Chapter Text
Honestly, Joshua never got it. Sure, he's a healthy young man. He has eyes, and they work fairly well! But his eyes have never gotten the appeal of firefighters.
It sounds bad if he says it out loud. They're first responders. They're saving lives, putting themselves at risk for others. They're heroes.
He's just never had the urge to fuck a firefighter. Sue him.
He had a friend in high school, Cora, who loved them. On the inside of her wardrobe door, hidden behind a jacket she used to shield the goods from her nosey mother, hung a whole calendar of shirtless men in overalls. She'd shown it to him about a million times, taking it down for Joshua to page through when they were meant to be studying. Joshua didn't get it. The men all looked unrealistic. Artificial.
"Most of them model in their free time," she'd told him, crossing a day off with her red sharpie. "It's a really big industry. It's, like, every woman's dream to get rescued from a house fire."
Joshua had almost laughed until he noticed her serious expression. "Your dream is dying in a house fire?"
"Not dying!" She'd scolded, capping her pen with a click. "Just… I don't know! A little fire! Maybe I could get stuck in a tree, and they'd have to carry me down… It'd be so romantic."
Joshua had blinked, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind. She was clearly in a phase. She'd move on. They were juniors at the time, and he was pretty sure he'd meet sane people once he reached university.
He didn't.
Instead he met Jeonghan, and spent Halloween getting ready in his tiny dorm room, watching him adjust his bunny ears in the mirror he hung on the wall over his desk. "He's dressed up as a firefighter. He's trying to lure me in!"
Joshua had been dressed up as a deer, freckles painted onto his cheeks from Jeonghan's fancy eyeshadow pallette. The rest of their floor was already bustling with people ready to party, the celebrations almost in full swing. They were meant to go to an off-campus house party, though. Jeonghan's ridiculous ex-boyfriend— who he had decided deserved another chance based on his costume this year— had invited them along. "He was an asshole."
"The overalls, Joshua," Jeonghan hissed, turning away from the mirror to glare. "They're— God, you don't get it. This is like catnip to my gay brain."
"I'm gay, too. That picture you showed me… He looks—"
"Amazing, I know!" Jeonghan cuts him off, dipping his brush into the blush powder again. "I can't believe he's going to waste a face like that on a career in print journalism. Idiot. He should be in those stupid calendars."
For a moment, Joshua had remembered Cora. He attracts crazy, he figured. He'd never get it. He's the only sane person left.
🚒
Except, he's not. He realises, embarrassingly, as he blinks up at the firefighter leaning over him almost ten years later, that he's just as bad as the rest of them.
"Sir?"
Joshua blinks slowly. There's a fire in the pot on the stove, smoke pluming towards the kitchen ceiling, the smell of burnt custard flooding the space. He's been on the floor for a few minutes— he's not sure how many because he lost track after he slipped, phone abandoned by the sink— his breathing heavy as he tries to find clean air. He's dizzy, too. Stupid.
"Sir?" The fireman repeats, flipping up the visor of his helmet. There are two others behind him, fussing over the stove. There's a charred tea towel beside the pot, the fire flickering out as the firemen try to fix the mess Joshua has managed to make. He's been tasked with helping Joshua, though.
He crouches down, heavy boot crunching glass under his foot. Joshua had been trying to fill a jug with water for the fire when he slipped on the cake batter he'd spilled earlier. God, he's a mess. Now there's a chunk of glass stuck through the sole of his shoe, puncturing the ball of his foot. There's water everywhere, too. Probably blood— he's trying not to look.
The firefighter doesn't pay it much notice, though. His eyes are locked on Joshua's as he repeats his question again. "Sir, are you okay?"
"My foot," he finally manages. He's in shock, probably. He's having a near death experience. Everything feels slower than usual, the energy in the room suffocating him along with the smoke.
It's Jeonghan's fault. Jeonghan, who left him in charge of their stupid cafe, to go and see his stupid ex-boyfriend. He flew into San Francisco. He texted Jeonghan Friday night suggesting dinner, talking about catching up.
Then Jeonghan had spent the rest of Friday night trying to teach Joshua how the oven in the kitchen works. "You just put the cake in. It's not hard."
"Is it meant to be this colour?" Joshua had asked, blanching at the grey cake batter he'd managed to cook up.
Jeonghan had stepped closer, eyebrows knitting together. "How did you even manage that?"
"I think it's the flour."
"I measured it for you! How did you still fuck it up?"
His tone was light enough that Joshua knew he was joking. But really, Jeonghan shouldn't joke. No one should. Putting Joshua in the kitchen wasn't a good idea. Ever.
When Jeonghan came to him— fresh from a year abroad in France, months of baking with experts under his belt— the suggestion to open a cafe in Joshua's home city had only been agreed upon with certain terms. The first one was that Joshua would put his business degree to use, run the social media, pay wages, create their branding. The second was that Jeonghan would bake. The third was that Joshua would never set foot in the kitchen.
It was a desperate time, though. Seungkwan's still in Jeju, soaking up the sun with his mother on his visit home. He's usually Jeonghan's right hand in the cafe kitchen, expertly decorating most of their cupcake selections. Even Jihoon— their emergency contact for the kitchen since he left for his dream job of actually producing for a label— wasn't able to come in for the weekend. He's got the flu.
It left Joshua. "Just leave me the batter," he'd sighed. "I know how to put things in the oven. I'll cook them before we open Monday, and we'll be fine."
Jeonghan hadn't liked the idea, but it was the only good one either of them could actually come up with in these desperate times.
"You could just not go," Joshua suggested, watching Jeonghan label the cake name on a plastic container filled with 'red velvet' in sharpie. "Hyungwon calling for a booty call is—"
"It's not a booty call."
"Right."
"It's a catch up. You know he's never this side of the country," Jeonghan scolds, pushing the tub towards him. "Fridge."
Joshua picked it up, following his steps back to the walk-in. "He's your ex. People never 'catch up' with their exes."
"I do!"
"You're crazy."
Jeonghan glared at him when he got back to the island in the centre of the kitchen, lips tugging into a frown. "It's not like that."
Joshua had squinted but eventually sighed. "I know. He's not as bad as he used to be."
"He's got a new boyfriend. They adopted a cat. We really are just catching up."
"Well, enjoy," he finally says, giving in.
"Don't burn the place down before I'm home on Tuesday," Jeonghan warned.
Joshua had laughed at the time. It doesn't feel funny now, blinking at the firefighter who is trying to get a look at his foot, trying to analyse the damage he's done to himself. His hands are covered with gloves, trying to daintily pick up Joshua's ankle to get a closer look. Joshua winces, body stiff from the fall.
"Okay, you're bleeding through your shoe. I'm going to have to carry you out. Sir, is that okay?" The fireman looks at him, wide eyes inviting Joshua to trust him. He nods slowly, trying to calm himself down.
The fireman stands up, twisting to look over his shoulder to his colleagues. "I'm taking him out to the ambulance," he tells them, voice shouting over the ringing alarm. The two say something back but Joshua can't hear them.
He braces himself as the fireman leans down to him again, carefully slipping an arm under Joshua's knees, the other arm worming it's way around Joshua's back to get a proper grip on him.
He winces to himself, trying to imagine himself as light as possible to ensure the fireman doesn't struggle to carry him out. But the man lifts him with some ease, shifting as he stands up to hold him easier. "Okay?"
Joshua nods quickly, mind still a bit foggy.
"Can you wrap an arm around my shoulders? It'll be more comfortable," he suggests, trying to offer a small smile. Joshua does as told, doing his best to latch his arm around the man's broad shoulders.
He knows, as the fireman makes his way through the kitchen, that he's actually lucky. If Seokmin or Minghao were here, it'd be ten times worse. At least– he thinks– he's the only person in the cafe tonight. There are no witnesses to his stupidity. No one around to mock the fact he's getting carried through his business bridal style, like an idiot.
His first breath of air when they get outside feels miraculously good. He's wasted it before, he thinks. This near-death experience will make him more grateful.
He's in shock, he realises. That's why he's having such insightful thoughts.
"Fresh air good?" The fireman asks, approaching the ambulance pulled up on the sidewalk. The flashing lights feel like another shock to the system, but he tries to swallow another breath of air, nodding in reply.
There are two EMT's at the ambulance, a gurney already on the road waiting for him. They spring into action when they see him, beckoning the fireman over. "Here, drop him here."
"Don't say drop," the shorter of the two says, shaking his head. "Place him."
"Hey, I'm your superior. If I say drop 'em, he has to drop," the other snipes back.
"It sounds bad."
"Sounds fine."
"It sounds—"
"Can you two stop bickering for five minutes?" The fireman asks before shifting Joshua out of his arms and onto the gurney. He's careful about it, guiding Joshua until he's in a comfortable spot, patting Joshua's arm to give him the chance to retract his arm.
"Hey, he's conscious," the taller EMT says, grinning at Joshua as he steps forward. "I'm Soonyoung. What's your name?"
Joshua blinks, mouth feeling a little dry as Soonyoung pulls a tiny torch from the pocket of his button up shirt, flashing it over his eyes to check his cognitive function. "Joshua. Joshua Hong."
"Well, Joshua. Joshua Hong," Soonyoung repeats, smiling. "Tell me what hurts."
"Foot," he manages, almost looking down. But Soonyoung puts a hand on his shoulder, flashing his torch over his other eye. "There was glass."
"Glass, huh? That's not good. Did your oven explode?"
"No," he admits. "I dropped a jug of water. Glass jug."
"Trying to put out a fire?" The shorter asks, guiding his legs onto the gurney.
His fireman has taken a step back, speaking into his radio quietly, eyes still on Joshua. He looks stupidly good. Stupidly attractive. He's got sharp eyes, a flush in his cheeks. He pulls his helmet off whilst Joshua is staring, running a hand through his fluffy hair, saying something else into his radio.
"Joshua?"
He looks back at Soonyoung, blinking. "What?"
"Were you trying to put out the fire with the water?"
"Yeah. I was… Yeah. It was custard. I was trying to heat custard, and the tea towel caught fire, and then the pot caught fire, and—" He cuts himself off with a groan when the shorter EMT picks up his foot, accidentally nudging the glass in his foot.
"Sorry," he winces. "Can I take off your shoe?"
Joshua nods, the EMT getting to work while Soonyoung checks his heartbeat. "Do you usually set fire to your kitchen?"
"It's not my kitchen," he admits, gritting his teeth as his shoe gets carefully tugged off, glass exiting his foot with it.
"It's not a bad cut," he gets told when his sock is discarded, his foot in the EMT's hands. "Superficial. Good you didn't stand up on it, though. Could have gone a lot deeper. You'll be able to walk fine. Sticker stitches."
"They have a name, Chan," Soonyoung corrects.
"Right," Chan replies, pulling a face at Joshua. "Steri-strip. We'll stick one on, you'll be good to go."
"Did you fall?" Soonyoung asks. "Wonwoo was carrying you, did you fall over?"
Wonwoo. The fireman has a name. Joshua finds himself glancing over again, hesitant eyes searching for Wonwoo. He's looking right back at him, neutral expression on his face that dissolves into a small smile when he notices Joshua looking.
"Yeah," he replies, looking back at the EMT. "I slipped, and dropped the jug… And, then as I was getting up I stepped on the glass again, so I fell again, on—"
"On your ass, right. Well. Is there any horrific pain? Is it difficult to be sitting like this?" Soonyoung asks, stepping away to squint at his posture.
"No, just a little sore."
"It might bruise, but you'll probably be fine."
He tries not to watch Chan clean the wound, tries not to retract his knee to his chest— desperate to drag himself away from Chan's grip— tries not to turn red as his foot is delicately wrapped with the bandages Chan's selected while Soonyoung compliments his complexion.
Wonwoo watches. It makes him squirm. Makes him feel a little ill. He overthinks the way he breathes, the way his posture sits.
And, then they're done. "You were really brave, Joshua! Joshua Hong!"
He blinks at Soonyoung before he nods. "Thank you. Both. Thank you."
"Hey, get a check up if your back hurts," Soonyoung tells him.
"But your foot should be fine," Chan nods, joining Soonyoung to meet his eye. "You'll need new shoes, though."
Wonwoo approaches when Chan finishes speaking, helmet under his arm. "Well, Joshua," he starts, trying to look friendly. Trying to sound chirpy. Joshua stares up at him, breathless feeling washing over him again. "The fire is out."
"There's a cake in the oven," he blurts, eyes wide. "That's probably burning too, God, I forgot to take it out. It's—"
"It's taken care of," Wonwoo assures. "They're just turning off the alarms, and doing one last walk through. But it's fine. It's all under control."
Soonyoung nudges his arm, holding out a bottle of water and a painkiller. "Take this. You'll feel better."
He swallows it while Wonwoo watches, the fireman waiting for a chance to continue their conversation. Soonyoung steps away again, giving them space. Joshua flushes when he meets his eye again, ducking his head a little. "The stove might need replacing. There's damage. But the oven seems intact. You might have to repaint the ceiling, too. Smoke damage."
Joshua is sure his face is crimson now, eyes darting away from Wonwoo in shame. He's broken a stove. He's set fire to a fucking stove. Jeonghan's not even left the state, and Joshua has almost burnt the cafe down.
"Hey," Wonwoo says softly, dragging his attention back. He gently puts his free hand on Joshua's shoulder, offering him a sympathetic look. "It happens. You're not the first person to set custard on fire, I promise."
He finds it in himself to smile back, doing his best to not let the overwhelmed feeling in his gut choke him up. "Are you sure?"
Wonwoo's smile brightens a little as he nods. "I'm sure."
"Jeon!" They both look towards the door of the cafe, the two firefighters emerging from the front door waving their arms to catch Wonwoo' s attention. "Stop flirting, c'mon. There's a call about an abandoned warehouse on fire six blocks from here."
"Idiots," Wonwoo mutters under his breath before he twists back to meet Joshua's gaze again. "You have someone you can call?"
Flirting.
The word echoes around his mind, clouding over his other thoughts, flustering him entirely. Flirting. Wonwoo's co-workers think he's flirting. They think he's flirting with Joshua!
"Joshua?"
He blinks before he nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, my friend can come collect me. I'll be fine. Yeah."
Wonwoo flashes a bright smile again, giving Joshua's shoulder a little squeeze.
And, then he's gone. He's jogging down the street to the truck, meeting his friends at the side. Soonyoung and Chan are both putting things back in the drawers of the ambulance, approaching him slowly.
"Can we help you back inside? You can wait for your friend?"
Joshua is still looking at the firetruck, watching it pull away from the curb, sirens starting up again to match the flashing lights.
Soonyoung clicks his fingers in front of his face, dragging him back to reality. "Joshua? Back inside? Seat on the curb? Where can we put you?"
"I can go inside," he bites out.
"He's single."
Soonyoung and Joshua both look at Chan, eyebrows raised as they watch him snap his gloves off. "Oh, Wonwoo?" Soonyoung voices, and then looks back at Joshua. "He is! Yes! Incredibly! Painfully, even!"
Joshua ignores the comment. He's pulling his phone from his pocket instead, desperate for something to do, desperate to escape the knowing looks of the EMT's.
He's sure he's still blushing when the ambulance pulls away, face still red as he gets in Seokmin's car eventually.
🚒
Joshua finds himself in the firehouse two days later, box of baked goods in his hands, unsure expression on his face. Jeonghan is determined enough for both of them, though. He's been in his flat baking since he got home, swearing at Joshua, scolding him for almost dying, almost killing their business. He selected a new stove for them to order, rushing through the insurance details after he decided Joshua was still too shaken up for it.
Joshua had argued against it, voice full of complaint.
Jeonghan had shushed him, though.
"What did I say?" Jeonghan asked when he was piling the tubs of baked goods into the trunk of his car, Joshua's arms filled with more. "I said not to burn the place down. Didn't I? I remember saying it."
"The kitchen is fine."
"Seokmin spent yesterday repainting the ceiling."
Joshua had winced, handing over the box for Jeonghan to slot next to the others, the trunk slamming shut a second later. "You're banned from the kitchen."
"That's fair."
"Forever."
He rolled his eyes, getting into the passenger seat to escape his best friend's withering glare.
It's back now, though. It's in full force as Jeonghan walks beside him across the fire station's large forecourt, passing the large red trucks. Joshua is pretty sure he's been in a fire station before— a school trip, maybe. But it feels unfamiliar as he stumbles forward, foreign as he passes by the ambulance that held his gurney two days before.
Jeonghan had called ahead. He'd wanted to ensure the firefighters that helped save their cafe were properly rewarded, boxes of brownies, banana bread, cookies, cupcakes, and caramel slices all stacked in their arms to show their gratitude. He'd made a big deal about having to cook them at home, pointedly reminding Joshua of all they've lost.
Joshua had pretended not to roll his eyes. The new stove was already being fitted, the kitchen due to be back up and running tomorrow. They're fine in the long scheme of things.
"There," Jeonghan nods now, cutting through Joshua's concentration to not walk into one of the huge trucks, smushing the box of cupcakes in his wake. "Up."
Joshua glances up at the balcony. The girl at reception had pointed them this way, pressing emphasis on the fact that unless the big alarm sounded they could stay as long as they liked. "You first," he requests, still feeling unsteady on his feet. The embarrassment of his mishap has left him feeling off.
Jeonghan rolls his eyes but takes the lead, jogging up the stairs at a pace that made Joshua want to wince.
Soonyoung is at the top of the stairs when they reach it, arms hanging over the balcony railing. He jumps into action when he sees Joshua, though. His posture straightens, and he practically bounds towards them, meeting them before they can get to the door that the receptionist had directed them towards.
"Hey, you're walking!"
Joshua opens his mouth in surprise. They've probably treated a hundred people since him, and helped people with much more serious injuries. But Soonyoung recognises him, pointing at his foot with the hand he hasn't shoved into the pocket of his neatly tailored trousers.
"It's good, yeah," he quickly replies, still trying to wrap his head around it.
Soonyoung eyes the boxes, eyebrows raising. "Did someone let you back into the kitchen?"
"No," Jeonghan jumps to reassure. "All me. He's banned."
Soonyoung bites back a smile, nodding slowly. "Probably for the best. No offence, Josh."
"None taken."
Soonyoung actually does smile now, twisting over his shoulder. "Everyone's in the kitchen, c'mon."
They follow him through the large door leading them into the large communal space. The kitchen island is large yet practically empty, only housing a pitcher of water along with a fruit bowl. No one's there, though. Soonyoung is already looking towards the large dining table, nodding towards it to steer them in the right direction.
None of them take notice. Soonyoung is silent enough that none of the four at the table look up, their heads bowed as they stare at the cards in their hands.
"They're gambling," Soonyoung whispers, aiming for subtle as Jeonghan and Joshua take notice. Joshua thinks he recognises the men at the table , or at least he thinks he recognises Chan the EMT.
And Wonwoo.
His eyes stick on him for a moment.
"It looks serious," Jeonghan quietly replies.
"Oh, it's very serious."
One of the men shakes his head, sighing. "This is bad."
"How bad?" The man next to him asks. Joshua is sure they were the firefighters who stayed inside, actually put out the fire. He probably owes them more than the others. They're the people who stopped his lovely cafe from turning to ash.
However, Joshua's gaze is stuck on Wonwoo. Stuck on the way he leans to the side, eyeing the cards his friend has deemed bad. "It's terrible," he sums up, shaking his head.
"Say it," Chan demands.
The man takes a long breath, eyes still on his cards. He looks conflicted momentarily, stuck on what to do. But then he sighs and points to the centre of the table. "Go fish."
Joshua's eyebrows knit together as Jeonghan scoffs beside him. "Go fish? Really?"
"We had to ban serious games," Soonyoung shrugs. "There was a fight."
"A disagreement," Chan corrects, looking over his shoulder with a frown.
The others are looking now, eyes away from their cards to stare at the visitors in their space, a flicker of recognition somewhere in their features.
Soonyoung is the one to announce it, though.
"Wonwoo, your boy is here! Brought baked goods, too!"
Your boy.
The phrase echoes through his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull. He can feel Jeonghan's sharp gaze on his cheek but he ignores it. He meets Wonwoo's eye across the room and forces himself to raise the box a little. "Jeonghan baked. I promise I didn't go near any stoves."
Wonwoo is smiling before Joshua's even finished speaking, his chair creaking as he gets out of it to cross the room. The others follow, cards abandoned at the promise of sugary food.
"Jeonghan," the man with the bad cards repeats once he's close enough, his hands coming forward to offer Jeonghan help. "I'm Captain Choi— Seungcheol. I'm Seungcheol. It was your cafe, right?"
Jeonghan says something back. Joshua is sure he does.
But he can't hear it. His attention has been entirely captured by Wonwoo, and the tight navy t-shirt that stretches across his chest. He's broader than he looked the other night, arms bulkier, bigger up close. "All in one piece, then?"
Joshua nods, ignoring the feeling that twists in his gut. "All in one piece."
He looks sturdier like this, slim waist hugged by the tailored trousers of his uniform. He's taller, too, hair a little messier than Joshua remembers. He's sure his breath is caught in his throat somewhere, his head swimming in a million thoughts that are too obscene to ever put a name on.
Wonwoo doesn't notice, though. He's eyeing the box in his hands, smiling. "So, you didn't bake these?"
"I promise. I've been banned from the kitchen. It's permanent."
Wonwoo chuckles. The sound comes from deep in his chest, his lips turned up in amusement as he nods. "It might be for the best."
Joshua forces himself to chuckle back. "I think I have to agree."
Wonwoo holds out a hand, and for a moment Joshua blinks at it. Then he realises, stumbling forward to hand over the boxes. He waits, watching Wonwoo flip the lid of the first, a genuine smile melting onto his lips. "Wow, these look good. You guys should open a cafe."
Joshua is sure he laughs too loudly because he can feel Jeonghan glance at him again. But Wonwoo doesn't say anything. He just grins, cheeks flushing a little, keeping a firm hold on the boxes.
"I'm sure people are always doing this. Dropping things off like this. You probably get tons of brownies for your heroics."
"Hm, yeah. That's why I signed up."
He almost laughs again before he catches himself, crossing his arms to give himself a little pinch before he can sound too amused. "Well, still. It's just a thank you."
Wonwoo nods, and then saunters away. Joshua keeps hold of himself, watching him deposit the boxes on the counter. Soonyoung, Chan, and the other firemen all crowd around the boxes, Seungcheol still absorbed in Jeonghan's orbit.
Wonwoo returns to him, though. He makes his way back with his easy smile back on his lips, head tilted as he gives Joshua a once over.
He likes him, Joshua thinks. Wonwoo likes him. He's sure of it.
In usual circumstances, in a bar or at a club, Joshua would be better at this. He's sure it's because Wonwoo's first interaction with him was spent pulling him out of a building while he bled through his shoes that keeps throwing him off his game. But he's sure Wonwoo still likes him.
That's why he asks.
"I could thank you with a drink, too, if you wanted?"
Wonwoo's eyebrows raise in surprise before he nods slowly. "A drink! That'd be good," he accepts, and Joshua feels momentarily gleeful. "The guys will really appreciate that."
His face falls— he can feel it, and mentally scolds himself. "Oh," he starts, unsure of how to backtrack. He wouldn't mind! He'd happily buy them a round! They saved his life, after all. Sure, Wonwoo did the carrying— but Captain Choi put the fire out, along with the tall one he still has to get the name of! And he'd be limping if Chan and Soonyoung hadn't plucked the glass from his foot. But—
He doesn't get as far as thinking of excuses. Wonwoo is chuckling again, shrugging. "I'm joking, sorry."
“You’re an asshole.”
Wonwoo brightens at the insult, laughing again. "It was too easy!"
Joshua rolls his eyes, confidence coming back to him. "Fine, group drinks on me. It's fine by me."
"Hey, no, I'm joking," Wonwoo pushes again, pouting a little. But then his expression drops, eyes darting to the side. "I mean, technically, I can't— Well, not that I'm accusing you of asking me out on a date, or something— I'm not! But you're on the books… I technically can't fraternise with you."
Joshua blinks, eyes slow as his brain tries to catch up on the words. Fraternise. Can't date, he means. He mentally translates it, nodding slowly.
There's a pit of embarrassment opening in his stomach, an uncomfortable twist of his gut that fills him with shame. Wonwoo's just done his job, and Joshua's here— at his place of work— asking him out! That's ridiculously inappropriate, he summarises to himself. He's an idiot. He's—
"I could give you my number, though. For emergencies. If you," Wonwoo takes a breath, widening his eyes to get his message across. "If you ever needed anything… I'd be happy to help."
Joshua blinks again, and then he's nodding, tugging his phone out of his pocket.
Wonwoo casts a glance towards the others before he takes it, typing his number quickly. When he hands Joshua's phone back, he can see he's texted himself from Joshua's phone, cementing their contact both ways.
Wonwoo gives him a small smile when Joshua looks up, and then he steps back.
It's just in time, Joshua realises. Jeonghan's swooping in, looping an arm through Joshua's. "We should get back. Seokmin in charge is almost as bad as you."
Joshua wrinkles his nose, but nods, letting his friend pull him away. "Bye, Joshua. Good seeing you," Wonwoo politely tells him as he gets dragged away, the others joining their goodbye's.
There's a chorus of 'thank you's' following them down the stairs, an echo of gratitude that follows them to the car.
"You can play with matches every week if we get to meet guys who look like them, again," Jeonghan says when they're finally back in the car, seat belts fastened. "This fire might be the best thing to ever happen to me."
"Yeah," Joshua nods beside him, swallowing nothing. "I think I get what you mean."
🚒
He refuses to let himself dwell on it.
Wonwoo has his number, he thinks to himself. Somewhere, in Wonwoo's texts, is a message from him sent by the man himself. Joshua is the one who bravely took the first step, Joshua is the one who asked. The ball is firmly in Wonwoo's court now.
Still— he drives himself a little insane thinking about it. He spends his evening in the office going over the insurance papers that Jeonghan has messed his way through. He spends his night eating dinner in his flat, staring at his phone, waiting for it to ring. He spends his hours drifting in and out of sleep, every waking thought wondering if Wonwoo is ever going to call.
And, then he dwells again the next day.
The call never comes, no text. The text Wonwoo sent from his phone remains alone in their text chain, abandoned by both of them— at least that’s how Joshua sees it every time he obsessively taps open the message, stomach churning.
| This is Joshua :-)
The Delivered word beneath it haunts him. Wonwoo was enthusiastic enough to put a stupid smiling face beside Joshua’s name, and yet he couldn’t pick up this phone and fucking reply.
The week drags.
Jeonghan gets over the fire. He likes the new stove, likes telling Joshua how much better it is than the last, how clean it is, and shiny. Seungkwan even thanks him for it, bounding into his office with a bright smile and a light tan from his trip away.
“It’s a good stove,” Seokmin tells him as they’re closing one night. Jeonghan has already ducked out, Seungkwan gone. Minghao is with them, though. They’re fiddling with their lighter, impatient as Seokmin tries his hand at smalltalk.
“You’re not meant to be in the kitchen, either.”
“Hao made me grilled cheese,” he shrugs.
They have a machine for that specifically, but he doesn’t pass comment. If they did employee of the month— which they never will— Joshua is sure Seokmin would win. His sunny attitude, and bright smile bring customers back, his ability to put everyone at ease keeping their clients happy.
Minghao’s talented coffee skills help, though. “It is good. And, the non-stick frying pan they sent as a free gift is a dream.”
“A dream,” Seokmin repeats, tone light.
Minghao rolls their eyes, stepping away to finally spark up the cigarette they’ve had hanging between their lips since the front door shut behind them all.
“We could use a new microwave. You could blow that up next. Or a dishwasher.”
“The dishwasher’s fine,” Joshua tuts.
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m pretty sure the insurance company would notice if everything in our kitchen started falling apart.”
“He just wants to see the firemen.”
Joshua glances Minghao's direction, pocketing the key before looking back at his friend. “Not you, too.”
“Oh, c’mon!” Seokmin whines like a child, stepping away from the cafe, shoving his friend. “You’re making me sound bad.”
“You are bad.”
“Hao, not all of us have doting boyfriends from high school to keep us entertained. Joshua, if you’re a real friend, you’ll set fire to the oven and find me a boyfriend.”
Joshua shakes them both off, departing to his car. He can’t think about firefighters. Can’t think about Wonwoo. He’s embarrassed now.
He’d been so sure. Just for a moment— yeah— but still! He’d been sure. There had been an energy there. A build-up. Wonwoo had teased him, checked him out, and seemed entertained by him. Joshua isn’t an idiot. He knows Wonwoo is good looking, but so is he!
After two weeks, he wonders if something has happened.
The thought comes to him when he’s about to sleep one night, a shiver running up his spine. Wonwoo is a fireman. Fire. He feels like an idiot, then. He’s at home— moping— while Wonwoo is on the frontlines of God knows what. He’s dealing with emergencies, running into burning buildings, risking his life. Anything could have happened.
Still, Joshua likes holding a grudge.
Their text chain remains empty, his text originally typed by Wonwoo stays delivered, ignored by its owner.
And, Joshua simply decides he doesn’t care.
🚒
Except he does care. He revisits the empty text chain for another week, swallowing disappointment, ignoring the surge his heart gives every time a text chimes into his notifications.
He decides, exactly a month to the day after his incident, that he never wants to see a fireman again.
The world hates him, however.
“Joshua, right?”
He looks up from his notebook, twisting to stare over the counter. The tall fireman— Wonwoo’s co-worker he never got the name of— is beaming at him. He’s in regular clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. But Joshua is sure it’s him.
“Yeah,” he quickly replies, trying to manage his surprise. “I never got your name, I’m sorry, you’re—“
“Mingyu,” the man answers, canines on show. “I didn’t know you still worked here.”
Joshua blinks. “I own the place.”
He watches Mingyu’s complexion darken, cheeks firetruck red as he stammers a reply. “Oh! Right, well— You just haven’t been here the past few times I’ve been in.”
Joshua is only behind the counter to take stock of the t-shirts they have stacked on a shelf beside the chalkboard menu so he doesn’t take offense. Most of his days are spent only appearing in front of customers when he’s begging Minghao to give him a refill.
But the news of Mingyu paying more than one visit surprises him.
“You come in a lot?”
“Yeah, I—“
“God, you’re back.”
They both look at the entrance to the back, Seokmin’s unimpressed tone directed at Mingyu entirely.
“Hi Seokmin,” Mingyu grins.
Joshua can’t recall the last time he saw Seokmin scowl so he watches with interest as his lips tip down, expression darkening a little. “Mingyu.”
First-name basis, Joshua notes.
“You two know each other?”
Seokmin looks even less impressed with Joshua for asking something so directly. “He's here almost everyday.”
It’s news to him. He’s been in everyday. He can vaguely recall Seokmin grumbling about a new regular the other day, irritated by his unwavering sunny attitude. Joshua had thought it was ironic at the time— someone too happy for Seokmin’s liking sounded crazy.
But he thinks he can see it now. Mingyu seems unflappable at the irritated tone Seokmin has adopted to discuss him like he’s not even there.
“Too much energy.”
“Right,” Joshua nods. He flashes Mingyu an apologetic look, but the taller one is looking at Seokmin, seemingly content.
“Can I get my usual, please?” He sweetly asks, already holding cash out.
For all his irritation towards firefighters— namely Wonwoo— Joshua feels a twist in his gut at the gesture. “Anything he orders is on the house from now on, Min.”
Joshua watches something in Seokmin’s jaw twitch before he twists to look at his boss. “He orders ridiculous frappuccinos. Minghao’s probably not here because they heard he was coming back, and needed to flee! And you want us to just give it away?”
“Him and his team are the only reason the cafe is still standing after the fire last month, so yeah. We just give it away to him, and to anyone he brings in,” Joshua explains, trying not to groan at the reminder of him.
Mingyu is blushing again when Seokmin looks at him again, eyes narrowed. “You’re a firefighter?”
“Only on weekdays.”
Joshua mentally recalls Seokmin’s grumbles of wanting a boyfriend— firefighter specific— the annoyance on his features feeling all the more entertaining.
He wants to prod his friend, tease him. Tell him to be careful what he wishes for.
Instead, he decides to be mature, and do his job.
“Great seeing you Mingyu.”
He’s already half-way through the door when Mingyu manages his reply. “You too! Hey, can you do me a favour?”
He stops in the doorway, looking back. He can’t really say no, he figures, nodding his head.
“Can you call Wonwoo?”
Joshua raises an eyebrow.
“He broke his phone. It was a whole thing, a swimming pool fire thing— he tells the story better than me. Anyway, he had to get a new phone, lost your number entirely,” Mingyu explains, guiding through the story like he rehearsed it. “He was too embarrassed to come here himself… He’s a little intimidated, I think…”
“By me?”
Intimidated by Joshua? The guy he literally had to carry from a cake and custard related fire? He can’t even wrap his head around it. The concept is entirely implausible.
But Mingyu nods. “Yeah, he’s not great at the whole ‘dating’ thing, so… I told him I’d mention it to you if I saw you, but you haven’t been here anytime I have.”
All Josh can bring himself to do is nod, swallowing the information. He silently prays Seokmin isn’t paying that much attention, hopes he hasn’t heard the name Wonwoo before, committing it to memory. “Yeah, I’ll give him a call.”
Mingyu beams again, smile taking up half his face before Seokmin clicks his fingers in front of him again. It’s a little rude, but Mingyu doesn’t seem to think that. In fact— and Joshua wasn’t even sure it was possible— his expression brightens considerably.
🚒
Joshua’s finger hovers over the call button for two days before he finally bites the bullet, and actually presses it. He waits, keeping his phone in his hand, watching the ‘ringing’ word with suspicion.
‘Wonwoo (FIREMAN)’ picks up after seven rings.
“Hello, Jeon Wonwoo speaking.”
He sounds professional; almost robotic. Yet he sounds so familiar. A month without hearing his voice has made Joshua want to savour it, holding it for a moment.
He only realises he’s paused for too long when Wonwoo speaks up again. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
There’s a beat of silence, and Joshua wonders if he should have supplied his first and last name, too.
But Wonwoo clearly recognises him from the way he says, “Joshua?”
It’s a relief. Clearly the impact of their meeting is still there. Wonwoo can recognise him from one word. He’s counting it as a win.
He’s still a little spiteful, however.
“You never called.”
“I wanted to!” Wonwoo breathes out, like the confrontation is a relief. “Really! I was on a twenty-hour shift, and I had plans to call when it was done!”
“Yeah?”
“And, then someone was drowning, so I had to jump into a pool in all my gear, forgetting my phone was in my pocket.”
Saving a life. He was literally saving a life, and Joshua has been annoyed he didn’t call. He feels a little stupid now, lets the ache settle into his chest. But he’s never one to leave things alone.
“You know where I work.”
He can almost picture the man hesitating, mouth open as he thinks of what to say. Joshua waits, finger tapping against his kitchen counter boredly.
“You had my number, too.”
Joshua scoffs. “For emergencies.”
“You could have lied!”
“I would never want to waste a first-responder's time like that,” Joshua earnestly replies.
“I’m sure nothing with you is a waste of time,” Wonwoo quips back, and Joshua wants to groan.
This is it. This is what has kept him coming back to his delivered text, no reply. This is what has kept him up at night, flipping the interaction over in his mind continuously. Wonwoo— with his stupid broad shoulders, and his gentle smile— has burrowed into Joshua’s mind, and made a home for himself.
It makes him sick how he can just get away with it, too.
“Well, you have my number again now. No excuses this time,” Joshua bites back, trying to muster some courage.
“No excuses,” Wonwoo agrees. “Except…”
Joshua is sure his stomach hasn’t dropped so violently since his last time on a rollercoaster. He’s practically wringing his hand as he listens to the quiet hitch of Wonwoo’s breath.
“Well, really, I wasn’t lying…. It really isn’t allowed…”
Fraternisation. The word echoes around his head embarrassingly, as if it’s some sort of secret shame. He shouldn’t have called, he decides. This is almost as bad as getting carried through the shop. Wonwoo told him— weeks ago now— that it wasn’t allowed. And yet here he is making a fool out of himself.
And yet—
“Are you around this weekend?”
“This weekend?”
“Yeah, I have some time off. We could go for a… Not drink…..”
Joshua scrunches his nose. “A not drink?”
“We could bump into each other…. At a pre-planned location.”
“Do your employers have your phone tapped?” Joshua asks.
There’s a beat of silence.
“No?”
“Okay, can you ask me out properly, then?”
Wonwoo laughs melodically through the phone, almost sounding relieved. “I wanted plausible deniability!”
“Just ask me out,” he requests again.
“Joshua, do you want to go out this weekend?”
“Yes, Wonwoo, I do.”
🚒
He’s not nervous. Joshua is stubbornly refusing to be nervous. It’s a date. That’s all. Sure, he hasn’t been on one in a while, but he’s been on one before! He knows how to function like a normal person in these situations.
Still, he spends Saturday unable to think straight, staring at his computer screen with a glazed over look in his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Joshua jumps so forcibly his knee smacks off the cabinet beside his desk, Jeonghan startling him. “Jesus, knock first!”
“I did knock,” Jeonghan snipes, snapping the door shut behind him.
Joshua’s office isn’t huge. He’s made room for his desk, three filing cabinets, two chairs opposite his desk for meetings. He’s not sure why he ever bought the chairs, though. Most of their meetings were held in the front, and Jeonghan— his most frequent visitor— habitually perched on the side of Joshua’s desk.
He does it now, rounding the desk to lean against the corner, staring down at his best friend. “What’s going on?”
He can’t tell Jeonghan, he realises. He spent too many hours ribbing him about his ex, complaining about the books they passed in shops showcasing firefighters sculpted abs. He wouldn’t survive a conversation about his upcoming date without his best friend bullying him for the rest of his life.
He does need advice, though.
“I have a date tonight,” he finally lands on saying, trying to ignore the way Jeonghan gasps dramatically, hand covering his mouth. “Stop.”
“A date…. My Joshua…. A date….My—“
“Cut that out,” he sighs.
Jeonghan reaches out, ruffling his hair before he can escape. “You’re so grown up!”
It’s not a thing. It’s not a thing because Joshua refuses to make it one. Jeonghan has other ideas, though. He’s sure that Joshua has an aversion to dating that should be studied in a lab, explored by a therapist. He’s been sleeping his way through the gay clubs of LA since he was 19, his occasional pit stops for coffee or dinner mainly a segway to get into bed with someone new. He knows that’s why Jeonghan is ruffling his hair, acting like the proud father of a reformed menacing son.
“Forget it.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Who is it?”
He shrugs, feigning a casual air. “Just a guy I met.”
He can hear the cogs in his friend's head turning, the information setting. He can tell that Jeonghan is suspicious, head tilting as he considers him. He remembers Seokmin witnessing Mingyu begging him to call Wonwoo, but he figures he’s safe as Jeonghan hums, “A guy you met.”
“Yeah.”
Joshua watches as Jeonghan takes a breath, recalculating his movements. He’s trying to approach the situation like Joshua is a cat who could bolt at any second. Joshua pretends he doesn’t mind, neutralising his expression as much as possible.
“So you met this guy… And didn’t sleep with him prior to him asking you out?”
"Did you come in here for a reason?" Joshua huffs.
"Minghao wants to ask about a new coffee brand, or something. More organic, I think,” he shrugs, smiling smugly.
"Tell them it's fine," he shrugs. "They know more about coffee than either of us."
"That's a gender stereotype," Jeonghan bites out.
Joshua rolls his eyes this time, fully. "They went to barista school. They have a certificate."
Jeonghan shrugs, getting up again. He brushes nothing off his lap, fixing his t-shirt. "Good luck, anyway. Use protection…"
Joshua tosses a pen at him. “It’s not like that this time…”
Jeonghan stops at the door, serious expression replacing whatever amusement he was harbouring. “Well, good luck, anyway. You deserve something nice like a proper date. It’ll be good for you.”
It’s sincere enough that Joshua has to take a moment to collect his thoughts, swallowing. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”
🚒
The bar Wonwoo drives them to has candles on every table, a greeter at the door who offers them menus with a smile. Joshua realises he's on a real date when Wonwoo actually voices his desire for a table for two, somewhere in the back.
"What happened to not drinks?" Joshua asks when he sits down at the small table. It feels intimate, now. He feels underdressed, his slacks and white t-shirt feeling a little out of place next to the button-up Wonwoo wears.
But Wonwoo appears to be entirely at ease as he pages through the menu. "I figured you could eat."
He's overly confident, Joshua thinks to himself. But he's hungry. He was sort of dreading a night of drinking on an empty stomach, his sandwich from lunch not really enough to tide him over to breakfast.
"We can go to the bar if you want."
"No," Joshua hums, opening his own menu. He ignores the way Wonwoo tracks the movement, ignores the way a smile flickers to his lips. "I could eat."
It's easy, he realises. The whole thing feels easy. Wonwoo had picked him up— punctual as ever— driving them through streets Joshua recognised until they reached some he didn't. Wonwoo made small talk the whole way, and— somehow— Joshua didn't even find it boring. He found himself nodding along. Found himself complimenting the sunny LA weather they were experiencing, found himself mentioning how bad traffic has been recently, found himself caring about Wonwoo's opinion on the houses they drove past, the gardens he complimented.
It's still easy when Wonwoo orders, Joshua following his lead. Pasta for both of them, different dishes, but both tomato based. Wine to pair it with, a heavy red that Wonwoo looks to Joshua to pick. He chooses randomly, an Italian bottle screaming out to him.
"So," Wonwoo begins when they're left alone again. "I should tell you I don't usually do this."
"Eat dinner?"
He laughs quietly, shaking his head as if Joshua is a character worth disbelief. "Dinner with people I've met on the job."
"Ah," Joshua nods, resting his chin on his fist. "I don't usually do this either?"
"Eat dinner with people who tug you from burning buildings?"
"I don't usually date…"
“Well, this is… It’s a non-date, if you think about it,” Wonwoo prods, smile twisting into something mischievous. "You had questions about fire safety. I'm just here giving you a reminder."
It's a ridiculous tease, a ridiculous ruse to keep up. But Joshua finds himself smiling, nodding back. "Right."
The waitress drops their drinks off with a smile, their food a little while later. They eat between questions, between laughter.
Joshua explains how he ended up running a cafe, how he ended up roped into one of Jeonghan's ideas. He recounts his days at college, his days in battle with his own mind as he fought the ideas of going to an office everyday. "I woke up one day, and I thought I'd die if I had to sit in a cubicle all day everyday."
"I felt the same," Wonwoo admits, fork digging through his pasta. "I was doing an English degree, no real goal for the end of it. But all my friends were preparing for jobs like that. I said one night I'd rather run into a burning building than wear a tie everyday. I guess it stuck."
Joshua gives him a look, incredulous to the smile Wonwoo offers back. He's ridiculous, he decides. Completely ridiculous.
Joshua likes him, he also decides, sipping his wine.
"Do you get a lot of questions about the job?"
"Sometimes," Wonwoo shrugs. "I used to try to use dating apps, but I gave up because people would spend the whole date just asking me if fire is hot."
"Ah," Joshua hums, pushing his almost-empty plate away from himself. "First hand experience, so I don't need to ask."
Wonwoo chuckles. "Yeah, I suppose that's a perk to this."
"There could be others," Joshua lets out. He regrets it for a moment— he wonders if the line is good enough to charm the man across the table, if the rusty bat of his eyelashes is endearing enough to him.
But Wonwoo doesn't seem to mind. His eyes flicker towards Joshua's lips for a moment, meeting his eye again with a slow nod. "I'm sure there could."
Wonwoo pays the bill before Joshua can pull out his wallet. He signs the dotted line of their receipt, dropping cash for the tip, ignoring the small pout on Joshua's lips.
"I said I was buying you a drink."
"And then I tricked you into dinner," Wonwoo shrugs, getting out of his chair. "Entirely on me."
"You're ridiculous," Joshua settles on, but he stands up too.
"You can get the next one."
The words land in his chest with a bang, his smile twitching as he lets Wonwoo take his hand, tugging him towards the door. Next one. There’s more to come.
There's something charged when they get into the car. Something pleasantly warm. Wonwoo keeps his hand on Joshua's thigh as he drives them back down the roads they travelled when the sun was still up. His thumb taps along to the beat of whatever song his radio plays. Joshua leans into it, keeps his eyes on Wonwoo as he drives, keeps his mouth shut as he watches the way Wonwoo grips his wheel with one hand.
Wonwoo switches off the engine when they arrive at Joshua's building. It's a little presumptuous, he thinks. But he supposes he has a right to. The words are already on the tip of Joshua's tongue.
"Do you want to come in? For a drink?"
Wonwoo licks his lips, a subconscious action that has Joshua staring. And then he nods, pulling his key out, pushing his door open. He rounds the car in record time to open Joshua's door, hand settling on the small of his back as they make their way inside.
Joshua has to fiddle with his key before they finally get in, the door shutting behind them with a click. He wracks his brain for a moment, trying to remember if he even has anything to drink.
He realises, slowly, that he needn't worry.
"Can I kiss you?" Wonwoo asks after staring for more seconds than Joshua can keep track of.
"Please," he practically breathes.
And then they're stumbling into each other, rouse of a drink dying as their lips find each other, the small push of pressure grounding them both. Joshua's hand grips the front of Wonwoo's shirt, the taller's hands finding a home on Joshua's waist. They melt against one another, bodies bumping into each other to try and get closer, hands dragging each other in.
Joshua has been kissed before. He likes kissing, likes the back and forth, the feeling of being wanted. He likes when it gets a little messy, likes the way it feels to have someone breathe into your mouth, share your breath, share your touch.
It feels amplified with Wonwoo.
His body feels like it could burst into flames as Wonwoo’s fingers trail against the skin under his t-shirt. He kisses Joshua like he means it, like he’s making up for lost time. He even confirms it, when he pulls back, breathing a little heavier, cupping Joshua’s cheek. “I should have come to the cafe to see you.”
“Send Mingyu a gift basket,” Joshua dismisses, and pulls him back in again.
His body feels charged as he guides Wonwoo back to his room, any assumption of a drink gone completely. He’s been thinking about this for a month, wondering what it would be like, wondering how he would react in the situation. His impatience pulls him forward, keeps him going until his legs hit the mattress.
Wonwoo pulls away briefly, pulling his shirt over his head. Joshua blinks a few times before dropping onto his bed, staring up at him. He gets it, he thinks. He understands why Cora was going crazy, understands why Jeonghan was willing to take back his ex. If he saw this– shirtless Wonwoo– on the front of a calendar in overalls, he’d probably buy it, too.
He wonders if Wonwoo would make him a personalized version.
“Joshua?”
He blinks again, eyebrows raising.
“I asked if you’re okay?” Wonwoo– apparently– repeats.
“I’m good,” Joshua nods, dragging his eyes away from his chest. “Are you going to take your trousers off, or are you waiting for something?”
Wonwoo takes a breath before he laughs, face flushed as his fingers fumble with his button. Joshua watches, making no move to help, keeping himself fully dressed. He wants Wonwoo to take his clothes off for him, wants to see his hands fumble with Joshua’s belt while he lies on his bed, mentally preparing.
Wonwoo seems to understand this without Joshua even needing to speak. He drops his trousers in the corner, and then returns to pull Joshua’s shirt over his head, eyes wandering the expanse of his chest. He’s always been confident in his appearance, but the weight of Wonwoo’s gaze makes him flush, red spreading down his neck as he watches the man carefully guide his belt from around his hips.
He helps Wonwoo shimmy his jeans from his legs, lying back to watch him drop them beside his trousers. When he looks back at Joshua, he looks like he wants to devour him. It makes something twist in his gut, his heart beating too quickly, eyes narrowed as he stares up at him.
“You’re really beautiful,” Wonwoo tells him, tone completely serious and sincere. It momentarily knocks the air out of Joshua’s lungs, his breath hitching in his throat. Wonwoo stands over him, finger’s featherlight in their touch as he cups Joshua’s cheek again. “I mean it.”
Joshua swallows nothing, mouth suddenly dry at the vulnerability.
He likes the weight of Wonwoo’s body against his own, pressing him into the mattress as he hovers over him to kiss him again, slower this time, deeper. It almost feels like all the air in the room has been sucked away, the only anchor to real life being Wonwoo’s tongue against his mouth moving as if he might devour him whole.
“Can I fuck you?” Wonwoo asks in between kisses against Joshua’s collarbone.
The way he voices it sounds a little filthy, but it just turns Joshua on more, his head nodding quickly. “Please.”
Wonwoo takes his time opening him up, utilising the lube from Joshua’s bedside drawer, keeping his touch gentle. He peppers questions of “are you okay” between each movement, other hand holding Joshua’s hip against the mattress to steady himself.
“More,” Joshua requests, the pleasure a little dizzying. His cock lazily leaks against his stomach, but Wonwoo pays it no mind, crooking his fingers a little deeper until Joshua cries out.
His heartbeat picks up when Wonwoo finally deems him ready, retracting to fumble through the pocket of his jeans from the floor, holding up the condom proudly.
He’s sort of a loser, Joshua realises, the dopey grin on the other man’s face oddly endearing to him. He seems to be trying not to seem over-enthusiastic as he pulls his boxers down, kicking them away, losing the nonchalance he handled Joshua with when he was fingering him open.
He leans up to watch Wonwoo roll his condom on, unable to help himself from wetting his lips at the sight. He’s magnificent, he thinks. He feels like his life— the jokes he made to his friends— have all come back to bite him in the ass. Jeon Wonwoo might be the death of him, he considers.
“Okay?” Wonwoo asks, kneeling on the edge of the bed.
“Okay,” Joshua nods, and spreads his legs a little, inviting him in.
Despite the low lighting of his room, he can see the way Wonwoo’s pupils dilate at the movement.
Wonwoo’s fingers are careful to trail up Joshua’s shin before he drags his nails down, circling his ankle. He tugs him closer to the edge of the bed with ease, the memory of Wonwoo carrying him through the cafe flickering through his mind. He wonders how much he works out, how long he spends in the gym in the firehouse, a myriad of questions filtering through his mind until he realises Wonwoo’s other hand is gripping his thigh, giving himself more space between his legs.
He should focus, Joshua realises. He’s about to get fucked, and he’s busy working out how much his partner can bench press. He wonders, heart stuttering, if Wonwoo could bench press him.
He pushes the thought away as the head of Wonwoo’s cock nudges against his rim, the feeling sending a shock through him.
Wonwoo is caring, slow to feed himself in, making an effort to let Joshua adjust bit-by-bit. He’s impatient by the time Wonwoo bottoms out, the feeling of fullness overwhelming him to simply gasp out, “Move, now.”
Joshua’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head when Wonwoo chuckles lowly, beginning to pick up the pace.
He can’t really remember the last time he got fucked well. He wonders if Wonwoo has come from some God above, his only task being to give Joshua the night of his life. His breath continues to catch in his throat, broken moans interrupted by occasional whines as Wonwoo does his best to hit his sweet spot.
“Good?” Wonwoo asks, breath heavy as Joshua cries out again.
All he can do is nod, back arching off the bed a bit, skin feeling hotter than usual. Wonwoo pistons into him like he has a point to prove, desperate to drive Joshua as crazy as possible, pleasure worming it’s way through his blood.
It’s almost embarrassing how fast his orgasm hits him, the air punched out of his lungs as his body tenses. Part of him is embarrassed, the desire for the night to continue crushed a little. His embarrassment subsides, however, when Wonwoo cries out, his own orgasm washing over him with a groan.
It’s not the best sex of his life, Joshua decides. They’ve both been impatient, both a little desperate.
It’s good, though. They have the ability to be something great, he decides, if they do this again. He’s praying, as Wonwoo ties off the condom, that they’ll do this again.
Joshua basks in the afterglow for a few minutes, careful not to move as Wonwoo pulls his boxers back on, disappearing to Joshua’s en-suite, returning with a cloth and a shy smile.
He’s polite about the way he cleans Joshua up, gentle as he helps Joshua up, hands him his underwear.
Joshua half expects him to leave when Wonwoo wanders towards his clothes again, but he just leans down to grab his phone, tapping it once before turning back to the bed.
He throws himself down like a sack of apples, landing with a quiet ‘oof’, eyeing Joshua expectantly. He slips an old t-shirt back on before joining Wonwoo again, slipping under his duvet to get comfortable.
Joshua stares at him for a moment, leaning up on his elbow to meet his eye. “You’re very good at that,” he compliments, face still a little flushed.
“Am I?”
“Don’t be coy,” he rolls his eyes, dropping onto his back again.
Wonwoo chuckles again. The sound is a little addictive. Stupidly addictive. Joshua wishes he could be funnier just to hear it again. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” he orders. “Just promise we can do it again.”
Wonwoo barks out a startled laugh now, shoulders shaking. “I thought that was a given!”
Joshua ignores the way his chest warms, pushes away the urge to grin like a crazy person.
Instead, he rolls to look at Wonwoo again, admiring in silence. Wonwoo looks back, eyes warm as he smiles a little. Joshua gives in this time, grinning back.