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Mingi’s hunched over his PS4 controller, hands sweating as he glares intently at the TV screen. Wooyoung's sitting next to him on their raggedy couch, fingers flying through memorized combo moves with his tongue caught between his teeth. It's been about three weeks since their most recent comeback, and with promotions over, they finally have a whole day to themselves to waste time as they see fit. Mingi and Wooyoung are the only ones in the dorm. Everyone else wanted to go out for some godforsaken reason, but Mingi was decidedly not in the mood to put on pants today. If Dispatch broke down their door right now, they'd get a generous eyeful of his ashy legs and exposed toes. It’d serve them right.
Now- in his boxers, wearing his comfiest, baggiest t-shirt, with delicious snacks within reach and in great company- everything should be amazing. Fucking heaven on earth. Except, he's getting his ass beat at Street Fighter. So. A little less amazing. Actually, he's pissed.
Wooyoung glances over at Mingi with that cat-like mischief in his eyes, unable to hold back a toothy smirk.
“What's wrong Mingi-ya? You seem like you're having a hard time.”
And Mingi loves Wooyoung, he really does. He has that sort of manic, unpredictable energy that’s a guaranteed good time…usually. But right now was not one of those times. Right now, strangling Wooyoung sounded like a very fun and healthy activity, but Mingi wasn't quite delusional enough to convince himself that “seven makes one team” had nearly the same ring to it, so.
“Fucking- stay still!”
He's so low on health you can hardly see the sliver of red in his HP box. Meanwhile Wooyoung’s HP is taunting him, a shining bright white that reaches just over the halfway point. He can't let this stand.
So in a desperate, admittedly pathetic attempt at sabotage, Mingi lunges over to wrangle the controller out of Wooyoung's grubby little hands.
Wooyoung lets out a high-pitched shriek, yanking it out of reach at the last second.
“So you're not just a sore loser, but a cheater on top of that?! You know what, I was gonna go easy on you, but just for that-”
“Wait- Youngie! Yah!!”
His protests fall on deaf ears. Faster than he can track, Wooyoung flicks his fingers and presses a series of buttons in quick succession. Mingi is forced to watch with tears in his eyes as his character is absolutely blasted out of the stratosphere with a tornado of spinning kicks and a super-powered punch.
Mingi groans unintelligibly, slumping pitifully against Wooyoung and shaking him by the shoulder. His head sways with the motion like a spineless bobblehead. “Wooyoungggg,” he whines dramatically.
Wooyoung sighs and tosses the controller to the side, lazily pushing Mingi off him until he slumps over in a heap. “You get no sympathy from me. Just admit it already. I'm way out of your league.”
“Huh?!” Mingi jumps, scrambling to sit back up and point an accusatory finger in Wooyoung's face. “That’s not fucking true! I- I just wasn't using my main that time! Let's have a rematch!”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes hard at Mingi's antics. “Fine. Pick aaaany character you want.” Wooyoung leans forward, resting his face in his hands and blinking up at Mingi with feigned innocence. “Go ahead, Mingi-ya. Teach me a lesson.” The corner of his mouth twitches, and Mingi wants to smack that stupid smirk right off his face, but he'll settle for kicking his ass in-game instead.
He huffs heavily, returning his attention to the TV screen and trying to tune out any further instigating as much as he can.
Mingi squints at the character select screen- carefully assessing his options- but before he can make a decision, his stomach growls obnoxiously loud. Shit, right. He hasn't had an actual meal all day. He's just been munching on random snacks while they play video games, because, priorities. Mingi gnaws on his bottom lip, fully intending to ignore the interruption, when Wooyoung pipes up from beside him.
“Dude, if you’re hungry, it’s not gonna be a fair match. I don’t want you making any excuses later, so here.”
Wooyoung picks up a piece of gimbap from the coffee table in front of them, leaning over and hovering it close to Mingi’s mouth. “Say ‘ahhhh’.”
Mingi, incredulous but not one to turn down food, leans forward to accept the offered morsel. Behind Wooyoung’s hand, he catches the upward tick of the man’s mouth, and the realization sinks in. He’s been had.
Before Mingi can bite down, Wooyoung pulls the gimbap away and shoves the entire thing into his own waiting mouth. Mingi clenches his jaw so hard he thinks he feels it creak.
“You-!”
Wooyoung looks smug, chewing with his mouth open just to be gross. He smacks his lips and then licks them theatrically, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Mingi’s patience snaps, and he pounces before Wooyoung can even finish swallowing. But Wooyoung knows Mingi too fucking well and preemptively launches himself out of his seat, sprinting around to the other side of their shitty couch and half-ducking behind it for cover.
“Yah!! Fucking coward!” Mingi yells.
Wooyoung grins wide, then puts on the fakest, most pitiful pout and gives Mingi little finger hearts over the back of the couch. “I love you Mingi, please don't say mean things to me.” Mingi wonders how the fuck Wooyoung got those anime-ass sparkles in his eyes, and the thought just serves to piss him off even more. Devil spawn should not look that cute.
Either way, that sad attempt at playing the sympathy card was not going to sway him. The time for retribution is now.
Mingi doesn't give Wooyoung the satisfaction of a response, instead lunging with a fake sidestep to try and juke him out. Wooyoung flinches, which is satisfying, but he doesn't bolt like Mingi was hoping for. This time, when Mingi feigns to the right, Wooyoung barely twitches, a smirk gradually overtaking his face. Mingi frowns. It's obvious that he’s enjoying this little game, but that's fine. He won't be, soon enough.
After a long moment of complete stillness, Mingi picks a direction and bursts into a sprint. Wooyoung squeals and immediately books it in the same direction, circling around the couch as if it could possibly save him from Mingi's wrath.
…To be fair, it was definitely making his job a lot harder. Turns out it's not that fucking easy to run around bulky furniture, especially while trying not to bust one’s toes on said furniture. And it doesn't exactly help that the floor periodically transitions between carpet and hardwood, throwing off his stride. Thank god he was barefoot, or else he would've gotten a taste of the wood paneling by now.
Mingi’s getting flashbacks to middle school gym class, but he hasn't actually made any headway. Poster child for patience that he is, it takes a grand total of 15 seconds for Mingi to get sick of running in circles. Without warning, he stops short, digging his heels to pivot and switch directions.
“Oh, shit!” Wooyoung startles and nearly stumbles, but recovers quickly, laughing breathlessly as he throws himself in the opposite direction. Mingi watches his stupid little ponytail bob as he runs. He’s annoyingly fast.
Through giggles, Wooyoung tries to plead his case. “C'mon, Mingi, it was just a joke!”
Mingi barks out a laugh. “You're dead meat Jung Wooyoung,” he announces with as much bass behind his voice as he can muster mid-sprint. Rounding a corner, he pushes off the back of the couch to give himself more momentum. “I hope you're fucking scared, cause when I catch you I swear to gaAH-!”
He doesn't know what happened. One second, he's chasing Wooyoung. The next, the floor is flying out from under him, and his back collides with it instead. He lets out an “oof” as the impact forces all the air from his lungs. Luckily he doesn't hit his head, but he’s still left kind of dazed for a second, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
He hears Wooyoung finally stop, fighting to catch his breath. “Holy shit,” he pants. “Are you okay?”
Mingi groans wordlessly from the floor, blinking blearily up at the ceiling. Slowly sitting up and rubbing his sore back, he barely has time to wallow in self-pity before something catches his eye.
He squints.
Looking conspicuous as hell a few feet off to the side is… one of Wooyoung’s dirty socks.
This is it. This is when Mingi finally kills him.
Suddenly regaining all strength, Mingi swipes the sock up aggressively, scrambling to his feet and shoving it in Wooyoung's direction. “This is your sock, you bitch!” Wooyoung's eyes blow up like saucers and Mingi throws the offending object in his face. “Are you trying to fucking kill me?!”
Even after being attacked by a sock, Wooyoung still has the decency to do a quick once-over of Mingi’s condition before anything else. After confirming Mingi was definitely not dying though, and was very much just being a drama queen, all bets were off.
“So, wait-” Wooyoung slaps his hand over his mouth just in time to muffle a snort. “Am I getting this right? You're telling me- you ate shit because you slipped on my sock like a goddamn Mario Kart banana peel?”
Mingi stares at him in silence.
The volume goes from zero to a hundred as Wooyoung explodes into high-pitched laughter. He doubles over, clutches his stomach- the whole nine yards. After wheezing for a while, he visibly holds his breath in an attempt to get himself under control. Straightening up slowly, he hesitantly meets Mingi’s eyes- and proceeds to lose his shit for the second time.
Mingi can feel his temples start to throb. After another minute, Wooyoung finally manages to speak.
“Oh. My god. I'm so, so sorry.” He gasps, wiping actual fucking tears from his eyes. “I swear- I swear I didn't leave it there on purpose, you gotta believe me.”
Mingi thinks he feels his eye twitch. “I’m gonna take that sock and shove it up your-“ He doesn't even bother finishing his threat, vaulting clumsily over the couch. He damn near topples the whole thing over before grappling with a screeching Wooyoung and dragging him to the floor.
Wooyoung struggles, but can't put up a proper fight with all his giggling, eventually just giving up and allowing Mingi to pin his arms beside his head, pliant beneath him. Of course he can’t even give Mingi the satisfaction of pretending to resist.
From the floor, Wooyoung shoots Mingi a dazzling smile, but he knows better. That expression is way too innocent to mean anything good, and he has his suspicions confirmed when Wooyoung raises one manicured eyebrow, his smile taking on a sharp edge.
“Chasing me around? Pinning me down?” He tuts in disapproval. “Song Mingi, I didn't know you were into that sort of thing.”
Mingi chokes, his grip on Wooyoung faltering for just a second, but that was all he needed. Sensing the opening, Wooyoung takes the opportunity to forcefully flip them over. Startled, Mingi lets out a yelp as his world is turned upside down for the second time that day. Damn, Wooyoung’s stronger than he looks. That doesn't make him feel any type of way at all.
Mingi glares up at Wooyoung, grumbling petulantly. “Talk about cheating.”
Wooyoung shrugs. “You cheated, I cheated. Now we're even.”
“We are not fucking even! That sock was an assassination attempt!”
Wooyoung bites his lip, clearly on the verge of another laughing fit.
Mingi sputters, face red. “I’m serious!! You owe me!”
Wooyoung acquiesces. “Okay okay. I’ll make it up to you, yeah? How about I, uh… do all your chores for a week?”
Mingi pauses to seriously assess how much his broken pride is worth to him. “…Two.”
“Deal.”
“And if anyone asks, you lost a bet.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes dramatically. “Okay, your highness.”
As much as he wanted to exact his revenge on principle, Mingi couldn't deny that this kind of bullshit was the exact reason he had wanted to spend the day with Wooyoung in the first place. Even if the joke was at his expense, he had to admit he was having fun.
Letting out a content sigh, Wooyoung lays down flush on top of him and says, “I'm so glad my sock didn't kill you, Mingi. Who would I cuddle with then?”
Mingi raises his eyebrow. “...Literally any other member of the group?”
“But you're, like. Big. It's better.” Mingi dutifully ignores the butterflies that lodge themselves in his stomach at that comment. He clears his throat.
“Yunho is taller than me.”
Wooyoung huffs. “By like- two centimeters. Stop trying to get out of this.”
Mingi cranes his neck to stare at the top of Wooyoung’s head. “What about our rematch though?” He is very concerned about this.
Wooyoung glances up at Mingi before humming to himself. “Forget the game for a second. Let's just stay like this for a while.”
Mingi’s not sure how this could possibly be more important than crowning the Street Fighter ultimate champion, but he’s not in the mood to start another argument, so he goes along with it anyway. He lets his head flop back down and shuffles around in an attempt to get settled in. Doing his best to ignore the face pressed up against his sternum, Mingi turns his head to stare blankly at the TV and contemplate his life choices. When he woke up this morning, all he had wanted to do was kick Wooyoung's ass at a fighting game. Instead he gets to watch blonde metrosexual wolverine do idle animations while being pinned to the living room floor. Well. At least Wooyoung was warm. And he sorta… smelled good. Whatever.
Mingi shakes his head and closes his eyes, deciding he might as well relax if he’s gonna be held hostage. He sighs, loosening up his muscles on the exhale. Considering his position, this was actually surprisingly comfortable. He can admit that Wooyoung's weight is a welcome one, kind of like a… really annoying security blanket.
Mingi gets about a minute of peace and quiet before Wooyoung, the cuddly bastard, randomly starts nuzzling at his throat, nosing at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. All things considered, it’s completely normal Wooyoung behavior. For some reason though, it puts Mingi on edge. His wariness is justified when one of Wooyoung’s hands starts sliding down Mingi’s outstretched arm, tracing his skin lightly enough to give him goosebumps. Mingi’s eyes flutter open, inhaling sharply as the wandering hand settles over his own. He glances down, vaguely wondering if they're about to hold hands, or something equally embarrassing. But instead, Wooyoung just rhymically strokes up and down his palm with his fingertips, and somehow it's so, so much worse. He doesn't know why he feels so exposed, as if fucking- caressing the palm of someone's hand is sexy in the slightest, but for some reason it's like the sensitivity is turned up to a hundred.
Mingi feels like he's standing on the edge of a cliff while Wooyoung carries on without a care in the world. He smirks lazily, his breath warm against Mingi’s collarbone. “Your heart is beating so fast dude, relax.”
And that's just the fucking thing- Mingi can't relax. So instead he just laughs awkwardly, hoping that Wooyoung will let it go. But he must sense that something is off, because he pauses, leaning back to look at Mingi properly. With Wooyoung's face literal inches from his own, Mingi suddenly finds he can't tear his eyes away. He stares at the little mole under Wooyoung's left eye, lingers on the soft slope of his nose. He catches his eyes wandering lower and quickly snaps them back up, praying the warmth in his face doesn't look as obvious as it feels. Wooyoung’s gaze sharpens, and he studies Mingi for a long moment. “Ah,” he says, a single syllable somehow loaded with meaning. Then, he shifts, moving back slightly to swing his leg over Mingi’s hips, straddling him. Mingi's brain screeches to a halt.
Giving his most valiant effort to string a coherent sentence together, Mingi stutters out, “W-what are you doing?”
Wooyoung doesn’t answer for another moment, tongue poking out against his bottom lip. “...you like this, huh?”
Blinking hard against the accusation, Mingi forces out another laugh, this time with a more panicked edge. “Dude, what? What are you making this weird for?”
“No no no, don't pin this on me. That shit is literally written all over your face.” Wooyoung grins. “You totally wanna kiss me right now.”
A shock of anxiety or… something, electric sharp, runs through him. Mingi’s eyes go wide, and he hastily blurts out a denial. “What the fuck? No way!”
Wooyoung hums thoughtfully, considering. “Okay then. I wanna kiss you though.”
Any possible retort catches in his throat, struck dumb by Wooyoung's shameless response. His first instinct is to ask if this is a joke, but despite the mischievous curve of the man’s lips, he can see in Wooyoung's eyes that he’s dead serious. So he settles for the next most rational response.
“You- huh?”
“I wanna kiss you.” Wooyoung repeats, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to say. “So, can I?”
“Uh-uhm.” Mingi swallows, and Wooyoung's eyes immediately track the movement of his throat. Almost unwillingly, his eyes drift down to Wooyoung's lips again. Mingi's heart is a bass drum in his ears, and this is actually, certifiably insane, but… truthfully, he wants to do it. Given the fact that he'd rather die than admit that out loud, he takes the direct route instead, grabbing Wooyoung’s face and kissing him firmly.
To Mingi’s satisfaction, Wooyoung genuinely seems surprised to be beaten to the punch. Mingi only gets a second to feel smug about it though, his mind blanking the instant Wooyoung's lips start to move. Honestly, it's been an embarrassingly long time since he’s been this close to anyone, and he feels his stomach flip at just how damn soft Wooyoung's lips feel pressed against his own. While Mingi tries desperately to get his shit together, the other man adapts quickly, wasting no time in taking control of the kiss. Mingi’s breath hitches as slender fingers guide his chin gently upward. Wooyoung tilts his own head to a better angle, slotting their lips back together, and- oh. Mingi’s eyebrow twitches. Fuck, that feels nice.
Mingi tentatively repositions his hands, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung's shoulders so they're pressed nearly chest-to-chest. Sensing his growing comfort, Wooyoung practically melts against him, his body impossibly warm. Mingi finds himself getting lost in the way Wooyoung kisses, slow but unapologetic in its deliberateness. Their lips mold together seamlessly, the soft noises barely audible over their breathing. Mingi’s so caught up in the sensation that it takes him a moment too long to realize that Wooyoung is pulling away, unconsciously chasing his lips.
Cognitive functions temporarily offline, Mingi slowly opens his eyes and is met with Wooyoung's undivided attention, a wry smirk plastered on his face despite the obvious blush.
“...What?” Mingi questions after a moment of silence.
“You're smiling,” Wooyoung purrs in self-satisfaction.
Mingi immediately tamps down the dopey expression that's crept its way onto his face. Not that he stood any real chance of acting nonchalant about this, but being called out was still a bruise to his ego.
‘No, I'm not. Shut up,” he retorts, lying through his teeth. He doesn't give Wooyoung a chance to say anything, dragging him down for another kiss and essentially forcing him to comply.
Wooyoung's answering giggles are promptly smothered, humming in satisfaction as their lips meet for the second time. He moves his hand to card his fingers through Mingi’s hair, nails gently grazing his scalp. Without his permission, Mingi’s entire body relaxes into it, a sigh escaping his lips. Almost cautiously, Wooyoung opens his mouth against Mingi’s and traces the plush seam of his lips with his tongue. The shock is electric and immediate. Mingi gasps at the wet sensation and immediately finds his mouth full, Wooyoung’s tongue brushing insistently against his own and making his head spin. Mingi lets out a throaty moan at the feeling, their tongues tangling in a battle for dominance that Mingi was quite frankly not that interested in winning. With one hand, Wooyoung grabs Mingi firmly by the jaw, as if Mingi wasn't already exactly where he wanted him. Mindlessly, Mingi fists his free hand in Wooyoung's ponytail and pulls, making him whine sharp and high-pitched. Mingi shivers. Fuck, what the fuck.
Wooyoung breaks the kiss with a breathless laugh, fixing Mingi with a heated look through his eyelashes. “That was good, princess. Who knew you had it in you?”
Mingi was still recovering from having Wooyoung literally whine in his ear, so it really wasn't fair for him to suddenly turn around and use that pet name like everything was fucking normal. Not to mention the fact that Wooyoung was clearly baiting him, fishing for a reaction. Even still, he wasn't above biting. “Yeah, obviously. You know I've kissed people before.”
Wooyoung cocks an eyebrow, humming thoughtfully. “That might be true, but still- I thought you'd be too nervous to put your hands on me. Considering I’m the hottest person you’ve ever kissed.”
Mingi’s brows furrow in confusion. “...How do you know who I’ve kissed?
A shit-eating grin spreads across Wooyoung’s face, his eyes sparkling with glee. “Oh, I don't. I'm just the hottest, like, in general.”
Mingi’s stunned at the sheer audacity for a moment before he barks out a laugh. “You're full of shit.”
Wooyoung leans in close, holding Mingi’s face with both hands to stare him directly in the eyes. “Mingi, baby. If you didn’t agree at least a little, you wouldn't be under me right now.”
Mingi can't help it- he gapes. He feels pinned to the spot, in a weirdly metaphorical way. Yet not a single retort comes to mind when all he wants is for that annoying fucking mouth to be on his again.
Wooyoung’s eyes are dark as he brushes back a strand of Mingi’s hair. Although it's gentle, he feels an undercurrent of pity emanating from the gesture, like Mingi was a sad puppy from one of those charity commercials that get shoved down your throat every winter. It honestly toes the line of degrading, but once Wooyoung starts nosing at the side of Mingi’s face, all possible objections fly out the window. The other man hums, trailing across Mingi’s cheek and peppering it with dragging, lethargic kisses.
“So pretty, Mingi-ya.” Wooyoung murmurs from deep in his throat. Mingi huffs out a disbelieving laugh. This time, he doesn't bother fighting the satisfied quirk of his lips. If Wooyoung wants to give him shit for it, so be it.
Slowly, Wooyoung's kisses start wandering downward over his jawline. Mingi licks his lips, sliding his hands under the back of Wooyoung's shirt to press against warm, bare skin. Wooyoung briefly presses one hand over his, encouraging the contact as he descends even further to latch onto Mingi’s neck. Chaste kisses turn open-mouthed as he flattens his tongue to lick lazy stripes along Mingi’s pulse point. Still a bit kiss-drunk, Mingi hums softly, his eyes slipping shut as he turns his head to give Wooyoung more access. He's finally starting to realize that Wooyoung's affections are dangerously easy to give into, but right now, he can't find it in himself to care. He’s busy savoring the feeling of Wooyoung's teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of his throat when he gets the sudden inkling that he's forgetting something important. Oh, right- he's a fucking idol.
“Fuck, wait-” Mingi starts, trying to shake himself out of his reverie. Wooyoung decidedly does not wait, so Mingi pushes him by the shoulder in an attempt to dislodge him. “Dude, the makeup noonas will skin me alive if they catch me with a hickey!”
Wooyoung pauses, blinks, then groans into Mingi’s neck. “Shit, you're right.“ He sounds genuinely frustrated. “Damn, I really wanted to bite you though.”
Mingi barks out a laugh, covering his eyes with his hand as the ridiculousness the situation really starts to sink in. “Seriously,” he mutters under his breath. “Is this for real?”
Lifting his head, Wooyoung looks down at Mingi with an affronted look on his face. “Yah, are you taking my problems lightly?”
That just makes Mingi laugh even harder, halfway out of his mind and with no filter left anymore. “Woo, you're so fucking weird. It's not like the company doesn't feed you, so why do you always act like a hungry kitten? It's embarrassing.”
Wooyoung nearly chokes on his spit, ears turning red. “A what??”
Mingi just barely refrains from laughing again. “Oh my god, nothing. Just forget it and kiss me again.”
Instead of complying, Wooyoung suddenly sits up, spine straighter than he (or Mingi, apparently) will ever be. His brows furrow, a serious expression on his face. “I'll give you one chance. Take that shit back right now.”
It's stupid. It's so fucking stupid when they've been making out for the past… he doesn't even know how long. Not long enough, as far as he was concerned. The affection-addled part of Mingi just wants to roll over and give Wooyoung what he wants so they can get back to what they were doing. But like, this is still Wooyoung, and Wooyoung is a shithead. So, naturally, Mingi feels his stubborn streak flaring right back up where it left off.
“No,” he says, expression carefully blank.
Wooyoung pauses, then narrows his eyes dangerously. “Oh yeah? Cool, that's- totally cool.” He tongues at his canine tooth wolfishly, nodding to himself. “Hungry kitten, huh? Fuck it. I'll show you a hungry kitten.”
Wooyoung grabs Mingi by the arms, holding him down and lunging forward to sink his teeth into the meatiest part of his bicep. Mingi screams, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw Wooyoung off.
“Ow! You fucking psycho!”
Mingi flails around, trying to twist his body out from under Wooyoung's weight. “Why are you so goddamn heavy?” Mingi grunts as Wooyoung digs his knees into his sides in an attempt to keep him in place. “If you're not gonna kiss me, then fuck off!”
Wooyoung lets out a snort, even as he actively wrestles with Mingi's incessant squirming. “Take back what you said and we can make out all day for all I care.”
“No! All you did was prove me right just now!”
Wooyoung opens his mouth to bite out a retort, but then he suddenly freezes in place, body tense.
Mingi freezes too, frowning at the sudden ceasefire. After a moment of stillness, he ragdolls, arms dropping to the floor to see if it elicits any reaction. Wooyoung doesn't even acknowledge him, instead turning to peer backward over his shoulder. Mingi huffs, put out at the lack of attention. “Yah, what are you-”
Wooyoung slaps a hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. In the ensuing silence, Mingi becomes hyper-aware of the rustling happening behind the front door- footsteps, and the sound of the keypad lock audible from the other side.
Mingi’s eyes go wide. His gaze shifts to Wooyoung, who's already looking at him. They stare at each other, their compromised states sinking in as the seconds before disaster tick by in slow motion. Both their lips are red and shiny, their faces flushed from both the kiss and the chaotic wrestling match that followed. Mingi’s clothes are in disarray, his shirt rumpled and riding up, while Wooyoung's half-updo has been almost completely undone, his hair tie hanging on by a thread. Wooyoung blinks slowly, and a manic smile takes over his face. “Ohohoh- fuck.”
Clumsily, Wooyoung climbs off of Mingi, dragging him up off the floor with a grunt. Mingi’s legs feel a little bit like jelly, but he manages to stay on his feet.
“You- go hide somewhere! I'll deal with whoever it is.”
“But-”
“Just go!” Wooyoung whisper-yells. He shoves Mingi forward and he wobbles his way to the nearest bedroom- it looks like San’s and Jongho's- before closing the door as quietly as he can manage. With the immediate crisis averted, Mingi turns his back to the door and slumps against it, letting gravity slowly drag him to the floor. As he holds his breath, he can distantly hear the front door open and close, some general movement and muffled voices filtering in from the living room. He can't quite make out who else is talking, their low voice completely overpowered by Wooyoung's higher-pitched one, but Mingi decides he doesn't have the energy to exert on eavesdropping anyway. His arm is starting to throb vaguely where Wooyoung bit him. Letting out a breath, Mingi runs a hand through his unkempt hair, taking a moment to gather his bearings after being exiled so abruptly. Being alone was oddly sobering. Like, without Wooyoung there to distract him, everything that just happened felt so much more… real.
He’s not sure how much time passes. He must end up zoning out at some point, because he gets a wake-up call a little while later when the bedroom door cracks open and bumps him in the back of the head.
“Oh, shit!” It's Wooyoung.
Mingi wordlessly scoots out of the way, giving Wooyoung space to squeeze himself through the door and close it behind him. He immediately makes a beeline towards Mingi, crouching down to rub his head haphazardly in a frantic attempt at soothing him. “What the hell, Mingi-ya?” he scolds, tone borderline whining. “Why were you sitting in front of the door?”
“Uh, yeah... my bad.”
Given that this response doesn't answer his question at all, Wooyoung doesn't speak for a moment, eyeing Mingi suspiciously. Then, he straightens up and turns around to flick on the light switch, making Mingi realize he's been sitting in darkness this whole time.
While he's busy squinting against the light, Wooyoung drags Mingi up off the floor and deposits him onto San’s bed. Then he reaches over to grab one of the man’s extensive collection of furry friends, shoving an orange pokemon plushie securely into Mingi’s hands. Standing with his hands on his hips, he plants himself in front of him with the air of a disappointed babysitter.
“That's your emotional support Charmander. Now tell me why you're spiraling.”
“I'm not-!” Mingi jerks his head up, only to be silenced by Wooyoung’s finger.
“Don’t lie. I had to scrape you up off the floor just now.”
Mingi weakly pushes Wooyoung's hand away, sighing as he lets his head flop forward. He stares down at his feet, wiggling his toes in the carpet. “I just. This isn't exactly how I imagined my afternoon going, I guess?”
Wooyoung hums, pursing his lips. “...Okay, fair. But it's more than that, so keep talking.”
Mingi frowns. How the hell was he even supposed to articulate… whatever this was? Unconsciously, he clutches the Charmander closer, leaning his chin on its head. His brows furrow as he opens his mouth again. “To be… honest. I'm kind of afraid I liked it too much. Which, like, would be fine with any random stranger, but you're one of my best friends, so…”
Wooyoung's face softens as understanding dawns on him. “You think things will get weird between us, or something?”
Mingi bites his lip. “I mean, maybe. I don't know.”
Wooyoung sighs, plopping down next to Mingi on the bed. “Well, first of all, let me ask you this. Do you want to do it again?”
Embarrassingly, Mingi didn't even have to think twice about his answer. “Honestly, yeah.”
“Good, because you know I'm greedy as hell when it comes to affection. And you're amazing, and hot, and genuinely a good person. Obviously I'm not gonna turn you down.”
Oh. A strange warmth suddenly spreads throughout Mingi's body. He doesn't know what his face is doing, so he rushes to cover it with the Charmander. He feels a pair of hands rest on his shoulders.
“Wait Mingi, seriously. I need you to look at me when I say this.”
Reluctantly, he lowers the plushie, forcing himself to meet Wooyoung’s gaze. The man’s staring at him earnestly, with possibly the most open look Mingi's ever seen on his face.
“Everyone in Ateez- yes, that includes you- are literally my favorite people in the entire world. We can fight and fuck and everything in between, but I'll always adore you no matter what. Nothing will ever get in the way of that, okay?”
Mingi stares at Wooyoung with wide eyes, his mouth slightly ajar. He just looked so… convinced, like he truly believed there was no force on the planet that could break their bond. Mingi lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, a tightness in his chest seeming to unravel. Even if his answer seemed deceptively simple, Mingi trusted Wooyoung. If he said they would be okay, they would be. Mingi gives a stilted nod. “…Yeah, okay.”
Wooyoung fixes Mingi with a lingering stare, as if trying to make sure he actually believes it. Seemingly satisfied with what he sees, he nods in approval. “Good. Since we're on the same page now, there's no need to feel awkward, right?”
Mingi nods again, more firmly this time. “I- thank you. I sorta needed that.”
Wooyoung smiles wryly. “I know. Leave it to me to be the practical one out of the two of us.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, taking a stabilizing breath. “Seriously though, you kinda had me worried there for a second.” He shakes his head, almost to himself. “I kinda thought you were gonna ask me to forget this whole thing ever happened.”
That has Mingi straightening up with a jolt. “What??” He blurts out, a little too loudly for someone technically still trying to be discreet. “No! I'm not that much of a dickhead. I just needed, like… time to process and stuff.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s a little hard not to jump to conclusions when a guy practically goes catatonic after kissing you.” Mingi winces a little at that. Uh, yeah. Probably not his proudest moment.
Wooyoung just sighs wistfully, giving Mingi an expectant look. “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.”
Mingi groans, too emotionally drained to deal with whatever Wooyoung had in store for him next. “Don't you think I've been through enough today?”
“Oh quit whining, it's easy,” Wooyoung counters, leaning in disturbingly close. His breath tickles Mingi’s ear as he murmurs, “Just admit you love me. Say, ‘I love you, Wooyoungie’.”
Everything Mingi's ever done in his life has led him to this moment right now. Really, he only has himself to blame, but like hell is he gonna take responsibility. He fake-retches and shoves Wooyoung away forcefully, but the other man is clearly unphased, letting out his witch-ass laugh as he topples over on the bed. “I can't fucking stand you. Get out.”
Wooyoung has an obnoxious grin on his face when he stands, brushing imaginary dirt off his clothes. “Fine. I’ll leave. But I know the truth, Min- gi- yah.” He emphasizes the last three syllables, blowing Mingi a frankly disgusting air kiss. Apparently satisfied with getting the last word, he starts making his way out. Once his hand touches the doorknob though, he stops abruptly and turns around. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I'm gonna order some chicken. What flavor do you want?”
Thrown off by the random change in subject, Mingi blinks in confusion. “Wait, what? You’re suddenly buying chicken?”
“Oh yeah, I’m bribing Yeosang since he definitely knows about…” Wooyoung gestures between them vaguely with his hand. “…this.”
Mingi almost falls off the bed. “What?!”
Wooyoung scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, his smile toeing the line of a grimace. “Yeah… I really tried to convince him it wasn’t what it looked like, but he's known me for so long, he's basically like my personal lie detector. Sorry.”
Mingi groans, knowing this is a development he'll have to deal with later, but the thought of food has his forgotten hunger returning with a vengeance. Mingi's stomach growls loudly, and the issue of Yeosang's newfound blackmail material drops down to a C-tier problem, at best. He flops back onto San’s bed petulantly. “Boneless. Sweet chili sauce. Cheesy tteok. And a milkis.”
Wooyoung's expression immediately brightens, foolishly interpreting Mingi's cooperation as forgiveness. “Anything for you, princess.”
“You’re banned from calling me that!”
Wooyoung dodges the Charmander aimed for his head, his giggles following him out the door.