just the motions, for rideon9095
Title: just the motions
For: rideon9095
Word count: 3369
Rating: pg-13
Summary: yixing's been leaving parts of himself behind, and yifan finally catches up. domestic au.
“Isn’t that my shirt?” Yixing asks, mouth pursed together in concentration, eyebrows knitted. It is his shirt, Yifan knows that, and it’s definitely too small on him, hiking up impossibly high every time Yifan so much as runs a hand through his hair. But Yixing has a tendency of leaving his clothes behind on Yifan’s bedroom floor, stealing Yifan’s clothes to replace them. He needs to teach his boyfriend a lesson.
“Uh, maybe?” he answers, trying to keep his expression neutral. Deep down, Yifan knows this isn’t going to work, almost entirely because he was far, far too weak to Yixing’s sad little pouts. Yixing’s blinking too much, in a way that concerns Yifan but he needs to stay strong. Draw this out.
“It looks really familiar...Maybe Lu Han has one like it,” Yixing says, more to himself at this point. Yifan thinks it’s kind of adorable how Yixing gets lost in his own thoughts. He wants to reach over and kiss the furrow growing between Yixing’s brows away but well, he’s supposed to be making a point or something.
“Maybe,” Yifan hums in return, turning back to his laptop. He’s reviewing evidence files for a case he’s working on, attempting to track down a paper trail of some sort. Things weren’t looking too bright right now.
“It’s rather small on you, you know,” Yixing comments, hand smoothing over the fabric. Yifan’s skin quivers at the touch, stomach flip-flopping. They’ve been together for nine months and Yifan’s body was still stuck on teenage hormone levels.
“You know it’s your shirt, don’t you?”
Yixing’s smile dimples, and Yifan groans, head tossing back. The shirt hikes up predictably and Yixing, shameless, traces a line down Yifan’s happy trail, giggling.
“It’s so cute, when you think you’re smarter than me,” Yixing grins, eyes sparkling. Yifan scowls at him, or attempts to anyway, but he probably just looks like an idiot in love.
“I thought maybe you didn’t want your clothes anymore.”
Yixing’s fingers are tracing Yifan’s neck now, following the bump of Yifan’s adam’s apple, smoothing over his collarbones. It makes Yifan’s skin shiver, heart pitter-pattering away as he watches the smug smile on Yixing’s face morph into fondness. “Yeah, I guess that’s why I left them here with you. Your closet is rather unfortunate.”
Yifan pouts, and Chanyeol is one hundred and ten percent right. He’s whipped. He can’t find it in himself to mind. Yixing’s pretty great.
“I wore those overalls once,” Yifan huffs, but he’s really too busy enjoying Yixing’s warm touch. If he reached over, he could probably kiss his way up to Yixing’s mouth from his exposed shoulder, but this is nice, too.
“One time too many, you mean,” Yixing laughs, but he’s leaning in and pressing his mouth against the corner of Yifan’s. Work forgotten, Yifan curls a hand around Yixing’s neck to hold him in place, kiss him soundly, softly, mouth parting to suck in Yixing’s bottom lip.
It doesn’t cross his mind until later, when he’s lying in bed with no Yixing there to keep him company, that most of Yixing’s wardrobe was really already at his place.
Yifan enjoys the weekends best, not just because he didn’t have to spend hours sitting in his police car with Chanyeol or Zitao as company (great as they might be, they both had an increasing tendency to only talk about each other in that forlorn, why won’t he notice me, sort of way) but because it meant Yixing would be over. Catching glimpses of each other over the week, lunch dates and dinner dates and whatnot were great, but Yifan liked waking up to Yixing in his bed.
He liked tracing his fingers along Yixing’s naked skin, until Yixing’s eyes would flutter open, sleepy smile adorable. Liked the way Yixing would curl up into him, tucked away in Yifan’s arms, face pressed against Yifan’s neck. And okay, maybe he liked the morning sex best, but who could blame him? Yixing always came with a laugh, or a quiet sigh, and it was entirely different from the desperate moans Yifan got otherwise. Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he wanted every little thing about Yixing all to himself, but Yixing was always giving and giving and giving. Yifan found it difficult not to take.
He only hoped he gave as much back.
“Hello?” Yifan answers, watching Zitao practically shove half his sandwich into his mouth in one go. Elegant.
“Hey, it’s me,” Yixing answers, a little quite. Yofan’s about to ask him if everything’s okay when he continues. “Did I leave my blender at your place?”
“What?”
“My blender, did I leave it at your place? ‘Cause I remember bringing it over and I couldn’t find it this morning and I really wanted a smoothie,” Yixing explains, and Yifan imagines the pout on his pretty mouth.
“I...have a blender, though,” Yifan trails, looking away from Zitao to glance back at the warehouse they’re staking out. Mob affiliated individuals had gone in an hour ago, and there was still no sign that they were coming out. Yifan was hoping to trail them, figure out where they were operating from. Most of these guys didn’t have ‘homes’ to go back to at the end of the day.
“Yes, but it sucks,” Yixing tells him, the sound of his fingers on his keyboard clacking in the background. Yifan knows that despite appearances, Yixing is as close to a multi-tasker as any one person can really ever get. Sometimes it bothered him a lot, when people wrote Yixing off as spacey and ditzy, but Yixing always caught on, hand settling on Yifan’s back, shoulder, knee. He was too agreeable when it came to himself, and Yifan wished Yixing would allow him to get as mad on his behalf as Yixing did for everyone else.
“First my toaster sucked, now my blender sucks?” Yifan says, trying his very best to sound offended. Are you gonna tell me I suck, next? he wants to add, but Zitao’s got this smug grin on his face, even as he watches the warehouse. Yifan’s not going to hear the end of this for a month, solid, at least.
“You said yourself that your toaster was a piece of shit,” Yixing reminds.
“Okay, yes, I did but -- ”
“I’ll come by after work, to get it,” Yixing interrupts. He’s awfully determined today, almost demanding. Yifan doesn’t mind, really. It’s kind of exciting.
“I’m not sure how long I have to be on this stakeout,” Yifan replies, brows furrowing. He didn’t want Yixing to come over just to sit around in an empty apartment. His ex-girlfriend had told him all about that.
“I have a key to your place.”
“I know,” Yifan starts, lowering his voice just a tad. “I just didn’t want you to be there...by yourself.”
Yixing laughs, a pleasant sound, maybe Yifan’s favourite. Yixing’s moans were pretty strong competition. “I can stay the night, if that’s okay? You have to come home eventually. Besides, I’m pretty sure I have enough of my stuff at your place to leave looking decent for work.”
“You can always stay,” Yifan says immediately, leaning away from Zitao, who’s got his ear pressed to the other side of Yifan’s phone, snickering.
“Awesome. See you tonight.”
Yifan shoves Zitao’s face away, ending the call and giving Zitao a less than impressed look. It doesn’t faze him, not that much does. Huang Zitao was shameless, but Yifan had to try.
Except Zitao’s just looking at him with this stupid, sly grin on his face and Yifan readies himself for the inevitable cheesy comment coming his way. The whole department enjoyed watching Yifan squirm and blush as they pestered him about his relationship with the IT specialist, but Zitao took a personal interest.
“So when’s the wedding?” Zitao coos, laughing when Yifan groans miserably.
“How about we focus on our job?”
“I didn’t know taking personal calls while on stakeouts was focusing,” Zitao says pointedly, and Yifan kinda wants to just sink into his seat that he just disappears.
“Just shut up,” Yifan mutters, Zitao’s laughter rumbling through the car as Yifan starts their car, ready to follow two suspects who have (finally) left the warehouse building.
He tries not to think about how nice it would be if Yifan could always go home to Yixing, if Yixing was home.
“How’s the case going, then?” Yixing asks, standing in front of a display for fuji apples. He’s picking through them, carefully discarding bruised apples. Yifan’s leaning against the cart, staring at Yixing’s ass because well, he’s allowed and Yixing always gives him this teasing smile when he gets caught staring.
Yifan sighs, “We followed some guys into Im’s area downtown, had to resort to following them on foot when they reached the waterfront. It was a waste of time, they just ended up at some strip club and we already know they run an illegal gambling den there.”
“No sign of Im?” Yixing glances over at Yifan, eyes soft, and he lets his hand trail over Yifan’s arm as he passes him by, toward the bananas.
“When is there ever any sign of him, he’s so fucking elusive,” Yifan whines, an apology on the tip of his tongue when he almost runs into an older lady’s cart in his pursuit of Yixing.
“How much more evidence do you guys even need? Cause at the very least you can start cleaning the city up.”
“The Chief wants to book him on as much shit as possible. He’ll be able to pay his bail if we go after him now, with just a few murder charges directly linked to him, and extortion and gambling don’t get you as far we need,” Yifan explains, grabbing a basket of peaches. Yixing doesn’t seem to care that Yifan’s stuck it in the cart, busy tapping on a watermelon.
“So you need the drug bust,” Yixing says slowly. They’re leaving the produce section, Yixing already having gone through all the vegetables. It looks like they’re preparing for a feast.
“Yeah. Zitao thinks he’s behind human trafficking in the area, too. So it’s possible we can bust him on that, as well, if we can get a solid lead on the drugs angle.”
Yixing hums, a little caught up in picking out cereal. Yifan could go on about his case forever, it’s only swallowed his life in the past year. He thinks it’s rather sweet that Yixing always shows so much interest.
Yifan finds himself trailing behind Yixing with the cart, making faces as Yixing points to various grocery items, grimace for no, happy nod for yes. The amused smile doesn’t leave Yixing’s face as they wander through the aisles and Yifan hadn’t been opposed to the idea of grocery shopping together. But wouldn’t it be troublesome for Yixing to take his half of the stuff home. Yifan wasn’t even sure what was for who.
Life would be a lot easier if they just…lived together.
Huh.
“It just dawned on you now, nine months into dating the guy you spent a year trying to impress, that maybe you should move in together? Are you eighteen?” Lu Ha n says disbelievingly. He sounds exasperated, eyes all buggy as he stares at Yifan, coffee cup hovering near his mouth.
“Um,” Yifan starts, cheeks warmer than they should be. He had just never wanted to push things, wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing? Take it slow, make sure your partner’s comfortable. Why couldn’t Yixing ask to move in? Because it’s your place, moron, his brain supplies helpfully. He scowls.
“God, I don’t know why Yixing is dating you,” Lu Han huffs, downing the contents of this cup. They’ve pulled an all-nighter, reviewing evidence, going over theories. The entire department was out to catch Im, and yet they couldn’t figure out how he was getting drugs into the city and leaving behind no evidence. Lu Han looks rather unfortunate with his eyes all red and the deep bags under his eyes. Yifan doesn’t voice that opinion out loud.
“Uh, because I’m totally awesome.”
“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Lu Han snorts with a roll of his eyes. Yifan tries not to be offended.
“I asked you for advice, not abuse,” Yifan mumbles, shuffling around Lu Han to pour himself a cup of coffee as well. His eyes are burning, wired awake through sheer will. Coffee tended to make him jittery, hands shaking by his third cup.
“My advice is to stop acting like a preteen and maybe act like you’re actually twenty-nine. If he’s the one, then treat him like it.”
Yifan feels kinda shitty, trepidation washing away as he realises he’s probably been rather obtuse about the subject until now. He stirs cream into his cup, suddenly rather aware of how much time Yixing spends at his place, how there are little bits of Yixing all over the apartment. Yixing had his own little corner on the bathroom counter, he’d brought over his own towels, bought new bedsheets for Yifan’s bed, brought his ridiculous cooking knife set over and left it there.
Yifan doesn’t even like the taste of coffee, but he sips his cup, trying to wash down guilt with bitterness. It wasn’t working, unsurprisingly. “I’m really an idiot, aren’t I?”
“I’m so glad you had this epiphany. I’ll make sure to tell Junmyeon that we need to change your desk plaque to World’s Biggest Idiot,” Lu Han assures, patting Yifan’s back before grabbing Yifan’s coffee mug and taking it with him back to his desk.
Chanyeol’s taking a nap all over their files while Junmyeon looks on unimpressed. They made Zitao go out to get them chicken feet. Yifan stares at his empty hand, the ghost of his mug lingering against his skin.
If he was at home right now, and Yixing had stayed the night, he could have been eating a proper breakfast. Instead, he was getting coffee he didn’t even want stolen from him.
God he couldn’t wait to get home.
The big break-through doesn’t come until after lunch, when Chanyeol intercepts a phone call between two of Im’s higher ups. Unsurprisingly, they’ve been smuggling the drugs in through the ports, paying off ship captains to hide the goods until they could come sneak them off right under the police’s nose.
The next shipment isn’t planned for another three days, and Yifan’s positive some of their men have been paid off to keep quiet, help Im’s gang of thugs out. It makes his blood boil, but they have to keep everything under a tight lid. If they intercept this in time, they’ll have more than enough evidence to lock up Im and his goons for years to come.
Yifan calls their IT department sometime after four but Jongdae picks up, telling Yifan that Yixing’s already left for the day. It feels weird, not having seen or spoken to Yixing for nearly three days now. They really never went that long without some kind of communication. A part of Yifan feels horrible, thinks that maybe Yixing deserves someone better than him, someone who isn’t gone for three days in a row.
By the time Yifan can make it out of the station, it’s past seven, plans to follow the drug deal, possibly bust it, underway. Lu Han was a particularly good strategist, and had the sort of networking skills Yifan could only be jealous of. They’d called in extra support, would have a proper briefing tomorrow.
He leaves his things behind, doesn’t want to take work home tonight, but as he grabs his keys, he spots a post-it note stuck over the picture of his mom he keeps on his desk.
ask him tonight dumbass
Lu Han.
Glancing over at Lu Han’s desk, Yifan finds him absent. He’s probably still in their conference room, refusing to leave despite the pushes and shoves he gave Yifan to go home. Surviving off of little sleep was a skill they’d all acquired, not just Lu Han, but the post-it note explained the enthusiasm.
Yifan sighs, smiling to himself as he bounds out the doors, nodding to a few officers as he finally makes it to his car. He contemplates just driving to Yixing’s apartment, but he needs a shower, wants to get out of the suit he’s been wearing for two days now. He can’t look like a slob while he asks Yixing to move in with him. That wasn’t what he wanted to remember.
Yifan shuffles into his apartment, yawning as he hangs his keys on the key hanger he keeps by the door. It’s not until he’s already poured himself a glass of water, leaning against the kitchen counter, that he realises he’s not alone.
Yixing’s sitting on the couch watching him with a bemused smile, hair a little messed up, like he’s been there long. Yifan’s heart squeezes in his chest, fingers tightening around his glass before he finally puts it down and walks over.
“Hey,” he greets softly, fingers carding through Yixing’s hair. Yixing’s eyes fall shut, leaning into the touch.
“Hey,” Yixing sighs.
“You didn’t say you were coming over,” Yifan comments, bending to press a kiss to Yixing’s head. He tastes hair but he doesn’t mind, not when Yixing’s smells like fresh mint. The back of the couch sits as a barrier between them and Yifan thinks about kissing Yixing, but the sudden thought occurs to him, that he hasn’t brushed his teeth in over 24 hours.
“I missed you,” Yixing mumbles, eyes fluttering open just as Yifan kneels so he can look Yixing in the eye without his boyfriend having to strain his neck upwards. There was always that desire to make Yixing comfortable, to ease away anything Yifan could.
“Sorry,” Yifan whispers, cupping Yixing’s cheek in his hand. Yixing smiles at him softly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Yifan’s mouth. “Work got a little complicated.”
“I know,” Yixing says, and Yifan sometimes can’t believe that Yixing, beautiful, sweet Yixing likes him, loves him so much. “I’m not upset or anything.”
“Because you’re too nice,” Yifan sighs, tracing the contours of Yixing’s face with his eyes, fingers smoothing over the cut of his cheekbones.
“I am,” Yixing grins, dimpling cutely. Yifan leans in and kisses it, can’t really help himself. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the woody scent that always lingered around Yixing. The tension he’s been carrying around in his shoulders seems to ease up, pounding headache nearly forgotten. Yifan’s definitely a moron for taking this long to realise this is what he’s wanted all this time: coming home to Yixing.
“Are you...Did you, fuck, wanna move in?” Yifan asks, ineloquent as usual. None of this was going as planned. He was still in his two-day old suit, he smelled like the cigarettes Zitao and Chanyeol chain smoked, and that stuffy office smell he hated.
“I was wondering how long it’d take you,” Yixing hums against Yifan’s mouth, kissing Yifan soundly, but it feels like there are fireworks crackling along Yifan’s lips, shooting down his spine. Yixing always felt like a wave rolling onto the shore, kissing the sand, steady.
“Wait, what?”
“Did you think I just left all my things here on accident?” Yixing laughs softly, hand curled up into Yifan’s hair, toying with the ends. His hair’s probably a mess, too, the gel holding it all back wearing out.
“...You didn’t?”
“And people tell me I’m slow. How are you a cop again?” Yixing’s eyes are twinkling, they’re so pretty, so warm. Yifan’s heart skips a beat, stomach twisting. Maybe love is feeling like everyday is the first day Yifan saw Yixing, everyday is the first time he kissed him, held him, slept with Yixing curled up in his arms.
“That’s totally different.”
“Mmhmm,” Yixing hums, clearly amused. “It’s alright Officer, you’re still my favourite cop.”
“I better be,” Yifan mumbles, kissing Yixing with all the wound up excitement, all his relief. Yixing melts into him, sighing into Yifan’s mouth, and Yifan doesn’t know what tomorrow holds, but he can’t wait to find out.
For: rideon9095
Word count: 3369
Rating: pg-13
Summary: yixing's been leaving parts of himself behind, and yifan finally catches up. domestic au.
“Isn’t that my shirt?” Yixing asks, mouth pursed together in concentration, eyebrows knitted. It is his shirt, Yifan knows that, and it’s definitely too small on him, hiking up impossibly high every time Yifan so much as runs a hand through his hair. But Yixing has a tendency of leaving his clothes behind on Yifan’s bedroom floor, stealing Yifan’s clothes to replace them. He needs to teach his boyfriend a lesson.
“Uh, maybe?” he answers, trying to keep his expression neutral. Deep down, Yifan knows this isn’t going to work, almost entirely because he was far, far too weak to Yixing’s sad little pouts. Yixing’s blinking too much, in a way that concerns Yifan but he needs to stay strong. Draw this out.
“It looks really familiar...Maybe Lu Han has one like it,” Yixing says, more to himself at this point. Yifan thinks it’s kind of adorable how Yixing gets lost in his own thoughts. He wants to reach over and kiss the furrow growing between Yixing’s brows away but well, he’s supposed to be making a point or something.
“Maybe,” Yifan hums in return, turning back to his laptop. He’s reviewing evidence files for a case he’s working on, attempting to track down a paper trail of some sort. Things weren’t looking too bright right now.
“It’s rather small on you, you know,” Yixing comments, hand smoothing over the fabric. Yifan’s skin quivers at the touch, stomach flip-flopping. They’ve been together for nine months and Yifan’s body was still stuck on teenage hormone levels.
“You know it’s your shirt, don’t you?”
Yixing’s smile dimples, and Yifan groans, head tossing back. The shirt hikes up predictably and Yixing, shameless, traces a line down Yifan’s happy trail, giggling.
“It’s so cute, when you think you’re smarter than me,” Yixing grins, eyes sparkling. Yifan scowls at him, or attempts to anyway, but he probably just looks like an idiot in love.
“I thought maybe you didn’t want your clothes anymore.”
Yixing’s fingers are tracing Yifan’s neck now, following the bump of Yifan’s adam’s apple, smoothing over his collarbones. It makes Yifan’s skin shiver, heart pitter-pattering away as he watches the smug smile on Yixing’s face morph into fondness. “Yeah, I guess that’s why I left them here with you. Your closet is rather unfortunate.”
Yifan pouts, and Chanyeol is one hundred and ten percent right. He’s whipped. He can’t find it in himself to mind. Yixing’s pretty great.
“I wore those overalls once,” Yifan huffs, but he’s really too busy enjoying Yixing’s warm touch. If he reached over, he could probably kiss his way up to Yixing’s mouth from his exposed shoulder, but this is nice, too.
“One time too many, you mean,” Yixing laughs, but he’s leaning in and pressing his mouth against the corner of Yifan’s. Work forgotten, Yifan curls a hand around Yixing’s neck to hold him in place, kiss him soundly, softly, mouth parting to suck in Yixing’s bottom lip.
It doesn’t cross his mind until later, when he’s lying in bed with no Yixing there to keep him company, that most of Yixing’s wardrobe was really already at his place.
Yifan enjoys the weekends best, not just because he didn’t have to spend hours sitting in his police car with Chanyeol or Zitao as company (great as they might be, they both had an increasing tendency to only talk about each other in that forlorn, why won’t he notice me, sort of way) but because it meant Yixing would be over. Catching glimpses of each other over the week, lunch dates and dinner dates and whatnot were great, but Yifan liked waking up to Yixing in his bed.
He liked tracing his fingers along Yixing’s naked skin, until Yixing’s eyes would flutter open, sleepy smile adorable. Liked the way Yixing would curl up into him, tucked away in Yifan’s arms, face pressed against Yifan’s neck. And okay, maybe he liked the morning sex best, but who could blame him? Yixing always came with a laugh, or a quiet sigh, and it was entirely different from the desperate moans Yifan got otherwise. Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he wanted every little thing about Yixing all to himself, but Yixing was always giving and giving and giving. Yifan found it difficult not to take.
He only hoped he gave as much back.
“Hello?” Yifan answers, watching Zitao practically shove half his sandwich into his mouth in one go. Elegant.
“Hey, it’s me,” Yixing answers, a little quite. Yofan’s about to ask him if everything’s okay when he continues. “Did I leave my blender at your place?”
“What?”
“My blender, did I leave it at your place? ‘Cause I remember bringing it over and I couldn’t find it this morning and I really wanted a smoothie,” Yixing explains, and Yifan imagines the pout on his pretty mouth.
“I...have a blender, though,” Yifan trails, looking away from Zitao to glance back at the warehouse they’re staking out. Mob affiliated individuals had gone in an hour ago, and there was still no sign that they were coming out. Yifan was hoping to trail them, figure out where they were operating from. Most of these guys didn’t have ‘homes’ to go back to at the end of the day.
“Yes, but it sucks,” Yixing tells him, the sound of his fingers on his keyboard clacking in the background. Yifan knows that despite appearances, Yixing is as close to a multi-tasker as any one person can really ever get. Sometimes it bothered him a lot, when people wrote Yixing off as spacey and ditzy, but Yixing always caught on, hand settling on Yifan’s back, shoulder, knee. He was too agreeable when it came to himself, and Yifan wished Yixing would allow him to get as mad on his behalf as Yixing did for everyone else.
“First my toaster sucked, now my blender sucks?” Yifan says, trying his very best to sound offended. Are you gonna tell me I suck, next? he wants to add, but Zitao’s got this smug grin on his face, even as he watches the warehouse. Yifan’s not going to hear the end of this for a month, solid, at least.
“You said yourself that your toaster was a piece of shit,” Yixing reminds.
“Okay, yes, I did but -- ”
“I’ll come by after work, to get it,” Yixing interrupts. He’s awfully determined today, almost demanding. Yifan doesn’t mind, really. It’s kind of exciting.
“I’m not sure how long I have to be on this stakeout,” Yifan replies, brows furrowing. He didn’t want Yixing to come over just to sit around in an empty apartment. His ex-girlfriend had told him all about that.
“I have a key to your place.”
“I know,” Yifan starts, lowering his voice just a tad. “I just didn’t want you to be there...by yourself.”
Yixing laughs, a pleasant sound, maybe Yifan’s favourite. Yixing’s moans were pretty strong competition. “I can stay the night, if that’s okay? You have to come home eventually. Besides, I’m pretty sure I have enough of my stuff at your place to leave looking decent for work.”
“You can always stay,” Yifan says immediately, leaning away from Zitao, who’s got his ear pressed to the other side of Yifan’s phone, snickering.
“Awesome. See you tonight.”
Yifan shoves Zitao’s face away, ending the call and giving Zitao a less than impressed look. It doesn’t faze him, not that much does. Huang Zitao was shameless, but Yifan had to try.
Except Zitao’s just looking at him with this stupid, sly grin on his face and Yifan readies himself for the inevitable cheesy comment coming his way. The whole department enjoyed watching Yifan squirm and blush as they pestered him about his relationship with the IT specialist, but Zitao took a personal interest.
“So when’s the wedding?” Zitao coos, laughing when Yifan groans miserably.
“How about we focus on our job?”
“I didn’t know taking personal calls while on stakeouts was focusing,” Zitao says pointedly, and Yifan kinda wants to just sink into his seat that he just disappears.
“Just shut up,” Yifan mutters, Zitao’s laughter rumbling through the car as Yifan starts their car, ready to follow two suspects who have (finally) left the warehouse building.
He tries not to think about how nice it would be if Yifan could always go home to Yixing, if Yixing was home.
“How’s the case going, then?” Yixing asks, standing in front of a display for fuji apples. He’s picking through them, carefully discarding bruised apples. Yifan’s leaning against the cart, staring at Yixing’s ass because well, he’s allowed and Yixing always gives him this teasing smile when he gets caught staring.
Yifan sighs, “We followed some guys into Im’s area downtown, had to resort to following them on foot when they reached the waterfront. It was a waste of time, they just ended up at some strip club and we already know they run an illegal gambling den there.”
“No sign of Im?” Yixing glances over at Yifan, eyes soft, and he lets his hand trail over Yifan’s arm as he passes him by, toward the bananas.
“When is there ever any sign of him, he’s so fucking elusive,” Yifan whines, an apology on the tip of his tongue when he almost runs into an older lady’s cart in his pursuit of Yixing.
“How much more evidence do you guys even need? Cause at the very least you can start cleaning the city up.”
“The Chief wants to book him on as much shit as possible. He’ll be able to pay his bail if we go after him now, with just a few murder charges directly linked to him, and extortion and gambling don’t get you as far we need,” Yifan explains, grabbing a basket of peaches. Yixing doesn’t seem to care that Yifan’s stuck it in the cart, busy tapping on a watermelon.
“So you need the drug bust,” Yixing says slowly. They’re leaving the produce section, Yixing already having gone through all the vegetables. It looks like they’re preparing for a feast.
“Yeah. Zitao thinks he’s behind human trafficking in the area, too. So it’s possible we can bust him on that, as well, if we can get a solid lead on the drugs angle.”
Yixing hums, a little caught up in picking out cereal. Yifan could go on about his case forever, it’s only swallowed his life in the past year. He thinks it’s rather sweet that Yixing always shows so much interest.
Yifan finds himself trailing behind Yixing with the cart, making faces as Yixing points to various grocery items, grimace for no, happy nod for yes. The amused smile doesn’t leave Yixing’s face as they wander through the aisles and Yifan hadn’t been opposed to the idea of grocery shopping together. But wouldn’t it be troublesome for Yixing to take his half of the stuff home. Yifan wasn’t even sure what was for who.
Life would be a lot easier if they just…lived together.
Huh.
“It just dawned on you now, nine months into dating the guy you spent a year trying to impress, that maybe you should move in together? Are you eighteen?” Lu Ha n says disbelievingly. He sounds exasperated, eyes all buggy as he stares at Yifan, coffee cup hovering near his mouth.
“Um,” Yifan starts, cheeks warmer than they should be. He had just never wanted to push things, wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing? Take it slow, make sure your partner’s comfortable. Why couldn’t Yixing ask to move in? Because it’s your place, moron, his brain supplies helpfully. He scowls.
“God, I don’t know why Yixing is dating you,” Lu Han huffs, downing the contents of this cup. They’ve pulled an all-nighter, reviewing evidence, going over theories. The entire department was out to catch Im, and yet they couldn’t figure out how he was getting drugs into the city and leaving behind no evidence. Lu Han looks rather unfortunate with his eyes all red and the deep bags under his eyes. Yifan doesn’t voice that opinion out loud.
“Uh, because I’m totally awesome.”
“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Lu Han snorts with a roll of his eyes. Yifan tries not to be offended.
“I asked you for advice, not abuse,” Yifan mumbles, shuffling around Lu Han to pour himself a cup of coffee as well. His eyes are burning, wired awake through sheer will. Coffee tended to make him jittery, hands shaking by his third cup.
“My advice is to stop acting like a preteen and maybe act like you’re actually twenty-nine. If he’s the one, then treat him like it.”
Yifan feels kinda shitty, trepidation washing away as he realises he’s probably been rather obtuse about the subject until now. He stirs cream into his cup, suddenly rather aware of how much time Yixing spends at his place, how there are little bits of Yixing all over the apartment. Yixing had his own little corner on the bathroom counter, he’d brought over his own towels, bought new bedsheets for Yifan’s bed, brought his ridiculous cooking knife set over and left it there.
Yifan doesn’t even like the taste of coffee, but he sips his cup, trying to wash down guilt with bitterness. It wasn’t working, unsurprisingly. “I’m really an idiot, aren’t I?”
“I’m so glad you had this epiphany. I’ll make sure to tell Junmyeon that we need to change your desk plaque to World’s Biggest Idiot,” Lu Han assures, patting Yifan’s back before grabbing Yifan’s coffee mug and taking it with him back to his desk.
Chanyeol’s taking a nap all over their files while Junmyeon looks on unimpressed. They made Zitao go out to get them chicken feet. Yifan stares at his empty hand, the ghost of his mug lingering against his skin.
If he was at home right now, and Yixing had stayed the night, he could have been eating a proper breakfast. Instead, he was getting coffee he didn’t even want stolen from him.
God he couldn’t wait to get home.
The big break-through doesn’t come until after lunch, when Chanyeol intercepts a phone call between two of Im’s higher ups. Unsurprisingly, they’ve been smuggling the drugs in through the ports, paying off ship captains to hide the goods until they could come sneak them off right under the police’s nose.
The next shipment isn’t planned for another three days, and Yifan’s positive some of their men have been paid off to keep quiet, help Im’s gang of thugs out. It makes his blood boil, but they have to keep everything under a tight lid. If they intercept this in time, they’ll have more than enough evidence to lock up Im and his goons for years to come.
Yifan calls their IT department sometime after four but Jongdae picks up, telling Yifan that Yixing’s already left for the day. It feels weird, not having seen or spoken to Yixing for nearly three days now. They really never went that long without some kind of communication. A part of Yifan feels horrible, thinks that maybe Yixing deserves someone better than him, someone who isn’t gone for three days in a row.
By the time Yifan can make it out of the station, it’s past seven, plans to follow the drug deal, possibly bust it, underway. Lu Han was a particularly good strategist, and had the sort of networking skills Yifan could only be jealous of. They’d called in extra support, would have a proper briefing tomorrow.
He leaves his things behind, doesn’t want to take work home tonight, but as he grabs his keys, he spots a post-it note stuck over the picture of his mom he keeps on his desk.
ask him tonight dumbass
Lu Han.
Glancing over at Lu Han’s desk, Yifan finds him absent. He’s probably still in their conference room, refusing to leave despite the pushes and shoves he gave Yifan to go home. Surviving off of little sleep was a skill they’d all acquired, not just Lu Han, but the post-it note explained the enthusiasm.
Yifan sighs, smiling to himself as he bounds out the doors, nodding to a few officers as he finally makes it to his car. He contemplates just driving to Yixing’s apartment, but he needs a shower, wants to get out of the suit he’s been wearing for two days now. He can’t look like a slob while he asks Yixing to move in with him. That wasn’t what he wanted to remember.
Yifan shuffles into his apartment, yawning as he hangs his keys on the key hanger he keeps by the door. It’s not until he’s already poured himself a glass of water, leaning against the kitchen counter, that he realises he’s not alone.
Yixing’s sitting on the couch watching him with a bemused smile, hair a little messed up, like he’s been there long. Yifan’s heart squeezes in his chest, fingers tightening around his glass before he finally puts it down and walks over.
“Hey,” he greets softly, fingers carding through Yixing’s hair. Yixing’s eyes fall shut, leaning into the touch.
“Hey,” Yixing sighs.
“You didn’t say you were coming over,” Yifan comments, bending to press a kiss to Yixing’s head. He tastes hair but he doesn’t mind, not when Yixing’s smells like fresh mint. The back of the couch sits as a barrier between them and Yifan thinks about kissing Yixing, but the sudden thought occurs to him, that he hasn’t brushed his teeth in over 24 hours.
“I missed you,” Yixing mumbles, eyes fluttering open just as Yifan kneels so he can look Yixing in the eye without his boyfriend having to strain his neck upwards. There was always that desire to make Yixing comfortable, to ease away anything Yifan could.
“Sorry,” Yifan whispers, cupping Yixing’s cheek in his hand. Yixing smiles at him softly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Yifan’s mouth. “Work got a little complicated.”
“I know,” Yixing says, and Yifan sometimes can’t believe that Yixing, beautiful, sweet Yixing likes him, loves him so much. “I’m not upset or anything.”
“Because you’re too nice,” Yifan sighs, tracing the contours of Yixing’s face with his eyes, fingers smoothing over the cut of his cheekbones.
“I am,” Yixing grins, dimpling cutely. Yifan leans in and kisses it, can’t really help himself. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the woody scent that always lingered around Yixing. The tension he’s been carrying around in his shoulders seems to ease up, pounding headache nearly forgotten. Yifan’s definitely a moron for taking this long to realise this is what he’s wanted all this time: coming home to Yixing.
“Are you...Did you, fuck, wanna move in?” Yifan asks, ineloquent as usual. None of this was going as planned. He was still in his two-day old suit, he smelled like the cigarettes Zitao and Chanyeol chain smoked, and that stuffy office smell he hated.
“I was wondering how long it’d take you,” Yixing hums against Yifan’s mouth, kissing Yifan soundly, but it feels like there are fireworks crackling along Yifan’s lips, shooting down his spine. Yixing always felt like a wave rolling onto the shore, kissing the sand, steady.
“Wait, what?”
“Did you think I just left all my things here on accident?” Yixing laughs softly, hand curled up into Yifan’s hair, toying with the ends. His hair’s probably a mess, too, the gel holding it all back wearing out.
“...You didn’t?”
“And people tell me I’m slow. How are you a cop again?” Yixing’s eyes are twinkling, they’re so pretty, so warm. Yifan’s heart skips a beat, stomach twisting. Maybe love is feeling like everyday is the first day Yifan saw Yixing, everyday is the first time he kissed him, held him, slept with Yixing curled up in his arms.
“That’s totally different.”
“Mmhmm,” Yixing hums, clearly amused. “It’s alright Officer, you’re still my favourite cop.”
“I better be,” Yifan mumbles, kissing Yixing with all the wound up excitement, all his relief. Yixing melts into him, sighing into Yifan’s mouth, and Yifan doesn’t know what tomorrow holds, but he can’t wait to find out.