Chapter Text
Jun knew something was wrong the moment the dorm hallway was too quiet.
Mars dorms were never quiet in the mornings—someone was always blasting music, Nano was always laughing too loudly, Pepper was usually arguing with Thame over something dumb. But today? Silence. Suspicious. Jun shuffled toward the kitchen, still half-awake, hair a mess, rubbing at his eyes… and froze.
Dylan was standing there. Dylan Zhou, who usually looked like he stepped out of a magazine even at 8 AM, currently had sleepy eyes, messy bedhead, and the faintest pout tugging at his lips. But that wasn’t the shocking part. No. It was the pajamas. Soft, pastel blue. Covered in tiny Cinnamoroll prints. Jun blinked once. Twice. “…Wow.”
Dylan didn’t even look at him at first, just poured himself a glass of water like this was completely normal. “What.”
Jun pressed his lips together, trying—and failing—not to grin. “You,” he started, voice already betraying him, “look like a kitten.” That got a reaction. Dylan turned slowly, eyes narrowing—but there was something off. His usual cold edge wasn’t quite landing when his hair was sticking up and his cheeks were still faintly flushed from sleep. “…Don’t call me that.”
Jun leaned against the counter, fully awake now, eyes sparkling. “Why not, kitten?” Dylan’s pout deepened. Actually deepened. Jun felt something in his chest flip. “I said don’t,” Dylan muttered, looking away as he took a sip of water. “It’s weird.”
“Mm,” Jun hummed, stepping a little closer. “You’re the one dressed like that. What am I supposed to say?”
Dylan glanced down at his pajamas like he forgot what he was wearing—and immediately stiffened. “…They were clean.”
“Sure,” Jun said lightly. “And the matching set was necessary?” Dylan didn’t answer. Which, for Dylan, was basically an admission. Jun laughed under his breath, softer now. “You’re cute.” That did it. Dylan’s ears went red.
“I’m going back to bed,” he said quickly, already turning.
“Goodnight, kitty,” Jun called after him. The way Dylan stumbled slightly before disappearing into his room? Yeah. Jun was done for.
The problem was, it didn’t stop there. Jun didn’t let it stop there. All day, every chance he got: “Pass me that, kitten?”
“Careful, kitty.”
“You’re pouting again.”
And every single time, Dylan reacted. A twitch. A glare that didn’t quite land. A flustered “shut up.” It was addicting. By the afternoon, Nano had definitely noticed.
“Why does Dylan look like he wants to throw a chair at you?” Nano whispered.
Jun smirked. “He doesn’t.” Across the room, Dylan shot him a look. Jun tilted his head sweetly. “You okay, kitty?” Dylan choked on his drink. Pepper burst out laughing.
Thame sighed. “We’re never getting peace again, are we?” Po, sitting beside him, just smiled knowingly.
Later that night, things were quieter again. Jun found Dylan on the couch, scrolling on his phone, back in his usual all-black, composed self. But Jun knew better now. He sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. Dylan didn’t move away. “…What,” Dylan said, not looking up.
Jun leaned in just slightly. “Nothing.” A pause. Then, softer this time. “Hey, kitten.”
Dylan froze. Slowly, he turned his head. There was still that familiar annoyed expression—but underneath it, faint and undeniable, was warmth. Embarrassment. Something softer. “…You’re not funny,” Dylan muttered.
Jun grinned. “You’re still reacting.”
“…Shut up.” But he didn’t move away. And Jun, watching the way Dylan’s pout kept threatening to come back, felt that same flip in his chest again. Dangerous. Very, very dangerous. Still “…Goodnight, kitty.” Dylan huffed, but this time, quieter.
“…Goodnight, idiot.” Jun smiled. Yeah. He was absolutely not stopping anytime soon.
Jun had learned his lesson. Or, at least, he thought he had. Which is why, the next morning, he was fully prepared to walk into the kitchen, grab coffee, and not stare at Dylan like an idiot.That plan lasted exactly three seconds. Because Dylan walked out of his room, and Jun’s brain just… stopped working.
Pink. Soft pink. My Melody this time. A matching set again, slightly oversized, sleeves covering part of his hands. His hair was even messier than yesterday, and his eyes were barely open, like he’d just rolled out of bed and didn’t even realize what he looked like.
Jun gripped the edge of the counter. Oh, that’s That’s worse. So much worse. Because now Jun knew what that sleepy pout looked like up close. Knew how Dylan reacted when he got flustered. Knew exactly how red his ears would get if— Jun inhaled sharply. Do not think about that. Dylan yawned, rubbing at his eye, completely unaware. Jun’s thoughts immediately betrayed him.
I could just— Nope. Absolutely not. Jun dragged a hand through his hair, forcing himself to stay where he was instead of doing something incredibly stupid like stepping closer. Why does he look like that first thing in the morning? Does he have any idea what he’s doing? No, he definitely doesn’t. Which somehow made it worse.
Dylan glanced over, still half-asleep. “What.” Jun’s gaze dropped for a second—to the oversized sleeves, the way the fabric shifted when he moved—then snapped back up. Focus.
“You,” Jun said, voice a little rougher than he meant it to be, “are unbelievable.”
Dylan frowned. “I just woke up.”
“Yeah,” Jun muttered, almost to himself. “I can tell.” Dylan squinted at him, suspicious now. Jun shouldn’t have smiled. But he did. Because if he didn’t turn this into teasing, his brain was going to keep going down a very dangerous path, one where he was already imagining what it would be like to close that small distance, to see that pout up close again, to.. Stop. “Morning, kitten.”
Dylan froze. There it was. That reaction. That tiny, involuntary shift. Jun felt it hit him straight in the chest. I’m actually going to lose it. Because now all he could think about was how easy it would be to make Dylan fluster like that again. How close he could get before Dylan pushed him away. Whether he even would. Jun leaned back against the counter, forcing space between them for his own sanity.
Yeah. No. I need distance. Immediately. Dylan turned away with a quiet, annoyed sound—but his ears were already turning red. Jun watched for a second too long. Then looked away, exhaling slowly. If he keeps walking around like this, I’m going to do something stupid. And the worst part? A small, reckless part of him didn’t entirely hate that idea.
Jun lasted the entire day. Barely. Because once you’ve seen Dylan Zhou in one soft pajama set, apparently that wasn’t enough. No. Dylan had options. Which Jun unfortunately learned when he pushed open Dylan’s door that night without thinking too hard about it and froze. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dylan, sitting on his bed, looked up. This time it was a different set again. Soft, pastel—another Sanrio character, loose sleeves, the same just-woke-up softness lingering even this late at night. Jun shut the door behind him slowly. “You have more.”
It wasn’t a question. Dylan hesitated for half a second. “…So what.” Jun let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand down his face. Of course he does. Of course this is my life now.
“How many,” Jun asked, stepping closer despite himself.
Dylan watched him carefully now. “Why do you care?” Jun stopped in front of him. That was a good question. A really good question. One he did not have a safe answer for. Because all day, Jun had been dealing with the same problem, every glance, every tiny reaction, every pout, every flicker of embarrassment. It had built up. And now, standing this close, seeing Dylan like this again… Jun exhaled, quieter this time.
“Because you keep looking like that,” he said.
Dylan blinked. “Like what.”
Jun didn’t answer right away. He just looked at him—really looked at him—and something in his expression must’ve shifted, because Dylan didn’t immediately snap back this time. “…Jun?” Dylan said, a little softer. That did it.
Jun moved before he could overthink it. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t planned. He just leaned in and pressed a quick, warm kiss to Dylan’s cheek. Dylan went completely still. Jun paused for half a second, like he was waiting to be shoved away. It didn’t happen. So his brain, already hanging by a thread, made a decision. A very bad one. Or a very good one. He leaned in again, another soft kiss, just beside the first.
“…Jun—” There was no real protest in it. Jun huffed out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh slipping through, and then he was doing it again. Light, quick kisses across Dylan’s face, his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, careless and a little overwhelming in the way he just… didn’t stop.
“Jun,” Dylan tried again, but this time there was a smile breaking through it. That made Jun falter. Just enough to look at him properly. Dylan wasn’t pushing him away. He wasn’t glaring. If anything, he looked—Jun’s heart stuttered—soft.
Dylan’s eyes had gone a little unfocused, his earlier annoyance completely gone, replaced with something warmer, quieter. And he was smiling. Actually smiling. “…You’re ridiculous,” Dylan murmured, but he leaned forward just slightly, like he was meeting him halfway instead of backing off.
That was all the permission Jun needed. He laughed under his breath, softer now, resting his forehead briefly against Dylan’s. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I know.” A beat. Then, gentler this time, one last kiss to his cheek. Dylan’s hand caught lightly at his sleeve before he could pull back completely. Jun stilled.
“…You’re not allowed to make fun of me tomorrow,” Dylan said, still a little flushed.
Jun raised an eyebrow. “No promises, kitten.”
Dylan huffed—but didn’t let go. And Jun, still too close, smiling in a way he couldn’t quite hide, realized he really was in trouble now. Because this? This wasn’t just teasing anymore.