Stray Kids Fic: Fizz, Bang, Pop
May. 8th, 2023 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Fizz, Bang, Pop
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Stray Kids
Pairing: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, background/implied Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin
Tags: First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, New Year's Eve, New Years, New Year's Fluff, Feelings
Rating: E
Word count: 10,586
Disclaimer: Make-believe!
Summary: It’s the New Year and Felix is about to start it with a Bang.
Author Notes: I would like to go on record to express my complete and utter lack of remorse regarding 1) the title and 2) the summary. Absolutely aghast I have not seen more use made of this terrible pun in the fandom. Be the change you wish to see in the world, I say. Oh, and much gratitude todreamersdare for the beta and the solidarity in our ‘fuck’s sake everyone’s stuck in the kitchen once more’ struggles. Fighting!
Fizz, Bang, Pop on AO3
The champagne is fizzing in his mouth, dry and tart, bubbles tickling at the back of his throat and sliding down, down, down. Felix doesn’t even like champagne, he doesn’t think. Still, he’s pretty sure this is the real stuff – but doesn’t want to ask in case it’s not and the staff think he’s being snobbish – so he grabs another glass. They’ve finished filming their New Year greeting and the Company has surprised them and their staff with an impromptu party, complete with food and many bottles of maybe-actual-champagne-wow. And even though most of them had been feeling beyond tired, the chance to kick back and spend some time together had been irresistible. Felix had been fantasising about his bed for most of the day (in a completely G-rated manner as well) but now, after one-and-half flutes (flutes! Someone had brought flutes!) of bubbly, he didn’t want to be anywhere except right here, squeezed onto a sofa between Changbin and one of their managers, the two involved in an intense conversation about the latest round of award shows. Not even the winners and losers but the audio engineering. Nerds, both of them, Felix thinks fondly. From Changbin’s other side Seungmin rolls his eyes at him, but he’s got his arm threaded through Changbin’s and is shamelessly snuggled against his side so Felix only grins in response. Any minute now, Changbin is going to realise Seungmin is there and be utterly baffled by it.
And yet, as entertaining the Seungmin-and-Changbin dance is, Felix’s attention is elsewhere. Across the room, to be more precise. On the man sitting by one of the side tables, deep in what looks depressingly like a serious work-related conversation with one of the senior managers, to be even more precise.
Chan looks good. He always looks good, but tonight the stylists have outdone themselves and there is… a lot of fitted leather with straps and metal buckles and honestly, trying to figure out which one would unravel the whole thing if pulled or unthreaded just right has been distracting Felix all night. It’s not an unusual thought, but normally he’s much better at shoving it into a small box and stomping on the lid until it’s firmly shut at least momentarily. Tonight… Well, maybe it’s the fact that New Year’s Eve makes him equally melancholy and hopeful, like there’s a new chance of everything if he’s just brave enough to seize it. Or maybe it’s the bubbly, fizzing and popping in his stomach, running along his veins like liquid courage. He’s not drunk per se, not really, and it’s not like he’s forgotten the reasons that have always kept him from pushing as far as he’s wanted to, kept his hands from lingering too long. Chan is still who he is; their leader, too responsible to let himself have the things he wants (and it’s only on occasion that Felix dares to hope he could be something Chan wants), too fucking humble to think he deserves them. And Felix is still who he is; too soft when he forgets to pull on the idol veneer, too obvious with his feelings regardless, his heart hanging off his sleeve for the world to see. For Chan to see too. Felix is certain that Chan has known about his ‘hero worship turned to crush turned to deep friendship turned to…’ longer than he himself has.
“You’re staring,” Seungmin says, interrupting Felix’s focus. Seungmin has draped himself behind Changbin’s back while Changbin himself has leaned even further forward to accommodate, completely subconsciously Felix would bet.
Felix slumps back as well, until Changbin’s and manager-nim’s heads are obscuring his view of the room. And Chan. Which maybe isn’t such a bad thing.
“Yeah,” he says, turning his head toward Seungmin in time to see the way his mouth drops open with surprise for a few seconds before he recovers. Guess he wasn’t expecting Felix to own up to it.
“Well,” Seungmin says. “Admitting the problem is step one for recovery.”
“Oh? And what step are you on?” It comes out a bit sharper than Felix intended, maybe even a bit mean judging by the way Seungmin’s expression goes carefully neutral, but it’s hard not to feel at least a bit defensive about the whole thing.
“Step two,” Seungmin says, with a lift of his chin that is more than a little defensive as well. “Doing something about it.” His voice is somehow both soft and brittle at the same time and Felix is filled with instant regret.
“Minnie…” He reaches out a hand and is relieved when Seungmin doesn’t hesitate to take it. “I’m sorry,” Felix says. “It’s just…”
“I know.” Seungmin squeezes Felix’s hand once, hard, and then lets go. “Honestly…” He looks like he’s not sure whether to go on but… “We all know.”
Felix winces, but he’s not exactly surprised. Heart, sleeve, etc. He does knock back his second flute of bubbly fast enough to make himself sneeze twice in a row.
“What, even Changbin?” he asks once he’s recovered.
Seugnmin laughs. “Yes, astonishingly. Even Binnie.”
Alerted by the use of his name, Changbin twists around, startled to find both Felix and Seungmin staring up at him. “What?” he asks. And then “Oh, Minnie. When did you get here?”
Seungmin stares back at him silently, a somewhat challenging look on his face, and it’s left to Felix to say “It’s nothing,” and “We’re fine, go back to your conversation.” He pats Changbin’s shoulder, which is a bit like petting a brick wall, and waits for him turn back around before exchanging an eyeroll with Seungmin.
“Seungmin-ah,” Felix intones solemnly after another minute of them listening to Changbin monologue about the ambience of each of the venues they’d played at. “I think I may be about to do something stupid.” It’s what he’s been thinking about for the last thirty minutes or so. Well, maybe for the whole evening. Maybe for the last six years. But it’s as if saying it aloud shakes something loose inside him, a spark of daring, a possibility. It will be the New Year in less than an hour and Felix may as well start it with a Bang. He giggles to himself. Pun intended.
Seungmin’s eyebrows have hiked up and there’s a smile playing on his lips. “I don’t hear any requests to stop you. Must mean it’s not that stupid then.”
Felix thinks about it, lets the possible outcomes fizzle about in his brain, each ‘what if’ rising to the surface in turn like bubbles in a glass and then popping gently. He could tell Seungmin to stop him, except Seungmin probably wouldn’t. He could ask Changbin but… Okay, no, Changbin wouldn’t either, but he would make a bigger deal of it and Felix thinks that might do the trick on its own. Or he could… He could get up and walk across the room, push a flute of maybe-champagne into Chan’s hand, push himself into Chan’s space, between his legs, into his lap and… He could, he could, he could…
He’s going to.
“Atta boy!” Seungmin says in English, clearly reading Felix’s decision from his face. Felix is too busy riding the giddy fizz of nerves and daring to do more than flip him off half-heartedly before he’s pushing up, squirming out from between Changbin and their manager.
He takes a moment to set his empty glass down, to straighten the three sizes too big shirt the stylists had dressed him for the night. It’s dove grey with metallic embellishment, and coupled with tight stretchy trousers, a long silver necklace and dangling earrings with little stars. Truth be told, Felix loves the outfit for the freedom of movement it affords, the way the fabric of the shirt flows around him at every twist and turn, the smooth whisper of it against his skin, like cool fingers trailing over his chest, shoulder blades, curve of his ribcage, dip of his waist. The second, deeper truth be told, Felix wants to find out what the shirt will feel like rucked up by someone else’s hands, sliding off his body.
Maybe tonight he will.
He squares his shoulders, glances back to the sofa behind him and sees Seungmin – back to leaning against Changbin’s side, whose is arm now casually draped around Seungmin’s waist – flash him a quick thumbs up, before setting his sights to where Chan… Isn’t.
Felix blinks, but the chair where Chan had been sitting is now occupied by Hyunjin, munching on a bag of sweets and laughing at something on his phone. A quick scan of the room locates their senior manager in one corner, talking with other staff, but there’s no sign of Chan anywhere. Felix frowns and turns back to Seungmin who has also clearly noticed the absence and only shrugs back to him in confusion.
Slowly, Felix makes his way toward the table with drinks and snacks. It’s possible that Chan has just stepped out for fresh air or a bathroom break, and Felix needs to keep this feeling of seizing the moment alive and moving around while he waits for Chan to come back seems the best way to do that. If he sits back down, he may not have the courage to get back up again.
Slowly, he sips his way through a third flute of fizz while he circles the room, pausing to exchange a word here and there. On the second sofa, Jisung is very seriously explaining the concept of body shots to Jeongin who looks way more interested than is probably strictly speaking good for any of their mental health. Next to them, Minho is pretending not to listen, but though his eyes are on his phone, the tips of his ears are bright pink.
After his glass is empty and almost ten minutes has passed, Felix is forced to admit that Chan is gone. Maybe it’s a sign and he should just let the feeling fizzle out, to stick to the safety of status quo, but…
But. What if this sense of possibility, of bravery, won’t come again? What if once the celebrations of the end of the year fade and routine schedule kicks back in Felix will let himself be drawn into the humdrum of it, will put all these thoughts into their little box again? And what if this is the year their leader will actually look up from his computer and sound decks long enough to see the countless beautiful, wonderful, talented people vying for his attention? What if this is the year Chan realises he has options, many, most, of them surely better, easier than Felix? And maybe Chan has never considered Felix as an option, maybe he never would, but maybe it’s just that he doesn’t know Felix is an option and that… That’s something Felix can fix.
That’s something Felix can fix tonight.
“Hey,” he says, interrupting Jisung’s comparison of lemon versus lime. “Where’s Channie-hyung?”
“Oh.” Jisung glances around the room. “I don’t know.”
“He went home,” Minho says, finally looking up from his phone.
“What?” Jeongin frowns. “Already? It’s not even midnight yet.”
Minho shrugs. “Guess he just wanted some peace and quiet.”
“I can’t believe he’s going to work on New Year’s Eve,” Jisung mutters. “Actually, no, I can believe it, I just don’t want to.”
Felix agrees. “Right,” he says. “Well, that isn’t happening. I need to talk to him.”
Three sets of raised eyebrows regard him questioningly. Surprisingly, or maybe not, it’s Jeongin’s expression that smooths into understanding first. “Oh,” he says. “Ohhh.”
Felix can feel himself flushing as first Minho and then finally Jisung catch on, smiles breaking out on everyone’s faces. Felix isn’t sure what he’d expected but there’s no pity in them, nothing even a little smirky.
“Okay. Well, I’m gonna…” He turns and walks off, ignoring Jisung’s wolf-whistle at his back, Jeongin’s gleeful “Go get it!”
Felix goes. He stops long enough to collect his jacket, swiping up one of the unopened bottles of sparkling wine (not actually champagne after all, he notices, reading the label) from the side table, and pausing to say goodnight to Hyunjin. He takes one look at Felix’s face, puts it together with his ‘I’m heading back, want to talk to Chan’ with alarming speed and promptly bites down on the hundred questions Felix can practically see trying to burst out. Instead of an interrogation, he gives Felix a hug, brief and tight, tight, tight, and Felix is suddenly so overflowing with fondness for all of his members he has to blink away tears.
The staff ask no questions, only call a car for him when he asks for it and within ten minutes, Felix is on his way home.
The clock ticks to twelve halfway through the journey, and Felix welcomes in the New Year from the backseat of a nondescript Hyundai, fireworks bursting to life as the streets fill with revellers and Seoul pulses gold and neon behind the tinted windows.
“Happy New Year,” the driver murmurs, glancing at him through the mirror.
Felix smiles back. “Happy New Year.” This isn’t how or where he thought he’d spend this exact moment but it’s okay, it’s good. He’s moving toward something important, anticipation curling in his stomach, and no matter the outcome, Felix will always know that the first thing he did in 2023 was something important, that he took a chance, that he was brave. And that’s a good thing in itself.
It’s twenty past midnight by the time he gets dropped off at Chan’s dorm. He thinks about just letting himself in since he has the keycode, but the fears from earlier, about being too late, about Chan finally grabbing his own chance somewhere else, come back. Who’s to say Chan hasn’t done that already? Who’s to say he’s even on his own right now? It’s that image, of walking in on Chan with someone, that makes Felix almost, almost chicken out at the last minute but he pushes the doorbell quickly before his brain sabotages him. Be brave, he reminds himself. Take the chance.
Chan opens the door before Felix can second guess himself more. He’s changed out of his performance outfit, wearing simple grey joggers and a white t-shirt, clearly fresh out of the shower, hair still damp and curling messily. Felix swallows. On the one hand, he’s disappointed because the earlier fitted leather look sure had been something, but on the other hand… This is better. This is Chan relaxed, Chan without costume or make-up, his shoulders loose, his face bare and so, so beautiful Felix kind of wants to cry a bit, looking at it.
“Felix? What are you doing here?” Chan opens the door wide in invitation despite the question and Felix squeezes past, bottle in one hand. “You could’ve just come in. Everything okay?” There’s worry in his voice and oh, okay, maybe Felix needs to rein in the ‘crying over Chan’s Channess’ impulse a bit.
“Everything is…” Well. It’s… He’s here. And Chan is here, and Felix is really, he’s really going to… “Are you alone?” he asks, squinting at the pile of shoes in the hallway, trying to see if there are any he doesn’t recognise.
Chan shuts the door and now they’re standing together in the dim hallway, close enough that Felix can feel the warmth of Chan’s body. The temptation to just fit himself against it is almost overwhelming, especially when Felix knows that Chan would welcome him without a question, would hug him as long and hard as he’d wanted to without any demands for an explanation.
“Am I…?” Chan frowns. “Yeah, everyone is still at the party. I thought you’d be there too. What…?”
And that’s all the information Felix needs. He’s not too late, he’s not too late and he’s going to do this. Now or never.
“Are you working?”
“Uh.” Chan ducks his head like a little boy expecting a scolding, but he’s smiling at Felix from under his eyelashes and Felix is so, so in love with this man that for a moment it feels like he can’t breathe from the enormity of it, his heart swelling impossibly in his chest.
“It’s New Year’s Day, hyung,” Felix says. “The day reserved for sleeping off hangovers and making resolutions you’re mostly going break within a week. Not working.” He pushes Chan gently toward the kitchen, toeing his shoes off as they go.
It’s brighter there, but not by much, only a third of the spotlights on. Chan glances at the clock on the coffeemaker, the numbers reading ’00:37’. “Oh,” he says, grinning at Felix now. “So it is. Happy New Year, Lix.”
Felix smiles back, and the bubbles are back, fizzing in his stomach, the back of his throat. He glances at the open laptop on the kitchen table, Chan’s headphones curled next to it. “You saved your work?” he asks.
“Yeah.” Chan’s watching him more closely now, curious but no longer worried, clearly sensing that Felix has a plan. When Felix closes the laptop lid and shoves it and the headphones to the other side of the table, safely out of the way, he only quirks an eyebrow at him.
“No work,” Felix repeats.
“But I don’t have a hangover to sleep off.” Chan points out.
Felix would bet good money he hadn’t had so much as a single glass tonight. “We can work on that,” he says and puts the bottle of fizz on the counter, watches the way Chan’s other eyebrow joins its mate. He’s definitely amused now, which is not quite the mood Felix wants to set. Deliberately, he drops his voice to a lower register and says, “Open that for us,” nodding at the bottle.
“Bossy.” The raise of Chan’s eyebrows is challenging now, humour still there but bleeding into something with a sharper edge.
And alright, Felix can do this. More importantly, he wants to. “Please,” he says, softening his tone. Then he takes a step forward, and another, coming to stand right in front of Chan who is leaning against the sink. “Actually…” Felix swallows, grits his teeth and then makes himself relax, taking a deep, slow breath like just before going on stage. He can feel the way his own hand starts to rise, reaching for the pulse point in his neck, and has to force it down.
Chan notices, because of course he does, grabbing Felix’s hand in one of his, squeezing once in comfort. “What is it, Lix?” he asks, gentle, maybe a bit worried again.
Felix laces their fingers together. “Actually…” He starts again, firmer this time, making himself look Chan in the eye when he asks, “Could you open my jacket for me first?”
Chan’s mouth drops open in surprise, but it lasts only for a few seconds until his whole expression morphs into something more guarded. It’s no use against Felix though. Chan has very little in terms of poker face anyway and for someone like Felix who has seen him go through every emotion from elation to anger, from despair to determination over the last six years, who’s shared most of them right there alongside him, Chan’s expression is easy to read. Wariness and disbelief and there, banked heat in the depths of his eyes, in the sweep of his gaze over Felix, both familiar and not. Familiar, because this isn’t the first time Chan has looked at him like that. Unfamiliar because it’s the first time Felix has let himself think it means something.
“Felix…” Chan’s voice is guarded too, but the roughness of it still bleeds through. “Are you drunk?” he asks, eyes scanning Felix’s face.
“No, hyung.” Felix isn’t. He had food earlier, and even with three glasses of bubbly in him, he’s tipsy at most, certainly in full of control of his decisions tonight. “Please,” Felix says. “Help me out of my jacket?” And now it’s him looking at Chan from under his lashes, his voice low without any conscious effort to make it so. And maybe it’s playing dirty, because Felix knows Chan won’t deny him when he asks just right, when he seems certain, except Felix is not playing.
Chan’s hands come up to Felix’s collar, fingers curling inside it, knuckles brushing against the hollow of his throat. Felix lets himself sway forward, unbalanced in the best of ways. The sound of a zipper being pulled down is loud in the otherwise quiet apartment.
Chan’s hands pushing the jacket off Felix’s shoulders are warm, his touch gentle but not light, not hesitant. He pulls the jacket free, catching it with one hand before it falls to the floor. “Now what?”
“Now you open the bottle,” Felix says.
Chan holds his gaze for three long seconds, the silence stretching between them like toffee, sweet with anticipation. Then he nods and steps aside, draping Felix’s jacket over one of the chairs. Felix exhales, shuddery and soft. Then he turns to rummage through the kitchen cupboards for glasses.
There’s a rustle of foil as Chan peels the cover off the bottle. “Should I shake it?” he asks, and Felix can hear the grin in his voice without looking.
“Did you just win the Grand Prix?” he asks, “Then no,” chuckling at Chan’s disappointed “Aww, spoilsport.”
“I didn’t steal what is probably at least medium-priced sparkling wine just to spill it all over ourselves,” Felix says, turning around just in time to watch Chan’s large and competent hands on the neck of the bottle, thumbs pressing the cork out in a way that makes Felix’s mouth go dry.
There’s a muted pop and only a trickle of white bubbles foam out and over Chan’s fingers. “See,” he says, “no waste,” and licks the spilled alcohol off the base of his thumb. It’s so clearly instinctual, so clearly not meant to be suggestive in any way that the effect is all the more devastating for it.
Felix is not sure what kind of noise he makes but it definitely grabs Chan’s attention. His eyes snap to Felix’s face, hand still half-way to his mouth, but before he can say anything, Felix is already moving.
“Sit,” he says, catching a handful of Chan’s shirt and tugging him toward the nearest chair.
Chan hums but lets himself be moved, lets Felix push him into the chair, easily lets go of the bottle when Felix reaches for it.
“You left the party,” Felix says. “You left before I…”
“Before you what?” Chan’s voice is low, his eyes following Felix’s every move as he tips the bottle, pouring wine into a chipped Lotte World mug.
“Bet you didn’t even have a drink,” Felix says, which is sort of an answer but not really. “Just…” He licks his lips, nervous and breathless with his own daring. “Was going to come over and talk to you,” he says. “Make sure you had some of the bubbly.” He lifts the mug illustratively. “You deserve it,” he adds, serious now. “You know that, right? That we’re here because of you?”
Chan makes the kind of wordless noise of embarrassment he does every time anyone dares to compliment him and tips his head up, looking at the ceiling. “Come on now,” he whines. “It’s a gr—”
“Group effort, yes, I know.” Sighing exaggeratedly, and so full of fondness he doesn’t know what to do with it, Felix reaches out and presses two fingers to Chan’s chin, tipping his head back upright. “Still true though,” he says.
To his credit, Chan doesn’t try to avoid his gaze again, though it clearly costs him. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Partly,” Felix says. “Drink first.”
“Only one?” Chan asks, eyeing the single mug Felix is holding.
“We can share.” He hadn’t done it on purpose, simply getting distracted, but it’s as good an excuse as Felix is going to get, so he steps close, nudging at Chan’s knees with his own until he gets the hint.
Chan had already been sprawling in the chair, one arm on the backrest, legs stretched out in front of him, so it doesn’t take a lot to get him to spread them just that much more, just enough for Felix to fit himself in between them.
Chan’s hands twitch like he wants to reach out and wrap them around Felix’s waist, but he’s holding himself very still, watching him with a heavy, cautious gaze, so clearly letting Felix take the lead. He is simultaneously deeply grateful and deeply sad, because he knows that part of the reason Chan is not reaching out, not touching him, is because he doesn’t yet believe he can.
“Drink,” Felix says, and raises the mug to Chan’s lips, tipping it carefully.
Chan doesn’t break eye contact, but he drinks.
“Good?” Felix asks.
“Mmm,” Chan hums. “Tickles.” He smiles, a quick quirk of his lips.
Felix lifts the mug to his own mouth, but barely gets his lips wet. He’s had plenty already.
“Another?” he asks and when Chan nods, he brings the mug to his mouth again. Except this time Chan sits up and wraps his hand around Felix’s and the mug both, downing the contents in three gulps. Gently, he pulls the empty mug from Felix’s grip and sets it on the table. “No work,” he says. “Alcohol, though not enough for a hangover. What’s left?”
“Resolutions,” Felix whispers. They’re still not touching beyond the press of Chan’s thighs against his legs, but the tension, the desire to, is there, the air thick with it, and Felix doesn’t think it’s just him. “You got any?” he asks, voice gravelly.
Chan shakes his head. “I don’t really do them,” he replies. “Like you said; they only get broken.” He shrugs, a little self-deprecating, and Felix thinks there’s a story there he’s going to drag out at some future date. “What about you? Did you make any resolutions, Lixie?”
As openings go, it’s pretty damn perfect.
“Yeah,” Felix says, stepping back from between Chan’s legs. Chan lets him go without resistance. “Made one. Earlier tonight.” He’s faintly surprised his voice doesn’t waver at all. The fizzing feeling of nerves is still there, but it’s overlaid with the weight of Chan’s gaze. He’s pretty certain now that if Chan does turn him down it’s not because he doesn’t want him, and every other reason can be argued with.
“Oh?” The smile is back, a little melancholy but genuine and with a jolt Felix realises that Chan thinks he’s backing off, changing course. “What did you decide?”
“I decided to be braver,” Felix says. “To take a chance.” He swings a leg over Chan’s lap, grabs his shoulders for balance, and straddles him, right there on the kitchen chair, in the middle of their shared and only momentarily empty dorm. “Decided to see if you wanted to do the same.”
This time, Chan’s surprise is too deep for him to even attempt to disguise it. Felix has a front row seat to the way his eyes grow wide, features going slack with shock. Seems for all their flirting earlier, for all their flirting over the years even, Chan hadn’t really expected Felix to cross the line. His body knows what to do though; hands coming up to steady Felix automatically, fingers gripping onto his hips in a way that makes Felix’s eyelashes flutter, makes him slide down further into Chan’s lap, until they are flush against each other.
“Felix,” Chan breathes his name like something unholy. “Lix, ba—” He cuts himself off, visibly swallows the word, but it’s too late, Felix already heard. He heard and he loves it. “You don’t…”
“If you say I don’t have to, or I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m going to hit you,” Felix says, and he means it. Chan’s mouth snaps shut. “If you ask me if I’m drunk – again! – or if I’m sure, I’m also going to hit you. Are we clear?”
Chan looks like he’s torn between laughing and crying, and his fingers flex against Felix’s hips. “Clear,” he concedes, the word half-strangled on something that sounds too much like a sob. “But Felix…”
“No.” Felix shakes Chan by his shoulders. “Shut up. Just… Shut up and listen.”
Everything about Chan’s body language – mouth pressed together into a thin, mulish line, every muscle singing with tension – says he doesn’t want to, that he’s already prepared to argue himself out of having something Felix is pretty sure both of them want but that Chan thinks isn’t his to have. And yet, he nods in acquiescence anyway, because Felix asked him to. He’s infuriating and stubborn and amazing and Felix loves him so much it hurts.
“I want you,” he blurts out, just like that. Underneath him, Chan goes impossibly still, his muscles locking into position until Felix feels like he’s sitting on a steel statue. “Hyung, you must know that. You must have known. I’ve just… I’ve wanted you for… Well, maybe you don’t want to know how long.” He’s rambling now, hands wandering over Chan’s shoulders, down his arms, tracing the shape of his shirt collar. “I want you,” he says again, because it bears repeating. “And before you start, I don’t just mean for a… A night, or a New Year’s experiment or something. You know that too, I think. I want to be with you, I’m in…”
A sharp inhale, from both of them, and Felix shifts direction.
“And I know, I know there are… Complications. I know there are so many other people to consider rather than just you and me.” He fits his palm against Chan’s chest, over his heart, presses down hard enough to feel the faint thump of it.
“And maybe you don’t want this, maybe you don’t want…” Felix swallows, forces himself to look Chan in the eyes, except it’s a mistake because the intensity in them snatches his breath clean away. “…me,” he finishes shakily. “But I had to try. I had to at least ask. You understand that right?”
Chan exhales, his nod jerky but there, and opens his mouth as if to say something but Felix isn’t done yet. He presses his fingers against Chan’s lips, only long enough to get his point across, resisting the urge to linger there. Instead, he continues the journey up and around, fingers curling behind Chan’s neck, winding into the still-damp strands of hair at his nape.
“And I thought, ‘Hey, New Year, new start.’ Maybe.” Felix tries a smile on for size, finds it comes easier than anticipated. “Because Chan, Channie-hyung, I know you. I know you try to protect us, don’t let yourself have what you want if you think you’d be putting yourself over us so if that’s why you haven’t… Why you think we can’t… Then I’m telling you, don’t. Just… don’t.”
Chan’s face is right there, familiar and dear but for all his earlier confidence in his skill to read it Felix hasn’t seen this expression before, has no reference point for it. It’s not bad, he thinks, which is something. The silence goes on for good twenty seconds while they stare at each other almost unblinking. Finally, Chan speaks. “Can I…” He clears his throat, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Are you, uh, finished now?” he asks.
Felix almost giggles, from sheer nerves and the relief of actually going through with it. “Oh my god, hyung,” he says. “Yes, please say—”
Chan surges up and kisses him.
Felix’s body, which has served him well for twenty-two years chooses this moment to utterly betray him, simply freezing in shock. Chan’s lips are pressed against his mouth, soft and half open, Chan’s hands cradling his face between them, and while Felix’s mind is doing the mental equivalent of a victory dance, and his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest, the rest of his body is stiff and immobile. It takes Chan about five seconds to realise that Felix is just sitting there and then he’s withdrawing, slow and hesitant.
“Felix…?” He pulls back, enough to get a good look at him, eyes searching Felix’s face, hands still cupping it but lighter now, preparing to let go. “Did I…?” It's the expression on Chan’s face, uncertainty and fear, the way the moment between them seems ready to shatter, that finally spurs Felix into action.
“Oh, hell no,” he says in English and reels Chan back in by his collar. This time, Felix’s body gets with the programme and he kisses Chan like he’s wanted to kiss him for years, slow and thorough like he has time, like he’ll get to keep him, because even if he won’t Chan deserves nothing less.
Chan makes a noise, something desperate and low, something that could be Felix’s name or just a wordless curse, and Felix swallows it up, laps it right out of Chan’s mouth, each moan like a sugar cube melting on his tongue. Chan’s hands drop down to Felix’s waist, coming obscenely close to circling it entirely, rucking up the silky fabric of his shirt. It feels as good as Felix imagined, better because it’s Chan, because it’s Chan’s broad palms pressed against his skin, Chan’s fingers brushing against the small of his back, skimming up his spine while Felix shivers from it, helpless and gasping. The shirt is loose enough that Chan’s arms fit under it fully, his hands coming up to cup Felix’s shoulder blades, supporting his weight when Felix can’t take it anymore, their mouths wrenching apart as he arches into Chan’s hold, hands scrabbling for purchase.
“Lix, Lix.” His name is a sharp hiss, Chan’s voice shot through as he murmurs, “Look at you, baby, god.”
Yes, Felix thinks, look at me. He’s wanted Chan’s eyes on him like this for so long, his gaze heavy and burning, so now that he has them, Felix can’t help but preen a little, pushing into Chan’s hands, showing off.
Chan buries his face against the stretched column of Felix’s neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple, then lower, tongue pressing against the hollow of his throat. Felix knows he must be able to feel the vibration of his groan, the low bass of it thrumming all the way in his chest, and the knowledge of it only makes him moan louder.
Chan works his way over all available skin, trailing short, biting kisses down Felix’s collarbones, back up the side of his neck, the corner of his jaw. They’re sharp enough to leave marks, and the realisation that Chan is too far gone to either notice or care makes Felix straight up growl, his head coming back up, hands grabbing Chan by the hair as he brings their lips together into another kiss.
“Chris,” he pants, gasping the name into the wet heat between their mouths, “Chris, I want to,” he says sliding deeper into Chan’s lap, “Chris, please.”
Chan pulls off to catch Felix’s eyes, his own almost fully black, Felix’s fingers still gripping his hair in a way that must be painful except the look on Chan’s face is one of pure pleasure.
“Felix,” Chan grits out. “Fuck. Are you…? Be sure.”
Felix socks him in the shoulder, as hard as he can, because he’s a man of his word. “Fucking told you,” he says, slipping into English.
Chan doesn’t even blink though Felix knows he hit hard enough to bruise, just grins at him, wide and more than a little bit feral, his usual easy smile bleeding into something darker, something possessive. It’s the version of Chan Felix normally only sees glimpses of, when his patience frays close to a snapping point, when someone comes for their members, when someone hurts his people. Felix has felt it before, they all have, the moment when Chan steps up, between them and the world, but he’s never had this, this knife-edge of focus aimed at him, like no one else matters, like Felix is the only thing Chan sees right now.
“You did,” Chan agrees. “Hold on,” he says and before Felix has a chance to do more than frown in confusion Chan’s arms tighten around him and he pushes off the chair, standing up.
Felix yelps and wraps his legs around Chan’s waist, his arms around his neck, on pure instinct, except of course he’s never in any danger of falling, Chan carrying him with the kind ease that makes Felix’s entire body light up. And fuck, fuck, it’s not exactly anything new, being picked up and carried by Chan but the position, the context, Chan’s arm around him, still under his shirt, skin to skin, his other hand coming to grip Felix’s thigh, hiking it higher, closer… He’s hard, has been probably since Chan stripped him of his jacket, but there’s no way to hide it like this, Felix’s hips pressed against Chan’s abs, stuttering closer of their own volition because of the way Chan is holding him, because where they’re going, because of the hunger in Chan’s expression, like a starving man looking at a feast. And so Felix doesn’t try, letting himself squirm and rub against Chan, utterly shameless, burning hot, and impatient now that they’re here when Felix waited for so long without any guarantee of ever getting this.
“Fuck, baby, stop,” Chan grunts, trying to navigate the living room while Felix moans brokenly into his shoulder. “You gotta stop or I’m going to drop you.”
“No, you won’t,” Felix tells him, confident, “not until it’s onto your bed.”
Chan curses, and even that is stupidly hot, the filthy mix of English and Korean that doesn’t even make sense except it’s exactly how Felix is feeling, too much and all at once. “That’s where you’re taking me, isn’t it Chris?” he asks, just running at the mouth now, rest of his body held almost immobile from Chan’s tightened grip. “Taking me to your bed, hyung? Do you know how long I’ve wanted that? Wanted you to just… pick me up like this, toss me down and fu—”
Felix’s back hits the door and Chan kicks it the rest of the way open, and then swings them around so that their combined weight pushes the door closed again from the inside. Then Chan is kissing him again, deep and filthy, tongue pushing inside, teeth tugging at Felix’s bottom lip until he sobs. There’s a faint tang of iron and that’s definitely going to show, no hiding this from anyone tomorrow, something Chan is probably going to apologise for later, but that Felix already knows he won’t be sorry about.
Despite Felix’s spilled fantasies, Chan doesn’t throw him onto the bed but instead lowers him slowly, holding him suspended above the mattress for a few long seconds at the last minute, Felix’s back brushing the sheets. It’s not for some show of strength – though it certainly does that – but because they are still kissing and neither of them bear to let go.
“What do you want?” Chan whispers. He’s leaning on his elbows, forearms on either side of Felix’s head, his body hovering above him as if he’s still hesitant to put his full weight down. As if he doesn’t want to be a burden.
It makes Felix’s chest ache, his throat closing up. God, he’s in love with the most self-sacrificing idiot on Earth.
“You,” he says. “I want you.” He hooks his legs behind Chan’s knees, tugs hard on his shirt, pulling him down. “Chan. Chan, come here. Let me feel you. I want to feel you.”
With a shudder Chan gives up, something in his expression crumbling as he lets himself press Felix fully to the bed, finally fitting himself into the space that Felix has made for him, has had ready and waiting for almost as long as they've known each other.
"Say it again?" Chan’s voice breaks on an exhale, the plea falling hotly against the shell of Felix's ear, making him whine and arch up, revelling in the feeling of being completely covered. "Lix, say it again."
"I want you," Felix obliges. "I want you, I want you. Chan, I want you. Let me have you, please?" He'll gladly say it as many times as necessary, as many times it takes for Chan to believe him.
Chan makes a noise, something like a growl, but more high-pitched, pushing it between Felix's lips, painting it to the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Felix finally gets his hands under Chan's t-shirt, and it's obviously not the first time he's run his fingers over the contours of Chan's abs, the swell of his chest, but it is the first time he's allowed himself to linger as much as he wants, the first time he can indulge, to be as greedy as he's always felt but never let himself be.
Chan's hands are equally busy and when his thumbs brush over Felix nipples, both of them moan, Felix's arms going up in a silent hint that Chan catches onto with gratifying speed. The shirt tangles at Felix's wrists, trapping them briefly and although Chan is quick enough to free him, Felix doesn't miss the way his eyes darken at the sight of Felix stretched out on the bed, his arms above his head, pulled tight and immobile. Nor does he miss the way his own stomach swoops at the idea. Something to explore later.
Assuming there is a later.
"Chan," Felix says, suddenly frantic for reassurance. He's done all the talking so far and while Chan's actions seem pretty unequivocal he hasn't actually said anything. "Hyung, please?" His words dry momentarily when Chan sits up, straddling Felix's hips as he reaches back and yanks his t-shirt off one-handed, and oh god, oh fuck, Felix is going to need to get this out before he loses all higher brain function, before he loses himself in the pleasure already making the edges of his mind grow fuzzy. He reaches up and Chan bends back down, easy and willing, hands cradling Felix's face like he's something precious.
"Baby," he says and Felix melts under him, feeling small and soft. "What is it?" Chan asks, dropping kisses all over Felix's face, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose.
"Are you...?" Felix swallows, tries again. "Chris, I... I really like you. You get that right? This isn't just... I can't do this if you're not..."
"I love you," Chan says. Just like that, his eyes serious. "I'm in love with you."
Felix's breath catches, and his heart is suddenly so full he thinks it's going to spill out of his chest.
"Is that... Is that okay?" Chan asks as if the answer is in doubt. Chan is an idiot, but Felix knew that from the start and it didn't stop him from falling in love with him anyway.
"Chan," Felix says with all the sincerity the situation deserves. "Channie-hyung. I need you to take off the rest of our clothes and then I need you to get your dick in me. Right now."
All the uncertainty in Chan's expression melts away like spring snow, replaced by a smile so blinding that Felix has to blink a bit. "As you wish," he says, his fingers already going to the fastening of Felix's trousers, easing the zipper down, knuckles deliberately brushing over the bulge of his erection.
Felix is still moaning, hips chasing the sensation when Chan pulls his trousers and underwear off in one smooth movement, and then he's naked, naked and hard in Chan's bed, with Chan's eyes dark and burning, raking over him from head to toe, mouth quite literally hanging open. Felix would laugh except he's too turned on, too impatient, desperate, for the amusement to be more than a fleeting flicker.
"C'mon." He makes grabby hands at Chan. "Chan, c'mon. You too."
Slowly, almost absentmindedly, Chan stands up, his hands dropping to the waistband of his joggers, thumbs hooking under it, clearly still preoccupied by watching Felix which... It's an ego-stroke for sure and another time Felix would take full advantage, but right now he has other priorities. "Hyung," it comes out breathy and low. "Don't make me beg." Except he would. He would and the look in Chan's eyes tells him he knows it too.
Chan pushes his jogging bottoms down and it's Felix's turn to stare, his mouth flooding with saliva. "Fuck," he breathes, and it's both an exclamation and a demand, because he wasn't kidding earlier; he needs that cock in him and he needs it now.
"Come. Here," he grits out, leaning up on his elbows, all but licking his lips because fuck, hasn't he waited long enough? Haven't they waited long enough?
Gratifyingly, Chan seems to be on the same wavelength, crawling back to the mattress, back between the welcoming, wanton spread of Felix's legs. He grinds down, Felix arches up, and the moan that gets trapped between the wet heat of their mouths is a needy, broken thing. Blindly, Chan gropes at the top drawer of the night table, coming back with a bottle of lube.
Felix can see the question in his expression before he even opens his mouth and promptly pre-empts it with, "Christopher Bang, I'm going to kick you in the nuts if you ask me again. I love this whole repeated checking for consent thing, I really, sincerely do." He really, sincerely does. It's so fucking endearing, so quintessentially good, so very Chan that Felix isn't surprised to find it in this context either, Chan's innate drive to take care of others translating to this.
The thing is, right now Felix wants Chan to be a bit selfish, a bit less careful with him. "But I'm telling you to get on with it."
He grins in a way that he knows is less sunshine and more approaching storm front, and runs his foot over Chan's thigh, toes gently nudging at his groin. The position leaves him fully spread out, fully on display, and he would be lying if he said it wasn't at least partly on purpose. "I know that kind of violence would derail my plans but unless you put this," he taps Chan's hard cock once with his foot, making it bounce against Chan's stomach, making Chan hiss with surprise, "to better use, I won't have a—"
Chan grabs hold of Felix's ankle, his fingers like a steel cuff as he forces Felix's foot up and away, and then folds his leg neatly down, knee to chest. Even with the years of dance training, it's a stretch and Felix groans, feeling himself flush hot from how open the position leaves him.
"Hold," Chan tells him and Felix's hands come up automatically to wrap around his own leg, then the other when Chan unceremoniously pushes that one up too.
"Fuck," Chan says, running his hands over the backs of Felix's thighs. "Fuck, you're hot." Then he bends down and licks, a long, hot path from the swell of Felix's ass to the knuckles of his fingers where they are curled tight behind his knees.
Felix is burning, his whole body hot with embarrassment and arousal from holding himself up like an offering, for Chan to look and touch and take.
"Beautiful." Chan leans down, bending Felix almost in half as he kisses him, their cocks pressing together for a few delicious seconds before Chan pulls back up, flicking the lid of the lube bottle open one-handed.
Felix sighs at the first touch of Chan's fingers, letting one of his legs go and wrapping it around Chan's waist as he pushes in, slow but purposeful and perfect the way Felix knew it would be. It's shockingly intimate, the careful stretch of Chan's fingers inside him, the way his gaze keeps flicking between Felix's face and the vee of his legs, his expression utterly focused, devoted, in a way that makes Felix breathless and pliant, makes him push back, choked little noises spilling from his lips. "More," he gasps, "please, Chris," and Chan gives it to him, indulgent and attentive like always until they're both shaking with want.
Felix feels Chan pull out, sees him wipe his fingers on the sheets, clumsily reaching for a condom packet, hands trembling ever so slightly as he tries to open it.
"Chan," Felix says, sitting up. "Leave it." He takes Chan's hands in both of his and pries the foil packet away, tossing it to the floor. "We're clean, right?"
Chan nods, eyes huge, his plush mouth pink and open, ready for the lingering kiss Felix soothes over it. "Yeah," Felix sighs. "Good, good, let's..." He pushes at Chan's shoulder, gentle but insistent until Chan gets the hint, letting himself be manhandled onto the bed.
Someday soon Felix is going to get Chan to fuck him to the mattress, to the wall, over the goddamn kitchen table, everyone's wrath be damned, but for now, for their first time, he thinks Chan will feel better to let Felix set the pace, still hesitant to trust that this thing is his for the taking. Something else for them to work on in the long term. They've got time.
Right now, Felix is more than happy to straddle Chan's thick thighs, to run his hands all over his frankly indecent expanse of defined muscle and smooth skin, to rub a thumb over the wet tip of his hard cock. When he licks the bitter salt of Chan's precome off his finger, they both moan, Chan's hands flying up to Felix's hips, and yeah, fuck, that's the end of Felix's patience. He finds the discarded bottle of lube and spreads a generous handful of it over Chan's cock, brisk and business-like despite the urge to linger, to tease. Raising up on his knees, Felix shuffles awkwardly forward enough to be able to line up properly and then, eyes locked to Chan's the whole while, sinks down slowly.
Chan is not exactly small, and despite the prep, the stretch is enough to burn, Felix's mouth dropping open on a deep groan. Chan's grip on his hips is tight enough to hurt, but it's only fair, because Felix is pretty sure the way his own fingers are digging into Chan's chest as he braces against it is bound to leave marks. After what feels like minutes but can't be more than half of one, at most, Felix finally bottoms out. He can feel the sweat breaking out at the small of his back, gathering at the hollow of his throat, starting to slide down his sternum. Already there's a soft ache settling into his muscles, that he knows will only grow. Under him, Chan's body is a hard line of tension, the effort of holding himself still evident in the way the tendons in his arms, in his neck stand out. Felix loves him so much, for every slow blink of his dark eyes, for every fast beat of his heart, thrumming against Felix's palm.
"Hyung," Felix whispers, leaning down, whimpering from the delicious drag of Chan's cock inside him. "Chan." He nips at Chan's bottom lip because it's there and he wants to. "Move."
Chan's hand finds his hair at the same as his hips snap up, jolting Felix forward, Chan's grip guiding him into a kiss, uncoordinated and bruising. The rhythm they build is almost brutal from the beginning. Maybe next time, the third, the thirtieth they will take their time and Felix will rock himself on Chan's cock, or his own into Chan, slow and easy until they are both delirious from it. Maybe he'll stop, let the edge of pleasure recede before bringing them to the brink of it again, and again until they are sobbing into each other's mouths.
But that's for the future. Tonight, Felix grinds down, pushes up onto his knees and lifts himself almost off, fucking himself back onto Chan's cock over and over again, until his thighs are burning, until his eyes sting from the sweat and he's shaking from the pleasure. Beneath him, Chan looks like a wet dream, skin gleaming. One of his hands grips Felix’s hip, the other one reaching up to stroke the side of his face, perhaps intending to pull him down for a kiss, but getting distracted in the process.
"Gorgeous." Chan’s thumb brushes over the corner of Felix's mouth. "How are you so...?"
Felix curls his tongue around the tip, sucks the digit into this mouth, then another, a third and lets himself gag on them.
"Felix." Chan chokes on his name while Felix chokes on his fingers, stuffed full, drooling and desperate. Chan's cock twitches inside him, pressing against his prostrate on every thrust. Felix is so hard it almost hurts but before he can touch himself, Chan is pushing his hand away, wrapping his own around Felix's cock.
Felix comes first, back arching, head thrown back as he rides out his orgasm, spilling all over Chan's fist, his chest. He collapses forward, Chan's arms catching him, and Felix lies there, lax and moaning while Chan fucks up into him, fast and stuttering, chasing his own release. He pushes himself up enough to see, just in time, not wanting to miss the expression on Chan's face when he comes, the indecent gape of his mouth, the way his eyes never waver from Felix's, not even when pleasure rolls over his features in waves.
Afterwards, Chan kisses him, deep and reverent, slow and indulgent, smiling, smiling, smiling and Felix already knows 2023 is going to be the best year ever.
***
The first morning of the new year dawns grey and cold. Both Felix and Chan sleep through it, warm and tangled in each other under the covers. It's almost midday by the time Felix wakes up, too hot and pleasantly sore. Chan is still snoring, one arm wrapped around his pillow, another one thrown over Felix's middle, tight and possessive. For a few seconds, Felix just grins at the ceiling, wide and so fucking happy he thinks he might just burst from it.
Then again, maybe it's just his bladder threatening to do that. Squirming out of Chan's grip takes some doing, especially once Chan half awakes and grumpily demands to know where Felix thinks he's going. Felix is disgustingly smitten over the whole thing, dropping kisses all over Chan's face, on top of his knuckles like some kind of knight from a storybook, promising to come back, until Chan finally relinquishes his hold.
Swiping Chan's jogging bottoms from the floor, Felix hastily pulls them on and legs it to the bathroom. Necessary business conducted, he hovers in the hallway, tongue worrying at the raw scrape on his bottom lip from Chan’s teeth, torn between the prospect of coffee and breakfast and the temptation of Chan, naked in the bed. In the end, he decides that there's an acceptable compromise of scavenging for snacks to go.
The kitchen is not empty. It shouldn't be surprising to find someone up but somehow it is. Felix had assumed everyone else was also sleeping and also possibly doing so at the other dorm, given how his intentions last night hadn't exactly been a secret. Instead, he comes face to face with Changbin, sitting at the kitchen table, an empty bowl in front of him, phone in one hand.
He looks up when Felix enters, eyebrows immediately shooting up, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face. Felix flushes, realising he's wearing nothing but jogging bottoms very clearly several sizes too big for him, and has to stop himself from crossing his arms defensively.
"Good morning," Changbin chirps. "And a very happy new year indeed, I assume?"
Felix flips him off but can't do anything about the smile taking over his expression, easily breaking through any surprise and embarrassment. He walks to the coffee maker, blessedly almost full.
Changbin snorts, and then yelps. "Gah! My innocent eyes!"
"What are you talking about?" Felix asks. "This is hardly the first time you've seen me topless."
"It is the first time I've seen you looking like you’ve been mauled by a vampire with blunt teeth.” Changbin is peering at him through his fingers, looking equal parts scandalised and gleeful.
For a moment, Felix considers slapping a hand to his neck but the damage is done and. Well. There’s a not insignificant part of him that wants people to see. “Won’t be the last either,” he says smugly, “better get used to it,” even though he’s pretty sure Changbin’s questionably innocent eyes will be safe once their public schedule picks up.
Possibly, and sadly, earlier, once Chan regains enough of his consciousness to survey the aftermath. Felix is already bracing himself for the needless apologies. Coffee was definitely the right choice.
He fills two mugs, rummages the drawers for some cereal bars and stuffs a few into his pockets. That’ll do.
“Why are you here?” Felix asks, turning back to Changbin.
“I live here,” he says, aiming for indignant but grinning too hard to really manage it.
Felix rolls his eyes. “Yes, but Seungmin doesn’t,” he observes sweetly. “Thought he would’ve persuaded you to stay away last night.”
Changbin honest to god splutters for a few seconds and Felix silently awards himself a point. “What? I mean, yes. He said that you… I did sleep over there.”
Felix takes a sip of his coffee and slowly raises an eyebrow.
“On the sofa,” Changbin grits out.
“Aww, better luck next time, hyung,” Felix consoles.
Changbin narrows his eyes at him but refuses to raise to the bait again. “We all slept over at the other dorm,” he says instead. “You’re welcome.”
And Felix, for all his teasing and being flustered, is grateful. “Thank you,” he says, wholly sincere, feeling warm and cared for. “Really.”
“Yeah well.” Changbin waves a dismissive hand at him. “We played rock-paper-scissors to see who would come back to scope the situation. I lost.”
“What situation?” That’s Chan’s voice, and both Felix and Changbin jump a bit, turning around.
Chan’s standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his boxers, hair a riot of curls and with faint pillow creases on his cheek and chest. He’s sleep soft and devastating and Felix is pretty sure he makes some kind of embarrassing half-whimper at the back of his throat.
“Felix.” Chan spots him, smile brightening his expression like a goddamn lighthouse. “You were taking your time, coming back.” There’s a hint of a pout in his voice, another of uncertainty.
“Just stopped for some snacks,” Felix is quick to reassure. He wants to go over and press himself into Chan’s bare chest, trail kisses all over his face until any trace of doubt about exactly where Felix wants to stay is erased. But. Well. Changbin. “And coffee.” He raises his mug and takes another sip, largely to occupy his mouth.
Chan’s eyes drift from the mug in Felix’s hand to the one waiting on the counter and then back to Felix, who sees the exact moment Chan registers what he’s wearing; Chan’s jogging bottoms, Chan’s marks all over his skin. And. Well. Apparently, that works to dispel any uncertainties, because Chan’s smile takes on a sharper edge, turning decidedly more… possessive.
“That for me?” Chan asks, and he could perceivably be talking about the coffee, but Felix is pretty sure he isn’t.
Either way, the answer is the same. “Yeah.” It comes out embarrassingly breathy and low but there’s nothing he can do about it. “It’s for you.” Confidence, Felix thinks faintly. It’s confidence he can see on Chan’s expression now, in every line of his body, and it looks damn good on him.
“Ooookay then!”
Felix and Chan jump, eyes snapping to Chanbin who claps his hands on his thighs and gets up, his gaze locked somewhere on the kitchen cabinets. “Look at the time, best get going. Need to, uh, be elsewhere. Urgently.”
Felix rolls his eyes and Chan laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Binnie,” he says. “I…”
“Extremely happy for you, hyung,” Changbin interrupts, clapping Chan’s shoulder. “Both of you.” He quirks a smile at Felix. “I’m going to go share the good news with the everyone else now. You two… Carry on, I guess.” He turns to go, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.
“Although…” Changbin stops at the doorway, looking back. “Best to keep an eye on your phones,” he says. “I’m almost hundred percent sure Minho was planning a family meal for this evening anyway, and as soon as I tell him about this,” he waves a hand between Chan and Felix a couple of times, complete with some frankly disturbing finger wiggles, “that’s gone to like a thousand percent definitely happening. There will be many courses and everyone is going to be absolutely obnoxious in taking the piss and asking questions I personally do not want to know the answers to so you better not be the oversharing type of a couple, okay? Okay.”
“…Tell Minho and the others we’ll be there.” Chan sounds equal parts resigned and touched, pinching the bridge of his nose but fighting a smile all the same.
Felix knows exactly how he feels. “Looking forward to it,” he says, and he’s not even lying.
Changbin barks a laugh and finally leaves.
Felix and Chan stare at each other in silence until the sound of the front door closing confirms that they are alone again.
Felix is the first one to break. “So… Coffee?” he asks, grabbing the other mug from the counter and offering it to Chan.
Wordlessly, Chan walks over, accepts the mug and takes a drink, his eyes never leaving Felix’s face.
Felix tries to do the same but he can feel the way his gaze keeps slipping down, tracing the lines of Chan’s chest, his flat stomach, the prominent vee of his pelvic muscles disappearing under the waistband of his boxers.
“Felix…” Chan’s voice is gruff with more than just sleep. He puts his own mug down on the counter, plucks Felix’s straight from his hand and does the same. “Can I…?”
Felix slaps a hand over Chan’s mouth. “Christopher Bang,” he says sternly, “I’m starting to think you want to show up to Minho’s dinner with a black eye. I swear to go—”
He can feel Chan’s grin against his palm, which is the only warning he gets.
Moving altogether too quickly for Felix’s peace of mind, Chan grabs hold of his wrist and pulls his hand away, stepping closer. At first, Felix thinks he’s going for a kiss but instead Chan bends down and wraps his arms around Felix’s thighs, lifts him off the ground and throws him over his shoulder. Felix makes an undignified screech, scrabbling for a hold as he dangles face down over Chan’s bare back, but quickly dissolves into a fit of delighted giggles as Chan unceremoniously carries him back toward the bedroom.
He's still laughing by the time Chan drops him back onto his messy bed, onto the sheets that smell like the two of them, happiness fizzing inside him, light and intoxicating. Unlike the buzz from the wine, Felix thinks as he reaches for Chan, both of them smiling too wide to even kiss properly, this is the kind of feeling that is only going to get stronger with time.
***
Title: Fizz, Bang, Pop
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress Kat Fandom: Stray Kids
Pairing: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, background/implied Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin
Tags: First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, New Year's Eve, New Years, New Year's Fluff, Feelings
Rating: E
Word count: 10,586
Disclaimer: Make-believe!
Summary: It’s the New Year and Felix is about to start it with a Bang.
Author Notes: I would like to go on record to express my complete and utter lack of remorse regarding 1) the title and 2) the summary. Absolutely aghast I have not seen more use made of this terrible pun in the fandom. Be the change you wish to see in the world, I say. Oh, and much gratitude to
dreamersdare for the beta and the solidarity in our ‘fuck’s sake everyone’s stuck in the kitchen once more’ struggles. Fighting!Fizz, Bang, Pop on AO3
The champagne is fizzing in his mouth, dry and tart, bubbles tickling at the back of his throat and sliding down, down, down. Felix doesn’t even like champagne, he doesn’t think. Still, he’s pretty sure this is the real stuff – but doesn’t want to ask in case it’s not and the staff think he’s being snobbish – so he grabs another glass. They’ve finished filming their New Year greeting and the Company has surprised them and their staff with an impromptu party, complete with food and many bottles of maybe-actual-champagne-wow. And even though most of them had been feeling beyond tired, the chance to kick back and spend some time together had been irresistible. Felix had been fantasising about his bed for most of the day (in a completely G-rated manner as well) but now, after one-and-half flutes (flutes! Someone had brought flutes!) of bubbly, he didn’t want to be anywhere except right here, squeezed onto a sofa between Changbin and one of their managers, the two involved in an intense conversation about the latest round of award shows. Not even the winners and losers but the audio engineering. Nerds, both of them, Felix thinks fondly. From Changbin’s other side Seungmin rolls his eyes at him, but he’s got his arm threaded through Changbin’s and is shamelessly snuggled against his side so Felix only grins in response. Any minute now, Changbin is going to realise Seungmin is there and be utterly baffled by it.
And yet, as entertaining the Seungmin-and-Changbin dance is, Felix’s attention is elsewhere. Across the room, to be more precise. On the man sitting by one of the side tables, deep in what looks depressingly like a serious work-related conversation with one of the senior managers, to be even more precise.
Chan looks good. He always looks good, but tonight the stylists have outdone themselves and there is… a lot of fitted leather with straps and metal buckles and honestly, trying to figure out which one would unravel the whole thing if pulled or unthreaded just right has been distracting Felix all night. It’s not an unusual thought, but normally he’s much better at shoving it into a small box and stomping on the lid until it’s firmly shut at least momentarily. Tonight… Well, maybe it’s the fact that New Year’s Eve makes him equally melancholy and hopeful, like there’s a new chance of everything if he’s just brave enough to seize it. Or maybe it’s the bubbly, fizzing and popping in his stomach, running along his veins like liquid courage. He’s not drunk per se, not really, and it’s not like he’s forgotten the reasons that have always kept him from pushing as far as he’s wanted to, kept his hands from lingering too long. Chan is still who he is; their leader, too responsible to let himself have the things he wants (and it’s only on occasion that Felix dares to hope he could be something Chan wants), too fucking humble to think he deserves them. And Felix is still who he is; too soft when he forgets to pull on the idol veneer, too obvious with his feelings regardless, his heart hanging off his sleeve for the world to see. For Chan to see too. Felix is certain that Chan has known about his ‘hero worship turned to crush turned to deep friendship turned to…’ longer than he himself has.
“You’re staring,” Seungmin says, interrupting Felix’s focus. Seungmin has draped himself behind Changbin’s back while Changbin himself has leaned even further forward to accommodate, completely subconsciously Felix would bet.
Felix slumps back as well, until Changbin’s and manager-nim’s heads are obscuring his view of the room. And Chan. Which maybe isn’t such a bad thing.
“Yeah,” he says, turning his head toward Seungmin in time to see the way his mouth drops open with surprise for a few seconds before he recovers. Guess he wasn’t expecting Felix to own up to it.
“Well,” Seungmin says. “Admitting the problem is step one for recovery.”
“Oh? And what step are you on?” It comes out a bit sharper than Felix intended, maybe even a bit mean judging by the way Seungmin’s expression goes carefully neutral, but it’s hard not to feel at least a bit defensive about the whole thing.
“Step two,” Seungmin says, with a lift of his chin that is more than a little defensive as well. “Doing something about it.” His voice is somehow both soft and brittle at the same time and Felix is filled with instant regret.
“Minnie…” He reaches out a hand and is relieved when Seungmin doesn’t hesitate to take it. “I’m sorry,” Felix says. “It’s just…”
“I know.” Seungmin squeezes Felix’s hand once, hard, and then lets go. “Honestly…” He looks like he’s not sure whether to go on but… “We all know.”
Felix winces, but he’s not exactly surprised. Heart, sleeve, etc. He does knock back his second flute of bubbly fast enough to make himself sneeze twice in a row.
“What, even Changbin?” he asks once he’s recovered.
Seugnmin laughs. “Yes, astonishingly. Even Binnie.”
Alerted by the use of his name, Changbin twists around, startled to find both Felix and Seungmin staring up at him. “What?” he asks. And then “Oh, Minnie. When did you get here?”
Seungmin stares back at him silently, a somewhat challenging look on his face, and it’s left to Felix to say “It’s nothing,” and “We’re fine, go back to your conversation.” He pats Changbin’s shoulder, which is a bit like petting a brick wall, and waits for him turn back around before exchanging an eyeroll with Seungmin.
“Seungmin-ah,” Felix intones solemnly after another minute of them listening to Changbin monologue about the ambience of each of the venues they’d played at. “I think I may be about to do something stupid.” It’s what he’s been thinking about for the last thirty minutes or so. Well, maybe for the whole evening. Maybe for the last six years. But it’s as if saying it aloud shakes something loose inside him, a spark of daring, a possibility. It will be the New Year in less than an hour and Felix may as well start it with a Bang. He giggles to himself. Pun intended.
Seungmin’s eyebrows have hiked up and there’s a smile playing on his lips. “I don’t hear any requests to stop you. Must mean it’s not that stupid then.”
Felix thinks about it, lets the possible outcomes fizzle about in his brain, each ‘what if’ rising to the surface in turn like bubbles in a glass and then popping gently. He could tell Seungmin to stop him, except Seungmin probably wouldn’t. He could ask Changbin but… Okay, no, Changbin wouldn’t either, but he would make a bigger deal of it and Felix thinks that might do the trick on its own. Or he could… He could get up and walk across the room, push a flute of maybe-champagne into Chan’s hand, push himself into Chan’s space, between his legs, into his lap and… He could, he could, he could…
He’s going to.
“Atta boy!” Seungmin says in English, clearly reading Felix’s decision from his face. Felix is too busy riding the giddy fizz of nerves and daring to do more than flip him off half-heartedly before he’s pushing up, squirming out from between Changbin and their manager.
He takes a moment to set his empty glass down, to straighten the three sizes too big shirt the stylists had dressed him for the night. It’s dove grey with metallic embellishment, and coupled with tight stretchy trousers, a long silver necklace and dangling earrings with little stars. Truth be told, Felix loves the outfit for the freedom of movement it affords, the way the fabric of the shirt flows around him at every twist and turn, the smooth whisper of it against his skin, like cool fingers trailing over his chest, shoulder blades, curve of his ribcage, dip of his waist. The second, deeper truth be told, Felix wants to find out what the shirt will feel like rucked up by someone else’s hands, sliding off his body.
Maybe tonight he will.
He squares his shoulders, glances back to the sofa behind him and sees Seungmin – back to leaning against Changbin’s side, whose is arm now casually draped around Seungmin’s waist – flash him a quick thumbs up, before setting his sights to where Chan… Isn’t.
Felix blinks, but the chair where Chan had been sitting is now occupied by Hyunjin, munching on a bag of sweets and laughing at something on his phone. A quick scan of the room locates their senior manager in one corner, talking with other staff, but there’s no sign of Chan anywhere. Felix frowns and turns back to Seungmin who has also clearly noticed the absence and only shrugs back to him in confusion.
Slowly, Felix makes his way toward the table with drinks and snacks. It’s possible that Chan has just stepped out for fresh air or a bathroom break, and Felix needs to keep this feeling of seizing the moment alive and moving around while he waits for Chan to come back seems the best way to do that. If he sits back down, he may not have the courage to get back up again.
Slowly, he sips his way through a third flute of fizz while he circles the room, pausing to exchange a word here and there. On the second sofa, Jisung is very seriously explaining the concept of body shots to Jeongin who looks way more interested than is probably strictly speaking good for any of their mental health. Next to them, Minho is pretending not to listen, but though his eyes are on his phone, the tips of his ears are bright pink.
After his glass is empty and almost ten minutes has passed, Felix is forced to admit that Chan is gone. Maybe it’s a sign and he should just let the feeling fizzle out, to stick to the safety of status quo, but…
But. What if this sense of possibility, of bravery, won’t come again? What if once the celebrations of the end of the year fade and routine schedule kicks back in Felix will let himself be drawn into the humdrum of it, will put all these thoughts into their little box again? And what if this is the year their leader will actually look up from his computer and sound decks long enough to see the countless beautiful, wonderful, talented people vying for his attention? What if this is the year Chan realises he has options, many, most, of them surely better, easier than Felix? And maybe Chan has never considered Felix as an option, maybe he never would, but maybe it’s just that he doesn’t know Felix is an option and that… That’s something Felix can fix.
That’s something Felix can fix tonight.
“Hey,” he says, interrupting Jisung’s comparison of lemon versus lime. “Where’s Channie-hyung?”
“Oh.” Jisung glances around the room. “I don’t know.”
“He went home,” Minho says, finally looking up from his phone.
“What?” Jeongin frowns. “Already? It’s not even midnight yet.”
Minho shrugs. “Guess he just wanted some peace and quiet.”
“I can’t believe he’s going to work on New Year’s Eve,” Jisung mutters. “Actually, no, I can believe it, I just don’t want to.”
Felix agrees. “Right,” he says. “Well, that isn’t happening. I need to talk to him.”
Three sets of raised eyebrows regard him questioningly. Surprisingly, or maybe not, it’s Jeongin’s expression that smooths into understanding first. “Oh,” he says. “Ohhh.”
Felix can feel himself flushing as first Minho and then finally Jisung catch on, smiles breaking out on everyone’s faces. Felix isn’t sure what he’d expected but there’s no pity in them, nothing even a little smirky.
“Okay. Well, I’m gonna…” He turns and walks off, ignoring Jisung’s wolf-whistle at his back, Jeongin’s gleeful “Go get it!”
Felix goes. He stops long enough to collect his jacket, swiping up one of the unopened bottles of sparkling wine (not actually champagne after all, he notices, reading the label) from the side table, and pausing to say goodnight to Hyunjin. He takes one look at Felix’s face, puts it together with his ‘I’m heading back, want to talk to Chan’ with alarming speed and promptly bites down on the hundred questions Felix can practically see trying to burst out. Instead of an interrogation, he gives Felix a hug, brief and tight, tight, tight, and Felix is suddenly so overflowing with fondness for all of his members he has to blink away tears.
The staff ask no questions, only call a car for him when he asks for it and within ten minutes, Felix is on his way home.
The clock ticks to twelve halfway through the journey, and Felix welcomes in the New Year from the backseat of a nondescript Hyundai, fireworks bursting to life as the streets fill with revellers and Seoul pulses gold and neon behind the tinted windows.
“Happy New Year,” the driver murmurs, glancing at him through the mirror.
Felix smiles back. “Happy New Year.” This isn’t how or where he thought he’d spend this exact moment but it’s okay, it’s good. He’s moving toward something important, anticipation curling in his stomach, and no matter the outcome, Felix will always know that the first thing he did in 2023 was something important, that he took a chance, that he was brave. And that’s a good thing in itself.
It’s twenty past midnight by the time he gets dropped off at Chan’s dorm. He thinks about just letting himself in since he has the keycode, but the fears from earlier, about being too late, about Chan finally grabbing his own chance somewhere else, come back. Who’s to say Chan hasn’t done that already? Who’s to say he’s even on his own right now? It’s that image, of walking in on Chan with someone, that makes Felix almost, almost chicken out at the last minute but he pushes the doorbell quickly before his brain sabotages him. Be brave, he reminds himself. Take the chance.
Chan opens the door before Felix can second guess himself more. He’s changed out of his performance outfit, wearing simple grey joggers and a white t-shirt, clearly fresh out of the shower, hair still damp and curling messily. Felix swallows. On the one hand, he’s disappointed because the earlier fitted leather look sure had been something, but on the other hand… This is better. This is Chan relaxed, Chan without costume or make-up, his shoulders loose, his face bare and so, so beautiful Felix kind of wants to cry a bit, looking at it.
“Felix? What are you doing here?” Chan opens the door wide in invitation despite the question and Felix squeezes past, bottle in one hand. “You could’ve just come in. Everything okay?” There’s worry in his voice and oh, okay, maybe Felix needs to rein in the ‘crying over Chan’s Channess’ impulse a bit.
“Everything is…” Well. It’s… He’s here. And Chan is here, and Felix is really, he’s really going to… “Are you alone?” he asks, squinting at the pile of shoes in the hallway, trying to see if there are any he doesn’t recognise.
Chan shuts the door and now they’re standing together in the dim hallway, close enough that Felix can feel the warmth of Chan’s body. The temptation to just fit himself against it is almost overwhelming, especially when Felix knows that Chan would welcome him without a question, would hug him as long and hard as he’d wanted to without any demands for an explanation.
“Am I…?” Chan frowns. “Yeah, everyone is still at the party. I thought you’d be there too. What…?”
And that’s all the information Felix needs. He’s not too late, he’s not too late and he’s going to do this. Now or never.
“Are you working?”
“Uh.” Chan ducks his head like a little boy expecting a scolding, but he’s smiling at Felix from under his eyelashes and Felix is so, so in love with this man that for a moment it feels like he can’t breathe from the enormity of it, his heart swelling impossibly in his chest.
“It’s New Year’s Day, hyung,” Felix says. “The day reserved for sleeping off hangovers and making resolutions you’re mostly going break within a week. Not working.” He pushes Chan gently toward the kitchen, toeing his shoes off as they go.
It’s brighter there, but not by much, only a third of the spotlights on. Chan glances at the clock on the coffeemaker, the numbers reading ’00:37’. “Oh,” he says, grinning at Felix now. “So it is. Happy New Year, Lix.”
Felix smiles back, and the bubbles are back, fizzing in his stomach, the back of his throat. He glances at the open laptop on the kitchen table, Chan’s headphones curled next to it. “You saved your work?” he asks.
“Yeah.” Chan’s watching him more closely now, curious but no longer worried, clearly sensing that Felix has a plan. When Felix closes the laptop lid and shoves it and the headphones to the other side of the table, safely out of the way, he only quirks an eyebrow at him.
“No work,” Felix repeats.
“But I don’t have a hangover to sleep off.” Chan points out.
Felix would bet good money he hadn’t had so much as a single glass tonight. “We can work on that,” he says and puts the bottle of fizz on the counter, watches the way Chan’s other eyebrow joins its mate. He’s definitely amused now, which is not quite the mood Felix wants to set. Deliberately, he drops his voice to a lower register and says, “Open that for us,” nodding at the bottle.
“Bossy.” The raise of Chan’s eyebrows is challenging now, humour still there but bleeding into something with a sharper edge.
And alright, Felix can do this. More importantly, he wants to. “Please,” he says, softening his tone. Then he takes a step forward, and another, coming to stand right in front of Chan who is leaning against the sink. “Actually…” Felix swallows, grits his teeth and then makes himself relax, taking a deep, slow breath like just before going on stage. He can feel the way his own hand starts to rise, reaching for the pulse point in his neck, and has to force it down.
Chan notices, because of course he does, grabbing Felix’s hand in one of his, squeezing once in comfort. “What is it, Lix?” he asks, gentle, maybe a bit worried again.
Felix laces their fingers together. “Actually…” He starts again, firmer this time, making himself look Chan in the eye when he asks, “Could you open my jacket for me first?”
Chan’s mouth drops open in surprise, but it lasts only for a few seconds until his whole expression morphs into something more guarded. It’s no use against Felix though. Chan has very little in terms of poker face anyway and for someone like Felix who has seen him go through every emotion from elation to anger, from despair to determination over the last six years, who’s shared most of them right there alongside him, Chan’s expression is easy to read. Wariness and disbelief and there, banked heat in the depths of his eyes, in the sweep of his gaze over Felix, both familiar and not. Familiar, because this isn’t the first time Chan has looked at him like that. Unfamiliar because it’s the first time Felix has let himself think it means something.
“Felix…” Chan’s voice is guarded too, but the roughness of it still bleeds through. “Are you drunk?” he asks, eyes scanning Felix’s face.
“No, hyung.” Felix isn’t. He had food earlier, and even with three glasses of bubbly in him, he’s tipsy at most, certainly in full of control of his decisions tonight. “Please,” Felix says. “Help me out of my jacket?” And now it’s him looking at Chan from under his lashes, his voice low without any conscious effort to make it so. And maybe it’s playing dirty, because Felix knows Chan won’t deny him when he asks just right, when he seems certain, except Felix is not playing.
Chan’s hands come up to Felix’s collar, fingers curling inside it, knuckles brushing against the hollow of his throat. Felix lets himself sway forward, unbalanced in the best of ways. The sound of a zipper being pulled down is loud in the otherwise quiet apartment.
Chan’s hands pushing the jacket off Felix’s shoulders are warm, his touch gentle but not light, not hesitant. He pulls the jacket free, catching it with one hand before it falls to the floor. “Now what?”
“Now you open the bottle,” Felix says.
Chan holds his gaze for three long seconds, the silence stretching between them like toffee, sweet with anticipation. Then he nods and steps aside, draping Felix’s jacket over one of the chairs. Felix exhales, shuddery and soft. Then he turns to rummage through the kitchen cupboards for glasses.
There’s a rustle of foil as Chan peels the cover off the bottle. “Should I shake it?” he asks, and Felix can hear the grin in his voice without looking.
“Did you just win the Grand Prix?” he asks, “Then no,” chuckling at Chan’s disappointed “Aww, spoilsport.”
“I didn’t steal what is probably at least medium-priced sparkling wine just to spill it all over ourselves,” Felix says, turning around just in time to watch Chan’s large and competent hands on the neck of the bottle, thumbs pressing the cork out in a way that makes Felix’s mouth go dry.
There’s a muted pop and only a trickle of white bubbles foam out and over Chan’s fingers. “See,” he says, “no waste,” and licks the spilled alcohol off the base of his thumb. It’s so clearly instinctual, so clearly not meant to be suggestive in any way that the effect is all the more devastating for it.
Felix is not sure what kind of noise he makes but it definitely grabs Chan’s attention. His eyes snap to Felix’s face, hand still half-way to his mouth, but before he can say anything, Felix is already moving.
“Sit,” he says, catching a handful of Chan’s shirt and tugging him toward the nearest chair.
Chan hums but lets himself be moved, lets Felix push him into the chair, easily lets go of the bottle when Felix reaches for it.
“You left the party,” Felix says. “You left before I…”
“Before you what?” Chan’s voice is low, his eyes following Felix’s every move as he tips the bottle, pouring wine into a chipped Lotte World mug.
“Bet you didn’t even have a drink,” Felix says, which is sort of an answer but not really. “Just…” He licks his lips, nervous and breathless with his own daring. “Was going to come over and talk to you,” he says. “Make sure you had some of the bubbly.” He lifts the mug illustratively. “You deserve it,” he adds, serious now. “You know that, right? That we’re here because of you?”
Chan makes the kind of wordless noise of embarrassment he does every time anyone dares to compliment him and tips his head up, looking at the ceiling. “Come on now,” he whines. “It’s a gr—”
“Group effort, yes, I know.” Sighing exaggeratedly, and so full of fondness he doesn’t know what to do with it, Felix reaches out and presses two fingers to Chan’s chin, tipping his head back upright. “Still true though,” he says.
To his credit, Chan doesn’t try to avoid his gaze again, though it clearly costs him. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Partly,” Felix says. “Drink first.”
“Only one?” Chan asks, eyeing the single mug Felix is holding.
“We can share.” He hadn’t done it on purpose, simply getting distracted, but it’s as good an excuse as Felix is going to get, so he steps close, nudging at Chan’s knees with his own until he gets the hint.
Chan had already been sprawling in the chair, one arm on the backrest, legs stretched out in front of him, so it doesn’t take a lot to get him to spread them just that much more, just enough for Felix to fit himself in between them.
Chan’s hands twitch like he wants to reach out and wrap them around Felix’s waist, but he’s holding himself very still, watching him with a heavy, cautious gaze, so clearly letting Felix take the lead. He is simultaneously deeply grateful and deeply sad, because he knows that part of the reason Chan is not reaching out, not touching him, is because he doesn’t yet believe he can.
“Drink,” Felix says, and raises the mug to Chan’s lips, tipping it carefully.
Chan doesn’t break eye contact, but he drinks.
“Good?” Felix asks.
“Mmm,” Chan hums. “Tickles.” He smiles, a quick quirk of his lips.
Felix lifts the mug to his own mouth, but barely gets his lips wet. He’s had plenty already.
“Another?” he asks and when Chan nods, he brings the mug to his mouth again. Except this time Chan sits up and wraps his hand around Felix’s and the mug both, downing the contents in three gulps. Gently, he pulls the empty mug from Felix’s grip and sets it on the table. “No work,” he says. “Alcohol, though not enough for a hangover. What’s left?”
“Resolutions,” Felix whispers. They’re still not touching beyond the press of Chan’s thighs against his legs, but the tension, the desire to, is there, the air thick with it, and Felix doesn’t think it’s just him. “You got any?” he asks, voice gravelly.
Chan shakes his head. “I don’t really do them,” he replies. “Like you said; they only get broken.” He shrugs, a little self-deprecating, and Felix thinks there’s a story there he’s going to drag out at some future date. “What about you? Did you make any resolutions, Lixie?”
As openings go, it’s pretty damn perfect.
“Yeah,” Felix says, stepping back from between Chan’s legs. Chan lets him go without resistance. “Made one. Earlier tonight.” He’s faintly surprised his voice doesn’t waver at all. The fizzing feeling of nerves is still there, but it’s overlaid with the weight of Chan’s gaze. He’s pretty certain now that if Chan does turn him down it’s not because he doesn’t want him, and every other reason can be argued with.
“Oh?” The smile is back, a little melancholy but genuine and with a jolt Felix realises that Chan thinks he’s backing off, changing course. “What did you decide?”
“I decided to be braver,” Felix says. “To take a chance.” He swings a leg over Chan’s lap, grabs his shoulders for balance, and straddles him, right there on the kitchen chair, in the middle of their shared and only momentarily empty dorm. “Decided to see if you wanted to do the same.”
This time, Chan’s surprise is too deep for him to even attempt to disguise it. Felix has a front row seat to the way his eyes grow wide, features going slack with shock. Seems for all their flirting earlier, for all their flirting over the years even, Chan hadn’t really expected Felix to cross the line. His body knows what to do though; hands coming up to steady Felix automatically, fingers gripping onto his hips in a way that makes Felix’s eyelashes flutter, makes him slide down further into Chan’s lap, until they are flush against each other.
“Felix,” Chan breathes his name like something unholy. “Lix, ba—” He cuts himself off, visibly swallows the word, but it’s too late, Felix already heard. He heard and he loves it. “You don’t…”
“If you say I don’t have to, or I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m going to hit you,” Felix says, and he means it. Chan’s mouth snaps shut. “If you ask me if I’m drunk – again! – or if I’m sure, I’m also going to hit you. Are we clear?”
Chan looks like he’s torn between laughing and crying, and his fingers flex against Felix’s hips. “Clear,” he concedes, the word half-strangled on something that sounds too much like a sob. “But Felix…”
“No.” Felix shakes Chan by his shoulders. “Shut up. Just… Shut up and listen.”
Everything about Chan’s body language – mouth pressed together into a thin, mulish line, every muscle singing with tension – says he doesn’t want to, that he’s already prepared to argue himself out of having something Felix is pretty sure both of them want but that Chan thinks isn’t his to have. And yet, he nods in acquiescence anyway, because Felix asked him to. He’s infuriating and stubborn and amazing and Felix loves him so much it hurts.
“I want you,” he blurts out, just like that. Underneath him, Chan goes impossibly still, his muscles locking into position until Felix feels like he’s sitting on a steel statue. “Hyung, you must know that. You must have known. I’ve just… I’ve wanted you for… Well, maybe you don’t want to know how long.” He’s rambling now, hands wandering over Chan’s shoulders, down his arms, tracing the shape of his shirt collar. “I want you,” he says again, because it bears repeating. “And before you start, I don’t just mean for a… A night, or a New Year’s experiment or something. You know that too, I think. I want to be with you, I’m in…”
A sharp inhale, from both of them, and Felix shifts direction.
“And I know, I know there are… Complications. I know there are so many other people to consider rather than just you and me.” He fits his palm against Chan’s chest, over his heart, presses down hard enough to feel the faint thump of it.
“And maybe you don’t want this, maybe you don’t want…” Felix swallows, forces himself to look Chan in the eyes, except it’s a mistake because the intensity in them snatches his breath clean away. “…me,” he finishes shakily. “But I had to try. I had to at least ask. You understand that right?”
Chan exhales, his nod jerky but there, and opens his mouth as if to say something but Felix isn’t done yet. He presses his fingers against Chan’s lips, only long enough to get his point across, resisting the urge to linger there. Instead, he continues the journey up and around, fingers curling behind Chan’s neck, winding into the still-damp strands of hair at his nape.
“And I thought, ‘Hey, New Year, new start.’ Maybe.” Felix tries a smile on for size, finds it comes easier than anticipated. “Because Chan, Channie-hyung, I know you. I know you try to protect us, don’t let yourself have what you want if you think you’d be putting yourself over us so if that’s why you haven’t… Why you think we can’t… Then I’m telling you, don’t. Just… don’t.”
Chan’s face is right there, familiar and dear but for all his earlier confidence in his skill to read it Felix hasn’t seen this expression before, has no reference point for it. It’s not bad, he thinks, which is something. The silence goes on for good twenty seconds while they stare at each other almost unblinking. Finally, Chan speaks. “Can I…” He clears his throat, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Are you, uh, finished now?” he asks.
Felix almost giggles, from sheer nerves and the relief of actually going through with it. “Oh my god, hyung,” he says. “Yes, please say—”
Chan surges up and kisses him.
Felix’s body, which has served him well for twenty-two years chooses this moment to utterly betray him, simply freezing in shock. Chan’s lips are pressed against his mouth, soft and half open, Chan’s hands cradling his face between them, and while Felix’s mind is doing the mental equivalent of a victory dance, and his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest, the rest of his body is stiff and immobile. It takes Chan about five seconds to realise that Felix is just sitting there and then he’s withdrawing, slow and hesitant.
“Felix…?” He pulls back, enough to get a good look at him, eyes searching Felix’s face, hands still cupping it but lighter now, preparing to let go. “Did I…?” It's the expression on Chan’s face, uncertainty and fear, the way the moment between them seems ready to shatter, that finally spurs Felix into action.
“Oh, hell no,” he says in English and reels Chan back in by his collar. This time, Felix’s body gets with the programme and he kisses Chan like he’s wanted to kiss him for years, slow and thorough like he has time, like he’ll get to keep him, because even if he won’t Chan deserves nothing less.
Chan makes a noise, something desperate and low, something that could be Felix’s name or just a wordless curse, and Felix swallows it up, laps it right out of Chan’s mouth, each moan like a sugar cube melting on his tongue. Chan’s hands drop down to Felix’s waist, coming obscenely close to circling it entirely, rucking up the silky fabric of his shirt. It feels as good as Felix imagined, better because it’s Chan, because it’s Chan’s broad palms pressed against his skin, Chan’s fingers brushing against the small of his back, skimming up his spine while Felix shivers from it, helpless and gasping. The shirt is loose enough that Chan’s arms fit under it fully, his hands coming up to cup Felix’s shoulder blades, supporting his weight when Felix can’t take it anymore, their mouths wrenching apart as he arches into Chan’s hold, hands scrabbling for purchase.
“Lix, Lix.” His name is a sharp hiss, Chan’s voice shot through as he murmurs, “Look at you, baby, god.”
Yes, Felix thinks, look at me. He’s wanted Chan’s eyes on him like this for so long, his gaze heavy and burning, so now that he has them, Felix can’t help but preen a little, pushing into Chan’s hands, showing off.
Chan buries his face against the stretched column of Felix’s neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple, then lower, tongue pressing against the hollow of his throat. Felix knows he must be able to feel the vibration of his groan, the low bass of it thrumming all the way in his chest, and the knowledge of it only makes him moan louder.
Chan works his way over all available skin, trailing short, biting kisses down Felix’s collarbones, back up the side of his neck, the corner of his jaw. They’re sharp enough to leave marks, and the realisation that Chan is too far gone to either notice or care makes Felix straight up growl, his head coming back up, hands grabbing Chan by the hair as he brings their lips together into another kiss.
“Chris,” he pants, gasping the name into the wet heat between their mouths, “Chris, I want to,” he says sliding deeper into Chan’s lap, “Chris, please.”
Chan pulls off to catch Felix’s eyes, his own almost fully black, Felix’s fingers still gripping his hair in a way that must be painful except the look on Chan’s face is one of pure pleasure.
“Felix,” Chan grits out. “Fuck. Are you…? Be sure.”
Felix socks him in the shoulder, as hard as he can, because he’s a man of his word. “Fucking told you,” he says, slipping into English.
Chan doesn’t even blink though Felix knows he hit hard enough to bruise, just grins at him, wide and more than a little bit feral, his usual easy smile bleeding into something darker, something possessive. It’s the version of Chan Felix normally only sees glimpses of, when his patience frays close to a snapping point, when someone comes for their members, when someone hurts his people. Felix has felt it before, they all have, the moment when Chan steps up, between them and the world, but he’s never had this, this knife-edge of focus aimed at him, like no one else matters, like Felix is the only thing Chan sees right now.
“You did,” Chan agrees. “Hold on,” he says and before Felix has a chance to do more than frown in confusion Chan’s arms tighten around him and he pushes off the chair, standing up.
Felix yelps and wraps his legs around Chan’s waist, his arms around his neck, on pure instinct, except of course he’s never in any danger of falling, Chan carrying him with the kind ease that makes Felix’s entire body light up. And fuck, fuck, it’s not exactly anything new, being picked up and carried by Chan but the position, the context, Chan’s arm around him, still under his shirt, skin to skin, his other hand coming to grip Felix’s thigh, hiking it higher, closer… He’s hard, has been probably since Chan stripped him of his jacket, but there’s no way to hide it like this, Felix’s hips pressed against Chan’s abs, stuttering closer of their own volition because of the way Chan is holding him, because where they’re going, because of the hunger in Chan’s expression, like a starving man looking at a feast. And so Felix doesn’t try, letting himself squirm and rub against Chan, utterly shameless, burning hot, and impatient now that they’re here when Felix waited for so long without any guarantee of ever getting this.
“Fuck, baby, stop,” Chan grunts, trying to navigate the living room while Felix moans brokenly into his shoulder. “You gotta stop or I’m going to drop you.”
“No, you won’t,” Felix tells him, confident, “not until it’s onto your bed.”
Chan curses, and even that is stupidly hot, the filthy mix of English and Korean that doesn’t even make sense except it’s exactly how Felix is feeling, too much and all at once. “That’s where you’re taking me, isn’t it Chris?” he asks, just running at the mouth now, rest of his body held almost immobile from Chan’s tightened grip. “Taking me to your bed, hyung? Do you know how long I’ve wanted that? Wanted you to just… pick me up like this, toss me down and fu—”
Felix’s back hits the door and Chan kicks it the rest of the way open, and then swings them around so that their combined weight pushes the door closed again from the inside. Then Chan is kissing him again, deep and filthy, tongue pushing inside, teeth tugging at Felix’s bottom lip until he sobs. There’s a faint tang of iron and that’s definitely going to show, no hiding this from anyone tomorrow, something Chan is probably going to apologise for later, but that Felix already knows he won’t be sorry about.
Despite Felix’s spilled fantasies, Chan doesn’t throw him onto the bed but instead lowers him slowly, holding him suspended above the mattress for a few long seconds at the last minute, Felix’s back brushing the sheets. It’s not for some show of strength – though it certainly does that – but because they are still kissing and neither of them bear to let go.
“What do you want?” Chan whispers. He’s leaning on his elbows, forearms on either side of Felix’s head, his body hovering above him as if he’s still hesitant to put his full weight down. As if he doesn’t want to be a burden.
It makes Felix’s chest ache, his throat closing up. God, he’s in love with the most self-sacrificing idiot on Earth.
“You,” he says. “I want you.” He hooks his legs behind Chan’s knees, tugs hard on his shirt, pulling him down. “Chan. Chan, come here. Let me feel you. I want to feel you.”
With a shudder Chan gives up, something in his expression crumbling as he lets himself press Felix fully to the bed, finally fitting himself into the space that Felix has made for him, has had ready and waiting for almost as long as they've known each other.
"Say it again?" Chan’s voice breaks on an exhale, the plea falling hotly against the shell of Felix's ear, making him whine and arch up, revelling in the feeling of being completely covered. "Lix, say it again."
"I want you," Felix obliges. "I want you, I want you. Chan, I want you. Let me have you, please?" He'll gladly say it as many times as necessary, as many times it takes for Chan to believe him.
Chan makes a noise, something like a growl, but more high-pitched, pushing it between Felix's lips, painting it to the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Felix finally gets his hands under Chan's t-shirt, and it's obviously not the first time he's run his fingers over the contours of Chan's abs, the swell of his chest, but it is the first time he's allowed himself to linger as much as he wants, the first time he can indulge, to be as greedy as he's always felt but never let himself be.
Chan's hands are equally busy and when his thumbs brush over Felix nipples, both of them moan, Felix's arms going up in a silent hint that Chan catches onto with gratifying speed. The shirt tangles at Felix's wrists, trapping them briefly and although Chan is quick enough to free him, Felix doesn't miss the way his eyes darken at the sight of Felix stretched out on the bed, his arms above his head, pulled tight and immobile. Nor does he miss the way his own stomach swoops at the idea. Something to explore later.
Assuming there is a later.
"Chan," Felix says, suddenly frantic for reassurance. He's done all the talking so far and while Chan's actions seem pretty unequivocal he hasn't actually said anything. "Hyung, please?" His words dry momentarily when Chan sits up, straddling Felix's hips as he reaches back and yanks his t-shirt off one-handed, and oh god, oh fuck, Felix is going to need to get this out before he loses all higher brain function, before he loses himself in the pleasure already making the edges of his mind grow fuzzy. He reaches up and Chan bends back down, easy and willing, hands cradling Felix's face like he's something precious.
"Baby," he says and Felix melts under him, feeling small and soft. "What is it?" Chan asks, dropping kisses all over Felix's face, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose.
"Are you...?" Felix swallows, tries again. "Chris, I... I really like you. You get that right? This isn't just... I can't do this if you're not..."
"I love you," Chan says. Just like that, his eyes serious. "I'm in love with you."
Felix's breath catches, and his heart is suddenly so full he thinks it's going to spill out of his chest.
"Is that... Is that okay?" Chan asks as if the answer is in doubt. Chan is an idiot, but Felix knew that from the start and it didn't stop him from falling in love with him anyway.
"Chan," Felix says with all the sincerity the situation deserves. "Channie-hyung. I need you to take off the rest of our clothes and then I need you to get your dick in me. Right now."
All the uncertainty in Chan's expression melts away like spring snow, replaced by a smile so blinding that Felix has to blink a bit. "As you wish," he says, his fingers already going to the fastening of Felix's trousers, easing the zipper down, knuckles deliberately brushing over the bulge of his erection.
Felix is still moaning, hips chasing the sensation when Chan pulls his trousers and underwear off in one smooth movement, and then he's naked, naked and hard in Chan's bed, with Chan's eyes dark and burning, raking over him from head to toe, mouth quite literally hanging open. Felix would laugh except he's too turned on, too impatient, desperate, for the amusement to be more than a fleeting flicker.
"C'mon." He makes grabby hands at Chan. "Chan, c'mon. You too."
Slowly, almost absentmindedly, Chan stands up, his hands dropping to the waistband of his joggers, thumbs hooking under it, clearly still preoccupied by watching Felix which... It's an ego-stroke for sure and another time Felix would take full advantage, but right now he has other priorities. "Hyung," it comes out breathy and low. "Don't make me beg." Except he would. He would and the look in Chan's eyes tells him he knows it too.
Chan pushes his jogging bottoms down and it's Felix's turn to stare, his mouth flooding with saliva. "Fuck," he breathes, and it's both an exclamation and a demand, because he wasn't kidding earlier; he needs that cock in him and he needs it now.
"Come. Here," he grits out, leaning up on his elbows, all but licking his lips because fuck, hasn't he waited long enough? Haven't they waited long enough?
Gratifyingly, Chan seems to be on the same wavelength, crawling back to the mattress, back between the welcoming, wanton spread of Felix's legs. He grinds down, Felix arches up, and the moan that gets trapped between the wet heat of their mouths is a needy, broken thing. Blindly, Chan gropes at the top drawer of the night table, coming back with a bottle of lube.
Felix can see the question in his expression before he even opens his mouth and promptly pre-empts it with, "Christopher Bang, I'm going to kick you in the nuts if you ask me again. I love this whole repeated checking for consent thing, I really, sincerely do." He really, sincerely does. It's so fucking endearing, so quintessentially good, so very Chan that Felix isn't surprised to find it in this context either, Chan's innate drive to take care of others translating to this.
The thing is, right now Felix wants Chan to be a bit selfish, a bit less careful with him. "But I'm telling you to get on with it."
He grins in a way that he knows is less sunshine and more approaching storm front, and runs his foot over Chan's thigh, toes gently nudging at his groin. The position leaves him fully spread out, fully on display, and he would be lying if he said it wasn't at least partly on purpose. "I know that kind of violence would derail my plans but unless you put this," he taps Chan's hard cock once with his foot, making it bounce against Chan's stomach, making Chan hiss with surprise, "to better use, I won't have a—"
Chan grabs hold of Felix's ankle, his fingers like a steel cuff as he forces Felix's foot up and away, and then folds his leg neatly down, knee to chest. Even with the years of dance training, it's a stretch and Felix groans, feeling himself flush hot from how open the position leaves him.
"Hold," Chan tells him and Felix's hands come up automatically to wrap around his own leg, then the other when Chan unceremoniously pushes that one up too.
"Fuck," Chan says, running his hands over the backs of Felix's thighs. "Fuck, you're hot." Then he bends down and licks, a long, hot path from the swell of Felix's ass to the knuckles of his fingers where they are curled tight behind his knees.
Felix is burning, his whole body hot with embarrassment and arousal from holding himself up like an offering, for Chan to look and touch and take.
"Beautiful." Chan leans down, bending Felix almost in half as he kisses him, their cocks pressing together for a few delicious seconds before Chan pulls back up, flicking the lid of the lube bottle open one-handed.
Felix sighs at the first touch of Chan's fingers, letting one of his legs go and wrapping it around Chan's waist as he pushes in, slow but purposeful and perfect the way Felix knew it would be. It's shockingly intimate, the careful stretch of Chan's fingers inside him, the way his gaze keeps flicking between Felix's face and the vee of his legs, his expression utterly focused, devoted, in a way that makes Felix breathless and pliant, makes him push back, choked little noises spilling from his lips. "More," he gasps, "please, Chris," and Chan gives it to him, indulgent and attentive like always until they're both shaking with want.
Felix feels Chan pull out, sees him wipe his fingers on the sheets, clumsily reaching for a condom packet, hands trembling ever so slightly as he tries to open it.
"Chan," Felix says, sitting up. "Leave it." He takes Chan's hands in both of his and pries the foil packet away, tossing it to the floor. "We're clean, right?"
Chan nods, eyes huge, his plush mouth pink and open, ready for the lingering kiss Felix soothes over it. "Yeah," Felix sighs. "Good, good, let's..." He pushes at Chan's shoulder, gentle but insistent until Chan gets the hint, letting himself be manhandled onto the bed.
Someday soon Felix is going to get Chan to fuck him to the mattress, to the wall, over the goddamn kitchen table, everyone's wrath be damned, but for now, for their first time, he thinks Chan will feel better to let Felix set the pace, still hesitant to trust that this thing is his for the taking. Something else for them to work on in the long term. They've got time.
Right now, Felix is more than happy to straddle Chan's thick thighs, to run his hands all over his frankly indecent expanse of defined muscle and smooth skin, to rub a thumb over the wet tip of his hard cock. When he licks the bitter salt of Chan's precome off his finger, they both moan, Chan's hands flying up to Felix's hips, and yeah, fuck, that's the end of Felix's patience. He finds the discarded bottle of lube and spreads a generous handful of it over Chan's cock, brisk and business-like despite the urge to linger, to tease. Raising up on his knees, Felix shuffles awkwardly forward enough to be able to line up properly and then, eyes locked to Chan's the whole while, sinks down slowly.
Chan is not exactly small, and despite the prep, the stretch is enough to burn, Felix's mouth dropping open on a deep groan. Chan's grip on his hips is tight enough to hurt, but it's only fair, because Felix is pretty sure the way his own fingers are digging into Chan's chest as he braces against it is bound to leave marks. After what feels like minutes but can't be more than half of one, at most, Felix finally bottoms out. He can feel the sweat breaking out at the small of his back, gathering at the hollow of his throat, starting to slide down his sternum. Already there's a soft ache settling into his muscles, that he knows will only grow. Under him, Chan's body is a hard line of tension, the effort of holding himself still evident in the way the tendons in his arms, in his neck stand out. Felix loves him so much, for every slow blink of his dark eyes, for every fast beat of his heart, thrumming against Felix's palm.
"Hyung," Felix whispers, leaning down, whimpering from the delicious drag of Chan's cock inside him. "Chan." He nips at Chan's bottom lip because it's there and he wants to. "Move."
Chan's hand finds his hair at the same as his hips snap up, jolting Felix forward, Chan's grip guiding him into a kiss, uncoordinated and bruising. The rhythm they build is almost brutal from the beginning. Maybe next time, the third, the thirtieth they will take their time and Felix will rock himself on Chan's cock, or his own into Chan, slow and easy until they are both delirious from it. Maybe he'll stop, let the edge of pleasure recede before bringing them to the brink of it again, and again until they are sobbing into each other's mouths.
But that's for the future. Tonight, Felix grinds down, pushes up onto his knees and lifts himself almost off, fucking himself back onto Chan's cock over and over again, until his thighs are burning, until his eyes sting from the sweat and he's shaking from the pleasure. Beneath him, Chan looks like a wet dream, skin gleaming. One of his hands grips Felix’s hip, the other one reaching up to stroke the side of his face, perhaps intending to pull him down for a kiss, but getting distracted in the process.
"Gorgeous." Chan’s thumb brushes over the corner of Felix's mouth. "How are you so...?"
Felix curls his tongue around the tip, sucks the digit into this mouth, then another, a third and lets himself gag on them.
"Felix." Chan chokes on his name while Felix chokes on his fingers, stuffed full, drooling and desperate. Chan's cock twitches inside him, pressing against his prostrate on every thrust. Felix is so hard it almost hurts but before he can touch himself, Chan is pushing his hand away, wrapping his own around Felix's cock.
Felix comes first, back arching, head thrown back as he rides out his orgasm, spilling all over Chan's fist, his chest. He collapses forward, Chan's arms catching him, and Felix lies there, lax and moaning while Chan fucks up into him, fast and stuttering, chasing his own release. He pushes himself up enough to see, just in time, not wanting to miss the expression on Chan's face when he comes, the indecent gape of his mouth, the way his eyes never waver from Felix's, not even when pleasure rolls over his features in waves.
Afterwards, Chan kisses him, deep and reverent, slow and indulgent, smiling, smiling, smiling and Felix already knows 2023 is going to be the best year ever.
***
The first morning of the new year dawns grey and cold. Both Felix and Chan sleep through it, warm and tangled in each other under the covers. It's almost midday by the time Felix wakes up, too hot and pleasantly sore. Chan is still snoring, one arm wrapped around his pillow, another one thrown over Felix's middle, tight and possessive. For a few seconds, Felix just grins at the ceiling, wide and so fucking happy he thinks he might just burst from it.
Then again, maybe it's just his bladder threatening to do that. Squirming out of Chan's grip takes some doing, especially once Chan half awakes and grumpily demands to know where Felix thinks he's going. Felix is disgustingly smitten over the whole thing, dropping kisses all over Chan's face, on top of his knuckles like some kind of knight from a storybook, promising to come back, until Chan finally relinquishes his hold.
Swiping Chan's jogging bottoms from the floor, Felix hastily pulls them on and legs it to the bathroom. Necessary business conducted, he hovers in the hallway, tongue worrying at the raw scrape on his bottom lip from Chan’s teeth, torn between the prospect of coffee and breakfast and the temptation of Chan, naked in the bed. In the end, he decides that there's an acceptable compromise of scavenging for snacks to go.
The kitchen is not empty. It shouldn't be surprising to find someone up but somehow it is. Felix had assumed everyone else was also sleeping and also possibly doing so at the other dorm, given how his intentions last night hadn't exactly been a secret. Instead, he comes face to face with Changbin, sitting at the kitchen table, an empty bowl in front of him, phone in one hand.
He looks up when Felix enters, eyebrows immediately shooting up, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face. Felix flushes, realising he's wearing nothing but jogging bottoms very clearly several sizes too big for him, and has to stop himself from crossing his arms defensively.
"Good morning," Changbin chirps. "And a very happy new year indeed, I assume?"
Felix flips him off but can't do anything about the smile taking over his expression, easily breaking through any surprise and embarrassment. He walks to the coffee maker, blessedly almost full.
Changbin snorts, and then yelps. "Gah! My innocent eyes!"
"What are you talking about?" Felix asks. "This is hardly the first time you've seen me topless."
"It is the first time I've seen you looking like you’ve been mauled by a vampire with blunt teeth.” Changbin is peering at him through his fingers, looking equal parts scandalised and gleeful.
For a moment, Felix considers slapping a hand to his neck but the damage is done and. Well. There’s a not insignificant part of him that wants people to see. “Won’t be the last either,” he says smugly, “better get used to it,” even though he’s pretty sure Changbin’s questionably innocent eyes will be safe once their public schedule picks up.
Possibly, and sadly, earlier, once Chan regains enough of his consciousness to survey the aftermath. Felix is already bracing himself for the needless apologies. Coffee was definitely the right choice.
He fills two mugs, rummages the drawers for some cereal bars and stuffs a few into his pockets. That’ll do.
“Why are you here?” Felix asks, turning back to Changbin.
“I live here,” he says, aiming for indignant but grinning too hard to really manage it.
Felix rolls his eyes. “Yes, but Seungmin doesn’t,” he observes sweetly. “Thought he would’ve persuaded you to stay away last night.”
Changbin honest to god splutters for a few seconds and Felix silently awards himself a point. “What? I mean, yes. He said that you… I did sleep over there.”
Felix takes a sip of his coffee and slowly raises an eyebrow.
“On the sofa,” Changbin grits out.
“Aww, better luck next time, hyung,” Felix consoles.
Changbin narrows his eyes at him but refuses to raise to the bait again. “We all slept over at the other dorm,” he says instead. “You’re welcome.”
And Felix, for all his teasing and being flustered, is grateful. “Thank you,” he says, wholly sincere, feeling warm and cared for. “Really.”
“Yeah well.” Changbin waves a dismissive hand at him. “We played rock-paper-scissors to see who would come back to scope the situation. I lost.”
“What situation?” That’s Chan’s voice, and both Felix and Changbin jump a bit, turning around.
Chan’s standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his boxers, hair a riot of curls and with faint pillow creases on his cheek and chest. He’s sleep soft and devastating and Felix is pretty sure he makes some kind of embarrassing half-whimper at the back of his throat.
“Felix.” Chan spots him, smile brightening his expression like a goddamn lighthouse. “You were taking your time, coming back.” There’s a hint of a pout in his voice, another of uncertainty.
“Just stopped for some snacks,” Felix is quick to reassure. He wants to go over and press himself into Chan’s bare chest, trail kisses all over his face until any trace of doubt about exactly where Felix wants to stay is erased. But. Well. Changbin. “And coffee.” He raises his mug and takes another sip, largely to occupy his mouth.
Chan’s eyes drift from the mug in Felix’s hand to the one waiting on the counter and then back to Felix, who sees the exact moment Chan registers what he’s wearing; Chan’s jogging bottoms, Chan’s marks all over his skin. And. Well. Apparently, that works to dispel any uncertainties, because Chan’s smile takes on a sharper edge, turning decidedly more… possessive.
“That for me?” Chan asks, and he could perceivably be talking about the coffee, but Felix is pretty sure he isn’t.
Either way, the answer is the same. “Yeah.” It comes out embarrassingly breathy and low but there’s nothing he can do about it. “It’s for you.” Confidence, Felix thinks faintly. It’s confidence he can see on Chan’s expression now, in every line of his body, and it looks damn good on him.
“Ooookay then!”
Felix and Chan jump, eyes snapping to Chanbin who claps his hands on his thighs and gets up, his gaze locked somewhere on the kitchen cabinets. “Look at the time, best get going. Need to, uh, be elsewhere. Urgently.”
Felix rolls his eyes and Chan laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Binnie,” he says. “I…”
“Extremely happy for you, hyung,” Changbin interrupts, clapping Chan’s shoulder. “Both of you.” He quirks a smile at Felix. “I’m going to go share the good news with the everyone else now. You two… Carry on, I guess.” He turns to go, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.
“Although…” Changbin stops at the doorway, looking back. “Best to keep an eye on your phones,” he says. “I’m almost hundred percent sure Minho was planning a family meal for this evening anyway, and as soon as I tell him about this,” he waves a hand between Chan and Felix a couple of times, complete with some frankly disturbing finger wiggles, “that’s gone to like a thousand percent definitely happening. There will be many courses and everyone is going to be absolutely obnoxious in taking the piss and asking questions I personally do not want to know the answers to so you better not be the oversharing type of a couple, okay? Okay.”
“…Tell Minho and the others we’ll be there.” Chan sounds equal parts resigned and touched, pinching the bridge of his nose but fighting a smile all the same.
Felix knows exactly how he feels. “Looking forward to it,” he says, and he’s not even lying.
Changbin barks a laugh and finally leaves.
Felix and Chan stare at each other in silence until the sound of the front door closing confirms that they are alone again.
Felix is the first one to break. “So… Coffee?” he asks, grabbing the other mug from the counter and offering it to Chan.
Wordlessly, Chan walks over, accepts the mug and takes a drink, his eyes never leaving Felix’s face.
Felix tries to do the same but he can feel the way his gaze keeps slipping down, tracing the lines of Chan’s chest, his flat stomach, the prominent vee of his pelvic muscles disappearing under the waistband of his boxers.
“Felix…” Chan’s voice is gruff with more than just sleep. He puts his own mug down on the counter, plucks Felix’s straight from his hand and does the same. “Can I…?”
Felix slaps a hand over Chan’s mouth. “Christopher Bang,” he says sternly, “I’m starting to think you want to show up to Minho’s dinner with a black eye. I swear to go—”
He can feel Chan’s grin against his palm, which is the only warning he gets.
Moving altogether too quickly for Felix’s peace of mind, Chan grabs hold of his wrist and pulls his hand away, stepping closer. At first, Felix thinks he’s going for a kiss but instead Chan bends down and wraps his arms around Felix’s thighs, lifts him off the ground and throws him over his shoulder. Felix makes an undignified screech, scrabbling for a hold as he dangles face down over Chan’s bare back, but quickly dissolves into a fit of delighted giggles as Chan unceremoniously carries him back toward the bedroom.
He's still laughing by the time Chan drops him back onto his messy bed, onto the sheets that smell like the two of them, happiness fizzing inside him, light and intoxicating. Unlike the buzz from the wine, Felix thinks as he reaches for Chan, both of them smiling too wide to even kiss properly, this is the kind of feeling that is only going to get stronger with time.
***