one of my closest friends, imagine my surprise when your name popped up! after you told me you weren't joining!! ahahaha i am going to crush you.
title: hot hot summer
prompt: "yunho drags changmin out on a ski trip to the swiss alps for valentine's BUT he somehow books the flight wrong and they end up Honolulu, Hawaii"
beta: haeym, thank you so much! ;; also lyeon who suffered three weeks of my whining about this.
notes: zee i will crush you no really. though i guess you can't complain about the possible hawaii lack or title now huhuhuhu. SMS ME WHEN YOU SEE THIS!!11!!1!
February means crisp cold air and stinging wind so neither notice yet that something has gone terribly, horribly wrong. That comes after they've settled into their seats, thick coats draped over their laps, leather boots knocking in anticipation.
There is a pause after the captain greets his passengers. Eyebrows furrowed, Changmin turns to Yunho and hisses over the safety protocols announcements, "where did you say we were going?"
A huff sends sweat damp hair out of his face. He catches his breath – lost to running for the flight gates – and says, "Swiss Alps right?"
Changmin stares at him blankly, lips pursed. He pinches the bridge of his nose, then demands, "Let me see the tickets!"
Yunho pulls them out and stares. The neat print most definitely doesn't say anything close to Swiss..
There is a pause.
Yunho gulps, "huh, I've never looked so closely at a ticket before, must be the whole spoilt idol thing, wow, imagine that, eh, Changmin? … Changmin?"
The man in question flicks the ticket back at his face, pulls his eye mask over his eyes and doesn't speak for the rest of their flight.
It is a really long flight. Luckily, they both fall asleep an hour in.
Changmin only relents when they touch down, because in the lobby of the airport, no managers to guide them through, they get well and truly lost within the first few metres. following mutely doesn't work because hyung has as lousy a sense of direction as he does, so hand in hand, the fight against the tide of flip flopping, singlet doning crowd of locals returning home, until they finally find the right queue.
The airport is huge. There are counters upon counters bearing the logos of transport schedules and taxis and tour guides, but few for hotels. it would make sense, that anyone coming here would already have booked one.
Changmin isn't sure if the stares directed at him are because of his idol status or his thick jeans and long sleeves. Maybe it's the coat draped over his arm when he's in fucking Hawaii. He scowls hard behind his sunglasses and ducks his head further, muttering a curse under his breath. He doesn't wait for Yunho to catch up, just marches straight across the entire lobby until he can stare through the glass doors.
"Think I'm going to die," Changmin says, squinting hard at the outside world. He will not take a single step out of it, or leave his air conditioned lobby. Already, his slacks are starting to cling, sticky with sweat. "We need a flight back, pronto Swiss Alps, our hotel is waiting, right?"
Unfortunately, they haven't the time for another whole day flight without sacrificing half of their off time. It was hard enough as is, getting days off during the tail end of the lunar new year holidays. There aren't any flights on such short notice, even star power – less effective on the other side of the world – cannot kick people off to free up seats, and. The better rooms of the hotels are of course, booked.
"I'm going to kill you," Changmin hisses through his teeth, as Yunho tries to negotiate a room with faulty English. When Yunho turns to him for help, he clarifies himself very carefully, "kill you dead, the fantastic journey of Jung Yunho to stardom ends right fucking here," with the brightest smile on his face.
The counter woman smiles at him encouragingly, then looks to Yunho for a translation. Yunho can only laugh and he tries again, flailing his arms wildly.
Through sheer luck or Yunho's face - recognisable idol or not, he can be charming when he wants to - they find this out: the available rooms from hotels across the island are a mish mash of terrible locations and tiny single beds and no attached bathrooms. Thankfully, they've more money to wave around than usual, and finally the room is… not as offensive as it could be. They decide to trade in space for privacy.
The door opens to a spacious one room, two single beds, a balcony overlooking the beach. It is far smaller than what they've been used to for years now, but at least the view is spectacular and no one would be able to spy, not at this height. They've thick curtains as well and the room had been booked under their manager's name and company credit card. Room service will probably not be employed for the three days they are here.
An idol's paranoia is never so easily placated.
"You know what this reminds me of?" Yunho asks, no, he demands, overly cheerful. The luggage he swings onto a bed, claiming it as his, and then realises with a frown that they won't be sharing.
"A tiny recording booth," Changmin guesses. Irritated, he shoves the suitcase off the bed then pushes Yunho out of the way. He stands, hands on his hips, and surveys the situation.
"No," says Yunho, again extra loud. It seems like Changmin is up to something, so obediently he moves the luggage out of the way, and while waiting for Changmin to do his worst, he continues, "This reminds me of our old room."
"We weren't that poor when we roomed together," Changmin reminds him, "our room was already way bigger than this space. Twice as big, even."
"Old hotels then, back when we were trying to start out in Japan, squashed into one room," Yunho suggests. He lights up as the memory aligns nicely with the fact that Changmin is now tugging determinedly at all the wires of the gadgets lying on his table, the bedside table separating their beds. "Oh! We'll push the beds together, just like old days!"
And so it goes, the table is pushed out, then left, then hoisted onto one of the beds when there simply isn't enough space anywhere else without first shoving the beds together. Then the beds are shoved against the wall, and then when Yunho grumbles and whines for a better view, the beds are re shoved against the glass divider of the balcony. Finally, the bedside table, they squeeze between the bed and the wall.
By the time both men flop onto the bed, they are shiny with sweat. It isn't just the exhaustion and the jetlag, but the sticky heat. Changmin groans a bit, sits up, pulls off his shirt and flings it to one side, too annoyed to be neat at the moment. He shoves Yunho out of the way, so that he can stretch out on the untouched parts of the bed. He sighs as his skin comes in contact with the cool sheets and squirms happily.
He looks left, and Yunho is propped up on one elbow, head resting in his hand, and there is the oddest look on his face as he watches him.
"What?" Changmin snaps, suddenly self conscious. "Don't think I'm still not angry at you for fucking up the tickets, do you know how impossible it is to do that? The ordering and the confirmation, the bills, the check in, how didn't you notice, if anyone could fuck this up it'd be – oi!"
He says oi, but it comes out more as a squeak, because Yunho has his fingertips trailing across Changmin's collarbone, teasing, ticklish. Changmin flushes despite himself. "What?"
"I was wrong," Yunho says, and before Changmin can get his I told you so in, Yunho adds instead, "about this being just like old times."
He leans across the mattress then, and kisses him.
So okay, not like old times then because this is definitely new. Maybe old times like the secret crush he'd once harboured, Changmin thinks, thoughts flying everywhere and crashing around his skull haphazard, not so secret now but kissing hyung is still new and exciting and strange and – he groans softly, blushes at the way he sounds, and shoves Yunho firmly off him.
"Don't!" he splutters, and at the cautious, disappointed look that Yunho wears, says instead, "I – I need some warning next time okay, sheesh!"
The luggage is dumped on the bed. They dread opening them, but they've no choice. Yunho drags and yanks on the zipper so quickly, as though the friction will become magic and the magic will turn his clothes to something regionally appropriate.
Sweaters and thick thermal underwear stare up at him despondently, sheepishly at being quite useless. Yunho swallows a sigh, scrubs a hand through his hair, and then turns to Changmin.
No such luck, worse even. Their thick winter coats sit nervously in Changmin's suitcase and tucked beneath them are heat packs.
"We have nothing," Changmin declares. "We are fucked."
"Don't say that! We have. Well." With a single finger Yunho pokes at the suitcase's contents hopefully. "Maybe the underwear – no those are cashmere, aren't they?"
Slowly, carefully, Changmin tells him, "I am going to kill you."
"All isn't lost yet! We can use what we've got!" The light in his eyes reminds Changmin of super enthusiastic inventor Jung, all those years ago twisting rope out of coconut husk fibres. Changmin braces himself then, and sure enough, Yunho declares: "We'll just have to make our own clothes! Improvise until we get some new ones!" He grins terribly and adds, "The ones we have are just too much right? We could cut the sleeves off, cut the legs off, they should last us the time it takes to grab new ones."
"You cut my clothes," Changmin hisses, murderous, "I cut you!"
Ah right, the new fashion conscious Shim, how could Yunho have forgotten? He raises his hands, placating. "Just one or two sets will do! You brought that swiss army gadget you always do right? It'll be a cinch." Changmin looks so nasty that Yunho takes one step back, rushes to add, "There are shopping malls all over the place here, we'll find something no problem. Look, I'll go and ask, okay?"
His only reply is a wail of despair as Changmin belly flops onto the bed and attempts to smother himself with the pillow. Oh, okay then. Quiet bid farewell, Yunho sneaks out of the room, promising to be back triumphant.
Yunho comes back to find Changmin stretched out in the balcony, chest and long long legs – bare. The visitors maps he dumps into a haphazard pile on the bed, and then stalks up to the balcony, hip propped against the door frame. He feels his jaw slacken, his mouth wets. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks weakly.
Changmin turns to him, fingering the fraying cuffs of his sawed off jeans – so so short they crawl more than half way up his thighs. "If I tan unevenly it'll be all your fault."
It takes a beat before Yunho responds because he can't seem to look away from where the hem digs into fleshy thigh. He mumbles, "Then maybe you shouldn't tan at all."
The sun is eclipsed and a hand skims up his leg, fingers brushing dangerously at his inner thigh instinctively – sun, outdoors, must hide – Changmin pushes him away, and his skin turns even redder under all that skin.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demands, eyeing Yunho suspiciously. His hyung is showing quite a bit of skin himself. "And what happened to your shirt?"
"It was too hot!" Yunho grins then and – never mind his self consciousness, he's a performer after all – slides a palm down his chest, trails down until his fingers brush against his treasure trail, lower still until they push at the waistband of his pants. His grin is wicked. "I took it off in the lift."
"You went down to the lobby shirtless?" Changmin squints at him, trying to look unimpressed. The surreptitious wriggle to make his shorts more comfortable gives him away. "Can you do that? Is that how low we've fallen, what if someone had recognised you?!"
"No one made a sound, and you've come here before in secret and that went well!" He holds up his hands because Changmin can compare their popularity, little old him versus the great Jung Star. "Enough about me," he says, smile quirking. "You. Come inside?"
Changmin narrows his eyes dangerously, but gets off the beach chair and saunters in. "I want a blowjob," he declares, hooking fingers into Yunho's belt hoops and dragging him further into the room.
Obediently, Yunho follows, though his hands can't help but wander, groping at bare skin and reeling Changmin back against him. "I want to fuck you," he whines, "I want you to come with your long long legs around my waist."
With a huff, Changmin pushes at his shoulders until Yunho is kneeling neatly between his legs. He leans back on the bed, swipes a pink tongue over plush lips. "Later," he says indulgently, "suck me first."
By the time sun sets, Changmin is a messy sprawl beneath the sheets. When Yunho prods at him, he becomes a grumpy ball, pillow pulled over his head.
"Jet lag," he mumbles. "You go do whatever it is you want, don't wake me until dinner!"
"It's dinner now," Yunho points out, but after a long sticky limb swipes out at him, he has to concede. And he isn't even slightly upset, because it's just sunken in that he's in Hawaii. After wiping Changmin down with a wet towel and accepting his petulant kiss of gratitude, he dons the most suitable clothes he owns – a ratty tee he brought to sleep in, and a pair of slacks cut into shorts.
"That's my t-shirt!" Changmin shouts just as Yunho's about to leave.
"I'll buy you another!" he yells back, which translates to you are never getting it back, so he closes the door behind him before his scolding comes, and flees.
As promised, Yunho returns with another. Several others, in fact, and each one more hideous than the rest. To add salt to injury, Yunho has traded in Changmin's t-shirt for a nasty looking singlet, neon yellow. It clashes with his skin, it clashes with everything, it is such a terrible eyesore that Changmin detours away from Yunho and heads to the bed instead. He flops down, arm across his eyes, dripping water everywhere.
"Pick one," Yunho tells him brightly, "and then we can go for dinner."
Fresh out of the shower, towel slung carelessly across his lap, Changmin stares at the mess of garish colours and ugly foliage. There are hula dancers swaying across the hem of one of the shirts. "You are purposely making life hard for me," he concludes, "first the flight, then the ruining of my favourite jeans, now this."
"Wouldn't do that to you," Yunho tells him, eyes wide. He's never been the best of actors so when he says, "honest!" it sounds anything but.
Scowling, Changmin stomps over to Yunho's luggage, tugs the lid open and stares down at the assortment of abandoned clothes, half his half Yunho's. It's hard to choose one to ruin. "This!" he decides, holding up a thinner purple shirt – Yunho snatches it away from him immediately.
"Not this one!" he cries, one hand clutching it to his chest, the other trying to shove one of the new shirts at him. I like this one!"
"And I liked these jeans too you asshole, give it!"
"No way!!" shouts Yunho, flailing desperately. Changmin's been working out way too much because he can't wrestle it out of his grip - so he tackles him to the bed instead, using his heavier weight to pin him down. "Changmin – yah! stop fighting you brat just wear the damn –!"
"You can't make me!!" With a battle roar, Changmin bucks Yunho off him, tries to leap off the bed only to have Yunho cling onto his leg. "Fuck!" he curses, he knew one day his endless limbs would get him into trouble someday, curse his golden proportions! "Let go you – ugh – wuuargh!!"
By the time they leave the room, they are rumpled messes. Changmin's hair sticks out every which way, and his ugly t-shirt is not only so fucking hideous, but it's missing a button as well. Yunho doesn't fare much better, shifting from one leg to the other and wincing at the bruises along his shin. There are red marks along his arm where Changmin bit him.
The sight that they make, the young hotel staff takes one look at, and then starts giggling and batting eyelashes at them.
"This is all your fault," says Changmin darkly.
"Technically, they're right, you know? We really are having sex - oof!"
"Please, like I'd let you do this to me." And for good measure, he steps down hard on Yunho's toes. Even under his rubber, squishy flip flops, Yunho flinches. He laughs at that, rich, so Yunho can't even find it in himself to be annoyed.
Hawaii after dark is not at all dark. Even on the darker stretches of the beach, they are a lit with touristy tikki torches. The air is thick and humid but the breeze is cool and pleasant against their sticky skin. Yunho leads them away from the hotel and instead of heading towards the bright lit city, he leads them down the winding the path to the beach.
"You know where we're going?" Changmin asks.
Yunho beams up at him as he fishes out his flip flops. "I made a friend!" he announces, "and we are going to meet her!"
Changmin snorts. "In the half hour you were out there getting clothes? Of course you did."
"She's nice, small girl, not a single clue who I was. Promised to show us around for a little pocket money."
Changmin pauses. "Hyung," he says slowly. "A woman approached you while you were alone. Wants to play tour guide. Are you sure she expects me to show up with you?" A melodramatic frown pouts his lips. "Are you sure?"
Yunho reaches over, and slaps him sharply upside the head. "I really really ain't that popular with ladies!" he says, time and again because Changmin never seems to believe this. "She's really going to show us around, that's all."
The girl shows up with her big brother, huge and hulking. He is terrifying, until he finds that they really do just want some good local food. The money she pockets really can't be considered change anymore but the joint she introduces them is impressive. A tiny local business, they wouldn't even have been able to order without her translating. The girl shows them through the smoky interior, leading them around crammed tables and howling old men until the restaurant spits them out into a sandy veranda near the shore.
It's emptier out here because the wind blows a bit too strongly at night, but Yunho stretches out against the night sky, and promises to sit against it to shield Changmin's precious food. It turns out for nought because there is so much seafood delivered to the table that Yunho's bulk stands no chance.
Before Changmin gets to complain, however, Yunho stuffs into that open mouth a large forkful of sea salt baked fish and grilled plantain. After that he has to rush to eat before Changmin finishes it all.
By the time they're done with dinner and headed back to the hotel, Changmin has eaten so much that Yunho thinks he'll have to be rolled back. His cheeks are flushed, whether with pleasure or the four cans of beer he downed to Yunho's one, and Yunho rather wants to pinch them. They'll grow chubby in a day or two, and deflate just as fast, but it wouldn't be noticeable with that slim idol frame he has. Ah, this might be the only chance he has after all, what with them living separately for a while now, so this vacation might be his last chance, hair untouched by product curling gently around those plump –
Yelping, Changmin jerks away from him. Both men eye the hand that Yunho had reaching for Changmin's cheek, one surprised, the other... suspicious.
"What –" Changmin leans further back until the path stretches between them "– did you think you were going to do with that?!"
At once Yunho snatches his hand back and says slowly, "I wasn't going to pinch your cheek or anything – ah." Too late, he has to rush after Changmin, matching his stomps with frantic scuttling. "Wait up!"
"You creep!" Changmin shouts over his shoulder, and then he is chased all the way back to the hotel, breathless and grinning.
"Your fault," groans Changmin, clutching at his sides the next morning. Whether from the excessive food or all that running they did right after, he can't tell, but they are ache with that soreness that refuses to be stretched out.
Yunho laughs, and gets to pinch that cheek after all. He's really getting the hang of dodging angry, sticky limbs now and after doing so, rolls Changmin off the bed, grumbling complaints and all.
First order of business after breakfast – Changmin learns not his lesson and stuffs himself at the hotel buffet anyway – is shopping. There are so many brands of suntan lotion that they don't know which to choose. Changmin huffs, gives up, and plucks the most expensive bottle from the shelf.
"Expensive quality lotion for expensive quality skin," he points out, "it can't be helped an idol's worth is in his appearance, okay?"
Which is certainly true, but Yunho hadn't intended to complain in the first place, especially when Changmin lets him slather it all over his back, working into that soft skin, back of his arms and curving around the sides of his waist. When Changmin returns the favour, he explores less, but leans in unnecessarily close. Their skin ends up flushed despite their efforts.
The beach is every bit as breath-taking as every brochure and advertisement and commercial they've ever seen of this famous island. It catches them by surprise, even after Bora Bora, because they'd quite been used to things on television being a fair bit less magical in real life but – it really is. They could spend hours walking down the beach, then the road by its side lined with countless of stores, colours splashed vibrantly.
Despite that they have so little time here, and Yunho strains and twitches to do everything possible, the atmosphere relaxes them, slackens their resolve to spend this holiday attempting everything, and deposits them on lounge chairs by the one of the many stages littering the beach to watch the dancers, the fire eaters, the magicians.
Changmin scoots his chair open in guise of reaching to steal some of Yunho's cocktail. It wouldn't be so bad, he thinks as Yunho hands over his drinks and brushes their fingers briefly together, if they spend the rest of the holiday like this.
Tomorrow isn't quite the last day exactly, but it is the last full day they'd have together, so Yunho can't help but be a little distracted. Work has always and will always come first so the time they'd been allotted is limited. It will also be up soon. He doesn't quite want to go back. Changmin lives with his family now. They see each other less and less with their solo activities looming. Thank god for concert rehearsal. He supposes there's still that, and once in Japan they will take up again the rented top floor apartment, a shared hotel suite.
When Changmin comes out of the shower, towel slung over his wet hair and boxers slung low, he stands in the middle of the room, and looks lost. The same but not quite, he can't seem to slide beneath the sheets to join Yunho as he once did. Now he sits at the edge of the bed, takes forever with drying his hair, until Yunho huffs softly and places a hand on his shoulder to coax him close.
Maybe the distance will be good in the end; their relationship is already rough and tumble, and it might have been awfully more so if they hadn't a break from each other and their terrifying new relationship every now and then, just to sort themselves out.
They are quiet for a moment, shifting in the dark to get comfortable, then Yunho mentions absently, "I caught the last episode of your show before we left." He doesn't expect it when Changmin flairs suddenly, shoves hard against his shoulder.
"You did not!" Suddenly lively again, embarrassment colours his voice.
"Why not?!" With a laugh, he pins Changmin down again, using his weight to squash him against the mattress, and then rolling him like sushi with his knees braced against the sheets just to be extra annoying. "It was a good show! You did good! Ahhh, Changdola is growing up so fast, he knows how to talk now!" He pauses, unmindful of the wriggling ball of agitation beneath him. "Oh, your mum told me to tell you to stop making pervert comments by the way."
"She did not! Stop conspiring with her!" One last jab into hyung's ribs and then Changmin huffs as he sprawls flat against the mattress, trusting Yunho not to smother him. "Okay, conversation over, you cheat, good night!"
"We don't have much time," Changmin gripes, "this is going to be a waste of energy, you're never going to learn how to surf."
Yunho stares at the glorious cut that Changmin makes in his trunks, rivulets running down his torso, "I don't know," he says, "I'm already having fun myself."
When leading him out to the surf, against the crashing of the clear waves, Changmin takes his hand easily – well, he takes his wrist anyway, fingers dimpling flesh. Yunho startles, swings his arm and when Changmin stays attached to him, he looks up at the slight curve at the line of his mouth. He looks around and then is surprised again, when no one is looking back.
The air is different here, and it's not just that airheaded romantic way that Yunho decides everything is different here, but – there is a hitch in his throat, the quiet elation when he realises they can be – not entirely open, but more so than they usually are in South Korea, in Japan, in any Asian country and parts of. They do still have to be careful of course, there is such a large Asian population here, but.
It's been a while since they've been able to throw themselves so whole-heartedly into anything without worrying about how they look, whether they're being as perfect as their image demands. Surfing (Changmin surfs, Yunho, well, he splashes mostly) is nice, not sun tanning their precious idol skin is nice, watching out for each other and just watching each other without a dozen or so people watching them is nice as well. The grin he has is stuck, and even when his impressive, super manly surf board is traded for a smaller body board, he doesn't even protest.
A shout, Yunho plunges into the waves. When he emerges, Changmin's hand tight around his arm, his eyes sting with sea water and punishment for not paying attention. He's lost count of how many times this has happened to him today, so he can only laugh and kick out until his body board floats back towards him, strung to his ankle.
Sprawled out on the sand, he looks up and there Changmin is, haloed by the Hawaiian sun. For a moment he basks, and then he notices, "How are you still so dry?"
"Expert surfer extraordinaire," Changmin replies the most seriously, "genius super talented namja never falls!!" and really shouldn't be surprised at all when Yunho bellows and tackles him into the surf.
Later Yunho tells him, "You look good wet!" with the most cheery thumbs up he can manage.
Changmin barks with laughter and disbelief. "I know," he declares, chin tilted up proudly. He's got a whole line of photoshoots and music videos to prove this after all. "But flattery will not get you out of paying me dinner!"
And it's not fair at all, the disparity between their eating habits, but Yunho agrees easily.
There is a song in the air, soft hummed and trembling. Yunho blinks against the sleep in his eyes and snuffles against the thigh under his cheek. A hand soothes through his hair. When Yunho squirms around, squints against the dark, Chagngmin has his other hand raised, as though singing to an audience.
Yunho moves to get up, and the hand in his hair shifts down to his back. He grumbles unintelligently, and Changmin stops long enough to shush him, then slides neatly back into the verse he's singing.
Yunho realises two things: first, that the song Changmin is singing sounds so familiar because it is one of the songs that is in their Japanese album. It may be sung live for the five dome concert tour if they can work out the choreography, so Changmin must be practicing. Two, Changmin must think he's asleep, because Changmin's never been one to be so straightforwardly gentle, to lure him back to undisturbed sleep. He wonders if there's any way to let him know otherwise, without the embarrassing both of them.
For a moment he feigns sleep, closes his eyes and lets Changmin's voice wash over him. it's richer than it'd once been, less restrained even as Changmin near whispers into the quiet of the night, low snatches of the song disappearing silently. He tries to sleep, he can't, he decides to let Changmin know:
"I'm not asleep, you know," Yunho says, then winces as the hand in his hair tightens suddenly. Changmin whelps in surprise and his other hand goes to clutch at his chest.
"What," Changmin demands. "How long have you been – why are you – were you pretending to be asleep? Why are you hiding from me?!"
The accusations come swift and unexpected, Yunho jerks upright, and he frowns without restraint, in the anonymity of the dark of the night. "I'm not hiding anything!"
A slap is delivered to his shoulder, and then Changmin hisses, "You tell me when you're awake, sheesh!"
Yunho's distinct laughter rings out in the dark. "Are you being shy?" he demands incredulously. "Now of all times?!"
"No! I was just –" another attack hits him out of nowhere, hidden by the dark "– Jung Yunho stop laughing!!"
Unrelenting, Yunho crows triumphantly, "You are," and gets handsy looking for a cheek to pinch. "That's adorable"
"I'm dedicated to our work, we have concerts coming soon and somehow, we have even less time than the last to prepare. I have to make use of every moment, okay?!"
Excuses excuses – Yunho chortles. "We're on vacation, relax a bit."
Changmin stiffens against him. He turns his head and presses his face into Yunho's shoulder. "It ends tomorrow."
"Ah, well." That's true, Yunho muses, it's nice to know Changmin had been thinking the same. "We had fun while it lasted."
"We won't see each other for a while."
"Concert rehearsals. The five dome tour isn't that far off." Yunho curls his fingers into Changmin's hair. He's not had it this long since they've entered this relationship, which is a shame because it's so soft and really, Yunho will never complain about Changmin's expensive shampoos ever again, even if they sometimes smell funny. He presses his nose into it again, inhales. "Looking forward to them?"
"A bit," Changmin admits, but only because – he pauses, scrunches his face up – "I think the show, Moonlight Prince, I think it's ruining my reputation."
A pause until his meaning sinks in, and then Yunho is shaking against him in laughter. Changmin-ah," he says, "Changdola – what reputation? You've always been known for speaking like that, always."
"Did not! Remember my cute image! My adorable wide-eyed maknae, pure and innocent image! All ruined!" He sighs dramatically, breath puffing against Yunho's neck and making him squirm. "I suppose it had to grow up sooner or later."
Without missing a bit, Yunho points out, "That time you confessed to watching porn in front of a national television audience," he pauses for dramatic effect, he adds, "and your mother."
Changmin stiffens against him. "Low blow, Jung Yunho!" he hisses against the still of the night. "No, no more cuddles for you, go sleep over there, no, shoo, Yunho!"
Yunho snorts then, too loud, as he wrestles a squirming, breathless laughing Changmin back into his arms.
At the very least, their flight correctly takes them back to Seoul, and in the first class luxury that they are used to, and that they need because of their careers. This plane is filled half with Koreans returning home after all. While they hadn't run into anything on the hugeness of the entire island, chances here are much higher.
At the back of the plane, hand luggage hoisted out of the way or tucked under the front seat, Changmin leans back with a contented sigh. He feels full, satisfied. They've never been afforded long, never so many days in sequence, but this time he's made full use of it for sure. upon alighting, he still has time to visit his family even, Skype with his sisters. No wait he moved out already.
In Seoul different cars will be waiting to pick them up, whisk them off to separate locations. Changmin has time to return home, spend dinner with his family before he is due to return to headquarters to finalise the ad libs for the last two songs in their new album, always last minute and rushing. Yunho, not as lucky, will sleep off his jet lag, and head straight to filming for his drama.
Changmin slumps against him on the flight back, buried in a book. He puts it down only for airplane food, and then he has to glare at the pasty white chicken chunks and splotchy, lumpy sauce.
He looks up, mouth smeared with sauce, to find Yunho staring at him, fond. Yunho chuckles a bit, reach out to wipe the sauce from his mouth with a thumb, but Changmin jerks back and ah, right. Vacation is over. They're heading back to South Korea, may as well get rid of whatever dangerous, affectionate habit they may have acquired now.
They've not many activities together, and now they live separately. Changmin hums under his breath, presses his plastic fork to his lip, deep in thought. "Concert," he says, as he has said many times before, because there is only that left. "We'll see each other to prepare for that for sure. The set list is still a mess."
A knee knocks into his. "I'll see you on your birthday," Yunho promises, "like how we met for mine. No haircuts this time, we'll have the whole half day to ourselves."
"Filming," Changmin says absently, trying to recall his schedule without the help of his manager. "Then drinks with Kyuline but! After that, I promise."
The blanket is draped over the both of them. Changmin reaches up to turn his lights off, and then he squirms his hand beneath the blanket, and gropes around in search of Yunho's hand.
"I saw a porno like this once,” Yunho whispers, ”but I really don't think it'd be a good idea if we –"
"I'm looking for something else!" Changmin hisses back, dark red flush staining his cheeks. Finally he finds his goal and grabs it, twines their bony fingers together for extra ammunition and then squeezes as hard as he can. Their bones crush and shift against each other. Yunho winces, and then it melts into a silent shake of giggles.
"Weirdo," Changmin tells him. It's dark enough that his half smile is hidden.