(no) Strings Attached

Still Means Nothing

Walking back to the frozen in place Wooyoung, the older took a long sip of the coffee before handing it over.

"Hey!"

"Shh, let's go. The stores won't wait for you" San cooed, his hand on the lower of Wooyoung's back, leading him the way out.

San decided to be useful for once, offering to use his car rather than take public transportation. And if Wooyoung wasn't petty, he'd probably thank him for it.

Instead, he snorted and mumbled, "You have to drive me if you're gonna annoy me first thing in the morning."

San just chuckled, slapping Wooyoung's ass as he climbed into the passenger seat. The choked gasp it earned was exactly what made it worth it.

The ride was quiet—and thankfully quick. In less than half an hour, they were roaming the aisles of a home decor store. Wooyoung kept one step ahead, scanning shelves with laser focus, hunting for the single reason he got out of bed today.

Meanwhile, San trailed behind, stopping at random items and calling out to Wooyoung every few minutes with commentary that was increasingly unnecessary.

"San, shut up," Wooyoung cried out, barely turning around. "If you're not gonna be helpful, don't open that mouth."

"Want me to show you all the types of help this mouth can provide?" San grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

An elderly woman beside them shot them a horrified glance, clearly regretting all her life choices up to this moment.

Wooyoung blushed violently, smacking San's arm as he hissed, "God, stop," before sprinting off toward the lamp section.

San just laughed and picked up the pace, already plotting how to get under his skin again.

"Get over here!"

San looked up, spotting Wooyoung a few aisles away, waving him over with clear urgency.

"What?" he asked lazily, voice dripping with boredom.

"Which one's better?"

Each of Wooyoung's hands held a nearly identical desk lamp, and he looked genuinely torn.

"Do you really need my opinion for this?"

"Yes," Wooyoung snapped, holding the two identical desk lamps higher. "You're annoying, but you've got taste."

San smirked, tossing a stress ball from the discount bin in the air. "You sure it's not just an excuse to talk to me again?"

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. "Yes, San. I couldn't possibly choose between chrome and brushed nickel without your moral support."

"Oh, I'd love to give you moral support," San purred, stepping in close. "Right over that desk of yours."

"San," Wooyoung warned.

"Say my name again."

"I swear to—"

But San was already halfway onto one of the display beds, laying across it like he owned the place. "We should christen this one."

"In what world would I let you fuck me in an IKEA?"

"Mm, we both know it wouldn't take that much convincing."

Wooyoung slammed a lamp into the cart.
"Shut up and help me pick throw pillows."

San sighed dramatically but complied, tossing one into the cart that was wildly off-theme.

"That's leopard print," Wooyoung deadpanned.

"It's called personality, Woo."

"It's called you're never invited to my dorm again."