“Hey, do you- uh- know where the oil is?” Jongdae asks cautiously, cheeks strangely red and voice uncharacteristically high-pitched for such a casual conversation.

“Oil?” Chanyeol questions, pausing his video game and gracing the older with a puzzled look. “You mean cooking oil?”

Jongdae’s jaw drops, eyes widening. Chanyeol didn’t think it was possible but here Jongdae is, getting more flushed by the second. “No no! Hair oil. No wait, that’s not what it’s called. Body oil?” he questions himself. “You know what, never mind!” he suddenly blurts, startling Chanyeol. “Forget it.” He rushes out of the room, tripping over his legs, the back of his neck all the way up to his ears a lovely shade of crimson.

“Body oil…” Chanyeol trails off, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned downwards into a small frown. Asking for body oil was normal. They did it all the time especially when they were sore from practicing and performances and needed massages. But why was Jongdae being so weird about it?

Baekhyun bounds into the room then, one hand stuffed into a family size bag of Cheetos and the other scratching at his lazily. “Why would someone just randomly ask for body oil and look all weird about it?” Chanyeol blabbers out and then as if the realization strikes him, he curses under his breath and claps a large palm over his mouth. It’s a little too late for that though. The damage has already been done. Baekhyun stares at him. And blinks. And stares some more. His thin, orange-stained lips curl into a devious smirk and uh oh. Chanyeol should have kept his big mouth shut. Too bad he wasn’t the conservative or smart type.

“Did someone ask you for body oil?” the older drawls slowly, eyes gleaming as he stalks predatorily towards Chanyeol and though he’s much larger in comparison, he can’t help but feel extremely small at the moment.

“I- no? No, no one asked,” Chanyeol responds shakily. He also wasn’t good at lying. .

“I’m only going to ask one more time, Park Chanyeol.” Oh no, Baekhyun is using his full name. He’s royally ed. “Who asked?”

“J-Jongdae,” the taller stammers, feeling guilt’s long tentacles wrap around his frame and squeeze his chest painfully. He looks down at the controller in his palms and sighs. Now he’s a horrible friend. Jongdae had specifically asked him and here he was involving other people in the matter.

“Dae?” Baekhyun questions, momentarily surprised. He then narrows his eyes and scoffs. “You’re lucky I love him… and you too- sometimes.” Chanyeol is confused. Baekhyun is serious. Did he miss something? The apparently obvious question mark is embossed on his face. Baekhyun rolls his eyes and mutters something about a clueless stupid motherer- he refuses to believe it’s him- and then walks over to his night stand, rummaging through his drawer.

A few seconds later, he produces a bottle and tosses it at Chanyeol’s head. Chanyeol dod