Summer 2003

“I was worried it was going to rain.”

“Mm, I know, right? It looks like we might get lucky with the sun.” The stereo paused for an extra second between one song and the next, and Baekhyun nodded at it. “It’s repeating. Xingy, you wanna pick something else?”

Yixing hit the eject button and hooked his finger through the middle of the CD as it slid out, opening the glovebox with his other hand to rummage through the cases for this disc’s home. “What you wanna hear?”

“Up to you.” He glanced in the rearview mirror at the back seat. “Any requests?”

“NSYNC,” J.D. suggested.

“Would I defile my radio with that garbage?” Baekhyun cried. “I am pulling over and you are walking the rest of the way.”

“It was a joke!” J.D. protested.

“Don’t care, get out of my car.”

“Babe, he’s kidding,” Yixing said.

“Yeah, babe,” Zhixiang added.

“Careful, Zhu,” Yixing said, flicking through the CD cases for something appealing. “He won’t make J.D. walk, but you got no promises.”

Baekhyun’s finger waggled a warning in the mirror and Zhixiang gave a snorting laugh, slapping J.D.’s chest hard enough to make him squeak in protest. Yixing slid a CD into the slot and whipped his finger out of the centre hole before it could bite his fingertip off, as it always seemed tempted to do.

“What is it?” J.D. asked, leaning forward between the seats.

Yixing sat back and closed his eyes with a smile. “You’ll hear.”

A smack of drums brought in the blaring bagpipes, and Baekhyun whooped, one hand slapping the steering wheel in delight.

“Oh, good choice!”

Yixing felt the grin dimpling into his cheek, and he kept his eyes closed to listen as Baekhyun began to sing.

“I was a midnight rider on a cloud of smoke-”

The sun was warm on his face through the window, Baekhyun’s comic imitation of an iconic falsetto groundingly familiar in his ear. Yixing leaned his cheek against the window to temper the heat of the sun with the cool press of the glass.

“So I’ll play-”

“Sha-la-”

“And I’ll wait-”

“I’ll wait-”

Yixing did not open his eyes, but he didn’t need to see Baekhyun’s face to hear the grin in his voice. Yixing always did the harmonies when Baekhyun sang; it was as natural as breathing.

“Just the beat of a lonely heart, and it’s mine…”

Baekhyun’s hand patted the rhythm of the drums into Yixing’s thigh, and Yixing grabbed it for a brief squeeze before J.D. and Zhixiang joined in from the backseat:

“And I don’t wanna be alone.”

“We should start a band,” Baekhyun said as the bagpipes took up the interlude. “Baekkie Byun and the Crooning Queens.”

“Excuse me,” J.D. protested.

“If you’re about to say you’re not a queen,” Baekhyun interrupted, “then zip it, cause I saw the wig on your dresser last week.”

“I was about to say I refuse to be your backup singer,” J.D. said, “but if you really wanna go there-”

“He gonna say it’s for a show,” Zhixiang said.

“Yes, I’m playing Baekhyun Byun circa 1985.”

Baekhyun cackled and pounded the steering wheel so hard Yixing’s hand twitched off his knee towards it.

“The mullet? Hah. Are you doing a tribute to the greatest ballet styles of all time?”

“No,” Zhixiang cut in, “the most tragic.”

“Make him walk,” Yixing muttered, drawing Baekhyun’s grin into a chuckle.

“I’ve never made a bad fashion choice in my life,” Baekhyun declared, and then the conversation came to an abrupt end as he pulled up to the booth and rolled down the window, his other hand on the stereo lowering Robin Gibb to a mournful whisper.

“Morning!” He chirped at the officer who stepped up to their car.

“Good morning,” she replied. “Can I see some passports, please?”

Baekhyun handed over the stack of passports - three American, one Canadian - from the centre console, and the officer flipped through them in silence for a moment before ducking down to get a better look at the four of them in the car.

“Baekhyun Byun,” she said.

“That’s me.”

She looked down at the Canadian passport, then up at Baekhyun.

“What do you do, Mr. Byun?”

“I’m the Co-Artistic Director of the Seattle Ballet,” he said, winning smile firmly in place.

She nodded and flipped to the next passport. “Yixing Zhang?”

“Hello.” Yixing gave her a little wave from the passenger seat.

“Your occupation?”

“Co-Artistic Director of Seattle Ballet.”

“Okay, thank you. Zhixiang Luo?”

Zhixiang leaned forward in the back seat so she could see him without craning her neck past Baekhyun. “I’m an immigration lawyer.”

She glanced at his face, nodded, and flipped to the last passport in the stack. “Alright, and Jong-”

“Dance teacher,” J.D. interrupted, loudly enough to make Yixing jump. “I’m a dance teacher.”

She squinted down at the passport and back up at J.D., then nodded and flicked through it to the page she needed to stamp. “What brings you gentlemen up North today?”

The wattage of Baekhyun’s grin could have powered the city of Seattle. “We’re attending a wedding this weekend.” Yixing’s gaze drifted over to the silver sedan at the next booth, where Minseok, Lu, and Sehun were answering the same set of questions. “Two of them, actually.”

This seemed to be a satisfactory answer. The officer handed Baekhyun the set of freshly stamped passports with a smile.

“Alright then,” she said, and as she stepped back Yixing caught a glimpse of the Peace Arch on the lawn beyond, its twin flags flying. “Welcome to Canada.”

--

A/N: and they lived happily ever after. (Minseok and Lu got married too because of course they did.)