"Chanyeol," Baekhyun calls. "Help me out with this?" He's readying himself to climb on top of a spinning stool in order to reach one of the highest cabinets. To his frustration, he finds that he still can't get the box of colored shell pasta that Kyungsoo wants.
Chanyeol's presently lugging sacks of flour into the kitchen of a brand that Sehun specifically requested, claiming that it made the pizza and flatbread taste better. When Chanyeol asked why, Sehun replied haughtily, "You wouldn't understand. It's a chef thing."
It's too warm, given the heat of the summer sun outside plus the exertion of carrying fifty-pound bags of flour from Yifan's truck, especially since Yifan insists on parking across the street to stay in the shade.
"One sec, Baekhyun." Chanyeol straightens up to stretch and loosen his limbs.
Fed up with attempting to roll the sleeves of his dress shirt higher and higher, Chanyeol decides to strip off the annoying shirt altogether, leaving him in a thin wife beater underneath. It isn't doing him much good anyway, plastered to his skin. Chanyeol grimaces. He feels a bit disgusting and not in any way presentable, if he's honest. He bunches the material into a ball and wipes at the sweat forming at his temple as he makes his way toward Baekhyun.
Chanyeol gets the feeling that Baekhyun might think differently, however. As soon as he steps in, Chanyeol can feel Baekhyun's gaze raking appreciatively over his arms, a hundred times more scorching than the sun outside. Heated up and slightly self-conscious from the attention, Chanyeol coughs softly.
Baekhyun's eyes snap up to Chanyeol's face and his mouth turns up in a lopsided smile. He's completely unabashed to be caught staring while Chanyeol feels himself reddening and he hasn't even done anything. It's unfair.
"Good, you're here," he says cheerfully, like he wasn't tracing the veins threading across Chanyeol's biceps just then.
Baekhyun hops off the rotating stool and looks thoughtfully up at Chanyeol instead, and he can practically see the gears turning in Baekhyun's head. All of a sudden, the breath's being knocked out of him, soft thighs clutching around his waist and hands grasping none too gently at his shoulders.
Stumbling blindly for a moment with the weight of a person clinging to him, Chanyeol manages to recover his balance without dropping the boy in his arms. In that process, however, he finds himself much too aware of how close Baekhyun is, trying to catch his breath with his hands settled securely against Baekhyun's lower back, holding him closer. Chanyeol feels decidedly lightheaded; the thighs around him pressing a little too tight, his own hands a little too dangerously low.
"Liking the free show, Chanyeol?" Eyebrow raised, Baekhyun looks as composed as ever, if not slightly breathless.
Eyes wide, Chanyeol feels hot all over. "No!" he protests, "I swear, I'm not trying anything!" In a desperate attempt to get his hands as far from Baekhyun's backside as possible to prove that no, he wasn't liking the show, he nearly loses his grip.
Baekhyun yelps, hands tightening on Chanyeol's shoulders. After an awkward pause, Baekhyun tsks. "Since you show off those arms of yours so much, I thought you'd be stronger."
"I wasn't showing off," Chanyeol says defensively. "I could say something about you and your jeans if you want to talk about showing off," he retorts, ears pink nonetheless.
Baekhyun grins. "I never said I didn't enjoy it."
He's settled comfortably now, legs locked around Chanyeol's waist and this whole scene can get misinterpreted very easily, Chanyeol thinks.
"And if you think I'm showing off, you must be watching then." Baekhyun hums through Chanyeol's ensuing silence. "Not that I blame you, of course." He wiggles teasingly in Chanyeol's hold.
Chanyeol moves toward the counter without warning, earning him another surprised yelp from Baekhyun. Satisfied, he shifts Baekhyun up a little higher so he can finally pick up the box of pasta. Chanyeol really doesn't get why Kyungsoo has to have that exact box.
When he lets Baekhyun down with a pasta box in hand, Baekhyun drags his fingertips down Chanyeol's bicep, feather-light. He keeps his eyes locked on Chanyeol's all the while.
"Thanks, Chanyeol," Baekhyun says, and the way Chanyeol's name slides off his tongue sounds mildly illegal.
Luhan stands behind the counter, watching skeptically when Baekhyun was perched precariously in Chanyeol's arms. "He knows that Chanyeol can reach that by himself, right?"
Minseok sips his coffee. "He's a sneaky bastard. Probably wanted to see Chanyeol's arms up close, with the way he stares."
