2014: Hey, Macaroona (for EVERYONE)
For: EVERYONE
From: ANONYMOUS until December 30, 2014
Title: Hey, Macaroona
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Baekhyun/Kai, side!Luhan/Chen
Length: 8,970 words
Summary: Baekhyun has two problems this semester: 1) Hot Kid is illegally hot; 2) the Macarena is actually kinda hard.
Warnings: language, lame humor
Notes: Enjoy?
At the start of fall semester of junior year (fuck yeah, upper classmen!) Baekhyun spots the hottest piece of ass he’s seen since Yixing accidentally lit Luhan’s boxers on fire trying to get gochujang stains out of them back in May. Yeah, campus was pretty dead over the summer, but now things are hopping.
Dr. Jung should probably keep his Intro to Interpretive Dance kids from literally hopping in the fountain, but Baekhyun’s not complaining so long as he’s free to admire pert nipples through soaked shirts on his way to class.
Baekhyun’s not on the quad when this life shattering moment happens, though. He’s in the library with Jongdae, so he unfortunately can’t shout appreciative obscenities after the dude.
Oh well, Jongdae would’ve punched him for that anyway. Jongdae does not approve of catcalling for some reason, so Baekhyun just watches the dude slouch by in tattered sweats and an almost see through tank top, a silent scream of adoration dying unreleased from his vocal chords.
"That’s a little dramatic," Yixing drawls a few hours later when Baekhyun attempts to verbalize his volcano of feelings. "Why didn’t you just whisper hello?"
Baekhyun sighs and flicks the rim of Yixing’s coffee mug. Why are his friends so dense? "Because we were in a library." You can’t hit on really hot people in the library, the stuffy ambience kind of ruins the effect.
Yixing rolls his eyes and hugs his pillow tighter to his chest. "So what’s his name?"
"That’s the problem, I don’t know!" Baekhyun glares. Way to rub it in, Yixing. "If I knew I could’ve facebook stalked him back to sixth grade by now and drooled all over the pics from his adorably awkward phase."
"Sixth grade?" Yixing lets out a soft whistle and scratches his earlobe. "So he’s a youngin’, eh?"
"Either a freshie or a transfer, anyway." Jongdae sighs, then scratches out the sketch he’s been working on since lunch. "Ugh, I can’t think of anything today!"
"Don’t try to force it." Luhan sifts his fingers into Jongdae’s hair. "Why don’t you take a walk, find some fresh air and inspiration?"
"Ok," Jongdae mutters, turning to bury his face in Luhan’s shirt. "But only if you come with me."
"Be careful!" Baekhyun grunts as Luhan discreetly shoves the sketchpad under the microwave while Jongdae’s still distracted by the hand stroking his hair. "I took a walk and came home with too much inspiration."
"Yeah, sure," Yixing snickers, "if by inspiration you mean hard-on." Luhan rolls his eyes and pulls Jongdae up by his shirt collar.
"Imma take a nap, Baek. You can leave now." Yixing waves a flourishy hand towards the door and disappears into his room. Baekhyun groans and bangs his forehead on the kitchen table one last time while it’s still available, very much in need of its brain numbing solace. His friends are no help at all.
"Come on, Baekhyun," Luhan calls from the doorway as he shoves flipflops onto Jongdae’s feet. "We’ll walk you to the student center. Maybe you’ll run into your inspiration again over there!"
******
Baekhyun, however, does not run into him at the student center, or at the gym, or even in the cafeteria. Baekhyun hasn’t set foot in the cafeteria since the beginning of sophomore year when Dominoes finally started delivering to campus, but as Luhan kindly points out, "what better place to stalk a freshie than the cafeteria?"
After two unfruitful weeks of staking out a strategic corner of the dining hall and scanning the sidewalks whenever he steps outside, Baekhyun has come to the conclusion that Hot Kid is either a ninja, or has no life. (He’s still refusing to confront Luhan’s nonsensical notion that it was all an illusion brought on by book fumes).
It’s halfway to midterms and Baekhyun’s reaching his breaking point of subsisting entirely on Krispy Kremes and cup noodles (the Byun family version of wasting away with a broken heart) when Baekhyun hits the jackpot.
He’s back at the library (well, stationed outside the library, waiting for Yixing to bring him coffee) when Red Hot Target slinks by with rolling hips and an enourmous yawn. A tall blonde kid is chasing him across the quad, yelling "Kim! Jong! In!"
Before Baekhyun can whip out a snazzy pickup line and the half melted toblerone bar jammed in his back pocket as a sacrificial offering to Hot Kid’s ass, said idol is tackled to the grass. The loud blonde guy sits heavily on his chest at the same moment Yixing emerges from the library bearing Elixir of Life.
"Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?" Yixing scolds with a hum, wrapping him in a clingy backhug. He hands Baekhyun a frappuccino over his shoulder and starts to shove him towards the student center.
"But--! But that was--!" Baekhyun splutters, struggling against Yixing’s viselike grip.
"Really now, is homoerotic PDA so shocking? You live with Jongdae," Yixing purrs in his ear, digging his fingers into Baekhyun’s waist.
"Get off me!" Baekyun frees himself by slamming his boot heel into Yixing’s sneaker, but it’s too late. The cuddlepuddle heap of hot ass is nowhere in sight. "That was--!"
"Oh!" Yixing’s eyes widen in sudden comprehension. "Was that--??"
"Yes." Baekhyun sighs, shoulders slumping as it sinks in that he just lost another chance to make human contact with his beautiful alien. Hot Kid must be part alien, right? ‘Cause no human could look so amazeballs in the hobo clothes he wanders around in. "Yixing?"
"Yeah?"
"Forget the espresso, I need a double shot of vodka."
******
Baekhyun comes to the next morning with a post-it stuck to his forehead. He peels it off and it says: check you phone.
Baekhyun squints at the note, then squints at his phone. There’s a string of new messages from Yixing:
Kim jongin
Freshie dance major
If u want his # n class sched we can negotiate a price $$
The last message is a pic of Hot Kid snapped mid-pirouette, thick dark hair a whirlwind around his ears, pink tongue peeking through plush lips to accentuate a razor blade jawline. The sinewy outlines of his arms and torso glisten with sweat, and suddenly hunger pangs in Baekhyun’s gut twist into something more than breakfast can satisfy.
Dance major, huh. That should’ve been a warning signal right there, but Baekhyun’s brain is still too hazy with sleep and adoration to think objectively. He pulls on jeans and races to the registrar’s office to sign up for a dance course before he can chicken out and change his mind.
It’s pretty much a win-win situation, Baekhyun thinks as he scrawls his name on the registration form and hands over his credit card. He has plenty of time in his schedule, and he could use another easy A class this semester. How hard can Intro to Dance be?
******
"How was your first dance class?" Jongdae is making a Marie Antoinette inspired voodoo doll out of his dressmaker’s form, leftover bits of gold fringe and chantilly lace stabbed into place with copious amounts of straight pins.
"Um," Baekhyun says, and contemplates swallowing a handful of the pins. Did he say dance was easy? How about NO.
"Ok, so is he speechless with joy and amazement, or is this what despair looks like?" Luhan waves a hand Baekhyun’s face and pokes at his cheeks with an ostrich plume.
"I think I pulled my clavicle muscle," Baekhyun murmurs into a skein of silk floss hand dyed the color of snot, "except I don’t even know where that is."
Yixing snorts, looking up from his game of guitar pick tiddly winks. "What did you learn today? "Ring-Around-the-Rosies" with aerial layouts?"
Baekhyun throws a badly aimed retractable tape measure at his head. Yixing ducks and it catches on a frill of swamp-thing lace in Jongdae’s fist.
"We’re learning the Macarena. But since I added late and missed the first five sessions, I have no idea what’s going on. I’m so lost, I might as well be in Timbuktu." Timbuktu is far, far away from Korea, right? Baekhyun’s clavicle muscle hurts so much he’s not even sure anymore.
"Why did you sign up for this class again?" Luhan pops a grape in his mouth and wipes his fingers on Yixing’s shirt.
"Oh, that reminds! Reason #2 my life sucks ass, but not literally," Baekhyun sighs, flattening an empty ribbon spool between his palms, "Hot Kid wasn’t even there!"
"Oh, I see." Luhan yawns, stretching out his legs to hook his heels on Baekhyun’s chair rung. "This is about a boy. I was worried there for a minute you were doing something for the sake of art, and not in a pathetic attempt to get laid."
"Way to make hasty assumptions!" Baekhyun struggles to sit up on his folding chair, slightly offended.
"But amirite? Or amirite?" Luhan nudges Yixing, a smug little grin on his smug little face. "The last time you set foot in the arts building was to go after that choir dude Joonmyun."
"I thought for sure…I don’t get it!" Baekhyun wails, decidely ignoring Luhan. "Why wasn’t Hot Kid in Intro to Dance?"
"Of course Jongin isn’t in that class, it’s for non-majors." Yixing turns a page of his doodled on notes with a guitar pick.
"Jongin?" Luhan perks up at the name, tossing a grape in his palm. "As in, Minseokkie’s little shadow?"
"Yup," Yixing says, and steals the grape right out of his fingers.
"Shit," Baekhyun groans, knocking his head into a convenient pile of fabric scraps in front of him. He didn’t even think about separate classes for majors. When he was stalking--ahem--admiring Joonmyun hyung from a distance, he just joined the university choir open to vocal majors and soccer players alike. "So what do I do?"
"I suggest you drop the class." Jongdae snaps a pair of pinking shears open and shut. The blades grind menacingly as Baekhyun gulps. "You have...31 minutes to make it to the registrar’s before they close," Jongdae says, checking his phone. "Today’s the last add/drop day."
"Shit!"
******
Of course, it would be just his luck for the office to close half an hour early, ‘cause it’s Friday and a national holiday in Greenland, as the notice posted on the glass doors informs him. The school gets a little carried away with their diversity friendliness sometimes but this is the first time it has directly endangered Baekhyun’s well being, and he has no idea of how to proceed.
So Baekhyun just stands and stares at the dark windows of the empty office for what feels like an hour, the screams of his GPA being dragged into the dust echoing in his ears. When the maintenance dude raking leaves on lawn starts to give him funny sideglances, he resolves to embrace the inevitable and drags himself back to Yixing’s to cry.
"I’m going to fail this stupid class, and it’s going to ruin my stupid GPA, and then I’ll have no hope of a future." Baekhyun is perched on Yixing’s kitchen counter, kicking his heels into the dishwasher door with the despondent fury of a rain drenched kitten.
"Aw, it can’t be that bad." Yixing successfully flips an omelette on the first try and looks over to Baekhyun with a self-satisfied smile.
"But Hyung! If no one will hire me, who will consider dating Byun Baekhyun: Future Homeless Person?"
Baekhyun can hardly wrap his mind around it, much less try to explain it to Yixing, but this is his reality. In noble pursuit of a beautiful ass, he unwittingly condemned himself to a forever lonely future. How ironic can it get.
"You haven’t even asked him out yet, don’t write yourself off as a failure." Yixing reaches over to rub Baekhyun’s belly and turns off the stove.
"You haven’t even talked to him, period," Jongdae says from his sprawl on the sofa.
"Hehe, and sounds like you never will!" Luhan’s smug little laugh is cut off by a deft punch to the gut from Yixing, but Baekhyun can’t properly appreciate his pain, he’s so immersed in his own despair.
"Who knew the Macarena was such social suicide?" Baekhyun wails to the ceiling, ignoring the fork and plate Yixing tries to hand him.
"Um, like everyone?" Luhan mutters. He’s still glaring at an oblivious Yixing, rubbing his gut with the heel of his hand.
"But what do I do?" Baekhyun repeats for the billionth and a third time. Group troubleshooting of life crises isn’t usually this emotionally taxing, but then again, Baekhyun has never been the one with a problem before. That’s usually Jongdae’s territory.
"Why don’t you just ask him for tutoring?" Yixing gives up on the plate and silverware and just spoons a strip of omelette into Baekhyun’s mouth. Baekhyun almost chokes as the idea takes hold in his gut.
"You! Are a brilliant mastermind, Hyung!" Baekhyun launches himself off the counter, making a flying squirrel leap to attach himself to Yixing’s side. "Omfg, I could kiss you!"
"Whoa, there!" Yixing laughs. He shields his face with the greasy spatula to ward off Baekhyun’s whirlwind of affection. "How about just a hug and some free chocolate?"
******
Armed with nothing more than his superior sense of bootylicious direction and a burning conviction that Byun BAMFhyun x Hot Kid are #Meant2B, Baekhyun sets out to meet his destiny.
He finds Hot Kid in a darkened studio soon after, marking positions to music through his headphones.
He’s not doing the steps full out but there’s still electricity in the lines of his body, each movement charged with a magnetic pull that drags Baekhyun closer. Baekhyun can almost hear the music vibrating silently in the vinyl tiles beneath his toes. He gets a little choked up, watching his crush move like this, so free, uninhibited, alone--
Hot Kid whirls around in a parallel pirouette and freezes on the third rotation, eyes white against the shadows of his face in the dark as he jumps back a meter. He crashes into the dustmop propped in the the corner by the stereo and lands on his ass, a tower of precariously balanced CDs in cheap jewel cases cascading onto his head and lap.
"Oh hello there!" Baekhyun chirps with a wave, deciding now is the time to be as platonic and friendly as all get out, lest he scare the poor kid further with his charm. "I’m Baekhyun and I heard you can dance?"
Hot Kid just blinks at him owlishly from the dark recesses of the corner and then nods, once, twice.
Baekhyun gulps. Well, this is kinda awkward. And then he remembers the WWJD headband Jongdae cross stitched him for his birthday last year (What Would Joongmyun hyung Do?), and his conscience kicks in.
"Here! Let me help you!" Baekhyun crosses the floor and drops to his knees to start excavating Hot Kid from the avalanche of CDs.
"Thanks," Hot Kid says, and offers a flash of white teeth in a perfect, sappy smile that has Baekhyun’s toes curling from the adorable, and says, "I’m Jongin. Hi."
Oh. Oh yeah. Yixing did mention his name that one time. Maybe now is a good time for Baekhyun to start using his real name.
"Jongin," Baekhyun says tentatively, testing it out on his tongue. "Hi. So! You, me, dance?"
"Huh?"
"Eh, what I’m trying to say is….we need your help!" Baekhyun screws up his face and musters his best Bugs Bunny voice. Awkward, but it’s usually effective on drunk Yixing, so who knows, it might work now too.
Jongin just blinks again and tilts his head to one side.
"Are you trying to hit on me by quoting Space Jam, or are you legit looking for a dance tutor?"
Baekhyun sighs. Why does no one take him seriously when his pores are screaming "serious" to the frickin’ stratosphere?
Jongin shifts uncomfortably, and Baekhyun realizes he’s still half buried in ripped discs of Best of Duke Ellington and Vanilla Ice remixes, and that Baekhyun is looming over him while backed into a corner. Oops. Is this what Yixing meant when he wrote "sometimes, zealous can seem aggressive" on the advice column section of his birthday card?
"Uh, let me get the light!" Baekhyun scrambles to his feet and dashes to the door to fumble for the switch. By the time the third overhead fluorescent flickers to life, Jongin has sloughed off his plastic coffin and is standing in the middle of the floor again, still blinking.
"Ok, deep breath," Baekhyun narrates, as if he’s approaching a wild egret with a broken wing. "Let’s try that again! Hello there! I am business major Byun Baekhyun, Econ genius and idiot enough to sign up for Intro to Dance when the last time I danced was at my 5th birthday party. It’s nice to meet you! May I just say that the Macarena is currently kicking my ass, or at least the floor is, so can you teach me?"
"What?"
"I can’t Macarena," Baekhyun repeats, making sure to round his lips clearly around the vowels, just in case Jongin’s hard of hearing.
"Well, I can’t either," Jongin says with a slow blink..
"Please, please help me." Baekhyun whimpers, sliding shaking fingers into his hair. "I don’t know how to move...right. Like a fluid."
"You mean fluidly?" Jongin squints, like he just woke up from a nap and he’s having a hard time deciphering Baekhyun’s words. His squinty face is so, so cute, that Baekhyun has a hard time focusing.
"Ahah! Yes! That!" Baekhyun nods and smiles. "And you looked pretty fluid just a moment ago, like a river of molten chocolate lava!"
Jongin squints and rests his hands on his hips, the sinews of his bare arms shifting under golden brown skin as he moves. "Was that just a dig at my tan? ‘Cause if--!"
"No no no no no!" Baekhyun flails his arms like Luhan on International TVXQ Fans Unite Day. "Comparisons to chocolate mean I like you, highly respect and venerate you! You can’t win much harder that chocolate in my book." Baekhyun grins expectantly, feeling pretty good about having successfully talked his way out of this one. Smooth, Byun. You da man.
"Ok," Jongin nods. "I agree with you on the chocolate part, anyway. But why don’t I hook you up with a sunbae? I can give you Minseok hyung’s number, ‘cause I’ve never taught before. I’m just a freshman."
"Yeah, I know," Baekhyun smirks, "you’re inexperienced so you better give me a discount."
"You actually wanna pay me?" Jongin is still squinting, even though the lights are fully on now.
"Uh, I can pay you in fudgesicles?" Baekhyun offers, because he’s always been good at thinking on his feet.
"Deal!" Jongin’s sweaty palm encases Baekhyun’s hand, before Baekhyun even has the chance to internally scream in victory. Jongin’s sweaty palm is gross, but since it’s Jongin’s sweat, Baekhyun guesses he can make allowances.
"Deal!"
******
They agree to text out the details, and set their first session for next Tuesday.
Baekhyun doesn’t own any dance clothes, and Jongin didn’t specify what to wear, so he goes with his usual cargo shorts and polo, and a thick pair of tube socks since he still hasn’t ordered the footwear listed on his Intro to Dance syllabus. (What the hell is a "Hermes lyrical foot glove," anyway? It sounds like a title of those bad pornos Luhan is always sending him).
Jongdae offers to give him a lift to campus, but Baekhyun politely refuses and says he’d rather walk. Not gonna lie, he is a little nervous, and he’d just end up pissing off Jongdae by taking out his nerves with his nails on the upholstery.
It’s a twenty minute hike to campus, fifteen if he speed walks, and usually trekking it alone feels like it takes two and a half years. Today, though, the distance passes in a blur of broken sidewalk and wavering dreams.
Baekhyun strolls into the studio to find Jongin and that tall blonde kid from the quad all huddled in the corner by the stereo stand. They’re both hunched over an ipod, Jongin’s legs splayed behind him, the other guy crosslegged and stretching.
Baekhyun toes off his sneakers at the edge of the dance floor. He steps out into the middle of the room, his slightly sweaty socks misting the vinyl floor with warm condensation. Gross. Now he wishes he would have worn sandals and packed a change of socks.
Baekhyun bounces on the balls of his feet and shoves his fists in his pocket, flapping his elbows and sort of bending his knees because he knows he’s supposed to warm up, but he’s not well versed in dancer-people secrets. After a minute and a half of uncomfortably hopping from one foot to the other and waiting for Jongin to turn around and acknowledge his presence, Baekhyun finally clears his throat with a high pitched cough. Blonde Kid turns his head with a blank eyed stare, but nudges Jongin when Baekhyun wiggles his fingers in greeting.
Jongin almost falls over again at the sight of Baekhyun ready and waiting, a look of shock flaying his features, but Blonde Kid catches him by the shoulder and Jongin hops to his feet. He’s wearing fitted black slippers that mold to his exquisite feet instead of sweaty athletic socks, Baekhyun notices with a gulp.
"Oh hi," Jongin says, "you’re early?"
"By like, three minutes," Baekhyun says, and then grins to make sure that didn’t come off like an accusation.
"But Minseok hyung told me you’re always late to things? I--I mean--!"
"Not to the things I care about," Baekhyun says softly, ducking his head and toeing at the line of frayed tape holding the floor panels in place.
"Well, in that case, let’s get started?"
Jongin keeps phrasing everything like a question, like he’s an impressionable young kid and unsure about everything and he trusts Baekhyun to hold all the answers. Baekhyun could get used to this.
"Let’s roll!"
"Ok, why don’t we warm up at the barre?" Jongin points to the hand railing attached to the mirror paneling along the wall. Baekhyun follows his gesture to see Blonde Kid lounging against the barre at the third panel, skinny arms folded across his chest and a vapid smirk plastered to his lips.
"Is your…friend gonna be joining us?" Baekhyun asks pointedly, eyebrows raised.
"Sehun," Jongin says, jerking his head to the open doorway.
"But I wanted to watch," Sehun whines in a gravelly voice. Jongin just gives him a tight grin and stretches out his arms.
Sehun crosses the floor to meet him in three long strides, leaning in for a half hug. Sehun snuggles his head onto Jongin’s shoulder, but Jongin pinches his side and he jumps back with a yelp. They bump fists, some stupid hand jive that ends in a chest pound, and finally, finally Sehun exits with a lame, "See ya, Bro!"
(Baekhyun looks away for the duration of this exchange, only sneaking quick glances in the mirror, because their sap is purely juvenile. But not because he’s jealous of their cheese, not at all.)
Jongin turns on some flowy piano music. Baekhyun yawns and contemplates suggesting a cuddly nap on the pile of yoga mats stacked in the corner. Then Jongin lifts his leg impossibly high, lowers it onto the barre, and folds his body in half with one swooping stretch.
Baekhyun just stares, clutching the wooden railing in his sweaty grip, because if Jongin’s expecting him to follow along here he’s seriously overestimating the percentage of spandex in Baekhyun’s DNA (like, does the kid put rubber bands in his breakfast smoothies?)
Jongin finishes stretching on the right side and switches legs. He glances over his shoulder to find Baekhyun standing stock still and statuesque, mouth hanging open.
"Come on, aren’t you gonna warm up?" Jongin rubs his chin, flexing his ankle. "Is the music too fast or something?"
"How? Leg? What? Help?" Baekhyun gasps, pointing at Jongin’s well toned thighs and then at the ceiling he practically just speared with his pointed toes.
"Oh," Jongin says. "You really don’t know know what you’re doing?"
Understatement of the day, kid. "Nope."
"Well how do you usually warm up?"
"For soccer? I give my best friend an ass massage with my toes." Jongdae did let him try that once, when he had really tight rotators from training for that 10k. Baekhyun was happy to oblige because every part of him is talented, including his toes.
"...Um."
Oh god, is Jongin blushing? Is that a good thing? Did he just scandalize the kid?
"So, uh, how do dancers usually warm up?" Baekhyun coughs, making sure to politely cover his mouth with his elbow.
"Yeah, let’s just go from there, that’s a good place to start, I think." Jongin restarts the music and leads Baekhyun through some basic knee bends and ankle rolls and toe touches. By the time Jongin declares him properly defrosted, like a chicken breast or something, Baekhyun feels like a dishrag wrung out and they’re only twenty minutes into the lesson.
"What do you want to work on next?" Jongin asks. He looks like he just took a stroll on the quad, not exhausted at all.
"I want to move," Baekhyun says, "like a boss." Jongin nods, considering. "But not like a yakuza boss, more like "Miss Independent"?"
Jongin bursts out laughing. It catches Baekhyun off guard, because 1) he wasn’t expecting shy little sexy munchkin Jongin to have a cackly laugh, and 2) Baekhyun usually gets punched for his jokes.
Baekhyun quickly recovers from shock with his charmingest smile. He kinda likes this, being appreciated so freely. It’s inspiring, and he can feel an onslaught of cheesy puns rising in his bloodstream.
"Ok," Jongin says, and he’s still smiling and Baekhyun just wants to pinch his squishy cheeks and mess up his hair. "Still not exactly sure what you mean, but we can work on that."
******
"How was study hall?"
"You mean dance tutoring?" Baekhyun kicks off his shoes and flops into the nearest folding chair, propping his feet in Jongdae’s lap.
"Yeah whatever," Jongdae grunts. "Get your sweaty sock feet off me unless you want to get stabbed." He brandishes a straight pin and Baekhyun snatches his feet back under the table.
"Fun! We had fun." Baekhyun is vaguely aware that he is grinning like Yixing in a vintage guitar store, but he really doesn’t care because Jongin. He just had a private lesson with Jongin and it was fun and he gets to do it all over again next Tuesday.
"We?" Yixing sits up in his chair, stifling a yawn. "How many of you are there, exactly?"
"Just me and Jongin," Baekhyun says, biting into a granola bar. "Except...Sehun was there, judging my mere existence, and then he didn’t want to leave."
"Ah, the blonde kid?" Yixing asks, squinting at his nails. "Jongin’s possessive guardian angel?"
"More like scary-ass jealous boyfriend!" Baekhyun huffs, accidentally spewing honey oats onto the table. Jongdae shoots him a glare promising all kinds of pin stabbing if he does it again, and scoots his stack of calico fat quarters down to the end.
"Oh no, they’re not dating," Yixing says with a blink.
"What?" Baekhyun’s frown is skeptical, but he sits up in interest. "How do you know that kind of top secret information?"
"It’s kind of common knowledge around the arts building, but also Minseok told me." Yixing reaches for his bottle of coke, scribbling something into his notebook with the other hand.
"So when are you going to make a move?" Luhan is straddling the seat across from Baekhyun, his elbows propped on the chair back.
"All we do is move," Baekhyun whines, sliding his chin onto Yixing’s shoulder. "Can you shut up now, I’m tired."
He’s still reeling and giddy from the earth shifting experience of sharing a studio with Kim Hot Ass Jongin, and this new information about his single status is a little too much to process. Baekhyun needs time to think, to plot.
"Time is kicking, brat." Luhan raps his knuckles on the table, pointing to the green numbers of the clock on his phone display. "Do I need to call up Minseokkie and have a chat with him about--"
"I will MURDER you!" Baekhyun knocks over his chair and also a box of three hundred straight pins as he launches himself across the table at Luhan like a speeding human bullet of desperation and daring dreams. "Give me that--! Uh--!"
******
After tying Luhan to a chair and exiling his phone to Jongdae’s locker, Baekhyun is able to brainstorm a detailed plan of action outlining exactly how to get into Jongin’s dancer pants. (Code name: Operation Touching Paradise (OTP).)
First item on the directive, the only one they unanimously agreed on, is The Food Method. The way to a guy’s heart is through his stomach, yada yada--that always works on teenage guys, it’s fool proof, right?
So Baekhyun wakes up at the crack of 9:00 on Tuesday, three full hours before he has to leave for class. He walks to the fancy candy shop downtown, the one that sells handmade chocolates in big heart shaped boxes with holographic gold seals. You know, the really classy stuff.
Baekhyun marches right in and picks out the biggest, pinkest, holograph-iest box, and promptly has an existential crisis at the register. Heart shaped truffles and rose blossom rock candy--what was he thinking? He can’t give that to Jongin like a schoolgirl with an embarrassing crush on Valentine’s Day. No, despite his tender age, Jongin is a real man and deserves something manly.
It’s a tough call, but Baekhyun works his quick thinking magic and grabs the first gift wrapped thing next to the register--a cellophane bag of star shaped marshmallows.
Despite their manly rose water scent and psychedelic star power, Jongin does not look impressed when Baekhyun hands them over at the start of their next lesson.
"I’m on a diet," Jongin says with a blank look, like this is news Baekhyun should’ve somehow known. "I can’t eat carbs."
"Marshmallows have carbs?" The sound of Baekhyun’s heart breaking, rather reminiscent of shattering glass, is drowned out by the crinkle of cellophane as Jongin shoves his gift back into his hands. "I thought they were, like, flavored air!"
"Let’s get to work," Jongin says, turning away to fiddle with the stereo. "We need to do turn drills."
******
"How is dance tutoring going?" Yixing is smiling, fingering the frets of his guitar without actually strumming as he scribble chords in his notebook. Baekhyun tries to smile back, but his mouth is too full of marshmallows and the taste of fail.
"One! Grecian urn!" Luhan hops up on the counter, tossing a pouf of tulle over his shoulder like a toga. "Two! Gre--" He flails, breaking off in a yowl of pain when Jongdae stabs him with a pin.
"Apparently marshmallows are a carb?" Baekhyun swallows the last marshmallow without chewing and and plops down next to Yixing.
"I take it The Food Method did not go over as planned?" Jongdae drums his fingers against a bolt of buckram, ignoring Luhan who is still floundering on the floor in a tangle of pink netting.
Baekhyun knocks his head against the table in answer, and Yixing leans over to pat his cheek.
"Don’t lose heart, Baekhyunnie! He can’t resist temptation forever. You just have to find his achilles’ heel, the one taste that makes his heart sing."
"That would be the taste of my lips, obviously," Baekhyun moans into the table. "He just doesn’t know it yet."
"Well, hang tight, bro," Yixing says over the sound of Luhan and Jongdae gagging in harmony. "You’ll figure out something."
******
It’s already midterms before Baekhyun gets his next stroke of genius. He’s the third to hand in his paper at his Econ exam on Tuesday, so Baekhyun heads to the arts building early. He finds Jongin in the hall half hidden behind the door of his locker, gaze glued to something on the inside surface.
Baekhyun clears his throat and waits for Jongin to emerge, but the dance tutor keeps staring, wetting his lips with hungry swipes of his tongue. Baekhyun is getting itchy with impatience, watching Jongin glare at the door with an oddly adorable mixture of lust and adoration in his eyes.
Also, Baekhyun is getting really curious. Is Jongin staring at a collage of chocolate abs ripped from Vogue? Or maybe he’s practicing identifying all nine members of SNSD by their legs alone, or what if he…oh.
"Well hello there," Baekhyun drawls, stretching onto tiptoe to peer over the top edge of the door. "And what are you drooling over this fine Tuesday?"
"Huh? What? I’m not looking--! I mean, I don’t like golden skin and--! I--nothing, Hyung!" Jongin ducks around the door and slams it shut with his shoulder. It doesn’t close all the way, a crumpled T-shirt caught in the gap, but Jongin plasters himself against the frame and crosses his arms defiantly across his heaving chest.
"Nothing," he insists with a wobbly smile, but Baekhyun can feel Jongin’s resolve crumble like the corner of Jongdae’s burnt pop tarts as he approaches.
"Ok," Baekhyun says, "never mind then. Hey, do you have any extra bandaids? I think I’m getting a blister from these new boots and--"
"Sure thing, Hyung!" Jongin’s face lights up at the distraction and he whirls around, banging open the door as he plunges an arm into the dirty laundry casserole overflowing from his locker, presumably in search of a bandaid.
Baekhyun is initially disappointed to see that his own beautiful face isn’t glued to Jongin’s locker, but he recovers with a burst of relief upon realizing there aren’t any boobies he’ll have to compete with, either.
The entire inside surface is covered in delivery ads for chicken: extra spicy, well being-baked with herbs and lemon yogurt, soy sauce and ginger flavor, and golden fried hot wings. There must be dozens of ads, layered like fish scales with the tear off coupons at the bottoms carefully taped around for ease of access. It’s like a pornographic shrine to deep fried poultry.
Ouch, ok. Baekhyun feels a little intimidated, but at least Jongin’s not hoarding pinups of SNSD. That might be a little harder to compete with. But chicken...chicken he can work to his advantage.
"Uh, Jongin?" Baekhyun calls, dodging a pair of tights and an extra dance belt as Jongin weeds through his cubby. "If you can’t find one, it’s ok, I can live without a bandaid."
"Oh, are you sure?" Jongin pulls his head out of the clothing cave. "Maybe Sooyoung noona has one if you really--oh shit," he breaks off, noticing that Baekhyun is wiggling jazz fingers in front of his door of carefully protected secrets.
"Jongin, are you hungry?" Baekhyun curbs the impulse to reach up and feel Jongin’s forehead beneath his floppy bangs; he’s looking a little glassy eyed and feverish underneath his cap.
"Yessss," Jongin hisses, ducking his chin into the unbuttoned collar of his polo.
"Hey, hey look at me," Baekhyun soothes, tapping a gentle finger to the underside of his chin. "It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but…"
"Ok." Jongin looks up with searching eyes, biting down on his lip before continuing. "I haven’t had chicken in…" he takes a deep breath, sliding a finger down the outline of a glossy print drumstick, "three weeks, six days, and four hours, I--" He starts to swoon, and Baekhyun catches him by the shoulders before he careens into the wall.
"Hey, don’t torture yourself dude. You gotta live a little." Jongin nods weakly, meeting Baekhyun’s gaze. "When’s the last time you let loose, got boozed and enjoyed yourself?"
"Well," Jongin bites his lip again, stuffing his wardrobe back into his locker.
"Come on, let’s get out of here." Baekhyun shoves the last pair of sweats and a dusty scarf in the cubby and tugs on Jongin’s wrist.
"What about--tutoring?" Jongin gasps as Baekhyun drags him towards the nearest exit. He points to the empty studio reserved for their lesson as they pass.
"That’s not important right now," Baekhyun says, dropping his wrist to give Jongin the chance to bail if he really wants to. "Let’s go take care of your primal urges, and we can worry about the Macarena later."
So that’s how they end up in the nearest restaurant on Tuesday afternoon, knees bumping under a low table as they clink bottles together. Jongin has never looked more beautiful than under the flicker of the fluorescents at BHC, Baekhyun thinks as he takes a swig from his coke bottle. He sighs, admiring the swoop of Jongin’s jawline as he tears into a drumstick with his shiny white movie star teeth.
And maybe it’s cliche, the way Baekhyun’s heart squeezes and expands to twice it’s size at the sight of Jongin’s happy, sated smile. Jongin looks almost tipsy with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, smiling even with his mouth full. He must be drunk on the salty grease and fragrant steam, all the endorphins rushing his deprived system.
Baekhyun’s chest feels full, more tingly than he can blame on his carbonated soft drink, and maybe, just maybe, he thinks, his feelings for Jongin have grown past a crush into something like chickenlove. Which, as Jongin declares as he waves a piece of extra crispy in each hand, is the most powerful love of all.
******
The next month passes in a blur of homework and dance class, and even a few more chicken dates. Ever since the locker confessional, Baekhyun and Jongin have been texting almost every day. And not just about which studio and what time they should meet, they talk about all kinds of things, including but not limited to Jongin’s pet--ahem--baby dogs, Buzzfeed quizzes, and ice cream, all complemented by Baekhyun’s impeccable sense of humor.
They still meet every Tuesday for tutoring of course, and to Baekhyun’s delight but not really surprise, he is progressing excellently. His Intro to Dance teacher even tells him so in front of the class that Friday. The semester is winding down, the days stretching closer and closer to finals. Baekhyun is glad that he won’t have to suffer through group dance class any longer, but he will really, really miss bumming around the studio with Jongin.
Things have definitely warmed up between them--dare he say heated?--but Baekhyun has yet to make a definitive move to settle Operation Touching Paradise once and for all. And if there’s one principle Byun Baekhyun sticks to, it’s to finish what he’s started.
The week before finals Baekhyun comes into the studio a bit early, hoping to talk to Jongin before they start warm ups. Instead of Jongin lounging in front of the stereo, however, Baekhyun saunters in to find Sehun slouched against the barre, arms folded across his purple hoodie.
"Um, hi?" Baekhyun waves from the doorway, not sure if he should take off his shoes and start stretching, or if tutoring is canceled, or if he got the wrong studio, or--
"What are your intentions towards my bff?" Sehun says, advancing across the floor with a prowling gate. He leans forward until he’s looming over Baekhyun and his in-need-of-a-trim bangs fall forward in curtains from his temples.
"Excuse me?" Baekhyun stutters. He stands his ground, because he is the upperclassman in the room after all, but he kind of wants to hightail it back to the lobby to wait for Jongin.
"Just answer the question." Sehun frames his jaw with his palm and taps a long finger against his brow.
"Nothing untoward, I can assure you!" Baekhyun yelps, raising both his hands in defense. "I like him, he likes me, and sometimes we eat chicken."
"That’s it?" Sehun’s mouth is hanging open in disbelief, and Baekhyun kind of wishes he would close it.
"Yup," he says, nodding quickly, "unless, of course, Jongin wanted something more, in which case…" Baekhyun waves his hands in a rolling motion, and Sehun frowns, dropping his hands to his hips.
"I don’t follow your meaning."
"Just…" Baekhyun sighs, rolling his shoulders forward in a demi port de bras. "Look, I care about Jongin, ok? I mean, I practically owe him the salvation of my GPA and--"
"That’s what I was afraid of." Sehun’s scowl deepens as he takes a step closer. "If you’re just using Jongin for a grade, or a lay, or a--"
"Absolutely not!" Baekhyun stamps his foot. The vibrations of the sprung floor tingle all the way up to his knee. "I swear on my sacred GPA I won’t do anything to--to make Jongin sad, or unhappy, and I will always be his friend first and foremost for as long as he wants!"
Sehun stares down at him for a moment as Baekhyun pants, then rearranges his face into a vague expression, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips.
"Cool," Sehun says, "that’s all I needed to know. See you around." He shoves his hands in his jean pockets and shuffles to the door. Baekhyun swivels to stare after him, starting when Jongin brushes past him into the studio.
"Uh, hi, sorry I’m late," Jongin says, shaking his head like a dog til his tousled hair falls into his eyes. "Did you wait long?"
"Not really." Baekhyun shrugs. "Hey, are you ok?" Jongin’s nose is red and flaky with dry skin around his nostrils, and his eyes look swollen in their sockets.
"Uh huh," Jongin nods through a wide yawn, "I’m fi--ahCHOO!" The force of his sneeze knocks him to his knees and Baekhyun rushes over to catch him by the shoulders and slip the strap of his heavy bag from his neck.
"You don’t look so good! Why aren’t you at home in bed?"
"I just came from bed," Jongin sniffles. "I overslept because...NyQuil...what do they put it that stuff, man I--" He shakes his head again, as if his ears are all stuffed up with wool he can’t shake loose.
"Maybe we should get you back there, before you collapse under a pile of Celine Dion remixes. The cleaning lady wouldn’t find you til Monday!"
"No, stupid." Jongin lifts a weak fist and bumps the edge of Baekhyun’s shoulder. "She wouldn’t have to find me, ‘cause you’d be here to dig me out, right?"
"Oh," Baekhyun says, and gets distracted by the lazy smile Jongin’s beaming up at him. Jongin keeps fluttering his lashes, like he’s shy but preening under Baekhyun’s attention, and he fully trusts Baekhyun to rescue him from CDpocalypses. Baekhyun could get used to this.
"Hyung," Jongin croaks, but it’s a cute croak that has Baekhyun’s heart fluttering like Jongin’s lashes. "Are we gonna….dance now? Or what?"
"Oh, right, um." Baekhyun clears his throat, helping Jongin to his feet. "Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll just run through the choreo, if you’re sure you’re feeling up to it?"
"I’m fine," Jongin grins, and then sneezes into his elbow. "I like watching you dance, just consider it fried chicken soup for my soul." His wink has more of a smolder in it than drugged up sick people should be allowed to have, and Baekhyun tries not to shiver as he strips off his jacket and jogs to the stereo to start the music.
Baekhyun dances the best he’s ever Macarena’d, maybe even better than that Chanyeol guy in the Youtube tutorial Jongin used to coach him. With the heat of Jongin’s gaze on him as the music washes over his nerves, Bakehyun lets go and lets his body take over. He focuses his attention on the tiny details of his performance, the flick of his wrists, the curl of his fingers, the sway of his hips as he palms down his body.
Baekhyun is on fire and he’s loving it, the way his limbs flow exactly where he wants them to, and the way his heartbeat matches the rhythm of the bass. He’s panting when the music stops but he wants to keep going, he could keep dancing forever as long as he has Jongin’s sharp gaze fully enraptured by his fluid boss moves.
"Hey, how was that? Pretty good, huh? Did you see--"
Baekhyun breaks off, interrupted by a soft snore as Jongin’s head slides down the mirror to wilt into his chest.
******
Baekhyun spends the rest of the week pwning his Econ review, and Jongin is busy being sick, so there’s no time for their usual chicken date on Friday. Baekhyun heads over to Yixing’s instead for a quick break with some Smash Bros and omelettes.
"Are you making the cookies this weekend?" Yixing asks, stirring salt into the beaten eggs in his mixing bowl.
"Yeah." Baekhyun yawns, sitting up on the sofa. "Or maybe on Tuesday, I dunno. Why?"
"Well, they’re for Jongin, right?"
"Yes." Baekhyun hugs a pillow to his famished stomach and wishes Yixing would hurry up with dinner.
"He’s going home on Monday, you know. The dance kids finish finals early."
"Oh no!" Baekhyun ditches the pillow, scrambling for Yixing’s notebook and a pen. "Baking is not the problem but--Hyung, you gotta help me! I haven’t finished the lyrics to my rap confession!"
"Oh gee," Luhan sighs, rolling over on his side in front of the TV. "I thought we collectively decided that was a horrible idea and should be burned at the stake."
"You decided that," Baekhyun sniffs, "but I still like my plan. A rap is unique and progressive, yet still maintains romantic elements of poetic aesthetic." Or at least that’s what he read on that Chanyeol dude’s blog.
"Suit yourself," Yixing shrugs, pouring the eggs into the crackle of hot grease in the pan. Baekhyun doesn’t answer, already immersed in his confessional endeavor.
******
"You know, there are other things that rhyme with ‘swagger’ besides ‘Mick Jagger’," Jongdae says with a judging smirk. He tosses the sixth draft of Baekhyun’s lyrics on a pile of pompoms.
"Such as?" Baekhyun folds his arms and juts out his chin, all gangstah like.
"Stagger, nagger, kegger?" Luhan counts off the options on his fingers. "Uh, beggar? Flicker?"
"Uh huh." Now it’s Baekhyun’s turn to wither the silk crepe in Jongdae’s hands with a judging glare, but Jongdae just shrugs.
"Do whatever you want man, but my advice is still ditch the rap and just talk to him. And definitely put a ribbon or a bow or something on that bakery box, that plain white exterior is hella basic!" Jongdae drops the bodice he’s embroidering to root through his box of trimming odds and ends.
"How do you even have this many scraps?" Baekhyun huffs, ducking an insert of camo patterned lace that lands over Luhan’s head like a wedding veil.
"One can never have too many craft supplies," Jongdae says, twirling a tassel on his finger. "If the zombie apocalypse goes down I’ll strangle those mother fockers with grossgrain and string them up with macrame."
"That does sound terrifying," Baekhyun says weakly as Jongdae trusses up Jongin’s thank you/confession/you rock! gift in a yard of red ribbon.
"Focus!" Luhan snaps his fingers in front of Baekhyun’s addled stare. "Don’t think about ambulant rotting flesh right now, think about love!"
"Yes," Yixing nods sagely, "it’s the most powerful thing in the world."
"Ok," Baekhyun giggles in a fit of nerves. He clutches the box to his chest and fluffs the ribbon bow. "Wish me luck, bros."
"Go get ‘em, Tiger!" Luhan slaps his ass and shoves him out the door.
******
"Thanks for meeting me," Baekhyun says when Jongin pushes through the studio door. He’s standing in front of the mirror, next to the stereo. "I know you must be busy since you’re moving home tomorrow."
"Yeah," Jongin shrugs. "But it’s ok, I’m done packing and stuff." He slips out of his shoes and crosses the room to lean against the mirror beside Baekhyun, hands in the pockets of his ratty sweats.
"That’s...good," Baekhyun nods. "I brought you something." He tries not to blush as he hands the box over, gritting his teeth when he catches sight of his ugly scrawl across the lid. He should’ve taken Jongdae’s advice and just stuck with the ribbon.
"What’s this?" Jongin opens the package, sliding the ribbon off the corners before he flips back the lid. His eyes go wide at the mound of coconut macaroons nestled inside, each tasseled top lightly browned to golden perfection. "Hyung," he says, "they’re so beautiful, I--"
"It’s ok," Baekhyun tells him, laughing softly at the quiet whimper that falls from Jongin’s lips. "Go ahead, try one!" He picks the biggest one out of the box and holds it up for Jongin to taste.
"But I--!"
Baekhyun puts up a hand to silence him and shoves the macaroon up to Jongin’s lips. "They are sugar free and made out of egg whites. No carbs, no excuses."
Jongin grabs the cookie and stuffs it in his face. "I’m gonna miss this," he sighs, still chewing on the first macaroon as he reaches for another one.
"What, me tempting you with food when we should be practicing?" Baekhyun teases, leaning his shoulder into the mirror.
"Yeah, but I mean all of it." Jongin swallows with a sniffle and takes three more cookies into his hand. "Hanging out, waking up to mispelled texts of your lame jokes on my phone, all of it." He waves his fist and crumbs of toasted coconut sprinkle like fairy dust across the floor space between them. Baekhyun starts to close the distance, sliding his right foot between Jongin’s wide stance.
"My jokes are not lame," Baekhyun protests, huffing in pretended offense. "You laugh every time!"
"Hehe!" Jongin’s giggle bubbles between his plush lips and it’s all Baekhyun can do to keep from leaning in to claim them, but he promised Sehun he wouldn’t do anything without Jongin’s permission. "I guess I do, yeah." Jongin looks down, giving Baekhyun a perfect view of the way his long lashes splay over the curve of his cheek. "So...we can still hang out and stuff, right? I mean after your final, assuming you pass it and all."
"You idiot," Baekhyun scoffs, and kicks the instep of Jongin’s dance sneaker with his toes. "Of course I’m passing, I do have the best tutor, after all." Jongin’s gaze darts up, his lips parting around a flick of his tongue, and Baekhyun tries not to groan at how perfect he looks, how perfectly kissable and--
"Really?" Jongin asks. "You think I’m a good tutor?"
"Not a good tutor," Baekhyun corrects, "I said the best. Are you even listening to me when I’m talking to you?"
"Yeah," Jongin says, but it’s hard to believe him when his voice comes out all breathy and distracted, his gaze caught on Baekhyun’s chin or maybe down by his lips.
"And of course we can still hang out! I mean, if you want too," Baekhyun falters, his fingers tangling in the red ribbon. The ends are still caught in the perky bow Jongdae tied around the box.
"Just as friends?" Jongin aks, and Baekhyun frowns, because is Jongin asking what he thinks he’s asking?
"Well, no offense, but once I ace my final I don’t think I’ll need your tutoring services," Baekhyun smirks. He clears his throat, and Jongin raises his head, his neck straightening like a turtle’s out if its shell. "Friends would be nice, just friends is good but--" Baekhyun winces, screwing up all the courage in his tiger bro BAMF soul, and prays to Jongdae’s voodoo mannequin that this comes out right.
"How would you feel if we...if we, you know, more than…" Baekhyun’s lips are heavy and numb, like he’s trying to speak underwater. Baekhyun is drowning in Jongin’s eyes, hundreds of gallons of hypothetical cold sea water washing through his lungs and out through his eardrums. He gasps in a breath, dropping his gaze to fall on Jongin’s pink lips, and oh god was that a mistake or what, because Baekhyun can’t think anymore, not with Jongin’s soft lips working around the peek of his tongue and--
"Hyung," Jongin gurgles, and Baekhyun realizes with a hot flash of embarrassment that Jongin’s trying not to laugh but mostly failing. "Hyung, if you want to kiss me, just go ahead already!"
"Ok," Baekhyun says, and presses Jongin into the mirror as their mouths meet. Baekhyun gasps as Jongin’s tongue probes the seam of his mouth for entrance, because fuck--this is hotter than anything he’s imagined with Jongin. It’s also a lot sweeter, the warm taste of golden brown coconut coating his tongue as he palms the golden brown expanse of smooth skin under Jongin’s sweater.
"Mm," Jongin groans as Baekhyun finally sinks his fingers into the ass he’s been drooling over since August. "Thanks, Hyung. Finally!" Jongin’s giggle is breathless and Baekhyun is panting for air. "I’ve been waiting for that for awhile now."
"You little brat!" Baekhyun tweaks Jongin’s nose, then both of his cheeks, biting down on his lip to wipe the smirk off his face. It doesn’t work though. Jongin’s smug smile just widens into a shameless grin when Baekhyun comes up for air again. "You can’t have been waiting as long as I have, though."
Jongin yelps when Baekhyun pinches his hip, and yes, Baekhyun still thinks Jongin has the sweetest ass on campus. But now he’s more interested in the shy smile Jongin’s beaming at him, beaming at him, Byun Baekhyun, King of World. And Baekhyun has never felt happier than when Jongin hooks an ankle around his legs and pulls him into a tight embrace. He leans down to rest his forehead against Baekhyun’s with a soft sigh, and kisses him again.
From: ANONYMOUS until December 30, 2014
Title: Hey, Macaroona
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Baekhyun/Kai, side!Luhan/Chen
Length: 8,970 words
Summary: Baekhyun has two problems this semester: 1) Hot Kid is illegally hot; 2) the Macarena is actually kinda hard.
Warnings: language, lame humor
Notes: Enjoy?
At the start of fall semester of junior year (fuck yeah, upper classmen!) Baekhyun spots the hottest piece of ass he’s seen since Yixing accidentally lit Luhan’s boxers on fire trying to get gochujang stains out of them back in May. Yeah, campus was pretty dead over the summer, but now things are hopping.
Dr. Jung should probably keep his Intro to Interpretive Dance kids from literally hopping in the fountain, but Baekhyun’s not complaining so long as he’s free to admire pert nipples through soaked shirts on his way to class.
Baekhyun’s not on the quad when this life shattering moment happens, though. He’s in the library with Jongdae, so he unfortunately can’t shout appreciative obscenities after the dude.
Oh well, Jongdae would’ve punched him for that anyway. Jongdae does not approve of catcalling for some reason, so Baekhyun just watches the dude slouch by in tattered sweats and an almost see through tank top, a silent scream of adoration dying unreleased from his vocal chords.
"That’s a little dramatic," Yixing drawls a few hours later when Baekhyun attempts to verbalize his volcano of feelings. "Why didn’t you just whisper hello?"
Baekhyun sighs and flicks the rim of Yixing’s coffee mug. Why are his friends so dense? "Because we were in a library." You can’t hit on really hot people in the library, the stuffy ambience kind of ruins the effect.
Yixing rolls his eyes and hugs his pillow tighter to his chest. "So what’s his name?"
"That’s the problem, I don’t know!" Baekhyun glares. Way to rub it in, Yixing. "If I knew I could’ve facebook stalked him back to sixth grade by now and drooled all over the pics from his adorably awkward phase."
"Sixth grade?" Yixing lets out a soft whistle and scratches his earlobe. "So he’s a youngin’, eh?"
"Either a freshie or a transfer, anyway." Jongdae sighs, then scratches out the sketch he’s been working on since lunch. "Ugh, I can’t think of anything today!"
"Don’t try to force it." Luhan sifts his fingers into Jongdae’s hair. "Why don’t you take a walk, find some fresh air and inspiration?"
"Ok," Jongdae mutters, turning to bury his face in Luhan’s shirt. "But only if you come with me."
"Be careful!" Baekhyun grunts as Luhan discreetly shoves the sketchpad under the microwave while Jongdae’s still distracted by the hand stroking his hair. "I took a walk and came home with too much inspiration."
"Yeah, sure," Yixing snickers, "if by inspiration you mean hard-on." Luhan rolls his eyes and pulls Jongdae up by his shirt collar.
"Imma take a nap, Baek. You can leave now." Yixing waves a flourishy hand towards the door and disappears into his room. Baekhyun groans and bangs his forehead on the kitchen table one last time while it’s still available, very much in need of its brain numbing solace. His friends are no help at all.
"Come on, Baekhyun," Luhan calls from the doorway as he shoves flipflops onto Jongdae’s feet. "We’ll walk you to the student center. Maybe you’ll run into your inspiration again over there!"
******
Baekhyun, however, does not run into him at the student center, or at the gym, or even in the cafeteria. Baekhyun hasn’t set foot in the cafeteria since the beginning of sophomore year when Dominoes finally started delivering to campus, but as Luhan kindly points out, "what better place to stalk a freshie than the cafeteria?"
After two unfruitful weeks of staking out a strategic corner of the dining hall and scanning the sidewalks whenever he steps outside, Baekhyun has come to the conclusion that Hot Kid is either a ninja, or has no life. (He’s still refusing to confront Luhan’s nonsensical notion that it was all an illusion brought on by book fumes).
It’s halfway to midterms and Baekhyun’s reaching his breaking point of subsisting entirely on Krispy Kremes and cup noodles (the Byun family version of wasting away with a broken heart) when Baekhyun hits the jackpot.
He’s back at the library (well, stationed outside the library, waiting for Yixing to bring him coffee) when Red Hot Target slinks by with rolling hips and an enourmous yawn. A tall blonde kid is chasing him across the quad, yelling "Kim! Jong! In!"
Before Baekhyun can whip out a snazzy pickup line and the half melted toblerone bar jammed in his back pocket as a sacrificial offering to Hot Kid’s ass, said idol is tackled to the grass. The loud blonde guy sits heavily on his chest at the same moment Yixing emerges from the library bearing Elixir of Life.
"Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?" Yixing scolds with a hum, wrapping him in a clingy backhug. He hands Baekhyun a frappuccino over his shoulder and starts to shove him towards the student center.
"But--! But that was--!" Baekhyun splutters, struggling against Yixing’s viselike grip.
"Really now, is homoerotic PDA so shocking? You live with Jongdae," Yixing purrs in his ear, digging his fingers into Baekhyun’s waist.
"Get off me!" Baekyun frees himself by slamming his boot heel into Yixing’s sneaker, but it’s too late. The cuddlepuddle heap of hot ass is nowhere in sight. "That was--!"
"Oh!" Yixing’s eyes widen in sudden comprehension. "Was that--??"
"Yes." Baekhyun sighs, shoulders slumping as it sinks in that he just lost another chance to make human contact with his beautiful alien. Hot Kid must be part alien, right? ‘Cause no human could look so amazeballs in the hobo clothes he wanders around in. "Yixing?"
"Yeah?"
"Forget the espresso, I need a double shot of vodka."
******
Baekhyun comes to the next morning with a post-it stuck to his forehead. He peels it off and it says: check you phone.
Baekhyun squints at the note, then squints at his phone. There’s a string of new messages from Yixing:
Kim jongin
Freshie dance major
If u want his # n class sched we can negotiate a price $$
The last message is a pic of Hot Kid snapped mid-pirouette, thick dark hair a whirlwind around his ears, pink tongue peeking through plush lips to accentuate a razor blade jawline. The sinewy outlines of his arms and torso glisten with sweat, and suddenly hunger pangs in Baekhyun’s gut twist into something more than breakfast can satisfy.
Dance major, huh. That should’ve been a warning signal right there, but Baekhyun’s brain is still too hazy with sleep and adoration to think objectively. He pulls on jeans and races to the registrar’s office to sign up for a dance course before he can chicken out and change his mind.
It’s pretty much a win-win situation, Baekhyun thinks as he scrawls his name on the registration form and hands over his credit card. He has plenty of time in his schedule, and he could use another easy A class this semester. How hard can Intro to Dance be?
******
"How was your first dance class?" Jongdae is making a Marie Antoinette inspired voodoo doll out of his dressmaker’s form, leftover bits of gold fringe and chantilly lace stabbed into place with copious amounts of straight pins.
"Um," Baekhyun says, and contemplates swallowing a handful of the pins. Did he say dance was easy? How about NO.
"Ok, so is he speechless with joy and amazement, or is this what despair looks like?" Luhan waves a hand Baekhyun’s face and pokes at his cheeks with an ostrich plume.
"I think I pulled my clavicle muscle," Baekhyun murmurs into a skein of silk floss hand dyed the color of snot, "except I don’t even know where that is."
Yixing snorts, looking up from his game of guitar pick tiddly winks. "What did you learn today? "Ring-Around-the-Rosies" with aerial layouts?"
Baekhyun throws a badly aimed retractable tape measure at his head. Yixing ducks and it catches on a frill of swamp-thing lace in Jongdae’s fist.
"We’re learning the Macarena. But since I added late and missed the first five sessions, I have no idea what’s going on. I’m so lost, I might as well be in Timbuktu." Timbuktu is far, far away from Korea, right? Baekhyun’s clavicle muscle hurts so much he’s not even sure anymore.
"Why did you sign up for this class again?" Luhan pops a grape in his mouth and wipes his fingers on Yixing’s shirt.
"Oh, that reminds! Reason #2 my life sucks ass, but not literally," Baekhyun sighs, flattening an empty ribbon spool between his palms, "Hot Kid wasn’t even there!"
"Oh, I see." Luhan yawns, stretching out his legs to hook his heels on Baekhyun’s chair rung. "This is about a boy. I was worried there for a minute you were doing something for the sake of art, and not in a pathetic attempt to get laid."
"Way to make hasty assumptions!" Baekhyun struggles to sit up on his folding chair, slightly offended.
"But amirite? Or amirite?" Luhan nudges Yixing, a smug little grin on his smug little face. "The last time you set foot in the arts building was to go after that choir dude Joonmyun."
"I thought for sure…I don’t get it!" Baekhyun wails, decidely ignoring Luhan. "Why wasn’t Hot Kid in Intro to Dance?"
"Of course Jongin isn’t in that class, it’s for non-majors." Yixing turns a page of his doodled on notes with a guitar pick.
"Jongin?" Luhan perks up at the name, tossing a grape in his palm. "As in, Minseokkie’s little shadow?"
"Yup," Yixing says, and steals the grape right out of his fingers.
"Shit," Baekhyun groans, knocking his head into a convenient pile of fabric scraps in front of him. He didn’t even think about separate classes for majors. When he was stalking--ahem--admiring Joonmyun hyung from a distance, he just joined the university choir open to vocal majors and soccer players alike. "So what do I do?"
"I suggest you drop the class." Jongdae snaps a pair of pinking shears open and shut. The blades grind menacingly as Baekhyun gulps. "You have...31 minutes to make it to the registrar’s before they close," Jongdae says, checking his phone. "Today’s the last add/drop day."
"Shit!"
******
Of course, it would be just his luck for the office to close half an hour early, ‘cause it’s Friday and a national holiday in Greenland, as the notice posted on the glass doors informs him. The school gets a little carried away with their diversity friendliness sometimes but this is the first time it has directly endangered Baekhyun’s well being, and he has no idea of how to proceed.
So Baekhyun just stands and stares at the dark windows of the empty office for what feels like an hour, the screams of his GPA being dragged into the dust echoing in his ears. When the maintenance dude raking leaves on lawn starts to give him funny sideglances, he resolves to embrace the inevitable and drags himself back to Yixing’s to cry.
"I’m going to fail this stupid class, and it’s going to ruin my stupid GPA, and then I’ll have no hope of a future." Baekhyun is perched on Yixing’s kitchen counter, kicking his heels into the dishwasher door with the despondent fury of a rain drenched kitten.
"Aw, it can’t be that bad." Yixing successfully flips an omelette on the first try and looks over to Baekhyun with a self-satisfied smile.
"But Hyung! If no one will hire me, who will consider dating Byun Baekhyun: Future Homeless Person?"
Baekhyun can hardly wrap his mind around it, much less try to explain it to Yixing, but this is his reality. In noble pursuit of a beautiful ass, he unwittingly condemned himself to a forever lonely future. How ironic can it get.
"You haven’t even asked him out yet, don’t write yourself off as a failure." Yixing reaches over to rub Baekhyun’s belly and turns off the stove.
"You haven’t even talked to him, period," Jongdae says from his sprawl on the sofa.
"Hehe, and sounds like you never will!" Luhan’s smug little laugh is cut off by a deft punch to the gut from Yixing, but Baekhyun can’t properly appreciate his pain, he’s so immersed in his own despair.
"Who knew the Macarena was such social suicide?" Baekhyun wails to the ceiling, ignoring the fork and plate Yixing tries to hand him.
"Um, like everyone?" Luhan mutters. He’s still glaring at an oblivious Yixing, rubbing his gut with the heel of his hand.
"But what do I do?" Baekhyun repeats for the billionth and a third time. Group troubleshooting of life crises isn’t usually this emotionally taxing, but then again, Baekhyun has never been the one with a problem before. That’s usually Jongdae’s territory.
"Why don’t you just ask him for tutoring?" Yixing gives up on the plate and silverware and just spoons a strip of omelette into Baekhyun’s mouth. Baekhyun almost chokes as the idea takes hold in his gut.
"You! Are a brilliant mastermind, Hyung!" Baekhyun launches himself off the counter, making a flying squirrel leap to attach himself to Yixing’s side. "Omfg, I could kiss you!"
"Whoa, there!" Yixing laughs. He shields his face with the greasy spatula to ward off Baekhyun’s whirlwind of affection. "How about just a hug and some free chocolate?"
******
Armed with nothing more than his superior sense of bootylicious direction and a burning conviction that Byun BAMFhyun x Hot Kid are #Meant2B, Baekhyun sets out to meet his destiny.
He finds Hot Kid in a darkened studio soon after, marking positions to music through his headphones.
He’s not doing the steps full out but there’s still electricity in the lines of his body, each movement charged with a magnetic pull that drags Baekhyun closer. Baekhyun can almost hear the music vibrating silently in the vinyl tiles beneath his toes. He gets a little choked up, watching his crush move like this, so free, uninhibited, alone--
Hot Kid whirls around in a parallel pirouette and freezes on the third rotation, eyes white against the shadows of his face in the dark as he jumps back a meter. He crashes into the dustmop propped in the the corner by the stereo and lands on his ass, a tower of precariously balanced CDs in cheap jewel cases cascading onto his head and lap.
"Oh hello there!" Baekhyun chirps with a wave, deciding now is the time to be as platonic and friendly as all get out, lest he scare the poor kid further with his charm. "I’m Baekhyun and I heard you can dance?"
Hot Kid just blinks at him owlishly from the dark recesses of the corner and then nods, once, twice.
Baekhyun gulps. Well, this is kinda awkward. And then he remembers the WWJD headband Jongdae cross stitched him for his birthday last year (What Would Joongmyun hyung Do?), and his conscience kicks in.
"Here! Let me help you!" Baekhyun crosses the floor and drops to his knees to start excavating Hot Kid from the avalanche of CDs.
"Thanks," Hot Kid says, and offers a flash of white teeth in a perfect, sappy smile that has Baekhyun’s toes curling from the adorable, and says, "I’m Jongin. Hi."
Oh. Oh yeah. Yixing did mention his name that one time. Maybe now is a good time for Baekhyun to start using his real name.
"Jongin," Baekhyun says tentatively, testing it out on his tongue. "Hi. So! You, me, dance?"
"Huh?"
"Eh, what I’m trying to say is….we need your help!" Baekhyun screws up his face and musters his best Bugs Bunny voice. Awkward, but it’s usually effective on drunk Yixing, so who knows, it might work now too.
Jongin just blinks again and tilts his head to one side.
"Are you trying to hit on me by quoting Space Jam, or are you legit looking for a dance tutor?"
Baekhyun sighs. Why does no one take him seriously when his pores are screaming "serious" to the frickin’ stratosphere?
Jongin shifts uncomfortably, and Baekhyun realizes he’s still half buried in ripped discs of Best of Duke Ellington and Vanilla Ice remixes, and that Baekhyun is looming over him while backed into a corner. Oops. Is this what Yixing meant when he wrote "sometimes, zealous can seem aggressive" on the advice column section of his birthday card?
"Uh, let me get the light!" Baekhyun scrambles to his feet and dashes to the door to fumble for the switch. By the time the third overhead fluorescent flickers to life, Jongin has sloughed off his plastic coffin and is standing in the middle of the floor again, still blinking.
"Ok, deep breath," Baekhyun narrates, as if he’s approaching a wild egret with a broken wing. "Let’s try that again! Hello there! I am business major Byun Baekhyun, Econ genius and idiot enough to sign up for Intro to Dance when the last time I danced was at my 5th birthday party. It’s nice to meet you! May I just say that the Macarena is currently kicking my ass, or at least the floor is, so can you teach me?"
"What?"
"I can’t Macarena," Baekhyun repeats, making sure to round his lips clearly around the vowels, just in case Jongin’s hard of hearing.
"Well, I can’t either," Jongin says with a slow blink..
"Please, please help me." Baekhyun whimpers, sliding shaking fingers into his hair. "I don’t know how to move...right. Like a fluid."
"You mean fluidly?" Jongin squints, like he just woke up from a nap and he’s having a hard time deciphering Baekhyun’s words. His squinty face is so, so cute, that Baekhyun has a hard time focusing.
"Ahah! Yes! That!" Baekhyun nods and smiles. "And you looked pretty fluid just a moment ago, like a river of molten chocolate lava!"
Jongin squints and rests his hands on his hips, the sinews of his bare arms shifting under golden brown skin as he moves. "Was that just a dig at my tan? ‘Cause if--!"
"No no no no no!" Baekhyun flails his arms like Luhan on International TVXQ Fans Unite Day. "Comparisons to chocolate mean I like you, highly respect and venerate you! You can’t win much harder that chocolate in my book." Baekhyun grins expectantly, feeling pretty good about having successfully talked his way out of this one. Smooth, Byun. You da man.
"Ok," Jongin nods. "I agree with you on the chocolate part, anyway. But why don’t I hook you up with a sunbae? I can give you Minseok hyung’s number, ‘cause I’ve never taught before. I’m just a freshman."
"Yeah, I know," Baekhyun smirks, "you’re inexperienced so you better give me a discount."
"You actually wanna pay me?" Jongin is still squinting, even though the lights are fully on now.
"Uh, I can pay you in fudgesicles?" Baekhyun offers, because he’s always been good at thinking on his feet.
"Deal!" Jongin’s sweaty palm encases Baekhyun’s hand, before Baekhyun even has the chance to internally scream in victory. Jongin’s sweaty palm is gross, but since it’s Jongin’s sweat, Baekhyun guesses he can make allowances.
"Deal!"
******
They agree to text out the details, and set their first session for next Tuesday.
Baekhyun doesn’t own any dance clothes, and Jongin didn’t specify what to wear, so he goes with his usual cargo shorts and polo, and a thick pair of tube socks since he still hasn’t ordered the footwear listed on his Intro to Dance syllabus. (What the hell is a "Hermes lyrical foot glove," anyway? It sounds like a title of those bad pornos Luhan is always sending him).
Jongdae offers to give him a lift to campus, but Baekhyun politely refuses and says he’d rather walk. Not gonna lie, he is a little nervous, and he’d just end up pissing off Jongdae by taking out his nerves with his nails on the upholstery.
It’s a twenty minute hike to campus, fifteen if he speed walks, and usually trekking it alone feels like it takes two and a half years. Today, though, the distance passes in a blur of broken sidewalk and wavering dreams.
Baekhyun strolls into the studio to find Jongin and that tall blonde kid from the quad all huddled in the corner by the stereo stand. They’re both hunched over an ipod, Jongin’s legs splayed behind him, the other guy crosslegged and stretching.
Baekhyun toes off his sneakers at the edge of the dance floor. He steps out into the middle of the room, his slightly sweaty socks misting the vinyl floor with warm condensation. Gross. Now he wishes he would have worn sandals and packed a change of socks.
Baekhyun bounces on the balls of his feet and shoves his fists in his pocket, flapping his elbows and sort of bending his knees because he knows he’s supposed to warm up, but he’s not well versed in dancer-people secrets. After a minute and a half of uncomfortably hopping from one foot to the other and waiting for Jongin to turn around and acknowledge his presence, Baekhyun finally clears his throat with a high pitched cough. Blonde Kid turns his head with a blank eyed stare, but nudges Jongin when Baekhyun wiggles his fingers in greeting.
Jongin almost falls over again at the sight of Baekhyun ready and waiting, a look of shock flaying his features, but Blonde Kid catches him by the shoulder and Jongin hops to his feet. He’s wearing fitted black slippers that mold to his exquisite feet instead of sweaty athletic socks, Baekhyun notices with a gulp.
"Oh hi," Jongin says, "you’re early?"
"By like, three minutes," Baekhyun says, and then grins to make sure that didn’t come off like an accusation.
"But Minseok hyung told me you’re always late to things? I--I mean--!"
"Not to the things I care about," Baekhyun says softly, ducking his head and toeing at the line of frayed tape holding the floor panels in place.
"Well, in that case, let’s get started?"
Jongin keeps phrasing everything like a question, like he’s an impressionable young kid and unsure about everything and he trusts Baekhyun to hold all the answers. Baekhyun could get used to this.
"Let’s roll!"
"Ok, why don’t we warm up at the barre?" Jongin points to the hand railing attached to the mirror paneling along the wall. Baekhyun follows his gesture to see Blonde Kid lounging against the barre at the third panel, skinny arms folded across his chest and a vapid smirk plastered to his lips.
"Is your…friend gonna be joining us?" Baekhyun asks pointedly, eyebrows raised.
"Sehun," Jongin says, jerking his head to the open doorway.
"But I wanted to watch," Sehun whines in a gravelly voice. Jongin just gives him a tight grin and stretches out his arms.
Sehun crosses the floor to meet him in three long strides, leaning in for a half hug. Sehun snuggles his head onto Jongin’s shoulder, but Jongin pinches his side and he jumps back with a yelp. They bump fists, some stupid hand jive that ends in a chest pound, and finally, finally Sehun exits with a lame, "See ya, Bro!"
(Baekhyun looks away for the duration of this exchange, only sneaking quick glances in the mirror, because their sap is purely juvenile. But not because he’s jealous of their cheese, not at all.)
Jongin turns on some flowy piano music. Baekhyun yawns and contemplates suggesting a cuddly nap on the pile of yoga mats stacked in the corner. Then Jongin lifts his leg impossibly high, lowers it onto the barre, and folds his body in half with one swooping stretch.
Baekhyun just stares, clutching the wooden railing in his sweaty grip, because if Jongin’s expecting him to follow along here he’s seriously overestimating the percentage of spandex in Baekhyun’s DNA (like, does the kid put rubber bands in his breakfast smoothies?)
Jongin finishes stretching on the right side and switches legs. He glances over his shoulder to find Baekhyun standing stock still and statuesque, mouth hanging open.
"Come on, aren’t you gonna warm up?" Jongin rubs his chin, flexing his ankle. "Is the music too fast or something?"
"How? Leg? What? Help?" Baekhyun gasps, pointing at Jongin’s well toned thighs and then at the ceiling he practically just speared with his pointed toes.
"Oh," Jongin says. "You really don’t know know what you’re doing?"
Understatement of the day, kid. "Nope."
"Well how do you usually warm up?"
"For soccer? I give my best friend an ass massage with my toes." Jongdae did let him try that once, when he had really tight rotators from training for that 10k. Baekhyun was happy to oblige because every part of him is talented, including his toes.
"...Um."
Oh god, is Jongin blushing? Is that a good thing? Did he just scandalize the kid?
"So, uh, how do dancers usually warm up?" Baekhyun coughs, making sure to politely cover his mouth with his elbow.
"Yeah, let’s just go from there, that’s a good place to start, I think." Jongin restarts the music and leads Baekhyun through some basic knee bends and ankle rolls and toe touches. By the time Jongin declares him properly defrosted, like a chicken breast or something, Baekhyun feels like a dishrag wrung out and they’re only twenty minutes into the lesson.
"What do you want to work on next?" Jongin asks. He looks like he just took a stroll on the quad, not exhausted at all.
"I want to move," Baekhyun says, "like a boss." Jongin nods, considering. "But not like a yakuza boss, more like "Miss Independent"?"
Jongin bursts out laughing. It catches Baekhyun off guard, because 1) he wasn’t expecting shy little sexy munchkin Jongin to have a cackly laugh, and 2) Baekhyun usually gets punched for his jokes.
Baekhyun quickly recovers from shock with his charmingest smile. He kinda likes this, being appreciated so freely. It’s inspiring, and he can feel an onslaught of cheesy puns rising in his bloodstream.
"Ok," Jongin says, and he’s still smiling and Baekhyun just wants to pinch his squishy cheeks and mess up his hair. "Still not exactly sure what you mean, but we can work on that."
******
"How was study hall?"
"You mean dance tutoring?" Baekhyun kicks off his shoes and flops into the nearest folding chair, propping his feet in Jongdae’s lap.
"Yeah whatever," Jongdae grunts. "Get your sweaty sock feet off me unless you want to get stabbed." He brandishes a straight pin and Baekhyun snatches his feet back under the table.
"Fun! We had fun." Baekhyun is vaguely aware that he is grinning like Yixing in a vintage guitar store, but he really doesn’t care because Jongin. He just had a private lesson with Jongin and it was fun and he gets to do it all over again next Tuesday.
"We?" Yixing sits up in his chair, stifling a yawn. "How many of you are there, exactly?"
"Just me and Jongin," Baekhyun says, biting into a granola bar. "Except...Sehun was there, judging my mere existence, and then he didn’t want to leave."
"Ah, the blonde kid?" Yixing asks, squinting at his nails. "Jongin’s possessive guardian angel?"
"More like scary-ass jealous boyfriend!" Baekhyun huffs, accidentally spewing honey oats onto the table. Jongdae shoots him a glare promising all kinds of pin stabbing if he does it again, and scoots his stack of calico fat quarters down to the end.
"Oh no, they’re not dating," Yixing says with a blink.
"What?" Baekhyun’s frown is skeptical, but he sits up in interest. "How do you know that kind of top secret information?"
"It’s kind of common knowledge around the arts building, but also Minseok told me." Yixing reaches for his bottle of coke, scribbling something into his notebook with the other hand.
"So when are you going to make a move?" Luhan is straddling the seat across from Baekhyun, his elbows propped on the chair back.
"All we do is move," Baekhyun whines, sliding his chin onto Yixing’s shoulder. "Can you shut up now, I’m tired."
He’s still reeling and giddy from the earth shifting experience of sharing a studio with Kim Hot Ass Jongin, and this new information about his single status is a little too much to process. Baekhyun needs time to think, to plot.
"Time is kicking, brat." Luhan raps his knuckles on the table, pointing to the green numbers of the clock on his phone display. "Do I need to call up Minseokkie and have a chat with him about--"
"I will MURDER you!" Baekhyun knocks over his chair and also a box of three hundred straight pins as he launches himself across the table at Luhan like a speeding human bullet of desperation and daring dreams. "Give me that--! Uh--!"
******
After tying Luhan to a chair and exiling his phone to Jongdae’s locker, Baekhyun is able to brainstorm a detailed plan of action outlining exactly how to get into Jongin’s dancer pants. (Code name: Operation Touching Paradise (OTP).)
First item on the directive, the only one they unanimously agreed on, is The Food Method. The way to a guy’s heart is through his stomach, yada yada--that always works on teenage guys, it’s fool proof, right?
So Baekhyun wakes up at the crack of 9:00 on Tuesday, three full hours before he has to leave for class. He walks to the fancy candy shop downtown, the one that sells handmade chocolates in big heart shaped boxes with holographic gold seals. You know, the really classy stuff.
Baekhyun marches right in and picks out the biggest, pinkest, holograph-iest box, and promptly has an existential crisis at the register. Heart shaped truffles and rose blossom rock candy--what was he thinking? He can’t give that to Jongin like a schoolgirl with an embarrassing crush on Valentine’s Day. No, despite his tender age, Jongin is a real man and deserves something manly.
It’s a tough call, but Baekhyun works his quick thinking magic and grabs the first gift wrapped thing next to the register--a cellophane bag of star shaped marshmallows.
Despite their manly rose water scent and psychedelic star power, Jongin does not look impressed when Baekhyun hands them over at the start of their next lesson.
"I’m on a diet," Jongin says with a blank look, like this is news Baekhyun should’ve somehow known. "I can’t eat carbs."
"Marshmallows have carbs?" The sound of Baekhyun’s heart breaking, rather reminiscent of shattering glass, is drowned out by the crinkle of cellophane as Jongin shoves his gift back into his hands. "I thought they were, like, flavored air!"
"Let’s get to work," Jongin says, turning away to fiddle with the stereo. "We need to do turn drills."
******
"How is dance tutoring going?" Yixing is smiling, fingering the frets of his guitar without actually strumming as he scribble chords in his notebook. Baekhyun tries to smile back, but his mouth is too full of marshmallows and the taste of fail.
"One! Grecian urn!" Luhan hops up on the counter, tossing a pouf of tulle over his shoulder like a toga. "Two! Gre--" He flails, breaking off in a yowl of pain when Jongdae stabs him with a pin.
"Apparently marshmallows are a carb?" Baekhyun swallows the last marshmallow without chewing and and plops down next to Yixing.
"I take it The Food Method did not go over as planned?" Jongdae drums his fingers against a bolt of buckram, ignoring Luhan who is still floundering on the floor in a tangle of pink netting.
Baekhyun knocks his head against the table in answer, and Yixing leans over to pat his cheek.
"Don’t lose heart, Baekhyunnie! He can’t resist temptation forever. You just have to find his achilles’ heel, the one taste that makes his heart sing."
"That would be the taste of my lips, obviously," Baekhyun moans into the table. "He just doesn’t know it yet."
"Well, hang tight, bro," Yixing says over the sound of Luhan and Jongdae gagging in harmony. "You’ll figure out something."
******
It’s already midterms before Baekhyun gets his next stroke of genius. He’s the third to hand in his paper at his Econ exam on Tuesday, so Baekhyun heads to the arts building early. He finds Jongin in the hall half hidden behind the door of his locker, gaze glued to something on the inside surface.
Baekhyun clears his throat and waits for Jongin to emerge, but the dance tutor keeps staring, wetting his lips with hungry swipes of his tongue. Baekhyun is getting itchy with impatience, watching Jongin glare at the door with an oddly adorable mixture of lust and adoration in his eyes.
Also, Baekhyun is getting really curious. Is Jongin staring at a collage of chocolate abs ripped from Vogue? Or maybe he’s practicing identifying all nine members of SNSD by their legs alone, or what if he…oh.
"Well hello there," Baekhyun drawls, stretching onto tiptoe to peer over the top edge of the door. "And what are you drooling over this fine Tuesday?"
"Huh? What? I’m not looking--! I mean, I don’t like golden skin and--! I--nothing, Hyung!" Jongin ducks around the door and slams it shut with his shoulder. It doesn’t close all the way, a crumpled T-shirt caught in the gap, but Jongin plasters himself against the frame and crosses his arms defiantly across his heaving chest.
"Nothing," he insists with a wobbly smile, but Baekhyun can feel Jongin’s resolve crumble like the corner of Jongdae’s burnt pop tarts as he approaches.
"Ok," Baekhyun says, "never mind then. Hey, do you have any extra bandaids? I think I’m getting a blister from these new boots and--"
"Sure thing, Hyung!" Jongin’s face lights up at the distraction and he whirls around, banging open the door as he plunges an arm into the dirty laundry casserole overflowing from his locker, presumably in search of a bandaid.
Baekhyun is initially disappointed to see that his own beautiful face isn’t glued to Jongin’s locker, but he recovers with a burst of relief upon realizing there aren’t any boobies he’ll have to compete with, either.
The entire inside surface is covered in delivery ads for chicken: extra spicy, well being-baked with herbs and lemon yogurt, soy sauce and ginger flavor, and golden fried hot wings. There must be dozens of ads, layered like fish scales with the tear off coupons at the bottoms carefully taped around for ease of access. It’s like a pornographic shrine to deep fried poultry.
Ouch, ok. Baekhyun feels a little intimidated, but at least Jongin’s not hoarding pinups of SNSD. That might be a little harder to compete with. But chicken...chicken he can work to his advantage.
"Uh, Jongin?" Baekhyun calls, dodging a pair of tights and an extra dance belt as Jongin weeds through his cubby. "If you can’t find one, it’s ok, I can live without a bandaid."
"Oh, are you sure?" Jongin pulls his head out of the clothing cave. "Maybe Sooyoung noona has one if you really--oh shit," he breaks off, noticing that Baekhyun is wiggling jazz fingers in front of his door of carefully protected secrets.
"Jongin, are you hungry?" Baekhyun curbs the impulse to reach up and feel Jongin’s forehead beneath his floppy bangs; he’s looking a little glassy eyed and feverish underneath his cap.
"Yessss," Jongin hisses, ducking his chin into the unbuttoned collar of his polo.
"Hey, hey look at me," Baekhyun soothes, tapping a gentle finger to the underside of his chin. "It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but…"
"Ok." Jongin looks up with searching eyes, biting down on his lip before continuing. "I haven’t had chicken in…" he takes a deep breath, sliding a finger down the outline of a glossy print drumstick, "three weeks, six days, and four hours, I--" He starts to swoon, and Baekhyun catches him by the shoulders before he careens into the wall.
"Hey, don’t torture yourself dude. You gotta live a little." Jongin nods weakly, meeting Baekhyun’s gaze. "When’s the last time you let loose, got boozed and enjoyed yourself?"
"Well," Jongin bites his lip again, stuffing his wardrobe back into his locker.
"Come on, let’s get out of here." Baekhyun shoves the last pair of sweats and a dusty scarf in the cubby and tugs on Jongin’s wrist.
"What about--tutoring?" Jongin gasps as Baekhyun drags him towards the nearest exit. He points to the empty studio reserved for their lesson as they pass.
"That’s not important right now," Baekhyun says, dropping his wrist to give Jongin the chance to bail if he really wants to. "Let’s go take care of your primal urges, and we can worry about the Macarena later."
So that’s how they end up in the nearest restaurant on Tuesday afternoon, knees bumping under a low table as they clink bottles together. Jongin has never looked more beautiful than under the flicker of the fluorescents at BHC, Baekhyun thinks as he takes a swig from his coke bottle. He sighs, admiring the swoop of Jongin’s jawline as he tears into a drumstick with his shiny white movie star teeth.
And maybe it’s cliche, the way Baekhyun’s heart squeezes and expands to twice it’s size at the sight of Jongin’s happy, sated smile. Jongin looks almost tipsy with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, smiling even with his mouth full. He must be drunk on the salty grease and fragrant steam, all the endorphins rushing his deprived system.
Baekhyun’s chest feels full, more tingly than he can blame on his carbonated soft drink, and maybe, just maybe, he thinks, his feelings for Jongin have grown past a crush into something like chickenlove. Which, as Jongin declares as he waves a piece of extra crispy in each hand, is the most powerful love of all.
******
The next month passes in a blur of homework and dance class, and even a few more chicken dates. Ever since the locker confessional, Baekhyun and Jongin have been texting almost every day. And not just about which studio and what time they should meet, they talk about all kinds of things, including but not limited to Jongin’s pet--ahem--baby dogs, Buzzfeed quizzes, and ice cream, all complemented by Baekhyun’s impeccable sense of humor.
They still meet every Tuesday for tutoring of course, and to Baekhyun’s delight but not really surprise, he is progressing excellently. His Intro to Dance teacher even tells him so in front of the class that Friday. The semester is winding down, the days stretching closer and closer to finals. Baekhyun is glad that he won’t have to suffer through group dance class any longer, but he will really, really miss bumming around the studio with Jongin.
Things have definitely warmed up between them--dare he say heated?--but Baekhyun has yet to make a definitive move to settle Operation Touching Paradise once and for all. And if there’s one principle Byun Baekhyun sticks to, it’s to finish what he’s started.
The week before finals Baekhyun comes into the studio a bit early, hoping to talk to Jongin before they start warm ups. Instead of Jongin lounging in front of the stereo, however, Baekhyun saunters in to find Sehun slouched against the barre, arms folded across his purple hoodie.
"Um, hi?" Baekhyun waves from the doorway, not sure if he should take off his shoes and start stretching, or if tutoring is canceled, or if he got the wrong studio, or--
"What are your intentions towards my bff?" Sehun says, advancing across the floor with a prowling gate. He leans forward until he’s looming over Baekhyun and his in-need-of-a-trim bangs fall forward in curtains from his temples.
"Excuse me?" Baekhyun stutters. He stands his ground, because he is the upperclassman in the room after all, but he kind of wants to hightail it back to the lobby to wait for Jongin.
"Just answer the question." Sehun frames his jaw with his palm and taps a long finger against his brow.
"Nothing untoward, I can assure you!" Baekhyun yelps, raising both his hands in defense. "I like him, he likes me, and sometimes we eat chicken."
"That’s it?" Sehun’s mouth is hanging open in disbelief, and Baekhyun kind of wishes he would close it.
"Yup," he says, nodding quickly, "unless, of course, Jongin wanted something more, in which case…" Baekhyun waves his hands in a rolling motion, and Sehun frowns, dropping his hands to his hips.
"I don’t follow your meaning."
"Just…" Baekhyun sighs, rolling his shoulders forward in a demi port de bras. "Look, I care about Jongin, ok? I mean, I practically owe him the salvation of my GPA and--"
"That’s what I was afraid of." Sehun’s scowl deepens as he takes a step closer. "If you’re just using Jongin for a grade, or a lay, or a--"
"Absolutely not!" Baekhyun stamps his foot. The vibrations of the sprung floor tingle all the way up to his knee. "I swear on my sacred GPA I won’t do anything to--to make Jongin sad, or unhappy, and I will always be his friend first and foremost for as long as he wants!"
Sehun stares down at him for a moment as Baekhyun pants, then rearranges his face into a vague expression, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips.
"Cool," Sehun says, "that’s all I needed to know. See you around." He shoves his hands in his jean pockets and shuffles to the door. Baekhyun swivels to stare after him, starting when Jongin brushes past him into the studio.
"Uh, hi, sorry I’m late," Jongin says, shaking his head like a dog til his tousled hair falls into his eyes. "Did you wait long?"
"Not really." Baekhyun shrugs. "Hey, are you ok?" Jongin’s nose is red and flaky with dry skin around his nostrils, and his eyes look swollen in their sockets.
"Uh huh," Jongin nods through a wide yawn, "I’m fi--ahCHOO!" The force of his sneeze knocks him to his knees and Baekhyun rushes over to catch him by the shoulders and slip the strap of his heavy bag from his neck.
"You don’t look so good! Why aren’t you at home in bed?"
"I just came from bed," Jongin sniffles. "I overslept because...NyQuil...what do they put it that stuff, man I--" He shakes his head again, as if his ears are all stuffed up with wool he can’t shake loose.
"Maybe we should get you back there, before you collapse under a pile of Celine Dion remixes. The cleaning lady wouldn’t find you til Monday!"
"No, stupid." Jongin lifts a weak fist and bumps the edge of Baekhyun’s shoulder. "She wouldn’t have to find me, ‘cause you’d be here to dig me out, right?"
"Oh," Baekhyun says, and gets distracted by the lazy smile Jongin’s beaming up at him. Jongin keeps fluttering his lashes, like he’s shy but preening under Baekhyun’s attention, and he fully trusts Baekhyun to rescue him from CDpocalypses. Baekhyun could get used to this.
"Hyung," Jongin croaks, but it’s a cute croak that has Baekhyun’s heart fluttering like Jongin’s lashes. "Are we gonna….dance now? Or what?"
"Oh, right, um." Baekhyun clears his throat, helping Jongin to his feet. "Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll just run through the choreo, if you’re sure you’re feeling up to it?"
"I’m fine," Jongin grins, and then sneezes into his elbow. "I like watching you dance, just consider it fried chicken soup for my soul." His wink has more of a smolder in it than drugged up sick people should be allowed to have, and Baekhyun tries not to shiver as he strips off his jacket and jogs to the stereo to start the music.
Baekhyun dances the best he’s ever Macarena’d, maybe even better than that Chanyeol guy in the Youtube tutorial Jongin used to coach him. With the heat of Jongin’s gaze on him as the music washes over his nerves, Bakehyun lets go and lets his body take over. He focuses his attention on the tiny details of his performance, the flick of his wrists, the curl of his fingers, the sway of his hips as he palms down his body.
Baekhyun is on fire and he’s loving it, the way his limbs flow exactly where he wants them to, and the way his heartbeat matches the rhythm of the bass. He’s panting when the music stops but he wants to keep going, he could keep dancing forever as long as he has Jongin’s sharp gaze fully enraptured by his fluid boss moves.
"Hey, how was that? Pretty good, huh? Did you see--"
Baekhyun breaks off, interrupted by a soft snore as Jongin’s head slides down the mirror to wilt into his chest.
******
Baekhyun spends the rest of the week pwning his Econ review, and Jongin is busy being sick, so there’s no time for their usual chicken date on Friday. Baekhyun heads over to Yixing’s instead for a quick break with some Smash Bros and omelettes.
"Are you making the cookies this weekend?" Yixing asks, stirring salt into the beaten eggs in his mixing bowl.
"Yeah." Baekhyun yawns, sitting up on the sofa. "Or maybe on Tuesday, I dunno. Why?"
"Well, they’re for Jongin, right?"
"Yes." Baekhyun hugs a pillow to his famished stomach and wishes Yixing would hurry up with dinner.
"He’s going home on Monday, you know. The dance kids finish finals early."
"Oh no!" Baekhyun ditches the pillow, scrambling for Yixing’s notebook and a pen. "Baking is not the problem but--Hyung, you gotta help me! I haven’t finished the lyrics to my rap confession!"
"Oh gee," Luhan sighs, rolling over on his side in front of the TV. "I thought we collectively decided that was a horrible idea and should be burned at the stake."
"You decided that," Baekhyun sniffs, "but I still like my plan. A rap is unique and progressive, yet still maintains romantic elements of poetic aesthetic." Or at least that’s what he read on that Chanyeol dude’s blog.
"Suit yourself," Yixing shrugs, pouring the eggs into the crackle of hot grease in the pan. Baekhyun doesn’t answer, already immersed in his confessional endeavor.
******
"You know, there are other things that rhyme with ‘swagger’ besides ‘Mick Jagger’," Jongdae says with a judging smirk. He tosses the sixth draft of Baekhyun’s lyrics on a pile of pompoms.
"Such as?" Baekhyun folds his arms and juts out his chin, all gangstah like.
"Stagger, nagger, kegger?" Luhan counts off the options on his fingers. "Uh, beggar? Flicker?"
"Uh huh." Now it’s Baekhyun’s turn to wither the silk crepe in Jongdae’s hands with a judging glare, but Jongdae just shrugs.
"Do whatever you want man, but my advice is still ditch the rap and just talk to him. And definitely put a ribbon or a bow or something on that bakery box, that plain white exterior is hella basic!" Jongdae drops the bodice he’s embroidering to root through his box of trimming odds and ends.
"How do you even have this many scraps?" Baekhyun huffs, ducking an insert of camo patterned lace that lands over Luhan’s head like a wedding veil.
"One can never have too many craft supplies," Jongdae says, twirling a tassel on his finger. "If the zombie apocalypse goes down I’ll strangle those mother fockers with grossgrain and string them up with macrame."
"That does sound terrifying," Baekhyun says weakly as Jongdae trusses up Jongin’s thank you/confession/you rock! gift in a yard of red ribbon.
"Focus!" Luhan snaps his fingers in front of Baekhyun’s addled stare. "Don’t think about ambulant rotting flesh right now, think about love!"
"Yes," Yixing nods sagely, "it’s the most powerful thing in the world."
"Ok," Baekhyun giggles in a fit of nerves. He clutches the box to his chest and fluffs the ribbon bow. "Wish me luck, bros."
"Go get ‘em, Tiger!" Luhan slaps his ass and shoves him out the door.
******
"Thanks for meeting me," Baekhyun says when Jongin pushes through the studio door. He’s standing in front of the mirror, next to the stereo. "I know you must be busy since you’re moving home tomorrow."
"Yeah," Jongin shrugs. "But it’s ok, I’m done packing and stuff." He slips out of his shoes and crosses the room to lean against the mirror beside Baekhyun, hands in the pockets of his ratty sweats.
"That’s...good," Baekhyun nods. "I brought you something." He tries not to blush as he hands the box over, gritting his teeth when he catches sight of his ugly scrawl across the lid. He should’ve taken Jongdae’s advice and just stuck with the ribbon.
"What’s this?" Jongin opens the package, sliding the ribbon off the corners before he flips back the lid. His eyes go wide at the mound of coconut macaroons nestled inside, each tasseled top lightly browned to golden perfection. "Hyung," he says, "they’re so beautiful, I--"
"It’s ok," Baekhyun tells him, laughing softly at the quiet whimper that falls from Jongin’s lips. "Go ahead, try one!" He picks the biggest one out of the box and holds it up for Jongin to taste.
"But I--!"
Baekhyun puts up a hand to silence him and shoves the macaroon up to Jongin’s lips. "They are sugar free and made out of egg whites. No carbs, no excuses."
Jongin grabs the cookie and stuffs it in his face. "I’m gonna miss this," he sighs, still chewing on the first macaroon as he reaches for another one.
"What, me tempting you with food when we should be practicing?" Baekhyun teases, leaning his shoulder into the mirror.
"Yeah, but I mean all of it." Jongin swallows with a sniffle and takes three more cookies into his hand. "Hanging out, waking up to mispelled texts of your lame jokes on my phone, all of it." He waves his fist and crumbs of toasted coconut sprinkle like fairy dust across the floor space between them. Baekhyun starts to close the distance, sliding his right foot between Jongin’s wide stance.
"My jokes are not lame," Baekhyun protests, huffing in pretended offense. "You laugh every time!"
"Hehe!" Jongin’s giggle bubbles between his plush lips and it’s all Baekhyun can do to keep from leaning in to claim them, but he promised Sehun he wouldn’t do anything without Jongin’s permission. "I guess I do, yeah." Jongin looks down, giving Baekhyun a perfect view of the way his long lashes splay over the curve of his cheek. "So...we can still hang out and stuff, right? I mean after your final, assuming you pass it and all."
"You idiot," Baekhyun scoffs, and kicks the instep of Jongin’s dance sneaker with his toes. "Of course I’m passing, I do have the best tutor, after all." Jongin’s gaze darts up, his lips parting around a flick of his tongue, and Baekhyun tries not to groan at how perfect he looks, how perfectly kissable and--
"Really?" Jongin asks. "You think I’m a good tutor?"
"Not a good tutor," Baekhyun corrects, "I said the best. Are you even listening to me when I’m talking to you?"
"Yeah," Jongin says, but it’s hard to believe him when his voice comes out all breathy and distracted, his gaze caught on Baekhyun’s chin or maybe down by his lips.
"And of course we can still hang out! I mean, if you want too," Baekhyun falters, his fingers tangling in the red ribbon. The ends are still caught in the perky bow Jongdae tied around the box.
"Just as friends?" Jongin aks, and Baekhyun frowns, because is Jongin asking what he thinks he’s asking?
"Well, no offense, but once I ace my final I don’t think I’ll need your tutoring services," Baekhyun smirks. He clears his throat, and Jongin raises his head, his neck straightening like a turtle’s out if its shell. "Friends would be nice, just friends is good but--" Baekhyun winces, screwing up all the courage in his tiger bro BAMF soul, and prays to Jongdae’s voodoo mannequin that this comes out right.
"How would you feel if we...if we, you know, more than…" Baekhyun’s lips are heavy and numb, like he’s trying to speak underwater. Baekhyun is drowning in Jongin’s eyes, hundreds of gallons of hypothetical cold sea water washing through his lungs and out through his eardrums. He gasps in a breath, dropping his gaze to fall on Jongin’s pink lips, and oh god was that a mistake or what, because Baekhyun can’t think anymore, not with Jongin’s soft lips working around the peek of his tongue and--
"Hyung," Jongin gurgles, and Baekhyun realizes with a hot flash of embarrassment that Jongin’s trying not to laugh but mostly failing. "Hyung, if you want to kiss me, just go ahead already!"
"Ok," Baekhyun says, and presses Jongin into the mirror as their mouths meet. Baekhyun gasps as Jongin’s tongue probes the seam of his mouth for entrance, because fuck--this is hotter than anything he’s imagined with Jongin. It’s also a lot sweeter, the warm taste of golden brown coconut coating his tongue as he palms the golden brown expanse of smooth skin under Jongin’s sweater.
"Mm," Jongin groans as Baekhyun finally sinks his fingers into the ass he’s been drooling over since August. "Thanks, Hyung. Finally!" Jongin’s giggle is breathless and Baekhyun is panting for air. "I’ve been waiting for that for awhile now."
"You little brat!" Baekhyun tweaks Jongin’s nose, then both of his cheeks, biting down on his lip to wipe the smirk off his face. It doesn’t work though. Jongin’s smug smile just widens into a shameless grin when Baekhyun comes up for air again. "You can’t have been waiting as long as I have, though."
Jongin yelps when Baekhyun pinches his hip, and yes, Baekhyun still thinks Jongin has the sweetest ass on campus. But now he’s more interested in the shy smile Jongin’s beaming at him, beaming at him, Byun Baekhyun, King of World. And Baekhyun has never felt happier than when Jongin hooks an ankle around his legs and pulls him into a tight embrace. He leans down to rest his forehead against Baekhyun’s with a soft sigh, and kisses him again.