a/n: not marking this M because I've watched this scene with my mom a thousand times lmao

“I had that dream again,” Kyungsoo tells Jongin as they walk through the park. “The one where I’m making love and the Olympic judges are watching. I nailed the compulsories, so this is it. The finals. I get a 9.8 from the Canadian. I get a perfect 10 from the American. And my mother, dressed as a German, gives me a 5.6. You think there’s any meaning to that?”

“I’ve had dreams like that,” Jongin says. “Well, sort of. Basically it’s the same one I’ve had since I was twelve.”

“What happens?”

“It’s very embarrassing.”

“Don’t tell me,” Kyungsoo says.

“Okay. There’s this guy.”

“What does he look like?”

“I don’t know,” says Jongin. “He’s sort of faceless.”

“A faceless guy. Okay. Then what happens?”

“He rips off my clothes.”

“And then what?” Kyungsoo asks after a second when he doesn’t continue. Jongin smiles at him.

“That’s it.”

Kyungsoo stares at him. “That’s it? A faceless guy rips off your clothes, and that’s the fantasy you’ve been having since you were twelve? Exactly the same?”

“Sometimes I vary it a little,” Jongin says defensively.

“Which part of it do you vary?”

“What I’m wearing.”

—

A few weeks later, Jongin’s at Kyungsoo’s apartment, listening to Kyungsoo recount the events of his first date after his and Jongdae’s split as they unroll a new rug across the elder’s floor. “It was the most uncomfortable night of my life,” he’s saying, and Jongin groans when he realizes the rug is sideways. Kyungsoo notices too, and they both move to opposite sides of the room to rotate it.

“The first date back is always the toughest.”

“You only had one date,” Kyungsoo says, referring to the guy Jongin met for dinner a few days prior. “How do you know it won’t get worse?”

“How much worse can it get than finishing dinner, having him reach over, pull a hair out of my head, and start flossing with it at the table?” Jongin asks as he struggles with the rug.

“You’re talking dream date compared to my horror.”

“It’s gotta go this way,” Jongin says, straightening the edges of his side and pointing across to Kyungsoo’s.

“It started out fine,” Kyungsoo says as he copies Jongin. “He was a very nice person, and we were just talking at this Ethiopian restaurant he wanted to go to. I was making some jokes, you know, like ‘I didn’t know they had food in Ethiopia. This’ll be a quick meal. We’ll order two empty plates and leave.’” Jongin laughs, and Kyungsoo gestures to him. “See? Nothing from him. Not even a smile. So I downshift into small talk and ask him where he went to school; he says Michigan State, and it reminds me of Jongdae. All of a sudden I’m in the middle of this massive anxiety attack, and my heart’s beating like a wild man, and I’m sweating like a pig.”

“Jongdae went to Michigan State?” Jongin asks with a confused frown.

“No. He went to Northwestern. But they’re both Big Ten Schools.” Kyungsoo sighs as he crouches down beside the rug. “I was so upset, I had to leave the restaurant.”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, walking over to crouch beside him. “I think it takes a long time. It might be months before we’re actually able to enjoy going out with someone new.”

“Yeah.”

“And maybe even longer before we’ll be able to go to bed with someone new.”

“Oh, I went to bed with him,” Kyungsoo says matter-of-factly. Jongin turns to stare at him in shock.

“You went to bed with him?”

“Yep.”

“Oh,” Jongin says, frowning as he looks away, unsure how to feel.

“Is this too green?” Kyungsoo asks after a moment of tense silence, gesturing to the rug.

—

“I don’t understand this relationship,” Chanyeol complains as he swings, his bat connecting with the baseball with a loud crack. 

“What do you mean?” Kyungsoo asks from the batting cage beside him.

“You enjoy being with him?”

“Yes.”

“You find him attractive?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not sleeping with him?”

“No.”

“What are you afraid of?” Chanyeol asks. “You’re afraid to let yourself be happy.”

“Come on, can’t you give me credit for this?” Kyungsoo complains as his time runs out, leaning against his bat as he looks over at his friend. “This is a big step for me, Yeol, having a relationship with a cute guy like him that doesn’t involve . I’ve never been able to do this. I feel like I’m growing.”

“Are you finished yet?” A nine-year-old waiting outside the cage whines as he watches the two of them stand there. Kyungsoo turns around and leans down to look at him through the fence.

“I got a whole pocketful of quarters and I was here first, okay?”

“You were not.”

“Was too.”

“Were not.”

“Was too.”

The kid rolls his eyes and walks away with his friend as Kyungsoo puts another quarter in the machine. “Jerk.”

“Where was I?” Kyungsoo asks Chanyeol as he returns to the plate.

“You were growing,” Chanyeol drawls.

“Right. It’s very freeing. I can say anything to him.”

“Are you saying you can say things to him you can’t say to me?” Chanyeol pouts as he swings again. 

“No, it’s just different. It’s a whole different perspective. He doesn’t think the way we do. He tells me about the men he goes out with, and I can talk to him about the guys I see.”

“You tell him about other guys?”

“Yeah. Like the other night I made love to a guy and it was so incredible, I took him to a place that wasn’t human. He actually meowed.”

Chanyeol misses the next ball that comes his way, turning to stare at Kyungsoo in disbelief. “You made a man meow?”

“Yes, that’s the point. I can say these things to him. And the great thing is, I don’t have to lie because I’m not always thinking about how to get him into bed. I can just be myself.”

Chanyeol watches Kyungsoo swing at the next baseball. “You made a man meow?” he repeats.

—

“So what do you do with these guys?” Jongin asks him over lunch one day. “You just get up out of bed and leave?”

“Sure,” Kyungsoo shrugs.

“Explain to me how you do it. What do you say?”

“I have an early meeting or an early haircut or an early squash game.”

“You don’t play squash.”

“They don’t know that. They just met me.”

Jongin wrinkles his nose. “That’s disgusting,” he tells him as he takes a bite of his salad.

“I know. I feel terrible,” Kyungsoo says, picking tomato slice off his sandwich and folding it into his mouth.

“I am so glad I never got involved with you. I just would have ended up being some dude you had to get out bed and leave at three in the morning and go clean your andirons. And you don’t even have a fireplace,” Jongin shakes his head irritatedly. “Not that I would know this.”

“Why are you getting so upset? This isn’t about you.”

“Yes it is,” Jongin argues. “You’re a human affront to all bottoms. And I’m a bottom.”

“Look, I don’t feel great about this, but I don’t hear anyone complaining.” Kyungsoo insists.

“Of course not. You’re out the door too fast.”

“I think they have an okay time.”

“How do you know?”

“What do you mean, how do I know? I know,” Kyungsoo says with a smirk.

“Because they…?” Jongin makes a vague gesture with his hands.

“Yeah, because they…” Kyungsoo mimics the gesture with amusement.

“But how do you know they’re really…” Jongin makes the gesture again with a simper of his own.

“What’re you saying, they fake ?” Kyungsoo chuckles. “Dudes can’t do that.”

“It’s not that hard to make it look like it feels better than it does,” Jongin says with a dismissive wave of his hand. Kyungsoo looks affronted.

“Get out of here.”

“Why? Most bottoms, at one time or another, have exaggerated it,” he smiles smugly at the look on Kyungsoo’s face.

“Yeah, well, they haven’t exaggerated it with me, okay?”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

“Oh, right. I forgot,” Jongin grins as he takes another bite of his food. “You always top.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Jongin giggles. “It’s just that all of you tops think it never happens to them and all bottoms at one time or another have done it. You do the math.”

“You don’t think I can tell the difference?”

“Nope,” Jongin smirks.

“Please. Don’t be ridiculous,” Kyungsoo grumbles, taking a bite of his sandwich. Jongin watches him amusedly for a few seconds before the smile slowly slips off his face, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Ooh…” he breathes slowly, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. “…oh my god…”

Kyungsoo glances up at him. “You alright?”

“Oh god,” Jongin moans a little louder, running a hand through his hair, his expression turning seductive as he lets his eyes close. Kyungsoo realizes what he’s doing now, and darts his eyes around the restaurant before looking back at his plate in an attempt to ignore the younger. “Ooh… oh god…” Jongin says between labored breaths, tilting his head back and running his hand down his face. His features are contorted with pleasure, and Kyungsoo can’t resist stealing another peek. 

“Oh right there,” Jongin cries suddenly as he draws a sharp breath, the urgency in his voice quickly rising. He moans unabashedly to the ceiling, at full volume this time, sobbing and gasping as if he can barely keep control over his own voice. “Oh, oh god,” he mewls obscenely, and Kyungsoo watches as every customer in the diner slowly turns to stare. “, yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Ohh! Oh god, yes, don’t stop! , you’re gonna make me come! Oh , , yes!”

Jongin bangs on the table with each desperate yes, and Kyungsoo can’t do anything but stare in shock as the man across from him thrashes in his seat, ardently begging for more through his cries. He’s acutely aware of the dozens of eyes on them, but Jongin doesn’t seem to care at all, mindlessly gripping at the sides of the table as he screams loud enough to hear outside the restaurant, and Kyungsoo thanks God that there aren’t any children present to witness this. 

“Ohh…” Jongin moans as he slumps exhaustedly in seat following his ‘,’ trying desperately to catch his breath. “Oh god… ooh…”

Kyungsoo keeps staring as Jongin smiles smugly at him and straightens up before taking another bite of his salad as if nothing ever happened. It’s dead silent for a second before the dining room chatter slowly starts to build again.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” an older woman across the room tells her waitress when she comes to take her order.

—

New Year’s Eve that year finds Jongin and Kyungsoo at a party along with what seems like the rest of Manhattan, laughing and dancing as the live band plays. “Thank you for taking me out tonight,” Jongin raises his voice above the music. Kyungsoo returns the younger’s bright smile.

“Forget it. And next year, if neither one of us is with somebody, you’ve got a date.”

“It’s a deal,” Jongin giggles. “See? Now we can dance cheek to cheek.”

Kyungsoo chuckles as Jongin tightens his arms around his neck, both of them still swaying to the music. The lighthearted atmosphere slowly dissipates with every full rotation, and soon the air between them is thick with things unsaid.

“Ten seconds to midnight!” somebody yells, and the way Kyungsoo gazes at him as the partygoers around them start counting down makes Jongin’s heart beat uncomfortably fast. 

“Do you want to get some air?” he offers, and Jongin graciously nods.

Cheers of “Happy New Year!” erupt around them as the countdown ends, people singing and blowing noisemakers as the two of them slip out onto the deck. Everyone happily kisses their dates as the hopeful music swells, and there’s an unbearably awkward pause as Jongin and Kyungsoo hesitantly regard each other.

“Happy New Year,” Jongin finally says with a nervous laugh and smile. Kyungsoo warmly smiles back.

“Happy New Year.”

Kyungsoo kisses him, a tiny peck on the lips that’s purely platonic on the surface, but leaves them both wondering if that’s really all it is. Jongin smiles and follows it with a hug, and Kyungsoo holds him as if he’s afraid to let him go.