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thegoldenavenger · 5 years

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Hmm, i was thinking about that fusion au post (that "full on steven universe fusion soulmate" post) and,, well. Fuck the word block limit. anyways i wrote this in three hours from like 1 am to 4am so it’s not beta’d and possibly fever-dream ish. this is around 4k. and has a readmore.

Tony gets a bit of a reputation. He's maybe a little too young when he goes to MIT, and too eager to learn and grow. Up to this point he'd been pretty isolated from those he could call peers and fusing with parents just never happened.

But at MIT, well.

He had maybe fused a lot.

Once or twice, unintentionally at parties where everyone was plastered and fusion was as natural as stepping in time with the next beat. He'd always been an adaptable kind of person, it was easy to fall in sync. He'd wanted to, badly. He'd wanted to be a part of something more than himself.

These times often ended with bewildered laughter and too many limbs overbalancing their awkward new body, and falling away from each other, no harm no foul. Snatched moments where Tony didn't have to be stuck, alone, in his own head.

There were times he fused deliberately. Clasping hands with Rhodey in his apartment, grinning to the low bass of his sound system as they embraced each other and became each other. Luxuriating in late night drives in Rhodey's car, deciding what gas station snacks he wanted--or no, a 24 hour diner! He loves those homefries.

Or when Tony met Ru and his hands shook so, so much when she grinned at him underneath a maple tree but he took the step forward anyways and they walked along the river side, peering into the water at their reflection. Their hair curled around them, textured differently, held a different length than they expected but they liked it. They liked a lot of things. Relearning Rumiko's elegant motorbike was one of those things.

There's Ty, and Janet, and Gene. He's not indiscriminate, but rumours fly as they are wont to do. And then some pap catches the moment Tony and Ty become one, and. Well. Tony doesn't necessarily care, but Ty does. And when his father finds out, Howard is furious.

Still, Tony can't find it in himself to change. He steps perfectly with Sunset when she asks. It's so easy to get lost in her eyes. And maybe it's weird how together she’s so... limbed, and her voice feels like gravel in their mouths. But she’s having fun, even if she seems distracted by the papers Tony had left out.

Sunset cashes in on Tony's blueprint barely a week later.

He gets it, he does. There's a reason people wait for The One. Incompatible fusions can be dangerous. He understands that.

But he doesn't want to be, you know, himself for this Christmas. With the Rhodes on vacation and him stuck in a cold manor. Only his parents for conversation. Good ol' Obie takes some kind of pity on him, because he invites old friend Ty over for Tony's sake. And just like old times he manages to bully his way through the dinner.

He's in Tony's room, because he's not fit for public, after the dinner. He drinks and has a party of just himself, while Tony's parents drive to some fancy gala.

For some reason he's gelling more than usual, the swirling anxieties in his minds complementing even though he has too sharp teeth and eyes too many.

It's not great when Obie knocks on Tony's door and says a set of words that has half of himself blanking out. His shape gets wobbly, and he spills apart. Tony's too numb to sync with anyone anymore.

Later he'll over think this moment. If he hadn't been fused, he might've gone with his mother and dad. Been there for the accident. Maybe he'd be driving instead. Maybe he could've stopped it.

He stopped fusing for a time. His reputation never left him, but stepping up to helm the Stark business meant he had to change. There was no more room for something more than just Tony Stark.

The less said about his captivity the better.

He thinks they broke him.

He thinks that when they scooped out his chest they took the part of him that could sync, that let him become a them.

He thinks that, because when Rhodey clasps his arms around him and their foreheads touch, Tony should stop being Tony and start being Them. He and Rhodey had long grown out of having to dance to sync. Just the emotion ought to be enough and God knows Tony is feeling it.

Anyways.

So Tony never loses that reputation. It makes it awkward when he won't fuse with the team.

"It's not you," he says, and it must feel like the most cliche of cliches. "Except for you, big guy, it’s definitely you." Hulk gets a gentle pat though, because honestly, Tony would pick Hulk over the rest of the team to fuse with if he could. SHIELD would quake at the thought, and that's almost tempting enough to try.

The rest of the team is seamless with their fusions. Even Steve, who had given up his dream of waiting for The One with a 70 year ice nap and a resigned look, and excepting Thor, whose people didn't Work Like That.

Tony doesn't--can't--doesn't fuse anymore.. But he watches. The graceful arc Nat's body makes as Clint lifts her and they shimmer into a large, deadly, graceful fusion. Strong limbed and silent as they stalk through the battlefield.

Steve hurling his shield and catching Hulk's hand, the two of them seeming more to force themselves together like two cement walls colliding. And they aren't anything as graceful as Black Hawk Down over there, leaping across rooftops, but they catch Steve's shield and remember not squash all the cars in their way.

Tony has JARVIS in his ear, Iron Man wrapped around him closer than an embrace. He likes to say Iron Man is his fusion, and in a way it is; it's the closest he'll ever get to syncing with JARVIS--or anyone, now.

Watching Captain America's face as he sees a piece of his past walk into his life again shifts something in Tony's chest. (Of course he recovered the footage from the helicarriers)

Tony is surprised they don't fuse the moment Bucky's fist hits Steve's cheek.

He thinks Steve is surprised as well.

Tony thinks he can't fuse anymore. But there's no reason Bucky shouldn't be able to. Natasha is almost exact proof of that concept. But for some reason, Bucky and Steve haven't fused once. Even now, that Bucky's nominally an Avenger. Tony has seen Sam and Steve's fusion fall apart more than once even when they'd start out strong.

Steve's guilt throwing them out of wack, Tony would guess, but he's not an expert on fusing.

"Neither am I," Pepper says, long suffering as Tony bats a perpetual motion gadget on her desk. He looks into her liquid blue eyes. If he'd met her earlier he'd know the rhythm she would move in and how best to compliment it. He thinks, if he'd met her in college he'd have fallen into fusion as often with her as he had with Rhodey.

He's a little melancholy at the fact that he'll never know what they could be as a them. He likes to imagine they'd be as competent as the super spies, but for some reason he thinks they'd turn out more like the Hulk.

He tries not to think about Rhodey and Pepper determinedly not touching, like accidentally fusing in his presence would be a crime. Like they don't think he could handle them. Like they thought he should be a part of them.

"Yeah, but you have all those romance novels hiding on your shelves--"

"They aren't hiding, and if you think comparing Steve and James' situation to a book where everything can be solved with a little lucid dreaming--"

"That's it!"

"What--no, that's not what I said!"

"You're a genius, Potts!"

And Tony gets to work.

The glasses reframe past events so your present mind can work on getting closure from them.

Bucky is hesitant at first.

"They're mostly safe--"

"Mostly?" Bucky asks, his mouth held in a resigned, bemused little quirk.

"I've tested them myself, just a little mild nausea and headaches--yes mostly, this is bleeding edge right here. You have to expect the bleeding part to come in somewhere." A pause. "Metaphorical bleeding. Or cathartic bleeding, I guess."

Bucky asks for some time to think about it.

The next time they talk about it, it's like no time has passed. "It's immersive, but there's a hard stop motion involved. It can be cut off at any time, immediately, with little more repercussion than a headache."

"Immersive?"

"Well, what's the point of reliving trauma if you're not interacting with it at a 120 refresh rate?"

Bucky shakes his head. But he has that little amused despite himself smile.

Steve asks for updates and progress reports and generally floats around like a mother hen. He's nervous but eager, asks if he can be involved, if that would help, he's always there to help.

Tony says that Nat will probably be helping Bucky since she has an exceptional frame of reference for this, and a relationship with Bucky to boot.

"I don't mind Natasha, but I want you there, too."

It surprises both of them that Bucky means Tony and not Steve.

The first session with the retroframing device is more like a sleep over. Tony is using it, to demonstrate how it works with a relatively low chance of running into something heavily traumatizing for a dry run.

"I love the guy, it's just, hard, to focus on this stuff when he's right there."

"Feels like too much pressure to get it right?"

Bucky humms so Natasha says, "It feels like getting it right would almost be worse than how it is right now?"

Bucky shakes his head, then nods.

"I remember what he does, mostly, but it's so much farther away from me. I don't love him less but I've changed. And I think... even if this works I'll still be changed and he won't know how to deal with that."

"He might think you still need to be fixed, even when you're fine," Tony says, as he watches a younger him walk across a red lacquered bridge.

"I don't want to disappoint him, but what if I've just. Changed too much. What if we're too different now?"

The Tony from his memory pauses at the end of the bridge as a gust of wind blows plum tree petals across him. He reaches out but doesn't catch any.

"He'll get over it," Natasha says, straight forward as ever, the corner of her mouth lifted.

"Friends are good like that," Tony says.

Behind them, the rev of a motorcycle peals into the scene, disturbing the quiet of the blossoms and the other Tony, leaning against the bridge. The bike brakes in front of Tony, and the rider pulls off her helmet. The passenger doesn't have a helmet.

"Sorry Tony, I had to crash your date," Tyberius says, grinning as he holds Rumiko's waist.

"His father called," Rumiko said, her eyes rolling. But all three of them knew about fathers.

The other Tony wrinkled his nose, but waved them off, "Yeah, yeah. Next you'll be telling me you're working late and you can't come home." He pouted, in character, as Rumiko revved her bike.

"You'd never buy it," Ru laughed, "You know I don't work!"

The memory dissolved around them as Tony lifted the glasses off his face.

Tony and Nat and Bucky work together well. On the field and in the lab, where they help walk Bucky through his past and help him reclaim it.

It's not any surprise when, halfway through a seemingly innocuous memory of The Winter Soldier learning ballet Bucky and Natasha fuse. Almost unintentionally, but with an elegance that Tony almost misses it completely.

The environment glitches--the glasses unsure how to deal with this--before settling on a semi fragmented repetition of the current scene. The culmination of Bucky and Nat, blinking confusedly at her hands, repeated endlessly.

She take off the glasses, study herself and say, "it's been so long."

So Bucky can fuse. Steve recoeves the news with restrained glee, but he doesn't push to get a punch on Bucky's new dance card. He seems happy enough that Bucky is on the metaphorical upswing.

Knowing Bucky is taking care of himself seems to help Steve take care of himself too. He no longer stumbles out of step in battle, and holds his battle fusion with sam for longer than strictly necessary.

"You're an indescriminate, selfish piece of work!" Steve had said when he and Tony had first met. "You'd throw yourself at anything that moves as long as your life isn't on the line!"

Tony hadn't been thinking of it then, because the scepter had been pushing him into focusing more of the red hot feeling of, "You don't know anything, times have changed cap! But I guess an ice nap will do that to you, even if you are a super soldier." but with time as a buffer Tony can now wonder what SHIELD had been showing Steve.

"You want to talk big but can you back it up?"

"You wanna fight? Of course you do, that's all you were made for."

"Put on the suit."

"What, tired of looking at me?"

"I'm going to punch you and I'd rather fall out of this plane then touch you."

Steve had apologized. Tony doesn't know what prompted it, because Tony hadn't changed his attitude after diving into a worm hole, but Steve had gripped his hand, solidly. There hadn't been music playing but Tony doesn't think that would've stopped him.

Steve had certainly put a lot of effort into showing Tony that he definitely didn't mind touching him, even when the risk of fusing was high.

Something that had unseated itself when the scepter had been playing games edged back into place.

"This is going to be rough," Natasha said.

"Can't be rougher than seeing the Red Room," Tony said, expecting Natasha's husky laugh. Instead, she was frowning.

Bucky--memory Bucky, the Winter Soldier--was gearing up for something.

Bucky--the now Bucky--watched with furrowed brow.

The Iron Man suit was a prosthetic of a sort, but not the kind that would be able to replace a limb. Tony had to reach out to a dozen consultants to get the frameture right. To figure out how to counterbalance weight and friction.

Bucky had been hesitant to accept a new arm, and Tony found himself unwilling to push it. But it sure made latching onto Steve's shirt before he jumped off a building without a parachute again a lot easier.

The Winter Soldier revved the motorbike and cut through the cold night air, headlight lighting the way.

"What, what's worse than handcuffed little girls?" Tony asked, a little alarmed.

"He didn't tell you?"

The data drop was huge, and Tony had JARVIS scrape for every piece of data he could. He helped Barton coordinate rescue efforts for agents with blown covers.

It helped him put in a framework for a location program that would be ready by the time Steve reached out to him.

Seeing Steve's face as a piece of his past walks into his life again wrenches something in Tony's chest. Like a chance, or a choice.

The Winter Soldier turns down a road. The road. Tony blinks.

"What--" he knows this road.

Nat turns her head sharply and starts forward. "Bucky! нет--"

"Thank you," Steve says, which surprises Tony because it's not like he's stopped being an asshole all this time. He's still Tony. But helping Steve help Bucky slots something into place.

Tony crashes Rhodey's whatever it was he had planned to whine at him, and generally be relieved that Rhodey is there to whine at. He finds himself thinking, thank God it was me and not him. Tony doesn't envy Steve.

There's a car that the motorcycle is fast approaching. It speeds up, and the Winter Soldier reaches out and

The world dissolves as Nat shouts нет again and Bucky takes off the glasses, wincing hard.

Tony is still. "I know that road--I--" he stops.

"I mean it, Tony. Thanks for bringing him home."

Tony can't find the words to respond, he's too busy hyperfocusing on one word: home.

It's taken years. This is the first time any of the avengers has referred to the tower as "home".

Tony's had a couple homes. His Malibu cliffside mansion, where he and Pepper and Happy hide out. This tower. The pent house suite in Japan with Ru, even after the scandalous photosin the gossip rags. Rhodey's house, and Roberta's cooking. And, despite everything, the manor Fifth Avenue and all it's ghosts.

"That was my father's car," Tony says, harshly.

"I thought he told you," Natasha puts herself between Tony and Bucky, like Tony is the threat here.

"Told him what?" Bucky asks and Natasha's eyes wince a little.

"My parents were in that car!" Tony's voice is a little hysterical.

Captivity hadn't made Tony paranoid though it hadn't helped any. Papparazzi, paid spies. Sunset Bain using fusion to get his plans. Tyberius Stone filling binders with photos documenting Tony's life for profit.

His father didn't take care of much besides his business and his cars. The wreck had seemed fishy.

The Iron Man suit started out as a Frakenstein of misisle parts and sheet metal, but now he had a gauntlet in a watch.

"My mother was in that car!"

At some point, Steve had been alerted.

Tony can't beat Natasha in a fair fight. That's just a fact. But he doesn't think about that as his watch unfurls around his hand. She's not expecting it, clearly--she'd written narcissist not paranoid--because he can push her away with it's strength.

Bucky shakes his head, "I don't--I don't know, what," but he's not stupid either, he can put together the peices.

Steve can't be heard through the reinforced glass, and JARVIS is reluctant to let him in. He starts punching.

Tony reaches Bucky, who raises and arm. It's barely a fight. Even with the gauntlet, Tony built Bucky's arm too well. Tony just needs to get under his gaurd though, and he clenches his gauntleted hand in Bucky's shirt, and Bucky starts trying to pry it off.

Tony doesn't know where Natasha is but that matters less than nothing to him as he rears back his right fist and punches Bucky square on the jaw.

Glass shatters.

There's a moment where Tony and Bucky meet eyes, where they inhale the same breath. Fear and loathing and raw anger flush in their hearts and they may as well be stepping to the same song and

they stop being Tony and Bucky

And start being They.

Their hair falls in their eyes and they don't move for the longest time, heart rate slowing as they heave breaths.

Irrationally their first thought is "there's no way I'm going by Bony." It sends a wave of laughter through them, startling their friends.

"Bucky?"

"Tony?"

Come two voices, cautiously.

"Starchanan." They--he? Yeah, he.--says.

"Of course." That's Natasha's wry humor.

"What happened?" That's Steve, standing in a pile of reinforced glass, his knuckles bloody.

Starchanan focuses on that and frowns. He's mad about that. Not only should the glass have stopped Steve--Steve shouldn't have been using his knuckles in the first place, the dumb ass is incapable of not hurting himself when there's a door right there.

Natasha faces Steve. "I thought you told Tony!"

Steve's face lifts in surprise, shock, dismay. Starchanan decides he doesn't want to hear what he has to say.

It's been literal decades since Tony has fused and Bucky isn't all that practiced anymore either. But fusion is always a conversation and they both know how to talk.

Starchanan isn't as tall as Black Hawk Down--is that what I call them? Yeah, it's funnier than Clintasha--but he is built like a shit brick house.

Bucky's arm must have--

Tonys electronics got--

He's got some fancy equipment straight from the box. Shining palms wired to a glowing heart--that's all Tony. There's a heaviness in his shoulders and when he investigates it, it feels like there's a structure underneath--that's gotta be Bucky's fault.

"It's to help with recoil," he says aloud, cautiously. "Without it, 'd probably dislocate my arms using these." Saying it outloud feels better. Like it's truer.

He looks in the mirror. He looks surprisingly stable for a fusion made after discovering a murder. He should probably call someone.

"Rhodey, Pepper." He says immediatly, then winces. Then shrugs. He'd feel bad for leaning too much on Tony's friends, but he doesn't want to see Bucky's.

"This is..." Pepper starts.

"Unexpected?" Rhodey finishes.

"Yeah," Starchanan agrees.

Rhodey shakes his head, "You're really going with Starchanan?"

"Are you saying you're voting for Bony?" He asks, incredulously.

"I was thinking Winter Man sounded nice," Pepper said from behind a smile.

"Iron Winter," Rhodey tried.

"The Man Winter," Starchanan added.

It was a distraction but it was a nice one.

Now that he knew he could do it, he kind of was overwhelmed with a desire to fuse with his friends. The people he had spent the last years, months, days getting to know (again). But he wasn't done with this conversation yet, so he walked through the halls of Avengers Tower and talked.

"Eh, I'm practical." Clint says, pressing buttons on the remote, opening menus, closing them, shaking the remote in frustration. "You know, someone says fetch I fetch, someone says shoot I shoot."

Starchanan grabs the remote from Clint's hand and turns the captions on for him. "Someone says kill the enemy spy, you drag her in from the cold."

"Like I said, practical."

"Betty would've stayed with me, but I was too afraid." Bruce says. "I didn't know what would happen if I lost control, or if we fused. Or if I lost control while fused--or fusing." He takes off his glasses and cleans them.

"She wasn't worried?" Starchanan asks, spinning himself around on a chair.

"She was worried I hated myself so much I'd do something about it."

"Did you?" He asks, though half of him knows the answer.

Bruce looks placidly at him, then smiles. "Yeah."

"How'd that work out for you?" He couldn't help the disgruntled frustration stirring in him.

"Surprisingly, that wasn't the healthiest thing I could've done."

Starchanan stops spinning to fold his hands on the island, and press he forehead to them. He made a noise like the spinning made him dizzy, but Bruce could see through it no doubt.

"But. I'm here now, and this is. A lot better than I'd ever let myself dream of before. Letting myself have it is hard, but worth it."

"I thought he had explained." Natasha said.

"You could've instead."

"It wasn't my secret."

"It shouldn't have been a secret."

She presses her lips together. Sighs. "I didn't want to be a reason Steve and Tony fought."

"We fight all the time."

She laughs. "A real fight--I don't like when mom and dad fight."

His mouth twitches. "You'd be a hell child."

"That's the only good kind."

"Sharing your entire being with another, without reservation, is truly a wonder." Thor said, grabbing another bag of popcorn.

"Little bit," he replied.

"What's it like? Jane had described it to me as a joining of two books. Reshuffled to make a new story."

Starchanan thought on that, but decided the metaphor didn't feel right for him. "For me--both of us--It's like a conversation."

"A good one?"

"It can be."

"What is your conversation about?"

He looks into the mirror. It's safety glass because Tony has a habit of punching his reflection. Starchanan understands the action, but feels no urge. His reflection is interesting, not frightening.

His face is even, with big eyes and heavy brows. His hair is wavey, soft, and curls around his ears.

His face is growing familiar.

"I'm sorry." Steve apologises. Of course he does.

"I don't think I forgive you."

"Will he? Will they?"

"You'll have to talk to them yourself." Starchanan says.

Steve nods, shoulders heavy and tense as Atlas. Starchanan doesn't resist the urge to punch Steve's shoulder. "Look, I don't forgive you. But we should talk anyways."

"I didn't think--"

"Not about that, we're, well. Not done. But we're moving on from that now."

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"Hmm. Have you ever been on a road trip?" Starchanan asks, "There's a lot of places I haven't been."

Steve looks up, done wringing his hands. "I might be able to help with that."

#kamaeteWRITES #tony stark #bucky barnes #avengers team #fusion

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jjaemiin · 6 years

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jaemin//comfort.

Jaemin had once told you that you were like a song he had heard when he was little that he had forgot he knew until he heard it again. You had replied with a whispered thank you. It seemed pathetic, your reply, beside his poetic words, but the word’s weight didn’t impact you until weeks after. Even now, the phrase wove through your mind like a silver thread.

It could be interpreted in so many ways- was it a confession? The frustration that came with your reply haunted you; you had the perfect opportunity to ask what he meant and now it was gone. Now neither of you spoke of it- as if the words never existed. But they were so real in your head, they burned, burned, burned.

Nothing ever came of it mind, you both continued with the matter unspoken. Best friends but so much more. You thought you were in love with him, but could you be in love with someone just because of who they are? And if not, what were you supposed to fall in love with, actions? Albeit, a part of the love did come within actions. For instance, his laugh, part of you thought you could start wars and burn cities for such a melodic sound and that scared you. He told you he would never be your weakness but if only he’d known it was too late for that.

Yet you were naive to believe he didn’t think any different. Everyone could see it, your friendship flourishing into something else entirely. A beautiful thing to watch and very much a powerful thing. It had so much potential, love; to destroy, to conquer, to cure. What you put to practise with it mattered.

Naturally, you stayed at his dorm when he was ill. A blessing and a curse. Jaemin ill was a Jaemin that needed affection, touch and everything in between. He made you flustered and shy, but you would be lying if you didn’t pine for these things any other time; now that he was ill it was merely an excuse and a comfort. You watched his members tease him for it, claiming he wasn’t as ill as he was making out, and defended him when he pouted. Secretly, you agreed with the other boys but like most things, that was best unspoken.

It was midday when you left his bedroom, purposefully draping extra blankets over his lanky body. He was content- soft edges and soft snores. It was overcast outside but frantic sunlight still managed to break through shifting clouds, bleaching the bedroom in a warm heavenly glow. A crash from the kitchen chased by laughter pulled Jaemin from the sleep he tried so desperately to hold onto. Slender fingers danced through bed sheets searching for warmth, searching for you- sleep infused. He opened his eyes when he realised you weren’t there, itchy throat croaking out the sound of your name.

He craved you, even more so in this state; he needed warmth, he needed comfort. With a disgruntled sigh he pawed at the water you had left him- heaven against his dry throat- before wrapping a fleece blanket over his shoulders and stumbling to the living room barefoot. His ears perked upon familiar laughs- you Donghyuck and Renjun, blankets and a film on the TV- something that had somewhat become a ritual between the three of you. He watched silently from the doorway before any of you noticed, a smile tugging at his lips and heart-warming. Hyuck sat on the rug with his head against your knees as you braided his hair, Renjun beside you feeding popcorn whilst your hands worked. Your friendships were to be envied. You were aware it was possible to have friends that weren’t all encompassing, deafening, maddening it was just now you had this with them you didn’t want any other. You were all in love in a sense, all equally as obsessed with one another, it was just so seamless and natural it took a while to realise. What a strange constellation you all were.

With a hand through pink locks Jaemin crossed the living room, causing your eyes to flicker up- watching. Smile slipping slightly at his pale face and shaky hands, wondering if you should really see a doctor instead of brushing it off as a common cold. You made a note to call the surgery when you woke up, for now settling in the comfort from small actions- the things he apricated the most. Holding the blanket open for him, he sandwiched himself in between you and Renjun. Complaints grumbled from the latter due to there being no actual room for Jaemin’s stupidly long body. He snuggled beneath fleece and pressed his face to your chest nonetheless- inhaling your scent, comfort.

Absentmindedly, his arm wound around your waist, fingers tracing skin and your mind transfixed on the small action and the fact you could feel his lips and jagged breaths in place of where your t shirt dipped. Your mind made complexities of the simplest things, but you still allowed your heart to flutter. He sighed contently when you threaded your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp- an action he had always adored, always craved from you- eyes falling shut once more, small hums of content.

‘You want any tea or coffee?’ you whispered, fingers never faulting.

Shaking his head stubbornly, he pushed his face further into you mumbling something about only wanting you. Your cheeks went warm and you momentarily hated the effected he had on you.

He only moved when Renjun and Donghyuck left for practise to sprawl out cramped limbs, whining when you shifted beneath him begging you to stay- grip on you tightening. You did of course, neither of you said much, if anything at all. Purely silent reassurances and lingering touches. The line between friendship or something more blurring increasingly. Eyes heavy with sleep still, he allowed himself to drift off as you hummed a familiar song into his hair.

It was near sundown when he woke up again, the room washed in pink and orange hues- picturesque. Neither of you had moved, he held you tighter rasping out a good evening. Your heavy eyes drifted to his face, your hand reaching out to trace over his delicate cheek bones before your head had time to think about it. You whispered good evening back. It was formal and out of place, but it worked. Leaning into your hand he smiled and yawned, and you unintentionally mirrored the action before he asked you where the others were.

Your hand wound through his messy hair as you replied enticing low purrs from him “VLive relay in the company building I think, something like that,”

He nodded at the information, a little dazed looking and you could feel his heartbeat from being chest to chest.

“How long are you gonna stay?” he croaked as he flopped his head back down, now against your neck avoiding eye contact; you could feel his breath ghost over collar bones.

“As long as you need me,”

It was the same reply every time and he was unable to give an answer back- he always needed you, in some form of the word, yet how was he supposed to say that? His feelings for you were like an oil spill, a single flame could light his entire world on fire. You were both a car crash, but instead of breaking you were hitting the accelerator- each of you failing to acknowledge it.

He propped himself up after a few beats of silence and looked at you in a way that made him seem far away, so you raised an eyebrow questioningly. You could feel the energy in the room shift and your heart was filled with both desire and dread. Two things that, in theory, shouldn’t coexist beside one another, yet they were coiling around inside of you, sharping each other. The dread wasn’t the awful kind, it was just the kind that you felt when there was something unfamiliar and unknowing- the energy had shifted, but you weren’t entirely sure what that meant.

Your name fell from chapped lips, however nothing else followed except the dull mumbling of the TV in the background. His brown orbs searched yours and you flicked your own gaze to his mouth. Unintentional. You reached out and traced along his bottom lip lightly with the tip of your finger and Jaemin held his breath. You had such an urge to kiss it, bite it, watch it transform into his crooked smile. You could feel his gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up again; you’d find yourself at the mercy of questioning eyes pleading to know what you were doing- at this point you weren’t even sure yourself. The action was torturous for both parties- why couldn’t it be simple?

And perhaps it was simple, you each just possessing the ability to perfectly overcomplicate. Part of you genuinely believed that was the problem, but how could you be so sure? Do you love him? You couldn’t answer with your lips because you were too focused on his- so you kissed him.

When your lips touched it was every night spent longing for one another and every night spent in each other’s company. It was years of laughter and cuddles and his mouth working perfectly against your own. It was feeling each divot in his lips and not caring about teeth clashing. Soft and innocent; the perfect confession that your words could never make. It was years of unspoken I love you’s because in the end that’s what it boiled down to.

His world ignited.

Foreheads presses together, you pulled away not daring to move to far from him. Closed eyes and shaky breaths.

“I love you,” Echoed from the boy and it was all you had ever wanted to hear in the longest time- a smile tugged at your mouth, euphoric.

“I love you too,” Still unmoving, basking in each others presence.

He opened his eyes the same time you did and laughed, a genuine laugh that sounded like relief.

“You’re gonna get sick now too,”

A groan on your behalf as he pressed multiple chaste kisses all over you face but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The world was brighter.

Masterlist

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