Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a pleasant day out when Dokja decided to water his garden.

The sun was shining, gentle rays within reach filtering through some light cloud cover. A soft breeze passed by, dancing around Dokja's figure, rustling his hair just so.

Dokja hummed as he uncoiled the hose from the reel, and skipped over to the side of the house to turn the water on in a laid-back rhythm. He worked his way around the garden, starting with the flower bushes on the side of the house and the random plants that had been there before he moved in. He’d decided that the risk of removing them wasn’t worth it.

As he reached the front of the garden, where his produce beds were located, Dokja noticed a man walking down the street, on his way to pass his house. That’s strange, Dokja mused. Nobody really walks down this street. He tried getting a closer look, only noticing the stranger’s tall, muscular stature. He wasn’t much taller than himself, Dokja figured, but no doubt bulkier.

The stranger neared closer, and Dokja forgot about his presence as he turned the hose setting to mist.

Except, he skipped over it entirely and the setting landed on “center,” which soaked the stranger before Dokja was able to react.

Screw the shining sun and the nice cloud cover and the pleasant breeze passing by every so often. Never mind the enjoyable weather, he had to deal with a very (handsome) angry stranger who was soaking wet and Dokja was definitely not staring at the contour of the stranger’s muscular torso through the soaked shirt. It was after a few minutes of staring that he remembered to switch off the hose. (Which was still soaking the stranger.)

“Shit, I’m soososososo sorry,” Dokja said, while bowing profusely to the man while he was still on the inside of the fence, “ah, why don't you come in so I can take care of that mess.”

It's all the hose's fault. I wasn't doing anything, and then it decided to rebel against me and put me in this unfortunate situation, Dokja thought, crafting a story with victim mentality so he could tell it to his best friend Han Sooyoung later.

The stranger glared at him with an intense gaze. Piercing deep brown, almost black, eyes stared him down with thick, furrowed eyebrows, mouth folded into a thin line.

A few moments passed.

“Are you going to unlock the gate?” the stranger asked, his voice smooth with a slight edge to it.

Damn, even his voice was sexy.

A flustered Dokja apologized once more and let the stranger in the gate, ushering him inside after turning off the water for the hose.

“Um, welcome to my lovely but humble abode. As you can see, my garden is beautiful because I take care of it. I’m Kim Dokja, by the way,” he introduced himself as he walked to the hall closet to find some towels.

“Kim Dokja,” the stranger tested. Dokja shivered at the way his name sounded on his tongue, pulling out a stack of towels that the stranger could use to dry himself.

“Yes?” he responded, not knowing what to say as he handed the towels to the stranger and gestured to the bathroom door.

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” was all the stranger said before disappearing into the bathroom.

He shuffled his feet in discomfort outside of the bathroom door, and Dokja decided he could prepare a few refreshing drinks for the two of them while he waited. So the stranger’s name was Yoo Joonghyuk—a nice name, fitting for the nice face and body that he had.

Dokja's mind wandered as he stirred the lemonade, the ice getting caught in a mini whirlpool of chaos. He pondered the amount of time it took for one to dry themselves after getting soaked by a garden hose. Just when it seemed like Yoo Joonghyuk was taking a little too long in the bathroom, he emerged from the hallway with his wrenched-out clothes and a towel draped around his waist. Dokja, who was sipping on his lemonade, promptly choked, suffering in silence as he grappled with the drink in his throat.

“Where should I put my clothes?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Back on,” Dokja deadpanned, then after he was given an unamused look, said quickly, "I'll put them in the dryer for you. No need to worry, Joonghyuk-ssi."

“The shirt is hang dry. It’ll shrink in the dryer.”

Well, great. His pants and boxers would be done in ten minutes at most, but Dokja would have a handsome stranger lounging around his house shirtless until it was done. He did not have the mental capacity to restrain himself and his curiosity about how Joonghyuk had even gotten a body that good. (And a little bit about how the muscles felt, but that's besides the point.)

After putting Joonghyuk’s pants and boxers in the dryer, Dokja headed towards the bedroom, mentally going through his wardrobe to see if anything came up in his mind that could fit his guest. Having nothing else to do, Joonghyuk followed Dokja to his bedroom, footsteps padding on the creaky wooden floors.

“Yah, why are you following me? Rude bastard, wait outside,” Dokja scolded, his hand raising on instinct to whack Joonghyuk, disregarding the fact that they just met. Unfortunately (or not unfortunately), his hand just so happened to land on one of Joonghyuk’s muscular pecs (and stayed there), earning him a raised eyebrow paired with the same stoic expression.

Oh. It’s nice and firm, Dokja thought, as he squeezed. His pride had left him long ago, and whatever was left of his shame floated out the door with it.

“Like what you see?” Yoo Joonghyuk questioned, the timbre of his voice reaching Dokja’s hand, which recoiled quickly as soon as he felt it.

Dokja flushed, turning away to his wardrobe, opening the drawers, choosing not to answer.

As he rummaged through his drawers, he could feel Joonghyuk's gaze on him. What's with him? Dokja thought, feeling heat creep up his neck once again. The possibility that he was interested in Dokja in some way despite just meeting was unnerving. But, he figured, it was too far-fetched so he decided not to fry his brain analyzing the situation. Dokja's eyes settled on a plain black shirt, which looked big enough to fit Joonghyuk.

"Here, try this," Dokja tossed the shirt at Joonghyuk, who caught it with ease. As he put the shirt on, Dokja tried not to think about the lack of clothes in the former's nether regions despite having given him a towel.

"Thank you," he said, examining how the sleeves were baggy enough but not too tight on his arms.

Trying not to gape at how well the shirt fit his muscular stature, Dokja moved onto the subject of refreshments. “I prepared lemonade for us, but if you want food there’s snacks in the pantry or I can make something if you need me to.”

At the thought of Dokja preparing food for him, Joonghyuk wrinkled his nose. “Sorry, I don’t eat food made by other people. If you have ingredients I would rather make something myself.”

How rude, Dokja thought, stupid protagonist bastard—couldn’t you at least phrase it more nicely? He couldn’t deny that he was curious about the quality of Joonghyuk’s cooking, though, as they headed back into the kitchen and returned to drink the lemonade.

Of course Dokja’s stomach had to growl right then and there at the mention of food. It was such a good day, he lamented, as he tried squeezing his stomach to stop the rumbling. Joonghyuk arched an eyebrow, a mixture between annoyance and amusement towards the shorter man.

“…Guess I’m cooking something,” Dokja drawled as he heaved himself towards the pantry to find a cup of microwavable instant ramen. “Do you want anything?”

A moment of yet another silence lapsed over the two men, and just as Dokja thought Joonghyuk hadn’t heard what he said, he spoke up after contemplating something in deep thought.

“I can make something. I was getting hungry anyway, so you might as well save yourself the trouble.”

Fighting back something in between a half-embarrassed grin and a beaming smile of gratitude, Dokja couldn’t help but forget about honorifics. “Joonghyuk-ah, so kind and benevolent of you to cook something for us.”

Us. It was such a simple word, but seeing that Dokja had referred to them both as a team, it felt like they hadn’t been strangers before meeting after all. The beeping from the dryer signaling that it was finished snapped him out of his reverie, and he hurried to fetch the clothes after mumbling to Joonghyuk that his clothes were dry.

When he came back, he saw that Joonghyuk had busied himself with trying to find the right dishes and utensils to cook.

“Kim Dokja.” Joonghyuk turned around, looking at him as if he was insane, “Do you not have any decent cooking supplies?”

Dokja offered him a sheepish grin, shrugging while he did so.

“By the way, here are your clothes. Sorry about the wait, the towel must’ve been uncomfortable,” Dokja said as his eyes flitted downwards.

Joonghyuk cleared his throat, the tips of his ears a slight pinkish color, extending his arm to grab his clothes. As they made the exchange, their fingers brushed against one another, Dokja’s surprisingly soft ones against Joonghyuk’s more rough and calloused fingers. Dokja averted his eyes, blush evident on his face at his indecency from looking at a certain spot.

“I’ll turn around, okay? Jeez, I’m not a pervert!” Dokja yelped in defense—he didn’t even know why he felt the need to—as he shuffled away from Joonghyuk to give him space as he got dressed.

Said man found this endearing as he pulled his clothes on, noticing how Dokja drummed his fingers on the table in a futile attempt to make it seem like he wasn’t nervous, even when his ears and the back of his neck were flushed the color of a Jigglypuff, despite being subtle. After changing, Joonghyuk decided to tease Dokja, sneaking up on him and stopping just behind the poor, oblivious guy.

“I’m done, you can turn around now,” he murmured as he placed one hand on the counter in front of Dokja, hoping it was obvious that he was right behind the man.

Dokja squeaked in surprise as he turned around to face Joonghyuk, his embarrassment still evident from before.

He squeaked.

At that moment, despite shamelessly having groped Joonghyuk’s muscles (in Dokja’s defense, they just happened to be there), he wanted to crawl in a hole and die. But he had no time for that, as he was pinned to the side of the counter, facing a man who was exactly his type who was wearing of his shirts that looked like a compression shirt on him and his voice was sexy as hell and this information was all too much for Dokja to process, so he ended up just thumping his head against Joonghyuk's chest, wrapping his arms around his waist.

I really needed this hug, Dokja thought as he sighed, and snuggled closer. Being in solitude for so many years had deprived him of the love he needed through touch—even if he did have friends like Han Sooyoung, they lived far enough away that they weren’t able to see each other in person often.

Not knowing what to do, Joonghyuk reciprocated it, pulling Dokja a bit closer to him, stroking his back with feathery light touches. He’s so small. He needs to eat more, Joonghyuk thought. The latter had gotten quiet for someone so snarky and talkative, and Joonghyuk realized that he had fallen asleep. He smiled and gave a soft chuckle, not wanting to wake the sleeping man, as he hoisted him up into his arms, bridal-style. This fool. He should be more careful around strangers.

Chapter Text

Dokja blinked. The first thing he noticed was that there was a tantalizing smell in the air—no doubt some some sort of soup. The next things he noticed was that he was on his couch, and a blanket was wrapped around him, allowing for optimal comfort without it getting too stuffy or too cold. He processed the last few hours, how he met Yoo Joonghyuk—handsome bastard—and fell asleep while hugging him, without even asking if it was okay to hug him. Face on fire, Dokja shot straight up, his head pounding from the abrupt action. He gripped the blanket, his current lifeline in anchoring himself to reality.

After he calmed himself down, he willed himself out of the blanket’s warmth, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his feet.

“You’re up?” Joonghyuk hummed, “Soup’s ready. I salvaged what was left of the vegetables in the fridge.”

Rubbing his eyes, Dokja felt like he was the guest, rather than Joonghyuk. It felt a bit…domestic, but he wasn’t complaining. He murmured a thank you as he took his first few bites of the soup. To wake up every day to this cooking, courtesy of a drop-dead gorgeous looking man, Dokja considered just kidnapping him. He waved away the thought, earning a concerned look from Joonghyuk.

“Is it not to your liking?” he probed, scrutinizing Dokja’s face for any hint of what might be wrong.

“Oh no, just thinking. The soup is the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.” He gave a sad smile, eyes distant. He waved his hand again. “Never mind that, thanks again for making this. It’s probably less than ideal, given you’re my guest.”

Joonghyuk laughed at that, breaking his stoic character, surprising Dokja.

“I already told you not to worry about it.”

Just when this man couldn’t seem to get any sexier.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Somehow, the two of them ended up watching a movie.

Joonghyuk had been the one to recommend it, as he didn’t have anything to do later that day, and if his shirt took too long to dry he was available to stay the night (not that it was likely, he said, but if Dokja wanted him to stay he said he could, cheeky bastard). The movie they picked was one of the top trending, so both didn’t really know anything about the plot.

…Yeah. So it turns out that the movie was, contrary to popular thought, a horrible romance movie, with too much sap and too many cliches, which Dokja felt he was obliged to criticize.

“How could this even be on top trending? It deserves to be on bottom trending, where no one can even touch it or know it exists,” he fumed, huffing as the credits rolled.

He proceeded to recount the movie from start to finish, pointing out what was wrong with every part of the plot—taking it with the seriousness he would with analyzing his favorite webnovels. Little did he know, Joonghyuk’s eyes were on him all the while, gazing at him with a hint of admiration and borderline fondness as he listened to Dokja’s rambling. He found it comforting to listen to the smaller man’s voice, rather than having to talk himself, as he was a man of few words.

Halfway through his rant, Dokja realized he had been talking, daresay yapping, to Yoo Joonghyuk for who knows how long. Stopping himself, he apologized for going on for so long.

The corners of Joonghyuk’s lips quirked up, Dokja wondered if he was imagining it.

“Go on, I don’t mind.”

And so Dokja continued, analyzing the kiss scene in more detail than the rest.

“Where was THE TENSION! THERE WAS NO TENSION! I mean, we were introduced to the characters and then this dude had the audacity to kiss a girl he never met!” He practically shouted, then taking a deep breath to calm himself before he rambled on further, “Okay, well maybe there was like 1% tension, but it moved WAY TOO QUICKLY!”

By the time Dokja finished his meticulous movie review, it was late sunset. Joonghyuk nodded his head in approval, as if he was listening to every word that Dokja said. (He did, Dokja just didn’t want to believe it.)

At this point, Dokja realized that Joonghyuk seemed closer than before—when had he crept this close? He then became hyperaware of their proximity, how Joonghyuk’s arm had snaked around his shoulder, how their knees were touching, and how Joonghyuk was looking at him with an emotion he couldn't name. Touch was one of his less favored love languages, but he found himself inching closer to Joonghyuk, a kind of nonverbal approval.

Joonghyuk hummed, leaning down towards Dokja, ever-so-slightly, “There’s 200% more tension between us than the characters in the movie…how do you think we resolved it with a kiss?”

Dokja’s eyes widened, a blush blooming deeper than before, as red as a rose. His breath hitched. He swallowed. Braced himself. “Yes,” he barely whispered, and leaned in to close the gap between them, not bothering to comment on the cheesiness of the pick-up line.

When their lips met, he noticed was how soft Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips were. (Seriously, what stuff did this guy use to make himself the epitome of perfect?)

The kiss was slow at first, cautious, almost tentative. Dokja opened his mouth further to allow Joonghyuk entrance if he desired—and he obliged. At this point, Dokja was pinned to the couch by Joonghyuk’s knees on either side, the man towering over him, cradling his head in one hand and his jaw in the other as the kiss deepened. Panting and gasping for air, Dokja tugged at Joonghyuk’s shirt, and they broke apart, gazing at each other with hazy eyes.

“Joonghyuk,” Dokja breathed.

He perked up at the mention, but looked slightly disappointed—maybe Dokja was imagining it?

“Dokja-ya.” Joonghyuk responded, tapping his head against Dokja’s shoulder, letting himself relax on top of him.

At the use of endearment and the sudden human blanket on top of him, a flushed Dokja inevitably flushed further, combined with an “oof” and then with a firmness but no bite: “Hyuk-ah, you’re so heavy, get off.”

“No,” the bastard answered, snuggling even closer, ears turning red from Dokja’s use of that nickname.

“I have to take a shower. It’s getting close to my bedtime.”

Joonghyuk grumbled before climbing off, running a hand through his ruffled hair. Why does he look good even when disheveled? Dokja pondered, as he brushed imaginary dust off of himself to smooth his clothes.

“I’ll be right back,” Dokja called down the hallway as he headed to his bedroom to retrieve his night clothes.

— • — • —

What. Was. That??? Dokja internally cringed at himself and what had happened as the shower water ran, soap pooling at his feet. He’s sure Han Sooyoung would tell him to take this as an opportunity to start his love life—as she would say, “Make your debut!” with a saccharine-sweet smile. Borderline mockery, and he rolls his eyes at the thought. Her love life’s not much better, either. Well, she did mention a sweet girl but who is he to know about her? He lives miles away from Sooyoung now, after finding a stable at-home job to support his gardening hobby.

Frustrated, he scrubbed shampoo into his scalp with vigor, and finished up just as quickly.

He grabbed his towel and draped it around his neck to catch any water dripping from his hair. Dokja never bothered drying it—what was the point, when he never really went out, anyway? He didn’t even have a hair dryer, since he found no need for one.

He steeled himself as he walked out of the bathroom, taking a deep breath before announcing he was finished.

“Joonghyuk-ah,” he called, “you can take a shower if you haven’t already. The water’s warm.”

“I took one after you soaked me. But I’ll take one again since it’s been a while,” he responded, walking towards the sound of Dokja’s voice. As he came into view, his face scrunched, “I hate to ask you this, but do you have any other clothes I could borrow? Re-wearing the same ones is unhygenic.”

“Yes, of course! Ummm, lemme see what I have.”

The two plodded back down the hallway to Dokja’s bedroom, where he opened his dresser once again, as well as his closet to see if anything could fit the other man. Dokja managed to find some boxers and oversized shorts he got from Han Sooyoung as a joke, her commentary on how thin he was—but they were Joonghyuk’s exact size. He nodded his approval, and sent Joonghyuk to go wash up. Dokja returned to the kitchen to see if there was anything to clean up, but everything was in place, and he might even say it was cleaner than before. He shrugged it off, returning to the bedroom to continue reading the current webnovel he was on. When it finally hit him, his walking slowed.

Ohmygodheswearingmyclothes.

Internal screaming ensued, followed by Dokja wrapping himself up into a burrito on his bed. He then heard footsteps approaching, so he undid his burrito and fluffed up his blanket with haste.

“Yah, why are you shirtless again?” he asked as soon as he saw Joonghyuk.

“Kim Dokja,” he said, “where am I sleeping?”

“Right here,” Dokja patted the bed beside him. “It’s okay, really, I don’t mind,” he said with a yawn, shifting the blankets and setting down the extra pillows for him. Joonghyuk gave a satisfied “hmph,” but then frowned upon seeing how Dokja’s hair was still damp. Wordlessly, he took the towel Dokja had draped on the chair, gesturing for him to move in front of him.

Dokja understood, but took his seat in front of Joonghyuk with reluctance—not because he disliked the man, but because he’d hoped the bastard didn’t notice and wouldn’t do anything about it.

“You need to take better care of yourself, you’ll get sick,” he doted, lips ghosting the shell of Dokja’s ear before plopping the towel on his head. Dokja squeaked. Again.

Joonghyuk worked in silence, massaging his scalp, with the occasional hum of satisfaction at his work.

When he was done, he ruffled Dokja’s hair, hanging the towel to dry in Dokja’s personal bathroom (that he didn’t use often, but still kept handy for convenience).

He’s so considerate, Dokja fanboyed, running his hands through his hair to smooth it.

“Better, now we can go to sleep,” Joonghyuk said, kissing Dokja on the forehead as he fluffed the sheets up to tuck themselves in. Dokja gave a sigh of contentment, burrowing himself under the covers and making himself comfortable. He still kept a bit of distance from the other, not sure if it was okay to cuddle. He noticed Joonghyuk was like this as well, as he was turned away with his back facing Dokja, so he decided, fuck it, and clung onto his companion, hugging him like a baby panda would to its mother with one hand under the pillow for comfort.

Joonghyuk tensed at first, then relaxed, grasping Dokja’s hand in his, and they fell into a deep slumber in each others’ company.

✩₊°.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Gentle sunlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating light onto two entangled, sleeping men.

Overnight, Joonghyuk had become the big spoon, and he held Dokja in his arms like he was going to do so for eternity.

Dokja blinked the light out of his eyes, sleep still gracing his vision. He could feel something pressing against his back. Even though it was a normal male bodily function, he still found himself blushing at the thought of Joonghyuk’s size. He tried to disregard that fact and save it for another time, and rather focus on the fact that his head was buried between his favorite muscular chest.

Meanwhile, Joonghyuk was dreaming about the fact that Dokja fit perfectly in his hands, and everything between them just clicked like a puzzle putting itself together.

Somehow, in the span of less than a day, Yoo Joonghyuk had taken a liking to this bold man, finding it endearing how effortlessly he was able to capture his heart.

Somehow, in the span of less than a day, Kim Dokja had gained a love interest, a start to his dead love life and new beginnings.

Maybe it was okay that he had ended up soaking this stranger with his hose by accident. Maybe it was okay that Dokja had found Joonghyuk, and they had grown so close in such a short amount of time. Maybe it was okay that Dokja didn’t know what the future might bring.

Humming in bliss, his eyes fluttered shut as he fell back asleep in his lover’s(?) arms.

Bonus:
“Yah, you squid, what’s up?” Han Sooyoung’s voice could be heard over the phone, but it sounded oddly quiet. Maybe she had been talking to someone earlier?

Blushing, Dokja explained what had happened with Joonghyuk—omitting the kissing part, of course, until she asked, “You guys kiss?”

She took his silence as a yes, to which she started laughing like a hyena. “Wow, you’re actually getting somewhere! Good for you, but I still win! Oh, and what did you say his name was again?”

“What do you mean you still win?! This was never a competition, otherwise it’d be unfair! By the way his name is Yoo Joonghyuk. We’re still in touch.”

“AHAHAHAHHAH so that sunfish bastard DID decide to do it, after all. It just turned out different than planned.” Sooyoung laughed again, promptly hanging up.

One word floated through Dokja’s mind like a sad, deflated balloon.

What.