so many ways to be with you {school 2013}
title: so many ways to be with you
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: pg-13
pairing(s): heungsoo/namsoon
summary: he won't forget the first four
a/n: okay so this is my attempt at making happy things. the fourth time is right after the scene in ep 15 closes off. AMY SILVIA IT'S FOR YOU. sobs.
Namsoon and Heungsoo have had sex three times before the incident.
They’ve never kissed.
The first time is the night that Namsoon finishes induction into the gang. They steal alcohol from a convenience store owner too old to chase them, and too senile to put up a proper police report. They bring it back to Heungsoo’s house, one of the few nights where his mother and sister are both out, and they drink. It’s the first time they’ve ever been drunk, and it leads to messy handjobs that have them laughing in hysterics-breathless and panting-for no reason, just because they can.
They drink well into the fine line between late night and early morning, and when Heungsoo whispers in a rush (laughing-still laughing, and they’re so drunk) that his mother and sister are out of town, Namsoon suggests that they try something bigger-that they do something even funnier. Their pants are still undone (they never bothered to zip them back up), and Namsoon is already pressed on top of Heungsoo from when they’d dozed off earlier. Heungsoo grinds their hips together, waistbands are lowered, but they keep all of their clothes on for this first time.
Namsoon hurts and burns through it and Heungsoo is uncomfortable because Namsoon is too tight and too hot and neither of them really know what to do, but they’re just that drunk-already horny and pliant from too many orgasms-and it passes just like that. They fall asleep sticky and dirty, and in the morning neither of them talks about it. They’re too hungover in the morning, too busy buying aspirins and hangover soups, to really remember.
The second time is after Heungsoo scores the winning goal for a particularly vicious, hard-earned game. Heungsoo goes with his team and coach for one round of barbeque before meeting up with Namsoon in the equipment shed of their school. It’s dark and musty and Heungsoo has spent too much time in here cleaning up after his sunbaes. Namsoon has cigarettes and drinks in hand and a shit-eating on his face. “Everyone tried to congratulate you,” he says. “But you came-”
“Namsoon-ah,” Heungsoo stage-whispers, snatching the bottles and pack out of the other boy’s hand, “fuck off.”
Once they’re pumped with alcohol and nicotine, systems loosened and inhibitions lowered, it just feels the right thing to do. It’s only the second time, but it feels like tradition. This is big for them-big for Heungsoo, and so also big for Namsoon. They’re celebrating, and this feels celebratory. It’s just another vice right now-to go along with the drinking and the smoking. Namsoon starts it off with a blowjob, full lips puckered over the tip of Heungsoo’s cock-and Heungsoo ends it by pressing Namsoon into the dusty floor of the shed, still only with nothing but saliva to ease the burn and the stretch but this time around they aren’t as drunk and it feels good and Namsoon is thrusting back into it and it’s good. It is.
They still don’t talk about it. They don’t pretend it didn’t happen (they can’t pretend it didn’t happen-there’s dust and dirt all over the front of Namsoon’s shirt from being pressed down-their hair flies in every direction-there are fingernail marks embedded into Heungsoo’s back-Namsoon’s throat is littered with splotches and bite marks). They just don’t talk about it to any lengths. They wake up and Namsoon complains about not being able to sit down, Heungsoo snipes back about his soccer uniform nearly getting torn, they grin at each other, but they don’t talk about it.
It’s not weird or awkward. It’s just them.
But it’s not a regular thing. They aren’t together. They’re friends. They drink together, steal together, fight together, smoke together, cut class together, fuck together.
The third time happens on the night that Heungsoo planned to leave the gang.
Nothing about it is a surprise. Namsoon tells Heungsoo the exact time and location and it’s late enough at night (early enough in the morning) that they have time to kill between the end of class and that fated hour. Nothing about this was supposed to be a big deal. Heungsoo clearly didn’t see it as a big deal. There’s no smile on his face but his tone is light and brisk, and his words end comfortably as he pins Namsoon against the wall of an empty alleyway. “You’re watching every game,” Heungsoo says, once he’s pushed completely into Namsoon. He’s not moving, just in Namsoon, as if Namsoon’s breaths aren’t choked, as if Namsoon’s bare thighs and ass aren’t pressed against the brick wall.
“Can’t-not every-in Seoul-” is all Namsoon can wring out of himself when Heungsoo does start moving.
“All of them, bastard,” Heungsoo says, burying his face in Namsoon’s shoulder (because they don’t look at each other when they do this-it’s weird if they look at each other). “Need you there.”
Namsoon can only reply with desperate keens and soundless gasps.
They both finish after Heungsoo snaps his hips just four more times, and then Heungsoo lets Namsoon down. They clean themselves up, and head to the meeting location where Namsoon breaks Heungsoo, Heungsoo’s dream, Heungsoo’s leg, their friendship, what they are to each other, himself, his own heart, and everything in between.
The fourth time is a little different.
They aren’t celebrating, they aren’t commemorating, they aren’t saying goodbye.
But it’s big, that’s inarguable.
Heungsoo is sprawled out on the mats and blankets first. Namsoon is still washing the ramen pot and bowls. Both of their eyes are still red and damp, both of them are still sucking air in through their nose because blowing your nose means you cried and they didn’t cry. Maybe Heungsoo did. Namsoon didn’t. Go Namsoon doesn’t cry.
He finishes the dishes, and sheds his uniform piece by piece until he’s just in his Oxford and khakis. Heungsoo is leaning against the cabinet, pillows propping him up, long legs straight out in front of him. He doesn’t look up when Namsoon shuffles forward and straddles him in silence. Namsoon is going half on intuition and half on his own selfishness that maybe this part of them can continue too. He’s never planned to ask for more (because those past three times he knew it was all just him and to Heungsoo it was just the tradition it should’ve stayed). This is enough, but first he needs to know if this is still up for debate at all.
Maybe it’s not. If it isn’t, Namsoon’s okay with that too.
Three years changes a lot.
When Heungsoo still hasn’t looked at him, Namsoon lowers his eyes and reaches out slowly, fingers skimming over Heungsoo’s belt.
And then his wrist is suddenly locked in Heungsoo’s hand, held up level to both their faces and far out of reach of Heungsoo’s waistband. Heungsoo is looking at him now-definitely looking at him-and Namsoon can’t decipher that expression. It’s not anger-Namsoon knows that pain isn’t the same as anger now. But this expression isn’t pain either. Nor is it rejection.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three.
Heungsoo kisses him.
Long and slow and it’s as if Heungsoo won’t stop until Namsoon’s eyes close because they’re wide open with surprise when their lips first touch. Heungsoo doesn’t pull away until Namsoon’s eyelashes have brushed the tops of his cheekbones. It’s not deep, but it’s warm and it’s soft. Strangely gentle.
Namsoon doesn’t want to open his eyes.
Good dreams are always worse than nightmares.
The hand around his wrist hasn’t let go. “You sleeping, asshole?” and Heungsoo’s voice is as warm as his kiss.
Namsoon takes another breath with his eyes still closed before he opens them and looks into Heungsoo’s face. And then Namsoon knows. He realizes. That’s what the kiss means. It’s a question, and it’s a confession, and it’s a promise. Namsoon understands-he understood the moment he opened his eyes and there’s change written across Heungsoo’s gaze. It’s different. And yet maybe it’s what it should’ve been all along.
“No,” Namsoon answers the question, because no, Namsoon isn’t doing this because he feels guilty-he’s not doing this because this is what he thinks Heungsoo wants-he’s not doing this because he wants to go back to how things were three years ago.
“Yeah,” Namsoon lets himself grin a bit for the confession because his heart is beating too hard and too loudly in his chest. Heungsoo rolls his eyes and one hand squeezes Namsoon’s hip.
“Okay,” Namsoon says to the promise because it’s different, and he wants it to be different too. There’s no point in repairing something just to live out the version of themselves they were three years ago. Their friendship is back-is in the process of healing-but it’s time that they stop trying to fix themselves into the Heungsoo and Namsoon of three years ago. It’s time to be the Heungsoo and Namsoon of three years later. Of now. Of 2013.
Heungsoo lets go of Namsoon’s wrist. “Okay,” he echoes, and one corner of his mouth tugs up into something that could be a smile or a grin but either way, it’s just for Namsoon. Both hands are on Namsoon’s hips now and they pull him even closer against Heungsoo. Namsoon forgets that he even meant to start out by unzipping Heungsoo’s pants. He leans in to kiss Heungsoo again instead.
Namsoon loses track of how many times they have sex after that night.
But he can’t forget the first four times.
Three times as friends.
One time as friends and a little more.
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: pg-13
pairing(s): heungsoo/namsoon
summary: he won't forget the first four
a/n: okay so this is my attempt at making happy things. the fourth time is right after the scene in ep 15 closes off. AMY SILVIA IT'S FOR YOU. sobs.
Namsoon and Heungsoo have had sex three times before the incident.
They’ve never kissed.
The first time is the night that Namsoon finishes induction into the gang. They steal alcohol from a convenience store owner too old to chase them, and too senile to put up a proper police report. They bring it back to Heungsoo’s house, one of the few nights where his mother and sister are both out, and they drink. It’s the first time they’ve ever been drunk, and it leads to messy handjobs that have them laughing in hysterics-breathless and panting-for no reason, just because they can.
They drink well into the fine line between late night and early morning, and when Heungsoo whispers in a rush (laughing-still laughing, and they’re so drunk) that his mother and sister are out of town, Namsoon suggests that they try something bigger-that they do something even funnier. Their pants are still undone (they never bothered to zip them back up), and Namsoon is already pressed on top of Heungsoo from when they’d dozed off earlier. Heungsoo grinds their hips together, waistbands are lowered, but they keep all of their clothes on for this first time.
Namsoon hurts and burns through it and Heungsoo is uncomfortable because Namsoon is too tight and too hot and neither of them really know what to do, but they’re just that drunk-already horny and pliant from too many orgasms-and it passes just like that. They fall asleep sticky and dirty, and in the morning neither of them talks about it. They’re too hungover in the morning, too busy buying aspirins and hangover soups, to really remember.
The second time is after Heungsoo scores the winning goal for a particularly vicious, hard-earned game. Heungsoo goes with his team and coach for one round of barbeque before meeting up with Namsoon in the equipment shed of their school. It’s dark and musty and Heungsoo has spent too much time in here cleaning up after his sunbaes. Namsoon has cigarettes and drinks in hand and a shit-eating on his face. “Everyone tried to congratulate you,” he says. “But you came-”
“Namsoon-ah,” Heungsoo stage-whispers, snatching the bottles and pack out of the other boy’s hand, “fuck off.”
Once they’re pumped with alcohol and nicotine, systems loosened and inhibitions lowered, it just feels the right thing to do. It’s only the second time, but it feels like tradition. This is big for them-big for Heungsoo, and so also big for Namsoon. They’re celebrating, and this feels celebratory. It’s just another vice right now-to go along with the drinking and the smoking. Namsoon starts it off with a blowjob, full lips puckered over the tip of Heungsoo’s cock-and Heungsoo ends it by pressing Namsoon into the dusty floor of the shed, still only with nothing but saliva to ease the burn and the stretch but this time around they aren’t as drunk and it feels good and Namsoon is thrusting back into it and it’s good. It is.
They still don’t talk about it. They don’t pretend it didn’t happen (they can’t pretend it didn’t happen-there’s dust and dirt all over the front of Namsoon’s shirt from being pressed down-their hair flies in every direction-there are fingernail marks embedded into Heungsoo’s back-Namsoon’s throat is littered with splotches and bite marks). They just don’t talk about it to any lengths. They wake up and Namsoon complains about not being able to sit down, Heungsoo snipes back about his soccer uniform nearly getting torn, they grin at each other, but they don’t talk about it.
It’s not weird or awkward. It’s just them.
But it’s not a regular thing. They aren’t together. They’re friends. They drink together, steal together, fight together, smoke together, cut class together, fuck together.
The third time happens on the night that Heungsoo planned to leave the gang.
Nothing about it is a surprise. Namsoon tells Heungsoo the exact time and location and it’s late enough at night (early enough in the morning) that they have time to kill between the end of class and that fated hour. Nothing about this was supposed to be a big deal. Heungsoo clearly didn’t see it as a big deal. There’s no smile on his face but his tone is light and brisk, and his words end comfortably as he pins Namsoon against the wall of an empty alleyway. “You’re watching every game,” Heungsoo says, once he’s pushed completely into Namsoon. He’s not moving, just in Namsoon, as if Namsoon’s breaths aren’t choked, as if Namsoon’s bare thighs and ass aren’t pressed against the brick wall.
“Can’t-not every-in Seoul-” is all Namsoon can wring out of himself when Heungsoo does start moving.
“All of them, bastard,” Heungsoo says, burying his face in Namsoon’s shoulder (because they don’t look at each other when they do this-it’s weird if they look at each other). “Need you there.”
Namsoon can only reply with desperate keens and soundless gasps.
They both finish after Heungsoo snaps his hips just four more times, and then Heungsoo lets Namsoon down. They clean themselves up, and head to the meeting location where Namsoon breaks Heungsoo, Heungsoo’s dream, Heungsoo’s leg, their friendship, what they are to each other, himself, his own heart, and everything in between.
The fourth time is a little different.
They aren’t celebrating, they aren’t commemorating, they aren’t saying goodbye.
But it’s big, that’s inarguable.
Heungsoo is sprawled out on the mats and blankets first. Namsoon is still washing the ramen pot and bowls. Both of their eyes are still red and damp, both of them are still sucking air in through their nose because blowing your nose means you cried and they didn’t cry. Maybe Heungsoo did. Namsoon didn’t. Go Namsoon doesn’t cry.
He finishes the dishes, and sheds his uniform piece by piece until he’s just in his Oxford and khakis. Heungsoo is leaning against the cabinet, pillows propping him up, long legs straight out in front of him. He doesn’t look up when Namsoon shuffles forward and straddles him in silence. Namsoon is going half on intuition and half on his own selfishness that maybe this part of them can continue too. He’s never planned to ask for more (because those past three times he knew it was all just him and to Heungsoo it was just the tradition it should’ve stayed). This is enough, but first he needs to know if this is still up for debate at all.
Maybe it’s not. If it isn’t, Namsoon’s okay with that too.
Three years changes a lot.
When Heungsoo still hasn’t looked at him, Namsoon lowers his eyes and reaches out slowly, fingers skimming over Heungsoo’s belt.
And then his wrist is suddenly locked in Heungsoo’s hand, held up level to both their faces and far out of reach of Heungsoo’s waistband. Heungsoo is looking at him now-definitely looking at him-and Namsoon can’t decipher that expression. It’s not anger-Namsoon knows that pain isn’t the same as anger now. But this expression isn’t pain either. Nor is it rejection.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three.
Heungsoo kisses him.
Long and slow and it’s as if Heungsoo won’t stop until Namsoon’s eyes close because they’re wide open with surprise when their lips first touch. Heungsoo doesn’t pull away until Namsoon’s eyelashes have brushed the tops of his cheekbones. It’s not deep, but it’s warm and it’s soft. Strangely gentle.
Namsoon doesn’t want to open his eyes.
Good dreams are always worse than nightmares.
The hand around his wrist hasn’t let go. “You sleeping, asshole?” and Heungsoo’s voice is as warm as his kiss.
Namsoon takes another breath with his eyes still closed before he opens them and looks into Heungsoo’s face. And then Namsoon knows. He realizes. That’s what the kiss means. It’s a question, and it’s a confession, and it’s a promise. Namsoon understands-he understood the moment he opened his eyes and there’s change written across Heungsoo’s gaze. It’s different. And yet maybe it’s what it should’ve been all along.
“No,” Namsoon answers the question, because no, Namsoon isn’t doing this because he feels guilty-he’s not doing this because this is what he thinks Heungsoo wants-he’s not doing this because he wants to go back to how things were three years ago.
“Yeah,” Namsoon lets himself grin a bit for the confession because his heart is beating too hard and too loudly in his chest. Heungsoo rolls his eyes and one hand squeezes Namsoon’s hip.
“Okay,” Namsoon says to the promise because it’s different, and he wants it to be different too. There’s no point in repairing something just to live out the version of themselves they were three years ago. Their friendship is back-is in the process of healing-but it’s time that they stop trying to fix themselves into the Heungsoo and Namsoon of three years ago. It’s time to be the Heungsoo and Namsoon of three years later. Of now. Of 2013.
Heungsoo lets go of Namsoon’s wrist. “Okay,” he echoes, and one corner of his mouth tugs up into something that could be a smile or a grin but either way, it’s just for Namsoon. Both hands are on Namsoon’s hips now and they pull him even closer against Heungsoo. Namsoon forgets that he even meant to start out by unzipping Heungsoo’s pants. He leans in to kiss Heungsoo again instead.
Namsoon loses track of how many times they have sex after that night.
But he can’t forget the first four times.
Three times as friends.
One time as friends and a little more.