Baekhyun holds up his glass, reveling in the way the little bubbles in the champagne rise to the top, ringing the plastic. It makes even these cheap, disposable champagne glasses somehow beautiful. “We finally did it,” he declares, lips stretched wide in a grin he can’t even begin to hold back.

Chanyeol matches the smile, although Baekhyun hopes his doesn’t look quite as maniacal – Chanyeol’s enormous smile has always been a frightening thing. “We did it,” Chanyeol agrees.

“To us,” Baekhyun toasts, holding the little plastic champagne flute a little higher.

Chanyeol taps their glasses together, the tiny plastic tink echoing in the high-ceilinged room. “To us,” he agrees, and they toss back the champagne.

Baekhyun has never really been a huge fan of champagne. He doesn’t like the carbonation in it. It’s the reason why he’s stayed away from sodas for so long. But an occasion like this demands champagne and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t follow tradition now.

Chanyeol doesn’t really like the taste of champagne either; Baekhyun can tell in the way his lips press into a grimace as he swallows the stuff. He fiddles with his empty plastic glass and looks around the room.

Baekhyun follows the younger’s gaze, letting his eyes drift around the enormous lobby. Even in this state, with half the walls covered in sheets and two of the four chandeliers missing and the marble floors thick with dust and muck, it’s obvious that this was once the most magnificent of places. “I wonder what they’d say to us now if they saw this place,” Baekhyun muses. He doesn’t have to clarify who he’s talking about. Them. His parents. Chanyeol’s parents. Anyone else who had doubted them or shunned them when they’d come out. There were an awful lot of people included in them.

Chanyeol sighs a bit, looking up at one of the remaining chandeliers. It’s a monstrosity of art, all glass and gold. It’s dusty and outdated but it still works, even if the electricity flickers sometimes. “They’d say that this place needs a lot of work,” he finally says.

Well, Baekhyun can’t argue with that. It’s been eight years since anyone has been in this place, and longer still before that. “Still,” he says, reaching for Chanyeol’s hand. It’s much bigger than his, hot and a little clammy, but it’s comforting. “Still, it’s all ours.”

Chanyeol’s mouth stretches into that maniacal grin again. “Yep,” he agrees. “All ours. It’s still hard to believe that we bought a ing hotel.”

“Not just any hotel,” Baekhyun replies, assuming a haughty tone that is so obviously an impersonation of Chanyeol’s mother that he can hardly keep from laughing. “One just dripping in history.”

“It’s over a hundred years old,” Chanyeol replies, chuckling. Baekhyun has always been good at impressions. “It better be dripping in history.” He stifles a yawn. “What do you say we get some sleep? The construction manager is coming out tomorrow morning, so we’d better be well rested.”

Baekhyun agrees, collecting the glasses and chucking them into one of the trash bins that had been left from the last round of restoration. They flip off the lights as they go, leaving them in an eerie darkness as they climb up to the second floor.

The hotel is seven stories tall and there is an elevator – an old-fashioned one with a grate and a crank and everything – but Baekhyun doesn’t quite trust the ancient-looking machinery and refuses to ride in it until a technician has been out to give it a once-over. He wants to keep the vintage look, just replace the parts so that no one goes careening down to a violent death. Chanyeol thinks he’s watched too many horror movies, but still he agrees that they can stay in one of the second floor rooms for now.

All the rooms were renovated under the previous owner save for those on the seventh floor, so the second floor is up-to-date and quite nice. It was a little dusty when Baekhyun and Chanyeol first arrived since no one had been around in eight years, not since the previous owners packed up and got the hell out of dodge, but Chanyeol had patiently cleaned the dust off the furniture and Baekhyun had calmly changed the sheets.

They banter cheerfully as they get ready for bed, a routine they’ve perfected in the past several years. Chanyeol complains about the toothpaste while he brushes his teeth in the bathroom, Baekhyun tells him that he can do the grocery shopping from now on if he so desires while he changes into his pajamas. But it’s playful and neither means any harm by it.

The two of them curl up in bed together, Baekhyun snuggling up close into the natural curve of Chanyeol’s body while the younger turns off the lamp on the bedside table.

“So what exactly were you able to find out about this place?” Chanyeol asks, minty breath washing over Baekhyun’s face almost pleasantly.

“Not a whole lot,” he admits. “But it’s old. Like, really old. Built in the 1850s, I think. By some guy who made a lot of money on the railroads.”

Chanyeol hums thoughtfully. “We could spin that angle, you know,” he muses. “Put up a plaque about the original owner. Market it as the hotel of one of the men who made the railroad possible in the first place.”

“That might be stretching it a bit, but it is a good marketing technique,” Baekhyun agrees, yawning. “I need to do some more research. Gotta make sure everything sounds legit.”

Chanyeol chuckles and plants a kiss on the elder’s forehead. “Whatever you want, love.”