A/N: This chapter contains some ual content. If you are uncomfortable with reading this, please hit the back button. Otherwise, hope you enjoy! Cheers to the Ribbon era!

Asleep?

The message comes a little past midnight. Yoseob might have been asleep, but he certainly isn't now, not after hearing the special ringtone he's set whenever Junhyung mails him. 

No thanks to you, he types back lazily. What's up?

Good news. A smiling emoticon beams back at him in the darkness. Can I come over? He jolts out of bed after reading the text, almost stubbing a toe in his hurry to stand up. This can't be good; his friend has a bad habit of asking after the fact, which means...

As if reading his thoughts, the doorbell rings. He curses and stomps out of the bedroom, grabbing a shirt as an afterthought. Knowing Junhyung, he could be suddenly dragged out for coffee or coerced into satisfying a craving for street food with only the clothes on his back, and he's not (and never will be) daring enough to attempt a midnight stroll with only a pair of jogging pants on, muscles or no.

The shirt's only half past his shoulders when he opens the door, and he knows he must look ridiculous, but none of that seems to matter after their eyes meet and Junhyung pulls him in wordlessly for a hug. Despite the cool breeze of autumn setting in and his half-dressed state, his whole body feels unbearably warm.

A little knot gradually unties itself from his chest.

They haven't seen each other since that day. Yoseob tells himself he's been busy with other things, but in reality he's just running away. Both from the growing sense of discontent bubbling inside him at the ambiguity of their relationship, and from the fact that he'd actually started to enjoy the sensation of wearing those clothes somewhere along the way.

"Missed you," Junhyung breathes. The action grazes his lips against an earlobe, sending an electric shock through Yoseob's nerves. Not receiving an immediate response, the arms holding him tighten and the rapper murmurs, "Are we okay now?" 

He wants to protest that Junhyung's being too melodramatic, of course we're okay, when are we ever not, but he checks himself. It's been nearly a month. A month since that article blew up in their face, a month since the crossdressing fiasco, a month since he heard the beginnings of a song that would never be his.

A month since their kiss that has him helplessly wanting more.

He doesn't know what that entails, exactly, but he knows there's no point in pretending it doesn't exist, not when he's been doing that by himself for the last few weeks to no result. 

So he returns the embrace and says decisively, "Now we are." Two heads are far better than one, anyway. Even if there's no solution in sight, he feels a lot better already.

Eventually, Yoseob forces himself to withdraw from the comforting warmth. The expression on Junhyung's face can only be described as sullen, but it disappears in an instant when he takes his hand and leads him inside the apartment. He doesn't bother turning on the lights; it adds to the secrecy and the strange thrill that they're doing something forbidden. In the darkness, their fingers stay intertwined.

"I'm doing a solo this December." Junhyung's voice remains steady, but his grip is tense around Yoseob's hand, like he's not sure how he'll react to the news. It's kind of adorable, how much he values Yoseob's opinion. He'll be the first to admit he'd hoped for a second chance at another mini-album, but Beast's promotions always come in first place, and if it's Junhyung's time to shine now, then it's time to return the favor and cheer for him from the sidelines. He takes those long, bony fingers in his own hands. Junhyung looks on with mild amusement. "What are you doing?"

Yoseob holds a finger to his lips in mock seriousness before placing it back on top of his friend's hand. "I'm casting a spell so that everything will go smoothly for you." He doesn't need the lights to see the soft, indulgent smile playing on Junhyung's face.

"Then I'll be counting on you, fairy," fingers lightly dance across his temple and tangle through his hair as if in invitation. He leans into the touch, welcomes the tingling sensation of those callused fingers and cold lips pressing briefly against his cheek. 

It's still not enough.

Desperate, Yoseob turns his head and crashes their mouths together, unwilling to wait any longer. The desire he'd kept locked away and out of reach boils over to the surface, and it triumphs over the fear that Junhyung will push him away and that this thing they have between them will end before it even really starts. Junhyung returns the gesture easily, almost as if he'd anticipated it, cradling the back of Yoseob's head with his free hand. Breaking free of his hold, the other hand dives underneath his shirt and brushes one thumb over a . A surprised moan escapes him as the cold pad of his thumb flicks at the nub, causing it to stiffen.

He has no clear recollection of being maneuvered around the sofa, but it must have happened now that he's lying on his back, shirt pushed up and one currently in Junhyung's mouth. It feels wet and sticky and should be altogether disgusting, and yet Yoseob has never been more in his life. A distant part of him sneers at how hypocritical he's being, how someone who's been striving to achieve the image of absolute manliness should be the last person to get off having his s by another guy, but it fades into static as Junhyung's tongue darts out to the pert nub once, twice before scraping the sensitive point with his teeth.

"I think we should stop here." Junhyung's strained voice permeates the thick white noise of pleasure in his head. Stop? What they've done so far is nothing but . If they're upgrading to become friends with benefits, as Yoseob has deduced they will at the rate they're going, then there's no need to be overly careful with one another. Wasn't that the whole point of this venture?

His body throbs with unfulfilled want. "I'm not a fragile object, Jumyeom," he chides, "I won't break if you hold me too tightly." And he knows he won't either, because Junhyung knows him best, knows how much he can take and how tightly he can be held without being broken. He has always known Yoseob better than anyone else, in some ways even better than their leader, Dujun, who's shouldered the team's burdens as his own, and Kikwang, who's been his friend since before they became trainees.

Junhyung makes a sound that's a cross between a laugh and an exasperated huff. "That's a promise, then."

Dongwoon claimed he was the rapper's muse. Didn't most muses have a dark history of being discarded after they'd served their purpose? 

"Junhyung," he says, "Promise me, too,"

"Promise you what?"

"That you won't break if I hold you too tightly."

 It's absurd to have a pinky promise right there and then, half- and on his sofa at the dead of night, but they do it anyway.

Yoseob hopes it's enough to tie them together until they figure out what their relationship really is.