Just domestic bickering

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"...must be the beers."

"Definitely not the beers," Yang Yu Teng flinched, not realizing that his low utterance could be heard by the man sitting thigh-width distance beside him.

That short prompt could really bring light to so many other things but his brain could not really process other things except for the fact that Sam talked to him first, willingly, after so many torturous hours.

"I played soccer!" he blurted out of suddenness when he saw Sam's hand tweaked. He thought Sam wanted to leave or maybe change seat, but really, the man was just reaching for his fork.

"Yea? What position?"

"The one who tries to keep the ball from going in."

"The goal keeper you mean."

"Ha yeah. But I'm not good. Getting hit by ball over and over again wasn't that great."

"You're supposed to catch it," Sam took another sip of his drink and turned to face Yang Yu Teng. Their eyes really met for the first time that day. "With your hands."

"Then my hands would hurt too. I don't like them hurt."

Under the soft lighting of the surrounding outdoor lamp, Sam's eyes dropped onto the slender fingers seemingly dancing on the rim of the table. He had noticed it before, how pretty Yang Yu Teng's hand looked and how soft it felt on his skin, but that night was the first time he really truly saw it; even under the dark-lit sky, the green veins under his fair skin shone. Even the ring that would cost a plot of land he had put on the man's finger months ago would drown in the beauty that is Yang Yu Teng.

So he took those hands, pulling it close forcing Yang Yu Teng to scooch closer before caressing it gently, from the tips of the fingers to the palm, tracing along the lines of fate as he did. "It's pretty."

Ticklish at the touches he didn't see coming, his fingers twitched and quivered. With every rough fingers met his own skin, a tingling yet electrifying sensation gripped his entirety, yet he let the man trickle him by the merest, he didn't want it to stop.

Then his eyes fell upon the two opened cans of beers in front of Sam amongst a few other he didn't know drank by whom. A familiar scene popped up in his mind; a certain Sam which he had not met for a while. But it was only two cans; Sam couldn't possibly already be drunk but it sure appeared that way.

"Zi Hong, are you-" his words clipped by a soft grunt. Before he knew it, that lips that refused to speak to him fell onto his, rushed and fervent. He kissed back, hearing the rustle from the seats opposite that was their friends slipping away to give them privacy.

Sweet, Sam's mouth would've tasted sweeter if not for the kiss that only lasted fifteen seconds. He whined yet the soft whisper that came next brought a smile on his lips. "You're pretty."

"Maybe it's because you're drunk," the dark eyes inches away from his own flittered, gazing his lips as they moves.

Shaking his head, the man placed a short kiss on his cheek, one on both sides before tugging his chin up with one finger and kissed there too. "It doesn't matter when, you're always pretty."

"Even when I made you mad and cause you trouble?"

From how Sam's lashes flutter and the white in his eyes became wider, it looked as though the question was a mistake. The distance between their faces grew wider as Sam turned and casted his view afar towards the open field a level below.

"You're pretty nonetheless." But the words spoken already broke Yang Yu Teng's anticipation.

"You're mad. You're drunk and you're still mad," a sigh rose deep within him. He hated how the man was so consistent even when intoxicated. "I don't regret it," he continued, not letting Sam respond. "Just like how I ruined your wedding, I don't regret it. If I could turn back the time, I would've probably chose a different route but I'll still stop your wedding. Will you ever spare me glance if I didn't?"

"What do you want me to say—well done?"

"Why not? You're not gonna remember this tomorrow morning anyway."

"Then, well done," Sam praised grudgingly. He gulped another can of beer in silence before he stood and walked towards the house.

"I'm not done!"

Sam's cheeks were flushed, probably from the drinks and irritation as he turned to again face Yang Yu Teng who had followed closely behind him, oblivious to the pent-up frustration of the man that was about to explode.

"You've been through this yourself before, remember? All because of me! Why can't you just see this as something I deserve? I deserve this, Zi Hong. It's really nothing compared to what you went through."

He saw Sam's mouth slacked, as if his words came as utter shock.

"And it's not that bad. So what if they called me a gold-digger, a slut, or a witch? It's fine as long as you don't think that way. I just need you to believe me and stand by me, is that so hard to ask?"

If only Yang Yu Teng knew what went on in Sam's head that time. Wasn't it exactly because Sam had experience it that he don't want Yang Yu Teng to suffer the same? Hadn't he believe him and stood by him? And those vile words people throw at his husband, how could Yang Yu Teng said that it's not that bad when Sam could barely stomach anything for the whole day reading those words gratingly one by one.

"You're right. I'm drunk. I won't remember this tomorrow so let's end this conversation here."

"Conversation? It's not a conversation if I'm the only one talking Zi Hong!" Yang Yu Teng's jaw clenched, receiving only the disappointed look that lanced his heart as a response. "Fine! Whatever!" Yang Yu Teng busied his tremoring hands by picking up the dishes on the table, stacking them rather noisily on top of each other.

"Leave it, I'll have someone come and clean that up tomorrow."

"It's fine."

"Leave it."

With a clang he slammed the plates in his hand onto the table, groaning. "I can do this Zi Hong, I don't need anyone else cleaning after my mess for me." Anyone with a working mind could see the double meaning behind his words and from the stern reply he received, he was sure his point made out of fit was well received.

"Yang Yu Teng," Sam's voice raised a tone higher.

"Lin Zi Hong."

Sam walked closer, "That pretty mouth of yours, maybe it's better if you shut it."

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