Work Text:
But somewhere there’s a light,
A sign that it’s alright,
I find it by your side
“What are you making?”
Minho startles at Jisung’s call and whips around, but he softens his expression into a smile when he realizes it’s only Jisung staring back at him. “Did you really break into my family’s home?”
“You know it.”
Minho snorts and turns back around, disregarding Jisung’s presence, and focuses on whatever he has on the stove in front of him. It doesn’t deter Jisung and he saunters up to Minho and peers over his shoulder. There’s a pot of elbow pasta on the stove but the individual pieces still look hard, as if Minho had just dumped them in. “Let me guess, mac and cheese? Easy way out, Min.”
It’s a long-standing joke between them that Minho can’t cook - they’ve been friends since Minho was fourteen and Jisung thirteen, so they have plenty of outlandish stories about each other.
“Shove off,” Minho says, and promptly elbows Jisung in the stomach and shuffles over to the island where his family keeps a portable speaker. His phone is lying next to it, and Jisung watches as Minho connects the devices and then picks a song.
It takes Jisung a few moments to recognize the song but when he does he laughs. “Bad Suns? Daft Pretty Boys?”
“Shut up,” Minho grumbles as he sets his phone down, but the action is positively adorable to Jisung. “You like them too.”
You’re so fucking cute, is what Jisung mutters under his breath but instead of answering Minho’s questioning eyes he takes him by the hand to tug him closer. “Dance with me.”
Minho, who is now just less than a foot from him, blinks at him in surprise. “Don’t you have something better to do than harass me in my own kitchen? Something like preparing for your senior year?”
“High school can wait,” Jisung says, brushing away the topic, and begins to bounce around to the music while all the while keeping a tight hold on Minho’s hand. He knows he’s not a good dancer and it’s proven true when Minho starts giggling at him, but Jisung figures it’s alright because Minho smiling is somehow a little more than everything to him.
“Jiji,” Minho calls when the song has begun to die out. He’s migrated even closer to be just inches from Jisung, and the use of the pet name makes Jisung feel electrified.
“What is it?”
He’s only further surprised when Minho releases his hand to in turn wrap his arms around Jisung’s middle. “Gonna miss you at uni.”
Jisung curls his own arms around Minho and rubs along his spine through his shirt. “Why?” Maybe he shouldn’t press it, but he can’t help but cling to something akin to hope. Hope that his words mean more.
“You sometimes feel like everything to me,” Minho murmurs, and he hides his face to Jisung’s shoulder as the weight behind his words is realized. “You make me feel so much…”
“Yeah?” Jisung feels a bit breathless, and whatever air he has left in his lungs is snatched away when Minho raises his head. He’s trying to convey something with his eyes that Jisung can’t quite touch on, and he wishes desperately that he can so he can finally understand. Sometimes Minho is terribly complex to him - so full of mysteries.
“Tell me you feel it too,” Minho breathes and it all simply falls into place.
This is actually happening.
“Yeah,” Jisung’s hold on Minho tightens in the fabric at the small of his back. His heart feels like it’s about to pound right out of his chest but Jisung doesn’t mind as long as it falls into Minho’s hands. “Yeah, I do.”
“Jisung, you don’t know how special you are to me.”
Jisung contemplates what to say; he could simply mirror the words, because they are true, but something is sparkling in Minho’s eyes that makes him want to choose an entirely different path.
A hand leaves Minho’s waist to touch his cheek, so gently, and Jisung asks his question.
“Can I kiss you?”
Minho is caught stunned for several seconds but soon he is nodding his acceptance and his fingers are digging into the fabric of Jisung’s hoodie with anticipation. And so Jisung leans in and presses their lips together.
It isn’t hardly anything of a kiss; but it doesn’t seem to matter, not when Minho looks so happy that he could combust. Soon they’re giggling about something; maybe the absurdity of the situation, because why did it take them so long?
Chaos inside us turns to silence,
‘Cause we’ve got a little bit more,
‘Cause we’ve got a little bit more
“Jiji!”
“Hey, doll.” Jisung grabs his boyfriend about the waist when he runs to him from the other side of the kitchen. “One of the guys told me you were here. Can I ask why you’ve graced this house with your oh so lovely self?”
Minho is all smiles as he wriggles in Jisung’s arms to only be pulled closer. “My roommate set our shitty little dorm kitchen alight, and I wanted to make cookies, or something fun like that so I ended up here.”
“Was it your roommate or you?” Jisung teases, and peppers Minho’s face with kisses when the older boy readies himself to retort. As expected Minho gives in to the affection, melting right there in Jisung’s arms.
“You have to come help me,” Minho says when he does break free of Jisung’s hold. “And believe me, I didn’t want to come here, but this frat actually has a decent kitchen.”
Jisung follows him to the far counter where a tub of flour and another of sugar are set out, along with some other ingredients he vaguely recognizes. “You baking for the masses?” he asks, noting the large amount of each.
“You gonna sue me if I want to be a little nice?” Minho hangs over his shoulder as if he doesn’t want to give up Jisung’s touch. “The oven should be warm by now.” He sighs and presses a kiss to Jisung’s cheek. “You. Go turn on some music.”
“Sir yes sir,” Jisung says, and laughs when Minho hits his arm with an oven mitt.
After some deliberation Jisung settles for Voodoo Doll, and Minho turns from the counter to stick out his tongue at Jisung when he places the song.
“Tell me where you’re hiding your voodoo doll, ‘cause I can’t control myself,” Jisung sings as he stalks closer to Minho who is turned fully to him, arms stretched out to keep Jisung away. Jisung simply grins and sweeps Minho up into his arms, spinning them around a few times to hear Minho’s shriek of surprise turn to laughter.
“Ji,” Minho looks and sounds breathless when Jisung sets him down on the counter and comes to stand between his legs.
“Won’t you please stop loving me to death,” Jisung continues singing, and leans in to kiss Minho; once turns to twice and then he feels nothing but the buzz of the song in his head and Minho’s hands cupping his face.
Minho Minho Minho
Minho is everywhere all at once and Jisung is hit by a wave of care so strong that it nearly takes him off of his feet.
“You know I love you, right? It could be considered mountainous, how much I love you,” Jisung rambles when their foreheads are pressed together and Minho’s hands are travelling from his hair to his shoulders as if he doesn’t know where to hold him.
“You’re silly.” Minho is smiling again.
“You’re perfect.” Jisung is soft with his own words.
Minho buries his head against the fabric of Jisung’s jacket like he does when he’s embarrassed but also blushing; he’s always been a victim to Jisung’s affections. “I love you too.”
I’m watching you dancing in the kitchen,
I could call you my new religion
Jisung wrinkles his nose at the smell of brewing coffee in the air, the odor being too pungent for him at such an early morning hour. He’s slumped against the kitchen counter, exhausted, and just hours away from needing to be in the office again.
Ah, work.
Impatient, he’s about to step forward to check on the coffee in the Keurig once again, but before he can move far at all there’s a call of his name and then the soft padding of feet coming from the direction of the bedroom.
Ah, Minho.
Jisung smiles as the man comes closer, rubbing his eyes and walking a bit crooked from having just woken up. “My love, what are you doing awake already?”
Minho stumbles the last few steps to Jisung and collapses into his embrace, quite clearly still half-asleep. “Missed you.”
It’s simple moments in time like these that take Jisung’s breath away. This is Minho; Minho who he has known for seventeen years now, but even after the years he’s never once felt like he’s meant to be in any place other than his arms.
Jisung stretches out to reach his phone as he’s not wanting to startle Minho from his drowsy state with fast movements. But Minho is content pressed up against his chest with his arms thrown loosely about Jisung’s waist.
As he’s done so many times, Jisung opens his music library and scrolls to find one song that they’ve both loved for quite a while now. He knows it’ll make Minho smile.
And it does; the soft melody has Minho is smiling against Jisung’s collar and Jisung is smiling into his hair, and everything feels so warm and right.
“Dance with me?” Jisung asks, and Minho giggles, but soon they’re swaying along to the sweet notes of the song.
We’ll think about tomorrow tomorrow, baby.
“Remember what I said that time? In the summer before I left for uni?” Minho asks when the song is nearing it’s end, and Jisung finds that Minho’s voice is far, far away but so close all at once. “I said that you sometimes feel like everything to me.”
Jisung smiles at the memory; it’s so fond to him. “Yes, I do remember.”
After soft seconds, Minho is pulling away to cradle Jisung’s cheek with all the tenderness in the world. “Jisung, my love, my husband, you are everything to me.”
The cold press of Minho’s ring against his skin only fuels the fire of love and devotion Jisung has for this man, and soon he’s taking the same path he had all those years ago.
“Can I kiss you?”
And Minho is crying; sleep-heavy eyes filled with tears of what can only be called love. Jisung is the same, because the press of emotions coming down on them is weightless and massive at the same time. After seventeen years, everything is still so right.
“Yes.”
You’re waking me up in the morning,
You’re waking me up in the morning, yeah