A/N: Title is after the NCT Dream Song. Partially inspired by this Mamamoo sugar mommy/baby fic.

I bet that people would look at Wooseok and think that he'd be the sugar baby but I wanted to write him as the sugar daddy because he totally has that confident, assertive side, and my mind immediately paired that with stammering, blushing Yohan and - voila, this fic was born.

Yohan doesn’t know what to expect when he takes a seat, wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, and nervously glances around the high-end café. No, that’s a lie, he’s definitely expecting the worst. He’s watching out for some sleazy old man, maybe with a toupée, most likely with a pot belly. God, Hangyul and Seungyoun are going to laugh their asses off at him.

When a slight man with understated but expensive-looking clothes and probably the prettiest face he’s ever seen slides into the seat beside him, Yohan blinks and says, “Excuse me, I think you have the wrong table.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he says with a quirk of his mouth. “Are you not Yohan?”

“I-I am.” This can’t be right. “And you’re…?”

“Wooseok.” When Yohan just keeps staring at him, he grins and says, “What? Are you surprised?”

Yohan opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again and blurts out, “I thought you’d be a fat gross old man.”

Wooseok tosses his head back and laughs. “Well, I definitely have some years on you but I hope I don’t check off those other boxes.”

Yohan eyes him. “No way you’re older than me.”

“Do I need to get out some ID? Well, that might come up later anyway, when we sign the contract.”

“S-sign the contract?”

Wooseok his head to the side. “You don’t think that we’re going to go into this without paperwork, do you? There’s just too much room for contention in that scenario.” He rummages in his backpack for a moment. He has a backpack, he looks like any other university student, albeit an absurdly good-looking one, there’s no way he could be what he’s claiming to.

“Aha.” Wooseok produces a sheaf of papers. “Here, I had a contract drawn. You can take it home to take a thorough look if you want, I don’t expect you to sign it now. And you can get a lawyer if you’re worried that I slipped some sneaky clause in there. Don’t worry, I won’t make you sign your soul away.” He flashes a grin. “I have plans for it.”

Yohan is startled into laughter. He only realizes that he’s staring when Wooseok asks, “Do I have something on my face? I haven’t even ordered anything yet. And I noticed that you haven’t either. Please, order anything you want. It’s on me.”

“But how do you know you want to sign with me? You don’t even know me.”

“I’ve heard glowing things from Hangyul and Seungyoun.”

“You’d trust them?” Yohan blurts out, and Wooseok laughs again. He looks younger than ever when he does that, eyes crinkling and teeth flashing. There’s no way he could be older than Yohan.

“Plus, you’re cute,” Wooseok says casually, and Yohan’s face goes hot. “And I heard that you need the money.”

He says it factually, not condescendingly or pityingly, but Yohan feels a kneejerk reaction of defensiveness. He’s not some charity case; he mostly came here out of a stubborn sense of pride, so he can at least tell Hangyul and Seungyoun later that he came, he kept his side of the deal. Nobody could expect more of him.

“I said I’m fine,” Yohan mutters. “They’re the ones who convinced me of this stupid idea.”

“Meeting me is a stupid idea now?” Wooseok says in a hurt voice, putting a hand to his chest.

“I-I didn’t mean—” Yohan is not a stutterer, but he’s been doing it this whole time. Wooseok probably thinks that he’s a blabbering idiot. Except, he’s been looking at Yohan quite fondly, and even though his resting expression is quite cold, his eyes are warm, a hint of a smile in them like he finds Yohan endearing or amusing. Hopefully more of the first.

“You’re not a charity case to me, Yohan,” Wooseok says, like he can read his mind. “And my intentions are hardly pure or virtuous. I definitely expect my fair due in return.” The way he scans his eyes up and down Yohan’s body makes it clear what he means. Yohan feels like all the blood in his body rises to his face. Well, most of it.

He definitely finds Wooseok attractive, and if they met under other circumstances and Wooseok asked him out, Yohan wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. But this is hardly the kind of ‘how we met’ story you’d tell your friends. And anyway, Yohan is thinking of things far too much like a relationship. They wouldn’t be boyfriends; they would be…benefactor and beneficiary. Okay, he’s just trying to make it sound better than it actually is. They would be sugar daddy and sugar baby, and as cringeworthy as Yohan finds those words, they’re the truth.

“Am I not up to your standards?” Wooseok asks bluntly, and Yohan immediately says, “No! You’re so – you’re out of my league, even not taking the money into account. I just—I don’t know why you’d pay for what you could get from anyone, not to mention some broke university student who can’t get his together.”

Wooseok looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes devoid of judgment. Finally, he speaks. “As hard as it may be to imagine, I was once a ‘broke university student who can’t get his together’ too. Even now, I would hardly say that I have it together.” He gives a slightly self-deprecating smile, and Yohan looks at him, his perfectly styled hair and luxury brand clothes and relaxed confident demeanour. He very much looks like the definition of ‘put together.’

“Yohan,” Wooseok says, taking a breath like he’s steeling himself, and for the first time this whole meeting he looks nervous. “You’re cute – not just in looks – and you intrigue me and I really want you to say yes. You don’t have to give me your answer right away. Go home, think about it, look at the contract, talk to people for advice if you need.”

“The contract.” Yohan remembers, eyes going to the papers between them. “It’s thicker than I expected.” Wooseok coughs, and Yohan realizes what he just said and flushes yet again.

“You don’t have to look at it now, but this is probably the page you’re interested in.” Wooseok flips to one, and Yohan gives it a cursory glance, more interested in Wooseok’s deft, slim fingers, but then he sees the sum of money and his eyes widen.

“I thought that’d catch your eye,” Wooseok says wryly.

“That’s – that’s—”

“Yes?”

“Way too much,” Yohan says firmly. “I can’t accept that much.”

“This is the total sum for the ‘trial period,’ including the initial deposit. This”—Wooseok’s finger trails down the page—“would be how much you receive per month. Or we can do biweekly deposits if you prefer.”

Yohan has to remind himself to close his mouth so he doesn’t keep gaping like an idiot. “That’s too much even for a month,” he says weakly. “I can’t do anything to deserve that.”

Wooseok grins, a bright flash of teeth. “Oh, don’t worry, I plan to make you earn it.”

The words send a frisson shivering over his spine, but not the unpleasant kind. Suddenly, he wonders if Wooseok has some peculiar, hardcore kinks that he can’t satisfy in a regular relationship, and that’s why he sought out Yohan, but he can’t imagine that. Not just because of Wooseok’s boyish face, because looks only tell you so much, but because of something in it, some warmth in the crinkle of his eyes, some softness in the set of his mouth. Yohan has no real reason to, and he probably shouldn’t, but he trusts Wooseok.

“Yohan,” Wooseok says, putting his hand on top of Yohan’s for a moment, the first and only time he’s touched him. “Don’t tell yourself you deserve less than you do. And don’t let people give you less than you deserve, including me. Especially me.” He smiles, close-mouthed but soft, and Yohan’s heart skips a beat. “Get back to me with your answer, whatever it is.”

He stands up, his chair scraping back, and Yohan notices for the first time since he sat down how small he is. He has an aura like he’s six feet tall, but Yohan can easily imagine tucking Wooseok against his side, wrapping his arms around him in a back hug, putting his chin on top of Wooseok’s head; sweet, domestic actions that are too much like a romantic daydream and yet he can’t dispel.

Wooseok calls over a waiter and says something in low tones Yohan can’t make out, and then turns back to him. “Order whatever you want. They’ll put it on my tab.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not hungry,” Yohan lies, and his stomach decides to let out a loud grumble just then.

Wooseok laughs, his eyes crinkling in the way Yohan can’t look away from. “Think of it as a gift to me.”

“That makes no sense—”

“Eat a nice meal, take home the leftovers for later, treat yourself, Yohan. You deserve it.” Wooseok gives him that look again, like he’s gazing at something precious; Yohan has no idea what he did to deserve it. “Please?”

Yohan has no idea how Wooseok can make it sound like Yohan would be doing him a favour by letting him buy him lunch. He’d gotten a mini heart attack when he saw the menu: a glass of water here costs how much he’d typically spend for a meal, and the cheapest main what he’d spend on groceries for a week. But Wooseok is looking at him with puppy dog eyes, and Yohan can only say “Okay.”

Wooseok breaks into a grin, and Yohan’s heart goes full-on sledgehammer. He hasn’t said yes to Wooseok yes, but he knows what his answer will be. He doesn’t feel like he has much of a choice in it, really.

What has he gotten himself into?