Prompt: domestic au chantaokai struggling to make ends meet but they've got each other
Rating: PG

Jongin reeks of overcooked chicken, the smell of it wafting unpleasantly into his nose when he pulls his shirt off over his head.  There was a time in his life when he would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested he’d ever get tired of the aroma and taste of chicken.  Nowadays, spending a large portion of his day dropping pieces of frozen, pre-cooked chicken bits into a fryer, his body has deemed itself a chicken-free zone for the foreseeable future.

He kicks off his shoes, leaning his forehead against the wall to keep his balance because he'd passed the threshold of tired hours ago.  Right now, Jongin's running on watered down coffee that had too much sugar added, but face-planting in the fryer because he fell asleep on the job wasn't how he wanted to die.  So now he's exhausted and jittery and possibly edging on desperate for something to remind him that this is all worth it.

The soft illumination of the computer is the only light in the living room and Jongin shuffles in to see Zitao's hunched form in front of it.  His head is propped on his hand and judging by the bags under his eyes, he's as tired as Jongin is - possibly more.  In an effort to keep their tiny apartment, Zitao had dropped most of his college classes and now takes a few online courses while spending his days selling designer sunglasses to mall masses.

Jongin had given college up as a lost cause a year ago and now splits his time between feeding greasy chicken parts to spoiled kids and nursing the cuts and bruises that come with being a stock boy for the local grocery.

"Hey," Jongin whispers in an attempt not to startle Zitao, but he jerks up anyway, elbow sliding off the desk and his head nearly following.  "Sorry," Jongin apologizes sheepishly.

"I didn't hear you come in," Zitao admits, swiveling his chair around as he rubs at his eyes.  The chair is missing two wheels and it squeaks obnoxiously.  It should have been thrown out ages ago, but new chairs are expensive.  "Been home long?"

Zitao is yawning, leaning back with his arms over his head as the chair creaks ominously and Jongin can't help the way his chest squeezes tight, affection threatening to spill between his ribs.

"Just got here," he answers, waiting for Zitao to reach out for him before invading his space.  Jongin rests a knee on the chair between his legs, not putting much weight on it because the last thing they need is to break it further.  Zitao takes Jongin's hands, sliding their fingers together loosely as his head falls back.  Jongin tips forward to push their lips together, tempted to slump against Zitao and beg to be carried to bed.  But he holds his tongue and instead stands to bring Zitao to his feet.

"You look like you could use a break," Jongin says, his hands circling around to run up and down Zitao's back.  Zitao opens his mouth to protest, but Jongin cuts him off with a stern look.  "Just a few minutes," Jongin mumbles, kissing Zitao again until he feels him relaxing, tilting forward toward Jongin.

"I suppose a few minutes won't hurt," Zitao concedes with a lazy smile, allowing Jongin to drag him over to the couch.

It's newer than the chair and still fluffy as they fall on the cushions, Jongin smushed pleasantly under Zitao's weight.  "Don't fall asleep," Zitao warns even as Jongin's eyes threaten to close, drooping of their own accord.  "It's bad for your back," Zitao sighs even as his palm curves around Jongin's hip to rest on his spine.  His thumb traces over the ridges and Jongin shivers, turning more toward Zitao with a content hum.

"Less talking, more snuggling," Jongin grumbles, lips brushing dangerously close to Zitao's mouth.

Jongin does fall asleep, too groggy to fight it off now that he’s secure in Zitao’s arms.  He wakes only when he hears the door to the apartment shut, jerking him out of his slumber.  The first thing he notices is that he’s alone and Zitao is once again hunched at the computer.  But there’s also a blanket over him, pulled to his shoulders.

A shadow fills the doorway before Chanyeol walks in, looking just as tired and worn out as Jongin feels.  Chanyeol's the only one of them with an office job, but because he's the lowest on the ladder, he's the one saddled with late nights and stacks of paperwork.

"Hey," he rumbles gruffly, his voice carrying over the silence in the room.

Jongin watches as Chanyeol ducks to wrap his arms around Zitao from the side, face pushed to Zitao's neck.  He just knows that Chanyeol's blowing in his ear; Zitao's shoulders scrunch up and there's a soft giggle that's followed by Zitao pulling himself free with a broad grin.  The two of them stare affectionately at one another before Zitao is dragging Chanyeol forward for a kiss.

"You coming to bed?" Chanyeol asks even as Zitao slips away.

"Soon," he promises.  "You should take Jongin," Zitao adds, tilting his head in Jongin's direction.  "He's going to kill his back on that couch."

"If you don't join us in twenty, I'm coming back out for you," Chanyeol threatens.

By the time Chanyeol shuffles over to where Jongin is still laying, Jongin has his arms out, waiting.  Chanyeol laughs as he bends to pick him up, but Jongin tugs him down instead, trapping Chanyeol on top of him with legs around his thighs and arms looped over his shoulders.  "Hey handsome," Jongin greets with a smile.

"As much as I love being between your legs," Chanyeol begins, pausing when Jongin leans up to kiss just under his chin, "I'd much rather do this on the bed."

"Spoilsport," Jongin whines even as Chanyeol raises, bringing Jongin with him.  He's carted off to their bedroom, landing pleasantly in the middle of the one luxury they all agreed to splurge on - a king sized bed.  They'd all tried fitting onto a full mattress before, but Chanyeol rolls too much in his sleep and Zitao always ended up on the floor in the middle of the night.

Jongin thinks about letting his hand travel down when he curls up against Chanyeol's side, thinks about how long it's been since they've had the energy to do more than make out.  But he drifts into a light sleep with his leg twisted with Chanyeol's and an arm around his waist.  A little while later, Jongin finally feels content with the added weight of Zitao against his back, the press of warm lips to his neck.

They might not have much more than each other, but that's all they need.