curtain shopping
Title: curtain shopping
Rating: r for mentions of nc-17
Word Count: 2115
Summary: Joonmyun and Chanyeol are perfectly capable of being a disgustingly domestic couple, despite the mild age difference.
Warning/s: mentions of sex, age difference (Joonmyun is 30, Chanyeol is 21)
Notes: I had a lot of fun writing this, and I'm happy to have participated in this exchange!
Joonmyun realizes, not for the first time, that maybe he’s too old for this. It’s partly the fact that sometimes he wakes up with back pain (the horror), and partly the fact that Chanyeol is begging him to go see Big Hero 6.
“Chanyeol, please,” Joonmyun pleads. “That theatre is going to be filled with children and overworked parents. My heart can’t handle that sort of stress.”
Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Sehun and Tao went to see it, just the two of them,” he informs his miserable-looking boyfriend. “And everything was fine for them.”
“They’re eighteen! I don’t know if you noticed, Chanyeol, but I’m thirty. I’m gonna have soccer moms come up to me after the movie and flirt with me about how cute it is that I’ve brought my son to the movies.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Chanyeol snorts. “I’m twenty-one, hyung, I can buy my own booze. No one’s going to think I’m your son. You’re not that old.”
“It’s happened before,” Joonmyun says darkly, eyes narrowing at the memory.
“Please, Joonmyun? Pleaaaase?” Chanyeol unleashes his stupid puppy dog eyes on him and Joonmyun wants to smack him because it’s over the second he notices.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you might as well be my son,” Joonmyun grumbles. Chanyeol whoops with joy and starts to drag Joonmyun to the ticket box, who struggles to wrest his wallet out of his back pocket.
They get the couple popcorn set to share, and it turns out the movie really is funny after all. And maybe Chanyeol helps mollify Joonmyun for the inevitable soccer mom propositions with a blowjob in the theatre washroom. It certainly helps him feel young again.
“Chanyeol, move over.”
“I don’t wanna.”
Joonmyun sighs. So it was going to be a “difficult teenager” kind of night. It doesn’t do his self-consciousness over his age any good to realize what good parenting practice he’s getting out of dealing with Chanyeol.
He prods at Chanyeol’s dangling left foot, taking in the image of his too-tall boyfriend sprawled along the length of their couch. “Come on, you giant, make some room for me.”
Chanyeol grins up at him around a mouthful of popcorn. “This is what you get for leaving, hyung,” he teases briefly before his eyes flicker back to the movie. “Now shh, I’m trying to pay attention.
“I’m just going to sit on you,” Joonmyun threatens with a huff, setting down the mug of hot chocolate he’d gone to make. The sound of explosions from the TV is the only response he gets, though Chanyeol’s obviously trying to keep a smirk off of his face.
So he sits on Chanyeol, right where it matters most, suppressing his own grin when a deliberate wiggle is the distraction he’d been aiming for.
“Hyung, not now,” Chanyeol complains immediately, hissing when Joonmyun answers with a very suggestive roll of his hips. “I want to watch this movie!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joonmyun replies, reaching over to grab his mug and blows softly. He can already feel Chanyeol hardening underneath him, and the satisfaction of being a tease is sweetened by the chocolate.
“You’re such a kid,” Joonmyun laughs when Chanyeol’s hands start to creep at his waist despite claiming to want to watch the movie. “So easy.”
“That’s not fair. You’ve had years longer than me to master the art of restraint. My own dick, however, does not have the same advantage.” Chanyeol huffs and gives up, realizing that he was being punished and that he had no choice but to submit. “At least share with me,” he whines, reaching for Joonmyun’s cup.
“I don’t wanna,” is all Joonmyun replies, emphasizing with a strategic wiggle. Chanyeol’s groan of defeat and lust has him snickering into his drink. “Now shut up, I want to watch the movie.”
Chanyeol cooks and Joonmyun washes the dishes. This is the routine, and they stick to it because once Joonmyun tried cooking, and Chanyeol had met his new best friends Baekhyun and Jongdae after they’d put out the fire in their apartment. This is why they end up, more often than not, waiting patiently for the tell-tale ring of their doorbell signaling that their take-out has arrived.
Because Chanyeol’s a shitty cook too.
One of the biggest highlights of their nights is the epic battle that decides where they order from.
“Where do you want to eat, Chanyeol?” Joonmyun asks, scratching his thigh absently as he peruses their kitchen cabinet for a snack. They’re running low on ramen, he notes with vague concern. He must go out to replenish their stock at some point, since they live on the stuff.
“I don’t know, hyung. Where do you want to go eat?” comes Chanyeol’s very helpful reply from where he’s dangling off the couch, playing on his 3DS intensely. Chanyeol is dressed only in a pair of Spongebob boxers that Kris got home for his birthday and socks - entirely underdressed for any spontaneous outings.
Joonmyun sighs because this is how all of their “arguments” over food go. He pads over to where Chanyeol and stands over him, casting a shadow. He nudges Chanyeol’s side with his knee. “You choose,” he demands. “I chose last time.”
“Quit poking me, Joonmyun, I’m trying to play - wait, I chose last time!”
“You did not,” Joonmyun says crisply. “I asked if you wanted pizza and you sneezed.”
Chanyeol tears his eyes away from his game long enough to look pleadingly up at an unimpressed Joonmyun. “If you love me,” he begins, “you’ll choose where we eat.”
“Oh, very mature, Chanyeol.” He sighs and plops down onto the floor beside the couch, beginning to sift through their enormous collection of takeout menus they’ve got stashed on the coffee table in lieu of tacky, big books.
“Thai?”
“Baekhyun and I had Thai a couple days ago for lunch.”
“Fried chicken?”
“Too unhealthy.”
“Pizza?”
“Not again!”
“I give up!” Joonmyun cries in despair, burying his face in the myriad of menus. Although plentiful, they’re all variations of the same suggestions he’d just given Chanyeol. “We just won’t eat. I’ll just lie here in my misery and you’ll keep playing your stupid game until the battery runs out, and then you’ll start nosing at me and whining in hunger. And then we’ll eventually get so hungry we’ll begin gnawing at each other. Pretty soon, I’ll have limbs missing and your face won’t be as pretty.”
Chanyeol sniffs in sympathy. “So tragic,” he mumbles, “We should write a book.”
Joonmyun lets his head fall back to rest on the couch, feeling Chanyeol’s stomach expand and contract from where it’s brushing the top of his head. “My name would be first, obviously,” he says decisively. “And we’d split the profits 70/30.”
“No way, hyung! You can’t write for shit, so I’d be the one to actually write it, so my name would be first and we’d split it 60/40 - 60 for myself, of course.” Chanyeol curses one last time before he shuts off his game and rolls over, facing Joonmyun.
“50/50.”
“58/42.”
“55/45 and I’ll blow you every morning for two weeks.”
“Three.”
“Deal.”
Having settled that dispute, they could now focus on other things. Chanyeol’s stomach growls and Joonmyun’s echoes in solidarity.
“You know, we have a crap-ton of ice-cream,” Chanyeol suggests slowly, fingers unconsciously playing with Joonmyun’s hair.
“And leftover cake from Jonginnie’s birthday,” Joonmyun points out.
They both eye each other for a long moment, deciding whether or not they were bold enough to go through with their scandalous idea.
“I’m thirty,” Joonmyun mutters to himself later, snuggled up with Chanyeol on the couch while the latest season of Mad Men marathons on their TV.
“Yep,” Chanyeol chirps cheerfully, offering another spoonful of Rocky Road to his smaller boyfriend. “You’re an irresponsible adult and my mother would have your head if she knew what you were feeding me.”
“Let’s not talk about your mother, Chanyeol,” Joonmyun groans around a mouthful of melting ice cream. “I love her and all, but not I’m not up for discussing my parenting techniques when you’ve got your dick pressed up against my ass.”
“Well then, what are you ‘up’ for?” Chanyeol asks playfully.
Joonmyun smacks Chanyeol’s head. “The next episode,” he says staunchly, “and this slice of cake.”
Chanyeol just groans and steals half of Joonmyun’s cake in spite.
“Chanyeol, can’t we order these online or something?” Joonmyun complains, carrying the basket because he’s afraid of Chanyeol hitting someone with it in his eagerness as he flits around the store.
“What did you say?” Chanyeol calls back, already two aisles over. “Hyung, oh my god, these are so pretty.”
Joonmyun trudges over to where Chanyeol’s rubbing his face against some fabric with, honestly, tacky patterns running all over it.
“And it’s so soft,” Chanyeol continues.
“How much time do you anticipate rubbing yourself over the curtains?” Joonmyun asks curiously.
“… Quite a bit?”
Joonmyun sighs, shaking his head. “Can’t we just get Kyungsoo to come and do this for us?” he tries instead, entirely unenthused about actual curtain shopping. “He loves this sort of thing.”
Chanyeol makes a noise, scandalized, and thwacks Joonmyun’s head with the curtain. “You can’t just let anyone choose curtains for us!” he admonishes. “It’s got to reflect you, and me, and us. It’s very personal, and I won’t have Kyungsoo’s weird obsession over home décor interfere with this special milestone in our relationship.”
“You and I,” Joonmyun corrects.
“Exactly. What do you think of this one?” Chanyeol holds out an even tackier sample eagerly.
Joonmyun sighs again. “I don’t think the floral stuff really represents, um, us.”
It was going to be a long day.
Because of Joonmyun’s weird work schedule at the office, they do not get to have the classic lazy Sunday mornings. But they make up for it on Tuesdays, when Joonmyun is off and Chanyeol doesn’t have classes until the afternoon.
Joonmyun is usually up first, because he’s used to it for work and Chanyeol tends to go to bed later, up late because of studying. He gingerly unpries Chanyeol’s limbs from his body, as the younger had a tendency to cling in his sleep, and drops a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead before shuffling into their ensuite bathroom, yawning. He doesn’t bother changing from the oversize shirt that had once been Chanyeol’s he’d worn to bed.
By the time Chanyeol has rolled out of bed - he never lasts long without another warm body to cuddle with - Joonmyun’s spooning sugar into two mugs of coffee by the counter. He walks over sleepily and presses up against Joonmyun’s back, dropping his head onto Joonmyun’s shoulder and watches. Chanyeol is especially affectionate in the morning, seeking physical contact in any way he can get it.
“I can’t believe you actually drink that stuff,” Chanyeol says, wrinkling his nose as Joonmyun adds a healthy amount of French Vanilla creamer into his mug.
“What?” Joonmyun asks defensively. “I don’t like the bitterness.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re so much older than me,” Chanyeol teases, pecking Joonmyun’s cheek in thanks as he accepts his mug. “Always with the sweet drinks.”
“Fruit Loops or Frosted Flakes?” Joonmyun asks, holding up two boxes.
“And the sweet cereal,” Chanyeol adds, smiling. “Fruit Loops, please.”
“I’ll have you know that I wake up with back pain,” Joonmyun says defensively as they carry their cereal and cups to the living room, settling on the floor in front of the TV. He switches it on and flips to the cartoon network.
“You also actually enjoy morning cartoons.” But Chanyeol only moves closer to Joonmyun, snuggling against his side.
“So do you!”
“But I’m 21 and in college, that’s basically a requirement,” Chanyeol counters. “I don’t even get carded like you do when we go out.”
Joonmyun blushes. “That’s not fair,” he protests. “You know, I think I found a white hair yesterday!”
“Ancient,” Chanyeol deadpans. “Admit it, hyungie, even Sehun and Tao treat you like a kid.”
Joonmyun huffs. “Never,” he says grumpily. “Sehun and Tao are just brats that don’t even know how to do their own laundry, let alone their taxes.”
“Aw, don’t be angry,” Chanyeol coos, the sound of Spongebob’s annoying laugh playing in the background. “I think you’re old!”
“I don’t want to be called old either, Chanyeol!”
Chanyeol throws his arms around Joonmyun, who protests with a squawk. “It’s okay, Joonmyun,” he says into the crook of Joonmyun’s neck, squeezing. “I’ll still love you when you’re old and wrinkly.”
Joonmyun sighs, giving up his attempts at freeing himself, and pats Chanyeol’s head. “Thank you, Chanyeol. That’s very reassuring.”
“Anytime, grandpa.”
“Chanyeol!”
Rating: r for mentions of nc-17
Word Count: 2115
Summary: Joonmyun and Chanyeol are perfectly capable of being a disgustingly domestic couple, despite the mild age difference.
Warning/s: mentions of sex, age difference (Joonmyun is 30, Chanyeol is 21)
Notes: I had a lot of fun writing this, and I'm happy to have participated in this exchange!
Joonmyun realizes, not for the first time, that maybe he’s too old for this. It’s partly the fact that sometimes he wakes up with back pain (the horror), and partly the fact that Chanyeol is begging him to go see Big Hero 6.
“Chanyeol, please,” Joonmyun pleads. “That theatre is going to be filled with children and overworked parents. My heart can’t handle that sort of stress.”
Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Sehun and Tao went to see it, just the two of them,” he informs his miserable-looking boyfriend. “And everything was fine for them.”
“They’re eighteen! I don’t know if you noticed, Chanyeol, but I’m thirty. I’m gonna have soccer moms come up to me after the movie and flirt with me about how cute it is that I’ve brought my son to the movies.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Chanyeol snorts. “I’m twenty-one, hyung, I can buy my own booze. No one’s going to think I’m your son. You’re not that old.”
“It’s happened before,” Joonmyun says darkly, eyes narrowing at the memory.
“Please, Joonmyun? Pleaaaase?” Chanyeol unleashes his stupid puppy dog eyes on him and Joonmyun wants to smack him because it’s over the second he notices.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you might as well be my son,” Joonmyun grumbles. Chanyeol whoops with joy and starts to drag Joonmyun to the ticket box, who struggles to wrest his wallet out of his back pocket.
They get the couple popcorn set to share, and it turns out the movie really is funny after all. And maybe Chanyeol helps mollify Joonmyun for the inevitable soccer mom propositions with a blowjob in the theatre washroom. It certainly helps him feel young again.
“Chanyeol, move over.”
“I don’t wanna.”
Joonmyun sighs. So it was going to be a “difficult teenager” kind of night. It doesn’t do his self-consciousness over his age any good to realize what good parenting practice he’s getting out of dealing with Chanyeol.
He prods at Chanyeol’s dangling left foot, taking in the image of his too-tall boyfriend sprawled along the length of their couch. “Come on, you giant, make some room for me.”
Chanyeol grins up at him around a mouthful of popcorn. “This is what you get for leaving, hyung,” he teases briefly before his eyes flicker back to the movie. “Now shh, I’m trying to pay attention.
“I’m just going to sit on you,” Joonmyun threatens with a huff, setting down the mug of hot chocolate he’d gone to make. The sound of explosions from the TV is the only response he gets, though Chanyeol’s obviously trying to keep a smirk off of his face.
So he sits on Chanyeol, right where it matters most, suppressing his own grin when a deliberate wiggle is the distraction he’d been aiming for.
“Hyung, not now,” Chanyeol complains immediately, hissing when Joonmyun answers with a very suggestive roll of his hips. “I want to watch this movie!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joonmyun replies, reaching over to grab his mug and blows softly. He can already feel Chanyeol hardening underneath him, and the satisfaction of being a tease is sweetened by the chocolate.
“You’re such a kid,” Joonmyun laughs when Chanyeol’s hands start to creep at his waist despite claiming to want to watch the movie. “So easy.”
“That’s not fair. You’ve had years longer than me to master the art of restraint. My own dick, however, does not have the same advantage.” Chanyeol huffs and gives up, realizing that he was being punished and that he had no choice but to submit. “At least share with me,” he whines, reaching for Joonmyun’s cup.
“I don’t wanna,” is all Joonmyun replies, emphasizing with a strategic wiggle. Chanyeol’s groan of defeat and lust has him snickering into his drink. “Now shut up, I want to watch the movie.”
Chanyeol cooks and Joonmyun washes the dishes. This is the routine, and they stick to it because once Joonmyun tried cooking, and Chanyeol had met his new best friends Baekhyun and Jongdae after they’d put out the fire in their apartment. This is why they end up, more often than not, waiting patiently for the tell-tale ring of their doorbell signaling that their take-out has arrived.
Because Chanyeol’s a shitty cook too.
One of the biggest highlights of their nights is the epic battle that decides where they order from.
“Where do you want to eat, Chanyeol?” Joonmyun asks, scratching his thigh absently as he peruses their kitchen cabinet for a snack. They’re running low on ramen, he notes with vague concern. He must go out to replenish their stock at some point, since they live on the stuff.
“I don’t know, hyung. Where do you want to go eat?” comes Chanyeol’s very helpful reply from where he’s dangling off the couch, playing on his 3DS intensely. Chanyeol is dressed only in a pair of Spongebob boxers that Kris got home for his birthday and socks - entirely underdressed for any spontaneous outings.
Joonmyun sighs because this is how all of their “arguments” over food go. He pads over to where Chanyeol and stands over him, casting a shadow. He nudges Chanyeol’s side with his knee. “You choose,” he demands. “I chose last time.”
“Quit poking me, Joonmyun, I’m trying to play - wait, I chose last time!”
“You did not,” Joonmyun says crisply. “I asked if you wanted pizza and you sneezed.”
Chanyeol tears his eyes away from his game long enough to look pleadingly up at an unimpressed Joonmyun. “If you love me,” he begins, “you’ll choose where we eat.”
“Oh, very mature, Chanyeol.” He sighs and plops down onto the floor beside the couch, beginning to sift through their enormous collection of takeout menus they’ve got stashed on the coffee table in lieu of tacky, big books.
“Thai?”
“Baekhyun and I had Thai a couple days ago for lunch.”
“Fried chicken?”
“Too unhealthy.”
“Pizza?”
“Not again!”
“I give up!” Joonmyun cries in despair, burying his face in the myriad of menus. Although plentiful, they’re all variations of the same suggestions he’d just given Chanyeol. “We just won’t eat. I’ll just lie here in my misery and you’ll keep playing your stupid game until the battery runs out, and then you’ll start nosing at me and whining in hunger. And then we’ll eventually get so hungry we’ll begin gnawing at each other. Pretty soon, I’ll have limbs missing and your face won’t be as pretty.”
Chanyeol sniffs in sympathy. “So tragic,” he mumbles, “We should write a book.”
Joonmyun lets his head fall back to rest on the couch, feeling Chanyeol’s stomach expand and contract from where it’s brushing the top of his head. “My name would be first, obviously,” he says decisively. “And we’d split the profits 70/30.”
“No way, hyung! You can’t write for shit, so I’d be the one to actually write it, so my name would be first and we’d split it 60/40 - 60 for myself, of course.” Chanyeol curses one last time before he shuts off his game and rolls over, facing Joonmyun.
“50/50.”
“58/42.”
“55/45 and I’ll blow you every morning for two weeks.”
“Three.”
“Deal.”
Having settled that dispute, they could now focus on other things. Chanyeol’s stomach growls and Joonmyun’s echoes in solidarity.
“You know, we have a crap-ton of ice-cream,” Chanyeol suggests slowly, fingers unconsciously playing with Joonmyun’s hair.
“And leftover cake from Jonginnie’s birthday,” Joonmyun points out.
They both eye each other for a long moment, deciding whether or not they were bold enough to go through with their scandalous idea.
“I’m thirty,” Joonmyun mutters to himself later, snuggled up with Chanyeol on the couch while the latest season of Mad Men marathons on their TV.
“Yep,” Chanyeol chirps cheerfully, offering another spoonful of Rocky Road to his smaller boyfriend. “You’re an irresponsible adult and my mother would have your head if she knew what you were feeding me.”
“Let’s not talk about your mother, Chanyeol,” Joonmyun groans around a mouthful of melting ice cream. “I love her and all, but not I’m not up for discussing my parenting techniques when you’ve got your dick pressed up against my ass.”
“Well then, what are you ‘up’ for?” Chanyeol asks playfully.
Joonmyun smacks Chanyeol’s head. “The next episode,” he says staunchly, “and this slice of cake.”
Chanyeol just groans and steals half of Joonmyun’s cake in spite.
“Chanyeol, can’t we order these online or something?” Joonmyun complains, carrying the basket because he’s afraid of Chanyeol hitting someone with it in his eagerness as he flits around the store.
“What did you say?” Chanyeol calls back, already two aisles over. “Hyung, oh my god, these are so pretty.”
Joonmyun trudges over to where Chanyeol’s rubbing his face against some fabric with, honestly, tacky patterns running all over it.
“And it’s so soft,” Chanyeol continues.
“How much time do you anticipate rubbing yourself over the curtains?” Joonmyun asks curiously.
“… Quite a bit?”
Joonmyun sighs, shaking his head. “Can’t we just get Kyungsoo to come and do this for us?” he tries instead, entirely unenthused about actual curtain shopping. “He loves this sort of thing.”
Chanyeol makes a noise, scandalized, and thwacks Joonmyun’s head with the curtain. “You can’t just let anyone choose curtains for us!” he admonishes. “It’s got to reflect you, and me, and us. It’s very personal, and I won’t have Kyungsoo’s weird obsession over home décor interfere with this special milestone in our relationship.”
“You and I,” Joonmyun corrects.
“Exactly. What do you think of this one?” Chanyeol holds out an even tackier sample eagerly.
Joonmyun sighs again. “I don’t think the floral stuff really represents, um, us.”
It was going to be a long day.
Because of Joonmyun’s weird work schedule at the office, they do not get to have the classic lazy Sunday mornings. But they make up for it on Tuesdays, when Joonmyun is off and Chanyeol doesn’t have classes until the afternoon.
Joonmyun is usually up first, because he’s used to it for work and Chanyeol tends to go to bed later, up late because of studying. He gingerly unpries Chanyeol’s limbs from his body, as the younger had a tendency to cling in his sleep, and drops a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead before shuffling into their ensuite bathroom, yawning. He doesn’t bother changing from the oversize shirt that had once been Chanyeol’s he’d worn to bed.
By the time Chanyeol has rolled out of bed - he never lasts long without another warm body to cuddle with - Joonmyun’s spooning sugar into two mugs of coffee by the counter. He walks over sleepily and presses up against Joonmyun’s back, dropping his head onto Joonmyun’s shoulder and watches. Chanyeol is especially affectionate in the morning, seeking physical contact in any way he can get it.
“I can’t believe you actually drink that stuff,” Chanyeol says, wrinkling his nose as Joonmyun adds a healthy amount of French Vanilla creamer into his mug.
“What?” Joonmyun asks defensively. “I don’t like the bitterness.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re so much older than me,” Chanyeol teases, pecking Joonmyun’s cheek in thanks as he accepts his mug. “Always with the sweet drinks.”
“Fruit Loops or Frosted Flakes?” Joonmyun asks, holding up two boxes.
“And the sweet cereal,” Chanyeol adds, smiling. “Fruit Loops, please.”
“I’ll have you know that I wake up with back pain,” Joonmyun says defensively as they carry their cereal and cups to the living room, settling on the floor in front of the TV. He switches it on and flips to the cartoon network.
“You also actually enjoy morning cartoons.” But Chanyeol only moves closer to Joonmyun, snuggling against his side.
“So do you!”
“But I’m 21 and in college, that’s basically a requirement,” Chanyeol counters. “I don’t even get carded like you do when we go out.”
Joonmyun blushes. “That’s not fair,” he protests. “You know, I think I found a white hair yesterday!”
“Ancient,” Chanyeol deadpans. “Admit it, hyungie, even Sehun and Tao treat you like a kid.”
Joonmyun huffs. “Never,” he says grumpily. “Sehun and Tao are just brats that don’t even know how to do their own laundry, let alone their taxes.”
“Aw, don’t be angry,” Chanyeol coos, the sound of Spongebob’s annoying laugh playing in the background. “I think you’re old!”
“I don’t want to be called old either, Chanyeol!”
Chanyeol throws his arms around Joonmyun, who protests with a squawk. “It’s okay, Joonmyun,” he says into the crook of Joonmyun’s neck, squeezing. “I’ll still love you when you’re old and wrinkly.”
Joonmyun sighs, giving up his attempts at freeing himself, and pats Chanyeol’s head. “Thank you, Chanyeol. That’s very reassuring.”
“Anytime, grandpa.”
“Chanyeol!”