it’s kiel’s turn to frown. “you have to act?” he chuckles genuinely under his breath, tongue in cheek when he finally allows himself to look back. “i mean, you know. not that i’m surprised.” a smirk next, retracted immediately when he sees the other’s not smiling at all.
he turns around completely, takes a few steps back to where junha stands. his hands fly up, sort of in the way he’s been taught if necessary for defense, settling on either side of his trainer’s face however. it’s not a tentative move, thumbs pressing gently into plush skin. he looks like a hamster, he thinks. “you’re not as hard as you think,” (every other word’s punctuated with a sink to his cheek) kiel tells him. “literally.” the corners of junha’s mouth go up unnaturally, don’t actually move all that much on their own without the help of his fingers. i’m not sure if you look better this way as opposed to when you frown. (that’s hypocritical to some extent.)
he spares a once-over, junha’s face now between his thumb and index, middle fingers. “we can talk about your tattoos and how much each one’s hurt.” maybe. a mindless offer, more out of curiosity than saying something just to say it by now. “how you could have afforded each damn one up to now.” kiel prods the other’s forehead when he says this, gives another half of a smile before turning on his heel and drawing his hand away.
“over some dumb samgyeopsal.”
“there’s no need to get so fucking gross.”
he’s joking, of course (contrary to popular belief, the word actually does exist in his vocabulary), the usual gruffness of his words layered with something that sounds a lot like fondness. his lips immediately tug harshly downwards in resistance as kiel presses his fingers into his face—whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. it’d be a surprise if he didn’t look like a complete idiot.
the way junha’s face is contorted muffles his words as he sputters in protest, and he smacks kiel’s arm away (admittedly a little harder than necessary), but in contrast to his actions, his mouth twitches with something other than a scowl for once. “yeah, whatever. bet you’d be too chicken to get one anyway. can we just go?” the words are foreign on his tongue, unfamiliar to the concept of a casual banter, but it’s comforting, in a sense.
he could get used to this.
grumble, grumble. he's already turning around before kiel can form a reply, fingers reaching out to switch off the lights. “they didn’t hurt, by the way.”
samgyeopsal nearing midnight feels different, somehow. everything seems to be more. the stench of soju is more pungent in the air than usual, conversation in the enclosed space seemingly louder. a grimace finds its way onto junha’s features—not that he actually minds all this, but he’s never really been able to stand the way oil clings to his skin like film.
for a second, he eyes kiel who sits across him, and tosses him the menu. “go wild. like i said, it’s on me, anyway.” you kinda deserve it, too.
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