(no subject)
cotton candy warfare | pg-13 | 900 | chanyeol/jongin/kyungsoo
for brittany, kind of as a part of the drabble dump series. reined this in right before it got away with me. (possible nc-17 material to come later)
"He's gonna be so mad," Jongin's whispering, glancing around and looking for the source of his terror, all while shaking endlessly the can of Reddi Whip heating up in his hand. He can tell by the way Chanyeol keeps staring at him it looks like Something Else Entirely, which causes him to slow the motion of his wrist to a crawl. The air bubbles are probably all out of the can anyway, and he doesn't know that he can stand much longer of Chanyeol's eyes tracing the contours of his mouth without accidentally blurting out what he's obviously thinking.
"He's not gonna be mad," and Chanyeol's hand is splayed across the soft spot of Jongin's back, warm and comforting and almost erasing completely the fear that they're going to be in trouble when Kyungsoo finally makes it home. "I promise. And even if he is, we'll just...offer to clean it up." Chanyeol's face is all lit up in that bright, dumb grin of his, the one that tries to say that the world is a great place with lots of naked girls and free beer and timelines where Do Kyungsoo will not brutally murder them both for spraying the entire kitchen with cans upon cans of whipped cream. "You know. With our mouths or something. He probably won't be able to refuse that."
The qualifier there scares Jongin even more.
Still, he pushes the thought aside, shaking his head brusquely and pressing the pad of his finger to the base of the spout on the can. "You ready?" he asks, voice quivering a bit; he straightens up and locks his elbows into his sides.
Chanyeol doesn't even wait for any kind of cue, though, just kind of goes for it, arm thrust out, spraying whipped cream right into Jongin's face. When Jongin can see again, he's firing away, missing horribly, instead marking up the wall just to the left of Chanyeol's head with a giant puddle.
The battle turns into a blind rage pretty damn fast, each of them grabbing their intended ammunition from the counter. Chanyeol's the dork who grabs two-cans, yelling "DUAL-WIELDING" at the top of his lungs like it's going to do something about his ability to win. He practically tackles Jongin, pins him to the wall while he's smushing a giant handful of whip into the boy's hair. Jongin wriggles out of the hold, using the pantry door as cover for himself, just barely dodging a couple of crucial shots that probably would've taken him out.
They're both breathing heavy, sweat beading on their foreheads and melting bits of cream that had previously adhered to their skin. The microwave is covered, the refrigerator drenched, the floor coated with sticky-sweet white fluff. Then Chanyeol's unfortunate enough to slip in the stuff, fall flat on his ass, and Jongin's laughing evilly, the ball of his foot pressed against the hard line of Chanyeol's sternum. "Do you surrender?" he asks, all playing the role of the evil villain, peering down his nose at the older, his weapon pointed straight in Chanyeol's eye.
"I SURRENDER," Chanyeol gasps out, dropping one of his two cans and covering his face with the now-free hand. "You win, Kim Jongin. You're amazing. You're a champion." He wraps his fingers tightly around the boy atop him's ankle, tugging him down carefully, not letting him fall too hard without his own body there to cushion the blow. When they're safely entangled in one another's arms, no added injury to insult, lips smushed together in a sweet, sweet victory kiss, Jongin rests his fingers, sore from pushing down on the whipped cream lever, at the small of Chanyeol's back.
"He's gonna kill us," he mumbles against the older's lips, taking one between his own and tugging at it gently, as if that's gonna distract from the threat of doom looming over their heads.
"He's not gonna kill us, babe," Chanyeol reassures him, shifting so that their foreheads rest against one another.
Except then the front door to the apartment swings open, and they both freeze, obviously pondering as to whether or not their little 'disagreement' had made it past the boundaries of the kitchen.
"Guys...?" they hear Kyungsoo calling, and it's all they can do to scramble to their feet, which is highly counterproductive considering the fact that they both end up in a heap on the floor, unable to do anything about the, um, situation.
Kyungsoo's staring at them with his head lowered, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his pants, watching, waiting for the first sign of weakness so that he might dig his claws in. They are so busted. "What happened?" he asks softly, heart-shaped mouth pushing outwards so as to make him seem cute and non-threatening.
"We, um, we made a mess," Chanyeol confesses, somehow suddenly breathless. Again. Or maybe that's just the intense heart palpitations he's experiencing.
"Do you wanna clean it up for us?" And Jongin's sitting up, grinning like a complete idiot, eyebrows waggling suggestively, something he clearly learned from Chanyeol's wheelhouse. "You know, with your mouth or something?"
Chanyeol nudges Jongin with an elbow, trying to get him to stop, let him know it'd been more of a joke than an actual suggestion, but Kyungsoo's stooping to meet the both of them, scooping up two handfuls of wilting whipped cream and smashing his palms against both their faces. "Idiots," he mumbles, grinning despite the sentiment. "I'll help you clean up whatever you'd like."
for brittany, kind of as a part of the drabble dump series. reined this in right before it got away with me. (possible nc-17 material to come later)
"He's gonna be so mad," Jongin's whispering, glancing around and looking for the source of his terror, all while shaking endlessly the can of Reddi Whip heating up in his hand. He can tell by the way Chanyeol keeps staring at him it looks like Something Else Entirely, which causes him to slow the motion of his wrist to a crawl. The air bubbles are probably all out of the can anyway, and he doesn't know that he can stand much longer of Chanyeol's eyes tracing the contours of his mouth without accidentally blurting out what he's obviously thinking.
"He's not gonna be mad," and Chanyeol's hand is splayed across the soft spot of Jongin's back, warm and comforting and almost erasing completely the fear that they're going to be in trouble when Kyungsoo finally makes it home. "I promise. And even if he is, we'll just...offer to clean it up." Chanyeol's face is all lit up in that bright, dumb grin of his, the one that tries to say that the world is a great place with lots of naked girls and free beer and timelines where Do Kyungsoo will not brutally murder them both for spraying the entire kitchen with cans upon cans of whipped cream. "You know. With our mouths or something. He probably won't be able to refuse that."
The qualifier there scares Jongin even more.
Still, he pushes the thought aside, shaking his head brusquely and pressing the pad of his finger to the base of the spout on the can. "You ready?" he asks, voice quivering a bit; he straightens up and locks his elbows into his sides.
Chanyeol doesn't even wait for any kind of cue, though, just kind of goes for it, arm thrust out, spraying whipped cream right into Jongin's face. When Jongin can see again, he's firing away, missing horribly, instead marking up the wall just to the left of Chanyeol's head with a giant puddle.
The battle turns into a blind rage pretty damn fast, each of them grabbing their intended ammunition from the counter. Chanyeol's the dork who grabs two-cans, yelling "DUAL-WIELDING" at the top of his lungs like it's going to do something about his ability to win. He practically tackles Jongin, pins him to the wall while he's smushing a giant handful of whip into the boy's hair. Jongin wriggles out of the hold, using the pantry door as cover for himself, just barely dodging a couple of crucial shots that probably would've taken him out.
They're both breathing heavy, sweat beading on their foreheads and melting bits of cream that had previously adhered to their skin. The microwave is covered, the refrigerator drenched, the floor coated with sticky-sweet white fluff. Then Chanyeol's unfortunate enough to slip in the stuff, fall flat on his ass, and Jongin's laughing evilly, the ball of his foot pressed against the hard line of Chanyeol's sternum. "Do you surrender?" he asks, all playing the role of the evil villain, peering down his nose at the older, his weapon pointed straight in Chanyeol's eye.
"I SURRENDER," Chanyeol gasps out, dropping one of his two cans and covering his face with the now-free hand. "You win, Kim Jongin. You're amazing. You're a champion." He wraps his fingers tightly around the boy atop him's ankle, tugging him down carefully, not letting him fall too hard without his own body there to cushion the blow. When they're safely entangled in one another's arms, no added injury to insult, lips smushed together in a sweet, sweet victory kiss, Jongin rests his fingers, sore from pushing down on the whipped cream lever, at the small of Chanyeol's back.
"He's gonna kill us," he mumbles against the older's lips, taking one between his own and tugging at it gently, as if that's gonna distract from the threat of doom looming over their heads.
"He's not gonna kill us, babe," Chanyeol reassures him, shifting so that their foreheads rest against one another.
Except then the front door to the apartment swings open, and they both freeze, obviously pondering as to whether or not their little 'disagreement' had made it past the boundaries of the kitchen.
"Guys...?" they hear Kyungsoo calling, and it's all they can do to scramble to their feet, which is highly counterproductive considering the fact that they both end up in a heap on the floor, unable to do anything about the, um, situation.
Kyungsoo's staring at them with his head lowered, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his pants, watching, waiting for the first sign of weakness so that he might dig his claws in. They are so busted. "What happened?" he asks softly, heart-shaped mouth pushing outwards so as to make him seem cute and non-threatening.
"We, um, we made a mess," Chanyeol confesses, somehow suddenly breathless. Again. Or maybe that's just the intense heart palpitations he's experiencing.
"Do you wanna clean it up for us?" And Jongin's sitting up, grinning like a complete idiot, eyebrows waggling suggestively, something he clearly learned from Chanyeol's wheelhouse. "You know, with your mouth or something?"
Chanyeol nudges Jongin with an elbow, trying to get him to stop, let him know it'd been more of a joke than an actual suggestion, but Kyungsoo's stooping to meet the both of them, scooping up two handfuls of wilting whipped cream and smashing his palms against both their faces. "Idiots," he mumbles, grinning despite the sentiment. "I'll help you clean up whatever you'd like."