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Chenle only goes to the gym for two reasons: 1. To impress Ningning. 2. To get rid of Jaemin, who's clearly also into her.
The plan is simple: flirt with Jaemin until he gives up on Ningning.
What he doesn't expect is for the plan to work a little too well.
Jaemin doesn’t hate Chenle. He doesn’t think about him enough to hate him. He barely knows the other man, only having been introduced through Jisung and then Jeno when they’d all somehow decided to be best friends, and he’s perfectly fine with their limited interactions. Everything about Chenle goes against everything about Jaemin.
(Or: Jaemin learns to let go, and to let Chenle in.)
"Ah, okay, I'll think about it," Chenle says. "You have kind of weird tastes, though, so it might be suitable for the public anyway. I probably won't even have to get undressed."
That's a funny thought. Jaemin packs it away for later. "However you feel comfortable," he says. "I'm sure I'll find something to like."
"Oh, I'm sure," Chenle says, and Jaemin gets the sense that he's raising his eyebrows obnoxiously. In the vision Jaemin is having where Chenle already mostly-naked, his hands are crawling over himself already, needy. He's probably not, but there's always a chance.
"So which one is it? Which half of the old married couple?" Chenle asks, shoving a huge piece of pancake into his mouth.
"Which one is what?" Jaemin says, and sips his coffee.
"Which one are you in love with?" Chenle says, and upon seeing the face Jaemin instinctively makes, dumps more salt on the wound. "Don't give me that look. I know when the person I'm hooking up with is thinking of someone else. It's gotta be one of them. So, Mark or Renjun?"
"Neither," Jaemin finally says, though five years ago the answer would have been different. This coffee is too cold—sharply so—for 8am. "Jeno. Jisung's... boyfriend."
Chenle's eyebrows raise together with another forkful of pancake. "Huh," he says. "Not so predictable, then."
“I don’t know?” He doesn't mean for it to come out as a question. It is one, though. It’s a question he’s been trying to answer ever since he started living with Jaemin, a solution to the insatiable itch under his skin. A pursuit of knowledge for why he wants Jaemin so badly and if it’s a one off thing, or a Jaemin thing, or just a boy thing in general. “I’m up for anything.”
Jaemin’s eyes roll in exasperation. “This isn’t funny.”
“No it’s not.” Chenle steps closer, Jaemin’s breath hitting his face in short puffs. His hands slide up to Jaemin’s shoulders, down to his collarbones and the moist hem of his workout top. Jaemin’s hands come up to hold Chenle’s elbows tentatively. “Can I try something?”
“It doesn’t have to be that perfect,” video Chenle says, voice more subdued than his usual sunny camera disposition. “Really, none of these date night foods have to be perfect. The care you put into your cooking is what makes the final dish taste good. My boyfriend has better knife skills than me anyway.” He says the last part with a laugh.
There’s a few extra seconds of Chenle explaining the kimchi soup base, but Jaemin can’t help replaying the “my boyfriend has better knife skills than me” part. It’s innocuous, yet it makes his heart skip a beat.
Then, Jaemin exits full screen and gets an eyeful of the caption.
𝒃𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊 @913haechansun
guys this is definitely about donghyuck
(Or, five times Jaemin may or may not be Chenle’s boyfriend.)
“It’s not like I want to be mean to teenagers,” Jaemin says into his fresh cup. “But Zhong Chenle has no backbone. The kid runs that entire operation. I have to yell at both of them to get either of them to realize the gravity of the issue.”
“I’m sure Chenle knows that,” Jeno reassures him. “Didn’t you say you guys were friends in high school? You were so sweet back then.”
Donghyuck laughs. “Friends? As if he could string two words together in front of Chenle until last year.”
or_
Jaemin let his high school crush talk him into a job. Now he has to deal with the consequences.
And then Jaemin is sliding Chenle’s hands to the sides of his ribcage, just under his armpits, and pushing. Pushing up and in, forcing the flesh together.
“Do you want to fuck my tits, Chenle?”
Chenle holds up his hand. “Oh, no. I’m a top.”
Jaemin stares. “What?”
“I’m a top,” Chenle repeats. “I’m gonna fuck you.”
“I… no,” Jaemin says dumbly. “I was gonna fuck you.”
There was a certain fragility in sharing a drink, a cobweb spun from fishing line. He didn't want to be the first to ask what was happening. And, even though he was in Jaemin's house and drinking Jaemin's liquor, he knew Jaemin wouldn't be the first to say anything.
Chenle would stare at his sleeping form, his broad back and shoulders, and wish he would say something. Anything. But it would never come. Jaemin was the type of person to overshare simplistic details of himself and conceal what truly made him tick.
Or: Jaemin and Chenle start hanging out together outside of work and Chenle doesn't know what it means.
They must be flooding Jaemin's DM requests in droves.
Thirsty men and women hiding behind anonymous icons and burner accounts, all of them hoping against hope that Jaemin will pick them, will respond to their message. Will single one random admirer out in a sea of others and swoop down and take them off the market—or maybe just take them, full stop.
Chenle isn’t one of them.
No, really. He isn’t.