Over the course of a month and a half, the initial rush of customers for the grand opening lessened to a more manageable crowd. Some days were slow, especially as the lunch shift was finishing. Today is one of those days.
"Oops." Jongdae smacks right into Chanyeol as he hurries past with a pitcher of cold water. "Sorry," Jongdae says sheepishly.
Chanyeol waves him off. "It's fine, I'll just go clean up. Can you get Tao to cover my tables for a minute?"
He moves under the counter to grab a towel when he realizes that Jongdae hasn't moved. Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. "Can I help you with something?"
"Nope. Just stay right there." The devious grin on Jongdae's face grows. He promptly dumps about half the remaining water in the pitcher down Chanyeol's front as Chanyeol stays frozen in shock. It's cold. "Oh my, whatever will I do?" Jongdae says very unconvincingly.
Chanyeol closes his eyes. "Jongdae, I swear-"
"Baekhyun! There you are," Jongdae exclaims. He drags over a confused-looking Baekhyun by the wrist. "Here, I'll take your tray."
Chanyeol finds himself promptly shoved into the kitchen with Baekhyun.
"Clean him up, won't you?" Jongdae winks before the door is slammed in their faces.
There's more than a few seconds of silence before Baekhyun starts laughing. "Damn, you're really dripping."
Chanyeol half-expects Baekhyun to leave him like this. He wouldn't be offended anyway, because what really is there to say about this? But Baekhyun moves forward instead, close enough that Chanyeol's startled by his proximity.
"What are you doing?" he asks, panicked.
"Undoing your shirt. What does it look like I'm doing?"
Chanyeol watches as Baekhyun's hands make quick work of his buttons, and God, his fingers are pretty. He's almost too distracted to feel embarrassed. It's not like Baekhyun's trying to look anyway, gaze steady on Chanyeol's face. But Baekhyun's also not speaking anymore, and it's more than intimidating.
Baekhyun tries to peel the wet shirt off, but it keeps sticking to Chanyeol. He wonders absently what he did to deserve this kind of torture, skin tingling where Baekhyun's fingertips make even the briefest contact.
Chanyeol would be lying if he said he wasn't affected. Baekhyun's hands feel warm pressed against him, touch unbearably gentle as he uses a towel to dab Chanyeol dry. And holy shit, Baekhyun has his pink, pink, lower lip caught between his teeth, eyes flicking up curiously from beneath his lashes, probably from hearing Chanyeol's sudden hitch in breath. He's not even trying, and it's doing terrible, terrible things to Chanyeol's heartrate. He swallows hard.
Chanyeol only snaps from his daze when he registers someone speaking from behind.
"Oh," the voice says. "Oh," it repeats, much louder in comprehension. "What the hell. Jongin, you've got to see this. I can't believe Chanyeol, out of all fucking people, is getting rubbed up on."
"And in the kitchen too, you kinky little shits," Sehun says, almost in awe.
Chanyeol begins to explain why his shirt is wet and very transparent and why Baekhyun is here but Jongdae flings the door open to join in.
"Well, you know what they say." He wags a finger.
"I don't know what they say," Chanyeol says and immediately regrets it.
"If you can't handle the heat, don't do it in the kitchen. Or something."
"Or something," Chanyeol says. "Definitely or something."
