Fics like have we met?

Jisung watches as Minho tosses his ball cap aside and lowers himself onto his back. His eyes are immediately drawn to—oh damn, is that—okay, wearing grey sweatpants at the gym should be illegal. Flushed, he quickly looks away and up to Minho's chest, which feels safer for some reason. The material of his black t-shirt is thin, and it pulls taut around his body as he shuffles along the bench until he's in the right position beneath the barbell. His pecs are pleasantly round. Jisung swallows, distracted. He can see the outline of Minho's nip— "If you'd like to keep staring, Han Jisung," Minho says lightly, "you can make yourself useful and spot me while you're at it." Jisung's head snaps up. "I wasn't," he lies, trying his best to ignore Minho's charming little huff of a laugh and getting up without even questioning it. Once he's standing at the head of Minho's bench, he awkwardly holds his hands out towards the bar. This is a terrible idea. — Jisung’s workouts have gotten a lot more enjoyable since he became friends with Minho, the hot new guy at the gym. There’s just one thing bothering him: he knows he’s seen him before. And he will figure it out.

Fics like have we met?

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