Work Text:
-> The Wedding
The air in the grand ballroom was thick with the scent of lilies and the soft murmur of a hundred delighted guests. Kim Doyoung, looking impeccably handsome in a tailored white tuxedo, stood at the altar next to his newly minted husband, Jung Jaehyun.
Jaehyun, the former Olympic fencing champion and current sports legend, was beaming. His eyes crinkled in the way Doyoung adored, and his hand was warm and firm around Doyoung’s. Everything was perfect.
The officiant wrapped up the ceremony with a final blessing, and as the applause swelled, Doyoung turned, looked straight into Jaehyun's eyes, and delivered his line with perfect, dramatic timing.
"Although it's too late, congratulations on your wedding, Jeong," Doyoung whispered, his voice catching slightly, aiming for that perfect blend of melancholic joy he'd witnessed in the finale of the classic K-drama he'd binged until 3 AM the night before.
Jaehyun's triumphant smile faltered, replaced by a look of utter, loving exasperation. He leaned in, his lips brushing Doyoung’s ear.
"Baby, it's our wedding, and please stop quoting the lines from that drama you watched last night," Jaehyun groaned, though his hands tightened affectionately around Doyoung's waist.
Doyoung giggled, the sound bright and entirely unprofessional for a respected investigative sports reporter. "Oh, come on! It's an iconic line! It's art! I was just giving us a little... narrative flourish."
"Our narrative flourish is 'I do' and 'Kiss me,' not 'I'm a heartbroken second lead who secretly loved you all along,'" Jaehyun countered playfully, tilting Doyoung's chin up. "Besides, I'm the one who should be saying something cheesy. I'm the athlete, you're the pessimist."
"Excuse me, I'm a romantic! I just express it through pop culture references," Doyoung sniffed, adjusting his bow tie. "But fine. You go first."
Jaehyun paused, looking out at the sea of friends and family, and then back at the man who had turned his disciplined world of lunges and parries upside down. He lifted Doyoung's hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
"Doyoung-ah," Jaehyun said, his voice dropping to a warm, serious register that melted Doyoung instantly. "I used to only care about the gold medal. Now, I realize you are the real trophy. You are the joy at the end of every exhausting race, the reason I always want to come home. I love you, my forever reporter."
Doyoung felt a real, non-drama tear well up. "Okay, that was genuinely good, Jeong. You win this round."
"Good. Now," Jaehyun said, a mischievous spark in his eye. He dipped Doyoung dramatically. "Let's go have a reception that's far more interesting than a 2521-level cliffhanger."
And with a final, genuine kiss, they walked down the aisle, ready to start their own, non-fictional happily ever after.
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-> The First Encounter
The air in the National Training Center smelled of sweat, steel, and industrial-strength cleaning fluid. Kim Doyoung, a relatively fresh-faced but already sharp investigative reporter for Sports Today, squinted in the bright arena lights, notebook clutched tight. His assignment: an exclusive profile on the reigning world champion in épée, Jung Jaehyun.
He found the subject—or rather, the subject was impossible to miss.
Jaehyun, stripped down to a practice uniform, was engaged in a furious bout with his sparring partner. He was a force of controlled aggression: quick, precise, and utterly silent as he executed a flawless counter-attack. The bell rang, signifying a point. Jaehyun lifted his mask, his face flushed but his eyes clear and intense. He looked less like a human and more like a Greek statue carved from granite and ambition.
Doyoung approached the barrier hesitantly, waiting for a break. As soon as Jaehyun took a swig from his water bottle, Doyoung pressed play on his recorder and stuck his microphone over the rail.
"Mr. Jung," Doyoung began, using his most professional, detached tone. "Kim Doyoung, Sports Today. I appreciate you squeezing me in. I want to start by asking about the incident last week—the one where your former coach suggested you’re becoming too 'Hollywood' and losing your focus on the fundamentals."
Jaehyun froze mid-sip. The good-natured chatter from his team instantly died. He slowly lowered the bottle, his intense gaze locking onto Doyoung. His eyes were dark, challenging, and completely devoid of the usual charm Doyoung had seen in every glossy magazine shot.
"Too early for that, isn't it?" Jaehyun's voice was low, carrying a slight, rough edge. He didn't sound angry; he sounded annoyed that Doyoung was wasting his practice time.
"I prefer to get the core issue out of the way," Doyoung replied smoothly, not backing down. He was used to prickly athletes. "It’s a major talking point. You have a lot of new endorsements. Are you concerned that the public perception of your focus is shifting from the strip to the spotlight?"
Jaehyun pushed his damp hair back and gave a slow, deliberate smile that didn't reach his eyes. "My focus is on the Olympics, Reporter Kim. That’s all that matters. Your job is to write a profile; mine is to win gold. I don't give interviews about gossip."
He snatched a towel from a nearby bench, turning his back to Doyoung. "I’ll give you twenty minutes after I finish this session. But if you keep asking about gossip, that twenty minutes is going to turn into zero."
Doyoung stared at the athlete's retreating back, his professional façade wavering for a split second. He wasn't used to being dismissed so completely. He scrawled a furious note on his pad: J.J. - Intolerably arrogant. Insufferable.
Just then, Jaehyun stopped and glanced over his shoulder. He saw the reporter still standing there, looking both ruffled and determined. A flicker of something—maybe appreciation, maybe intrigue—crossed his face.
"Oh," Jaehyun called out, his voice now a little warmer, though still firm. "And bring better questions. I watch the news. Your stuff is usually better than this."
Doyoung’s jaw tightened. It was a challenge, a criticism, and a backhanded compliment all rolled into one. He snapped his notebook shut.
"Don't worry, Mr. Jung," Doyoung called back, meeting the athlete's gaze. "My next questions will be unforgettable."
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-> The First Date
It took three months of professional sparring—Jaehyun giving the bare minimum in interviews, Doyoung asking the maximum of uncomfortable questions—before their relationship shifted. It happened abruptly after Doyoung published a balanced profile that acknowledged Jaehyun's commitment despite the 'Hollywood' gossip. Jaehyun sent a text: Dinner. Tomorrow. 7 PM. My treat. No recording device.
Doyoung showed up at the upscale, but discreet, Italian restaurant looking immaculate. He was wearing a sharp navy sweater and an expression of cool skepticism.
Jaehyun, who was already seated, immediately smiled—a genuine, easy smile that made Doyoung’s internal defenses tremble a little.
"You look good, Reporter Kim," Jaehyun said, gesturing to the empty chair.
"Just Doyoung, please. And you don’t look bad yourself, Athlete Jung," Doyoung replied, pulling out his chair. He was trying to maintain his professional distance, but Jaehyun, in a simple turtleneck, was distracting.
They managed to talk through the appetizers—mostly surface-level conversation about movies and books. Doyoung was surprised to learn that Jaehyun read philosophy; Jaehyun was amused that Doyoung’s favorite genre was overly dramatic K-dramas.
Then, the main course arrived: a generous plate of squid ink pasta for Doyoung, and a clean, grilled fish for Jaehyun.
"So," Doyoung said, twirling a dark, inky strand onto his fork. "The interview is over. Why am I here?"
Jaehyun looked directly at him, his gaze honest. "I asked you out because you’re the only person who hasn’t been nice to me in six months. Everyone either wants a scoop or an endorsement. You just wanted the truth, even if it was inconvenient."
Doyoung felt a strange, warm flush creep up his neck. He tried to hide it by taking a huge bite of pasta.
And then, disaster struck.
The long, slippery strand of pasta, laden with rich, black ink, was too much for one bite. It slipped from his fork and whipped across the pristine white tablecloth. Worse, a droplet of concentrated ink splattered directly onto the crisp, white cuff of Jaehyun's expensive shirt.
Doyoung gasped, dropping his fork with a clatter. "Oh my god! I am so sorry! I'm a mess! I'm completely unprofessional—"
Jaehyun stared at the dark, blooming spot on his cuff for a solid three seconds. Doyoung braced for the legendary athlete's temper to flare.
Instead, Jaehyun let out a short, surprised laugh. He leaned across the table, picked up Doyoung’s discarded fork, and pointed it at the rest of the pasta.
"You know what that looks like?" Jaehyun asked, a genuine smirk playing on his lips.
Doyoung blinked, mortified. "An ink stain that cost $300?"
"No," Jaehyun corrected, his eyes softening as he looked at Doyoung. "It looks like the start of something. Messy, unexpected, and completely black and white. Much like our conversation."
He then calmly took his napkin, folded it neatly, and dabbed at his cuff, making the stain worse. "Don't worry about it. It's just a shirt. Finish your food, Doyoung. I want to know what drama line you'd use to describe this situation."
Doyoung slowly picked up his fork, his heart doing a ridiculous little flip. He cleared his throat and delivered a line from his favorite historical epic:
"'Even the deepest stain cannot obscure the brightness of destiny.'"
Jaehyun threw his head back and laughed, the sound loud and genuine. "You are completely ridiculous," he said. "And I think I like it."
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-> Interviewing Your Boyfriend
The press conference room was packed. Jaehyun was sitting at the table, flanked by his coach and manager, looking impossibly focused. Doyoung, tucked into the third row, felt the familiar weight of his professional duty fighting with the new, fluttery feeling in his stomach. They were two weeks into their 'unofficial' dating phase, and Doyoung had spent the entire morning receiving texts from Jaehyun about how nervous he was to see Doyoung in the crowd.
The floor opened for questions, and reporters started volleying softballs about his training regimen. Doyoung knew he had to ask a real question, one that would cement his journalistic integrity.
He raised his hand. Jaehyun, who had been effortlessly deflecting the previous questions, paused when he saw Doyoung. A micro-expression—a quick flash of warmth and recognition—crossed his face before it snapped back to neutral.
The moderator pointed to Doyoung. "Reporter Kim Doyoung, Sports Today," Doyoung announced clearly, his voice steady. He kept his eyes strictly on the space just above Jaehyun's head.
"Mr. Jung," Doyoung began, using the formal address. "The upcoming tournament in Paris is your first major international appearance since the World Championships. You mentioned your focus is singular, but with the recent change in management and the added pressure of securing the top seed, many analysts are citing a drop in your performance consistency during practice sessions. How are you compartmentalizing the administrative turmoil and ensuring it doesn't leak onto the strip?"
The room went silent. It was a tough, insightful question—the kind Doyoung specialized in. Jaehyun's coach shifted uncomfortably.
Jaehyun, however, looked entirely unfazed. His gaze met Doyoung's this time, and Doyoung had to work hard not to let his professional mask slip.
"That's a fair question, Doyoung-ssi," Jaehyun replied, using the slightly more familiar honorific, which made Doyoung's internal alarm bells ring softly. "It’s true that external factors can be distracting. Any athlete will tell you that."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a serious, resonant tone that made the microphone pick up every syllable perfectly.
"But a professional athlete must learn to filter that noise out. I rely on my discipline and the hard work I put in every day. The best way to compartmentalize the administrative turmoil is to remember what is truly important," Jaehyun stated, his gaze holding Doyoung's. He spoke slowly, as if emphasizing the words for a single listener. "Focus on the one person who brings stability, who demands honesty, and who ultimately makes the long, solitary work worth the effort. That is the only effective way to keep your head in the game."
He paused, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touching the corner of his mouth—a private message delivered under the guise of public relations.
"I am focused," he concluded. "Singularly."
The other reporters scribbled furiously. They saw a motivated athlete. Doyoung, however, felt his cheeks heat up, recognizing the deliberate, intimate confession disguised as a professional answer.
As the moderator moved to the next question, Doyoung kept his head down, pretending to take notes. He shot a text under the table:
Doyoung: Did you just call me your 'stability' at a nationally televised press conference? 🤨
Almost instantly, his phone buzzed.
Jaehyun: I simply answered the question honestly. You're the one who asked me about compartmentalization, baby. 😉 See you at 8. Bring the squid ink pasta takeout.
The professional reporter sighed, tucking his phone away. The athlete was incorrigible. And Doyoung, to his own exasperation, was completely smitten.
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-> The Great Escape
Jaehyun and Doyoung’s first vacation was supposed to be a low-key, romantic escape to a small, private villa on a quiet tropical island. Jaehyun needed to decompress after a grueling competition season; Doyoung needed to stop looking at his phone for more than five minutes at a time.
They had been dating for six months and were now comfortable enough to travel together. Or so they thought.
The trouble started immediately upon arrival.
"Wait, you brought three ties?" Doyoung asked, staring down at the neatly organized packing cube Jaehyun had just opened. It contained six matching white t-shirts, six pairs of black shorts, three neckties, and a small first-aid kit.
"Of course," Jaehyun said, looking offended. "What if we have a sudden, impromptu black-tie dinner? I believe in being prepared and consistent."
Doyoung gestured around the open-air villa. "We are on an island where the dress code is 'sand and sunscreen.' We don't even have a door, Jaehyun. That's a bamboo curtain."
"Well, you brought an actual laptop and three novels," Jaehyun countered, pointing at Doyoung's bag. "Are you planning to write a feature on the local lizard population?"
"I brought a laptop in case I get a good idea, and the novels are for leisure," Doyoung huffed. "You brought three neckties for panic."
Their clash of approaches climaxed on the third day. Jaehyun had meticulously scheduled their itinerary: 7 AM: Core Workout. 9 AM: Healthy Breakfast (No Carbs). 11 AM: Guided Snorkeling. 2 PM: Relaxation (Controlled Sun Exposure).
Doyoung, however, woke up and decided to ignore the schedule entirely. He grabbed a sugary pastry, threw on a ridiculous floral-print shirt he’d bought at the airport, and wandered off toward a nearby town marked on the map as having an "authentic market."
Jaehyun, finishing his 200th core crunch, looked up to find the villa empty. His carefully constructed schedule was ruined. He bolted out, panicked that Doyoung was lost.
He found Doyoung twenty minutes later, sitting happily on a wooden bench, surrounded by colorful baskets and local women, trying to barter for a small, aggressively decorated wooden parrot.
"Doyoung! I've been looking everywhere!" Jaehyun gasped, out of breath and looking incredibly formal in his crisp white athletic gear. "You were supposed to be here for the itinerary!"
"I cancelled the itinerary, Jeong," Doyoung replied, sipping a coconut drink. "I needed a narrative change. This market is fascinating, and I just bought this fantastic bird." He proudly held up the parrot.
Jaehyun stared at the hideous parrot, then at Doyoung’s beaming, unguarded face, and finally at the large, wet stain on the front of his own perfect white shirt—a casualty of his hurried panic.
He sighed, the tension draining out of him. He realized that this unstructured, slightly chaotic mess was exactly what he had been missing.
"Okay," Jaehyun conceded, pulling Doyoung closer by the belt loop. "I get it. Chaos is... acceptable. But only for this week. On one condition."
"What?" Doyoung smiled, a genuine, joyful smile.
Jaehyun leaned in and whispered dramatically in his ear: "That parrot is never, under any circumstances, to be displayed in our living room."
Doyoung laughed, a bright, relieved sound. "Deal. Now, come on, Athlete Jung. Let's go buy you a brightly colored, schedule-ruining shirt."
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-> The Proposal
It was a cold, crisp December evening. Doyoung and Jaehyun were celebrating the third anniversary of their first date—the famous Squid Ink Disaster. Jaehyun had reserved the same corner booth at the Italian restaurant, and Doyoung, learning his lesson, had ordered the plain pesto pasta.
Everything felt warm, familiar, and comfortable. They were talking about mundane things—Jaehyun's upcoming winter training camp and Doyoung's new editorial column. It felt less like a date and more like a cozy, domestic routine, which Doyoung realized he absolutely loved.
Jaehyun suddenly cleared his throat, pushing his half-eaten plate away. He reached into his jacket pocket, a subtle tremor running through his hand. Doyoung’s reporter instincts immediately kicked in.
"What is it, Jeong? Did you forget your wallet? Did you get a bad review? You look like you're about to confess to a doping violation."
Jaehyun let out a nervous puff of air that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "I've been planning this for two months, Doyoung-ah. I’ve written out five different speeches. I even practiced one on my coach this morning."
Doyoung softened immediately. He’d never seen the usually unshakable athlete this flustered. "Okay, slow down. Just tell me what's on your mind."
Jaehyun took a deep breath. He didn't pull out a ring box—he pulled out a small, battered notebook bound in dark leather. It was the notebook Doyoung had been using the day they met, the one where he'd angrily scrawled: J.J. - Intolerably arrogant. Insufferable.
Jaehyun opened the book to that exact page. He pointed to the furious scribble and then, with a silver pen, he drew a small, shaky heart next to the line.
"Three years ago, you thought I was insufferable," Jaehyun began, his voice earnest and slightly rough. "And you were probably right. I was so focused on being the best that I forgot how to be good at anything else."
He slid the notebook across the table to Doyoung.
"You changed my focus. You forced me to look outside the boundaries of the strip and the schedule. You brought chaos and warmth and those ridiculous drama quotes into my perfectly organized life, and I realized that I don't just want you in my life—I need you as my anchor."
Jaehyun finally reached into his other pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He didn't get down on one knee—the table was too small, the booth too cramped, and he was too nervous—but he opened the box and held it out, revealing a simple, perfect silver band.
"I need you to keep questioning me, to keep challenging me, and to keep watching those ridiculous dramas next to me on the couch," Jaehyun continued, his eyes shining with pure emotion. "I can’t promise life will be easy, but I can promise it will never be boring. It will be our story, and it will be better than any 2521 drama."
He looked Doyoung directly in the eyes. "Kim Doyoung, will you marry me?"
Doyoung was utterly speechless. No lines came to mind. No clever historical references. Just raw, overwhelming emotion.
Tears welled up in his eyes, ruining the careful eyeliner he’d applied. He slammed his hand down on the table, which sent a glass of water wobbling precariously.
"Yes, you idiot!" Doyoung choked out, swiping at his wet cheeks. "Of course, I will! Now put that ring on me before I start quoting a line about star-crossed lovers and ruin this perfect, non-dramatic moment!"
Jaehyun laughed, a sound of profound relief and joy. He quickly slipped the ring onto Doyoung’s finger; the fit was perfect. Doyoung instantly grabbed his hand and kissed the ring, then pulled Jaehyun across the table for a passionate, triumphant kiss.
As they broke apart, breathless and beaming, Doyoung sighed happily.
"Wait," he said, suddenly thoughtful. "Did you actually practice that on your coach, or was that just a dramatic flourish?"
Jaehyun grinned. "Baby, some things are best left as a beautiful mystery."
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-> Post Wedding
The grand wedding reception was over. The guests had gone, the flowers were wilted, and the borrowed tuxedo jackets were draped over the backs of chairs.
Doyoung and Jaehyun were finally alone in their quiet, stylishly minimalist apartment. Doyoung was still wearing his tuxedo trousers but had swapped the stiff white shirt for one of Jaehyun’s impossibly soft, oversized cotton tees. He was perched on the kitchen counter, sipping champagne straight from the bottle.
Jaehyun, who had meticulously changed into pajamas—a dark, non-wrinkled set, naturally—was packing up the last of the expensive wedding gifts. He found a small, embroidered pouch and handed it to Doyoung.
"What is this?" Doyoung asked, curious.
"The wedding fund envelopes," Jaehyun replied, a tired but happy smile on his face. "We did it. We survived. We're officially married. And we are very, very rich now."
Doyoung counted a stack of envelopes, then sighed dramatically. "All this money, and the only thing I want to spend it on is a massive TV so I can watch all my old dramas in 4K."
Jaehyun walked over and gently plucked the champagne bottle from Doyoung's hands, replacing it with a comforting mug of warm milk. "Baby, you need to sleep. We have a flight to the Maldives tomorrow."
Doyoung rested his head against Jaehyun's chest, the familiar scent of expensive soap and gentle sweat a comforting combination. "I just keep thinking about the day," he mumbled. "It was perfect. Even with the slight hiccup."
"The hiccup being your insistence on quoting a famous line from 2521 right after the officiant said 'You may kiss the groom'?" Jaehyun teased, kissing the top of Doyoung's head.
"It was appropriate! It was a dramatic capstone to our dramatic journey!" Doyoung insisted, pushing away slightly to look Jaehyun in the eye. "Although it's too late, but congratulations on your wedding, Jeong."
Jaehyun rolled his eyes, a familiar exasperation warming his face. "Baby, it's our wedding, and please stop quoting the lines on drama you watched last night," he repeated, the words now less of a complaint and more of an inside joke—their mantra.
He lifted Doyoung off the counter and carried him toward the living room sofa, ignoring Doyoung’s squeak of protest.
Jaehyun settled them both onto the cushions, tucking Doyoung securely under his chin. He reached over and picked up a throw pillow embroidered with a quote Doyoung had demanded they register for: "A love that burns bright, like a reporter's scoop."
"All jokes aside, Doyoung-ah," Jaehyun whispered, his voice serious again. "I love you. I loved watching you today. You were the most dazzling thing in that room, and I'm so happy you chose to be my future."
Doyoung snuggled closer, letting the exhaustion of the day finally settle in. "I love you too, my forever champion. Now that the drama is over... what's next?"
Jaehyun smiled, tracing the line of Doyoung's jaw with his thumb. "Next, we sleep. And then, we create our own story. One chapter at a time."
He turned off the lamp, plunging the room into a peaceful darkness, and settled in to hold his husband. They had won their greatest gold medal: a lifetime together.