Off to Bed with You
1. Yixing woke up with his back pressed to Jongin’s chest and the other’s arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Knowing that the younger had a long day ahead of him, Yixing wriggled carefully to slip out of the embrace without disturbing Jongin. But before he could get out, Jongin’s arms tightened, pulling Yixing back into bed.
“No,” mumbled Jongin, voice thick with sleep.
“I’m just going to go shower,” Yixing assured him soothingly. “You get a few more minutes of sleep. I’ll wake you when I’m done.”
“No,” repeated Jongin, his tone gaining a whiney quality the way it always did when he wanted his way but was too out of it to maintain appearances (a properly awake Jongin would deny his ability to whine, but Yixing knew better). “Stay.”
Defeated (a sleepy Jongin could not be reasoned with), Yixing turned to face Jongin, chuckling softly at the younger’s wrinkled nose. Leaning in, Yixing pecked his nose and then peppered small kisses on the younger’s face until his grouchy expression smoothed out. Yixing smiled when Jongin’s grip slackened once more, indicating that he was back in dreamland, and settled closer to him contentedly.
“Just five more minutes then,” Yixing whispered, allowing his eyes to drift shut too.
2. “I don’t see why you have to go grocery shopping this early in the morning,” Jongin complained as he trailed after Yixing into the market. “And on a Saturday too.”
“Because there’s a sale,” Yixing explained patiently for the nth time, scanning their list of groceries. “And food is always fresher the earlier we go. Less people have had the chance to stick their fingers in things,” he added when he caught sight of Jongin moodily poking the spikes on a durian. Jongin withdrew his hands and stuffed them into his pockets when Yixing smacked them away.
“But why do I have to come along?” Jongin grumbled as Yixing pushed their cart further into the produce section. “I was sleeping.”
“You’re not sleeping now,” Yixing shot back cheerily, filling a bag with tomatoes. He handed the bag to Jongin. “Put this in the cart, please.”
“Because you woke me up!” groaned Jongin, scowling viciously at the bag. He put the bag back with the other tomatoes. “I hate tomatoes.” Yixing gave him a look, and Jongin reluctantly put the bag into the cart with a petulant, “You’re eating all these.”
Yixing turned his attention back to picking out apples. Jongin rubbed his eyes and blinked blearily to clear the sleep away, but after several minutes of fruitless (har har) blinking, he gave up and shuffled over to Yixing, resting his forehead on the older’s shoulder and allowing his eyes to shut. Within seconds, he felt Yixing card his fingers gently through his hair.
“Hey,” said Yixing softly. “If you’re tired, you can sit in the cart.”
“Really?” Jongin perked up immediately and rushed to clamber into the cart before Yixing could say another word, pulling his knees to his chest to fit in the small space.
Yixing snorted at Jongin’s antics and leaned over to pull the hood of Jongin’s jacket over his eyes. “You big baby.”
Jongin caught his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm of Yixing’s hand. “Your baby,” he agreed before letting go and snuggling the bag of tomatoes in his arms, blissfully ignoring Yixing’s good-natured eye roll at his greasiness.
3. Ten seconds before class started, Jongin burst through the doors and collapsed in the seat next to Yixing, ignoring the disapproving look from the professor.
“Close call,” Yixing remarked casually as Jongin pulled out his pen and notebook.
“Took a nap. Sehun thought it would be funny if he turned off my alarm.” Jongin scrunched up his nose and rubbed his eyes.
“And then you…?” prompted Yixing.
A slow, sleepy smirk spread across Jongin’s face. “I soaked all his boxers in water and stuck them in the freezer. Naturally.”
“Naturally,” repeated Yixing with a roll of his eyes as he jotted down what the professor was saying. “Your maturity astounds me.”
Jongin shrugged. “Like you’re so mature yourself.” He fought back a yawn as the professor droned on about something or another. Picking up his pen, he stared at his blank notebook page and contemplated actually taking notes for a moment before putting it down and announcing, “I’m going back to sleep. Wake me if something interesting happens.”
Before Yixing could respond, Jongin plopped his head down with his notebook as a pillow and promptly knocked out. Yixing frowned, slightly miffed that he was left to brave the professor’s monotonous lecture alone yet again. The whole point of taking the class together was to keep each other awake.
Yixing glowered balefully at the other’s peaceful sleeping face. What a loser. Digging into his bag, Yixing searched until he found the item he was seeking: a fat, black permanent marker. With a sly smile upon his lips, Yixing set about drawing a masterful handlebar mustache on Jongin’s face.
4. A bell tinkled softly when Yixing opened the door of the café. He did a quick scan of the interior and spotted Jongin holed up in the corner table, nursing a large cup of coffee. Yixing quickly made his way over and smiled as he settled down in his seat across from the other, who nodded lethargically at him.
“Sorry I’m late,” Yixing apologized. “The professor held us back for a few minutes. How was dance practice?”
“Tiring,” grunted Jongin, shaking his bangs out of his face.
Yixing reached across the table and snagged the cup away from Jongin to take a sip, earning a whine of protest from the latter. “Poor baby,” cooed Yixing, pinching Jongin’s cheek teasingly. Jongin slapped his hand away irritably and took back his coffee.
“Carry me home,” he mumbled pitiably. “I hurt everywhere.”
“Alright, princess,” Yixing chuckled. “How do you want me?”
That seemed to revitalize Jongin some. “Writhing under me with your legs around my waist.” Jongin grinned sleepily, eyes glinting. “Then maybe bent over the counter after a nap with plenty of spooning.”
Yixing snorted, but obligingly bent down so Jongin could get on his back.
“Are you seriously going to carry me?” asked Jongin, gingerly climbing on and wrapping his arms around Yixing’s neck. “You’re kind of a twig.”
Yixing groaned as he stood up with no little effort. “Only halfway,” he gasped, laboriously making his way to the door amidst the other customers’ stares. “Then I think you’re going to have to carry me to my bed when my back gives out.”
5. Yixing growled with frustration as the right words alluded him yet again. He viciously stabbed the backspace button and erased the last sentence he wrote, leaving the word document blank. Blinking furiously to alleviate the heaviness of his eyelids, Yixing determinedly pushed his glasses up his nose and typed out yet another sentence. So intent he was on those little black words on the screen that he did not notice the rustling of sheets or the footsteps until a chin landed on top of his head.
Yixing started. “Jongin, you’re up. Did I wake you?”
“Yes,” said Jongin bluntly.
“Here, I’ll turn off the light so you can-”
“Why are you still up?” asked Jongin tiredly. “It’s two in the morning, and you have to be up for your class at nine.”
“Essay.” Yixing gestured hopelessly at his laptop. “The words just aren’t coming out.”
“Then come to bed.”
“But the essay-” Yixing objected.
“Is probably not due for at least a week and can wait until you’re not half-delirious from sleep deprivation,” Jongin cut in. He reached over and removed Yixing’s glasses, setting them on his desk and shutting his laptop. “Come now.”
“But I need to get a head start,” Yixing protested weakly as Jongin took his hands and led him to the bed.
Jongin did not reply but instead slid beneath the covers and stared at Yixing expectantly. One look at Jongin with his half-lidded eyes and sleep-mussed hair broke what little resolve Yixing had left. Yixing gave a sigh of defeat and slipped in next to Jongin, who had a faint, triumphant smile on his lips.
“Goodnight,” whispered Yixing as Jongin pulled the covers over the both of them.
Even in the darkness, Yixing could see Jongin’s smile widen just a bit. “Goodnight.”