Chapter Text
‘어디야’
Seongbin only has to glance at the notif to know it's from Timothy. Even his Korean landlord doesn’t text him in Korean. And before he can set his phone back down on the grass and get back to reading his fantasy novel, he gets one ding and another right after.
‘u out back?’
‘hoppin the fence’
Wait. Timothy's here? Right this second? Was the group hanging out today? This is news to Seongbin! He can barely get a sentence typed out before he hears the back gate swing open with a nasty squeal and a thud that gets the dogs in the next yard yapping for a bit. Seongbin glances up and watches Timothy swagger towards him. He’s all long, lean lines wrapped up in too tight jeans and a too short top.
“Sup, dude?” Timothy shouts at him, like they aren’t a handful of yards away from each other. “At least I always know where you are. Unlike my bitch of a brother.”
Which is… a compliment? Or an insult, maybe? “It’s my day off,” Seongbin states.
“You work from home. Every day’s your day off.”
“That’s not how that works,” he bites back.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Timothy didn't have work himself today, based on how fucking distressed and tattered those jeans are and how much effort he put into getting those curls in his hair, but that doesn't explain why he's in Seongbin’s neighborhood. In his yard. On a random Thursday.
“Oh my fucking God.” Timothy usually cares too much about his fits to roll in the grass so the fact that he flops down next to Seongbin is surprising enough. Putting his head on Seongbin's lap and nuzzling his face against Seongbin’s leg like a cat is even crazier. “Can you fucking believe it? Stephen bailed on me last second so I came all the way from Timbuktu for nothing.”
Ahh, that explains things. Well, most of the things, anyway. Seongbin knows Timothy's brother can be a sore spot so he decides not to poke. “Guess you want me to entertain you now.”
“Not just entertain. Comfort.” Timothy reaches up a hand and slowly slides Seongbin’s glasses down his nose and off of his face. Then he puts them on himself. The thin, round frames look good on him. “Make me feel better.”
“How?” Seongbin wonders. Those lenses are prescription but it’s light so he can still read. He starts to flip a page, but–
“Gimme a kiss.”
Seongbin stills. He looks down. Timothy’s got his eyes squeezed shut and his lips smushed together in an exaggerated kissy face. God, he’s such a kidder. Seongbin relaxes but his heart’s still thrashing in his chest. “What do you really want?” He ignores Timothy’s fluttering lashes and smooching noises. “Wanna go somewhere?” He can't think of anything off the top of his head and doesn't want to say something that will bore Timothy. Chase him away. Like the neighborhood cat that finally chills out enough to let Seongbin pet her but will still bolt at the sound of a car horn down the block. “Wanna go to the river?”
Timothy grumbles, “Too far.”
See? He’s bored him already.
Timothy straightens out his face. Shifts around until he makes himself more comfortable, meaning he’s partially coiled around Seongbin’s body like a snake. “Can we go out for drinks or something? Maybe hit up a club after? Seongil hasn't texted me back yet. It's been like five whole minutes. What if he’s dead? There was a stabbing at The Loop the other day.”
Seongbin opens his mouth to speak but it's always hard to get a word in edgewise.
“I’m so pissed, man. I’m blocking Stephen for a week because of this. I get all the way to the fucking Red Line when he calls– Wait. Seongil finally hit me back. He’s almost done at the gym. Needs to hit the showers. Hey hey hey, we can meet him at that sick as fuck bar you took me to.”
“Which one?” All Seongbin feels like he does is show Timothy and his friends bars around here.
“The one with that big ass patio and those bomb-ass Brazilian bun things.”
That narrows it down. “They’re Chilean.”
“Yeah. We can go there! I’m telling him we’re going there. What’s the name of the place?”
“Vicente’s.”
“I don’t fucking know how to spell that. What time is it now? Almost four? We can meet him there at five, right? Okay. He knows the spot we’re talking about. He says he’s got a stop to make and then he’ll head there. How long of a walk is it from here again?”
Seongbin tilts his head back and stares up at the sky. It’s hazy blue and nearly cloudless. The early May wind is crisp and cutting up fierce but the townhouse is blocking most of it on this side. “It’s at the end of the street and around the corner so… not even twenty.”
“Cool. We can chill, then.”
They lapse into silence. Not an awkward one, however.
Seongbin gives Timothy a chance to launch into another conversation but he keeps his mouth shut, surprisingly. Doesn’t even ask him what he’s reading or nothing. Seongbin goes back to his novel but it’s hard for him to focus. He’s painfully aware of the weight of Timothy’s head on his thigh and–holy fuck–he just made eye contact with Timothy when looking down at him so now he’s spooked because that means Timothy was already looking up at him so Seongbin sits there and tries to decide if he's hallucinating. Last year, those first couple months of kinda sorta being forced to become a part of Seongmo’s friend group were downright painful, he felt so excluded at times. Not that the boys treated him bad but the three of them had all been friends for ages and then here he comes, too quiet to really stake a claim in most conversations and too shy to squeeze himself into dogpiles. But the past few months or so, Timothy has been all over him and it’s kind of freaking him out. But in a good way. Like, is this all a delusion? Or is he really that one fan lucking out and scoring backstage time with a hot celeb?
“Hey,” Timothy huffs. “Back this way.” He grabs Seongbin's wrist, tugs it so that the book in Seongbin's hand goes back to keeping the sunlight out of his squinting eyes. “Stay there.”
So Seongbin stays. He goes back to reading. Gets through the end of one chapter and deep into another and is surprised that Timothy remains quiet enough for him to do so, and it’s not until he glances at his phone and catches sight of the time that he realizes why.
“Shit. Hey, wake up,” he says, snapping his book closed. A whole hour has slipped by. “Hey.” He pats Timothy’s cheek. He drops his hand to Timothy’s shoulder and shakes him instead. “It’s ten past five. Wake up.”
“I’m not asleeeeeeep,” Timothy whines. But he clearly was. Practically still is. There’s drool in the corner of his mouth. “Five more minutes, babe.”
Babe? Yeah, he’s still dreaming. “Has Seongil texted yet? Tell him we’re on the way.”
Timothy blinks open unfocused eyes and noisily smacks his lips. “He hasn’t texted,” he says after checking his phone. When he stretches an arm out, he lets loose a deep groan and then he rotates his torso and wraps both arms around Seongbin’s waist. Holds him tight like he’s clinging to a body pillow. His head is now pressed against Seongbin’s stomach, face in his crotch.
“Whoa, dude,” Seongbin breathes out.
Timothy exhales. Hard enough that Seongbin can feel the heat of his breath through the cotton of his sweats.
Seongbin gently nudges Timothy’s chin away from his chubbing dick. “Hey, don’t go back to sleep.”
“Just switching to battery saver mode,” Timothy mutters.
Seongbin reaches over. Pops Timothy on the ass. “Get up. I gotta piss and change clothes.”
Finally, Timothy unravels from around him. He sits up. Brings their faces extremely close together. Stills for one long inhale. Then he kisses Seongbin. Molasses-slow and just as sweet. Even tilts his head so their mouths slot together like puzzle pieces. It’s not the first time Timothy’s randomly kissed him which is why Seongbin doesn’t immediately flinch away. In fact, he’s eager to press his tongue past Timothy’s teeth the second he opens his mouth around a quiet little moan. He swirls his tongue towards the roof of Timothy's mouth and he tastes the sharp tang of whatever candy Timothy had been chewing on before he got here. He swallows it down like he can save it in his stomach.
Seongbin squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t move too fast. Tries not to breathe too hard or moan too loud. Anything to stay in this moment. See, he’s absolutely convinced Timothy is only half-awake right now. Eyes shut, imagining that Seongbin’s someone else. Someone hotter. In his league. So Seongbin'll take this moment from someone else. Keep it for himself. Clamp it between his molars so it can't be taken from him. He'll grip it tight like a dog! Never let go!
Then Timothy pulls back far too fucking soon and Seongbin knows better than to go chasing after his lips. But instead of startling away like he woke up from a dream, Timothy just kind of coos at him and bumps their foreheads together in a moment that was almost sweet but then they both jolt apart as Seongbin’s glasses go sideways and nearly bump them both in the eye from the bad angle.
Timothy laughs aloud. Tilts his head back. “How do you stand these things?”
With the spell broken, Seongbin goes hurtling back into reality. They are late. And they shouldn’t be laying in the grass making out! He grabs Timothy’s arm and hauls him upward. “You fully awake yet?”
“I’m fiiiine,” Timothy childishly whines, but he lets Seongbin lead him by the arm across the yard and up the stairs to the townhouse’s back door.
It’s dark inside. Well, dark in comparison to the brightness outdoors. Seongbin slides his finger up the bridge of his nose only to remember that he doesn’t have his glasses on. He squints instead, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting as they move through the narrow, wood-panelled hall. One of the neighbors has a load of laundry going, Seongbin can hear the machine down in the basement, and someone else is vacuuming, the noise competing with some music playing. By the time they get to the stairs, Timothy’s awake enough to file in behind him without needing to be herded along.
Seongbin’s apartment’s on the second floor and he gets his key out of his pocket to let them in the door.
He doesn’t like having the guys over, a lot of the time. It’s convenient, everyone says. Right off a main bus line and in a decent neighborhood nestled between the Pink and the Green, but it’s old and it’s small and he’s seen where Seongil lives. Seen where Seongmo lives.
“Hey. Seongil wants to know if it’s okay if he brings someone.”
“I guess,” Seongbin replies. Kinda late to ask now, isn’t it? Then again, it’s weird that he’s asking them for permission at all. Seongbin kicks off his old tennis shoes at the door and heads straight to the bathroom on bare feet. He shouts behind him, “He’s always bringing some girl around.” Usually someone he’s met at the gym or through his running club. And it’s definitely never the same face more than two or three times in a row. Seongbin doesn’t even ask for their names anymore. Then again, Timothy’s like that too. Constantly bringing plus ones to friend hangouts. Girls, mainly. Pretty like models. But guys sometimes too. Often enough. Like a reminder. Seongbin shakes the thought from his head. “It would be fucked up to say no, right?”
Timothy’s response is kind of drowned out because, well, Seongbin’s urinating into the toilet and also these old, solid-wood doors block a crazy amount of sound. Doesn’t help that the flush is loud as fuck, either, so Seongbin’s completely taken by surprise when he pulls his sweats back up, gets in front of the mirror and sees Timothy right behind him, leaning against the wall next to the open door. Seongbin can’t even cuss because he bites his fucking tongue instead. He can’t help but wonder how long Timothy’s been in here. If he’d been standing there quietly watching Seongbin shake his half-hard dick to get those last little drops from out the slit before he flushed. “Did you need the toilet?”
“Nah.”
A beat. “Need the sink?”
“Nah.”
Seongbin stares at him in the mirror, confused.
Timothy doesn’t look up from his phone. “Uh oh. Seongil’s acting real suspect. I think he’s bringing a serial killer.”
“What’s he saying?”
“Specifically making me specifically promise not to say anything specifically when they get there.”
Oh. “She must be way taller than him, then.” Seongbin wets his hands under the faucet and then uses his moist fingers to somewhat fail at styling his flat, straight hair. Welp. He’ll just put on a beanie. And if they’re gonna be out, he’ll put on his fave jacket. That means he should wear those jeans. Yup!
“Maybe she’s, like, more buff than he is.”
“A possibility.”
“Maybe she fucking hates cardio.”
“Good God.” Seongbin turns away from the sink and starts towards the door but Timothy stops him in his tracks with a hand on his waist. Two of his fingers find their way up the hem of Seongbin’s shirt and press gently against his hip bone. Seongbin looks down, thoughts blurring, only able to focus on the slim little bracelet around Timothy’s wrist. The veins beneath his skin. Then Seongbin looks up into Timothy’s face.
They are standing quite close together and Seongbin braces himself for another out-of-the-fucking-blue kiss or whatever but, instead, Timothy just… slides his hand out from under Seongbin’s shirt, takes Seongbin’s glasses off and props them back on Seongbin’s nose.
He missed an ear, so Seongbin has to readjust them and then blink rapidly until his eyes focus. There’s also a fingerprint smudge on the lens so he takes them off, wipes them on his shirt, puts them back on.
Then they just stare at each other for a long, awkward enough moment that Seongbin feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He suddenly asks, “Is Seongil saying anything about us being late?”
Blessedly, Timothy puts his phone back in front of his face. “Nah. I’m guessing they’re still on the Green. He said he’d say when they’re a block away.”
Seongbin leaves the bathroom in a brand new hurry and he would have shut his bedroom door to change clothes but Timothy’s right on his heels when he steps in and then the guy flings himself across Seongbin’s bed, not seeming to mind the pile of clothes.
So is he just gonna lay there and watch Seongbin strip?
See. This is what’s so weird about him. Maybe since Seongbin never says anything, Timothy just doesn’t know he’s doing this kind of shit. Or maybe since he’s on his phone, he thinks it doesn’t count? Whatever. He gets to his dresser and finds the exact jeans he’s thinking about in the third drawer he tries. Then, trying not to think too hard about it, he yanks his sweats off, and then spends about ten perilous seconds extremely self-conscious about his underwear being up his asscrack and if he should tug them out.
“Hey. We’re matching!” Timothy suddenly exclaims.
Half bent over to get his jeans on, Seongbin glances across the room at him. He’s just about to ask what Timothy means when he realizes the dude’s gesturing towards his own crotch. Seongbin looks down–nervous–and watches as Timothy sticks two fingers into one of the holes in his jeans and suggestively stretches the frayed hem of it to the left juuuuust enough to show off that he’s also wearing bright red underwear. “No lace?” Seongbin quips, breathless.
Timothy blows a raspberry. “I was supposed to be hanging out with my brother today. Remember? Why? Want me to wear lace next time I come over?”
Seongbin rolls his eyes. God, what a joker. “Do whatever you want, man.” He goes back to working his jeans up his lean thighs. Wiggles his hips to get them the rest of the way up.
“Goddamn, them things skin-tight,” Timothy comments as Seongbin gets a studded belt through the loops. “If you don’t want me sneaking a hand in under the table, you can just say so.”
Seongbin looks over his shoulder at him. He tries to make himself believe Timothy’s on the phone or something but the dude’s looking right at him, not even blinking as Seongbin takes off his sweat-damp shirt and goes for some deodorant out of the top drawer.
“Easy access,” Timothy announces, pointing to all of the shredded holes in his own jeans that expose the pale meat of his thighs, the thin layer of dark hair on them. “You can fit your whole hand up this one. To cop a feel, you know.”
Does he mean now, or… “Wait. At the bar?”
“Yeah.”
Is he… joking? “You serious, man?”
“Yeah.” But he’s grinning like he’s joking. Like he’s waiting to point and laugh at him for falling for it.
“You’re crazy.” A nervous chuckle leaps out of Seongbin’s mouth. No, it’s more than a chuckle. It’s an unexpected guffaw that chokes him up and gets a bit of snot loose in a nostril so he has to rush to his bedside table for Kleenex.
“Little Bin likes the idea, though,” says Timothy. He then sits up off the bed enough so he can literally poke Seongbin in the dick which spooks him because he kinda didn’t realize this dumb conversation had him hard. But also, the unexpected touch sends tingles up his spine. All the way to the back of his neck. And he hates that Timothy’s looking him right in his eye when he involuntarily shudders.
“Jesus, man,” Seongbin grumbles, looking down at the unmistakable shape curving down towards his left thigh beneath the denim.
Timothy pokes him in the dick again. Well, more like squeezes it with his hand. Seongbin spins away from his groping touch.
“You making fun of me?”
“No. I’m hard too,” Timothy comments, tracking him with his eyes as he crosses the room in a flustered huff.
Seongbin looks at him and it’s like the guy was waiting for eye contact. As if he now has permission, Timothy flattens his hand over his crotch, uses a finger to trace up and down and up and down the length of his dick. He then parts his plump, pink lips and lets out a crazy, high-pitched whimper that really can’t be mistaken for anything else.
The sound rings in Seongbin’s head. Makes him go dizzy. “Fuck.” Jeez, can he chill? Dude’s taking the bit a bit far, ain’t he? Seongbin hurriedly deflects, “Can we have drinks with our friends first?”
“Fine.” Timothy drops his hand from his crotch with a defeated sigh. “Hate I didn’t jump you in the bathroom.”
What? “We don’t have time,” Seongbin says quickly, wondering what the fuck kind of game this is.
“You could have fingered me real quick or something. Damn.”
Is there any other option but to just stand there as still as a statue? The fact that it’s not even the first time Timothy’s propositioned him like this is also kind of wild, now that Seongbin thinks back. But maybe Timothy’s like this with all of his friends? Maybe Seongbin’s only recently earned the title which is why they’ve only recently wound up doing shit like this. Playing shit out like they’re reading off some wild script.
Maybe they’re just pranks.
“Fucking hornball,” Seongbin hisses.
Fortunately, Timothy gets a notification and he puts all of his attention back on his phone, saving Seongbin some embarrassment. Freed from the weight of Timothy’s stare, he smacks his own cheeks repeatedly so that he feels the stinging heat of pain more than the stirred-up warmth of lust. He slides open the door to his closet. Blindly reaches in. Snags a big shirt from off a hanger. It’s a vintage Black Sabbath tee and he’s always liked how it fit on him. Always loved the softness of the cotton. How his skin looks next to this shade of purple. He finishes the look off with his leather jacket, a big beanie and a thick silver necklace off of his shelf.
He heads out of his bedroom and is kind of surprised that Timothy quietly follows him out of the room and smacks his flat ass only once on the walk back to the front door. He shoves socked feet into a pair of his simpler boots and gives himself one last look-over in the wall mirror next to the door before he grabs the knob and swings it open.
“Oh, hey!” Timothy’s whole face lights up as Seongbin locks the door behind them. “Holy shit!”
“What? What?”
“Seongmo’s gonna be there too.”