Retreat Means 'Run Away While You Still Can'
Title: Retreat Means 'Run Away While You Still Can'
Genre: Humor, fluff
Pairing: Kihyuk
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The sexual connotations of parallel parking. Kibum accompanies his boyfriend on a company leadership retreat, but he should have known what he was getting into before they eve packed their bags.
---
Masochism. That was the only way to explain it - the only way that Kibum could justify to himself why he dated an insurance salesman.
He knew the image that those words conjured in his mind, a fast-talking man in a fedora with a gummy smile and an odd accent, wearing an old suit and going door to door to swindle people out of their hard-earned money. The only thing Hyukjae brought from that picture was the gummy smile.
He had a better car than the old-time insurance salesman would have, for one. Not that it was sexier. Kibum always pictured a sputtering Impala with a wonky radio that only picked up one or two stations on a good day, but a car that would turn heads no matter what.
Hyukjae drove a 2010 Audi, but he treated it like a classic car. The slightest change in fuel efficiency - and Kibum had no idea how the other man could tell - had him under the hood, checking valves. If his foofy dog needed to go to the vet, it sat in its carrier, and the carrier was set on towels, and the car was detailed the next day.
Not brought in to be detailed. Heaven forbid anyone lay a finger on his baby. Once he got off of work, he would pull his little vacuum out of his glove compartment and go to town.
Kibum loved Hyukjae - he really did. And he did happen to believe that love was a study of how much someone was willing to put up with the bad habits of another person - a person who got all up in your space, a person who you knew exactly where they had been - and sometimes still had no explanation for why they smelled so funny.
Because Hyukjae had to put up with plenty of things, too. The man was neurotic, and Kibum - he liked to leave sleeping dogs lie, as well as pajamas, old underwear, and books. He would let them lie just about anywhere, even if Hyukjae thought they should lie in dresser drawers, in the laundry basket, or in bookshelves.
Because he was a masochist, because he loved Hyukjae, because he wanted to spend time with him, even if that time was strictly regulated - those were the reasons that Kibum found himself in an equally dustless rental, his stomach grumbling as Hyukjae drove. Because heaven forbid they eat in the car, even if it wasn’t his car. An hour ago, they were almost at the leadership retreat in Pusan that Hyukjae’s company was making him attend.
They were still only almost to the retreat.
“They’re putting us up for the weekend at a resort for one of our major clients,” Hyukjae had said, his smile dim and uncomfortable. “Two nights and three days. I get paid for my time off, but I know you don’t, so you don’t have to come-”
Pusan. Resort. Off work. Those were the things that Kibum’s mind latched onto. That, and the thought of getting to this place, and getting Hyukjae out of his clothes and doing the uncomfortable, messy things that he would never admit to enjoying until the heat of the moment got the better of his orderly mind. And really, with plans like that, who was Kibum to refuse?
But Kibum hadn’t eaten since breakfast at six, when they checked their baggage and had stopped for coffee at the terminal in Seoul. They had reservations at a fancy restaurant, which they were now circling in the rental car, trying to find a parking space.
The thing was, Kibum had seen plenty of perfectly acceptable parking spaces. He’d watched as Hyukjae passed them, slowing down to consider the dimensions before frowning and moving on to the next. Meter, on street, in a parking lot behind a bookstore. Nothing was quite good enough.
“What about that one?” Kibum said, pointing out the window to a spot in an alley beside a tattoo parlor.
“It’s too dark. There are probably gangs,” Hyukjae replied, glancing around Kibum to the indicated spot as he continued driving.
Kibum just sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool window of the car. He loved Hyukjae. He really did.
Hyukjae was just one of those stupidly safe drivers - the ones who never got into an accident in their entire lives, because Kibum spent his entire life behind one of them until the passing lane opened and he could escape. The ones who never went a mile or two over the speed limit and still slowed down when a cop car passed. The ones who stopped at stop signs and forgot that they weren’t going to turn green to tell them that it was ok to go.
And apparently, the ones who wouldn’t even consider parallel parking between a “hoodlum’s big-ass truck” and a sportscar. There was just too much liability there for Hyukjae’s poor insurance-salesman soul.
Kibum had taken out his phone, and was trying to watch a TV show on it while he waited. But every show he wanted to watch, there was someone eating food. And when the gurgling, death-rattle of his stomach overpowered the monologue of the main villain Hyukjae looked up at him with worried eyes.
“We can try this one,” he said tentatively. It was one they had passed before, one that had been overlooked because of its position between the tail end of a minivan with bumper stickers from what had to be ten different honors students and a fancy looking import. The import was gone, and had been replaced by a smaller sedan.
Hyukjae’s face was a mask of concentration as he eased slightly ahead of the spot, and then angled the steering wheel and backed in ever so slowly. Kibum’s mouth watered as he imagined how wonderful grilled beef would taste, or stuffed and fried peppers, or - “Why are we pulling out?” Kibum asked as the car changed gears again and began pulling forward out into the street.
“I didn’t do a good enough job pulling in,” Hyukjae replied, angling the steering wheel once more.
In. Then out. Then in again. There was a pattern to it, a rhythm pulling out a little more, and then getting a little deeper into the space. But never quite hitting that g-spot.
And finally it was done - more painful than exciting, and Kibum slammed the car door behind him without making that comment. It was, after all, why he topped and Eunhyuk writhed beneath him like a girl, making all sorts of interesting noises. But saying that out loud was not the way to hear those sounds any sooner.
Those were just the odd quirks, the habits and formalities that had to be passed to actually get to the good stuff - past airport security and rental car paperwork mix-ups to swimming pools and backrubs and free wifi. Kibum was determined to enjoy the remainder of the vacation, and he’d make sure Hyukjae enjoyed it, too. Even if it was against his will.
---
A/N: lady_hanaka: Who you gonna call? And if you say anything besides ‘Asian Ghostbusters,’ we have serious problems. It would mean we no longer matches.
Genre: Humor, fluff
Pairing: Kihyuk
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The sexual connotations of parallel parking. Kibum accompanies his boyfriend on a company leadership retreat, but he should have known what he was getting into before they eve packed their bags.
---
Masochism. That was the only way to explain it - the only way that Kibum could justify to himself why he dated an insurance salesman.
He knew the image that those words conjured in his mind, a fast-talking man in a fedora with a gummy smile and an odd accent, wearing an old suit and going door to door to swindle people out of their hard-earned money. The only thing Hyukjae brought from that picture was the gummy smile.
He had a better car than the old-time insurance salesman would have, for one. Not that it was sexier. Kibum always pictured a sputtering Impala with a wonky radio that only picked up one or two stations on a good day, but a car that would turn heads no matter what.
Hyukjae drove a 2010 Audi, but he treated it like a classic car. The slightest change in fuel efficiency - and Kibum had no idea how the other man could tell - had him under the hood, checking valves. If his foofy dog needed to go to the vet, it sat in its carrier, and the carrier was set on towels, and the car was detailed the next day.
Not brought in to be detailed. Heaven forbid anyone lay a finger on his baby. Once he got off of work, he would pull his little vacuum out of his glove compartment and go to town.
Kibum loved Hyukjae - he really did. And he did happen to believe that love was a study of how much someone was willing to put up with the bad habits of another person - a person who got all up in your space, a person who you knew exactly where they had been - and sometimes still had no explanation for why they smelled so funny.
Because Hyukjae had to put up with plenty of things, too. The man was neurotic, and Kibum - he liked to leave sleeping dogs lie, as well as pajamas, old underwear, and books. He would let them lie just about anywhere, even if Hyukjae thought they should lie in dresser drawers, in the laundry basket, or in bookshelves.
Because he was a masochist, because he loved Hyukjae, because he wanted to spend time with him, even if that time was strictly regulated - those were the reasons that Kibum found himself in an equally dustless rental, his stomach grumbling as Hyukjae drove. Because heaven forbid they eat in the car, even if it wasn’t his car. An hour ago, they were almost at the leadership retreat in Pusan that Hyukjae’s company was making him attend.
They were still only almost to the retreat.
“They’re putting us up for the weekend at a resort for one of our major clients,” Hyukjae had said, his smile dim and uncomfortable. “Two nights and three days. I get paid for my time off, but I know you don’t, so you don’t have to come-”
Pusan. Resort. Off work. Those were the things that Kibum’s mind latched onto. That, and the thought of getting to this place, and getting Hyukjae out of his clothes and doing the uncomfortable, messy things that he would never admit to enjoying until the heat of the moment got the better of his orderly mind. And really, with plans like that, who was Kibum to refuse?
But Kibum hadn’t eaten since breakfast at six, when they checked their baggage and had stopped for coffee at the terminal in Seoul. They had reservations at a fancy restaurant, which they were now circling in the rental car, trying to find a parking space.
The thing was, Kibum had seen plenty of perfectly acceptable parking spaces. He’d watched as Hyukjae passed them, slowing down to consider the dimensions before frowning and moving on to the next. Meter, on street, in a parking lot behind a bookstore. Nothing was quite good enough.
“What about that one?” Kibum said, pointing out the window to a spot in an alley beside a tattoo parlor.
“It’s too dark. There are probably gangs,” Hyukjae replied, glancing around Kibum to the indicated spot as he continued driving.
Kibum just sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool window of the car. He loved Hyukjae. He really did.
Hyukjae was just one of those stupidly safe drivers - the ones who never got into an accident in their entire lives, because Kibum spent his entire life behind one of them until the passing lane opened and he could escape. The ones who never went a mile or two over the speed limit and still slowed down when a cop car passed. The ones who stopped at stop signs and forgot that they weren’t going to turn green to tell them that it was ok to go.
And apparently, the ones who wouldn’t even consider parallel parking between a “hoodlum’s big-ass truck” and a sportscar. There was just too much liability there for Hyukjae’s poor insurance-salesman soul.
Kibum had taken out his phone, and was trying to watch a TV show on it while he waited. But every show he wanted to watch, there was someone eating food. And when the gurgling, death-rattle of his stomach overpowered the monologue of the main villain Hyukjae looked up at him with worried eyes.
“We can try this one,” he said tentatively. It was one they had passed before, one that had been overlooked because of its position between the tail end of a minivan with bumper stickers from what had to be ten different honors students and a fancy looking import. The import was gone, and had been replaced by a smaller sedan.
Hyukjae’s face was a mask of concentration as he eased slightly ahead of the spot, and then angled the steering wheel and backed in ever so slowly. Kibum’s mouth watered as he imagined how wonderful grilled beef would taste, or stuffed and fried peppers, or - “Why are we pulling out?” Kibum asked as the car changed gears again and began pulling forward out into the street.
“I didn’t do a good enough job pulling in,” Hyukjae replied, angling the steering wheel once more.
In. Then out. Then in again. There was a pattern to it, a rhythm pulling out a little more, and then getting a little deeper into the space. But never quite hitting that g-spot.
And finally it was done - more painful than exciting, and Kibum slammed the car door behind him without making that comment. It was, after all, why he topped and Eunhyuk writhed beneath him like a girl, making all sorts of interesting noises. But saying that out loud was not the way to hear those sounds any sooner.
Those were just the odd quirks, the habits and formalities that had to be passed to actually get to the good stuff - past airport security and rental car paperwork mix-ups to swimming pools and backrubs and free wifi. Kibum was determined to enjoy the remainder of the vacation, and he’d make sure Hyukjae enjoyed it, too. Even if it was against his will.
---
A/N: lady_hanaka: Who you gonna call? And if you say anything besides ‘Asian Ghostbusters,’ we have serious problems. It would mean we no longer matches.