Chapter Text
Mingyu had been walking through the airport when he saw the little dumpling-shaped plushie.
At first, he’d found it cute, but hadn’t stopped or anything. Cute plushies were literally everywhere. And he had two hours before his flight, and he was starving because his last meal had been the afternoon before. He’d found coffee first - but then he’d seen a place with tacos and had gotten a table. Because real food was the goal.
And even if he’d regret it in nine to twelve hours, he’d needed the queso. And the three tacos. And the chips and salsa. And the two sodas.
He didn’t feel full exactly when he’d left. More like ‘finally’ - finally he’d felt like himself - his brain online - his body feeling pliable again instead of like a sack he was trapped in. So he set off, walking around the terminal, finding a magazine to read, finishing the coffee that was finally something besides scalding hot.
And that was when he’d passed the dumpling plushie for the second time.
It was in a pile of dumplings and bun-shaped toys, but it looked slightly different. It had a different expression and cute little closed eyes with lashes that the other dumplings didn’t have. Mingyu had sipped his coffee and contemplated this slightly off dumpling plushie.
He moved when someone bumped into him, and he’d made another circuit of the terminal before coming back to check in the dumpling again. He’d realized that’s what he was doing - checking on it. Like it might be purchased for something besides normal plushie activities. Someone who wouldn’t notice its silly little expression, who’d just toss it on a pile of plushies and forget about it.
It was made from a pale ivory material, with little pinked cheeks, little intense eyebrows over cute closed eyes and long lashes that rested just above tiny cheeks.
Mingyu couldn’t help going into the shop or looking in the bin of dumpling and bun plushies. He’d expected to find various little plushie faces. But no, everyone he saw was smiling, open eyes, no eyebrows…only the one was different.
Mingyu had stared for a moment, wondering if maybe all the little, slightly mad ones had sold out, leaving just the one example. But the display was full…he found it odd.
Or maybe compelling since he’d grabbed the little angry dumpling and placed it in one of the cute ‘pet carrier’ boxes provided for the plushies, heading towards the checkout stand.
He’d smiled at the cute pink cardboard box that folded to have a little handle at the top - little diagonal shapes cut in the side so the plushie could be viewed. He didn’t mind committing to the bit, waiting until he had paid to tuck the bun inside and give it a plastic sheaf of facial tissue to make the box more hospitable for the trip.
He’d grabbed a bottle of water and some gummy snacks on his way to the till, paying up and walking back towards his gate, eyeing the approaching boarding time. He wanted to be on the flight, headphones secure, eye mask in place, and not using in-flight WiFi, making him off the grid for the next six hours - he was tired. Even a seat in coach that he practically had to fold himself into contortionist-style sounded appealing.
Besides, he had an angry, sulky little dumpling plushie to take care of now.
•••
He’d been the first in his group to board the flight, passing up the seats that he might have fit comfortably in until he found 35F.
He always picked a window seat. He put his plushie and snacks in his seat and then set about fishing his headphones and eye mask out of his bag, and an oversized scarf to wrap himself in if he felt cold.
And then he participated in the time-honored tradition of fitting your bag into the overhead bin come hell or high water, cramming it into the overhead compartment between two overstuffed bags.
He’d sat, fixing his headphones, picking a playlist he liked to sleep to, wrapping himself in the scarf, and eating a few gummy fish. He kept the little dumpling on his lap at first, but then he’d decided it would be cute to take some photos of the unique little face while he waited for everyone else to jockey for seats and space.
He removed the plush, gently nudging its cheek, smiling as he did. He was careful, getting shots that looked like the dumpling was looking out the window full of longing and deep dumpling thoughts. He posted them to his Insta stories, writing “someone’s ready to be home…”
It was cute and maybe the start of an entire dumpling-based account – the adventures of the cute dumpling made Mingyu grin stupidly like nothing else had in a week and a half.
He sighed, tucking the little dumpling back into its box and securing the handles. Like any pet, safety mattered for travel, and Mingyu didn’t want to lose his dumpling in transit.
He held onto the dumpling’s box while he slept the cramped sleep of someone over six feet tall in an economy seat on an economy flight.
•••
Mingyu was jolted awake by the rough landing. He heard the soft bing-bong of the in-flight announcement welcoming him to his destination and noting that there was heavy rain.
Mingyu patted his dumpling’s box gently, hoping it knew they were almost home.
He stayed folded like a sad, overcooked shrimp until the lady with twenty-five neck pillows who’d occupied the middle seat finally shifted, and finally, Mingyu could spring free like a greyhound out of the gate.
He grabbed his bags and his dumpling and started the long walk to disembark, hearing the torrential rain battering the plain and the boarding bridge as he went. He walked through the terminal, almost excited when he realized it was terminal C - the one with an old fashioned candy place.
He veered off from the packs heading to the airport tram in favor of chocolate peanut butter fudge and handmade fruit-shaped gummies. He got a pound of each, deciding that he deserved it after surviving on green bowls and blue algae waters during his trip. So what if he went home and melded with his sofa for the next three days, watching mystery shows from the 2000s and subsisting on a diet of fudge and gummies and pizza and whatever wasn’t bad in his refrigerator.
There was literally no one to judge him for it.
He managed his candy and his dumpling as he went - clutching both to his chest on the airport tram as he was crammed in with everyone else heading to baggage claim. He didn’t care when his face got smooshed against the glass of the tram - it wasn’t disconcerting at all to see concrete whizzing past his face as the tram zoomed along.
He kept telling himself he was almost free from the airport. But there was the giant escalator and then baggage claim and then the long trek to the ride share spot…standing under a metal roof during a massive rain storm was questionable. There wasn’t much choice, though.
So he stood, tired, managing his dumpling and candy and bags while he watched a tiny car on his screen - his supposedly - approach and then make a loop and approach again….he sighed, selecting the color he could wave emphatically to get the attention of his driver.
Only to see his fare dropped.
So he started again with a huff. Tapping away, and finally - finally - getting his chance to make a mad dash into the wet.
And one step closer to home.
He unboxed the dumpling again once he was safely in the backseat of someone’s car, taking another photo of it next to the car’s window. He posted it with the caption ‘cold rain i’ll slip into a warm broth to revive myself.’
He smiled, patting the little dumpling, wondering how hard it could be to mock up a fake bowl of steaming broth. He balanced the little dumpling on his shoulder while he started researching paper crafts and stop motion.
Even if he weren’t necessarily going to do the thing…He could imagine the process and the possible soothing nature of some kind of craft.
He sighed, locking his phone, knowing a hobby would, technically, be good. But he never felt like he had the mental energy for a hobby. Instead, he hummed to himself and stared out the window, letting his cheek rest on the dumpling, feeling its soft little plushie body.
He didn’t squish the dumpling. More like when he was playing with one of his grandmother’s many cats and wanted to lean against their soft tummies - no pressure from him. Just soft fur brushing his cheek and the sounds of a cat purring next to his ear. But never would he ever squish a kitty.
So he didn’t squish his dumpling. Even if it felt slightly warm and soothing somehow.
Or he was just drowsy enough to imagine a soothing vibe emanating from the little plushie as rain pelted the car on the way home.
•••
Mingyu managed to get inside his apartment without being a total sopping mess.
But he still undressed in the doorway, dropping his dripping clothes on the tile before he crossed the apartment for the bathroom, starting the water so it would heat up before he got in. He was going for steamy hot - he wanted to unwind.
He came back to the main room of the apartment - an open concept of living room, some unnamed space, and kitchen - and grabbed a gummy to pop into his mouth as he unboxed the dumpling again, smiling at it. “We’re home,” he mumbled as he swallowed his candy.
He took the dumpling with him, stopping in his room to place the dumpling on one of his pillows before he jumped into the warm shower.
He groaned as goose pimples broke out over his body - his cool skin suddenly warm. He groaned with happiness, shampooing his hair and washing himself. He loved when he felt like he could finally get all of the airport scents and feelings off himself. And more to the point, when he was home and smelled like home.
He sighed, relieved, knowing he wouldn’t have to make another trip for a few weeks at least. And he’d taken the Monday and Tuesday of the upcoming week as a holiday. He needed time to catch up on sleep. To feel normal.
He’d stayed standing under the water for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth rolling over his skin. He breathed deeply, happy for the time to himself. He could stare into space and no one would ask. He could watch porn, or read a book and then watch porn…the world was his oyster.
He finally shut off the water and pulled back the curtain, grabbing his towel to dry off. He dabbed at himself carefully as he got out. He couldn’t remember where he’d left his robe and started looking for it…and not finding it, he walked into his bedroom.
And stopped – stopped immediately, his breath catching in surprise. His brain uncertain of what to do in the moment. Well, besides freezing because he was certainly frozen.
He stared hard at his bed…at the man lying across his bed - long black hair, streaked with red fanning over Mingyu’s pillows - pouty lips and thick lashes resting on just-barely-pink cheeks. He was dressed in navy silk - some old school design - ties and buttons and … some version of hanbok Mingyu didn’t recognize precisely because why would he when he was focused on the very real man literally lying across his fucking bed!
He stood still, blinking for a moment in silent shock.
But he heard the little hum come from the man. “These really are worth all the trouble,” he murmured in a low voice, seemingly talking to himself.
Mingyu glanced and saw the bag of fruit slices had been relocated to his bedside table.
He blinked again, annoyance coming back online in his internal circuitry, knowing he hadn’t brought them into his room.
The man sighed softly and turned to grab another slice, poking around inside the bag with delicate fingers. Finding a bright green slice, he nestled back into Mingyu’s pillows, taking a small bite from the candy.
Savoring it apparently.
Mingyu was still staring. But another satisfied “mmmh” from the man brought Mingyu out of things. He spied his robe on the back of a chair and grabbed it, pulling it on hurriedly, cinching the belt tight.
He walked over and snatched the bag of fruit slices. “You could at least ask—“
The man barely tilted his head. “You were bathing, and I haven’t been human in quite some time - so I took some liberties with your candies,” the man said, popping the rest of the candy piece into his mouth with a smile.
Mingyu folded the top of the bag carefully, eyeing the man who was relaxing like it was nothing at all to be in Mingyu’s home, much less his bedroom or bed. He clutched the bag to his chest.
The man, though, was still unfazed. He sat up and held out his hand. “Come on,” he muttered, making a small grabbing ‘gimme’ motion. It looked ridiculous somehow from a hand that was so frighteningly pale and unlined.
Mingyu’s eye lingered, though. Because the inner wrist was the same - milky pale and just the slightest hint of blue veins that suggested a human origin. It was inviting in a way that Mingyu didn’t care for - the finely boned wrist with delicate skin that seemed to exist for lips to kiss. Mingyu blushed slightly at the idea.
He still watched the hand extend towards him. “Please,” the man whispered, voice low and beguiling.
Mingyu whined and stepped back a step, just out of reach.
He heard the soft laugh, almost wistful as the man flopped back onto the bed. “Fine, beautiful boy, don’t share with your dumpling…” he murmured gently.
Mingyu pursed his lips. “Even if you are the dumpling I picked — I don’t know you — and you didn’t ask,” Mingyu reasoned.
The man stretched, taking up even more space as he relaxed on Mingyu’s bed. “Fine, fine let me make amends,” he said, glancing at Mingyu from beneath his exquisitely long lashes, his gaze meeting Mingyu’s.
“I’m Seungcheol, a deity - or a trickster, according to some, it depends on my mood, really - I’ve been asleep inside a statue in my own temple for some time - it isn’t especially nice or well maintained, though, because humans are tiresome, and I think my hiding got the message across that I don’t want to play anymore. But—“ he shifted around onto his stomach, tracing a circle on Mingyu’s pillow, his hair pooling in inky ringlets as he continued, “more recently, I kept getting random visits from someone who appears to go running for fun,” he whispered, an eyebrow arching as he spoke, “and for the last new year celebration, this same runner decided to leave some dumplings and some citrus…” he trailed off softly, peeking meaningfully through his long bangs at Mingyu.
Mingyu stared for a moment, his cheeks warming slightly. “I don’t run for fun,” he muttered defensively.
Seungcheol’s lips quirked at this. “Well, fine, whatever the reason - you left dumplings, and it was sweet — people don’t do sweet things for me anymore, so I thought I would put your sweetness to the test…” Seungcheol mumbled, still tracing designs against Mingyu’s pillow.
Mingyu pursed his lips. “Test me?”
Seungcheol shrugged, glancing up again. “Yes, but…not in some mythic way — I’m just curious…bored too probably,” he mumbled, reaching for the candy again, lips forming a perfect pout when Mingyu shied away. He huffed. “Humans change everything around them, but they don’t actually change very much - still, sweetness and kindness, I’ve always found those qualities curious,” he said as he made the same little grasping motion, stretching towards Mingyu.
Mingyu still clutched the bag of candy, scrunching his brows in an attempt to seem admonishing.
Seungcheol sighed and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed, folding one foot under himself - the other dangling just above the wooden floor of Mingyu’s bedroom. Mingyu noticed the thin socks Seungcheol wore - some fine fabric embroidered with a barely visible pattern…they reminded Mingyu of something from a period piece. Perfect for a deity inhabiting his room after pretending to be a plush dumpling, he guessed.
Mingyu glanced from Seungcheol’s socks to his face - Seungcheol’s soft gaze was focused on Mingyu.
“You didn’t ask for anything, Mingyu - you visited my unknown, out of the way, barely standing temple - more than once, mind you - and left an offering without asking for anything…it was odd and…interesting,” he admitted softly with a slight sneer - like it was a confession he hadn’t wanted to share. His gaze tracked Mingyu and the bag of candy closely.
Mingyu watched him, feeling like ‘interesting’ was doing heavy lifting in that small admission. “And now you’re eating my candies?” Mingyu asked. “The special ones I can only get in the airport,” he added.
He watched a slight smile form on Seungcheol’s lips, his lips barely pulling at the corners. “Then ask me for some - you could bathe in them if you wanted - a whole bath full, just for you, pretty Mingyu-yah,” Seungcheol offered.
Mingyu pursed his lips and shook his head. “I mean, you didn’t ask—“ he muttered - voice barely a whisper.
“I said ‘please,’ didn’t I?”
“That’s not the same - you’d already eaten some,” Mingyu corrected, softly. “And you could have conjured your own, apparently,” Mingyu pouted.
Seungcheol smiled then, leaning back onto the bed, resting on his elbows. “I can turn back into the plushie if you’d like?”
Mingyu huffed. “I didn’t say that—”
Seungcheol shrugged. “You were looking forward to being alone…”
“Just - at least wait for me,” Mingyu said, returning the candy to the bedside table, eyeing the bag seriously as he moved towards his closet. He ducked in, grabbing clothes quickly, not really trusting Seungcheol.
He glanced out as he pulled on some sweats and a long-sleeve tee, assuming he’d see those delicate, slender fingers teasing the folded flap of the bag.
But no, Seungcheol was in the same place, flipping through one of the books Mingyu had been working through before his trip. Seungcheol almost looked engrossed - his placid face focused on an apparently random moment in a Wodehouse volume.
“The Jeeves fellow, he’s a bit of a Jinn, isn’t he,” Seungcheol murmured without looking up.
Mingyu nodded, assuming the comment was for him. “There’s a television version,” he answered.
Seungcheol started to turn, his gaze still on the page, “Is there really?” He asked, finally glancing up, his large, painfully deep brown eyes focused on Mingyu like the answer actually mattered.
Mingyu nodded, nudging Seungcheol’s leg to make room on the bed. He only half expected it to work, but Seungcheol made room. Shifting in his fine silk, just enough for Mingyu to catch the softest scent: blood orange notes, patchouli at the edges…Mingyu glanced quickly to see the way Seungcheol’s hair pooled around him. “Do you want me to find some episodes?” He offered.
Seungcheol was staring at the page again - he nodded to Mingyu. “Can we eat candy too?” Seungcheol asked, voice gentle, lost in the comedy of language and ever-shifting fortunes of Bertie Wooster.
Mingyu nodded, starting the projector, watching it blue-screen its way to life.
“He’s definitely a Jinn,” Seungcheol whispered to himself, turning a page gently, before sitting up and finding his way next to Mingyu. His cheek landed on Mingyu’s shoulder as the first episode started.
Seungcheol sighed as Hugh Laurie worked his way across the screen - being yelled at by a judge and paying a fine. “Is this what you were doing when you didn’t visit me?” Seungcheol asked, voice soft like cotton wool.
Mingyu was leaned back against the headboard, comfortable - he’d mostly ignored the way Seungcheol was pressed to him - silky hair against his neck, where Seungcheol’s head rested. The weight of hands the color of bone china winding in the front of Mingyu’s hoodie, and a leg thrown comfortably over Mingyu’s own.
“Sometimes,” Mingyu whispered, smoothing a piece of Seungcheol’s hair and barely placing a kiss to the top of Seungcheol’s head.