Chapter Text
It’s already frustrating enough studying for an upcoming test in a noisy, crowded cafeteria without people bumping into him every other minute just to get across. If only the library wasn’t just as cramped with students. Jongin clenches his jaw, holding back a curse, when someone collides into his elbow, forcing a skid mark of blue ink across his notes. He clutches his ball-pen tightly in his fist, nostrils flaring with a deep inhale. And then the perpetrator has the nerve to turn around and ask Jongin if one of the chairs is free to take. Without apologising. How dare he?
“No.” Jongin stares him down with a withering look and goes back to writing out his Integrating Factor equation.
He looks up from his notes again when he feels a tap on his shoulder. A girl stares at him with a nervous smile. She’s kind of cute.
“Hey, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if I could take this chair?” she asks.
This can’t be happening, Jongin thinks. In the past twenty minutes he’s been here, this is the fifth time someone has asked him for one of the chairs at his table. He relented the first two times, but now he’s hoarding out of spite. It’s a headache, to be honest. At this point, he wants to snap, “just take them all!”
“Hey, Jieun, are you coming?” a guy—the one who had a meet-cute with Jongin’s elbow a few minutes ago—calls out from the adjacent table.
“Just a sec’,” the girl says, and turns her attention back to Jongin. “Please,” she adds.
“You can have the one I’m sitting on, too, while you’re at it,” Jongin says with a bitchy smile.
“T-that’s not necessary,” the girl, Jieun or whatever, stammers. “I just need one.”
“Just take it.” Jongin waves her away—anything to be left alone at this point. Out of curiosity, he glances up to see her drag the chair to the table—two conjoined tables, actually—across from him where over a dozen boisterous students are clustered together. He could have his starting eleven with benchers to spare with the sheer number of people in that group. His eyes narrow in disbelief when he sees a couple of empty chairs scattered at their table. Why do they keep asking him for one, then?
“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice whispers too close to Jongin’s ear, hands on the back of his chair, making him stiffen. He’s hit by an all too familiar scent of expensive cologne that makes his eyes flutter as he breathes in.
He forces himself to snap out of it and scowls. “Chanyeol…”
“Jongin,” Chanyeol croons back in greeting, and Jongin can practically hear the shit-eating grin in his tone.
“I should have known we were going to bump into each other when the universe was being extra annoying today. You’re like the devil: nothing goes right when you’re around.”
Chanyeol chuckles and his warm breath ghosts Jongin’s sensitive neck, sending a small shiver through him. Jongin blushes when he remembers Chanyeol trailing kisses up the length of his spine. It’s difficult to go back to integrating his equations after that.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Chanyeol says, amused. The slight rumble to his voice goes straight to Jongin’s cock.
“Fuck off. If you want a chair, just take it—I’m trying to study.”
“Hey, Chanyeol! Are you coming or what? We have a place for you,” a voice interjects, followed by a chorus of similar nonsense, calling him over to the conjoined tables. It’s like they’ve all been waiting for Chanyeol’s arrival. Jongin hides his disappointment when he feels Chanyeol pull away, but he doesn’t glance up from his notes.
“No, I’m good. I already know where I want to sit,” Chanyeol says.
Jongin hears the scrape of a chair, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Chanyeol sit down beside him.
“Didn’t I tell you to go away,” Jongin says, making a show of shuffling through his notes. But the corner of his lips twitch to hold back a pleased smile.
“You did, and I chose not to.”
“What do you want, then?” Jongin demands impatiently.
“You.”
Jongin looks up sharply to stare at Chanyeol and his stupid pink hair cropped close at the sides. Combat-booted feet plant firmly on the ground as Chanyeol tips his chair back onto two legs. He exudes calm confidence with his hands interlaced in his lap.
“Go out with me,” he says.
Jongin frowns. “You know I’m not interested in guys, especially my rivals.”
“Then what about last week?”
“That was…a lapse in judgement.”
“Oh, really?” Chanyeol quirks a brow. That cocky fucker.
Jongin stares back defiantly. “Yes. I was hoping you’d finally leave me alone after you’d had your fill, but clearly not.”
Chanyeol leans in close again to say in a low drawl, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you were purring in my ear.”
Jongin’s jaw drops in indignant disbelief. Chanyeol just smirks and gets up to head over to his little fan club. Obviously, he has his pick of seating and chooses to sit right across so he has a clear view of Jongin. He continues to simper, tapping his ring-adorned fingers against the table-top.
Jongin casts a stubborn gaze down to his notes, scribbling furiously.
—
“He keeps glancing over.”
Jongin doesn’t need to look up to know who Seulgi is talking about. He keeps his foot propped on the bench and finishes retying his laces. Past the halfway line, on the other side of the pitch, their opponents are keeping up with their own practice drills.
With an elbow on her knee, Seulgi props her chin in hand and smiles up at Jongin. “I think Chanyeol really likes you,” she teases.
Jongin huffs, straightening up. “Too bad because I don’t like him.”
“Why not…? He’s really sweet, not to mention sexy—just look how fit he is.”
“Oh, Jongin knows exactly how fit he is,” Sooyoung says as she settles a step above Seulgi on the bleachers and smoothens out the deep-red skirt of her cheer uniform. Seulgi shares a look with Sooyoung and they both break out in giggles.
Jongin rolls his eyes. “He’s nice to everyone but me. He’s got a real hardon for humiliating me and my team.”
“And what about you?” Sooyoung challenges.
“What?”
“I think you like teasing him back just as much. It’s a game between you two at this point.”
“Don’t worry guys,” Joohyun says, coming up from behind Jongin. She pats him on the shoulder sympathetically as she slips past him to join the other two cheerleaders on the bleachers. “He’s just a little embarrassed that he caved in first and now he’s trying to regain control by acting uninterested.”
Jongin scowls, wanting to throw his hands up in exasperation. Suddenly everyone has something to say regarding his situation. A retort sits at the tip of his tongue; he has half a mind to tell them all to mind their business.
But then Seulgi squeals, “Oh, shit, he’s coming over.”
Jongin goes rigid. He has to force himself not to turn around and look. Joohyun and Sooyoung don’t share the same inhibitions as him, and openly stare as Chanyeol saunters over to them.
“Are you lost?” Jongin calls loudly without a backward glance as Chanyeol nears with a subtle crunch of rye grass under cleats. “Your team’s over there.”
“I just stopped by to say hello,” Chanyeol says cheekily, stopping beside Jongin. “It would be rude not to greet the hosts, and well—you’re the captain.” He has his hands clasped behind his back in a demure stance. He’s surely up to no good.
Jongin narrows his eyes. “You cornered me just this morning.”
“Hey, Chanyeol!” Sooyoung greets with more enthusiasm than necessary.
“Congrats on being awarded top-scorer last tourney,” Seulgi adds, and Jongin immediately turns his glare on her. Chanyeol became top-scorer while facing them in the final. He had been tied for the award until he scored the only goal of the match last minute with a header and ended what would have been Jongin’s remarkable fourth clean-sheet in ten games as well as his team’s title run.
“Way to fraternise with the enemy,” Jongin says.
“Don’t you suppose that’s a tad bit dramatic?” Seulgi retorts.
“Boys.” Joohyun rolls her eyes and exchanges an exasperated look with Seulgi. They both snicker knowingly, leaning into each other sideways. Girls, Jongin thinks with equal exasperation.
“I agree with Jongin,” Yerim says, stepping closer to them. So she’s been following their conversation as well. Jongin finds it hard to mind when she’s on his side.
“Yerim?! Not you, too!”
“What?” She shrugs at Seulgi. “He knocked us out of the final.” Thank you! At least someone has team-pride.
Chanyeol looks on, amused. He faces Jongin. “Well, here I was hoping you’d be willing to fraternise with the enemy. You still haven’t given me an answer yet.”
Jongin finally turns to him with his arms crossed. “Have you taken multiple balls to the head since then? Like I said, I’m not interested in going out with my rivals.”
“But you’ve already changed your stance on men. I still have a chance, then.” Chanyeol grins. He doesn’t even bother phrasing it like a question. Jongin flushes. Entitled jerk. “We could grab something to eat before the game, so how about it?”
“Stop trying to distract me from our match up! It’s not going to work.”
Chanyeol tilts his head. “Afterwards then. I’ll take you somewhere expensive, even. It’ll be my treat.”
“Real charming, asshole, but I can pay for my own meal. But if you’re so insistent on wasting your money on me, you’re more than welcome to. Only if we win, though, so make sure to lose.” Jongin gives him his most sarcastic, tight-lipped smile.
“If that’s the way you want to win,” Chanyeol snorts. “Though, I completely understand if you think you can’t beat us otherwise—self-awareness is an admirable quality after-all.” He winks.
Jongin bristles, hands moving to his hips. “Are you trying to piss me off?” His temper usually intimidates people into backing off, but Chanyeol continues to stare at him like he’s a hackled kitten.
“No,” Chanyeol replies innocently though he’s anything but.
Jongin sticks his nose up. “We don’t need you to throw the game to thrash you and your team. You’ll see.”
“If you’re so confident, how about a bet? Winner gets whatever they want. Within reason of course.”
Skeptical, Jongin raises a brow. “Just between the two of us?”
Chanyeol nods. “Just between the two of us.”
As the captain of his team, Jongin knows he probably shouldn’t be getting into petty, childish games with Chanyeol, but it’s like he can’t help himself; he has to meet him head-on. “Oh, I plan to win so I accept your challenge. Last season’s final was a fluke so don’t get too cocky.”
Chanyeol’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “Or so you say. Just remember”—his grin sharpens as he leans in to whisper lowly in Jongin’s ear—“when I win, I plan on taking you however I want the next time we fuck.”
Not if, but when.
Chanyeol is already pulling away with a satisfied smirk before Jongin can get his mouth to function again.
“Good luck. You’ll definitely need it,” Chanyeol throws back over his shoulder as he starts toward his teammates.
Quickly shutting his slackened jaw, Jongin stares after Chanyeol’s retreating back with a frown, angry that he let Chanyeol have the last word again. Chanyeol’s teammates are all still staring with varied expressions, most of them amused by their captain’s infatuation with Jongin. Though, Jongin doesn’t like the way some of them leer, trying to measure him up. He can’t wait to defeat them.
“Jongin, you’re all red!” Seulgi points out with a laugh.
“What did he say?” Sooyoung asks, curious.
“Probably something dirty,” Yerim stage-whispers in response. Joohyun giggles behind her hand.
“I hate you all,” Jongin grumbles.
—
The cheerleaders are real rumour-mongers, and the news of the bet manages to reach his squad. They’ve been teasing him all afternoon.
“We need to win today, guys. Cap’s ass is literally on the line,” Baekhyun ribs him in the locker-room just before the game, and receives an up-hand to the back of his head from Minseok for his effort. That doesn’t stop the rest of Jongin’s teammates from guffawing and joining in on the teasing.
“The defense has to stop Park from shooting his shot, for the captain.”
“We can expect a clean-sheet tonight. Jongin hates him too much.”
“Depends on who’s more desperate. Chanyeol definitely wants to ‘score’!”
“The ball is in your court, Cap!”
There’s raucous laughter followed by more crude jokes involving the ball and the net. Jongin hangs his head in shame and covers his face with his hands. “I don’t know any of you,” he mumbles into his palms.
Hands cup the back of his neck and shoulder, rocking him sideways. It’s Sehun. “I didn’t know you were into posh assholes, Jongin,” he chuckles. “I mean, Park’s a monster, so I guess you could do worse.”
Jongin lifts his face up from his hands to glare at his nosy teammates. “You’re the bunch of assholes.” It makes them all laugh again.
“Why don’t we believe you?” Jongdae teases.
The guys pipe down when the coach walks in with a stern look in his eyes. “Alright, boys, you’ve had your fun. It’s time to gear up for a win. This is our first official match up, and it’s going to set the tone for the rest of the season so make sure to get those three-points. I hope you haven’t forgotten how it felt to lose that final.”
There’s a passionate chorus of, “No, sir!”
“Good. Now take those emotions with you to the pitch and let’s win this game! This is our season, boys. Don’t forget that.”
—
As captains, Jongin and Chanyeol convene with the head referee while the rest of the players file onto the pitch. Chanyeol looks Jongin up and down appreciatively as he approaches, and smirks. Jongin holds back the urge to stick his tongue out at him.
The referee finishes his deliverance and flips the coin, letting it fall to the ground.
“Heads,” Chanyeol calls while the coin is still in mid-air.
It’s tails. Jongin allows himself to feel satisfied. This is a good sign.
The referee stares at him expectantly. “Right,” Jongin picks. Call it superstition but they’ve won all of their games so far when they’ve started from the right-side of the pitch. And they’re not about to lose now if it can be helped.
When the referee backs up, out of earshot, Chanyeol says, “When this match is over, meet me outside the visitors’ locker-room. Won’t be the first time you’ll come crawling to me after you’ve lost.”
Jongin could’ve popped a vein right then and there. He has to remind himself to keep his cool; their fans are watching, not to mention the administration. His lips twitch with the effort to hold his smile intact as he sticks out his hand. “Just shut up and shake my hand, you bastard,” he hisses through his teeth, still grinning.
Chanyeol chuckles and clasps his hand. There’s a roaring cheer and applause from the stands as the two opposing captains shake hands. The fans love this stuff—good sportsmanship and all.
“Break a leg,” Jongin says, and tightens his grip painfully. “I mean it.”
Chanyeol’s lips curve up at the corner. He continues to stare into Jongin’s eyes. “You’re fired up. That’s good.” His voice goes all soft, and that along with his intense, all-consuming gaze sends Jongin’s stomach in knots.
He pulls away, grumbling a “shut up” under his breath. His heart thunders in his chest as he tugs on his gloves. Why did Chanyeol have to be so fucking handsome?
—
When the penalty is called, it’s like Jongin’s worst expectations for the match playing out. Chanyeol is absolutely elated by the turn of events and steps up to the spot with waves of cockiness rolling off of him.
Jongin takes a defensive stance at the net, one foot on the line, and tries to appear as big as possible. He wants to scoff; it’s a final face-off between him and Chanyeol, and it’s just his luck that, with three minutes left on the clock, this penalty will decide the fate of the match. It’s the perfect opportunity for Chanyeol’s team to break free from the two-two draw.
The referee blows his whistle, and Jongin meets Chanyeol’s eyes again. The stare-off feels like it lasts a whole minute, gazes wavering but never breaking eye-contact. Chanyeol has a strong right foot, so there’s a high probability he’ll aim for the left side of the net. Jongin angles his body subtly to the right to goad Chanyeol into taking the left corner.
A hint of a smile plays at Chanyeol’s lips. He takes a step back, hands on his hips, and inhales sharply before releasing.
One.
Two.
Three quick steps and he’s kicking the ball.
It’s a risk but Jongin jumps left a split-second before Chanyeol’s foot meets the ball. It works because the tips of his gloved fingers touch the ball as it flies over. But to his frustration, it’s not enough; Chanyeol’s shot is an absolute rocket and the ball hits the back of the net with force.
Chest heaving, Jongin picks himself up and watches as Chanyeol’s teammates jump over him in celebration. Chanyeol looks back at him and winks. “I won,” he mouths.
Son of a bitch. Jongin curses and slams his palm against the goal post in frustration. “Get it together! Focus on the next play!” he yells at his teammates. They look dejected, especially the defense for the sloppy effort. “Get back at them! There’s still time on the clock, c’mon!”
—
It’s a three-two loss.
—
Shit.
Jongin takes a deep-breath and raps his fingers against the metal door-jamb to grab attention. He’s not about to go yelling Chanyeol’s name across the room. He could’ve texted Chanyeol to meet him outside if he’d just bothered to save Chanyeol’s number.
So he’s here now.
Wolf-whistles go around. Jongin rolls his eyes at them. Nobody knows the exact details of the bet, just that the winner gets something they want. But it’s very obvious what their captain wants. Jongin refuses to be embarrassed about it. Choi Woo-bin, the opposing goalkeeper, sizes him up as he passes Jongin out into the dimly lit veranda.
“Hey, Chanyeol, look who’s here for you,” Woo Jiho says, nodding his head toward the entrance where Jongin is leaning against the jamb.
Chanyeol looks up from where he’s seated on the bench. Freshly showered and in the middle of changing, he’s bare-torsoed with slicked-back wet hair dripping droplets of water onto his broad shoulders. Jongin flushes when Chanyeol’s surprised gaze lands on him, suddenly feeling unsure of himself; it makes him want to fidget. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check when he notices that Chanyeol’s trousers are undone, zipped up only halfway. He blushes hard when his mind takes him back to the last time Chanyeol’s pants were like that, and keeps his eyes trained on Chanyeol’s face instead.
Chanyeol adopts an indolent smirk, hands resting on his splayed thighs. He not at all bothered by his state of undress. “Are you here to come home with me?”
Someone hoots, the rest giggle and snicker. “You wish.” Jongin finally glances away with a snort, pretending to take in the interior of the visitors’ locker-room as if he hasn’t already seen it multiple times before. He meets Chanyeol’s gaze again as he says, “I just came here to say congrats on the win. It was well-deserved.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Chanyeol admits, losing all traces of humour. It’s a silent warning to his teammates to be better next time, and the locker-room goes uncharacteristically quiet.
“Mhm, don’t be mistaken, though,” Jongin adds. “My team will return the favour when we face each other again next month.”
“We wouldn’t expect any less,” Chanyeol says with a pleased smile. There’s a glint of a challenge-accepted in his eyes. “Wait.” He suddenly makes to move. “Let me walk you to your car.” He gets up to tug on a black button-up and quickly finishes dressing up, tucking his shirt into his trousers. “Alright, boys,” he starts as he grabs his duffle-bag from his locker, “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow. Tell coach I’m leaving on my own.” He raises a hand to bid them farewell as he follows after Jongin, and gets boisterous responses in return, some bordering cheeky.
“Oh. We see how it is.”
“He’s a beaut, captain!”
“Don’t stay up too late!”
The voices drown out as Chanyeol shuts the metal door behind him. “I’m sorry about them,” he says, turning to face Jongin.
Jongin scoffs. “Don’t be. ’S not like my teammates are any better…Come to think of it, it’s all your fault for blabbering about the bet in front of the cheerleaders so apologise away.”
Chanyeol huffs out a small laugh. “I guess this is a bad time to tell you they already have their own bet going. It’s whether or not you’re going to say yes to a date with me…You know, you can end it right here and now. So, will you go out with me?”
Jongin crosses his arms and raises a brow. “Are you seriously asking me out after my team just lost to yours?”
Chanyeol loosens a sigh through his nose and runs a nervous hand through his hair. It’s…endearing. “I guess not. My bad, I know this isn’t very romantic. I’ll try again.”
Jongin snorts. “You already know my answer.”
Chanyeol nods solemnly. “I do.”
“And I already know you’re not gonna give up that easily.”
That makes Chanyeol smile. “You know what they say, good things never do come easy.”
"Yeah..."
They both pause, staring at each other. Chanyeol’s gaze drops to Jongin’s plump lips. After a moment’s hesitation, he raises his hand to Jongin’s face, pressing the tips of his fingers to Jongin’s cheek.
“Speaking of—you know, I’m surprised you showed up. I didn’t think you’d be so eager to meet up with me.”
Jongin shrugs, gaze unwavering. “If I hadn’t, that’d be me accepting our defeat and being—I don’t know…satisfied with the way the score turned out. But this—this is me not backing down…And maybe…maybe I’m a little bit curious about what you had to say,” he says, looking into Chanyeol’s eyes and wetting his lips. He suddenly feels embarrassed that he admitted as much.
“Just say it, you wanted to see me,” Chanyeol grins, giving him a way out, and Jongin takes it.
“Sure.”
Jongin thinks for sure Chanyeol is going to try and kiss him. But then a taunting smirk appears on Chanyeol’s face as he digs his thumb into Jongin’s lower lip. He’s no longer the bashful Chanyeol he was a few seconds ago. “You’re such a good boy, though; always at my beck and call,” he teases, voice so smooth and deep, dropping to a sultry low.
The deriding praise makes Jongin’s cock twitch in his pants. He swallows back the urge to suck Chanyeol’s thumb into his mouth even though he knows it would drive Chanyeol crazy and give him the upper hand. Instead, he smacks Chanyeol’s hand away and starts to walk in the direction of the parking lot. “Fuck off.”
Chanyeol follows after Jongin, quickly catching up with long strides. “I thought you’d be more upset about the loss,” he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his grey trousers as he slows down to a stroll. He looks overdressed compared to Jongin’s casual joggers and long-sleeved tee.
“I cried in the shower before coming here,” Jongin deadpans.
Chanyeol glances at him, wearing a lop-sided smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were joking.”
Jongin rolls his eyes. “Whenever I’m upset, I remind myself of when we thrashed you guys four-zero last season. Twice.”
“You must have to do that a lot latel—Ow!” Chanyeol rubs his bruised arm where Jongin punched him hard. “Remind me why I like you again?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. I ended your six-game goal streak last season and you’ve been obsessed with me ever since.” Jongin tuts, “that’s not very healthy.”
“No, that’s not it. I like you because you’re talented and gorgeous, and I really want to eat you out again.” Chanyeol gives him a wolfish grin.
Jongin looks away, blushing hard. A searing line of arousal cuts down his pelvis at the memory.
“Are you embarrassed?” Chanyeol chuckles. “You’re so cute, you know that?”