Archive of Our Own ^beta

Crickets buzz in the distance beyond what is visible from the fogged up window, the bite of chill breathing droplets of condensation onto the glass.

The air in the practice room is stale with the stench of dancer sweat and the faint scent of post-practice exhaustion. It hits the Lucky Macho Team full force, the quiet whispering among the production team fading like white noise.

The boys lay sprawled on the streaked dance floors, trying to catch their breath. 

They’re used to it by now— the late practice hours that eat into their barely existent sleeping schedules. Scarfed down meals to wrench out extra time for practice. The sprint of chasing the opportunity to secure a seat in the prestigious top eight.

“Ugh, you know what really helps when my muscles feel like jelly after practice?” Hanwen flops over on his belly like a starfish. “A good massage.”

Donggyu lets out a laugh. “Are you requesting one?”

“Meki hyungg~” 

The whine in Hanwen’s tone comes out so naturally that it makes the hair on Xinlong’s arm stand. Hanwen is good at aegyo. Really, really good. He could never. 

Yumeki, being the ever-doting older brother figure he is, complies with nothing but a snort of disbelief. He shakes his head and gestures for Hanwen to lie down properly, before pressing his fingers into Hanwen’s sore shoulders. The caramel haired boy instantly lets out a sigh of relief.

The massage disease is contagious, because when Xinlong turns around, Junil is already in lotus position with Donggyu hovering over him. The only ones uninvolved in their antics are Xinlong and Junmin. Junmin whips his head around, looking expectant.

Is he aware that his eyes are sparkling? 

“I… I could give you a massage,” Xinlong offers, clearing his throat. “If you want.”

“Yea.” Junmin blinks. “Yes. I would like that.”

He finds himself positioned behind Junmin as the other boy copies Junil’s stance, his legs crossed in front of him. Xinlong has always known that Junmin has a good physique, if the defined six pack that flashed him through the mirror from time to time during practice suggested anything. Now that he’s seeing it up close, Junmin’s shoulders are unrealistically broad and angular, toned muscles wrapping around his sturdy frame in a way that should be considered criminal.

Xinlong swallows, cupping his hands over the blades of Junmin’s shoulders to snap himself out of it. He begins by applying a light pressure using his thumbs, attempting to gently roll out the tension in Junmin’s stiff muscles. When the other boy relaxes into his touch, eyes fluttering closed and mouth parting into a quiet sigh, Xinlong’s chest fills with the warmth of inexplicable pride that he managed to ease the furrow between his teammate’s brows. Even if it’s just for a little bit.

Only after a while, he realises that Junmin’s facial expressions don’t match what he’s doing at all.

Xinlong has never been good at massages. Amongst the myriad of other things he’s not confident in, using his hands has never been his strong suit. According to Zihao, Xinlong massages like he holds a personal grudge against certain people; namely him. The amount of brute force he uses could easily break a bone. Whenever Zihao says something, everyone takes it with a pinch of salt because he has a tendency to overly dramatize for theatrical purposes, but this is something everyone agrees on.

Meanwhile, Junmin is doing a stank face in the mirror, like Xinlong’s fingers are working some kind of magic.

“Junmin hyung.”

“Hm?” The other boy hums, his face scrunched up like a towel being wrung out.

“You don’t have to pretend to like it.” And he means it. “I won’t get mad.”

Junmin’s eyes shoot open and he almost comically stumbles over his words to get a sentence out. A extracts a rumble of laughter from Xinlong.

“No! I mean— you’re good at this. I just, tend to do that face when something feels really good.” 

Xinlong raises an eyebrow. “Your face was literally turning red. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve guessed that you were constipated.”

“Let’s switch.” The tips of Junmin’s ears burn like wildfire. His cheeks feel hot as he reluctantly pulls himself away from Xinlong’s touch. Xinlong giggles again and his heartbeat quickens.

Truth be told, Junmin has been trying hard not to make it obvious that Xinlong touching him like that makes him feel nervous. Dressed in a loose practice shirt, Xinlong is oozing with boyish charm, the endearing curve at the corners of his mouth even when his face is resting is difficult to tear his eyes from. 

From the moment the C trainees had stepped into the same room as the K trainees, Junmin had always found himself drawn to a boy who felt almost familiar to him. It was like looking into a mirror—  a boy who appeared fierce on stage, wearing diligence like a badge of honor. 

Knowing about Xinlong had been a revelation. The more he learnt about him, the more he liked him. Xinlong is incredibly humble for someone who has been in the industry longer than most. He keeps the sensitive edge of his personality and uses it to care for others instead of labelling it as a weakness. When Junmin found out firsthand that Xinlong hid a surprisingly adorable side to himself off camera, it didn’t deter him, but instead hooked him in deeper.

Before he knew it, Junmin was already six feet down a rabbit hole he couldn’t possibly escape from.

He jots down another mental note in his Xinlong Facts Archive to think about before going to bed. Xinlong’s hands are smaller than expected. So cute. Is that why his massages felt a bit awkward? It’s almost like he was struggling to stretch his thumbs to the middle of Junmin’s back. 

Xinlong tenses when Junmin splays a hand flat across the small of his back. The warmth of his palm radiates through.

“Do you want to lie down?”

Junmin’s breath hitting the back of his ears as he asks the question in the most innocent way possible sparks a flame that burns the tips of Xinlong’s ears red. He nibbles on his bottom lip and complies, not trusting himself to verbally consent his willingness without saying something that would make things awkward. He lies down on his belly, stretching his legs out behind him and rests his chin between his folded arms.

When Junmin’s fingers find the base of his neck, the tension in Xinlong’s entire frame goes limp. Junmin wraps a hand around the back of his neck, strong fingers massaging little circles into the tendon the same way he would use to soothe a small animal. Seeing Xinlong melt like this, completely pliant in his grip like a scruffed kitten makes his stomach do a weird flip. 

Speaking of which, he heard Xinlong’s representative emoji is primarily a dragon and a cat. Personally, in Junmin’s opinion, both the dragon and cat suit Xinlong well. On stage, Xinlong is most definitely a dragon, a performance beast dominating the stage like he’s seen during the class takeover mission, but Junmin secretly prefers the cat which Xinlong embodies as soon as he steps off the stage. 

More specifically, he likes that this side of Xinlong— soft, warm and unguarded, is reserved for him and a select few to see.

Xinlong’s lips part to let out a content little sigh. The small noise tugs at Junmin’s heartstrings, unbearably so, till the point that all he wants to do is pick up the other boy, smother him in love and fully unleash his currently suppressed cuteness aggression upon him.

A low rumble startles Junmin out of his thoughts, his fingers freezing in their tracks. 

What was that?

Frozen, Junmin reaches back down to gently stroke the back of the younger boy’s nape again, unsure if he heard that correctly. There it is. The same, low-bellied rumble that feels like it's vibrating underneath Xinlong’s skin. It almost sounds like…

‘He’s purring,’ Junmin realizes with a beat, wind knocked out of his lungs.

He Xinlong is purring, like an actual cat. Junmin wants to throw himself out of the practice room window. This is dangerous. He wants to see more. Does Xinlong rub his face on people he trusts? Does he like yarn balls? Junmin heard that he’s scared of water. Typical cat behavior, he thinks.

“Hyung.” “Hm?” Junmin hums. “Junmin hyung.”

It takes Junmin a while to realise everyone else has gotten up and is already getting into position for the next few hours of practice. Only Xinlong is pinned to the ground with Junmin’s hand still drawing circles into his skin. 

The one speaking is Xinlong, his eyes bleary but open. Junmin is a bit disappointed that he isn’t purring anymore, but he unhands Xinlong anyway. Albeit unreluctantly.

“Sorry,” he blurts out.

“It's okay.” Xinlong flashes him a thumbs up, his hair mussed from lying on the floor. “You’re really good at massages hyung. It was really relaxing.”

“Well, if you ever need a massage again, you know who to come to,” Junmin spreads out his hands jokingly. He means every word though.

Xinlong nods with a laugh, grinning with the corners of his lips turned up. He turns to face the mirror as Yumeki runs through the choreography for the chorus in 0.5 speed again to make sure they catch every detail. Junmin is left to fight the smile that involuntarily raises his cheekbones. 

Of course, Xinlong doesn’t notice, but Donggyu does and he makes Junmin aware of this with a sharp nudge of his elbow into his rib bones.

“Quit ogling, lover boy,” Donggyu teases and Junmin flushes red, clutching his side, stuttering as he tries to defend himself.