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Jaemin spots Jeno as he’s walking home from his night class.
Jaemin doesn’t look for him―really, he doesn’t―but he tends to stick to his home turf, and he has friends who take night classes that he’d rather not get mugged, thanks. Like Renjun, for instance, even if he doesn’t actually have class today. Donghyuck does, but he could stand to get roughed up a little, in Jaemin’s humble opinion. He’d probably let the asshole land a punch or two before he stepped in.
At the moment, no one is getting assaulted or harassed or otherwise victimized, and Jaemin has been mind-numbingly bored for the past hour at least. He’s sitting on the edge of a nearby rooftop, swinging his legs absentmindedly just to keep his body warm because it’s cold as balls this high up in the middle of winter. A little physical activity would do him good, and nobody gets his blood pumping quite like Jeno.
He flips his hood up, pulls his mask down over his face and hops off the roof, slowing his landing with a line of webbing shot at an awning on the way down. His bright red Converse hi-tops hit the pavement with a dull thwack a foot in front of Jeno. “Hey, gorgeous,” Jaemin says easily as Jeno looks up from his phone. “Come here often?” It’s corny, and Jaemin knows the answer, because they have chem lab together twice a week. Jeno doesn’t know that, though―doesn’t even know Jaemin exists, probably. He only knows the hero, not the boy behind the persona.
Case in point: Jeno pockets his phone and levels Jaemin with a look that says you can’t keep doing this. “Listen, Scarlet Spider―”
Jaemin cuts him off before he can voice the thought aloud. “Please, how many times have we been over this? Only reporters call me that. You can call me Spidey.” He smiles, ever the charmer, but the mask kind of kills the effect.
Jeno shakes his head like he can’t believe this is his life, getting stuck in the middle of some misguided courting ritual with a guy whose real name he doesn’t even know. Jaemin would be more sympathetic if he hadn’t already lived through the arguably more distressing crisis of suddenly acquiring superpowers and swearing to protect his shitty neighbourhood from evil. Or like, car jackers. He gets a lot of that, even knows some of them by name. Mark Lee’s his favourite.
“―you know?” Jeno is saying, and no, Jaemin does not know. He’s too busy staring at the mole under Jeno’s right eye, and the way his freshly dyed hair blows into his face with every little gust of wind. It’s blue this time, electric and bright just like Jeno himself is.
“Nope,” Jaemin admits truthfully, earning him a lighthearted eye roll from Jeno. He’s used to it by now. “But, hey, I was thinking,” Jaemin continues, stepping forward to sling an arm across Jeno’s shoulders. “It’s late, and this is a pretty shady area. I should probably walk you home. Buddy system, and all that.”
Jeno shrugs Jaemin’s arm off, eyeing him skeptically as he starts walking in the direction of his crappy little apartment a couple blocks from campus. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Or like, more important?” He doesn’t bother mentioning the fact that this neighbourhood is, in fact, not at all dangerous.
“Well, I would,” Jaemin concedes as he falls into step beside Jeno, shoving his hood off his head so it flops back onto his shoulders. “But the damn firefighters keep beating me to it. Rescuing cats from trees is a full time job, y’know. At least they get paid for it.” He picks at the oversized black spider logo across his chest as he easily dodges a half-frozen puddle on the sidewalk.
Jeno, on the other hand, does not miss the ice and nearly falls on his ass as his foot skids out from under him. Jaemin reaches out to grab him by the arm and yanks him upright, inadvertently pressing Jeno against his body in the process. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” Jaemin asks, holding his free arm out in a clear offering.
Jeno straightens himself up, stepping cautiously around the rest of the puddle as he says, “I’m good, thanks.” Jaemin doesn’t let go of his arm, and Jeno doesn’t leave his side.
“Oh, c’mon,” Jaemin all but whines. “Let me swing you off your feet.” He winks, but it’s not like Jeno can see it through the spandex. It’s the thought that counts, he tells himself.
Jeno looks thoroughly unimpressed as he steps forward, effectively dragging Jaemin along with him. “Dude, that was bad, even for you.”
Jaemin shrugs goodnaturedly. “I just wanna hang out with you, Jen,” he says, voice sticky sweet. It probably sounds a lot less sincere than it is, jokes aside.
Jeno doesn’t grace that with a response―not even a chuckle, or one of those amused nose exhales, even though Jaemin is totally hilarious, obviously. He just trudges onward through the winter slush, and honestly, this is one of the main reasons Jaemin prefers web-swinging over mundane modes of transportation like walking. The moisture soaks through his canvas shoes, the thin fabric of his suit is uncomfortably damp, and he can already tell his balls are chafing with all the friction from the tight spandex. On top of that, the only semi-warm part of him is his chest, covered by the fleece of his cutoff hoodie. It is, in fact, the world’s most useless sweatshirt. It doesn’t even have sleeves, for fuck’s sake.
He doesn’t complain, though. How could he, when he gets to spend a whole ten minutes alone with the Jeno Lee, also known as his crush since junior year of high school and the smartest and most beautiful person on the planet? Jaemin’s learned to count his blessings, and this is one of them. He’s so glad he saved Jeno from falling to his death a couple months back―it was very stressful, and a very close call, and if he never goes through that again, it’ll be too soon―for all the obvious reasons, but also because it made Jeno see him for the first time. Like, really see him, even if it is just through the mask. Jaemin will take what he can get.
Which is why, when they approach Jeno’s building, he finally drops Jeno’s arm and puts some distance between them, backpedaling a couple steps to let Jeno go. He flips his hood back on, offers Jeno a playful little salute, and bids him farewell for the night. Jeno doesn’t say anything as Jaemin shoots a line of web up to the roof, pulling himself up to the floor above Jeno’s apartment. Jaemin barely lands on the ledge before Jeno’s calling him back down with a whisper.
“Spidey!” he breathes, leaning over the side of the balcony in front of his apartment, arms braced on the railing so he doesn’t fall. He must know Jaemin can easily hear him as he stands there patiently, waiting for Jaemin to come back to him.
Jaemin will always come back to him. It takes him a moment to process the fact that Jeno’s finally called him the nickname which, contrary to what Jaemin may say, is reserved only for Jeno. He takes it as a good sign, a hint of familiarity. That’s all Jaemin’s ever wanted, was for Jeno to let him in.
He dives from the rooftop, launching a strand of web up to the top story, swinging forward to hang eye to eye with Jeno. Jeno doesn’t say anything, just watches Jaemin hover there, watches the rise and fall of his chest as he waits for Jeno to do something―anything. Jaemin doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it is decidedly not for Jeno to reach out and frame the hinges of his jaw with shaky hands, eyebrows raised in a silent question. “Can I―Can I see your face?” he asks, just to be sure.
Jaemin’s heart does a flip behind his sternum and he worries his lip between his teeth. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says after a few tense moments of deliberation. Jeno’s face immediately falls, pink dusting his cheeks, and Jaemin wants to punch himself for making Jeno feel embarrassed. Jeno moves to release Jaemin’s face, but Jaemin shifts to grip his web in one hand, sliding the other over one of Jeno’s to hold it against his cheek. “Sorry, gorgeous. The mask comes with the territory.” It’s a fragile excuse, a sad attempt to hide Jaemin’s terror at the prospect of rejection as soon as Jeno learns who he really is. If he even knows who Jaemin is―the alternative would be so much more devastating. Jaemin is brave, but not that brave.
“I get it,” Jeno says softly, thumb stroking Jaemin’s cheekbone through the fabric. “Can I have a hint, at least?”
Jaemin isn’t entirely sure what he means by that, but he nods, anyway. He moves his hand off of Jeno’s and back to his web, readjusting to balance himself again. Jeno takes his hands from Jaemin’s jaw just long enough to fold the hem of his mask over the bottom half of his face, exposing Jaemin’s chin and mouth to the chilly night air. It’s not much of a clue, Jaemin thinks―he does have some pretty distinct canines, but Jeno can’t see his teeth. Jaemin just looks at him, face blank, and waits for Jeno to say something.
Only Jeno doesn’t speak. He just pauses for one pounding heartbeat before surging forward, supporting Jaemin’s head with a hand on the nape of his neck, the other tangled in the material of his hoodie to pull him closer and crash their lips together. Jaemin doesn’t react at first―can’t react―but when his brain finally reboots, he returns Jeno’s kiss with an ardor unmatched. It’s sort of an awkward angle, and Jaemin can’t really breathe between the mask over his nose and Jeno occupying his mouth, but he can’t find it in himself to care. The way Jeno runs his tongue over Jaemin’s bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth is enough to fuel all of Jaemin’s wet dreams for the foreseeable future.
Jaemin feels blissed out, a little dizzy, all from just a kiss. Well, actually, the lightheadedness might have more to it than that. He breaks away to come up for air, panting as he says, “This has been fun, but I gotta go.” Jeno looks a bit disappointed, but mostly dazed. Jaemin knows the feeling. “All this blood rushing to my head is gonna make me pass out if kissing you doesn’t do me in first.”
The cheesy line snaps Jeno out of it, and he rolls his eyes as Jaemin rights himself, landing silently to perch on the balcony rail so his brain is no longer flooded with blood. Actually, he’s pretty sure most of it has gone farther south, straight to his dick, and this stupid suit does not hide anything. He’ll die if Jeno sees that he popped a boner from two minutes of kissing with tongue. Which is precisely why he busies himself with pulling the rest of his mask over his face, tucking it into the collar of his suit, and makes to leave.
Before he can get the fuck out of dodge, Jeno grabs him by the hoodie strings, pulling him down to eye level and half-strangling him in the process before planting one last kiss on him right through the mask. “See you tomorrow?” Jeno asks as he lets go of the strings, allowing Jaemin free range of motion―and unobstructed air flow―once again.
Jaemin smiles even though Jeno can’t see it. “I’ll be here whenever you need me,” he says, and he means it. He offers Jeno one last glance over his shoulder before he jumps into the night. He’s a solid twenty feet away by the time Jeno says it, but he hears it loud and clear, just like Jeno knows he will even if he’s whispering.
“Thanks, Jaemin.”
Jaemin doesn’t faceplant into a telephone pole after that, but he does come dangerously close.