k-pop; filling in the spaces
Title: Filling in the Spaces
Pairing: Wu Fan/Yixing
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. Wu Fan starts to notice the way Yixing fills up the spaces in his apartment just like the way he filled up his heart.
Author’s Note: 1790 words. For the already moved in without noticing square on fluff_bingo. I basically wrote this all in one sitting while I was at work oops because I’ve been craving some cute domestic Kray and this was like wordvomit. Hope you like~ ♥
At first it’s just little things, Yixing leaving his wallet at Wu Fan’s apartment only to call him at six in the morning from his own asking if it’s there and if Wu Fan wouldn’t mind bringing it by when they meet up for lunch later in the day. Or it’s Yixing’s favorite sweatshirt with a silly looking hand-stitched unicorn on the back that finds its way into Wu Fan’s hamper midweek. It’s Yixing’s guitar that gets placed in the corner of his living area because Yixing always tells him that his apartment, much more spacious and open with the stunning city views, is infinitely more inspiring than his own, so he lugs his guitar over to play there instead, and the quiet, soft strains start to greet Wu Fan when he returns from his shift at the hospital more days than not.
It’s Yixing’s pair of maroon jeans that he finds folded in alongside his own. It’s Yixing’s black beanie hanging off a hook in the hallway where Wu Fan usually leaves his keys. It’s a stack of papers that Yixing has to grade for his classes spread out on the coffee table. Yixing’s purple headphones tucked into the notch of his own phone. Yixing’s little stuffed rabbit sitting in the corner of the couch when Wu Fan watches television. Yixing’s shoes in the hall closet, Yixing’s favorite drink in the refrigerator, Yixing’s Macbook on the kitchen counter.
From the moment they met back when Wu Fan was an awkwardly tall, long-limbed teenager and Yixing was bright-eyed with an irrepressible smile, Wu Fan has always been aware of the little ways that Yixing has seeped into his life. Text messages nearly every hour, squiggly little doodles in the corners of Wu Fan’s notes when they studied together, Yixing’s favorite songs filling up his iPod. Thirteen years of friendship easily shifted into two years of romance and he’s been with Yixing for fifteen years, and he should be used to the way that Yixing fills up every nook and cranny of his world.
He’s thought about it before, many times, really, about asking Yixing to just move in with him. He likes waking up to Yixing beside him, soft brown hair splayed against the white sheets. He likes pressing Yixing up against the shower wall and kissing him until he’s breathless. He likes curling his fingers into Yixing’s as he ride the elevator down to the first floor, and he likes waving him goodbye before they head off in different directions to their jobs in the morning. He likes Yixing texting him to ask what he wants for dinner. He likes Yixing telling him he’ll stop by the grocery to pick up milk because they’re out. He likes that Yixing acts like it’s already their place, together, even when it’s not. He likes coming home from a tough night to Yixing’s harmonious voice singing his favorite TVXQ song as he’s cooking in the kitchen. He likes sneaking up behind him and pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, laughing when Yixing jumps and swats at him with a spatula.
Wu Fan likes the idea of living together, of having Yixing everywhere he can. It’s been two years since Yixing had cornered him in his own kitchen, shoving him up against the refrigerator and leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss him. Two years since Yixing grinned at him afterwards, eyes sparkling in mischief as he said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” so easily like he just woke up that morning and decided that yes, today is the day, and went through with it. Two years since Wu Fan had pulled him back for kiss after kiss after kiss because this is exactly what he’d been waiting for, maybe ever since they day that they had met.
The problem now is that he’s not quite sure how to ask him. It should be easy, he thinks, because pretty much everything about his relationship with Yixing is easy, but this somehow isn’t. It’s the next big step, he figures, and Wu Fan’s always been a little nervous about change. Except this is a change he really, really wants, because he doesn’t think there’s anything else that he would like more than Yixing completely moving in with him, instead of just kind-of-sort-of living here like he has for nearly the past year.
His large apartment feels so much more cozy and warm and inviting with Yixing’s panda slippers in the doorway and Yixing’s blue toothbrush in the cup beside the sink, and Yixing’s favorite necklace lying out on the dresser. It’s almost like Yixing lives there already, his side of Wu Fan’s bed ruffled and unkempt, his clothes starting to take over half of Wu Fan’s closet, but there are still nights when Yixing goes back to his own apartment and Wu Fan doesn’t wake up with him beside him, and those mornings somehow end up being the hardest.
It’s a whole week that he ponders over and over about how to ask Yixing to move in with him. A week of Yixing calling him at random points in the day to ask if he’d left his glasses or his favorite shoes or even his own keys back at Wu Fan’s place, and Wu Fan is starting to think that, maybe, it really is time to ask him.
He comes home from a late shift at the hospital on a Wednesday night to find Yixing already there, sitting on the couch and watching an old drama rerun on TV. He’s wrapped up in one of his own blankets, a rather hideous plaid thing that Wu Fan wouldn’t mind if Yixing left at his own place, and he’s clutching his stuffed rabbit to his chest when Wu Fan walks in. He turns quickly to greet him, adorable dimple pressed in his cheek, and Wu Fan leans over the back of the couch to kiss him slowly.
“Welcome home,” Yixing says and, god, Wu Fan really, really likes the sound of that. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want it. Or did you manage to eat at the hospital?”
Wu Fan shakes his head, and Yixing’s eyes grow worried. He scrambles off the couch and into the kitchen, opening up the refrigerator and pulling out tupperware. “I know you’re busy and all, but you have to find some time to eat,” he says disapprovingly. Wu Fan watches as he grabs dishes from the cupboards, half of them Yixing’s own that somehow, when Wu Fan wasn’t looking, ended up in his apartment. He hasn’t been to Yixing’s apartment in a very long time and he wonders vaguely what’s even left over there.
He half-listens to Yixing chide him about properly eating, eyes scanning the kitchen and taking in the owl clock that Yixing had hung over the sink, claiming that Wu Fan’s kitchen was way too boring without it, the post-its on the fridge with Yixing’s clear handwriting, notes about buying detergent, about the party at Chanyeol’s the next weekend, about a student’s concert on the 20th of the month at the university where Yixing teaches. Wu Fan smiles softly to himself and pushes himself off from where he’s leaning against the counter and walks over to Yixing who is staring insistently at the microwave as if that will make it run faster.
He wraps his arms around his waist and leans into him and Yixing makes a soft noise of surprise but chuckles, holding onto Wu Fan’s hands and craning his neck around slightly to look at him curiously.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and Wu Fan takes a deep breath, knowing if he doesn’t just say it now, then he probably never will.
“Move in with me?” he says, sounding far too hopeful for his own liking, but he steps back a little to let Yixing turn around and look at him, eyes big in surprise. The microwave dings behind them, but they both ignore it.
Then Yixing laughs, the bright sound ringing throughout the kitchen, and Wu Fan stares at him blankly, not entirely sure what’s so funny, but a smile tugs at his lips as he watches the beautiful expression on Yixing’s face.
“Idiot,” Yixing says eventually, when his mirth has died down, and he turns around to push the button on the microwave and take out the plate of leftovers. “I kind of already thought I had.”
“What,” Wu Fan says, blinking, and Yixing grins at him.
“Well, half of my stuff is already here,” Yixing says, gesturing around the kitchen. “And I’m here whenever you get home, and we leave for work together, and I come here when I’m done almost everyday instead of going back to my own place.”
“But sometimes you do,” Wu Fan points out, stepping up to him until Yixing is pushed up against the counter. “Sometimes you go back to your own place and you’re not here in the morning and I--”
“You want me to be?” Yixing asks, smiling as he reaches out to curl his fingers into Wu Fan’s shift, thumbs sliding over the buttons.
“Yes,” Wu Fan admits, feeling his face flush a little at the confession. “I would like that a lot.”
“Me, too,” Yixing says, and he yanks Wu Fan down into a kiss by his tie. “You’re really slow, though. I was hoping you’d have asked me like months ago,” he says between kisses.
“You could’ve brought it up yourself, stupid,” Wu Fan grumbles, hands finding Yixing’s waist and pulling him closer, pushing a knee between his thighs.
“It’s your place, though,” Yixing points out, his voice a little breathless. He pushes Wu Fan away and steps around him, then hands him the plate of food. “Here,” he says. “Eat.”
“I’m not really hungry for food anymore,” Wu Fan says, staring straight at Yixing, who blinks for a moment and then pulls a face.
“You’re gross,” he says, flicking him in the forehead. “I’m already rethinking this moving in business.”
Wu Fan laughs, setting the plate back onto the counter and following Yixing out to the living room. “You love me,” he says.
“Not really,” Yixing retorts, huddling himself back into his blanket cocoon, and Wu Fan just grins because there’s no real heat to his voice. He ruffles Yixing’s hair, and Yixing bats at him with his hands, until Wu Fan manages to kiss him again, and Yixing sighs, relaxing into it.
“We can go get the rest of your things tomorrow,” he suggests afterward, and Yixing nods, smiling happily, and Wu Fan feels a light, pleasant warmth sink into his chest.
note: a;skjdgas so much fluff idk. i hope you liked it! thanks for reading~~ ♥ :D
Pairing: Wu Fan/Yixing
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. Wu Fan starts to notice the way Yixing fills up the spaces in his apartment just like the way he filled up his heart.
Author’s Note: 1790 words. For the already moved in without noticing square on fluff_bingo. I basically wrote this all in one sitting while I was at work oops because I’ve been craving some cute domestic Kray and this was like wordvomit. Hope you like~ ♥
At first it’s just little things, Yixing leaving his wallet at Wu Fan’s apartment only to call him at six in the morning from his own asking if it’s there and if Wu Fan wouldn’t mind bringing it by when they meet up for lunch later in the day. Or it’s Yixing’s favorite sweatshirt with a silly looking hand-stitched unicorn on the back that finds its way into Wu Fan’s hamper midweek. It’s Yixing’s guitar that gets placed in the corner of his living area because Yixing always tells him that his apartment, much more spacious and open with the stunning city views, is infinitely more inspiring than his own, so he lugs his guitar over to play there instead, and the quiet, soft strains start to greet Wu Fan when he returns from his shift at the hospital more days than not.
It’s Yixing’s pair of maroon jeans that he finds folded in alongside his own. It’s Yixing’s black beanie hanging off a hook in the hallway where Wu Fan usually leaves his keys. It’s a stack of papers that Yixing has to grade for his classes spread out on the coffee table. Yixing’s purple headphones tucked into the notch of his own phone. Yixing’s little stuffed rabbit sitting in the corner of the couch when Wu Fan watches television. Yixing’s shoes in the hall closet, Yixing’s favorite drink in the refrigerator, Yixing’s Macbook on the kitchen counter.
From the moment they met back when Wu Fan was an awkwardly tall, long-limbed teenager and Yixing was bright-eyed with an irrepressible smile, Wu Fan has always been aware of the little ways that Yixing has seeped into his life. Text messages nearly every hour, squiggly little doodles in the corners of Wu Fan’s notes when they studied together, Yixing’s favorite songs filling up his iPod. Thirteen years of friendship easily shifted into two years of romance and he’s been with Yixing for fifteen years, and he should be used to the way that Yixing fills up every nook and cranny of his world.
He’s thought about it before, many times, really, about asking Yixing to just move in with him. He likes waking up to Yixing beside him, soft brown hair splayed against the white sheets. He likes pressing Yixing up against the shower wall and kissing him until he’s breathless. He likes curling his fingers into Yixing’s as he ride the elevator down to the first floor, and he likes waving him goodbye before they head off in different directions to their jobs in the morning. He likes Yixing texting him to ask what he wants for dinner. He likes Yixing telling him he’ll stop by the grocery to pick up milk because they’re out. He likes that Yixing acts like it’s already their place, together, even when it’s not. He likes coming home from a tough night to Yixing’s harmonious voice singing his favorite TVXQ song as he’s cooking in the kitchen. He likes sneaking up behind him and pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, laughing when Yixing jumps and swats at him with a spatula.
Wu Fan likes the idea of living together, of having Yixing everywhere he can. It’s been two years since Yixing had cornered him in his own kitchen, shoving him up against the refrigerator and leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss him. Two years since Yixing grinned at him afterwards, eyes sparkling in mischief as he said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” so easily like he just woke up that morning and decided that yes, today is the day, and went through with it. Two years since Wu Fan had pulled him back for kiss after kiss after kiss because this is exactly what he’d been waiting for, maybe ever since they day that they had met.
The problem now is that he’s not quite sure how to ask him. It should be easy, he thinks, because pretty much everything about his relationship with Yixing is easy, but this somehow isn’t. It’s the next big step, he figures, and Wu Fan’s always been a little nervous about change. Except this is a change he really, really wants, because he doesn’t think there’s anything else that he would like more than Yixing completely moving in with him, instead of just kind-of-sort-of living here like he has for nearly the past year.
His large apartment feels so much more cozy and warm and inviting with Yixing’s panda slippers in the doorway and Yixing’s blue toothbrush in the cup beside the sink, and Yixing’s favorite necklace lying out on the dresser. It’s almost like Yixing lives there already, his side of Wu Fan’s bed ruffled and unkempt, his clothes starting to take over half of Wu Fan’s closet, but there are still nights when Yixing goes back to his own apartment and Wu Fan doesn’t wake up with him beside him, and those mornings somehow end up being the hardest.
It’s a whole week that he ponders over and over about how to ask Yixing to move in with him. A week of Yixing calling him at random points in the day to ask if he’d left his glasses or his favorite shoes or even his own keys back at Wu Fan’s place, and Wu Fan is starting to think that, maybe, it really is time to ask him.
He comes home from a late shift at the hospital on a Wednesday night to find Yixing already there, sitting on the couch and watching an old drama rerun on TV. He’s wrapped up in one of his own blankets, a rather hideous plaid thing that Wu Fan wouldn’t mind if Yixing left at his own place, and he’s clutching his stuffed rabbit to his chest when Wu Fan walks in. He turns quickly to greet him, adorable dimple pressed in his cheek, and Wu Fan leans over the back of the couch to kiss him slowly.
“Welcome home,” Yixing says and, god, Wu Fan really, really likes the sound of that. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want it. Or did you manage to eat at the hospital?”
Wu Fan shakes his head, and Yixing’s eyes grow worried. He scrambles off the couch and into the kitchen, opening up the refrigerator and pulling out tupperware. “I know you’re busy and all, but you have to find some time to eat,” he says disapprovingly. Wu Fan watches as he grabs dishes from the cupboards, half of them Yixing’s own that somehow, when Wu Fan wasn’t looking, ended up in his apartment. He hasn’t been to Yixing’s apartment in a very long time and he wonders vaguely what’s even left over there.
He half-listens to Yixing chide him about properly eating, eyes scanning the kitchen and taking in the owl clock that Yixing had hung over the sink, claiming that Wu Fan’s kitchen was way too boring without it, the post-its on the fridge with Yixing’s clear handwriting, notes about buying detergent, about the party at Chanyeol’s the next weekend, about a student’s concert on the 20th of the month at the university where Yixing teaches. Wu Fan smiles softly to himself and pushes himself off from where he’s leaning against the counter and walks over to Yixing who is staring insistently at the microwave as if that will make it run faster.
He wraps his arms around his waist and leans into him and Yixing makes a soft noise of surprise but chuckles, holding onto Wu Fan’s hands and craning his neck around slightly to look at him curiously.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and Wu Fan takes a deep breath, knowing if he doesn’t just say it now, then he probably never will.
“Move in with me?” he says, sounding far too hopeful for his own liking, but he steps back a little to let Yixing turn around and look at him, eyes big in surprise. The microwave dings behind them, but they both ignore it.
Then Yixing laughs, the bright sound ringing throughout the kitchen, and Wu Fan stares at him blankly, not entirely sure what’s so funny, but a smile tugs at his lips as he watches the beautiful expression on Yixing’s face.
“Idiot,” Yixing says eventually, when his mirth has died down, and he turns around to push the button on the microwave and take out the plate of leftovers. “I kind of already thought I had.”
“What,” Wu Fan says, blinking, and Yixing grins at him.
“Well, half of my stuff is already here,” Yixing says, gesturing around the kitchen. “And I’m here whenever you get home, and we leave for work together, and I come here when I’m done almost everyday instead of going back to my own place.”
“But sometimes you do,” Wu Fan points out, stepping up to him until Yixing is pushed up against the counter. “Sometimes you go back to your own place and you’re not here in the morning and I--”
“You want me to be?” Yixing asks, smiling as he reaches out to curl his fingers into Wu Fan’s shift, thumbs sliding over the buttons.
“Yes,” Wu Fan admits, feeling his face flush a little at the confession. “I would like that a lot.”
“Me, too,” Yixing says, and he yanks Wu Fan down into a kiss by his tie. “You’re really slow, though. I was hoping you’d have asked me like months ago,” he says between kisses.
“You could’ve brought it up yourself, stupid,” Wu Fan grumbles, hands finding Yixing’s waist and pulling him closer, pushing a knee between his thighs.
“It’s your place, though,” Yixing points out, his voice a little breathless. He pushes Wu Fan away and steps around him, then hands him the plate of food. “Here,” he says. “Eat.”
“I’m not really hungry for food anymore,” Wu Fan says, staring straight at Yixing, who blinks for a moment and then pulls a face.
“You’re gross,” he says, flicking him in the forehead. “I’m already rethinking this moving in business.”
Wu Fan laughs, setting the plate back onto the counter and following Yixing out to the living room. “You love me,” he says.
“Not really,” Yixing retorts, huddling himself back into his blanket cocoon, and Wu Fan just grins because there’s no real heat to his voice. He ruffles Yixing’s hair, and Yixing bats at him with his hands, until Wu Fan manages to kiss him again, and Yixing sighs, relaxing into it.
“We can go get the rest of your things tomorrow,” he suggests afterward, and Yixing nods, smiling happily, and Wu Fan feels a light, pleasant warmth sink into his chest.
note: a;skjdgas so much fluff idk. i hope you liked it! thanks for reading~~ ♥ :D