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Walking into Hongjoong’s studio to find his captain crying immediately rewrites San’s plans for the day.
“Hyung!” San gasps. He stops dead and lets the door swing shut behind him.
“San?” Hongjoong looks up with teary eyes. He’s sitting in his desk chair, making a face like he’s trying to will the tears on his cheeks to go back up into his eyes.
San resists the urge to run to Hongjoong and sweep him up in a hug. That would almost certainly get San kicked out without even learning why Hongjoong is so upset. Instead, he approaches much like he would approach a nervous stray cat: slowly, steadily, and with his hands visible at all times. Thankfully, Hongjoong doesn’t bolt in the time it takes San to cross the room and crouch down at his side.
“Hyung, what’s wrong?” San asks. His hands ache to touch but he keeps them to himself, just hovering at Hongjoong’s side. There’s a downtempo, melancholic song playing over the speakers that San vaguely recognizes from a drama soundtrack.
“Nothing,” Hongjoong says. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve, sniffs, and then waves a dismissive hand in San’s direction. “I’m fine.”
San frowns. Hongjoong never wants to burden the members with his own feelings so the brush-off was expected, but there are still tears actively escaping his eyes. Fine seems like an understatement at best and San won’t be shooed away so easily.
“Something’s wrong.” San takes a risk and carefully lays a hand on Hongjoong’s knee. “Hyung, you can tell me. It’s not a burden. Or… should I get Yunho? Would that be better?” As much as he wants Hongjoong to open up to him, their captain is reticent at the best of times. Bringing in the cavalry may be necessary.
“No, no!” Hongjoong laughs, and it’s a little wet sounding. “I swear I’m fine. I’m just having an emotional day.”
“Oh… kay?” Since he hasn’t been shaken off, San cautiously moves his hand in soothing circles on Hongjoong’s knee. “Did something happen?”
Hongjoong wipes his face on his damp sleeves again. San surreptitiously glances around for some tissues — he spots them on a shelf across the room and bounces up to retrieve them before returning to a crouch at Hongjoong’s chair. Hongjoong snags a few tissues from the box and blows his nose loudly.
“Nothing happened,” Hongjoong says. He takes another tissue and dabs at his puffy eyes. “I just put on some sad music. I blocked off the next hour to be emotional and cry.”
San nods, though he doesn’t quite understand. San is only sad when he needs to be sad. He’s no stranger to letting it out when it’s necessary. But he doesn’t really seek sadness — or schedule his crying sessions. But Hongjoong’s brain works in peculiar, brilliant ways. Maybe it’s part of his creative process or something. San feels like he shouldn’t question it.
“Do you want a hug?” San asks.
“What?” Hongjoong asks, as if San is the one being weird right now.
San shrugs. “Would that mess up the energy of your emotional day? Do you need to be sad and without hugs?”
Hongjoong actually considers it. The moment he makes a decision is broadcasted in a tiny shift of his expression and the slump of his shoulders, as if he’s released a long breath. San perks up before Hongjoong even says, “Okay, we can hug.”
“Okay!” San smiles, and Hongjoong smiles back on instinct before he can catch himself.
Hongjoong is still in his chair with no indication of relocating, and San is squat in front of him awkwardly. He rolls to his knees instead, kneeling between Hongjoong’s splayed feet. From there, he leans in and wraps his arms around Hongjoong’s waist, pitching forward to face-plant against his chest.
Hongjoong is much more hesitant as he returns the hug. He wraps his arms around San’s shoulders, loosely at first. When San squeezes him gently around the waist, Hongjoong tightens his hold in return and pulls him closer. San hums, closing his eyes and resisting the urge to rub his face against Hongjoong’s sweater.
“This is nice,” San says, muffled. “You smell nice. Is this the perfume Wooyoung gave you?”
“San-ah.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s just be quiet for a bit.”
San goes silent. He won’t push it; he’s honestly surprised he hasn’t been shoved away yet. Maybe emotional days mean Hongjoong’s tolerance level for contact is a little higher, because he’s allowing San to cling for much longer than expected.
Instead, Hongjoong shocks him by allowing even more — he rests his head against the top of San’s. He even releases a little contented sigh. Hongjoong’s sad playlist is still quietly filling the air, and they unconsciously sway to the melody like there’s a gentle breeze moving through the room.
After a while, Hongjoong’s chest stutters with a shaky breath. He sniffles and his fingers dig a little sharply into San’s shoulders. He’s definitely wetting San’s hair with tears. San doesn’t mind. His eyes are damp too, and a few tears escape to soak into Hongjoong’s sweater. He’s not really sad, but Hongjoong’s emotions are contagious and it feels right to let himself feel it too. It’s kind of romantic.
Eventually though, San’s knees start killing him. He didn’t think ahead with the position of this hug, not expecting Hongjoong to let it last very long at all. Still, he waits for Hongjoong’s breathing to settle and sniffling to die down. He doesn’t want to interrupt.
“Hyung,” San finally whispers. He loosens his hold on Hongjoong but doesn’t move back yet. “I have to move. My knees…”
“Oh,” Hongjoong says. He detangles himself from San stiffly and blinks down at him, like he’s just realizing San has been knelt on the hard floor this entire time. “Sorry, San.”
“It’s okay!” San says. He stands to shake out his legs and the ache dissipates.
Hongjoong looks smaller with San standing over him, looking down at him. His eyes are red and puffy, and his skin is blotchy from crying. San offers him the tissues again and Hongjoong takes one to dry his face.
“Thanks,” Hongjoong says. He clears his throat, throws away the tissues, clears his throat again. “I think I’m done, anyways.”
“You don’t have to be!” San says quickly. He’s not ready for this bubble to burst. “I mean…” He glances around the small room. “We could maybe, um… the couch? To lie down? Be more comfortable?”
Hongjoong raises one questioning eyebrow at him. It’s the kind of look that usually requires nothing else to make San backtrack and say nevermind, ha ha. But San holds strong. He meets Hongjoong’s gaze with a hopeful, probably too-eager smile.
“You want to… just lie down?” Hongjoong eventually says. “Together?”
San nods. “We can keep being emotional. You still have your sad music on.”
This emotional day must really be taking a toll, because after a long pause that has San shifting anxiously on his feet — somehow Hongjoong agrees with a tired, hesitant nod. San scrambles to the couch and splays across it lengthwise before Hongjoong can change his mind.
“You’re really going to take up the whole couch,” Hongjoong says dryly.
San pats his lap enticingly. “It’ll be the most comfortable like this!”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes as he stands. His approach is awkward and self-conscious; clearly he doesn’t know how to lay himself on the couch with San already there, much less lay himself most of the way on San. He finally plants one knee between San’s legs — San briefly worries about taking a hit to something tender — and braces a hand on the back of the couch.
Hongjoong looks down at him from there, his expression twisting up oddly. “Ah, this is kind of…”
“Don’t think about it so much,” San says.
Hongjoong hmphs and glares, but he finally lowers himself to tuck against San’s side on the couch. From there, San pulls him close so they’re lying nearly chest-to-chest. It’s still like having a small, prickly weighted blanket.
San hums such a happy, contented sigh once Hongjoong is in his arms that he gets laughed at. But he can’t help it. Having Hongjoong cuddled up to him is bliss. Even when Hongjoong shifts around and San catches an elbow in the ribs that makes him swear, it’s bliss. Hongjoong’s head ends up on San’s shoulder, the perfect position for San to bury his nose in Hongjoong’s hair. And maybe San’s lips are pursed in the barest suggestion of a kiss against the top of Hongjoong’s head, though it’s not nearly kiss-like enough to be noticed.
“See?” San says. He rubs his hands in rhythmic circles on Hongjoong’s back. “Don’t you think it’s more comfortable to cry like this?”
“I’m not crying,” Hongjoong says.
“You can if you want to,” San says.
“Mmhm.” Hongjoong rubs his face on San’s shoulder, digging his chin in for a moment to make him yelp. “You could be a good pillow instead of an idol.”
“Hey!” San pouts.
Hongjoong laughs and looks up at San with a pointy smile.
San has to close his eyes, because he wants to kiss Hongjoong so badly it hurts. If he tried anything suddenly, San knows he’d never get Hongjoong cuddling privileges ever again. But he wants so much. And Hongjoong is looking up at him, and no one is crying anymore but his eyes are still a little red, and his lips are chapped with dehydration, and San just can’t believe how much Hongjoong is trusting him right now, and he really can’t help himself.
“Hyung… can we kiss, too?” San asks.
Hongjoong huffs, but the corners of his mouth are still curling up with a smile. “I can’t give you an inch…”
“Nope.” San smiles.
Hongjoong thinks about it for a minute, but it’s not an instant no and just that has San’s heart racing. They’re already touching nearly from head to toe, far beyond Hongjoong’s usual boundaries, and maybe that’s lowered his inhibitions.
Eventually he says, “Alright. Just a kiss.”
San nods very seriously. Zero funny business, just a kiss. From his captain. From Hongjoong. Oh, he could faint, but he definitely needs to be conscious for this.
Hongjoong leans up with a determined pout on his mouth. He presses his lips to San’s with one quick movement, giving him a chaste, dry kiss. San doesn’t have the chance to do anything but accept it — and the contact still sends little zings! of electricity down his spine. Hongjoong really kissed him. On purpose, and there’s not even a camera in the room. San is on cloud nine.
Hongjoong’s brows furrow. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“...Because you kissed me?” San says.
“I barely kissed you,” Hongjoong says, which is a strange argument to start. San doesn’t try to figure that one out.
“I’m happy with any kind of kiss from hyung,” San says honestly.
Hongjoong looks away suddenly, face pinched. San waits for a long moment, rubbing his hands over Hongjoong’s shoulders. When Hongjoong looks at him again, he has a focused set to his brows, the fiery kind San usually only sees directed at work.
“We can kiss more,” Hongjoong says, with a firm authority that leaves no room for argument. And then, “If you want to.”
“I want to. As much as you’ll let me,” San says.
Hongjoong covers his face for a brief moment. His skin reddens behind his fingers. “Stop saying things like that or I’ll change my mind.”
San nods, because if he opens his mouth he might keep saying things like that. It’s not really in his control. But Hongjoong leans in with that focused look and kisses him again. It’s just as brief as the first time, and so is the third, and fourth kiss he pecks on San’s lips. San almost, almost whines about it. But he knows Hongjoong would only enjoy torturing him more if he gives a reaction, so he tries to stay quiet. Finally, when Hongjoong kisses him again, more firmly, San has the chance to actually respond in kind.
San wants to impress Hongjoong, wants to pull out all the stops so he doesn’t have a single regret about letting San kiss him. But Hongjoong is controlling the pace, and he’s keeping it slow. It feels like ages before he lets San really kiss back, but when he does, San takes every opportunity he’s given. Hongjoong’s mouth yields so nicely as San steers the kiss somewhere a bit less composed. He even lets San gently slip past his lips with tongue, tasting him thoroughly.
When Hongjoong’s hands start wandering over San’s shoulders and through his hair, San figures he can roam a bit too. He cards a hand through Hongjoong’s bleached hair and over the curve of his shoulder, across his back and teasingly down his spine. San lingers at his waist for a long moment, just holding Hongjoong close to him as they kiss.
Eventually, he dares to stray further. He manages to cop approximately one feel of Hongjoong’s ass before his hand is plucked off of his prize.
“I thought we were just kissing,” Hongjoong says, pulling away.
“We are!” San says quickly. “I only wanted to…” For lack of a better explanation, he makes a vulgar grabby motion with his hand in Hongjoong’s direction. Hongjoong’s face twists up with something between a laugh and a cringe, and San laughs. “Yours is so nice!”
Hongjoong stares him down, considering, and eventually huffs a long, put-upon sigh. He takes San’s hand and leads it back, delicately placing San’s palm on his ass. At some point in the journey, embarrassment creeps up over his face. He can’t quite meet San’s eyes anymore. When San gives an experimental squeeze, the noise Hongjoong makes would best be described as a squeak. It’s amazing, and so is the way Hongjoong tries to glare at him after, the effect dulled significantly with… everything about him right now. His mouth is all pouty and wet and tempting, and he looks almost dazed from San’s attention.
“Wow,” San says at the sight of him, and more generally at the situation. He’s still in shock, he can’t help staring. He squeezes Hongjoong’s ass again for good measure. “Wow…”
Hongjoong wrinkles his nose. “Stop,” he says, and then covers San’s eyes with one tiny hand.
San doesn’t get the chance to complain or even say anything at all, because Hongjoong follows that by kissing him again, muffling San’s delighted noises of surprise. It’s a little more heated, a little forceful — and if this is what embarrassing Hongjoong does, then San might have to try his luck a bit more often.
See, kissing Hongjoong is intoxicating all on its own, but knowing Hongjoong is enjoying it? San might actually explode. He wants to remember every time Hongjoong sighs sweetly into his mouth, or presses in closer, or tightens his hold on San’s hair, occasionally tugging to angle him differently.
The heat simmers, though never quite boils. San greedily relocates both hands to Hongjoong’s ass, but he’s careful not to push any more than that. Whenever Hongjoong pauses to breathe, San peppers kisses anywhere he can reach, because the novelty of getting to freely dole out affection just doesn’t get old, even when Hongjoong scoffs and wrinkles his nose at it. San doesn’t know how he could go back to a world where Hongjoong doesn’t accept his love. He’s sure to soak in every second of it for now.
Eventually, Hongjoong’s playlist ends and they’re left only with the hum of the air-con. At some point after that, Hongjoong pulls away to yawn in his face. San snorts.
“Tired?” San asks, an obvious question that Hongjoong only dignifies with a flat look.
“We should…” Hongjoong starts, yawns again, and continues, “We should probably go back to the dorms.”
“Well, you said I make a good pillow…” San tries.
Hongjoong shakes his head. “I can’t keep holding you hostage here.”
“But I’m offering?” San says. He really, really does not want to move. But he’ll leave if Hongjoong wants him to.
“Hm… okay,” Hongjoong says.
San’s eyebrows jump up. It’s surprisingly little argument, for once. Hongjoong shifts around for a moment, stretching his legs back out from where he’d knelt over San for kissing leverage, and tucks his head back against San’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Sannie,” Hongjoong mumbles into San's shirt. He already sounds halfway asleep, but he hums contentedly when San kisses his forehead.
San can only hold him closer and drift off too.