, kneading his pecs and flicking his nail across Wooyoung’s nipples until Wooyoung whines around the mouthful of wet cotton.
When San starts making his way back down Wooyoung`s stomach, Wooyoung leans back so that his elbows are pressed into the mattress, watching San’s descent through lidded eyes. Wooyoung`s skin tingles with each brush of San’s lips and he groans as San flattens his tongue and licks a wet stripe from Wooyoung’s navel down to the waistband of his pants. They lock eyes as San’s fingers hook around the fabric and he raises an eyebrow questioningly. Wooyoung nods - so quickly it makes his neck hurt - and San grins as he pulls Wooyoung’s pants and briefs down in one fluid motion. He doesn’t ask Wooyoung to lift his hips so he can take them all the way off, not yet - instead, he moves them down just enough that Wooyoung’s achingly hard cock can spring free. The pants bunch right beneath his balls and he doesn’t even have the brain cells left to categorize it as mildly uncomfortable - especially not when San grips his shaft in his hand, leans over, and slowly lets the saliva pooling on his tongue drip down onto the head of Wooyoung’s cock.
Wooyoung thinks he might cum before San even gets his mouth around him.
San slides his hand up to drag his thumb through the mess of spit and precum, coating his palm in the sticky mixture before letting it slip back down again. He does this a few more times, slowly jerking off Wooyoung’s hard, angry dick, before moving closer to gently kitten lick at the tip. Wooyoung can’t help the way his hips jerk at the feeling and San’s free hand comes up to grip harshly at Wooyoung’s waist, anchoring him to the bed as San opens his mouth wider and sinks down until Wooyoung’s cock is hitting the back of his throat.
“Fuck!” Wooyoung groans, releasing his shirt from between his teeth. He is unprepared for the warm, all-encompassing feeling of being sheathed inside San’s throat. His head is spinning and he wants to ask a thousand questions - does San not have a gag reflex? If Wooyoung cums immediately, is that lame? Would San ever let him fuck his face? - but all of those thoughts become nonexistent as San starts to bob his head in a steady rhythm. His hand follows behind, jerking off the parts of Wooyoung’s cock that aren’t sitting on San’s tongue or fondling his balls for extra stimulation. The room is filled with wet slurping sounds and Wooyoung’s loud moans. Spit and precum pool at the corners of San’s mouth and run down his chin, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he hums around Wooyoung each time the other man makes a new sound, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, baby - baby, I’m gonna cum - I’m gonna - shit ,” Wooyoung barely has time to warn San before he releases inside his boyfriend’s warm mouth, his vision blurring as his orgasm takes over all of his senses. San works him through it, slowly bobbing and suckling at Wooyoung’s cock and pulling away before the stimulation can become overwhelming.
Wooyoung’s chest heaves with labored breaths as San stands up, crawling onto the mattress and situating himself so that he is straddling Wooyoung’s lap. He doesn’t say anything as he reaches for Wooyoung’s hand, bringing the open palm up to his lips and opening his mouth. Wooyoung can see the mixture of cum and spit waiting on his tongue, and he watches with wide eyes as it drips down from San’s mouth and into his hand. It should be gross - and it is a little - but it is also probably the hottest thing that Wooyoung has ever seen.
“Touch me,” San says before capturing Wooyoung’s mouth with his. San’s hands cup Wooyoung’s jaw and he kisses Wooyoung with so much need that it makes him breathless. He can taste himself in San’s mouth as the bitter, salty taste of cum invades his senses. Wooyoung shortcircuits for a moment before the command catches up with him, spurring him into action.
Wooyoung pushes San’s briefs down and wraps his cum-and-spit-lubed hand around San’s cock. He swallows down the pretty sounds San makes, drinking every moan and keen as he jerks him off with fast, tight strokes. San drops his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder, his warm breath brushing across Wooyoung’s neck as he pants. Wooyoung can feel his hips jerking forward as he tries to fuck into Wooyoung’s fist. The hand he has gripping the back of Wooyoung’s neck anchors in his hair, fingers tugging at the strands. It feels so good that Wooyoung moans, his sounds mixing with San’s own.
“Come on, baby,” Wooyoung says, pressing his mouth against San’s temple. He breathes him in, bathing himself in the scent of sex and San. “Come for me. Show me how much you love me.”
After a few more strokes and whispered words of encouragement, San lets out a choked groan when he cums, which he attempts to silence by biting harshly at the slope of Wooyoung’s shoulder as he paints Wooyoung’s stomach with ropes of white cum. Wooyoung feels his dick twitching valiantly at the sight and sound and feel of it, already preparing for round two.
San slumps bonelessly against him, one arm wrapped around Wooyoung’s shoulders and the other still knotted in his hair. Wooyoung releases his hold on San’s softening cock so that he can slide his hands around San’s back and hold him closer. He knows he’s rubbing the mixture of their two orgasms all over San’s skin, but he gets the feeling from San’s quiet, content breaths that he doesn’t mind.
“I love you,” San says, punctuating the words with a kiss pressed to the sensitive spot underneath Wooyoung’s ear.
Wooyoung hums, tightening his hold on San. They’ll have to get up soon to clean themselves off and find new clothes - or maybe not, depending on how the rest of the night goes - but Wooyoung wants to live in this moment for as long as he can, basking in the afterglow of mutual adoration and an amazing orgasm.
“Yeah,” he says as he smiles against San’s bare shoulder. “I love you, too.”
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆
On Thursday, Hongjoong gets a promotion, upgrading from assistant producer to head producer, and he invites them all out to eat okonomiyaki to celebrate.
“I’m buying, so get whatever you want!” He says, drunk on adrenaline and future paychecks. The Japanese restaurant is one of their favorites with a plethora of toppings and side dishes to choose from.
San thinks he’s playing a dangerous game with the current well-being of his wallet, but who is he to argue with a free meal? Wooyoung, who has put himself in charge of grilling the food for their side of the table while Seonghwa works the grill on the other side, piles all of the best pieces of pancake onto San’s plate (lots of pork, minimal vegetables). Whenever San thanks him for it, he just smiles softly and gives him more. He has moved his chair over so that he’s practically pressed against San’s side, their elbows bumping every time one of them reaches for something. San isn’t complaining about any of it - he’s just happy to have Wooyoung near him and he takes every opportunity he can to compliment his boyfriend on his cooking or to leave a kiss on his temple - but he can see Jongho staring at them from across the table like he’s watching a nature documentary in real life.
“Something’s different…” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes as he stabs at one of the pieces of okonomiyaki Wooyoung half-heartedly tossed onto his plate.
Wooyoung ignores him completely and San just shrugs while he takes a bite of rice.
“Jjong-ah, I think you’re imagining things,” Yeosang says, rubbing Jongho’s shoulder comfortingly. San knows that Yeosang knows that San and Wooyoung had sex - partly because Wooyoung tells his best friend everything and mostly because San was spooning Wooyoung when he sent Yeosang a message about it - but he doesn’t plan to point that out.
Wooyoung smirks as he puts the next pancake on Yeosang’s plate. “Here you go, baby.”
Jongho wraps his arm possessively around Yeosang’s shoulders, which Yeosang mostly ignores in favor of inhaling a big bite of his food. “Hey, leave my boyfriend alone.” His glare flickers between San and Wooyoung, sizing them up as he tries to figure out what's different about them. “Something is definitely up.”
“I agree with Jongho here,” Mingi says, leaning forward so he can stare at them from around Yunho’s tall frame. “You guys have been weird for days. Every time I come back to the apartment, you're either hanging off of each other or locked in Wooyoung’s room. What’s up with you?”
Hongjoong sighs, drawing the attention of the table. “They obviously fucked,” he says with a grimace. “Which is not exactly something I thought I’d be saying today.”
There’s a moment of silence at the table as everyone processes the news. Then hell breaks loose as they are bombarded with questions and loud shouting, their friends far too invested in finding out who initiated it and how big San’s dick is. San wants to laugh - he’s not sure why any of them having sex is a big deal, they aren’t 15 - but he also can feel heat creeping up the back of his neck at all of the attention. He’s not embarrassed in any way; honestly, being able to say he’s had sex (multiple times) with Jung Wooyoung is an honor and a privilege. But still, he’s not exactly sure he wants to be talking about his sex life in the middle of a family restaurant.
Beside him, Wooyoung is unphased by the attention. He answers every question thrown their way without hesitation - I initiated but Sannie definitely took charge, it was so hot; it’s soooo big, Yuyu, my baby is hung - and continues to work the grill like this is all very run-of-the-mill. He stops talking after Mingi asks for details (“And make them explicit ”), replying only with a smirk and a whispered “That’s a secret.”
“Alright, please, end my misery,” Hongjoong says, groaning loudly as if he’s actually in pain. “Congrats on fucking, but can we please never speak about it again?”
“I would genuinely rather eat my own eyeballs than ever hear anything else about San’s ‘thick, veiny cock’,” Jongho adds.
San drops his head into his hands, his neck and ears and cheeks burning. “Please stop talking about my dick,” he whines.
Everyone laughs, but the conversation ends after that, returning to something much more PG and suited for public spaces. A warm weight settles on his back and San looks up from his hands to see Wooyoung grinning at him.
“You doin' okay there, babe?”
San narrows his eyes, but there’s no real anger or malice in his glare. “Did you have to tell them everything ?”
Wooyoung shrugs. “They would have kept asking if we didn’t,” he says. He leans over to rest his head on San’s shoulder, his cooking spatula abandoned on the table next to the empty plates where the toppings had been. “Plus, I want everyone to know how good you are to me, Sannie. You’re the best boyfriend in every way possible, so of course I want to brag about that.”
San smiles and turns to press a kiss against the crown of Wooyoung’s head. He still thinks the entire conversation is ridiculous and maybe their whole friend group should reevaluate how invested they are in each other’s lives, but he gets where Wooyoung is coming from - he also wants the whole world to know how lucky he is to call Wooyoung his.
He’s been in love with Wooyoung for six years, five months, and twelve days. He has longed for and pined after and cherished the man beside him for so long, he thinks it’s become a fundamental part of who he is. San can barely remember what life was like before Wooyoung stumbled, sweaty and out of breath, into his freshman trigonometry class.
And when Wooyoung lifts his head from San’s shoulder to kiss his cheek softly before rejoining the conversation happening around the little bubble they had been living in, San can’t imagine his life having gone any other way.
San giggles to himself as he comes to the conclusion that he traded a pen for the love of his life. A small sacrifice for a lifetime of happiness.
Beat that, Mr. Darcy.