[in sum]: nichkhun finally gets what wooyoung wants from him: a kiss.
note(s): a little ficlet for those starved for nichkhun/wooyoung like i am.
nichkhun stares dully into space. there are sounds of crinkling papers, folding plastic chairs, distant chatter, and trunks closing up to be packed off.
"we're done here" the manager says. "we have a wrap-up meeting in an hour."
nichkhun nods, but his gaze is still far away. someone, probably a coordi, wraps a scarf around nichkhun's neck.
"it's cold out there. don't catch a cold."
the voice is vaguely flirtatious. it amuses nichkhun for a nanosecond before nichkhun realizes that the soft flutter of the fabric on his jawline reminds him of a certain other person's concerned touch.
"you have crumbs on your chin. what would we do if the famous nichkhun sports crumbs? geez, come on." a playful nudge to his mid-section completes the memory.
the thought charges other neurons and the connection leads him to a laugh. straight white teeth and deliciously rosy lips. there's another firing of brain cells and nichkhun remembers a gaze up at nichkhun's eyes. lazy eyelids moving upward to reveal...
"we're going to be late nichkhun. hurry up."
nichkhun follows the manager out of the building, into the van, wordlessly, still lost in the haze of memories. he gets settled in his seat as the engine warms up. nichkhun notices his palms are sweaty and rubs them on his pants. still in stage attire, his hands slip on the nylon fabric.
he's been here before. the slip of a warm palm on his thigh, but the hand had not been his own. there had been a playful giggle to go with that electrifying sensation and the bumping of a shoulder asking, "is it okay to do more?"
and then nichkhun remembers what those eyes reveal. nichkhun smiles and tries to remember more, but they've arrived.
"fifteen minutes until the meeting. fifth floor. don't forget" the manager tells nichkhun.
nichkhun nods and slowly descends the steps to get into the building. he unwraps the scarf from his neck, shivering not from the cold. he enters the main floor and presses the elevator button, licking his lips in anticipation unknowingly. the elevator dings open and there's a building up in his throat of a name. in nichkhun's mind are a pair of eyes that say, "hurry up and realize, you idiot."
nichkhun reaches the fifth floor and enters the conference room. there's no one. empty chairs and a silence that roars in nichkhun's ears until...
"hyung?" comes a drowsy voice.
a chair rolls back. two more and there, revealed, is wooyoung in a make-shift bed of conference room chairs. wooyoung sits up. he rubs his neck because there must be a crick in it from sleeping awkwardly even if it was for only twenty minutes.
"what took you so...?"
but the curiosity behind the question is lost when nichkhun's lips find what they're looking for. it's nothing shameful. all nichkhun does is press his lips to wooyoung's. but it feels as if nichkhun is finally feeling all the hints through physical contact and it makes nichkhun's voice uncharacteristically hoarse.
"sorry for making you wait" nichkhun tells wooyoung.
nichkhun pecks wooyoung one more time before the others start coming into the conference room. everyone keeps asking why wooyoung is so flushed. and the manager notes that nichkhun's looking much more energetic than he did an hour ago.