Part One / Part Two / Part Three (You Are Here)
Complete Thing on A03
Sure enough, Jason Carver had brought a priest.
The idiot himself stood next to the guy, smugly grinning like a hunter posing with his prized buck, a small crowd already gathering.
Opposing them was Michael Wheeler, hands planted on Hellfire’s table and back up like a pissed off cat’s, mouth moving faster than Eddie thought possible.
He couldn’t hear what Wheeler was saying.
Frankly did not want to know what Wheeler was saying, and could only do his damndest to intervene before Mike tanked the situation entirely.
Gareth and Jeff flanked him, both tense as hell. Neither had backed down though, standing tall and holding ground even as Jason pulled more and more people into his little spectacle.
Lucas and Grant on the other hand, were standing off to the side.
They weren’t cowering exactly, but both were definitely wincing as Gareth opened his mouth to add his own two cents.
Given the scowl on the priest, it was probably something nasty,
‘Fuck.’ Eddie thought, teeth clenched, as Jason drew out his arms, making an even bigger production for his little audience. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’
The worst thing of all?
Dustin managed to reach the group before anyone else did.
Wheeler and Emerson might have low charisma, but Dustin had a particular combination of snark and a know-it-all attitude that really pissed off authority figures.
(And Eddie would know, given he was the reigning champion of pissing off authority figures.)
He did, however, slide in right in time to hear the priest respond.
“I don’t care for your tone, young man. Jason here has some concerns over your club and I have to agree, what I see is quite,” The guy paused, jowls jiggling as he looked over their table, clearly eyeing Hellfire’s logo. “alarming.”
At least wasn’t an actual sermon.
Not yet, anyway.
Eddie came up right inbetween Mike and Dustin, intending to make himself out to be the new target for all to aim at.
There was an art to making yourself the sole owner of everything evil in this world, and Eddie had learned it all, trial by fire style.
“Carver is full of--” Mike snarled, and thankfully was cut off—not by Eddie, or the hand he’d just clamped onto Mike’s shoulder—but by Harrington.
Who sauntered right up as if he was joining everyone for dinner, and not walking into a circus act.
“Hello Father.” Harrington said, voice warm and welcoming. “Would you like some of our cookies? We have a sample platter.”
“Oh--Steve!” The priest blinked, actually blinked, that he was startled to see Hawkins’ golden boy appear next to him. “I’m sorry but no. I’m ah, here for other reasons.”
He paused so long it was nearly comedic before tentatively asking; “ Are you with this table?”
Like the guy couldn’t see the same Hellfire logo plastered across Steve’s ridiculous jock chest.
Eddie opened his mouth to give a resounding no, Hellfire shirt or not--when Mike of all people put an elbow into his side.
As if Eddie was the one who needed to be silenced.
“I am.” Steve put an arm down on Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing it in a way that looked like fond encouragement (but what Eddie was pretty sure was actually a warning in the same way the hand on Mike’s shoulder was.) “I came to help out my friends and fundraise.”
Then he beamed, face lighting up with the full Harrington charm, giga watt smile and all.
Now the priest just looked awkward.
“You’ve apparently been fundraising for what I have been told is a…Satanist Club?”
It was hilariously delicate, how the priest said it. Like now that a respectable member of Hawkins was here, he had to be more careful about what words he used.
Eddie would have interrupted then. Retake the reins and do what he did best in terms of making everyone forget about everything but him--except Carver was rounding on Harrington, and well.
He was always a fan of the rich eating each other.
“You cannot seriously be with these--these,” Jason’s eyes darted to between him and the priest, before physically reigning himself in. “hooligans, Harrington!”
“I’m sorry.” Harrington said, and whatever Jason had been expecting to get hit with, it wasn’t “good ol’ boy” southern charm.
He blinked, taking on the air of a kicked puppy who couldn’t understand why someone would be so mean as he glanced around the crowd. “I think I'm a little lost here.”
Jason clearly wasn’t prepared for that either.
“What?”
“This table is for a storytelling and math game.” Steve spoke slowly, in the same way one explained things to a toddler. “You have to roll dice and add the numbers up to do anything."
“It’s not a game, Steve.” Jason spat back. “It’s an evil trick made to tempt the susceptible minds of children to the dark arts!”
Personally, Eddie was amazed Carver even knew the word susceptible let alone be able to properly use it in a sentence.
(He tried to open his mouth to say so, and once again got elbowed, this time by Gareth.
The look he gave his younger friend could have melted steel beams.)
“That’s what this is about?” Harrington slid his arm off Dustin's shoulders, leaning back to look at the priest and the people around them in a show of blatant disbelief. “You think the nerd club is related to satanism?”
It was Eddie's own tactic--arguing that D&D was “using academic skills” and “making math fun!" not that Hellfire had ever been successful using it.
Of course, they weren’t Hawkins golden boy either.
Jason sputtered.
“It has monsters and--demons in it! It makes children do spells and sign over their souls!” He flung a hand out, for the first time acknowledging Eddie by pointing at his shirt. “Just look at that! It’s awful!”
"Hey." Eddie said, hand going over his very well drawn dragon.
“I once had to stop an argument about how much weight a wooden bridge could hold.” Steve countered, hands moving to his hips. “I only got them to stop by agreeing to take the kids to a library so they could look it up.”
He squinted, in Carver's direction, deadpanning; "I take it you think the library is evil now too?"
“The name of the club is called Hellfire!” Jason shrieked, sounding more like an angry teakettle than anything dangerous.
“Look I get that it sounds scary,” Steve said, the tiniest hint of pity entering his voice, “but they’re trying to make math problems and English essays sound cool. It’s the same reason Father John here calls our annual haunted house Hell House, isn’t it? So people go in it to begin with?”
Harrington turned to look expectantly at the priest, and Eddie had to admit it was an excellent way to both pander to the guy and sound like Jason was making a big deal out of nothing.
Perhaps, he’d stay quiet after all.
(Even if it went against Eddie’s entire being to do so.)
“Well, yes, but--” Father John had clearly picked up on the fact he was losing this particular argument, but plowed forward regardless. “Those activities are supervised by the church…”
“This is evil Harrington, and you should know better to promote it.” Carver tacked on, like this was a two bit comedy sketch.
“When I played it we just saved some poor town from a bad guy who set it on fire.” Steve rolled his eyes.
Then he leaned in, converting his voice into a stage whisper that somehow projected it, giving the impression that everyone around them was listening in on a secret.
“The doctor said it was a really good way for Dustin and Erica to process the mall fire. He’s a specialist--my mother managed to convince him to fly down to help all the kids who got hurt.”
Eddie was 100% sure that was total bullshit, but the mere mention of Harrington's mother had seemed to have an effect on the people around them.
Like Steve had invoked the name of an old but beloved God, not always benevolent but definitely memorable.
“She’s always been a champion of helping when you can.” Steve spoke to the priest, like they were having a conversation between just the two of them. “Encouraging people to volunteer and helping fundraise.”
“She has been." Father John said, in the kind of instant way one does when they don’t want to offend a very large donor. "Tell your mom I look forward to her coming back from her--ah, trip.”
With an awkward glance to the table, he added; “...I suppose I don’t see how math comes into play?”
“Oh it’s right from the start. Hey Jeff, come here, show Father John how you have to do a bunch of calculations and stuff to make a character.”
“Ah--right.” Jeff sprung to life, moving around the table to Steve.
“We uh, we start with this character sheet…”
“Eddie Munson runs the club.” Jason interrupted, before Steve could get Jeff to going.
“He’s right there! Does he look like this whole thing is just an innocent board game?”
This was a last ditch effort, and it was clear by the chattering that had started circling amongst their audience that everyone knew it.
Unfortunately, it was a good one.
This was the downside to making yourself a target. Once a bad guy, always a bad guy--particularly in the eyes of the PTA.
“Munson?” Harrington dismissed with a scoff. “He’s harmless.”
Which was news to most of their audience given the amount of attention Eddie suddenly had on him, but it was fine.
He was used to the disapproving stares and glares, and gave his best award winning smile in response.
Jason looked at Harrington like he’d lost his mind.
“He has skulls on his fingers for fucks sake!”
“Jason.” Steve admonished, in a perfect mimic of an upset southern mother. “Language.”
Carver's jaw dropped, face purpling in rage.
Steve ignored him, turning back to the Priest. “I don’t know what's gotten into him but I’m sorry Jason’s wasted your time, Father.”
“Munson is a drug dealer!” And ah, here came the Hail Mary move, Carver's one and only trump card.
“We all know he’s a drug dealer, and he’s using this--this game, to give drugs to kids!”
“Really?” Steve turned. “Lucas, what happens if I ever catch you smoking weed?”
Lucas answered instantly. “You’re going to make us run laps at five in the morning.”
“For a month.” Dustin added, with an exaggerated shudder.
It would have been too much--except his disgusted face sold it.
“Eddie’s just loud and wants to be a rockstar.” Harrington said, like this he was harmless.
No one on Steve's side of things had ever thought of Eddie as harmless.
“I’ve babysat these kids for years and Eddie was a huge help in making sure no one in high school messed with them.” He continued, like they were some sort of team or friends even.
(Like Eddie hadn't been at Harrington's throat all day, pissy and defensive.)
“We have a real bullying problem right now. Funny enough,” Steve’s nailed Jason with a look, “I keep hearing that it’s coming from the basketball team.”
“What are you implying?” Jason asked darkly.
“Just that it’s funny how nobody got caught fighting when I was team captain.” Steve returned.
God the man was such a bitch. Eddie kind of wanted to kiss him a little.
Okay, more than a little.
“I get you have some kind of beef with Munson, but let’s not drag a bunch of people into it. Especially not Father John.” Harrington was playing up to the mothers around him now, dismissing Carver entirely as he did so. “He’s a busy guy.”
“Very.” Said Father nodded solemnly. “I do not appreciate being pulled into a high school squabble.”
Jason’s mouth swam through shapes, words stuttering out of it. “This isn’t, thats not--”
“We can talk about this after church on Sunday.” Father John interrupted, the finishing blow to Carver's little show.
“You came all this way, at least have a cookie on us.” Steve said with an appeasing tone, reaching an arm back behind him.
Quick on the uptake, a cookie appeared in his hands.
He offered it out to the priest, who took it happily.
"Okay, who wants cake!?” He called, in a clear and obvious dismissal of Jason.
Who stood there, like he couldn’t believe what just happened.
His eyes slid to Eddie's, fists clenched tightly at his side, hatred pouring off him so strongly one could almost taste it.
Eddie winked at him.
(Unknown to him at the time, Jason had also looked at Steve--and Steve would wink too.)
xXx
Steve Harrington, who Eddie had been an absolute ass all day too, had looked Jason Carver, a Priest and half of Hawkins in the eye and announced that he, Eddie Munson, was a good person at heart.
It made Eddie want to vomit a little when he thought about it too hard.
“I know this is horrible timing,” Robin said, sidling up as the crowd finally dispersed, “but I really, really need to talk to you.”
Eddie turned, head full of far too many thoughts and ready to tell her such, when he caught sight of Buckley's face.
Was reminded, by the sheer nervous, ‘horse about to bolt’ vibe, that he owed it to Robin as a fellow queer not to be a dick about her accidental outing.
Even if all he wanted was to preen in the wake of Carver’s defeat.
‘See Mothers of Hawkins? Your own golden boy just gave me his stamp of approval!’
A mental image that immediately changed to Steve Harrington’s name stamped on his ass and dammit he had to get ahold of his thoughts before he fell down rabbit holes like this--!
“Back there, at the stairs,” Robin started, voice dropping low, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her eyes kept seeking out Steve, like he was some kind of safety net--which he probably was. “What um--what did you hear?”
It took a lot of guts to come talk to him, knowing what he'd overheard--particularly given they'd just fended off the church.
He'd never exactly underestimated Robin Buckley, but then, he'd never expected this level of badassery from her either.
“Eddie?” Robin prodded again, chewing hard on her bottom lip.
“Sorry, distracted.” Eddie waved a hand behind himself. “Not everyday the King decides to defend your honor to a priest.”
With a little bow, he offered his elbow out to her, a clear signal to take it and let him escort them away from unwanted ears.
In a show of bravery, Robin took his elbow and let him lead, even as she frowned up at him, looking like she was about to say something.
Likely it was in defense of Harrington, but Eddie had been interrupted enough for one day.
“You and His Highness over there really should be more aware of your surroundings." He started, voice low. "Lucky for you, you’re among friends. You and Dorothy both.”
He reached a foot out, tapping Robin’s own.
Right on top of a doodled pair of tits.
Robin let go of his elbow and glanced down, before flinging her head right back up, panicked.
"I--"
“If you’d like I can pretend I never heard a thing.” Eddie interrupted, dropping his voice into the gentler tone he reserved for delicate conversations.
People were always surprised by the lengths he went to make sure someone was comfortable--but then, people also forgot how often Eddie heard things he shouldn’t.
People didn't take drugs just for fun, after all.
“Or I can offer a friend of a friend discount on my wares,” He put a finger to his lips, miming smoking with one hand while he opened his vest with the other to flash the little pink triangle pin that sat inside, announcing his own sexualities status.
“and we can, say, discuss the differences between radical and social feminism while admiring the fine forms of Susan Sarandon and Peter Hinwood?”
The smile he gets is two parts relief, one part genuine delight and Eddie grinned right back at her, flicking his vest closed.
“I did not take you for a Peter Hinwood type.” Robin said it hesitantly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Thought you’d find Tim Curry’s…acting skills, more to your taste.”
“In the case of Rocky Horror? I am Tim Curry.” He announced, loud and proud (well for this kind of conversation at least.)
He was rewarded by the tension finally melting out of Robin’s shoulders.
(This, Eddie reflected, is what he should have been doing this entire time, instead of getting tied up in knots over Harrington and turning into some kind of non-conformist tyrant.)
“Do you actually know the differences between social and radical feminism?” Robin challenged, braver now, and Eddie knew then and there he’d been successful in assuring her her secret was safe.
That she was safe, with him.
“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Eddie said, giving a playful nudge to her shoulder.
Baths in the laugh he gets for it, and for the first time today feels like he’s finally on firmer ground.
They chatted for a moment longer, making a loop on the very outskirts of the gym, voices hushed when it came to things that small town ears shouldn’t overhear--but of course, Robin couldn’t just leave things at that.
“Hey Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you do me one more favor?”
“Anything for you, my favorite feminist.”
For the first time since this conversation started, Robin managed to sound firm.
“Stop referring to Steve as a King.”
She rushed ahead, anticipating being cut off, and thus Eddie is hit with a wave of words, none of which he’d ever thought he’d hear in relation to thee Steven Harrington.
“He’s working really hard to get away from it, the whole King thing and how he used to be. I don’t know what all he did to like--you guys,” She flapped her hand in the general direction of Hellfire, “and I know he wasn’t an innocent bystander, but I kinda realized over the summer that I blamed him for a lot of things that were in my own head, and that he wasn’t--he was never as bad as I thought he was and he's still trying to make it up to me anyway.”
Robin trailed off, seeming to try and piece out what she wanted to say next without giving away the whole farm. “It’s not some act, Eddie. Steve’s really trying to change.”
Which yeah.
Eddie could see that, now.
Maybe not before but…
“Okay.” He said, after a long, long moment. “No more King Steve. Got it.”
The smile he got for that also felt like a victory, even if it was wrenched out of him.
xXx
Two hours and a dispersed crowd later, Eddie found himself once again stuck in his own head.
The facts were thus:
Steve Harrington was a good dude.
He used his good dude-ness to save Hellfire from a literal priest, right smack in front of God and Principal Hairy Ass both
All of Hellfire actually liked him
According to Robin Buckley, Steve was entirely fine with “all us triangles” quote/unquote
And;
Eddie was jealous.
He was self aware enough to admit it, alongside the fact that Jason Carver aside, maybe Eddie had been the villain today instead of Steve.
Which meant he not only owed Harrington an apology, but he owed it to both of them to work out his own stupid shit before it blew up in his face and cost him all his friends.
(He’d have called this move “pulling a Harrington” before today but now that feels mean, which Eddie supposes signals he’s grown as a person or some shit.)
So now he sits on Steve’s beemer, knowing the move will likely antagonize the ex-jock but equally knowing he’s planning on jumping off the car the second the guy comes near, and that the move itself will get Harrington to listen to him the second he’s done supervising whatever Hellfire’s youngest is doing.
(Eating leftover cookies like the older members are as they finish packing up, Eddie assumes.)
Ducking out like he did had allowed him some much needed time to think things though. Figure out what he was going to say--without an audience present.
He’d apologize publicly if he had to. But being vulnerable is hard, and given the way his friends had been acting, Steve isn’t the only person he owes an apology to.
For now, he’ll begin here, without an audience.
Eddie doesn’t get to plan for long--only gets to rehearse a few lines of his little spiel when a pointed cough jerks him back to reality.
There stands Steve Harrington, a fat wad of cash in one hand and a box in the other.
Like a man sent to the gallows, Eddie leapt off the beemer, squaring his shoulders.
He could do this.
Apologize-- and mean it.
Not that Steve gave him the chance to.
“The guys told me to give this to you.” He said, holding out the cash. Then he took a breath, like he was preparing to go to war, and added;
“I know you weren’t happy with me being here, and you probably don’t want this, but Dustin said you really liked cinnamon brownies so I made you some.”
The box was now held out alongside the cash, proof that Steve had tried to start this whole thing off on the right foot.
Eddie stared at it, then at Steve.
Felt the guilt chew on his gut just that much harder.
“I have been shitty to you all day. Why are you giving me this?”
Steve shrugged.
“To be fair I didn’t exactly make it easy on you either. You said jump and I said ‘watch this’.” Steve laughed, a small, almost self depicting sound. “Dustin’s been on my ass all day about it.”
Of course he had.
“Mine too.” Eddie admitted. “It's his tone, I swear."
“Yes!”
Carefully, Eddie reached out, accepted the box and the cash.
“Thanks by the way. For the stuff you said about me earlier.”
Steve grimaced, cheeks tinting a (lickable) red. “Yeah sorry, I--”
“No not--not that stuff.’ Eddie said, mentally hauling his thoughts back in line, fiddling with the cash. “The stuff about being a good person. No one’s uh. Said that. About me.”
Not except for Wayne, but Harrington wouldn’t know nor care about Eddie’s uncle.
Steve shrugged. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
He’d argue that, except something was off.
It took Eddie a moment to place it--that the wad Steve handed over was way too big for the little bake sale they’d just attended.
He tucked the box under his arm, quickly counting the stack with a smoothness only drug dealers and bank tellers could manage.
“It’s all there, I promise.” Steve told him simply, but without judgment. He sounded like he expected this and that didn’t sit right with Eddie either.
Not that he could do anything about it because he’d just counted up didn’t make any sense.
Not trusting himself, Eddie stacked it back together, before counting it all again. He was faster this time, trying to figure out among all the ones, fives and tens how the hell they had managed to sell that many cookies.
Particularly considering the most expensive thing was one of the cakes and he’d watched Steve sell it for fifteen dollars.
So why were there three twenties sitting in the stack?
“Either you up charged the absolute shit out of someone’s mom, in which case I congratulate you, you sneaky devil,” Eddie said slowly, “Or you put extra cash in here.”
Steve blushed properly this time.
Eddie zeroed in on his face, watching as Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to pull his charming mask into place.
He didn't quite manage it.
Hadn’t even been wearing it before now, Eddie realized suddenly.
This entire conversation Steve had a realness to him that Eddie had never really seen.
Had maybe not wanted to see, from someone like Harrington.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Steve protested, like a kid who’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “That’s what we charged.”
“You are a terrible liar.” Eddie accused, hand trembling. “We can’t take this, man. This is a almost two hundred dollars.”
Way more than what they’d need for Gen Con. It was enough to get them two fuckin’ hotel rooms!
“If It helps any, I didn’t do it for you.” Steve’s blush slid into something more genuine, as he nodded his head to where Hellfire was spilling out of the gym doors, laughing and shoving one another.
“They deserve to have a good trip.” He added, eyes fond as he watched Dustin and Mike squabble over how to fold Hellfire's banner.
It made his whole face soften, the harsh features of his jaw turning into something that was so adorable Eddie wanted to bite through it.
“Do you want to come?” Someone said, and it took both Steve’s startled look and a second long pause for Eddie to realize that someone was him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid-!
“To the convention?” Steve asked, looking doubtful.
Pity that Eddie was already nodding, like his brain and his body were at a total disconnect.
Maybe aliens had finally taken him over. Or a demon.
(Demonic possession could frankly explain a lot about today, Carver’s weird little power play aside.)
“Dude you don’t even like me.” Steve said. “Why would you want me to come along?”
“I dunno Harrington. All of Hellfire seemed to like you, and not just my freshman.” Eddie countered easily, gliding right over the fact that he himself did like Steve.
Way more than he should, and that right there was half of Eddie’s problem.
“They have pretty good taste in things.” He waived a hand, as if this wasn’t a complete 180 from how he’d acted all day. “I could understand if you didn’t want to slum it with us nerds though.”
Steve rolled his eyes.
“I’ve been slumming it all day with you nerds, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Yeah? What’s your verdict on us?”
“Not as bad as you could be.”
Eddie tilted his head back and laughed. “High praise from the King!”
He felt bad immediately after, and made himself promise to be more mindful about Robin’s ask--but thankfully Harrington didn’t take it hard.
(Habits, Eddie knew, were hard to change.
Took a lot of careful attention to change.
He had a long road ahead of him, and he hoped this little olive branch put him a few miles down it.)
Steve awarded him a small smile. “I haven’t been the King for a long while, man. But if you guys have an opening, I think I wouldn’t mind being a knight or whatever.”
“Ste-eeeve Harrington, defender of the realm.” Eddie nodded once, decisively. “I can see it.”
He tucked away the cash, and thus missed how Steve looked weirdly contemplative at that.
Raised his head and stuck out a hand.
Tentatively, Steve took it.
“Welcome to the club, Harrington. We meet on Fridays. Bring snacks.”
“Cookies okay?”
“Going by Gareth’s judgment, they’re more than okay.”
Eddie smiled and Steve smiled back, and God how he hated how fucking cute Harrington’s face was.
Particularly since he now got to think of the guy as “Steve” without feeling weird about it.
As in his possible, potential, friend Steve.
What a fucking trip that was.
“Oh, and Steve?” He called, the thought hitting him as Steve turned to welcome the group making their way to the beemer.
Steve had let his hand fall, turning to open the front door of the Beemer with a cocked eyebrow.
Eddie flicked a finger out, lightly tapping the Hellfire logo. “Tell Lucas I’ll get him another shirt. That one’s all yours, big boy.”
If there was a pink hue to Harrington’s cheeks, he was blaming sunburn.
(Two months, six days, and one meddlesome asshole named Henderson later, and Eddie would find out that Steve had in fact, been blushing.
He’d be furious at Dustin’s involvement, if it hadn’t directly led to Eddie finding out Steve’s blush did in fact go down his chest.
And his happy trail.
And his--
Well.
Men do not kiss and tell.
Not to fucking freshmen, anyway.)
THERE IS A GEN CON, "THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED BECAUSE DUSTIN IS A MEDDLESOME SHIT" BONUS BUT it's on A03 cause it was long enough to be its own post and I wasn't gonna add it to this one. You can read it here LINK
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banana pancakes - seungcheol (m)
summary: when the city girl comes back home for the summer, the cocky diner owner tasks himself with making her feel welcome.
word count: 12k
warnings: not quite enemies to lovers, more like annoyance to lovers; smut, afab reader, gendered nicknames (mostly just city girl), oral (m receiving)
masterlist
seungcheol was in the middle of a lunch rush when you walked in. you looked frazzled and out of place, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. he almost dropped someone’s blt because he couldn’t stop staring. you however couldn’t figure out who in this dingy place could possibly be the owner, so you awkwardly stand to the side at the counter while you squint at the specials board.
“what’ll you have?” cheol asks as he rounds the bar, ending up at the cash register in front of you. “speak quickly.”
“excuse me?” you ask, taken aback.
“it’s busy, you’re holding up the line, order now or i’ll pick for you,” he tries again and you blink at him in shock. people in the city were rude, sure, but not like this.
“fine, order for me then,” you say as you hand him your card. “and add a black coffee. all of this is to go.”
“i scared you off so soon?” cheol smirks as he rings you up. “total’s two dollars and fifty cents.”
“uh, that’s all?”
“meal’s on me,” he shrugs. “won’t charge you for it if it ends up being something you don’t like.”
“oh, well, thanks,” you say as you sign the receipt. “when will it be ready?”
“when it’s ready,” cheol replies like it’s obvious.
“wonderful service here,” you say as you roll your eyes. you take a seat at the newly open stool at the counter and cheol tsks.
“seats are for customers who eat here,” cheol says while he gets to work with your coffee.
“make the food faster and i’ll leave sooner,” you counter back. cheol nods, smiling to himself as he goes to the back. when he reemerges he’s got one container in his hand that he drops off to you before skillfully helping everyone else at the counter. you watch in quiet appreciation, noticing how his buff chest makes his plaid shirt fight for its life to not pop open. you see bits of curly hair peeking out from under the backwards cap on his head, and-
“that’s the last of it,” cheol says as he drops another container off in front of you. he comes back a moment later with a bag and starts packing it up for you as he explains, “had some left over banana pancakes from breakfast, hope you’re fine with that even though it’s past noon.”
“no, that’s great,” you sputter out, “that’s my favorite kind actually.”
“noted,” cheol says as he holds your gaze for a moment. “then i made you some turkey sausage to go with it. hope it’s worth the two bucks.”
“i’m sure it will be,” you say as you grab the bag. “thanks-”
“cheol,” he smiles. “and you are?”
“y/n,” you reply. “you new here?”
“nope, but you are.”
“no i’m not,” you shake your head. “i grew up here. i’m just home for the summer.”
“from school?” cheol questions, wiping down the counter.
“my big city job, actually,” you reply. “i just quit so i need to live at home for a bit while i find a new one.”
“well it’s nice to meet you, city girl,” cheol smiles. “enjoy the food.”
“bit of advice?” you ask as you stand up, sipping your coffee. “fix the attitude. good coffee though.”
-
“and then he ended up paying for my food,” you finish explaining to your best friend, vernon. as soon as you left the diner you headed to vernon’s house (where he still lives with his parents - don’t mention it, it’s a touchy subject).
“yeah, seungcheol’s a weird guy,” vernon replies as he takes another one of your pancakes and folds it up like a taco. “at least you got free food though, that means he likes you.”
“doubtful,” you roll your eyes. “he seems like a dick.”
“oh then he’s just your type,” vernon teases, and you kick at his lap. he’s the definition of bachelor living at home, he has the whole basement of his parent’s house to himself and there’s really just a bed, a couch, and a full set of instruments set up in the corner for his band that practices here. you’re currently sat on the couch, a movie long forgotten on vernon’s projector. you couldn’t stop talking about cheol, or thinking about him, since you left the diner. he really irked you today. “whatever. pretend you don’t think he’s sexy, but i think someone’s got a little crush.”
“screw you,” you laugh as you snatch the take out container from his lap. “you don’t get to eat my food anymore.”
“seungcheol does deliveries, you know,” vernon says coyly. “i could call him and he’ll be here in minutes...”
“eat all you want, just save me a pancake.”
-
after your debrief with vernon, you finally headed back home. you needed the time with your best friend to catch up and get some much needed insight on your current situation. you were staying at home for a while, yes, but you couldn’t decide how long that would last. you had quit your job in the city because you were burned out, and you didn’t know what was coming next. but the little bit you’ve spent at home has reminded you of how easy life here can be. you can’t decide if you need to refresh your city life, or just stay at home and slow it down for a while. vernon wasn’t much help, he just reminded you of all the things you’d miss about both places, and then not so subtly mentioned that cheol only exists in your small town.
cheol. he’s a mystery to you, but thinking about him makes your blood boil. unfortunately, vernon told you, his diner is the only edible place in town right now. you don’t feel like cooking for yourself tonight, and your parents are currently out of town on vacation, so if you want a meal then you’ll have to face the bully in a baseball cap again.
once you’ve unpacked at home, you collapse onto the couch in your living room, ready to relax and maybe order a pizza to keep you from seeing cheol again so soon. you spend a few minutes channel surfing only to be interrupted by your stomach growling, and you realize your fate is set. you’ll have to go back to the diner.
when you walk through the door, you’re met with the ding of the bell and silence. there’s only one other person there, sitting at the far end of the counter with his food. at the sound of the bell cheol emerges from the back, wiping his hands and smiling.
“back so soon, city girl?” he asks. “sit anywhere, i’ll bring you a menu.” wordlessly you find the stool you sat at earlier today and sit, smiling awkwardly at the only other customer here. he nods back, a patch of ketchup on the side of his lips. when cheol comes back he passes you a menu and asks the man, “all good hoshi?”
“you got anymore ketchup?”
“check your face.”
“charming, isn’t he?” hoshi, apparently, asks you. you chuckle politely and look at the menu, but hoshi’s interest is piqued. “sorry, what’s your name?”
“city girl!” cheol shouts from the back, and you shoot him a glare he doesn’t see.
“i’m y/n,” you reply. “nice to meet you. aren’t you friends with seungkwan?”
“i am! how do you know him?”
“we went to school together,” you explain, and hoshi nods.
“you’re vernon’s big city friend,” hoshi connects the dots. “what brings you back home?”
“need to save money while i look for a new job,” you tell him, and cheol joins you at the counter just then.
“saving money and yet you’ve eaten here twice today?”
“well you gave me my food for free earlier, so i thought i could get another deal,” you joke.
“she got free food?!” hoshi shrieks. “i come here every day! i keep your lights on! i deserve a free meal every once in a while!”
“yeah, but you’re not a pretty girl, hosh,” cheol replies.
“oh, i see what’s going on here,” hoshi smiles knowingly. you sputter trying to defend yourself, but cheol won’t let you.
“do you know what you want?” he asks you, “or you want me to pick again?”
“how’s the fried chicken?” you ask hoshi instead.
“oh, to die for,” he tries to convince you. “but if cheol really likes you then you should ask for something off menu-”
“gross,” you interject.
“-like pasta, he makes a killer carbonara-”
“hoshi,” cheol warns, and you hide your smirk seeing the blush on cheol’s cheeks. when he turns back to you it deepens because he sees how you’re staring at him. he clears his throat and asks, “so? chicken or not?”
“i’ll do the chicken and potatoes please,” you say with a nod. “and another coffee too.”
“it’s almost 8pm,” cheol stops. “you’re gonna drink coffee at 8pm?”
“you’ve still got some in the pot,” you nod toward the machine. “just give me what’s left and you won’t have to throw it out. i’m the only crazy person who drinks coffee this late apparently.”
“you’re never gonna sleep,” cheol continues to scold you.
“i will, promise,” you insist. “now give me the coffee, please. i’m a little tired of you telling me what i can and can’t have here.”
“this is riveting,” hoshi says with his chin on his hand, leaning over the counter as he watches your interaction. with cheol safely in the back, he scoots a couple seats closer and asks, “so do you think he’s hot?”
“excuse me?”
“it’s alright, you can tell me,” he says. “your secret is safe with hoshi.”
“i’m sorry, i don’t-”
“stop bothering my customer, man,” cheol says as he returns with a clean coffee mug. he pours what’s left from the pot and passes it to you, your hands brushing as he passes it over. “you tired or something? why’re you drinking coffee so late?”
“it’s 8pm, this isn’t late,” you say before taking a sip. “and it’s good coffee. sorry i wanted to give you money.”
“can i get the check?” hoshi asks, interrupting the way seungcheol was trying to commit the shape of your lips to memory. “i’ll leave you two alone.”
“no, you’re fine,” you say quickly, but cheol is faster and has the check and change ready for hoshi. he politely waves goodbye to you both, and after the ding of the bell the diner falls silent. cheol leans back against the counter with the coffee, watching you. “shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?”
“nope, i was waiting to see if anything interesting was gonna happen out here,” he replies as he crosses his insanely buff arms over his chest.
“sorry buddy, but i’m all good,” you say as you take another sip of coffee. “just incredibly hungry.”
“then let me help you with that,” he says with a smirk before disappearing. you notice that your cheeks are hot, probably from how enraging seungcheol is. no other reason.
-
one thing you’re determined to do while you’re home is clean out your childhood room. your mom has been complaining about how much junk you and your siblings have left here over the years, and you’re tired of the passive aggressive comments whenever you come visit. consider it an early birthday present mom, the old toys and decaying art projects will be gone before you know it!
it takes a few days for you to sort through all the junk, throwing out what’s unusable and making countless trips around town to donate the rest. you’re finally left with the bones of your room: a few childhood mementos you can’t bear to part with, the twin bed you’ll be sleeping on for the next few weeks, and a broken desk you can’t seem to move on your own. you’ve been frustrated by the thing more times than you can count, so you cave and call vernon for help.
“come move my desk for me,” you say as soon as he picks up.
“hello?” he replies, confused.
“hey,” you continue. “you know the desk in my room that’s been broken since high school? help me move it, please.”
“why?”
“because it’s annoying.”
“just like you?”
“please vernon?” you whine. “it’s too heavy for me on my own and my car isn’t big enough to drive it somewhere.”
“fine. you owe me pizza though,” he says as you hear keys jingling in the background. “be there soon.”
eventually there’s a knock at your front door, and you slump up from the couch grumbling about how late vernon is. you open the door, ready to complain about his punctuality, only to be met with cheol’s smiling face.
“hey city girl, heard you need a truck?” he asks as he leans forward, peeking into your house. “where’s the desk?”
“um, my room?” you reply, and you watch in shock as cheol walks in and makes himself at home. “where are you going?”
“to your room?” he turns around, hands in his pockets but smirk still perpetually on his lips. “vernon said you’d have it ready to go but i guess he didn’t realize how spoiled you must be.”
“spoiled?” you scoff, pushing past him to your room. “because i can’t move a desk by myself?”
“it’s alright, everyone has flaws,” cheol nods as he follows you like an eager puppy. he stops at the doorway to your room, taking it in. he tries to hide a smile when he sees the baby blankets and dolls strewn across your bed. “you gonna introduce me to your friends?”
“shut up,” you snap. “come help me with this.”
“can’t even give me a please?” he sighs, coming into your room anyway. he joins you at the desk, facing you at the other end. he gets a good grip and then says, “lift on three. one, two, three,” he huffs. it’s astounding how easy it is to move with cheol’s help, and he backs out of your room carefully to make sure you don’t trip.
“so where’s vernon?” you ask, carefully walking the desk out of your house. you get to the front steps and cheol stops.
“you think you can get it down the stairs?” he asks. “don’t trip.”
“i’ll be fine,” you insist. “answer my question.”
“vernon doesn’t have a truck.”
“i didn’t say i needed a truck,” you grumble. “this could’ve fit in his van.”
“that broken down thing?” cheol chuckles. “i’m pretty sure the extra weight would make the car stop altogether. vernon felt the same, that’s why he asked me so nicely to come help a damsel in distress.”
“you’re obnoxious, did you know that?” you ask him as he guides you to lift the desk up into the back of his truck.
“and you’re stronger than you look,” he comments slyly, watching as you straighten your clothes. “so where’s this going?”
“the dump?” you reply. “thanks for hauling it, i guess.”
“hey, whoa,” he whistles as you start turning back to your house, “where are you going?”
“inside?”
“you’re not coming with me?” he asks with a pout.
“you’re a big boy, you can manage on your own,” you reply with a similar pout.
“no, seriously,” he says, “you gotta come with me to tell me where this goes.”
“i don’t care, just drop it off somewhere,” you reply.
“hm, and you said you weren’t spoiled,” cheol tsks as he climbs into his truck. “whatever. see you later city girl.”
“wait!” you shout over the sound of cheol’s truck starting. he rolls the window down to hear you better, an eyebrow quirked as he waits for you to go on. “um, let me grab my keys. i’ll be right back.”
“sure thing,” he smirks. “i’ll keep the seat warm for ya.”
-
“are you sure this is the right way?” cheol complains. you’ve circled this block three separate times, so sure that the donation center is somewhere on this street.
“if you would just slow down,” you whine. “i was here the other day, i know it’s close by.”
“oh, so you can do things on your own?” cheol teases, and you cross your arms. “sorry, that was rude.” silence. “are you giving me the silent treatment now?” nothing. “god. you’re irritating, you know that?”
“hm right back at ya,” you reply. “turn left up here.”
“why?”
“because i said so.”
“fine,” cheol grumbles. as soon as you’re around the corner you see the donation center and you point toward the drop off, already unbuckling your seatbelt so you can be out of the car ready to unload before cheol even puts it in park. “hey, be careful,” he scolds, following behind you and lowering the tailgate. “you’re annoying but i don’t want you to get hurt on my watch.”
“i’ll be fine,” you bark, and cheol holds his hands up in defense.
“did i say something?” he asks as you work together to bring the desk back down. “you’re touchy.”
“you’re getting on my nerves,” you explain, “so let’s move this desk and get this lovely afternoon over with, hm?”
“so nice to someone doing you a favor, sweet thing,” cheol replies, and your grip on the desk almost slips at the new nickname.
“what was wrong with city girl?”
“i like to spice things up,” cheol smirks, knowing he’s getting to you. once you drop the desk off he rushes back to the truck to open your door for you, offering his hand so you can easily climb back into the cab. you ignore him and pull yourself up, and cheol gives your ass an appreciative glance. you let him close the door for you, and you stew silently as he closes the tailgate and gets back into the driver’s side. “you all buckled?”
“yep.”
“you gonna be a brat the whole ride back?”
“depends, you gonna call me spoiled and irritating some more?”
“depends,” cheol smiles, and you let your head fall back onto the headrest with a groan. you drive on for a while in silence, and you try to sneak a glance at cheol without him noticing. he’s wearing a new flannel, the sleeves folded up to his elbows to show off his strong arms. his hair is still hidden by that cap, and you’re tempted to ask him to take it off so you can see the curls you know are hiding underneath. “whatcha lookin at?”
“you,” you don’t try to hide it. “just trying to figure out how someone the town seems to love so much can be such a jerk.”
“when you make the best food for miles people tend to overlook the attitude problems.”
“so you admit it?”
“admit what?”
“that you have an attitude?” you ask, leaning forward to look at him better.
“yes, i do,” he says with a sidelong glance at you. “and the sooner you admit to yours the sooner i think we’ll get along.”
“in your dreams.”
“so you want me to dream about you?”
“oh my god,” you groan, letting your head fall against the dashboard. “drop me off here, i’ll walk home.”
“no can do, city girl, there’s lots of scary things round these parts.”
“you’re one of them,” you say with an accusing finger pointed cheol’s way.
“but i’m a sweetheart,” he says innocently. “and we’re almost back at your house, take a chill pill.”
“alright dad,” you grumble. there’s another beat of silence before you quietly mumble, “thank you, by the way.”
“what?”
“i said thank you,” you repeat. “i don’t know how i would’ve moved that desk on my own. so thanks.”
“you’re welcome, sweet thing,” cheol says happily. “you know, if you got my number, you could ask me for help whenever you need it.”
“i think i can manage on my own,” you say with a nod as cheol pulls up to your house. he puts the truck in park and turns to face you, arms still draped over the steering wheel.
“well, you know where to find me,” he replies. you think he’s going to say something else, but he just stares at you instead, so you awkwardly clear your throat and say your goodbyes. cheol watches you walk up to your house, making sure you’re safe inside before pulling off. you see him waiting when you turn to close the door, and you shyly wave goodbye before closing it behind you.
-
the next day you find yourself outside the diner again. you had been running around town all morning finishing up errands, and you tried holding out on grabbing a cup of coffee for as long as possible. you don’t know what cheol does to make the coffee so good but you can’t stop thinking about it. the coffee and the man serving it are addictive, and you take a deep breath before opening the door to find an empty diner. no diners, no cheol.
“hello?” you call out to no reply. you slowly walk toward the counter and take your usual seat, looking around. you hear footsteps but you’re not sure from where, and cheol appears from a dark corner at the end of the counter. he looks surprised but pleased to see you, and he takes his time moseying down to stand in front of you.
“well hey there sweet thing,” he greets you. “coffee?”
“please,” you nod. “how did you know? and where did you come from?”
“you’re a creature of habit,” he replies. “and my apartment is upstairs, it was slow so i went up to take a break.”
“really mixing your work life balance living above your business,” you tell him. “that’s not good for you.”
“coffee’s not good for you either,” cheol scolds despite handing you a fresh cup.
“then why do you serve it?” you question, taking the warm mug from him regardless.
“brings in the money,” he answers. “you want anything else?”
“hm, i’m good for now, thanks,” you reply, trying to organize the bags at your feet. cheol stands on his toes, looking over the counter to stare at your stuff.
“shopping till you drop?” he teases, and you groan as you sit back up.
“i promised my mom i would restock the house before my parents came back from vacation, so i had to get some groceries,” you start to explain. “but i forget we live in the middle of nowhere so i had to go to a couple stores to get everything i need.”
“your parents are coming back?” cheol asks, and you hum in response. he leans on the counter, abnormally close to you, before he says, “when do you want me to stop by to meet them?”
“um, never?” you respond. “you’ve probably met them already, why do you have to be weird about this.”
“because i like seeing you squirm,” he smiles before pushing back from you. “if you don’t need anything else i’m gonna go check on something in the back.”
“take your time,” you mumble. you busy yourself with something on your phone and almost miss the plate that cheol slides in front of you. you look up to see him with hopeful eyes, and then you look down to find out he’s giving you a piece of pie. “what’s this?”
“cherry pie.”
“i didn’t ask for pie,” you say, and he rolls his eyes.
“but i’m giving it to you. you could say thanks.”
“what if i don’t like cherries?”
“tough!” he replies. “i’m not leaving you alone until you take a bite.”
“what if i’m allergic?” you try testing him further, squinting at him. he squints back before he replies, watching you take your first bite.
“then i’ll administer mouth to mouth,” he retorts, making you almost choke.
“that’s not how you stop an allergic reaction,” you cough out, and cheol watches on amused.
“you want some water?”
“no, i need you ten feet away from me,” you laugh nervously. “i’ll take the check, i should go anyway.”
“but you didn’t finish the pie,” he pouts, and you feel something in your chest tighten. you settle back on the stool and sigh, taking another bite. “so?”
“it’s really good,” you mumble, some crumbs falling to your lips. cheol motions for you to wipe your mouth and, embarrassed, you grab a napkin. “but seriously. you can give me the check, i’ll go ahead and pay and you can go back to doing whatever diner man things you do.”
“i don’t have any diner man things to do right now,” he shrugs. “the check can wait.”
“why do you like messing with me so much?”
“everybody needs a hobby,” cheol smiles. “what do you like to do? throw flaming darts at a picture of me?”
“fascinating that you think i put that much emotion into how i feel about you,” you reply, and cheol mimics getting stabbed in the chest.
“damn, city girl, that hurts,” he hisses.
“sorry, that was mean,” you backtrack. “i just. i don’t know how to handle you.”
“you can handle me however you want,” he nods. “i can take it.”
“good to know,” you mumble out, focusing on the pie. “thanks for this.”
“you’re welcome,” cheol smirks, watching you intently. “i’ve heard they pair well together. kinda like you and me. the coffee is bitter, like you,” cheol teases, “and the pie is sweet, like me.”
“i’m gonna vomit.”
“not on my counter,” cheol replies with a laugh, and you glare at him as you reach for your wallet. you hand your card over to him and he pretends to swipe it at the register. “should i make fake beeping noises to sell it or will you just let me give you this for free without a fight?”
“you can’t turn a profit if you keep giving people free food you know,” you scold. “not a good business plan.”
“i only do it for you,” he shrugs. “so i think i’m fine. come back whenever want, city girl. i’ll take care of you.”
-
one of the benefits of being home is seeing all of the friends you’ve missed while you were in the city. you’ve missed your movie nights with vernon and seungkwan specifically, so when vernon calls asking what your friday night plans are you’re thrilled to tell him you’re not busy. within minutes of showing up at his house you’re settled on the ginormous bean bag chair you claimed as yours several years ago. the boys are on the couch bickering over which movie to watch, but knowing vernon, he’ll probably have the final say regardless. you don’t care what you watch, you’re just happy to be here.
“y/n, help,” seungkwan whines. “tell vernon i don’t want to watch cars.”
“it’s his house kwan,” you reply. “if he wants to binge all the cars movies then i’m afraid that’s what we’re doing tonight.”
“and this is why y/n is my favorite friend,” vernon says with a finger pointed in seungkwan’s face. he rolls his eyes and moves vernon’s hand before fighting back.
“if we’re watching cars then i need a drink,” he grumbles, and vernon reminds him that he keeps the minifridge stocked with beer just for seungkwan. he asks if you want one but you decline, too comfortable curled up on the bean bag to sit up just so you can drink.
“you gonna make it through the movie or are you gonna fall asleep on us?” vernon asks you with a smile. you hum as you think about it.
“depends,” you say with a stretch. “are we eating? food would wake me up.”
“yeah, it’s on its way,” vernon replies and you nod, nuzzling back into the bean bag chair so you can see the screen better.
“ok,” seungkwan starts as he sits back down, “i will watch this movie, maybe the second one, but i am not watching the third. and vernon i swear to god if you make me listen to life is a highway in that disgusting car of yours-”
seungkwan is cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing, and you assume vernon, the one who lives here, will get up to check. you peek over at him and instead see both of the boys staring at you expectantly.
“what?”
“go get the door,” vernon says. “that’s our food.”
“you get it! this is your house!”
“you’re closer to the stairs,” vernon replies. “you know the rules.”
you groan loudly as you get up, and continue groaning as you stomp up the stairs, and you make sure your footsteps are loud and obnoxious as you walk to the front door to make the boys very aware of how annoyed you are. you pull the front door open just as the bell rings again, and you almost shriek when you see who’s on the other side.
“y/n,” seungcheol smiles. “fancy seeing you here.”
“what the hell?” you ask in disbelief.
“you’re not happy to see me?” he pouts, readjusting the bags of food in his arms. “bummer.”
“i-what?”
“vernon ordered food, didn’t he?” cheol asks, and you nod. “i’m delivering the food. what about this is hard for you to understand?”
“none of it i guess,” you mumble, stepping aside to let him in. “do you need help carrying it?”
“nope, just show me where to go,” cheol says as he waits for you to close the door. you start walking him toward the basement and then stop, making cheol almost run into you. “whoa city girl, warn me next time.”
“s-sorry,” you stutter, “um, i was just gonna say the stairs are kinda narrow, so seriously, give me something to carry. it’ll be easier.”
“if you insist,” cheol sighs, nodding to the bags on top. “take those. if we’re going down stairs they might fall.” you take the bags, but don’t move further. cheol gives you a look and asks, “you forget where you’re going?”
“why are you here?”
“told you,” he smiles. “i’m making a delivery.”
“but the diner, who’s watching it?”
“it’s late, diner’s closed,” he explains. “i’m doing this and then going home.”
“and you always do the deliveries yourself?” you question, finally walking back toward the basement.
“if they tip well,” he jokes. “and i’d heard you would be here, so that’s an added bonus.”
“you invited him?” you ask vernon as soon as you’re back downstairs. he turns to look at you and smiles when he sees cheol trailing behind you.
“i ordered food from him, yeah,” vernon says. “it’s good to support small businesses, y/n.”
“yeah, y/n,” cheol mimics. you try to help him place the food on vernon’s shoddy table so you and the boys can eat, but he insists, “i got it, sweet thing, you can sit down-”
“no, i’m trying to help so you can leave-”
“seriously, i’m good-”
amidst your bickering you accidentally knock into cheol, making the last part of the order topple over onto the floor. you gasp as you watch the drinks spill all over vernon’s rug, and you reach for the paper towels before kneeling down to clean the mess.
“vernon, i’m so sorry,” you say quickly, trying to dab everything up. you see him and seungkwan spring into action out of the corner of your eye, kwan looking for a real towel and vernon in search of something to handle the stickiness. that leaves you and cheol, who kneels in front of you to help in the meantime.
“you don’t know when to stop,” he mumbles as he frustratedly tears off some paper towels. you stop moving and glare at him as you ask, “what?”
“i said you don’t know when to stop,” cheol repeats, taking the dirty towels to the trash. “you don’t like people helping you. you’re too stubborn.”
“first i’m spoiled, now i’m stubborn?” you ask, still kneeling on the ground. cheol’s standing over you, returning your harsh stare, and for a moment your mind flashes to a very different situation with cheol looking down at you on your knees. “i hate you.”
“you keep telling yourself that,” cheol scoffs, walking away. “does vernon keep soap down here?”
“i mean it,” you say as you stand and follow him wandering around.
“if you hate me then why do you find a reason to see me every day?” cheol asks, spinning around to face you. “you’re either in my diner or in some kind of situation where you need my help-”
“your help?” you spit back. “i’ve never asked for your help.”
“moving your desk? feeding you? cleaning up a mess you made?” he lists off.
“oh you’re so full of yourself,” you mock.
“is that why i feel like i catch you staring at me whenever you think i’m not lookin?” he asks, and you back down. “no, tell me. am i imagining that? or am i right, are you as obsessed with me as i am with you?”
“you, what?” you whisper, watching cheol intently as he calms himself down.
“nothing. forget it,” he mumbles as he turns to leave. “enjoy the food.”
-
with your parents coming home, there was less time for you to hang around town and risk running into cheol. that’s a good thing, because you don’t think you could face him again after what happened in vernon’s basement. it was hard enough explaining to him and seungkwan what went down without them exchanging knowing glances, so you’re sure whatever feelings you have and don’t understand are just as obvious to cheol.
cheol is glad for the break too, but he finds himself hopeful at the sound of each bell, looking up to see if it’s you coming through the door or not. yes, you’re annoying. yes, you made him mad the other day. but he still wants to explore whatever’s happening between you. he knows he can be hard to read sometimes, and you’re the first person in maybe years that he’s felt this way towards. so, in the hopes of bettering himself, cheol buys a self help book. he usually turns to books when he needs a break from reality, either escaping to a fantasy world to neglect the problems in his own or buying a book that will help him with his business. it’s not out of the ordinary to find him reading behind the counter when it’s slow, but he forgets that the eyes everywhere in town make it hard to keep anything a secret.
people have noticed you suddenly stopped going to the diner, and they’ve seen cheol’s face fall every time someone other than you walks in. hoshi especially is keen to what’s going on, so during his next visit he comes in with a purpose.
“hey hosh,” cheol greets without looking up from his book. “sit anywhere, be with you in a minute.”
“sure,” hoshi nods, taking his usual spot at the counter. he lets cheol read a second longer before asking, “whatcha got there?”
“a book, you seen one before?” cheol asks as he joins hoshi further down the bar. “what can i get you?”
“i’ve seen a book before,” hoshi replies seriously. “read one? no. and i would like your finest hamburger, please. extra ketchup.”
“not sure why i even ask anymore,” cheol chuckles, writing the ticket anyway. “you always order the same thing.”
“i like what i like,” hoshi shrugs.
“yes you do,” cheol nods. “it’ll be out soon.”
“gives you more time to read, hm?”
“what? sure,” cheol agrees, scooting the book farther from hoshi so he can’t see what it is.
“whatcha reading?” he asks anyway, and cheol clears his throat, ready to lie. “something about love?”
“what?” cheol whips his head up, embarrassment in his eyes.
“there’s a big ole heart at the start of that chapter, are you reading a romance? tell me about it,” hoshi says as he rests his hands on his fists, watching cheol expectantly.
“it’s um, it’s not about love.”
“no?”
“well, not like that,” he explains. “it’s, um...you have to swear not to repeat this.”
“what’s in it for me?”
“i’ll stop serving you,” cheol warns.
“noted, your secret is safe,” hoshi agrees. “so what is it?”
“it’s a book about relationships, mostly. teaches you how to be in love better,” cheol replies, making hoshi smile.
“and who’s the lucky lady?” he asks, causing cheol to blush.
“let me go check on your food, man.”
“whoever it is i wish you a very happy life together!”
-
you’re able to last well over a week without visiting the diner. it’s been nice not running into cheol, because you haven’t experienced that weird feeling that comes with being in his presence. what’s even weirder though is the new thing you might be feeling. you think you miss him, and you really want to apologize for being such a problem before.
one saturday you’re up early, and you find yourself pacing back and forth outside the diner. it’s so early the diner isn’t even open yet, but you still trudge to the door and knock quietly, knowing if you don’t address it now you never will.
you knocked softly enough you hoped cheol wouldn’t be able to hear, but before you can run away you see his broad chest through the blinds. you hear the door unlock, followed by the bell tingling as cheol opens the door. he looks you up and down then grunts, “we’re closed.”
“but i want to come in.”
“you think you’re special, city girl?” he asks with the hint of a smile.
“i’m a paying customer, you really gonna turn me away?” you reply, and for a moment you’re afraid he’ll actually tell you to leave.
“i’d never turn you away,” he says at last, stepping to the side so you can come in. “take a seat, i just made a pot of coffee.”
“it’s like you knew i was coming,” you smile before melting into a yawn. cheol watches you fondly, placing a menu at your usual seat. “i don’t need a menu.”
“what do you want?” he asks while he makes your coffee.
“um, i uh, i wanted to say i’m sorry?” you answer, awkwardly standing next to the stool.
“you sure about that?” cheol asks as he hands you the mug. your fingers brush, and you find the confidence to look him in the eyes as you try again.
“i’m aware i can be a little hard to get along with,” you try again. “you’re really nice. and i wasn’t always appreciative of that. so i’m sorry.”
“that’s all?”
“huh?” you ask, cheeks warming in embarrassment. “i said i’m sorry-”
“i mean, are you done with your apology?” cheol corrects himself, and you nod. “good. because it wasn’t necessary.”
“it wasn’t?”
“no,” he shakes his head. “i like that you’re a little bratty.”
“oh my god,” you roll your eyes, taking a sip of the coffee to avoid saying something ‘bratty’ in response.
“sorry,” he smiles. “i should’ve said i like you just the way you are, city girl. but thanks for smoothing things over.”
“good,” you nod. “now let me pay for the coffee.”
“nope,” cheol shakes his head. “first cup of the day is always free.”
“you’re a liar,” you accuse him.
“and you’re pretty,” he counters, and you choke on your next sip slightly. “what? you disagree?”
“just wasn’t expecting that,” you say as you wipe your face. “can i get a napkin please?”
“you wanna order too?” he asks as he grabs a napkin for you. “want me to tuck this in your collar?”
“see, i thought we had reconciled and now here you are saying something insufferable again.”
“i’m good at that, aren’t i?” he smiles, passing you the napkin. “so are you staying for a while? you want banana pancakes?”
“please.”
you watch on as cheol finishes opening the diner, getting comfortable enough at your seat that you pull out a book and start reading while you wait for your food. you’re there long enough for other customers to start trickling in, and you’re too immersed in your book to hear the murmurs about you being there so early. what everyone assumes is that you just spent the night there, so the rumors that the diner owner finally found a special someone are traveling through town at the speed of light. you and cheol are both oblivious, so when he brings you your food before serving anyone else there’s several sets of eyes watching the exchange.
“what are you reading?” he asks, wiping off a set of utensils for you as he waits for your response.
“ah, it’s this book my coworker recommended,” you explain, then correct yourself. “ex-coworker, i guess. keep forgetting i don’t work there anymore.”
“you wanna talk about it?” cheol asks, helping someone else at the counter without pulling his attention from you. you shake your head, and he asks a different question, “tell me about the book then.”
he listens intently as you describe the plot, mentioning that it’s supposed to be a love story and you don’t usually like those. cheol realizes this is the most he’s ever heard you talk, and he briefly thinks about how easy it would be to sit and listen to you all day. he lets you finish before he excuses himself to make rounds through the diner, and you catch your gaze following him wherever he goes. he smirks to himself when he sees you staring, and he may or may not puff out his chest a little just to give you something to look at.
it doesn’t take you long to finish your food, and cheol keeps the coffee coming. it’s easy for you to lose track of time, and before you know it cheol is stopping in front of you with a deep sigh. you look around and notice the diner is exceptionally empty, and cheol looks exhausted.
“you ok?”
“fine,” he nods, “just a long morning.”
“what time is it?” you ask, searching for your phone.
“almost noon,” he replies, and you can feel your stomach growl. you hope cheol didn’t hear, but of course he did. “you hungry, sweet thing?”
“no, i should really go-”
“stay right there,” he says without giving you a chance to leave. he comes back with a sandwich and fries, and you start to protest when he says, “chill out, this was a pickup order no one ever came for.”
“but i don’t wanna be a bother-”
“y/n,” he says sternly, silencing you quickly. he never calls you by your name. “you’re fine. i like the company.”
“well i’ll only keep you company if you take a break and eat with me,” you conclude, and cheol has to hide his smile as he wipes his hands off.
“let me go grab a plate, we can share.”
when he comes back, you take the empty plate and slide more than half of the fries onto it followed by the bigger slice of the sandwich. cheol tries to complain, reaching for your plate so you’ll end up with the fuller meal, but you push your body weight into him to keep him away.
“cute,” he hums, letting you win. “i am stronger than you, you know.”
“more reason for you to get the bigger plate,” you say as you pop a fry into your mouth. “now eat.”
“so bossy,” he shakes his head as he obeys regardless. then, with a mouthful of sandwich, he asks, “how do you like being home?”
“eh,” you shrug. “it was nice at first because it had been so long, but now i’m kind of antsy.”
“why? missing the city too much?” cheol asks, sliding a napkin to you and motioning to the edge of your mouth. he wants to wipe the mustard off for you, but he doesn’t think that would be a good idea.
“a little,” you admit. “i miss my friends-”
“you have friends here,” cheol points out.
“i miss having things to do,” you add on. “i still don’t have a job.”
“hey, i could always use a dishwasher,” cheol teases, and you push his arm that keeps brushing against yours. “i get it though. this town’s just too small for you city girl.”
“what’s your story?” you say next, catching him off guard. to clarify, you add, “i mean, growing up you weren’t here. visiting during college i never saw you. then all of a sudden your diner is the hottest spot in town. how’d that happen?”
“you sure you never saw me before you came into the diner?” cheol asks, and you do have to think about it for a second.
“no,” you conclude, shaking your head. “i would’ve remembered your face.”
“i’ll take that as a compliment.”
“you should,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow at cheol when he looks at you surprised. “so when did you move here? how’d you start the diner?”
“my dad grew up here,” he begins. “actually, i think we went to the same university. i was talking to vernon about it and i was a couple years ahead of you, but i was there. i always dreamt of having my own business, i just didn’t know what it would look like. at first i tried setting up a cafe downtown-”
“who’s the city girl now?” you joke, and cheol pinches your arm before continuing.
“but i failed before i even started. i lost so much money i had to move back in with my dad, and he was thinking about moving back here. so i started looking at places, and planned out the diner,” cheol says with a sweep of his hand. “honestly, i’ve always been afraid of the city. so i think it’s great that you seem to thrive so much there. takes a very special kind of person.”
“i’ll take that as a compliment,” you mimic, and cheol smiles.
“you should.”
“i can’t believe this is so new though,” you say as you look around. “it feels like it’s been here forever. you’ve done a good job making this feel like home, even if it wasn’t part of me growing up here. i come in and i just feel..”
“feel what?” cheol asks, watching you intently, slowly inching closer.
“i feel safe,” you say quietly. “being here, in this town, usually gives me so much anxiety. but i come in here and...all of that goes away.”
“that’s good to hear,” cheol smiles, tentatively reaching for your hand on the counter. he places his larger, callused hand on yours and squeezes, holding your gaze as he says, “you look comfortable here.”
“it’s because of you,” you admit, and if cheol weren’t so close he would’ve missed it. you don’t elaborate, and cheol thinks things may go further, but it’s like he watches you realize what’s going on in real time. “um, i mean, you’ve worked so hard. to make this place nice, to fit in with everything else in the town. it’s um, because of you that everyone likes this place so much.”
“uh huh,” he nods, tongue in his cheek as he watches you pull away. he would try to stop you, but a quick glance at the clock on the wall tells him it’s about to be lunch rush. he won’t be able to talk to you again for another couple hours anyway, so he lets you go, even though he desperately wants to know what would’ve happened if you’d sat there a little longer.
“um, ok, so, thanks for the food,” you stammer out, making sure you have all of your things. “i really need to go now. you’ll need this stool soon.”
“sure,” cheol agrees, watching you rush toward the door. “hey!” he calls, and you turn with a frazzled look in your eyes. “what are you doin tomorrow?”
“um, nothing, probably,” you reply. “i’ll be here at some point for coffee.”
“ok,” cheol hums. “see you later then.”
-
the next day, a saturday, cheol’s busiest day, there’s a knock at your door around dinner time. you ended up grabbing coffee with vernon at the bakery this morning, so there was no need for a diner visit today. that’s why you’re shocked when you open the door to see a well dressed cheol with a nervous glint in his eyes.
“hey, city girl,” he smirks. “you free for dinner?”
“am i..what?”
“you never came by the diner today,” he pouts. “so i had to make a home visit. now come on, let’s go eat.”
“um, ok, i just, let me change first?” you ask, and cheol nods.
“i’ll be here,” he says, content to wait on your porch as you rush back inside to make yourself presentable. you go for something casual, because even though he had on a white dress shirt he was still wearing his signature baseball cap and walmart jeans. he looked incredible, but that was not what you needed to focus on right now. once you’re satisfied with your look, you sneak out the back door near your room and walk up on an unsuspecting cheol kicking rocks in your front yard. his head lifts at the sound of footsteps, and a proud smile graces his features as he says breathlessly, “you look beautiful.”
“i didn’t do anything special,” you try to downplay, but he shakes his head.
“nope, don’t do that,” he scolds. “you look beautiful. end of discussion.”
“well thank you,” you mumble, and cheol extends his hand for you to take. you shyly lace your fingers in his, and he pulls you forward so he can wrap a hand around your waist. you let out a quiet ‘oh’ as you place your hands on his chest to steady yourself, and when you look up to find cheol staring at your lips you don’t know what else to do other than lean forward and leave a delicate kiss on his. you pull back more nervous than you were before, but cheol looks pleased.
“i was just gonna say your lip gloss was smudged,” cheol says cockily. “but that was nice too.”
“oh then let me take it back,” you joke, and cheol nods, diving back in to kiss you again. “that’s not what i meant-”
“what, you want that one back too?” he asks with a playful look in his eyes.
“no, we’re good,” you laugh nervously as he starts leading you down the path from your house. “what are you up to?”
“i like you,” he says like it’s obvious. “so we’re on a date. we just kissed, remember? you were there.”
“i was, but, i mean, why?”
“why do i like you?” he asks, “or why did we kiss? because you started that.”
“ok, i’ll try again,” you groan. “why now? why not ask sooner?”
“i didn’t think you liked me back,” cheol replies with a shrug. “but after you spent the day mooning at me in the diner i was sure.”
“to be fair i wasn’t sure i liked you until i started mooning at you yesterday either,” you admit.
“i’m glad we’re here now,” cheol smiles, squeezing your hand as you see the diner in the distance. “hope it’s okay for us to eat here?”
“sure,” you shrug. “i hear it’s the best food in town.”
“wait until you’ve tried the place upstairs,” cheol says mysteriously, and you watch as he unlocks the diner and tells you to go toward the hallway that leads to his apartment.
“you closed the diner for this?” you ask, and he blushes.
“i didn’t want anyone to bother us,” he replies shyly. “plus i didn’t want my place to smell like fries when i invite you over for the first time.”
“you know you could invest in an air freshener,” you tease, letting cheol open his apartment and lead you inside. the sight in front of you takes your breath away and quells whatever smart remark you were about to make. “cheol, oh my god.”
“is it too much?” he questions, tsking as he guides you with his hand at the small of your back. you’re silent, taking it all in, noticing the fresh flowers on the table amongst the plates of food. cheol has made what looks like homemade pasta, and you think you could cry. no one has ever done something so nice for you before, and you turn to cheol to tell him exactly that, but he looks worried. “it’s too much.”
“no, cheol, i can’t believe you did this for me,” you say in disbelief. “i love it.”
“you do?” he perks up, and you assure him everything is great. “here, take a seat,” he pulls a chair out for you and hands you your napkin before grabbing a bottle of wine. “do you like red wine?”
“no,” you shake your head, and cheol laughs. “but i’ll have some tonight.”
“tried to make everything perfect,” he sighs, pouring you a small glass that you take gratefully. “guess i’ll try harder next time.”
“next time?” you question, and cheol hums. you take a sip of the wine before adding, “next time i’ll have to cook for you.”
“i’ll hold you to that,” cheol says as he finally sits down across from you. you both laugh as you notice the flowers obstruct your view, and cheol quickly moves the vase, telling you that the flowers are yours to take home later.
“thank you,” you say for the first time tonight. “thank you for all of this.”
“anything to make you feel more at home, city girl,” he says. “now try the pasta.”
you tentatively try a piece, noting that the freshness makes it easier to fork it. you watch cheol as you take the bite, and it’s embarrassing how quickly you melt at the taste. you let out a content sigh, verging on the kind of moan that only comes out when you eat the most delicious piece of food you’ve ever had. cheol couldn’t be happier, and you blush when you notice how closely he’s been watching you.
“how did you learn to cook so well?” you ask with a whine. “it’s not fair.”
“not fair?” cheol laughs, and you nod as you try to get as much pasta in your mouth as possible. “don’t hurt yourself.”
“could you leave us alone please?” you ask, a spot of pasta sauce on your chin. unlike yesterday at the diner, cheol doesn’t back down from reaching across the table to swipe the spot away with his thumb. before he can stop himself he licks it off, meeting your eyes shyly.
“sorry,” he clears his throat, finally picking up his own fork.
“you never answered my question,” you try and change the subject. “you study in italy or something?”
“yeah, actually,” cheol replies. when he sees how confused you look he smiles before explaining, “i had a study abroad in italy. it was before i knew i wanted my own cafe or diner or anything, but one of the excursions for the trip was a pasta making class. guess it stuck.”
“okay now i’m jealous,” you tell him. “of you, for going to italy. but then of anybody else who’s ever had your pasta. this is incredible.”
“you’re the only one,” cheol says nonchalantly.
“why are you so nice to me?” you ask softly, and cheol reaches for your hand across the table. he absentmindedly rubs his thumb over your knuckles as he explains.
“because i like you?” he chuckles. “i already told you that.”
“yeah, but why?” you ask, leaning closer. “why me?”
“i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, but the way you’re staring at him pushes him to answer. “you remember when you came into the diner a couple weeks ago?” you nod, and he continues. “you remember how you were a little rude?”
“if i was rude it was only because you started it,” you grumble, and cheol laughs.
“that’s why i like you,” he says, “you were the first person to take my attitude and give it right back to me.”
“well i’m glad you finally met your match,” you tease. “now can i have my hand back? i want some of that garlic bread.”
“yes ma’am,” he lets go with a final squeeze. he hands you the basket before reaching for the wine, asking, “do you want some more?”
“honestly? no,” you shake your head. “i’m fine with water.”
“i’d offer you something else, but all i have is wine, beer, and a ginger ale that’s been open for two weeks,” cheol tells you.
“actually i’ll take a beer,” you say, and cheol stares at you with a new look in his eyes. “what, weirdo?”
“careful, you might make me say the l word.”
“lasagna?” you joke, and he rolls his eyes as he gets you a beer. he gets one for himself, and you cheers once he’s sitting back down. he watches you take a sip, admiring the way your lips wrap around the bottle, and then you both go back to eating. talking to cheol is easy, you notice. this is a first date but it doesn’t feel like it, and as the night goes on you get this feeling of dread in your gut that you’ll have to leave at some point.
“why do you keep looking at the clock?” cheol asks nervously, a smile on his lips to hide the fact that he’s worried you’re bored or ready to go. “you need to leave?”
“no, no, the opposite,” you assure him. “you fed me the best meal of my life, i’ve now had a glass of wine and two beers, so i’m getting tired..but i don’t think i could leave even if i wanted to.”
“you full?” he asks, standing to clear the table. “because i made dessert too.”
“are you gonna force me to eat cherry pie again?” you ask as you try to help him clean. everything you pick up he just takes from your hands, so instead you grab the empty beer bottles and search for his recycling.
“no, but i made a tiramisu-”
“you made tiramisu?!” you ask, whirling around to see a confused cheol. he nods like it’s nothing, and you groan as you say, “i didn’t think the man of my dreams existed, and yet here you are.”
“i’m the man of your dreams?” he asks, the confusion gone as he sidles up to you to wrap his hands around your waist. “this is great news.”
“hm, suddenly i need to go,” you say as you try to step back, but cheol’s grip tightens and you think you hear the slightest growl come from deep within his chest.
“no.”
“no?”
“no,” cheol confirms, thumbs slipping under your shirt to rub circles onto your skin. “you have to at least try the tiramisu before you go.”
“what if it makes me want to stay even longer?” you ask, and cheol leans in to give you a delicate kiss. without pulling far from your lips, he whispers, “then you stay longer.”
you let your eyes linger on his for a moment before you connect your lips again, your hands moving from their awkward spot on his chest to wrap tightly around his neck. one hand steadies you, and the other tangles into the hair at the nape of his neck that just peeks out from beneath the cap on his head. you groan into his mouth and he can tell it’s a sound of frustration, so cheol pulls back to ask what’s wrong.
“do you ever take your hat off?” you ask him.
“what?”
“take it off,” you command, and you wait for cheol to loosen his grip on you to reach up and remove his hat. you keep watching as he ruffles his hair, letting down the curls you knew were hiding beneath. “do you keep those hidden from the world because you know it makes you hotter?”
“no, i work in food service, keeps my hair out of people’s lunch,” he says, pulling a shy smile from you.
“forget i called you hot then.”
“never,” he replies, leaning back down to kiss you. he pulls one of your hands from his neck and places it on his full head of curls, which you take as a sign to play with and tug at his hair as much as you please. cheol deepens the kiss, his tongue darting out to meet yours, and you unintentionally pull his hair harder. he moans into your mouth and you feel yourself shiver, but you pull back for some reason. cheol really growls this time, asking in a low voice, “where ya goin, sweet thing?”
“mind your business,” you scoff as you kneel in front of him, your hands finding the waistband of his jeans. you look up at him and ask, “is this okay?”
“more than okay,” he groans, hands lacing through your hair now. he watches on with hooded eyes as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down just below his ass, slowly tracing over the bulge in his boxers next. you’re mesmerized by the size of it and you’re still not face to face with his cock, and cheol calling your name pulls your attention back in. “having fun?”
“sh,” you hush him, tracing his outline one more time before pulling at his waistband to let it snap against his skin. he hisses and the grip on your hair tightens, his breath quickening above you.
“baby, you’re killing me,” he whispers, so you glare at him as you pull his boxers down, almost getting hit by his boner when it’s finally set free. you’re quick to grab his shaft, spitting on the tip as you hold eye contact with cheol. he lets out a shaky breath, and he tries to burn this moment into the back of his eyelids so he never forgets the way you look on your knees ready to swallow his cock. you pump him a few times, licking at his tip while you hype yourself up to take him into your mouth.
“you know, i think i’m getting tired,” you tease, trying to push cheol’s buttons. “think i might just head out.”
“you talk a lot,” cheol mumbles. “i’ve got something that could shut you up.”
“oh, you mean this?” you ask, picking up the pace of your hand stroking him until you think he can’t take it anymore. “what if i don’t want to?”
“then i won’t return the favor,” cheol challenges you. he watches, pleased, as you roll your eyes but still lean forward to wrap your lips around his tip anyway. he keeps watching as you inch further down his cock, taking him like it’s nothing. he doesn’t have to worry that he won’t fit, because you keep going until your nose is pressed against his skin. you surprise him by swallowing around him once, then twice, and he uses the grip on your hair to pull you off completely. “shit, baby, you really are trying to kill me.”
“excuse me, i’m doing some of my best work down here,” you say as you wipe the saliva off your chin. “now shut up and let me suck your cock.”
cheol lets you get back to work, but he doesn’t stay quiet. he lets himself moan freely, groaning as he tries to get you closer to him than you already are. every time you swallow around him he cries out, and you can feel yourself getting wetter. you can tell he’s trying to let you lead, his hold on the back of your head strong but reserved. he bucks his hips slightly each time you pull back and suck on his tip, but you want more. you hollow your cheeks and pick up your pace, tears stinging at your eyes as you gag around his cock. cheol has been talking you through it too, telling you how good you’re doing, how sexy you look, how good you’re making him feel. you would be embarrassed at how cock drunk you are right now, tears in your eyes and spit dribbling past your lips, but you’re addicted to the weight of cheol on your tongue and the way his strong hands tug on your hair. you have to pull back to catch your breath, a string of spit connecting your lips to his tip. as you sit back on your calves, cheol takes his cock in his hand, swiping at the spit before smearing it over his tip. he strokes himself lazily as he lets you catch your breath, and when you try to knock his hand out of the way he doesn’t let you get back to work.
“move,” you say sternly. “i’m almost done.”
“yeah, so am i,” cheol laughs. “you’re gonna make me come, city girl.”
“good,” you say proudly, “let me taste it.”
“you’re evil,” he groans, guiding his tip back to you awaiting mouth. he sighs happily when you swallow around him again, and he tentatively thrusts forward to test the waters. when you catch his eye and nod, he knows it’s okay to try again, picking up the pace so he can fuck your mouth. he’s close, and if you wanted a taste that’s what he’ll give you. “i’m about to come baby, you ready?” you moan around him and the vibration sends him over the edge, his release shooting down your throat. it’s sinful the way your eyes roll back as you swallow around him, and cheol thinks in that moment you are the most perfect woman to ever exist. he helps you carefully pull yourself off his cock, and he shudders when the cold air hits him. “you okay, beautiful?”
“all good,” you nod, voice a little hoarse. “i’m tired though.”
“too tired for me to eat you out?”
“in the morning maybe?” you ask, yawning.
“yeah?” cheol asks as he helps you up, and you nod. “you wanna stay the night?”
“can i?” you ask, realizing you didn’t know if he wanted you there or not. “i mean, is that alright?”
“yeah, of course,” cheol says quickly. “i’ll get you some clothes. and water. and a toothbrush.”
“you’re too sweet,” you say shyly, taking the flannel and boxers that he offers you. he leads you to the bathroom where he finds a clean toothbrush, and he disappears while you change so he can get you a glass of water. when he returns he finds you snooping in his medicine cabinet, his lotion on your hands and his fancy floss wrapped around your fingers. “oops?”
“no, make yourself at home,” cheol laughs, handing you the cool glass. “what’s mine is yours.”
“i’m sorry, i got too comfortable,” you say. “sorry. thanks for the water.”
“thanks for the head,” cheol smirks, and you push him slightly as you easily finish the glass. “you want more?”
“no, i’d have to get up in the middle of the night to pee,” you complain. “can i, um, do you mind? if i go to bed?”
“please, baby, you don’t have to ask,” he says, carefully leading you to his room. “i’m gonna wash up, be back in a minute.”
you carefully pull down the blankets on his bed, simultaneously feeling at home yet nervous. you feel comfortable around cheol, sure, but this still feels like a lot all at once. cheol walks in on you contemplating this dilemma that’s only in your head, and he asks with a smirk, “you gonna stare at the bed all night or you gonna get in?”
“sorry,” you mumble, scampering to get under the covers.
“stop apologizing,” he says as he walks to the other side of the bed. “you look cute in my clothes by the way.”
“you look cute without your hat on,” you counter, and you’re proud to see a slight blush on his cheeks as he lays down next to you, mimicking your posture. he lays facing you with an arm under the pillow, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed. “cheol?”
“yeah?”
“is this too much?”
“what?” he asks, the happy look in his eyes faltering slightly.
“me spending the night. it’s our first date,” you whisper, suddenly afraid that speaking too loud will make your worries bigger.
“i don’t mind,” cheol says, pulling for your free hand beneath the covers. “i am very happy to have you here.”
“i’m happy to be here,” you say quietly, and cheol looks at you with an appraising look.
“you sure about that?”
“i am,” you assure him. “i had an amazing night. i’m glad i could do something nice for you after all that you’ve done for me. but...i’m scared.”
“scared? why?”
“i like you,” you whisper. “i like you a lot. but i’m afraid of what the town will say. i’m afraid i like you too much, and i’m afraid of leaving.”
“then don’t leave,” he says simply. “and who cares what the town thinks?”
“no, like what if i get another job? what if i have to leave?” you ask, and cheol thinks for a moment before he pulls you closer, burying your head in his chest. he kisses the top of your head and whispers against your forehead, “then we’ll talk about it. for now just go to sleep.”
-
you wake up early the next morning, light trickling in through the curtains of cheol’s room. you feel more rested than you’ve been in months, maybe years. cheol is still wrapped around you from the night before, and you chuckle when you see how his lips stay pouted as he snores slightly. you watch him a little longer, pushing a stray curl out of his face, and he softly wakes up. he sees you staring down at him and he smiles, taking your hand and kissing your palm before laying it back on his cheek.
“morning, sweet thing.”
“morning, handsome.”
“how long have you been up?” he yawns.
“not long.”
“you been staring at me the whole time?”
“mind your business.”
“you hungry?”
“starved,” you reply, sitting up to stretch. “and i need coffee. bad.”
“good stuff’s downstairs,” cheol mumbles, nuzzling back into his pillow. you’re about to ask where when you look down and see he’s back asleep, so you lean down to kiss his cheek before getting up. you slide on some slippers, shuffling downstairs to the diner to make coffee. you forget to check the time though, because the quiet doesn’t necessarily mean that the diner is closed. when you appear in the doorway, obviously clad in cheol’s clothes, and the ten or so customers in the diner turn to stare at you, your heart drops as you scurry back up to cheol’s apartment. you find him in the kitchen scratching his ass, and he turns to say, “where the hell did you go?”
“you said the coffee was downstairs!” you half scream, and realization dawns on him. he’s shocked for a moment, then tries not to laugh.
“how many people saw your walk of shame?” he asks, failing to hide his smirk.
“enough,” you groan as you fling yourself into his arms. “so i’m sure everyone will know by the end of the day, and it won’t just be our business, and if i ever do leave then everyone will blame me for us breaking up, and-”
“whoa, whoa, slow down,” cheol backtracks, holding you at arms length. “you’re freaking out over nothing.”
“but-”
“no! enjoy this!” cheol says, kissing you on both cheeks. “enjoy this for as long as you can, even if you have to leave. but like i said last night, we’ll talk about that if we get there. i just want to date you and see how much fun that can be. it’s nobody’s business but our own.”
“but everyone downstairs saw me in your clothes,” you whine.
“then they’ll know how nice your legs are.”
“i’m being serious,” you push him. “it was embarrassing.”
“would coffee and tiramisu make it better?”
“throw in some banana pancakes and i might just forget it ever happened.”
“deal.”
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