Work Text:
“They’re fighting again,” Intak says as he pushes through the door, warning the others who’d arrived just late enough to witness it firsthand. “Five minutes. Well… I hope it’s only five. We’re already so far behind the schedule for this month.” He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Why today, of all days? Out of every single day this month?”
“What is it about today?” Jongseob asks, already sighing. It’s happened so often they all know the drill by now: stay as far away as possible from the ticking bomb embodied by two grown men who fight like it’s some ritual they have to complete just to get through the day. “My headphones are over there, man.” He rolls his eyes, annoyance slipping into his tone as he drops down beside the older one.
“Jiung hyung got annoyed at the way Keeho hyung was standing while we were sorting out the warm-up music earlier,” Intak says, waving at Taeyang as the older man looks up from his phone and walks over to them, sunglasses perched on his face—despite the complete lack of sun, common sense, or any logical reason at all. But it’s Choi Taeyang, so at this point no one even questions it.
“The way Keeho stands?” Taeyang asks, plucking one earphone out of his left ear as he slides his sunglasses off and tucks them into his jeans pocket, brows knitting at what nonsense he just heard. “What way? Did he fucking backflip and flip everyone off in the process or what, to piss Jiung off this early in the morning?”
Intak shakes his head, grabbing the small towel draped around his neck to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead—left over from his own “warm-up session” that was honestly too intense to even be called that, especially this early in the morning.
“Apparently, Keeho hyung had his hips angled too much to the right for Jiung’s eyes to handle,” he explains, a grin tugging at his lips at how ridiculous it sounds even as he says it. “So he snapped—said Keeho hyung’s just an attention seeker who wants all the focus on him. That he’s only serving a pretty face instead of donating actual dance quality to the team.”
Shota looks at Intak at that, giggling along when the latter finally breaks into a silly laugh, clearly entertained by the way their older members behave around each other. Well—Taeyang excluded, because he’s already striding toward the door, pushing it open as he mutters, “fucking losers,” under his breath.
And that’s when they all hear it.
The screams.
“And you’re always hating on me for no reason, you absolute idiot! What the hell did I do to you?”
“Well… maybe, I don’t know… stand like a normal human being? You’re the leader—standing like that makes people think we’re… I don’t know… doing interpretive dance or something.”
“What the hell are you talking about? How can I stand wrong?”
“The way you stand. There! The gay stance.”
“I am gay, you homophobic asshole!”
The shouts ricochet back and forth, bouncing between the boy sitting on the floor and the other boy standing there in well… the gay stance. Keeho’s glare could melt steel at this point, already itching to unleash another round of screams—until his eyes land on Taeyang, who’s just stepped in, letting out a long, relieved sigh.
“Taeyang-ah, help me. He said I stand like a gay man! Fucking homophobic!” Keeho starts, marching toward Taeyang, a pout already etched on his lips as he finger-points accusingly at Jiung. Clearly, he’s calling for backup now that the oldest among them has finally arrived. “He’s being mean to me! As always!”
Taeyang strides across the room, the other members trailing behind like little ducklings, and drops his bag on a chair at the back before finally yanks his earphones out.
“You’re gay, baby. It’s not being mean if it's the truth,” he says, deadpan, before shrugging into some warm-up stretches, gearing himself up for a full day of—of course—nonstop dance practice.
Keeho can’t even deepen his pout in peace before Jiung’s laugh shatters the room—a full-throttle, chest-shaking laugh that’s guaranteed to leave his stomach sore later. And when Jiung keeps it up for a full minute, Keeho snaps, jumping on him. The two of them tumble to the floor, crashing in a heap.
“I fucking hate you. Ughhh, stop laughing now, Choi Jiung!” Keeho whines, flailing a playful punch at Jiung’s chest—clearly not meant to hurt him.
But Jiung doubles down, laughter shaking even harder, now joined by the rest of the members and Keeho’s whines only grow louder, escalating into a full-blown protest against the collective hilarity.
“You fucking breathe like a squirrel!” Keeho shouts, glaring down at the boy he’s now straddling, huffing and puffing like a five-year-old caught trying to skip school on a rainy day.
“How the hell do squirrels breathe, you dumbass?” Jiung squeaks between laughs, clutching his stomach because it hurts too much to stop. “You’re just saying anything now, dude,” he continues, laughing harder as Keeho flails more punches—now aiming for his face too, screaming absolute nonsense with every swing.
Taeyang walks over, hand on his hip, watching them for a full minute before clapping his hands together. He grabs Keeho by the arms—under his armpits and hauls him off the still-laughing boy, setting him back on his feet. He takes a moment to look at the disheveled mess formed in a single body in front of him, softly smooths down his jacket, and wraps him in a calming hug. Keeho’s pout hasn’t budged, though; now he’s glaring at Taeyang like he’s personally offended the universe.
“You didn’t back me up,” he mutters into Taeyang’s shoulder, pout dripping from his voice as he finger-points at the rest of the members, who are just shaking their heads in amusement while moving to their spots for practice. “All of you are fakes… I’m in a fake group,” he mumbles, indignation barely masking the lingering silliness.
Taeyang strokes Keeho’s soft blonde hair then, pressing a few playful kisses to the strands before cupping his face in both hands and squishing them together like a fish. “Shut up and let’s fucking get through today. One more fight and I’m putting salt in your drinks,” he says with a grin, letting Keeho go and moving into his own spot.
And just like that, the day flows smoothly into nonstop dance practice.
Keeho is freshly out of his shower—the two-hour marathon shower (yes, Shota had to retreat to another room because he couldn’t hold his pee anymore), stands in just his shorts with a towel draped over his head—when suddenly, he feels hands wrap around his waist.
“I brought ice cream,” the voice whispers softly, tugging playfully at the ties on Keeho’s shorts before spinning him around to face him, “and Greek yogurt. A whole tub. You can finish it this time, and I won’t be mad, I promise,” he adds with a grin.
Keeho huffs through his nose, trying to wriggle out of the hold, only to be firmly stopped by the slightly smaller but undeniably stronger man. “I was planning to ignore you until tomorrow,” Keeho mutters as he glares, tugging at his towel to dry his hair—only for it to be snatched away in an instant by the man in front of him.
Jiung smiles at the response before guiding Keeho to sit on the chair in front of the dressing table at the side of the room, making sure he’s comfortable. He plugs in the hairdryer and begins drying Keeho’s hair properly, working with careful, steady motions behind him.
“You can hug me to sleep tonight. Big spoon, little spoon… whatever you want,” Jiung continues, bribing the man sitting on the chair with a soft grin as his hands move gently through Keeho’s damp hair, occasionally playing with the soft strands as his eyes catch Keeho’s through the mirror.
“No pillow in the middle like usual. Full-on cuddle tonight. Be as annoying as you want. Intak and Shota can fuck themselves. And I already told Taeyang I’m not coming back to the dorm,” he adds, finally switching off the hairdryer and tidying Keeho’s hair a bit before leaning close to whisper in his ear.
“I’ll even let you trace the tattoo on my thigh. The one you’re obsessed with. How about that?” he murmurs, grinning as he feels Keeho tense under his hand on the shoulder.
Keeho meets his gaze in the mirror and finally nods. “Sure. But I wanna paint the butterflies red,” he says, breaking into a fit of giggles just as Jiung tries, and fails to stifle a flustered cough this time. And the crescent moon too. And I’m coming with you for the next tattoo session,” he adds, standing up to finally put on a shirt, cheeks still flushed from laughter.
Jiung smiles, stepping closer and sliding his hands around Keeho’s waist again, fingers slipping lightly beneath his shirt after guiding Keeho’s to rest on his shoulders.
“Whatever you want,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a small, soft peck to Keeho’s lips. “Am I forgiven now?” he asks, letting his fingertips trace lightly over the bare skin at Keeho’s sides, teasing with a gentle touch.
Keeho pouts slightly, eyes half-lidded with the comfort of being so close to his boyfriend. “But you said I’m gay,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath as Jiung’s hands teasingly drift lower, down to his shorts.
Jiung chuckles, a low, teasing sound. “Am I wrong, though?” he asks, laughing a bit more as Keeho whines, warm breath fanning over his skin when he rests his head on Jiung’s shoulder.
Keeho whines again when Jiung’s hand drifts just slightly inside the shorts now, fingers roaming around the skin of his ass before his middle finger comes to check something. He smirks as he makes a shocked sound, leaning in, voice dropping to a soft whisper. “You were having fun in the shower, huh?” he murmurs, smirking as Keeho nods subtly against his shoulder, soft moans now filling his ears as the finger continues to jab deeper.
He then slips his phone from his pocket using his free hand, quickly messaging Intak and Shota to stay at the other dorm for the night—for their own good—before tugging Keeho and forcefully pushing him down onto the bed. Keeho bounces slightly on impact as Jiung quickly settles on top of him.
“I won’t be soft with you tonight, by the way,” he warns, a teasing glint in his eyes, before fully dives in.
The tension between them melts into a shared heat as they move together, the world outside the room fading away. Keeho’s whines and Jiung’s groans mingle, breaths quick and uneven, marking the start of an intimate, intense moment entirely their own.
Bickering while being in love to the point of driving the rest of the members mad at them for their whole career? Yeah… sounds about right.