Archive of Our Own

1.

It all starts at an ice cream shop. After three tests, two quizzes, and nightmares every night for six days straight, Team has had a pretty rough week. Win hated seeing his boyfriend look so tired and burnt out, and figured the least he could do was try to find a way to take his mind off of everything.

“Hia, you’re my favorite person in the whole world,” Team says solemnly from across the table. He has a double scoop of ice cream in one hand, and there’s a sundae on the table in front of him.

Win smiles. “I figured this would cheer you up,” Win says. Nothing seems to make him happy like seeing his baby happy.

The ice cream shop is brand new, an eight-minute walk from campus, and has every one of Team’s favorite flavors. Not to mention the day is so hot it’s the ideal weather for it. It’s almost like the universe hates seeing Team upset just as much as Win does.

“You have to taste this mango,” Team says as he scoops some from his sundae. “It’s so good.” He reaches across the table so Win can eat the ice cream off the spoon.

“It is good,” Win agrees. He could eat any ice cream, really, he’s just happy to see Team so excited. He raises a hand up to dab at the sweat on his forehead. “We can start coming here, if you want. Since it’s such a close walk.”

Team nods excitedly. “Next time, I want to try the triple scoop. I feel like I could eat all of it before it melts.” His cheeks are rosy from the heat, and Win feels that hyper, fluttery feeling in his chest he’s assigned to mean love.

Win rolls his eyes and looks at the glob of ice cream trickling down Team’s cone to meet his hand. “You’re not even eating that one fast enough, baby,” he says with a laugh. “You’re making a mess.”

Team makes an annoyed sound and brings his hand up to lick the stripes of coconut ice cream from around his knuckles. When he raises his head up again there’s still some on his mouth, and when Win sees the completed look: Team’s flushed cheeks, his hair damp, mussed, and pushed out of his face, and the drops of white clinging to his bottom lip, Win has the immediate desire to put Team on his back.

He’s seen that look before in a very, very different context and the heat that spreads out underneath his skin is much hotter than the sun beating down overhead.

“Hia?” Team asks, reaching over to touch his elbow across the table. Win is surprised he doesn’t jerk his hand back at the charge he feels when Team’s fingers curl around his arm. “Are you okay? You’re making a face.”

And there’s that obliviousness that Win hates so much. He’s most certainly not okay, thank you for asking, because his mind is playing all the explicit memories he has of Team like a damn slideshow on HD, complete with surround sound. 

He reaches across to swipe at the ice cream on Team’s mouth, hoping that in its absence his body can at least try to calm down. Team looks down at the action and smiles a little sheepishly.

“Oops,” he says, licking his lips for good measure. Win feels it like Team is licking somewhere else. “Did I get it?”

Win nods stiffly, doing his best to imagine something decidedly non-sexy. Dean with acne in middle school sneezing out chocolate milk seems to be steadily doing the trick, but the glimpses of Team going to town on the ice cream cone every time he looks up is doing its best to reverse all his hard work.

“Yeah,” Win says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too strained. Team has had a rough week. Win should let him enjoy his dessert, insistent hard-on in his pants be damned. “You got it. I just got distracted with how pretty you are, that’s all.”

Team lets out a whine again, softly kicking Win’s ankle underneath the table. “Stop it.”

He goes back to eating his ice cream like nothing happened while Win tries to find a way to make his dick calm down after getting excited over a damn ice cream cone.

2. 

When Win decided to let Team have a relaxing day of nothing but snacks and video games yesterday he had been under the impression that the next day was fair game for him and his wandering hands. Instead, Team woke up to three texts from Pharm begging to come over because Manow needed help with something. So instead of pulling Team under the covers for some morning relaxation, Win ended up putting on pants and going over to Pharm’s apartment with Team.

There are multiple things that Win could have expected when Pharm pulled open the door to his apartment, but Pharm standing in front of him with a full face of smokey looking eye makeup on with bright red lipstick was definitely not one of them.

“Looking good, buttercup,” Win says cheerfully. Team peers around his shoulder and makes a startled noise.

“Win, I told you to stop calling him that,” comes Dean’s tired voice from inside the apartment.

Win laughs and strolls inside. “But he looks so sweet,” Win coos. “Especially right now. However, I will say I’m curious about the occasion.” Dean scoffs from his position on Pharm’s bed, turning a page in his book.

“He’s helping me!” Manow chirps. She’s sitting at Pharm’s desk with a multitude of makeup spread out in front of her. Win recognizes one of the bright red lipsticks as the same shade that’s on Pharm’s mouth.

“With what exactly?” Team asks. He looks a bit worried. Considering the fact they came over here after Pharm texted that Manow needed Team’s help with something, he understands his apprehension.

“I’m doing the acting club’s makeup for their show and I need test subjects,” she says excitedly. “Or rather…test models. And I figured who would be better to ask than my best friends Pharm and Team who love me so much?”

Team makes a strangled noise. “Can’t you just ask Del? Or Don?”

“Del is busy with Alex, and Don won’t let Manow near him with makeup after the eyelash curler incident,” Dean says helpfully.

Manow clicks her teeth. “Don doesn’t listen, I told him not to jerk his head. It was like four eyelashes, anyway.” Pharm makes a face like that’s not true, but he decides against saying something. “Anyway, I need Team to be my other life-sized Barbie.”

“What?” Team squawks. “Why me?” He puts his hand on his hips and purses his lips.

“Because I kind of procrastinated on deciding on the final look and I’m due there tonight and the only way to practice and make a clear comparison of what looks better is to use real people I can put side by side. And if I ask someone from the acting club they’ll know I waited last minute so….you two it is.” She flutters her eyelashes at him. Win makes a face. Manow’s poor time management is what’s keeping him away from one of his favorite things to do. She’s lucky he has a soft spot for her.

Team sighs. “Okay,” he says after an eye roll. “But you are one hundred percent not allowed to curl my eyelashes. I remember what Don looked like after that sleepover you had with Del and it was way more than four.”

Pharm giggles. Manow claps and pulls Team over to sit in the chair at Pharm’s desk. “Okay, prepare to get pretty! Also P’Win, I don’t want you to look until I’m finished. I want your honest reaction when you see him, okay?”

Win nods and goes over to sit next to Dean. “I can’t wait to see the full effect,” he says excitedly. Team groans.

“I think it’s all a little fun,” Pharm says dreamily. He’s seated at the foot of the bed and Win is very resolutely ignoring the way his arm hooks around one of Dean’s feet and starts to toy with his pant leg. It’s only courteous. “I think it looks cute.” He smiles wide.

Now that’s he’s closer to him, Win takes a closer look at the makeup. His eyes look even more doll-like than usual topped off with the dark gradient colors and the lashes, and there’s a light dusting of pink across his cheeks. The color across his lips works pretty well with it all without coming across as garish. Win isn’t going to lie and thinks, yeah, he does look kind of cute.

“You look very nice, Pharm,” Win says, nudging Dean in the side. Surprised that Dean didn’t nudge him back, he turns his head to see why he’s ignoring him. Dean isn’t even looking at him, and instead, his eyes are fixed on Pharm’s smiling face with a look Win can only describe as positively smitten. “Careful, Dean, you don’t want to flood the room with your drool.”

Pharm snickers. “P’Dean.” He trucks his hair behind his ear and gives Dean a shy smile.

Is this how he and Team look? Win can’t decide if he’s nauseated or happy for them. He decides he’ll pick both.

“Manow, what is that?” Comes Team’s slightly frightened voice from the desk. “It looks like goop.”

“It’s a jelly highlighter, not goop,” Manow says. 

“Jelly? That’s just reminding me I should’ve eaten before I came over here to get poked and prodded.”

“Poked and prodded, he says, like I’m not an artist. How do you get anything done with him when he’s always thinking about food, P’Win??”

Win laughs. “He can get distracted with the right stimuli.” The words helpfully remind himself that they haven’t done anything in nearly a week now due to Team’s nightmares and stress from studying, and in his annoyance, he rolls over to smush his face into the comforter.

“Was that a sex joke?” Dean asks. “If that was a sex joke, that’s gross.”

“You’ve been eye-fucking Pharm for the past five minutes. You can’t talk about sex jokes, thank you very much.”

Pharm turns bright red and Dean shoves Win so hard he falls off the bed.

“Did Hia just fall? Manow, can I turn around so I can see him struggle, please?” Team goes to turn his head and Manow grabs him by the cheeks to pull it back forward before Win can see what his face looks like.

“Team, stop talking or you’ll ruin the lip color.”

“It says it’s berry but it tastes like chemicals,” is Team’s mumbled reply. Win snickers.

After ten minutes of Team making varied noises of disgust at the different things Manow puts on his face, Manow finally makes an excited noise. “Okay! Team, you can turn around. Tada!” Win peels himself up off the floor. He’d been getting bored.

Team sighs and turns around to face him. Win takes one look at him and feels all the boredom leak out of his body in an instant. Team’s already catlike eyes look even more so with the eyeliner winged out from his inner corner to his outer lid. His cheeks look like they’re dusted with gold and whatever berry lip color Manow put on his lips is just barely there, reminding Win of how Team looks when he’s kiss bitten.

The arousal Win feels is almost confusing. He expected Team to look pretty because he couldn’t not, but up until this moment he’d never thought he had a thing for boys in makeup. But seeing Team with his lashes long and his cheeks dusky underneath that shimmer? There’s no other way to explain the sensation other than he most certainly has a thing for boys in makeup. And if not boys in makeup, then he absolutely he has a thing for Team in makeup.

“What do you think, P’Win?” Manow asks from behind him, clacking her makeup brushes together. She’s nonchalant like she isn’t at fault for making Win have this sudden awakening.

Win blinks. Team reaches behind his head to nervously scratch at his ear. “Hia?” Team asks. Then the kid bites his bottom lip and looks at Win expectantly through those pretty, pretty lashes like that isn’t the absolute worst possible thing he could do. “Do you not like it? I feel like I look kind of weird.”

Weird? Win keeps himself from laughing by the skin of his teeth.  A part of him wants to say exactly what’s on his mind, if not just to reassure Team. Because Win’s currently wondering if that lip color smears and how much he’d really like to test that out with Team’s mouth on him in some way, shape, or form. Or if that highlight on his cheeks looks just as luminescent under the lamplight in his room. Mostly he just can’t stop thinking about how fucking pretty Team is.

“Team, you look wonderful!” Pharm says, getting up to run over. “His eyes look so good, Manow. You did amazing on both of us.”

Manow claps and Team gives Pharm a smile. Win knows this must be killing him to be fawned over, but it’s what Team deserves. He’s still thinking about that damn lipstick when Team looks at him out of the corner of his eye and it reminds him that he hasn’t actually said anything yet, which is very much not good.

“I think you look great,” is what Win finally blurts out. Team raises his eyebrows. “Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

Team colors even further under his blush. “Okay, Manow, you got your opinion, you can wipe it off now.”

“You’re no fun!” Manow exclaims, pulling out her cellphone. “Let me at least get some pictures.”

Team starts whining again as Manow starts trying to put him in the best positions to show off the makeup. Win thinks that’s lovely and all–in fact, he has plans to ask Manow for those pictures after she’s taken them–but right now he’s at least half turned on and he’s hyper-focused on the fact his apartment is ten minutes away. He could just grab Team by the arm before Manow can wipe off the makeup, spout something about having a stomachache, and tug him out of the apartment. Easy as pie.

Before he can stand up, he feels Dean lean over to nudge his side.

“Be careful, Win, you should pick your jaw up off the floor before somebody trips over it.”

Win climbs back onto the bed just to shove Dean off of it.

3.

They’re getting their asses kicked. The swim team has definitely lost before, but not like this. The past three sets have been brutal, to say the least. Even on their bad days they at least come in third in their respective strokes but this time they’re getting bumped into fifth and even seventh place. Win doesn’t even want to know what the official ranking for the team is going to be at the end of the meet.

The guys sitting around him aren’t even talking like usual, just sitting there, dripping, with their jaws clenched. At the risk of sounding too proud, Win and his team have become pretty accustomed to doing well. This is like a slap in the face.

He turns his head to look at Dean, who’s sitting in a folding chair next to him against a column with his leg bouncing up and down and his goggles around his neck. As the vice captain, Win should be taking initiative to remind him that the team needs a boost in morale and his clearly agitated state isn’t helping that, but he looks so pissed Win doesn’t even want to attempt it. Especially since Dean placed fifth.

It’s especially bad since Pharm is not only in the stands watching but made a banner and everything. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Dean’s pride is hurt. He hates to lose as is, let alone in front of his boyfriend.

Win just wants the whole thing to be over. After Team got his makeup done, Manow convinced them to come to see the show that night, making it so they got back to Win’s room later than expected. The makeup had been washed off hours ago, but Win was still in the mood. He had been about to pull Team down on top of him when Dean sent him a text to remind him they had to be up at six tomorrow to get on the bus for the meet. So naturally, Win told Team they actually had to try to get some sleep so they would be well-rested.

He leans his head back against the wall. They only have on set left. It’s group four, Team’s group. He just has to wait for Team to go, and then they can leave. 

“Seems like you’re struggling,” says a voice from above him. Win lifts his head and sneers. As if the night hasn’t been going badly enough.

“Don’t you have something else to do, Pick?” Dean snaps before Win can open his mouth to speak.

He should’ve figured they would see the guy here. He’s the premier swim captain of Nakhon Phanom University, and he’s one of the biggest assholes Win has ever met. They see him at practically every meet, and since the beginning of the season, their teams have been placing points away from each other. Usually, it’s Win and Dean’s team on top, but tonight that just isn’t going to happen and they all know that.

“I just wanted to come by and see you,” Pick drawls, grinning as he runs his hand through his hair. He shakes the water droplets off his fingertips onto Win’s face, smiling at little as he does it. “Wanted to make sure you’re doing alright. Haven’t seen you perform this bad in a long time.”

Win almost snaps that they’ve never performed this bad, but from the look on Pick’s face he can tell he just wants Win to admit this is the worst the team has ever done. “Go see how long you can hold your breath or something. Or, I don’t know, go over there and be with your team like a captain is supposed to,” Win snaps.

This isn’t the first altercation they’ve had by far. Begrudgingly, he reminds himself that he was the one who technically started this rivalry after picking a fight with Pick at a bar earlier in the year, and the remorse of him and his taunting mouth is suddenly a living thing pressing heavily against his back.

“You sound a little upset, Win. But you’ve always been a sore loser.”

“And you’ve always been a dickhead. Aren’t you bored yet?”

“Considering my team has been beating yours in every stroke, I’m actually pretty entertained.”

Win sputters out a laugh. “If you had kept your girlfriend entertained, maybe she wouldn’t have left you.” It’s a bit harsh, but he’s not in the mood to get taunted tonight. Pick’s face scrunches in a sneer. Dean kicks Win in the ankle, making a noise. Win ignores it in favor of letting his frustration leak out of his mouth. “Oh, did you expect me not to know that? Word travels fast, I guess.”

Pick glares at him and flounders for a moment. Before Win can speak again to tell him to go fuck off, Pick beats him to it, “Bold words coming from the vice-captain who’s fucking one of his teammates.” Heads turn at that. “You’re right about word traveling fast. Which one of the boys is it?” Pick cranes his neck to look through the group of their teammates sitting on the ground next to him, and Win feels his anger unfurl beneath his skin.

He moves to stand up, and Dean leans down to press his hand against his shoulder. “Don’t,” he mutters.

Win makes eye contact with Team a few spaces away and tries to make himself calm down. Team immediately looks away, sending his gaze to the tiled floor beneath them. Win ignores the pinch he feels in his heart at that, like a sword tip pressed in and snapped inside his chest.

“Why are you so curious, Pick?” Win spits out instead. “Hoping you can be next?”

His teammates chuckle, and Pick takes a step toward him. “You little fucking-“ he starts, but Dean moves to stand in front of him.

“Go stand with your team, Pick,” Dean says. “You came over here to pick a fight for nothing.”

Pick glares at him. “Fine,” he says. “Have fun on the loser board.” With that he walks away, leaving Win stewing in his position on the ground.

Dean sits back down in his chair, taking a breath. Their only saving grace is the fact swim meets are loud and chaotic, so only people in the immediate vicinity heard or saw what was going on. That still means that Team heard it loud and clear, though.

The boys beside him have tried to start up scattered conversation as a means of distraction and Win is grateful. Team is still sitting a few feet away, not looking in Win’s direction.

He moves to get up but stops when he hears Dean’s voice. “Leave him,” he says. “He’s in the last group. He needs to stay focused.” Win can barely hear him over the cacophony of the crowd in the aquatic center, but he counts it as a blessing since that means Team definitely can’t hear anything they’re saying.

Win turns to face him and scoffs. “After that?” Win didn’t even know that people from other schools knew about him and Team. It doesn’t bother him in the least, but he knows his boyfriend. Team is still coming around to the idea of the people in their major knowing, let alone someone who will use the knowledge like a weapon against them.

“He won’t want to be coddled right now, Win. He’s probably embarrassed. Only the team heard it, but still.” Win sighs and pulls off his swim cap.

At the beginning of the meet, Win had been perched in his usual spot next to Team, pinching at his hip just to bother him and whisper mean things about the other team in his ear. But after coming in fourth in his top stroke right after two more boys from their team came in fifth, Win just gave Team a look as he got out of the pool and went over to sit near Dean, hoping Team would understand.

It’s not just Dean who hates losing in front of his boyfriend.

Team had seemed to get it, though, which Win had been grateful for. And now he had repaid him by getting him dragged into his bullshit. He shouldn’t have said anything.

“Fine,” he says, giving one last look at Team as he stands up to go take his mark at the other side of the pool. His teammates watch him go, giving Win a sympathetic look. He watches Team and the one other boy in his set walk around the edge of the pool to set their places on their block.

“If he can place third, we’ll come in fifth,” Dean says. Win looks up at him. “I did the math. There’s no way we can beat Pick or the other school that keeps knocking us out of third place, but if Team can snag third in this we’ll place fifth by a couple of points.”

Win sighs. “It’s better than sixth,” he mutters. He watches as their teammate Pin takes his place on the block, giving Team a small high-five. Team looks nervous. Like Dean, he’s probably been spending the whole meet calculating the score, too. He knows he has to do well.

Win wishes he had at least gotten up to send him off. He wouldn’t have said anything, because he really has said enough, but just a quick hand on Team’s arm to apologize and tell him that he’s proud of him regardless. Anything to offset the nervous line of Team’s shoulders.

If Team doesn’t place how he thinks he should he’s no doubt going to see it as a major failure. Win should’ve been paying better attention to the relay order and realized Team would be going last. Maybe then he would’ve caught himself before he engaged with Pick in the first place.

“I’m sure he’ll place third,” Dean says, reaching down to touch Win’s shoulder. “He’s good. We know that.” Win sends him a small smile.

He musters up some of his gratitude to say, “And you know Pharm thinks you’re just as charming no matter what you place, right?”

Dean doesn’t answer him, just huffs out a breath and turns around to meet Pharm’s eyes, sending him a small wave. Pharm grins and raises up his small banner, looking like Dean told him he won gold.

Maybe next meet he should make Team a banner. If Team will even be talking to him by next week. Win wouldn’t be shocked if Team drew away from him after this, sending all of Win’s hard work of getting them to this point straight into the garbage. Win sighs and knocks his head back against the ceramic of the wall. It’s not like he wouldn't deserve it if that happened.

The shrill scream of a whistle draws Win out of his thoughts, pulling his attention to the other end of the pool. Pin dives off starting block and Team is behind him, wringing his hands together. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

Pin is halfway down the lane already, falling behind three other boys, one of whom is wearing the telltale colors of Nakhon Phanom University. Win takes a breath. He doesn’t care about some petty rivalry at this point, he needs Team to do well for Team’s sake.

By the time Pin is three-quarters of the way there, Team is up and poised to dive in. Two of the boys of the other lanes have already jumped in. Pin finally smacks the wall and Team takes off.

There’s a long moment when Win can’t even see him, and he sits up onto his knees waiting for his head to pop out of the water. He realizes a second later that he can’t see him because he was looking in the wrong spot. Team is nearly halfway down the lane, feet in front of where Win would expect him to be.

From next to him, Dean makes an inquisitive sound, standing up from the chair. Their other teammates are looking up to pay attention, some of them craning their necks to see around the crowd of competitors sitting amongst them.

Win sees Team bob at the end of the lane as he flips, and he watches at Team overtakes the boy in lane one, quickly gaining on the Nakhon Phanom kid in lane two.

Their classmates who have traveled to come see the meet are going crazy in the stands, and Win stands up without even realizing it. Team is nearly at the end of the lane, and instead of slowing down, he speeds up.

In the blink of an eye, it’s all over, the referee blowing the whistle.

“Holy shit,” Dean says.

The clock from Team’s lane was the first one to stop, and the number blinking back at Win is seven, nearly eight, seconds under Team’s record for front crawl.

“Holy fuck,” Win whispers.

Their team goes insane. Win blinks up at the numbers flashing back at him and he feels his blood slow beneath his skin like honey, languid and thick. Team pulls himself out of the pool, not even giving his time a second glance. With Pin tight on his heels whooping behind him, Team walks back over to their side of the pool, quickly getting crushed by their teammates.

Win stays in his position next to Dean as Team gets overrun by the swarm of excited boys. He knows it’s not the time after what happened, but he can’t ignore the slow syrupy heat that’s thrumming in his veins. His baby is just so talented.

He casts his glance back up at the numbers, feeling his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. It’s not news that Team is good, he’s a starting first year with a scholarship after all, but eight seconds? Win can only shave two, maybe three seconds off after a few days of hard drills, and even then he’s been plateaued around the same time for weeks now. Win does everything in his power to will himself not to get hard. All he wants to do is drag Team in the locker room and reward him.

No. Team is mad at him, and rightfully so. He will congratulate him like a team captain would and nothing more.

Their teammates are still excitedly talking around Team, some congratulating him and a few making jokes about steroids. Win walks over and stands near him, hoping Team will at least talk to him.

“That was amazing, Team,” he says, hoping he sounds as sincere as he feels. From a purely objective standpoint, Win is in awe of him. From the standpoint of being his boyfriend, Win is nearly delirious with how hot that just was.

Team turns around to face him and pulls his goggles off. Even soaking wet with red rings around his eyes, Win is floored by how gorgeous he is. “You think that shut that guy up?” He asks.

Wait, what? “Wait, what?” Win asks.

“That Pick guy,” Team says. “I know we still lost to them, but we came in fourth, right? Only two points down from third. That should be the ranking now, I’m pretty sure.” Team is looking at him like Win is missing some grandiose point, like Win isn’t so turned on his brain is on the verge of leaking out of his ears.

“You aren’t mad at me?” Win sputters out.

Team sighs. “No,” he says. “He started it. He insulted you for no reason when you were already upset like a dick. I didn’t like that he said that in front of everyone but he came over to us just to be a little bitch.”

Win could do a thousand good deeds in his life, and a thousand more in his next life, and he still wouldn’t deserve Team. His heart swells in his chest and, knowing that he’s now allowed to feel it once again, his arousal snaps back into his bones at full force. “We all knew you were talented, but that was insane,” he says, reaching out to put his hand on Team’s arm. “That was amazing, Team. Really.”

Team smiles at him in that shy way he does whenever Win compliments him. Win wants to mark him up until he’s covered in a watercolor of red and pink. “Thank you, Hia,” he says softly. He takes a step closer. “You look kind of red, are you okay?” Team furrows his brow.

Win smiles. He’ll never get tired of his oblivious boy. “I’m fine,” he says. “Now let’s go and get changed out.” The sooner they change out, the sooner they can be back on the bus to get home. Win takes a breath. He has so many plans for when they get home.

4.

Except nothing actually happened when they got home. Instead of pulling Team off the bus the minute it parked so that he could go tug him into the shower, the two of them somehow got roped into a night of drinking. According to the team, they needed a little pick me up after the major beatdown and they wanted both of them there. Win because he was the vice-captain and he was good at drinking games and Team because he was the one who pushed them into fourth place.

Win would’ve most definitely said no if they hadn’t tacked on that the night was partially in celebration of Team, but after hearing it he just didn’t have the heart to make up some lame excuse. Team was amazing and he deserved to be celebrated for it.

The night had actually been sort of fun. Dean had opted out to go be with Pharm, which meant that they got little rowdier than usual. It also meant that they did more shots than usual, which ended in Team falling asleep right at the table. And of course, Win wasn’t going to do anything with him while Team was too hammered to hold his head up, so the night ended with him carrying Team on his back up to his room and lightly dropping him into the bed. He had tried to be annoyed with him at first, but when Team rolled over in his sleep to pull Win closer he realized he was physically unable to be anything but smitten.

Lying there with Team wrapped around him, Win had told himself that if his hangover the next morning wasn’t too bad he could try to initiate something then. While he wasn’t quite on the level of popping boners over ice cream cones or melting into a puddle over Team breaking a swimming record, his arousal was still a very real thing simmering beneath his skin.

  Except, in concordance with the last week and a half of getting cockblocked by every living thing, he and Team woke up to texts from Pharm saying he wanted them to come join him and Dean for some yoga.

Win had been under the impression that Team would say absolutely not and go back to snuggle in the covers, but Team had actually surprised him in saying that maybe some yoga would help his headache. Out of all the times Team could have chosen activity over staying in bed, of course he would pick this one.

Which is why he and Team were currently on their way to go do yoga at ten AM.

“It’s the best,” Pharm gushes, dragging his yoga mat behind him into the room where the class is being held. “One of my friends in the cooking club mentioned it, and I signed up a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been really relaxed.”

Dean, Team, and Win follow him into the room, their yoga mats slung over their shoulders. Ever since Pharm has been going to the yoga class he’s been talking about how nice it is. The other day he suggested they all go as a form of relaxation after the week straight of two-a-days they had. Dean said yes immediately because it’s Pharm and the man has no backbone, and Team said no because he wanted to nap instead. Win misses that Team.

They walk to a spot near the back and unfurl their mats on the ground equal distances apart from each other.

“The teacher is this nice guy named P’Pete and he’s really helpful,” Pharm says. There are about ten other people in the room besides them, a few of them being people who really look the part of what Win’s mother would refer to as ‘free spirits’.

Dean smiles and asks Pharm something about the class that Win tunes out almost immediately. Team turns to look at Win and makes a gagging motion, making Win laugh and try to hide it behind his hand.

“I wanna see Dean do a backbend,” Win says from his position laid out on his mat. “I think that would relax me greatly.”

“I want to see Win put his foot in his mouth in real life,” Dean says. “Since he does it figuratively so often.”

Win makes a mocking sound of pain and throws his hand to his chest. “Pharm, tell your boyfriend to stop being mean or I’ll cry.” Team rolls his eyes and flicks Win in the back of the head.

Pharm giggles. “P’Dean, please be nice to P’Win.” Win grins as Dean sends him a tired look before nodding at Pharm to play nice.

“Hello, everyone,” says a cheerful voice from the front of the room. Win leans up to see a cute, tall boy walk through the door and stand at the front of the room in front of the mirrors. He lightly tosses his mat onto the ground. “I’m Pete, and I’ll be your instructor today. I’m going to go ahead and turn the heat up so we can get started.”

Win blinks and sits up. “I’m sorry, he’s going to do what?” It’s already burning hot outside why the hell would they want the heat on?

“Turn on the heat,” Pharm chirps brightly. “This is hot yoga, P’Win.”

“Win, we were just talking about it,” Dean says with a chuckle. “Did you zone out that fast?”

Win sticks his tongue because, yes, Dean, he did zone out that fast. “How hot does it get?”

Pharm shrugs. “About 105 degrees. He might leave it around 100 since it’s so hot today.”

105? That can’t be safe. Team snickers. “How long do you think you can last, Hia?” He’s already stretching like they aren’t about to get boiled alive.

“Longer than you,” Win says. Team can be athletic when he wants to be but the kid has his limits. After all, Win has seen him gasping in the pool after ten laps.

Team narrows his eyes. “Bet.”

Win stands him and redoes his ponytail. Since they’ve started talking the room has already gotten hotter. He can feel the sweat start to dot the nape of his neck.

“Okay,” Pete says. The guy speaks so softly Win can barely hear him, but he guesses it’s part of the appeal. Before he can talk again, a ringtone goes off. Pete makes an apologetic face and reaches into his bag to pull out his cellphone. “Hello? I’m in class, Ae, I just got here. Oh, really? Okay, I’ll be out in a bit.” He turns back to the class and smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry, everyone, I need to run outside real quick to my car. Please continue stretching until I get back."

Like the perfect student, Pharm dutifully bends at the waist to touch the ground, extending his legs until they’re straight. Dean bends down about halfway before making a noise of discomfort and bending his knees to relieve some of the pressure. Win doesn’t even try that hard, knowing without extending his legs that any attempt to touch the ground while they’re straight will feel wrong and unnatural. Instead, he plops back down onto his mat, sticking his legs out in front of him and reaching forward until it starts to feel kind of awful.

From next to him, Team bends like it’s nothing until his ass in the air and his palms are flat on his mat. From in between his arms, he catches Win’s eye and gives him a smile. “This is actually kind of nice, Pharm,” he says cheerfully. He slips onto his stomach like it’s nothing, pressing up on his arms until they’re straight and letting his head fall back.

Win looks at him appreciatively. Before people know that Team swims, they seem to assume that he’s not athletic. Win can see how they would with how often Team is stuffing his face with junk food and shying away from any and all unnecessary physical activity. But after the first practice when Team essentially had to prove his worthiness to be on the team, Win knew that Team was the exact opposite. It wasn’t until later when they started…what they started up back then that Win realized in addition to his natural talent at being in the water, Team was beautifully bendy.

Win has quite a few memories of times he has taken advantage of Team’s flexibility.  Like basically everything else that Team does, Win finds it a major turn on. The crazy thing is Team doesn’t even seem to understand why Win finds it so attractive, and when he asked one time Win just said that it really gets him going when he folds Team in half with no resistance. After that Team had just choked on his sushi and dropped the topic.

He lets his gaze slide back over to Team’s thighs. Maybe all this yoga stuff won’t suck as much as he thought.

Pharm smiles from his mat and stands up to press his arms to the side. “I told you,” he says. “I’ve been so relaxed lately.” Pharm’s cheeks are starting to redden as the temperature increases, but the sick little cherub it looking like he enjoys it.

Dean makes a sound and goes to sit on his mat. There’s a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Win is starting to get so warm he doesn’t even want to tease him.

“Hia, you’re not stretching, you’re just sitting.” Team says. “You have to actually do things.”

“You sound pretty smug for someone who’s red as a tomato,” Win mutters. Team’s cheeks are bright red in that way they do whenever he starts to get really hot, and the hair along his forehead is starting to wave at the edges.

Team reaches down to tug Win up to a standing position. “Try to at least touch the ground.” Win goes up with no fuss, partially because the heat is making him malleable. It has to be at least 90 in there already. He can’t believe it’s set to only get hotter.

“Pharm, how is this safe?” Win asks.

Pharm laughs from his butterfly pose, pressing his feet together and his knees against the ground. “It helps with circulation and flexibility. It keeps your pores nice and open, too, so there are even benefits from your skin. You start getting used to the heat after a while.”

Win looks at Dean and his shirt that’s already wet around the neck and along the back. He doesn’t seem very used to it at all.

“Now that you’re standing, bend over,” Team says. “I know you aren’t flexible, but you could at least try. Be a team player, you know.” He’s enjoying all of this way too much for Win’s liking.

“Keep sounding smug and you’re doing twice as many drills as normal,” he says as Team presses him to bend at the waist. His legs start moaning at him to stop and remember he doesn’t quite go that way, and he yelps a little. “Ow, Team.”

Team snickers and trails one hand down Win’s back, letting the other wrap around his thigh. He leans forward just enough so that his mouth is next to his ear. “Relax your legs, you’re so stiff.” He leans away to step right up behind him so that he’s basically hovering behind Win’s ass.

Well, huh.

Win feels his head start spinning in a way that is very much not connected to the heat of the room. He could count the amount of times Team has topped on one hand, mainly because Team just doesn’t really have a taste for it. He’s made it very clear that he likes Win to be the one who’s calling the shots, and Win certainly isn’t complaining. It isn’t even the position, per se, it’s his stupid climbing heart rate getting higher still with Team’s gentle voice in his ear and his hands sliding over his body like it’s nothing.

As per usual, Team probably hasn’t even realized Win predicament. The kid will be the death of him.

“Try to reach down, but don’t overextend yourself. You have the joints of a grandpa.”

Win can’t even get his brain focused enough to retort. Team is still in his personal space, his legs splayed out in a mirror to Win’s with his hands lightly pressing against his shoulder and lower back. The heat seems to have stopped increasing and finally mellowed out, but Win feels like his head is starting to get cloudy. Team’s sweating seems to have activated his body wash, and the smell of clean mango is wafting into his nose.

How can Team not know how much this is getting to him?

He’s got sweat dripping down his forehead and he has to blink it out of his eyes. All he can seem to think about is how easy it would be for Team to just lean forward until he’s pressed against him.

“Sorry, everyone!” Win snaps his head up to see Pete reenter the room. “My boyfriend left his cleats in my car and I had the key. Now we can finally get started. Let’s go ahead and start off with stretching our arms and reaching up towards the ceiling.”

Team pulls off Win with a squeeze to his shoulder and goes to stand up. “Come on, Hia, class is only just starting,” he teases.

Win twists to look at him and looks back down between his legs. He’s not standing up for the next few minutes if he has anything to say about it. “I have a cramp in my leg,” he says instead. “Probably from you pushing on it so much. I’m gonna sit for a while.” He quickly lets himself down with his legs tucked on under his body.

Team hides his smile. “Okay, Hia,” he says. “You can go ahead and take a break with P’Dean. Pharm and I will enjoy the fancy stretching.”

Win looks over to see Dean seated with his legs crossed and his face drenched in sweat. He’s hyper-focused on Pharm as he turns this way and that. Win wants to tease him about it but doesn’t consider it very fair.

He’s way worse off.

5.

“With your hair off your face like that you almost like a gentle, little high school boy,” Dean says as he walks up behind Win. Win doesn’t even turn around, just keeps his head buried in his crossed arms on the banquet table.

He hates the stupid suit he’s in. His hair is in a tight ponytail at the base of his neck, slicked down to eliminate all flyaways. It’s giving him a headache. He hates the uncomfortable, hard-backed chair he’s sitting in. He even hates the dumb, crinkly, plastic tablecloth he’s laying his head on.

It’s a cloudless Friday night that’s just the right amount of cool to warrant a night at the beach. And instead, he’s sitting inside this stuffy banquet hall, fidgeting inside his loafers. At this point, he’s just going to be upfront and say he’s in a bad mood. This is the eighth night that he’s going on without touching Team and it’s starting to piss him off. Of course, the stupid banquet had to be tonight. And of course Win had forgotten about it so that when they came back from yoga he had to spend all day scrambling to go find a suit instead of putting Team’s flexibility to the test. Of course.

“Dean, I’m already in physical pain there’s no need to make it worse,” Win mutters. He pulls his head up. “I feel like a monkey in a suit.” 

Dean slides the chair out to sit next to him. “It won’t be terrible,” he says. “The only want us here for appearances.”

“Then put a cardboard cutout of me in this chair and let me do something else.”

He looks around him at the teachers and parents milling around and the equally bored athletes sitting at their designated tables. The event still won’t start for another fifteen minutes, but Win feels like it’s been hours. He understands that his presence there should be considered a compliment. The whole night is a charity banquet dedicated to getting rich parents to empty their pockets for the funding of the various sports teams the school has to offer. To make it seem like it’s worth it, the University naturally asked their most successful teams to attend. They even went so far as to put up banners and streamers on the walls and deck out the stage with scattered confetti.

“The other guys will be here soon, most of them are coming together,” Dean says. “You just need to sit here and smile for two hours. You can do it, Win. I believe in you.”

Win snorts. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love the limelight,” he says. “You get to go up there and talk about the importance of sportsmanship and teamwork with your best, most professional sense of gravitas.”

Dean blinks at him. “Are you finished or do you want to keep going?”

“They should let me do the whole program. I have a talent.”

It’s five more minutes of him pestering Dean for the hell of it before the rest of the team finally gets there. Win has since put his head back against the table, waiting for the minutes to tick by.

“Nice of you all to drop by,” Dean says with an air of joking disappointment. “The thing only starts in five minutes. Wouldn’t want you to be too early.” 

“In our defense,” Pruk says, “some of us were so hungry they wanted to get dessert at the restaurant we went to.”

Win doesn’t even need to look up to know who he’s talking about. “I didn’t just want to get dessert, I had to. I was wasting away!” Team says petulantly. “I thought I was going to die.”

Win pulls his head up to turn around and quickly deny that Team has eve been at risk of wasting away, but his train of thought gets derailed the minute he sees Team.

He’s seen his boyfriend in various states of dress over the period they have been together: casual in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, cuddly in an old tank top with his hair still damp from the shower, nice in a pair of jeans and a polo from when Win took him to an upscale restaurant, and without a stitch of clothing at all.

The only thing Win had yet to see him in was formal wear.

Team is dressed in a tailored black suit complete with a black tie and freshly shined shoes. The whole thing fits him like a damn glove, and his usual fluffy hair is lightly styled so that it frames his face. No doubt Manow begging Team to finally let her get her hands on it.

He looks like some sort of sexy, mature businessman. Win pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“Win, tell them I would’ve died,” comes Team’s voice breaking into his thoughts. Win blinks to find that Team has already sat next to him and is trying to defend his bottomless stomach. Now that he’s closer Win can smell the cologne he has on. It’s the one Team’s father got for him months ago that he's never worn since he said it made him smell ‘too fancy’. Win had just snorted when Team said it the first time because he didn’t really understand his hang up, but now he’s grateful that Team has never worn it because the smell of the cologne mixed with Team looking good enough to eat in that damn suit has Win practically gagging for it.

“Win, I need you to defend my honor, hello?” Team snaps his fingers in front of his face. Win jolts.

“Sorry, sorry, you were wasting away, almost died, I’m glad you were strong enough to even make it back here. You’re so brave, Team.”

Team smiles. “See,” he says to Pruk, sticking out his tongue. “And this dumb thing is only starting now. So I got my sweet, sweet fried bananas and we still made it. This whole thing is meant to be encouraging teamwork, so stop bullying me.”

Pruk opens his mouth again, but Dean shushes them. “They’re turning the lights down, that means quiet.”

Win nods, “Right, right, shut up, children.” Team sighs and leans his head on his hand, spreading his legs a little more to get comfortable. The action causes his leg to touch Win’s from basically his mid-thigh down to his calf, and when Team pushes up off the ground to sit up a little straighter, Win feels the muscle flex through the suit. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mumbles.

Team turns and leans in close enough that Win can count his eyelashes. “You say something?” He lets his arm slip down and puts his hand on Win’s knee. Win knows that he probably only feels so comfortable doing it because the room is dark and everyone is paying attention to the sports director’s boring ass speech, but the casual display of affection is like a brand against his sensitive skin.

“Nope,” he grits out. “Just whining about how bored I am.” And about how much he wants to bend Team over the table and put that tie to better use, but he’s fine with only vocalizing the abridged version.

Team laughs lightly, the oblivious bastard. “After this I was thinking we could go watch a movie at yours? If you’re not too tired when this is over, I mean.”

Win eyes the hand pressed against his upper thigh and takes a breath full of cologne. “Yup. A movie sounds great.”

+1

“Hia?”

They’re finally in Win’s room. The stupid banquet ended an hour ago, and he and Team are both freshly showered and in pajamas. The movie that Team put on is playing on Win’s laptop and he’s even been watching it. Sort of.

He’s really been more distracted with the smell of Team’s warm skin and shampoo, but he knows the main character’s names.

“Yeah?” Win answers. “If you want a snack, I hid some chips from you on Monday. They’re in the drawer.”

Team sits up and narrows his eyes. “I knew I didn’t finish that bag.”

“If I hadn’t done it you wouldn’t have anything to eat right now, so you should be thanking your considerate boyfriend.” Win leans over to poke him on the forehead.

“I’m not even hungry,” Team snaps. He crosses his arms and throws his body down into the mountain of pillows, his mouth in a pout.

Win raises his eyebrows. “Wait, what’s wrong?” Pouting Team is very cute but only when Win isn’t the reason he’s pouting.

Team makes a sound and grabs a pillow to push it over his face. “I miss you,” he mumbles, his voice only slightly muffled.

Win looks at the less than a foot distance between the two of them. “Team, we’ve been together for like a week straight,” he says. He scoots a little closer and tries to peel the pillow off of Team’s face. “And we’re laying in bed together right now. You were just on top of me before you got upset.”

Team lets him take the pillow off and glares once Win is back in his field of vision. “No,” he whines. It’s then that Win notices that his cheeks are the slightest bit pink. “I mean…I miss you.”

“You….miss me?” Win doesn’t really get it and Team is starting to look very annoyed that he doesn’t get it.

Team sighs and jerks back up. His eyes are focused on the wall behind Win’s head. “We’ve been together for like two weeks straight, which is great because I love hanging out with you. I just mean that. We haven’t…done anything.” Oh. “And I know that it’s because I had school stuff and you didn’t want to distract me and then I would fall asleep and have nightmares which ruined any chance of something happening on those nights. But after that. Are you….? Are the nightmares and stuff starting to annoy you? Because you haven’t tried to do anything since that last night that I had one and at first I thought you were being courteous but…are you just so annoyed you don’t want to try anymore?” Team pulls at a stray string on the pillow. “And I know I can try to initiate stuff, but I…like it when you do.”

The longer that Team talks, the more heartbroken Win feels. “What? Hell no,” he says quickly. He reaches over to shut the laptop. “Team, I always want you. Whether I just want to be with you or do other stuff. Always.”

Team opens his mouth and closes it. “I put on this dumb movie I know you didn’t really want to watch because I was hoping you would try something like usual, but you’ve actually been watching it. So why haven’t you?”

Win sputters out a laugh. “Because the universe has been cockblocking me since that last night,” he exclaims. “When we went out to ice cream that day I got so turned on from seeing you eat it I got hard under the table.”

“I was just eating ice cream!”

“You were licking it and getting it all over your face and it was white, what else could I have done?”

“It was not all over my face, it was my just lip-“

“I’m not done, hush,” Win says. “But you’d had a really rough week and had barely slept so I wanted to just let you relax. And then I was going to try something the next morning, but Pharm texted about Manow needing you for the makeup stuff. Which also turned me on, too, by the way, because you really are the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen in my life and all that eyeliner made it unreal.” Team reddens even further. “The next day we had to get on the bus for the meet. And you were so fucking hot and beat your own record just to spite that dickhead and I wanted to pull you into the locker room, but we had to go back and when we went back we all went out and you conked out at the table.”

Team lightly slaps his ankle. “I can’t help it, Hia, I’m a lightweight.”

“Then the morning after that, we went to dumb hot yoga and you were touching me and stretching like it was the easiest thing in the world.”

“That turned you on, too? It was yoga! Let me guess, I did something hot at the banquet, too.” The tone of his voice is incredulous like he can’t believe it, but Win just raises his eyebrow. “Wait, seriously? We just sat there and were bored for two and a half hours.”

“You look really good in a suit,” is all Win says. Team chokes a little. “It’s so funny how you always say that I’m the one who’s a tease, but you do at least one thing a day that gets me going. And you don’t even realize it. I always want you, you dork.”

Team doesn’t say anything. He just pushes Win against the headboard and slides into his lap. All the bravado is gone from his face, replaced with the shy Team Win is used to seeing in his bed and pulling pretty noises out of. “I…didn’t know I make you feel like that.”

Win lets his hands settle on Team’s hips. “You do.”

Team tucks his face into Win’s neck. “Well, we have nothing to do tonight.”

“I wasn’t even watching that movie. I was thinking about how good you smell.”

Team groans. “Hia.”

Win just laughs and pulls Team's head up to finally, finally kiss him.