Archive of Our Own

There’s a loud crashing sound in the distance. From his position – crouched against the wall with a gun held steady in one hand and a map of the underground tunnels in the other – San strains his ears in an attempt to hear which direction it came from.

He’ll sooner die than let Jung Wooyoung escape.

The only problem is that Wooyoung, the man whose arrival he’s currently waiting for, is extremely good at evading capture. Hence why San has spent the past two months tracing his every move, all of it leading up to this very moment. While he’s had his fair share of difficult tasks over the course of his employment, this mission definitely takes the cake.

Although, to be fair, he hasn’t been working as a federal agent for that long. He’s actually one of the youngest members of his team, but he’s never let that interfere with him successfully completing every job he’s been assigned to. Every job except ensuring Wooyoung’s arrest, which is hopefully about to change.

San shifts his weight onto his other leg, the uncomfortable position making him wince. He listens again, but the dark tunnels are completely silent aside from the occasional dripping sound. The floor is slightly slimy beneath his feet, and he tries his best to not think about how disgustingly dirty his surroundings are.

Eyes on the prize, he reminds himself. If his information is correct (which it better be, with the amount of time and effort he’s put into this mission), Wooyoung’s been sent here tonight to collect boxes of supplies, most likely illegal drugs. While he’ll almost definitely be armed, he’s also alone, which means that this is San’s chance to finally arrest him. And possibly get the promotion he’s been aiming for.

A drip of something (please let it be clean water) hits the back of San’s neck, and he shudders uncomfortably. It would be fantastic if Wooyoung could hurry the fuck up, because his leg is starting to cramp up from crouching for so long. The underground tunnel is also kinda creepy, and San’s eager to get out of there.

He forces himself to concentrate on the task at hand, mentally going through all the information he currently has: Wooyoung’s definitely younger than forty, but probably at least in his early thirties judging by the number of successful heists he’s pulled off. He’s originally from Ilsan and has somehow managed to erase all traces of his identity while he lived there, which made it even more impossible to find out anything about him. He specialises in theft, usually expensive jewellery or precious metals like solid gold, but also distributes illegal drugs and firearms. He works in cooperation with several gangs and probably has ties to the local branches of the mafia, but isn’t an official member of any organisation.

Even finding out these few details had been nearly impossible, because Wooyoung lived completely anonymously. San had only been able to find out his fucking name through one of his contacts at the federal prison who’d apparently known Wooyoung’s father. The guy had absolutely refused to give him any other information, claiming that he didn’t know anything else about Wooyoung (an obvious lie, but the guy had looked so genuinely terrified that San had decided to not press the matter. For now).

The sound of footsteps jolts San out of his thoughts, as he readies his gun. He’s nearly completely certain Wooyoung will be here. Tonight. In this tunnel.

Now San just needs to time his movements right.

A dark figure appears around the corner, and San immediately knows it’s Wooyoung based on the pattern on his leather jacket that is visible even in the darkness: a goldfinch and a knife. It had taken San at least twelve hours of phone calls to find out that tidbit of information.

He’s smaller than San had imagined, probably around the same size as San himself, and his steps are quiet and light. It’s so dark in the tunnel that San can’t see more than the outline of Wooyoung’s body, his face obscured by shadows.

San stays pressed against the wall, silent and motionless, gun held firmly. His heart hammers in his chest, but he forces himself to focus on the approaching figure. His timing is vital for pulling this off right.

Wooyoung is approaching the spot where San is crouched, unable to see him in the darkness. San holds his breath, body tense.

The dark figure walks directly past him. San doesn’t hesitate, grabs him firmly by the shoulders, gun pointed at his head and other hand gripping Wooyoung’s hands behind his back.

“Don’t move,” he says tightening his grip and pressing the gun further against the others’ head.

“What the fuck.”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-”

“Yeah, I don’t give a shit.” Wooyoung’s voice sounds not at all scared.

San tries to not let himself be taken off-guard by his attitude, but it’s sort of hard to feel like he has the upper hand when San can’t see Wooyoung’s face and is pressed up against him rather awkwardly to hold the gun in place. He needs to pat Wooyoung down and see whether he has any weapons on his person, but it’s difficult to do that when Wooyoung keeps trying to turn his head to face San.

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, can you stop fucking moving, one will be-”

Wooyoung manages to twist around to face San, and San nearly drops his gun out of shock.

Holy shit.

Okay, so he’s kind of super fucking gorgeous. Smooth skin and full lips and pretty eyes surrounded by long eyelashes. That’s totally cool, San can deal with that.

“Fucking hell,” Wooyoung says, “you’re the agent who’s been such a pain in my ass this past month?”

“A pain in- what?”

“You’ve been a real fucking inconvenience, you know that? But, woah, you’re younger than I thought you’d be.”

San blinks. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be.”

Wooyoung grins, strangely unperturbed by the gun San has pointed at his temple or the fact that he’s currently being arrested. He has a pretty smile, all straight teeth and rounding cheeks and mischievously glittering eyes.

Focus.

“How old are you?” Wooyoung asks. “I was born in ‘99.”

So he’s the same age as San. He had not seen that coming. “None of your business.”

“Boring.”

San keeps the gun held against the others’ temple, other pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Wooyoung eyes them in amusement, holding out his wrists in front of himself. San watches him suspiciously, before realising that he needs to follow standard procedure and turning the other around, pressing him chest-down onto the box San had previously been hiding behind. Wooyoung watches him over his shoulder, eyes glinting in amusement.

“When I said you’re a pain in my ass, this is not the way I meant it.”

San freezes for a second, ears heating up and face flushing, before forcing himself to snap out of it and finish clicking the handcuffs in place. It is sort of a compromising position that they’re in, but it’s not like people usually point that out. “You do realise that anything you say right now can be used against you in court?”

Wooyoung snorts. “Yes, sir. But if you keep me pinned down like this any longer, I’ll be forced to draw my own conclusions.”

San hopes it’s too dark to see the blush he can feel on his cheeks. He grabs Wooyoung by the shoulders and stands him up with slightly more force than necessary.

“I’m not armed, by the way, but feel free to check.” Wooyoung says, sitting against the box and watching San with a secretive smile.

San steps closer again, running his hands down the front of Wooyoung’s jacket, then the sides and back. After he concludes that it is indeed all-clear, he turns his attention to the pockets of his jeans. Wooyoung has a box of mints in one pocket, but otherwise they’re empty.

What he’s doing is literally a required procedure, but the way Wooyoung grins at him as he pats down his back pocket and thighs makes San feel like he’s doing something perverted. He doesn’t think his ears can get any more red.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Wooyoung asks innocently.

“You know,” he mutters, hands now safely down by Wooyoung’s ankles.

The other just laughs.

San can’t work out what the hell his deal is. What rational person acts like this while being arrested? And Wooyoung didn’t even lie, he’s really unarmed.

“So, Mr Secret Agent, what exactly made you so determined to catch someone as insignificant as me?”

San stands up, lowering his gun now that he’s assured that Wooyoung doesn’t have any weapons. “I couldn’t tell you that even if I wanted to. Now. You have the right to remain silent-”

“Didn’t you tell me all of this already?”

“-Anything you say can and will-”

“I know it off by heart, you can cut the crap,”

“-Be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney-”

“Jesus Christ,”

“-One will be provided for you. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Wooyoung says. He peers at San. “Hold on, you’re older than me, right?”

San sighs. “I was born in ‘99, too.” There’s really no harm that Wooyoung could do from finding that out, and maybe it’ll shut him up for a few minutes.

Wooyoung looks delighted. “Wow, you’re really young considering your position. What is it you work as again, exactly?”

“Nice try, but you’re not gonna find that out from me.”

“And how did you know that I’d be here tonight? Also, what’s your name?” Wooyoung continues, unbothered.

“You have the right to remain-”

“Silent, yeah, I got it.”

“In that case, I’d advise you to, you know, shut the fuck up.” San says.

Wooyoung frowns, eyebrows crinkling. San hates that he thinks it’s kind of cute. “Can you at least tell me where you’re taking me?”

San exhales a laugh, realising that he should have probably escorted Wooyoung out of the tunnel as soon as he’d finished patting him down. He isn’t quite sure why he’s just been standing there like an idiot.

The floor is still slick under his feet, but he’s able to easily haul Wooyoung by his leather jacket and guide him through the darkness towards the exit.

“I’m taking you to the office, where I can write you up. Or did you mean your final destination? Because you’re fucking going to jail.”

Wooyoung is quiet for a moment. San glances at him, watching the way he nibbles his bottom lip thoughtfully. Wooyoung comes to a stop suddenly. San warily places his hand over his gun.

“My nose itches,” Wooyoung says.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Can you scratch it for me, please?”

“No.”

“I’m not joking. It itches really bad. I can’t continue walking like this.”

San gives an exasperated exhale, then steps up to Wooyoung and lifts his hand. He pauses unsurely for a moment, then gently rubs his finger along the soft skin of Wooyoung’s nose.

“This is so fucking ridiculous,” he says to break the silence.

Wooyoung doesn’t reply, eyes locked with San’s. His gaze slides down San’s face, as though committing all the details to memory, deliberately lingering on his lips. San’s chest feels tight.

“Thank you,” Wooyoung says.

San lets his hand drop. They’re still standing face-to-face.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he continues, “you seem like a nice guy, I just don’t wanna go to jail-”

“What are you-”

“Please don’t shoot me,”

“What?”

Before San has time to even reach for his gun, he flies forward with the impact of something crashing into the back of his head. He registers the sharp thud of pain before darkness envelopes him.

San wakes up lying on the disgusting floor of the tunnel, face pressed against the slimy floor and with a brain-numbing headache. He blinks, disoriented, wincing as he reaches up to touch the bump on the back of his head, just above his neck. The damp smell of the tunnel which had been bearable before is now making him want to throw up.

Then he remembers what happened before he’d been knocked unconscious, and he wants to throw up even more.

He can’t believe Wooyoung had fucking been able to escape. San had been absolutely certain that he’d finally gotten him, and now he’s back to square one.

He stands up on shaky legs and wipes some of the muck off his face with his sleeve, careful not to make any sudden movements because he feels ready to keel over a second time.

“Fuck that guy. Honestly, fuck him.” He mutters to himself.

It’s obvious that there had been a second person who’d knocked San out, and Wooyoung had probably known that someone was coming to rescue him. No wonder he’d been so relaxed the entire time.

And San had been so fucking distracted by Wooyoung’s pretty face and teasing words and mischievous smiles that he’d been completely oblivious. Wooyoung probably thinks he’s an idiot.

‘You seem like a nice guy,’ was what he’d said, which definitely meant that he really had thought that San’s a dumbass. Why else would you call the federal agent who’s arresting you a nice guy.

San’s head hurts too much to think too hard about that right now. He checks his pockets and sees that Wooyoung left his wallet and badge intact, and even his gun is still lying on the floor where it had fallen when he’d blacked out.

It takes him a few minutes to locate the exit and drag himself out of the tunnel. Once outside, he pulls out his phone and pulls up his boss’ number. There had been no service underground – probably deliberately.

“Hello?” Comes a gruff voice on the other end of the phone.

San’s head gives a painful throb.

Time to explain that Wooyoung had somehow managed to escape.

It’s another month before San’s able to track Wooyoung again.

Following San’s disaster of an attempt to capture him, Wooyoung had completely vanished off the grid and he’d almost concluded that the other had returned to Ilsan. Until a luxury jewellery store had suddenly reported that thirteen of their finest designs had vanished overnight. It had taken barely three minutes for San to conclude that the robbery was most definitely Wooyoung. It had his signature practically written all over it, from the exact models he’d chosen to steal (instead of merely the ones with largest valuable stones, he’d gone for the necklaces with the most complex designs, as usual), to the style of entrance and exit. It was like he was taunting San, laughing at him for being one step behind him all the time.

San laughs under his breath as he looks at the photographs of the crime scene. Fine. You wanna play?

He turns to the wall he’s dedicated to this case. Okay, so maybe he’s become a little obsessed with finding the other guy, to the extent that his entire office sort of resembles a Jung Wooyoung shrine, but he needs to fucking arrest him, to prove both to Wooyoung and himself that he’s capable of completing his mission. To prove that Wooyoung can’t outsmart him. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he can’t stop thinking about Wooyoung’s annoyingly sexy face.

He really just needs to put an end to this mission once and for all so that he can move on with his life.

“Bingo,” he whispers, heart jolting as his eyes fall onto the map of the city. Colourful strings and pins connect the places that Wooyoung has definitely been. There’s a blank area on the map, in the same neighbourhood of the jewellery shop Wooyoung had just robbed, and right in the middle is a luxury casino that will be having a jewellery auction this weekend. The perfect place to rob.

This time, he needs to fucking make sure Wooyoung doesn’t get away.

San adjusts the uncomfortable tie he’s wearing, double checking his reflection in the mirror to make sure his gun isn’t visible under his suit jacket. This is the first time he’s gone undercover in a while, let alone dressed like this. He’s always hated formalwear.

With a sigh, he turns away from the mirror and heads towards the ornate golden doors that lead into the casino. He’s never seen such an outrageously lavish building before, everything sparkling and gold with high ceilings and massive chandeliers. The carpets and walls have sweeping flower patterns, almost a nod to Rococo era designs, though too much of it is gold-plated for it to be tasteful, in San’s opinion. Not that anybody would be asking him.

He’s able to acknowledge that it’s a good thing he’d dressed up, because everyone inside here looks like they’ve stepped straight out of a high fashion magazine. A woman wearing a sweeping dark green gown walks past him, an emerald nearly the size of San’s fist around her neck. He steps out of her way, keeping his head down and trying to avoid drawing too much attention to himself. He needs to just locate Wooyoung and get the hell out of here without anyone noticing him.

He scans his eyes over the room, trying to find the location of the auction. It wouldn’t be Wooyoung’s style to target any of the jewellery the people in the room are wearing; he’d want to go after the big fish, and none of his previous heists had involved civilians.

San feels impatient, in some weird way. It’s like everything from the past month has been leading up to this moment, and now he just wants to see the look on Wooyoung’s face when he realises he’s going to be arrested, this time for real.

He politely takes one of the champagne flutes offered to him by a passing waiter, obviously not planning on actually having any while he’s on the job but needing to blend in. The champagne can wait for later, when he’s celebrating successfully completing the only mission that’s ever given him this much trouble.

San’s stomach lurches suddenly when he spots a familiar figure on the other side of the room. Wooyoung. What the hell is he doing here already? The auction doesn’t start until midnight.

As much as San hates to admit it, Wooyoung looks fucking fantastic. He’s wearing a low-cut silver shirt, the silk material catching the light and making him look almost ethereal, paired with skin-tight black pants. Even from this distance, San can tell he’s wearing makeup, his eyes darker and lips more glossy than the last time they’d met.

San mentally tells himself to snap out of it. Could he get more fucking unprofessional? The last thing he needs is to be distracted, especially when Wooyoung’s already proving to be one of the most evasive criminals he’s ever encountered.

Keeping to the edge of the room, San’s careful to stay hidden out of sight as he makes his way in Wooyoung’s direction. Wooyoung is at a poker table and, judging by the amount of chips piled up next to him compared to his competitors, he’s winning.

San’s brain is working at a million miles a minute, already coming up with a new plan based on the present circumstances. Even though he’d badly screwed up the mission last time, it’s not for no reason that he’s one of the youngest people at his rank. He definitely already has enough probable cause evidence to arrest Wooyoung, and then he’d be preventing the heist and managing to finally get him in prison, thus striking down two birds with one stone.

Wooyoung’s eyes are focused on the poker table and San watches him deliberate how to make his next move. The other men at the table look like they’re in their fifties, all wearing expensive black suits and very irritated expressions. Unsurprising, given that it’s obvious Wooyoung is about to win, although the men have no idea how badly Wooyoung has them beat. San can see Wooyoung’s cards from behind him and he has a full house card set.

San knows it would draw too much attention if he walked up to Wooyoung with a gun when everyone is already watching him anyway, so he patiently waits as the game comes to an end, all of Wooyoung’s competitors folding their cards one after the other and Wooyoung collecting the chips from the centre of the table.

“Cheers, gentlemen,” Wooyoung says, clearly ignoring the way everyone is glaring daggers at him. “This was fun, but I have to be somewhere else. Would you mind?” he turns towards one of the staff members standing near the table, gesturing at his chips.

The amount of money the chips are worth looks to be in the hundreds of thousands. San is surprised Wooyoung feels the need to rob anything after that sort of winning, but, then again, some of the jewellery on offer at the auction would be valued at several million dollars.

Focus.

He watches as Wooyoung turns away from the table, walking into the crowd and towards the exit of the casino. Timing his movements perfectly, he falls into step beside him, grabbing his arm tightly and pointing a gun firmly at his side.

Wooyoung barely even flinches, just turning his head slightly to look at San. “For fucks sake, it’s you again?”

“Keep walking,” San says, pressing the gun harder against him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Wooyoung says, walking without putting up a struggle. “But listen, you need to get the hell out of here and leave me alone, for tonight at least.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because it’s in your best interest.” They walk past a few people standing at a blackjack table, and Wooyoung lowers his voice. “Listen, I’m being serious, you need to leave. If anyone sees you with a gun then you’ll be shot on sight. The people here are not the kind to think twice before pulling a trigger.”

“Neither am I,” San says through gritted teeth. “So shut the fuck up and cooperate before I’m forced to shoot you.”

Wooyoung doesn’t look particularly concerned by the threat. He stops suddenly, eyes landing on something in the crowd that San can’t see. “Fuck. Okay, come here.” He presses himself against San’s side, hiding the gun from view between their bodies. He’s almost scarily unconcerned with the fact that San could shoot him at any second.

San blinks. “What are you doing?”

“Saving your fucking life. God, you really are such a nuisance.” Wooyoung says, then loops his arms around San’s neck and starts swaying to the music.

San had noticed that they’re next to the dancefloor (always being aware of his surroundings is part of his job), but he has no fucking clue what Wooyoung is doing, or what the hell is going on. He just knows he needs to not get distracted by the way Wooyoung keeps moving against him, aware that this is definitely some diversion strategy.

“Put the gun away,” Wooyoung says into his ear, breath hot against his neck.

“I’m not letting you escape,” San replies, wondering how the hell he ended up in this situation.

“You’re not getting out of this alive if you don’t listen to what I say.” Wooyoung says quietly. “Some of the people here tonight are the ultimate kingpins, the most dangerous people in the business. Don’t look at me like that, there’s not a chance in hell you’ll be able to arrest any of them, especially not alone. I’m also not telling you who they are.”

San can’t help but glance around the room. He’d noticed the many guards at the doors earlier, but he’d assumed that was standard procedure for people at this level of wealth. “What does that have to do with you?”

“There are approximately three-hundred-and-forty-two firearms in this room at the present moment. Give or take. If anyone notices that you’re threatening me, let alone that you’re a government agent, you’ll be shot. No questions asked.”

San tries not to let the words stress him out, although he can feel his grip on the gun grow sweaty. Stay focused. You’ve been in worse situations before.

“All I have to do,” Wooyoung murmurs quietly, and he’s leaned in so close that the words are almost whispered against San’s skin. “Is make one hand gesture, and you’re dead. So put away your gun before you regret it.”

San knows he shouldn’t take Wooyoung’s word for this, because he’s just manipulating him again like the mastermind criminal he is. But he can also handle himself without a gun, and then there’s no chance of him being shot by one of the definitely armed guards at the side of the room. He slips his gun back into his pocket, holding Wooyoung’s arm so tightly he wonders whether he’s cutting off the other’s circulation.

Wooyoung smirks but doesn’t make a move to try and escape. “You’re not doing a very good job at blending in,” he says pointedly.

San knows he’s right, and reluctantly starts moving slightly to the music. How fucking ridiculous can this whole situation get; he’s dancing with the guy he’s supposed to be arresting.

“We’ll dance until the end of this song to avoid suspicion,” San tells him, “then we’ll leave and you’re coming with me in the car waiting outside for us.”

“It’s cute that you still think you have the upper hand.” Wooyoung says. He wraps his free arm around San’s shoulders and presses against him, chest-to-chest. His voice takes on a more seductive tone. “You clean up real nice, by the way, Mr Secret Agent.”

San wants to retort something, but he’s so caught off guard that he just stares at Wooyoung. “Stop flirting with me,” he says.

“Or what? You’ll handcuff me?” Wooyoung runs his finger along San’s jaw, eyes on his mouth. “Because I’m into that.”

Jesus Christ.

San is not going to survive this.

His grip on Wooyoung’s arm had slackened so he tightens it. The song comes to an end; San immediately drags Wooyoung off the floor and towards the exit, not wanting to waste another second.

Suddenly, the lights go out, drenching the entire casino in darkness.

There are some panicked shouts and loud scuffling sounds as people try to move without crashing into each other. San keeps a firm grip on Wooyoung, absolutely certain he has something to do with this and determined to not let him escape. Someone knocks into his back and he stumbles, but grabs Wooyoung as soon as he catches his balance.

The darkness only lasts for a few seconds, lights switching back on after a moment. He can hear the crowd grumbling at the interruption, but San is staring in horror at the person who’s arm he’s holding onto. It’s most definitely not Wooyoung, just some poor waiter who looks scared out of his mind.

What the fuck. How the fuck did Wooyoung manage to pull this off?

San lets go of the waiter with a mumbled apology, head whipping around as he tries to catch sight of Wooyoung’s silver shirt in the crowd. He must have only had about ten seconds to escape, so he’s definitely still somewhere in the room.

But as a few minutes turn into half an hour of searching the room desperately, San is forced to conclude the very unpleasant fact that Wooyoung had managed to escape. Again.

Seriously, fuck that guy.

This time, it only takes a week for San to trace Wooyoung again. It would probably have taken longer if he hadn’t spent every waking moment completely obsessed with locating him. San had even started fucking dreaming about the guy, although the types of dreams were absolutely not helpful or productive in helping him solve this case.

After his failed attempt at the casino, he’d thrown himself into finding Wooyoung with renewed fervour. The only good news had been that none of the jewellery at the auction was stolen, although San wasn’t sure how much of that had been thanks to him.

He’d needed to call basically every single one of his contacts before he’d been able to find someone who knew anything about Wooyoung’s plans. And even once he’d managed to work out with relative certainty when and where Wooyoung was next going to break in, his boss had been adamant about taking him off the case and sending in someone more experienced. It’s true that San has only been a fully qualified agent for, like, a year, and that he’d failed two attempts at arresting Wooyoung already, but he can’t let someone else take the case. Not now.

Which is why he’s once against crouched against a wall with a gun held ready. Luckily this time it’s in a warm, pleasant smelling mall instead of the gross tunnel from before. Even though the darkness that surrounds him is slightly unnerving.

He checks his watch again. It’s two-thirty in the morning. Where the fuck is Wooyoung? So far, every time he’d done a heist he’d been in and out of the building before two.

San is about to decide that maybe he did make a mistake and Wooyoung isn’t coming when someone seizes him from behind, a hand covering his mouth and another taking his gun.

“Hello again,” a familiar voice whispers into his ear.

San stares straight ahead, shocked.

What the fuck.

“As glad as I am for us to be reunited,” Wooyoung says, turning San around and slipping San’s gun into his pocket, not letting go of his hold on him, “you need to go. Again. You’re out of your depth here. Also again.”

He steps away completely, letting San go.

“What are you talking about? You don’t know shit about what my depth is.”

“I know that this is not somewhere you’ll want to be tonight. Please just believe me and go.”

“You’re really something else. Why on earth would I leave just because you tell me to, when the reason I’m here tonight is to arrest you? I’m not falling for your tricks a second time.”

Wooyoung sighs. “I’ll promise to give you a hint about where exactly I’ll be in, like, a week if you leave now.”

“Don’t be stupid. Is this all some weird, twisted game to you? I’m gonna arrest you right now.”

“Please, San, just go.”

San freezes. “How the fuck do you know my name?”

Wooyoung pushes San towards the exit of the mall. “I’ll tell you everything later, but please fucking leave. Right now.”

“No- I’m not gonna-”

Bang.

San can barely keep up with what the hell is happening, but suddenly he’s lying on the floor, Wooyoung on top of him, hand over San’s mouth again, and that was most definitely the sound of a gun going off.

So this is how he’s going to die, huh.

“I fucking told you to go, why couldn’t you just listen to me?” Wooyoung asks, voice low and breath hot as he whispers the words against San’s ear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is a disaster.”

Maybe Wooyoung had been onto something when he’d said San was out of his depth here. San strains his neck to try and see who’d fired the gun before. But it’s kinda hard to move – or think – with Wooyoung lying on top of him, keeping him pressed firmly against the cool, marble floor.

He doesn’t know which is making his heart beat faster: the gunshot from before or how fucking close they are.

“Stay still,” Wooyoung whispers.

This time, San actually does what the other says. Wooyoung’s hipbone is pressing uncomfortably into his stomach, their knees keep brushing, and he’s a little sore from being pushed to the floor before, but mostly San’s just scared that he might actually, you know, die.

Another bang goes off, this time further away. Wooyoung peeks around the corner, gun held ready.

“Get up. Now. Quick.” Wooyoung says, climbing off San and holding out his hand. San barely hesitates before gripping it. Their eyes lock as he stands up; San looks away first.

“What the fuck is going on?” San whispers.

“I don’t have time to explain. We need to get out.” Wooyoung turns away and walks towards the window, as though contemplating climbing out through there.

Before San can reply, he feels his neck prickle. He turns around, eyes scanning the empty mall, trying to spot what had made him feel on-edge. The closed stores lining both sides of the corridor gleam innocently.

There’s a quiet swoosh sound and San feels something sharp poke his upper arm. A glance down reveals that it’s a red dart – someone shot him with some sort of laced dart and is he really going to be fucking poisoned because that is not a pleasant way to die.

He can already feel his fingertips going numb. ‘Wooyoung, watch out,’ he says, except he doesn’t say it because he can’t, his mouth isn’t working, he can’t get his lips to move and his legs are giving out and he’s falling to the floor for the second time in the span of, like, five minutes, this is so fucking stupid but he’s terrified and maybe he really is as bad of an agent as Wooyoung probably thinks he is.

He doesn’t know if Wooyoung sees what’s happening, doesn’t see anything, can’t think. The ceiling of the mall is going in and out of focus. A chandelier sparkles in the corner of his vision. He can’t feel his body, can’t move.

His eyelids are so heavy. His eyes slip shut.

The first thing San becomes aware of when he wakes up is the sharp pain in his shoulders.

“What the fuck?” He grumbles, eyes adjusting to the darkness of his present location. His mind feels heavy, thoughts slow and clouded.

Okay. He needs to evaluate his present situation.

He’s alive, which is good.

His hands are tied tightly behind his back, which is not good.

He also appears to be locked inside of some sort of box, judging from the way his foot knocks against something hard and wooden when he tries to lift it. Very not good.

San tries to remember all the scattered details from the night, wondering if maybe he’ll be able to figure out what the hell had happened. He’d always considered himself quite a capable agent, but he’s never felt like more of a failure. The only times he’s ever failed to complete an arrest have happened during the course of this mission, and now he’s being held captive in some sort of wooden box, for reasons unknown.

His shoulders also really fucking hurt because of the way his wrists are tied, so he tries to roll on his front and ease some of the pressure, but promptly lands halfway on top of a second person.

“Eugh,” Wooyoung groans.

Their bodies press together in the tight space. “Sorry,” San says, shuffling back hastily.

“What’s- what’s happening? Where are we?” Wooyoung asks groggily.

“Uh, I was hoping you could tell me.”

Through the darkness, San can see Wooyoung’s expression shift from confusion to panic as he realises that they’re currently trapped. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Wooyoung gives the side of the box an experimental kick, the resounding thud strangely muted. “Well, what do we do now? You’re the reason we’re in this mess in the first place, so you better get us out of here.”

“Me? How is this my fault?”

Wooyoung slams his foot against the top of the box, then tries to wriggle his wrists out of the ropes tying them together. “Because you fucking had to interfere when I kept telling you to just leave me alone.” His voice is tense. “I had it all handled but you ruined everything and now we’re gonna die.”

“Woah, okay, hold up. Can you explain what the fuck you’re talking about?”

Wooyoung gives the box another kick.

“Fine,” he says. “We’re done for anyway, so I guess it doesn’t even matter. I’m not whoever you think I am. I’m literally a government agent from the Ilsan department and I was tasked with infiltrating some of the local gangs to try and stop the flow of illegal drugs between the cities. And you’ve been a real pain in the ass, because tonight I was going to finally meet the main supplier and take him down, but you fucking showed up and he spotted you and I had to chose between letting him kill you or giving up my cover and saving you.”

“What the fuck? What the fuck-”

“And now not only did I give up my cover but we’re both gonna die because gangs are merciless when it comes to betrayal. Which is why they buried us alive, ‘cause that’s how they handle traitors.”

San’s heart drops as he takes in the gravity of their situation. So, they’re in a box, buried underground. Which is very, very not good. San feels the first traces of panic creep through him.

“What about the first time we met?” San forces the words out, trying to keep his voice steady. He feels like he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t know whether it’s because the air is already getting thinner or because he’s freaking the fuck out.

“I knew you were under the impression that I was the one executing all those robberies – which I wasn’t, for the record, it was gang stuff – but, like, I couldn’t tell you who I really was without giving up my cover. The person who hit you on the head was a second agent I’m working with, he’s also undercover.”

“And… the thing at the casino?”

Wooyoung snorts. “I was just there to get some intel on some of the people there and gamble a little to make the gangs trust me. I wasn’t lying about the stuff I said, by the way. They really would have shot you on sight if it wasn’t for me.”

San feels like his entire world is imploding. “How did you escape?”

“I knew the lights would switch off at exactly ten-thirty because one of the gangs had a hit planned on a rival. I just needed to keep you distracted until then. Distracted enough that you wouldn’t notice me tripping you and switching the person standing next to us into my place. It’s really easy to do that trick once you know how.”

God, San is a fucking dumbass. Everything he’d thought he knew about the case is a complete lie, apparently.

There’s a thump as Wooyoung lets his head drop against the floor. He makes a frustrated noise, kicking his foot against the lid of the box a second time.

“What are you-”

“We need someone to hear us and rescue us. There’s no way we’ll be able to escape by ourselves.” He kicks the lid of the box again, more violently. “HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Realising that he’s right, San slams his foot against the side of the box, hoping that they aren’t too far down to be heard. “LET US OUT! CAN SOMEONE HELP US?”

Their voices blend together, and the walls of the box shake with the force of their kicks and shoves. Being trapped is starting to scare San more than he wants to admit, he can feel the cold shiver of panic running down his spine as his kicks start to get more desperate.

“Hold on,” San says, panting heavily and voice slightly rough from all their yelling.

Wooyoung ignores him, struggling more urgently against the ropes tying his wrists as his kicks become less even and more panicked. “SOMEONE! ANYONE! LET US OUT!”

“STOP!” San tells him more forcefully, and Wooyoung slumps back against the floor.

“We’re doomed,” Wooyoung says.

“No, listen, we can’t panic-”

“Can’t panic? What do you mean we can’t panic? We’ve been buried alive -”

“We need to stay calm-”

Wooyoung slams his foot against the top of the box, breathing heavy and uneven as he desperately strains against the bindings on his wrists. “You think we should stay calm, San,” Wooyoung says, laughing without any humour. “Well, sorry if I can’t do that. I’ve fucking seen this been done to people before, and you know what happens to all of them? They end up fucking dead.”

“We need to be rational-”

“How the fuck do you wanna be rational when we’re literally trapped in a box?”

“Listen, I’m just saying-”

“I don’t care.” Wooyoung slams his foot against the side of the box repeatedly. “LET US OUT! SOMEONE HELP!”

San feels dizzy, the enclosed space seems to be getting smaller by the second and Wooyoung’s loud voice rings through his head. He drops his head against the hard box, focusing on breathing evenly.

“WHO THE FUCK LOCKED US IN HERE?” Wooyoung shouts. “I HOPE YOU DIE A LONG AND PAINFUL DEATH!”

San needs to think, but he can’t. Everything is too close, too warm, too loud.

“WOOYOUNG.” He bellows over the sound of the other’s yelling. “SHUT UP!”

Wooyoung falls silent, staring at San through the darkness. His chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths. “I was gonna ask you that, earlier. How- how do you know my real name?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“I’ll tell you in a second, but first you need to listen to me.” San says. He forces himself to sound extra calm. “I have a plan, okay? But if we shout and move so much then we’ll use up our air supply faster. We can probably last a couple of hours if we play our cards right, and that’s all we need.”

“What are you talking about?”

San lets his head drop against the floor of the box, trying to angle himself so that the pressure on his shoulders decreases. “Look. Someone from the office is bound to notice that I’m gone. I always report back after a mission, and hopefully they’ll be able to track us to wherever we are right now. We just need to wait for them to find us.”

When he says it like that, he can almost believe it himself. In truth, he has no idea whether anyone will notice he’s disappeared before tomorrow, but Wooyoung doesn’t need to know that.

“And if you lie facing towards the wall, I’ll be able to untie your hands,” he adds.

“What, really? Why didn’t you say that?”

San exhales a laugh. “I fucking tried to, but you weren’t listening.”

Wooyoung doesn’t reply, merely rolls to the side. San angles himself towards the opposite wall, so that their backs are aligned. He’d been trained how to do this, but he’d never actually had to use this particular skill on a mission. Today is a day for many firsts.

His fingers fumble along the rough edges of the rope, occasionally brushing against Wooyoung’s warm skin. He manages to locate the central knot and makes quick work of loosening it. Soon enough, the rope loosens and slides onto the floor.

“Holy shit. Thank you,” Wooyoung says, gingerly rubbing the red skin on his wrists.

“Can you do mine?”

“Yeah. Hold on.”

Wooyoung inches towards him and manages to untangle the knot. San breathes a sigh of relief as he feels the strain on his shoulders ease.

They lie side-by-side for a second, quiet except for the sound of their breathing. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to try and ignore their current predicament.

“How long do you think it’s gonna be before someone comes looking for you?”

San’s heart feels heavy as he wonders what to say. “A few hours, probably? Let’s just… wait.”

Even through the darkness, he can see the way Wooyoung bites his lip nervously.

“Could you- could you maybe talk to me about something?” Wooyoung asks. “I just… want to not think.”

“Yeah, of course. What should I talk about?”

“You can start by explaining how you know my name.”

San turns his head to look at Wooyoung through the darkness. “Oh. I was asking a bunch of my, uh, contacts about the infamous jewellery thief from Ilsan, but nobody knew anything useful.”

“That’s because I wasn’t involved with those heists. Besides, they were all group efforts, not one-man jobs.”

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense now, actually.” San admits. He still can’t believe how wrong he’d been with literally everything he thought he’d known about Wooyoung. He thinks of his Wooyoung Board at the office, of how it’s basically all fake. “But I was talking to a couple of people at the federal prison, bringing up all the intel I had on you at that point, and this one guy was like ‘Do you mean Jung Wooyoung?’ but then he got so freaked out, you could tell he hadn’t meant to say that. And nothing I said could convince him to give me any more information.”

Wooyoung looks amused, which is a definite improvement to his previous state of terror. “Does the guy happen to be called Mingi?” he asks.

“Uh, he is, actually. How did you know?”

“He’s my co-worker. He’s undercover in prison to get insider information from the inmates. He’s one of the best in the field, but he probably was so shocked that you were asking about me that he was taken off guard, since he knows we’re all technically on the same side anyway. Fuck, I wonder what he’ll say once he finds out I got buried alive-”

“You’re gonna find out what he’ll say,” San interrupts, not liking that particular train of thought, “because we’re going to get out of here and you can tell him about it yourself. What a story: the time you got locked in with the agent who was tasked with arresting you.”

Wooyoung snorts. “I still can’t believe you tried to arrest me not once but three times. You’re remarkably persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, I thought you were a mastermind criminal.”

“Did you like me more when you thought I was a criminal?” Wooyoung asks teasingly, nudging his leg against San’s.

Now this kind of conversation San can work with, this is the Wooyoung he knows from before.

“I very much disliked you when I thought you were a criminal, so no.”

“You liked me,” Wooyoung says. “I saw you checking me out when you had to pat me down in the tunnel.”

San feels himself flush, something he would’ve thought would be impossible given their current situation. “I did not.”

“You totally did.”

Okay, he definitely did. But he’s not about to admit that.

They fall quiet. San doesn’t know if he’s imagining that the air is thinning. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here for already, how long he’d been unconscious for. He doesn’t know whether anyone’s gonna find them.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Wooyoung says, breaking the silence, “but could you please, like, hold my hand, or something? I’m just- I really, really don’t like being trapped like this, and maybe then I’d be able to focus on something else.”

“Yeah,” San’s voice is croaky, so he clears it and tries again. “Yeah, of course.”

Wooyoung’s hand finds his in the darkness. It’s soft and warm, and surprisingly nice to have a physical anchor, the comfort of having another person next to him. Of not being alone. San tries his best to keep his breathing slow and even, mind centred on Wooyoung’s hand interlinked with his.

San’s heart jolts when he feels something brush against his leg, pulse speeding up as he feels Wooyoung wrap his ankle around his calf, curling against his body and resting his head against his chest. Okay, so this probably isn’t helping to keep his heartrate as low as possible. But San’s arms are already wrapping around Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him flush up against him. Wooyoung’s solid form is surprisingly reassuring, as is the faint smell of his smell of soap and cologne. San would be embarrassed by how fast his heart is beating, but he can feel Wooyoung’s pulse hammering equally fast against his chest.

“Nobody’s coming to save us, are they.” Wooyoung whispers against him.

“I always come back to the office after a mission, they’ll know-”

“This mission was at two in the fucking morning, so even if you did go back to the office everybody’d already be asleep and-”

“We need to stay calm-”

“Yeah, I fucking wish I could stay calm, but we’re trapped and gonna die-”

“We are not going to die.” San interrupts.

Wooyoung pulls away; San feels strangely empty without his closeness. “How the fuck can you just say stuff like that when you literally don’t know, you don’t know anything, you’ve never seen the kind of things these guys are capable of, you-”

“Please, please try and stay calm.”

Wooyoung runs a hand along his face, looking distraught. “I can’t, I’m so fucking scared, we’re going to die-” he kicks against the box again, pressing up with his hands as though trying to open the lid. It doesn’t budge.

“Wooyoung, listen-”

“LET US OUT! CAN ANYONE HEAR US?”

San doesn’t know what to do, he just knows that he can’t let Wooyoung spiral into panic again and he does the first thing he can think of – he grabs Wooyoung’s face and kisses him straight on the lips.

He’s about to pull away, but Wooyoung lets out a strangled gasp and pushes forward into the kiss, grasping San’s shirt and keeping their lips firmly pressed together.

And San stops thinking, stops freaking out about their predicament, just stops.

Wooyoung’s lips are warm against his and San’s fingers stroke along the smooth skin of his jaw as he tilts Wooyoung’s head gently to deepen the kiss. They’re already so close that it’s easy to move one hand to Wooyoung’s waist and pull him more firmly against him.

And maybe San’s been wanting to do this since the first time he’d seen Wooyoung’s pretty lips. Maybe he’s thought about it on a couple of occasions, during all those late nights of trying to guess what Wooyoung’s next move would be, in between the hours of trying to convince himself that he wasn’t the slightest bit attracted to the other.

Wooyoung’s pushing up against him, running his tongue along the seam of San’s lips. There’s a desperation in the kiss, in the messy way in which their mouths move together. San’s head is spinning, he doesn’t know whether it’s because of their present location or just a by-product of kissing Wooyoung.

It doesn’t matter. Reality feels distant, a far-away concern that he can worry about later. The only thing that seems real is this moment, the feeling of his lips against Wooyoung’s and his hands on Wooyoung’s body. Everything else has faded to an insignificant afterthought.

Their teeth knock as San kisses Wooyoung more deeply and curls their tongues together, hot and wet. Wooyoung’s fingers tighten in the front of San’s shirt, breathing heavy between the deep, open-mouthed kisses. His skin smells like fabric softener and vanilla; his tongue tastes like the mints he’d had in his pockets, the time San had searched him for weapons. It feels like centuries ago.

“We’re- we’re gonna use up all our oxygen,” San manages to say, tearing his lips away from Wooyoung’s.

Wooyoung’s eyes are hazy, pupils blown wide. “I don’t care, we’re as good as dead anyway.”

He rolls onto his back and pulls San on top of him, their bodies pressed together everywhere. There’s barely enough space for the two of them, but it’s hard to think about that when Wooyoung moves his hands from the front of San’s shirt to under it, palming at the hot skin. His fingertips run over the ridges of San’s spine, leaving all his nerve endings alight.

“Seriously,” San’s voice is embarrassingly rough. He rests his head against Wooyoung’s neck. “Who knows how much time we have left-”

“In that case,” Wooyoung breathes, arching up against him, “you better kiss me like you fucking mean it,”

A groan slips out of San’s throat. He captures Wooyoung’s lips in a hard kiss, all tongue and teeth and helpless desperation.

He doesn’t know how much time they have left, doesn’t know how long he’s hoping they’ll last, doesn’t even know whether anyone’s going to come rescue them at all. Maybe they will actually die down here, wilting away as the air thins out. So, seriously, screw it. Screw it.

San drags his hands down the sides of Wooyoung’s body, then grabs his hips and pulls them flush against his own. Wooyoung gives a choked “Oh, fuck”, the sound sending a shudder along San’s entire body. He shoves a hand into Wooyoung’s hair, angling his head up to kiss him harder, deeper.

All thoughts of their imminent death have been overshadowed by the sheer amount of want; fear and rationality clouded by this frantic desire.

“San- I,” Wooyoung’s voice is low, wrecked. He drops his head to one side, and San drops kisses along his neck, tasting that smooth, hot skin. Wooyoung gasps, hands moving to tangle in San’s hair and hold him in place.

San can’t think. Everything is hot, the air around him, Wooyoung’s skin against his, the sensations rushing through his body. It’s so much; all the overwhelming, intoxicating touches and the mess of emotions in his chest.

He runs his tongue along a spot under Wooyoung’s ear, feels the way Wooyoung’s fingers tighten. Brushes his teeth along the spot gently.

“Nngh- fuck,” Wooyoung groans, hips rolling up against San’s.

It’s so much. But it’s so good, so much better than the unpleasantness from before, feels so good. If only San could just pause time in this moment, stop the ticking clock that they’re both terribly aware of. They’re both panting; Wooyoung’s breath is hot against his cheek.

“Fuck, I want you,” he whispers against Wooyoung’s skin. “Wish things were different.”

Wooyoung pulls San back to his lips into an open-mouthed kiss. “Me too. Want you so bad.”

San draws his lower lip into his mouth, scrapes his teeth along it. Wooyoung shudders, grinding against him. They’re both starting to sweat. San doesn’t know whether it’s because of the thinning air or the kisses.

Bang.

They both freeze, eyes wide.

Bang. Bang.

“Is that…?” Wooyoung asks, breathing unevenly.

San’s head is spinning. He rolls off Wooyoung, straining his ears to try and hear anything else.

Bang. Thud.

“It sounds like- like a shovel?” San says. It definitely sounds like a shovel. Is he hallucinating?

They stare at each other for a moment, then there’s an unmistakable scraping sound of scraping dirt.

“Someone’s up there,” San says, trying not to let too much hope flood through him. They’re still stuck, for now.

“HELP! WE’RE TRAPPED IN HERE!” Wooyoung shouts, and this time San doesn’t try and stop him. They both kick the sides of the box as hard as they can, crashing their feet against the wooden surface.

There’s a scraping sound, metal against wood, and then the box lid is being lifted, dirt slipping through the edges. Relief crashes over him in waves as San inhales the fresh air, cool against his sweaty skin and soothing on his tired lungs.

“Sweet Jesus, you both look awful,” says an unfamiliar voice.

San blinks up, eyes adjusting his surroundings. It’s still relatively dark outside, and they appear to be in the middle of a field of some sort. A figure stands over them, dressed in black and holding a shovel. Judging by the dim rays of sunlight just starting to peak over the horizon, he’d guess that it’s early in the morning.

“Yunho, oh my god, what the fuck.” Wooyoung says, pushing himself up and sitting on the floor. “How the hell did you find us? I’m so glad to see you, holy shit.”

The stranger gives a bright smile, reaching a hand out to help Wooyoung climb out of the box, then offering one to San. “Dude, I was so worried, you have no idea. I knew you were supposed to meet the supplier tonight, but then you suddenly vanished, and I heard some of the guys talking about successfully weeding out the traitorous rats. Since, as far as I know, you and I are the only people undercover, I knew something bad must have happened. I gave a couple of drinks to Kwanghoon – you know how he gets when he’s drunk – and then he spilled the beans about where you were located and what had happened. I came here immediately.”

Both San and Wooyoung have their hands on their knees, gulping up the fresh air. Holy shit, San hadn’t realised how little oxygen had been left in the box. He kinda wants to lie down on the floor, but he knows that they need to get out of gang territory before they get caught again and killed, this time for real.

“Thank you for your help,” San tells the guy who’d rescued them – Yunho, Wooyoung had called him – giving him a weak handshake.

“No problem, I wasn’t about to let my best bud Wooyoung die on me like that. And any friend of the government is a friend of mine, so you’re cool in my books.”

Wooyoung manages to stand up properly and leans in to hug Yunho. “We should get out of here,” he says when he pulls back.

“Yeah, we should.” Yunho replies. “Hold on, is that a fucking hickey?”

“Um… nope? Anyway, let’s go. Now.” Wooyoung says, brushing off his pants and nodding towards the edge of the field, where trees grow more densely. “It’ll be easier to stay hidden there.”

The three of them start walking, San’s muscles trying to adjust to the movement after being in a cramped space for so long. He lags behind the other two, keeping his eye out for anything suspicious about their surroundings.

“You filthy animal.” San hears Yunho say to Wooyoung as they walk ahead, to which Wooyoung hits him in the stomach.

San’s chest tightens in memory of what had happened before Yunho had rescued them. He had loved it, and preferably wanted more of that, but he’s worried about what’s going to happen between him and Wooyoung now. After all, passionate, near-death, in-the-moment kisses and ordinary life (let alone lives as stressful as his and Wooyoung’s) are very different scenarios.

He decides to push the thoughts to one side until his life isn’t still in immediate danger. They manage to get to the edge of the forest, and San calls the office to send a car to pick them up. He’d been right; they’d noticed his absence, but hadn’t known where to even begin looking for him. If it wasn’t for Wooyoung’s agent friend, it’s likely that he and Wooyoung would actually have suffocated in that box.

Yunho, the saviour in question, turns to face San and says with a serious expression, “I need to ask. What exactly are your intentions towards my dearest friend?”

Wooyoung gives an embarrassed groan. “Fucking hell, Yunho, be quiet. Let’s not do this now.”

San glances between the two of them, half amused and half nervous. “I, um…”

“Don’t say anything,” Wooyoung tells him. “If you give him anything to work with, he’ll never leave it alone.”

Yunho gives a dramatic sigh. “You’re no fun. I need to make some calls so I’m gonna go do that, you guys better stay here and figure your shit out in the meantime. And I’m not talking about agent shit. I’m talking about that real good, heart-to-heart conversation shit, that dramatic love confes-” he cuts off as Wooyoung smacks a hand over his mouth. Shoving him off, he says, “that’s no way to treat someone who just saved your life.”

“I’m going to end your life if you don’t shut up and go make your calls.” Wooyoung says.

Yunho leaves with an unconcerned laugh, going a little further into the forest, out of earshot. San turns to Wooyoung, suddenly shy now that they’re not facing imminent death or able to pretend that they’re mortal enemies. They stand in silence for a moment, both of them waiting for the other to speak first.

“I… like you,” San says finally.

Wooyoung grins. “I’d gathered that.”

San rolls his eyes. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Where would the fun in that be?” Wooyoung says, but he steps closer and puts his arms around San’s shoulders. “For the record, I like you too. Even if you did try and arrest me three times.”

“That was just business,” San says, wrapping his hands around Wooyoung’s waist. It’s an amazing feeling to be able to hold him like this, out of the confined space in the box and not having to feel guilty for being attracted to someone he’s supposed to be busy putting in jail. “I’m glad you’re not actually a criminal,” he murmurs, leaning in so that their noses are brushing.

“So am I. It’s a horribly unfulfilling lifestyle.” Wooyoung’s eyes are half-lidded as San pulls him even closer by the waist. “Does this mean you’ll take me out on a date?”

“I’d like to.”

“Good.”

Wooyoung presses up against him and catches San’s lips in a kiss. It’s slower, more tender than the one in the box. None of the near-death desperation, more a gentle exploration of each other as warm emotions unfurl in San’s chest and spread through his body.

Wooyoung’s warm against him, lips soft, and this is so good, so nice. He could do this for hours, just basking in the early morning sunshine with Wooyoung’s mouth against his. San’s really fucking glad he didn’t die buried under the ground.

Wooyoung breaks away first, dropping light kisses along San’s jaw and up his neck. Not necessarily heated, more just enjoying the fact that they’re here, alive, together. San tangles his hands in Wooyoung’s hair, gently moving his head forward so that he can press another kiss squarely on his mouth.

“You’re incredible,” he says, because Wooyoung is. He’s pretty in the sunlight, even with dirt in his hair and streaks of sweat along his back. The only person who’s ever been able to one-up San.

“Mmh. I know.” Wooyoung replies between their slow kisses.

“I take it back.”

“Too late. All your cards are on the table already.”

Before San can reply, Yunho walks back over to them with a wolf-whistle. “I see you managed to have that heart-to-heart conversation,” he says, amused.

They break apart, although San kinda wishes they could just keep kissing for a few hours. But it’s okay, they have time. All the time in the world.

“You’re lucky you saved my life, or I’d fight you.” Wooyoung tells Yunho. “What’s the update on our mission stuff?”

“You’re off the case, obviously, but as far as we can tell my cover hasn’t been blown. Now that you’re no longer undercover, our branch of the operations units has been able to make contact with the one here, so it’s very likely that you’ll be transferred to continue working here instead of going back to Ilsan. You’re more valuable here since you’re already familiar with many of the crime syndicates and major players.”

San feels his heart beat hopefully in his chest, wondering whether Wooyoung is thinking the same thing. He’d been worried Wooyoung would disappear back to Ilsan, but if he stays, then…

“It’s a lucky coincidence that by remaining here you’d be able to stay with loverboy.” Yunho finishes with a smirk. “I do love a good happy ending.”

“You’re so annoying,” Wooyoung says, but he’s smiling. “I’m gonna give everyone at this unit a run for their money. I’ll probably end up stealing San’s job if he doesn’t step up his game and do better at arresting people.”

“I’m right here,” San says, rolling his eyes.

Wooyoung grins cheekily at him. “I know.”

“God, this flirting is making me nauseous. I regret instructing you guys to have that love confession.” Yunho says, then his eyes land on something in the distance. “Hey, I think that might be the car San asked to have pick us up. Let’s get out of here before anyone sees us.”

Wooyoung’s legs brush against San’s the whole drive back, and San can’t help but think about how glad he is, genuinely, that things worked out, at least for today. Who knows what tomorrow will hold, or the day after. In his line of work, you just had to take everything day-by-day. The good days and the bad days. Today had been both, but now it’s good.

Really good, he thinks as Wooyoung takes his hand with a smile.

“Shut up.” San says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Wooyoung starts laughing again at the look on his face, bending over and slapping his hand on San’s desk in his office. San thinks he might have actual tears in his eyes.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung chokes out between his laughter. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. You attributed the crimes of, like, four different gangs to me alone. I’m really quite flattered.”

San’s cheeks flush harder. They’re standing in his office, after Wooyoung had begged and pleaded to let him see San’s crime wall about him. San is very much regretting having caved into bringing him here.

“I can’t help that people kept telling me it was you doing all of that, and that all the crimes had the same M.O.” San says. “Literally down to the tools used. Who the fuck could’ve guessed four different gangs use spark plugs when they’re barely ever found in such large-scale robberies?”

Wooyoung stops laughing, straightening his back as he looks at San’s wall again. “They don’t use spark plugs. I’ve never seen that before,” he says, voice suddenly serious.

San joins him next to the wall, mind already whirring with ideas. “And all the traces of tobacco found at the scenes were the from the same plantation, too. Which means, even if different gangs are responsible for all the crimes…”

“It’s only one person actually pulling them off.” Wooyoung finishes, eyes wide. “Like a hitman, just with robberies. Holy fuck.”

“We have to tell someone about this,” San says. “This is huge. Crazy huge.”

“Let’s go,” Wooyoung says, already on his way towards the door. “You know what, San? I think we might be about to work our first case together.”

“I think you might be right. Let’s see whether you really are going to give me a run for my money in solving cases.”

Wooyoung’s eyes are bright with amusement and the excitement that comes from getting such a significant clue. “Let’s see whether you’re better at arresting people when you’re not busy thinking about boning them.”

San sputters, grabbing his files off the table and following Wooyoung out of the room. “Firstly, that’s not what happened. Secondly, even if it was, it wasn’t entirely my fault. You kept deliberately doing the most to distract me.”

Wooyoung grins at him. “What can I say? You’re fun to distract.”

And as they walk together to report their findings, San thinks, yeah, this is real nice. Because although he has no idea what’ll happen next year, or even tomorrow, in this moment, everything is good.

In this moment, he’s happy. And that’s all that matters for now.