Kris and Kyungsoo are the couple that shouldn’t make sense, in any way. Kris is, at first glance, highly intimidating and has confused the heck out of more than one freshman when they thought he was the professor in their class. Kyungsoo is, at first glance, easily mistaken for a college freshman and has been approached for casual conversation by people much younger than himself. Then once people get to know them, they realize that Kris is the biggest dork on the face of the planet, and Kyungsoo is incredibly dangerous and not to be underestimated.

But maybe that’s why they work so well. Their friends like to say that their souls got switched up, Kris should have been in Kyungsoo’s body, and vice versa. Those kinds of comments tend to make Kris get all thoughtful and Kyungsoo start demanding to know just what the heck is wrong with the body he has, he’ll mess Baekhyun up to prove it if he has to, he’s a martial artist damnit.

“I’m not short!” Kyungsoo spits, cheeks pink and eyes bright from alcohol. He points at Baekhyun. “I bet I’m taller than you! I’m stronger than you that’s for sure! It’s not my fault I’m surrounded by obnoxiously tall people. You wanna fight? Let’s go bro, fight me now! I’ll get you and I’ll do it with one hand tied behind my back! Kris, hold me back!!”

Kris wraps his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist, tugs Kyungsoo off his barstool, and into his lap. Kyungsoo lets out a screech and flails; Kris nuzzles into Kyungsoo’s neck and plants a sloppy kiss on his favorite spot—a triad of freckles that form a perfect triangle on the side of Kyungsoo’s neck.

“Shush,” Kris tells him, “You’re going to strain your voice and you have class tomorrow.”

Kyungsoo relaxes slightly, though he continues to glare at Baekhyun.

“Oh, and Kyungsoo?”

“Yes?”

“Baekhyun passed out in the middle of that speech. And you’re not far behind.”

Kyungsoo blinks. Indeed, Baekhyun is slumped over the bar, mouth open and hand still clutching his glass.

“I’m much more dignified,” Kyungsoo sniffs.

“You are,” Kris agrees.

Joonmyun comes over and nudges Baekhyun’s shoulder. “C’mon, Baek, Chanyeol’s here to get you and I have to close up.”

Baekhyun snuffles and burrows his head under his arms.

Joonmyun sighs. “I’m so glad you guys only drink in my bar. I can’t imagine anyone else would put up with this .”

“That’s why you’re the best,” Kyungsoo says.

“Ready to go, then?” Kris asks.

Kyungsoo nods and tries to stand, only to flop back into Kris’ lap. “Carry me, please?” he whines.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

As Kris buckles Kyungsoo into the car, Kyungsoo grabs his wrist. “I lied earlier.”

“About what?” Kris asks.

Kyungsoo mumbles, “Joonmyun isn’t the best, you are.”

Kris kisses his forehead. “You’re adorable.”

Kyungsoo never drinks enough to give himself a truly bad hangover, rather he drinks a little more each month and slowly builds a tolerance, which is why his hangovers are curable with a nice shower and some coffee. His class is late, and Kris has already left for the day. Kyungsoo rolls out of bed and drags himself to the bathroom—he’s not super hungover and it’s not that early but it doesn’t mean he has to be any happier about getting up in the morning. He strips and gets into the shower, still trying to get his eyes to open all the way, and he turns on the water only to get blasted in the face.

“GODDAMNIT!” Kyungsoo yells, jumping back in shock. He slips and narrowly avoids falling backwards, but he does bang his elbow really hard on the edge of the sliding door. He doubles over, blinking tears and lukewarm water out of his eyes, and through gritted teeth he makes a vow.

“I’m going to kill you, Kris Wu.”

Kyungsoo’s elbow is still smarting when he gets to his evening class. This is the one that Kris co-teaches with him, History of Asia Before 500 AD. In addition to teaching the history of Asia, the course offers students a chance to get up close with history itself by bringing in pieces of art from the museum. It’s a revolutionary class, because the college partnered with the National museum to make it happen, which is why Kris is here. Kyungsoo is the history Professor, and Kris is a curator at the museum, so he’s in charge of making sure the artifacts make it through each class in one piece.

Kyungsoo is the first one in the classroom, and he takes a moment to send a text to his boyfriend.

‘You are dead meat when I get my hands on you.’

A minute later the door opens and Kris rushes in, tie askew and looking aghast. “What did I do?!”

It’s hard for Kyungsoo be so mad when Kris is in front of him, looking like the giant dork that he is, but Kyungsoo’s elbow really hurts.

“You messed with the shower head,” He says, “And it got me right in the face and I fell and now I’m going to have a huge bruise on my elbow!”

For a half second Kyungsoo thinks Kris is going to laugh at him, but instead Kris looks appropriately sorry and he grabs Kyungsoo’s hand and kisses it quickly. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Mollified for now, Kyungsoo puts his bruised elbow out of his mind and gets ready for the class. It’s a small one, only 25 students, and they have a fairly informal environment. Kyungsoo’s students tend to be those who major in the subject he teaches, and they all say that he’s a good teacher, though they warn prospective students that if they don’t put in effort, neither will Kyungsoo.

Kris certainly livens up the atmosphere, and Kyungsoo thinks it’s because of him that the class has been so popular in the four semesters they’ve taught it. Thus far few students have been privy to their relationship status—they do a good job of keeping their personal life out of the classroom. But once the last student files out of the room and Kris has packed away the museum pieces, Kyungsoo no longer considers the classroom his.

“Did you drive here?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I did, you?”

“Took the bus,” Kyungsoo says. “So you can start making it up to me by driving me home.”

Kris kisses Kyungsoo’s cheek and puts an arm around his shoulders. “I missed you today.”

Kyungsoo slips his arm around Kris’ waist. “I missed you too.”

“How’s your head?”

“Fine, how’s Baekhyun’s, have you heard?”

Kris smirks. “You out drank him again.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo whispers. “I am unstoppable.”

Kris looks like he’s ready to argue, but thinks better of it when Kyungsoo shoots him a glare.

Instead Kris asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

To that, Kyungsoo has an excellent answer. “It’s Friday night, and neither of us is going anywhere tomorrow. I propose getting cake.”

“Cake, for dinner?”

“You have making up to do!” Kyungsoo sings.

“What I meant was, cake for dinner! Chocolate, right?”

“Is there any other kind?”

Kyungsoo wakes up on Saturday morning to the smell of toast and bacon. Kris must have woken up, which means it’s probably late. Kyungsoo rolls out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom, not bothering with his glasses or contacts. He takes a second to check the angle of the showerhead before he turns on the water, and is pleased to see that Kris lowered it. He happily finishes his shower, turns off the water, and reaches for his towel.

But the towel hanging on the back of the door is not his. It’s much larger.

It’s Kris’ towel, which means Kris used Kyungsoo’s towel that morning.

Kyungsoo wraps the ridiculously huge towel around his waist and stomps out of the bathroom.

“Kris Wu, how hard is it to take your own towel in the morning? How did you even get them confused, didn’t you realize—”

Kyungsoo stops in the doorway of the kitchen. Kris is sitting at the table, just finishing his toast, and he’s got Kyungsoo’s towel wrapped around his waist, hiked way too far up his thighs for Kyungsoo to trust whatever is about to come out of his mouth. He snaps his jaw shut.

Kris smirks. “What was that?”

Kyungsoo can feel the intensity of his own frown. “You are the worst.”

Kris gets up and saunters over. “I know you probably think you look terrifying right now, but I know you can barely see and the squint kind of ruins the effect of your brows of doom.”

“Bite me,” Kyungsoo mutters.

Kris kneels and shoves his shoulder into Kyungsoo’s stomach. Kyungsoo screeches and closes his eyes as Kris’ towel falls to the floor.

“I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOUR FLAT !” Kyungsoo screams.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Kris laughs. He deposits Kyungsoo on their bed, shoves him down and crawls over him. Kyungsoo feels a wave of heat start in his cheeks and creep down his neck, ending up in his stomach, where it simmers into longing. Kris settles between Kyungsoo’s thighs—still tangled in the too-large towel—and lightly at the freckles on Kyungsoo’s collar bones.

“Kris,” Kyungsoo whines, “My towel is getting the bed all wet.”

“That’s easy to fix,” Kris says, giving Kyungsoo a suggestive look. Or it’s meant to be suggestive, really it’s just a lot of eyebrow twitching.

“You’re the worst.”

“You said that already.”

“I know,” Kyungsoo sighs, but he wriggles out of the towel and hands it to Kris. “See if you can land that in the hamper.”

“What kind of prize do I get if I do?”

Kyungsoo punches Kris in the shoulder. “Shut up and throw the damn towel and then get back to kissing me.”

Kyungsoo groans in frustration and slams his laptop closed. He lays his head on the table and turns his pout towards the other side of the table.

“Kris,” he whines.

Kris looks up from the checkbook. “What did I do?”

Kyungsoo pouts at him. “Why are you so damn tall?”

Kris looks offended. “I thought you like how tall I am!”

“Well, yeah,” Kyungsoo sputters, blushing a bit as he remembers the previous night when Kris picked him up, pinned him against the wall and kissed him senseless. “But it makes it really hard to find couple shirts in our sizes.”

The smile that lights up Kris’ face is so precious that Kyungsoo lets out what can only be described as a gurgle.

Luckily Kris doesn’t seem to hear it as he squeals, “You’re looking for couple shirts for us? Oh, Kyungsoo!”

He darts around the table, slides on his knees and gives Kyungsoo a rather awkward hug—Kris’ head ends up somewhere near Kyungsoo’s armpit and Kyungsoo’s afraid Kris might have hit his head on the table.

“Are you that happy about it?” Kyungsoo asks.

Kris nods. “I thought you didn’t like couple shirts!”

“Well it might not work,” Kyungsoo says, “Since you’re a moose!”

Kris’ jaw drops, then he bursts out laughing.

“What?” Kyungsoo asks.

Kris flops onto his back and rolls onto his side, and then he actually snorts. It’s so undignified and Kyungsoo needs to know what the heck is making him laugh so hard. He clambers off his chair and plunks down on Kris’ stomach, making him wheeze.

“What’s so funny?” Kyungsoo asks.

Kris chokes out, “If I’m a moose, and you…you look like an owl…I imagined an owl sitting on a moose’s antlers…” and then he starts laughing again.

“How am I an owl?” Kyungsoo asks, determined not to laugh.

Kris places his hands on Kyungsoo’s cheeks. “Your eyes, they’re so round.”

Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose. “I guess it’s better than a penguin.”

Kris sits up and kisses Kyungsoo’s nose. “You’re a penguin too.”

Kyungsoo puffs up at that. “I am as much a moose as you are!”

Kris snorts. “You’re an owl, a fluffy pillow filled with seething hatred—”

“MOOSE!”

“A small moose.”

“A NORMAL SIZED MOOSE, THANK YOU!”

A week later, Kris comes home with a Toys R Us bag.

“Open it,” He tells Kyungsoo.

From the bag Kyungsoo takes two plushies, a moose and an owl.

“I know it’s not couple shirts,” Kris says, sounding nervous, “But do you like them?”

Kyungsoo hands Kris the owl and hugs the moose to his chest. “This is so friggin cute.”

So yeah, make sure you read/reblog/follow the creator of the post that inspired this

for more about the owls being pillows of hatred see this post (linked to my blog bc it's easier for me, I didn't come up with that)