anything, everything
yoochun/junsu
fluff & crack
pg13
4170 words
for shorichan
It’s not that Yoochun does it to fill some kind of nonexistent void in his soul, or the fact that he “needs” security in the form of human touch or even because he had one of those traumatizing childhood experiences that led to him seeking comfort in all the wrong places. Yoochun actually had a wonderful childhood, thank you very much.
Truthfully though, it’s absolutely none of that psychological bullshit that Changmin usually tries to pull on him before his nth drink of the night (after which everything will just get degraded to uninteresting rants about anything that pisses Changmin off and Changmin gets pissed off by a lot of things) and Yoochun just wishes that Changmin could see that. But that’s a little like wanting things that are bad for you. You don’t get them often enough and when you do, it just fucks you up royally in the long run.
“So you’re saying…” Yoochun pauses to splash some gin and tonic into a glass, sending it down the bar to a bleary eyed man in a suit before picking his sentence up again all without missing a beat. “So you’re saying that nowadays, in your fancy schmancy psychiatrist world, I can’t have sex just because I like it?”
Changmin is staring into a neon coloured drink that has an umbrella in it.
He hates umbrellas. Tacky, environmentally unfriendly things. Yoochun probably just put one in there to piss him off.
“Yes you can, Yoochun, I think human beings are the only things on this earth that have sex for fun. Us and dolphins, of course, but that’s besides the point. The thing is you’re not just having sex.” Changmin sighs as if he’s wearing the weight of the world on his shoulders, not a tailor made-to-fit-perfectly jacket. “You’re having a lot of it.”
“Is that a problem? You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.”
A paper umbrella is fished out and flung onto the bar top, trailing lime green liquid after it. Yoochun eyes it with obvious distaste. “Just so you know, not everyone has leggy, buxom secretaries to clean up after them,” he says pointedly but Changmin waves it away, taking to actually drinking his cocktail now. It has a hint of lemongrass and some kind of citrusy aftertaste that reminds him of dish washing liquid, not that Changmin has ever willingly tasted that before.
“Stop trying to distract me from your question to which I would have to answer yes, it is in fact a problem which in turn, would make it a bad thing. Not as bad as raping young children or swindling money from the aged but it’s bad all the same.” Changmin watches Yoochun mix a Screwdriver, skimping on the vodka. “You know the terms emotionally crippled and sex addict? And by the way that looks horribly diluted.”
“I’m not and for the record, it’s not. Stop being a bitch. Just because I-”
“Just because you like to fuck a different person every two days and just because you haven’t had a real relationship since…oh I don’t know, preschool? You shared a sandbox with a girl. She professed her undying love for you and you put sand down the back of her dress. The fucking end. You were saying?”
“But I like bachelor life.”
Changmin heaves another sigh. Maybe it’s because he finished his drink too fast. Maybe it’s because Yoochun needs a two ton truck to pull him out of the river of denial. Right now it feels like an unsavory combination of both.
“No, Yoochun, you like a life filled with multiple sex partners and one night stands in seedy places.”
“Changmin I work in a bar,” Yoochun says absently but Changmin is on a roll now, rambling psychobabble about the atrocity that is Yoochun’s lifestyle.
“-and remember that one time with that complete assfuck that chained you to the bed and I had to…”
Yoochun hums under his breath as he starts on a Bacardi Breezer.
“-unfulfilling relationships that end with you humping with the next thing that moves. Yoochun are you even listening to me?”
“No.”
“Of course you aren’t, oh I forget, with you it’s always crotch first and…”
But Yoochun is already heading to one far end of the bar, leaning across it-
“Well fuck me over with a toaster.”
-trying to coax an order out of one of the most stunning people to ever grace this little hole in the ground.
Besides Changmin, of course.
-
“You look like a White Russian sort of guy.”
“Oh?”
Junsu doesn’t quite…know…what a White Russian is (couldn’t really be bothered to find out too at this point) but the way the bartender is looking at him, Junsu supposes that he could have said that “No, I think I look more like a South Korean sort of guy,” and he wouldn’t have bat an eyelid.
“One on the house?”
Something white and sweet looking makes its way into his hands and Junsu is still trying to figure out just what exactly is in this White Russian concoction (honest to god though, he thinks it looks a little like watered down cum and ice) when the bartender decides that it’s a pretty good time to strike up small talk. Down the bar, there’s a well dressed man glaring daggers at him.
“I’m Yoochun by the way.”
“Thanks,” Junsu mumbles and lifts his glass in acknowledgement, Yoochun still looking at him expectantly. Oh. Okay then. “Junsu,” he manages out after the first mouthful (milk? cream, maybe?).
Yoochun beams sunshine at him and Junsu finds himself smiling back despite the fact that his drink tastes like shit and the weird man that keeps glaring at him is…still glaring at him. Maybe it’s just him but it also seems like he’s moved up a few seats too.
“So, Junsu.” Yoochun is cleaning an obviously already-clean bar top, intent on some invisible spot near Junsu’s elbow that no one can see except him. “You don’t come here often, do you?”
Oh god, Junsu thinks and mindlessly takes another sip of his White Russian. Oh god, he isn’t honestly trying to pick me up, is he? He forces himself to swallow and tonight’s guise is starting to feel a little overdone, uncomfortable even. Damnit I should have just stuck with the one from the bus stop for the night, think-
“No, I’m just in town for tonight, I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
There. Fixed. The weird man is practically two seats away from him now and obviously listening to the conversation. Yoochun seems to have noticed that as well, setting a glass of cold water in front of the man who just tips it over, sending dark rivulets running to the floor.
“You’re drunk, Changmin. Go home.”
The man called Changmin looks more murderous than drunk but Yoochun matches him glare for glare.
“You’re very drunk, Changmin,” Yoochun suggests in the middle of their glaring match, breaking his gaze to mop up the mess with a rag. Junsu clears his throat uncomfortably.
“I won’t be there to hold your hand when you die a horrible death from syphilis,” Changmin says darkly before he gets up to leave and Junsu stares at his retreating back. Yoochun has gone back to cleaning the bar top.
“I don’t have syphilis,” Yoochun offers as an explanation when Changmin is out of earshot and Junsu accepts that with an appreciative ahh. “Not that I’m implying that you would want to sleep with me which would entitle you to know something like that but Changmin’s a bit of a douchebag when he’s drunk.”
“Okay.”
Junsu is suddenly aware that Yoochun is staring at him and for a moment, he panics, looks at his hands to check whether he’d accidentally sprouted an extra finger or something.
“Maybe I was wrong,” Yoochun says thoughtfully and Junsu has taken to inconspicuously feeling his neck. No extra head. Hair still the same length. Eyes, maybe? Maybe one iris is purple or something? “Maybe you’re not a White Russian kind of guy.”
Junsu gives a nervous, shaky laugh that sends Yoochun scurrying to fix something more appropriate. “Kahlua? Whiskey?” he calls from where he’s standing, staring up at the shelves upon shelves of multicolored bottles that line the wall.
“I don’t know,” Junsu finds himself saying and regretting it instantly because for the rest of the night, Yoochun insists on having him sample every type of alcohol available.
And that’s a lot of alcohol.
-
The first thing Yoochun thinks when he wakes up is damn, my head hurts. The second thing is something along the lines of I think my left leg has fallen asleep and the third thing….well. The third thing that crosses his mind doesn’t quite have the time to arrange itself into a coherent thought because the moment Yoochun tries to move, he finds out that his left leg has fallen asleep simply because there’s someone sleeping on it.
“What the hell,” he says quietly and god so help him, there’s an unknown man in his bed. An unknown naked man.
Yoochun lies very still now, trying to remember whether he knows the man sleeping next to him but that proves a bit impossible, said man having buried his face into the pillow. Jun something? Junsu? Was that his name? Fuck his job and all the fun times that came with it. Yoochun decides to poke the man, having come to the conclusion that last night’s sex was probably too good to remember or bad enough for his brain to conveniently forget it, either way there had to be sex involved seeing how there was a naked stranger in Yoochun’s bed.
“Hnnmgh.”
“Junsu?”
“Hnng?”
Well at least he knew it was Junsu from last night and not some random drunk hobo from the street. And if it was Junsu, more likely than not, it was bound to have been good sex, seeing how-
“Yoochun?”
“The fuck?”
Yoochun half falls, half stumbles out of his bed, clutching the sheets to himself.
“Who are you?”
The other man sits up dazedly and Yoochun inches further away, fumbling behind his back trying to reach for something hard and throw-able in case the man-that-isn’t-Junsu decides to stab him to death or something.
“I…what?”
“You’re not Junsu.”
“But I am.”
Yoochun tightens his grasp around an ornamental vase that Changmin got him for Christmas last year, something tall and thin with Chinese motifs down one side. Expensive shit that doubled up as useless shit as well. Traditional Changmin material.
“You’re not Junsu, I know because I saw you last night and…”
“And I’m Junsu.”
The man-claiming-to-be-Junsu climbs out of bed now, picking his clothes off the floor and putting his pants on.
“Hah! I know you’re not! Junsu didn’t have such a fat ass!” The man freezes at his, one hand unconsciously going to feel his behind. “Oh my fuck,” he whispers and Yoochun barely has time to throw his vase at Junsu when he pushes past Yoochun, almost running to the bathroom, Yoochun following suit with vase in hand.
“Where the hell do you think…”
“Oh my fuck.”
Junsu is gripping the sides of the sink as he stands in front of Yoochun’s mirror, Yoochun looming up behind him with his vase.
“You’re not Junsu,” Yoochun confirms again just to be sure and Junsu meets his eye in the glass, holds the gaze as steady as someone with the mother of all hangovers can.
“But I am…” he starts with a desperate note in his voice.
Yoochun swings the vase.
-
“Yoochun it’s nine am on a motherfu-”
“I think I just killed someone.”
“YOU WHAT?”
“Well last night that man you saw, I uh…he. Changmin I have a man bleeding from a head wound in my bathroom but you see, he’s not the man from last night and-”
“…I hate you, you know that?”
“That means you’re coming over? Changmin? Hello? Changmin?”
-
Junsu doesn’t know what’s going on, except the fact that he’s waking up with blood down one side of his face and very, very bad headache.
“Wha-”
Something cold and wet slaps him across the face.
“Changmin!”
“What?”
“What?!”
Changmin shrugs and drapes his dish towel over one shoulder, Yoochun yelling at him to back to the bathroom to clean up the blood please and thank you. Junsu doesn’t even want to try and comprehend what just happened other than the fact that somewhere along the line last night perhaps between the sex and a vase making friends with the back of his head, he blew his own cover and ended like this. Yoochun is eyeing him as if looking at a moldy piece of cheese.
“I’m Junsu,” Junsu says, followed by a quick “Please don’t hit me.”
Yoochun doesn’t look too convinced and Junsu thinks that he would have liked to grab Yoochun by his ears and shake the fact into his head had his hands…not…been
“You tied me to a chair?”
Junsu has more than a bad headache now, the fact that Changmin has just wandered back out from the bathroom clutching a rag with what looks like his blood on it not really helping at all.
“Who are you and what did you do with Junsu?”
“For the love of god, I am Junsu, what part of that sentence do you not understand?”
“And what part of you aren’t Junsu do you not understand as well?”
Junsu sighs and today is clearly not that great a day. The raffia string that’s binding him to the kitchen chair is cutting into his wrists. His head feels like there are fireworks of the not-so-nice-kind going off inside. Everything feels too loud and too bright no thanks to the hangover that’s competing with his headache to see which one will make him throw up first. And to top it all off royally, he’s currently shirtless. Just…not that great a day at all, especially not one to tell the biggest secret of your life to a couple of household-object-wielding buffoons.
“What if I told you I could be Junsu and…not?”
“I’d tell you that you’re more batshit insane than you already are, that’s what I’d tell you,” Changmin snaps at and Yoochun has to wave at him to shut up; pulls up another kitchen chair to sit in front of Junsu.
“Go on.”
“Don’t tell him to go on, Yoochun, what is wrong with you? Just call the cops and…holy shit. Holy sparkling shit.”
“Now that’s something I haven’t heard before,” comes the dry comment from the splitting image of Yoochun sitting on the chair Junsu was occupying a few moments ago.
Yoochun has backed his own right onto Changmin’s feet in alarm and Changmin hasn’t even recovered enough yet to yell at him, the both of them a good meter away from Junsu when Yoochun finally finds it in himself to ask Junsu “Who are you?”
Junsu sighs again, Changmin making a pathetic meeping noise when he does.
“Whoever that you want me to be.”
Changmin is staring at himself now and Yoochun quietly passes out on the floor.
-
“So you can…change. Into things. And we’re sorry about tying you up and all that, it was Changmin’s idea.”
“For the record, it was Yoochun who hit you.”
Junsu is sitting at one end of the kitchen table, now untied and thankfully fully clothed while Yoochun and Changmin occupy the other extreme end.
“It’s okay, really. I think I would have done the same but…maybe without the hitting. About that changing thing though, people, I can’t do objects but I can do people.”
Changmin gapes openly.
“No shit?”
Something seems to shift in the air and Yoochun can’t help himself from yelping in surprise. There’s a petite little schoolgirl swinging her legs from her chair, smile on her face.
“No shit,” she says sweetly and it’s back to Junsu again, Changmin getting up, mumbling something about sticking his head in the bathtub for a few minutes.
“But why?”
Junsu shrugs and absently touches the back of his head, the pain having dulled to nothing but a half-hearted throb thanks to Changmin’s expertise at fixing what he called drunken-sex-wounds.
“You won’t believe the things I’ve had to do for Yoochun, stupid lovable bastard that he is,” Changmin had said as he cut out a piece of gauze, splashed some iodine onto it. “That one time when he thought it would be cool beans to get himself tied to his bed by some drunken jackass and that other time with that weird stripper from downtown who cleared out the fridge after he knocked Yoochun out with a shampoo bottle and I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry. I’m just a little nervous.”
Yoochun raises an eyebrow at Junsu, still waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know why, I just…can. Is Changmin okay, by the way? I need someone to change this bandage, I think I’m bleeding through it.”
Changmin walks out of the bathroom declaring that he isn’t okay but heck, he’ll change the bandage anyway, that’s what people do for weirdass shapeshifters that their best friends have slept with the night before.
“Is he neurotic?” Junsu whispers across the table when Changmin has gone to throw the old bandage away and Yoochun shrugs, kinda liking this Junsu person now. “No, not when you pay him. He’s a psychiatrist.”
Junsu makes knowing noises that gets cut short when Changmin stamps back into the kitchen to announce that he’s going to work, unlike some people who would prefer to sit at their kitchen tables and talk the day away.
“We can talk at the bar,” Yoochun offers and bullies Changmin into driving them there.
-
“So,” Yoochun begins. He’s dragging chairs back to their original places, Junsu helping him sweep up last night’s trash. “So. Shapeshifter, eh?”
“Eh.”
Junsu leans on his broom expectantly. “This is the part where you ask me just what exactly do I do with that, right?”
“Right. So what exactly do you do with that?”
There’s nothing but the sound of Junsu’s broom scraping against the tiles and Yoochun tries to concentrate on remembering just how many chairs this table is supposed to have. Six seems like too much.
“Pretty much anything I want to, I think. Crash company parties for free nibbles. One man con jobs. Things like that.” Junsu flexes his fingers a little before moving on to another part of the floor. “I don’t actually have a job and all that.”
“Want to work here, then?” Yoochun finds himself blurting out suddenly and Junsu pauses mid-sweep, stares at Yoochun for a moment before he bursts out laughing.
“Seriously? Like you novelty attraction and all that? Because if yes, then no way.”
“A little. To the seriously, not the novelty attraction.”
Junsu has gone over to dump his findings in the trashcan. “You probably just think I’m interesting, don’t you?” he says as he comes back to Yoochun, going to perch on one of the tables. Yoochun figures out that there should be only five chairs there but Junsu has gone and rested his legs on the odd one out he had been reaching for and Yoochun’s hand shies away to another chair at the very last minute.
“Well. Yeah. I do,” he admits and he’s glad that it’s dark in here, light only in the form of skinny patches on the floor from the strips of window glass, nothing to give away the blush on his cheeks. “It’s not every day that I get to meet someone like you.”
“You’re interesting too,” Junsu begins slowly, pushing the chair back and forth with one foot. “And it’s not every day I meet someone that knows about this but you can find out just how interesting I am without me having to work here, right?”
“Right.” Yoochun’s cheeks are almost on fire now, the fact that Junsu is grinning at him not helping one bit. “Right. So. Uh.” Junsu just laughs and tells Yoochun that he’s free for coffee later.
“My treat,” he says and Yoochun leaves six chairs at that table.
-
Five coffee dates (more like fruit smoothies for Junsu) and Yoochun finds out that Junsu is far, far more interesting than he’d originally imagined him to be. Junsu can’t change into say, someone like Angelina Jolie at a drop of a coin but what he can do is accidentally brush against the hand of the cute waiter who brings Yoochun’s tuna melt and-
“So you were saying- WHAT THE HELL.”
Yoochun almost drops his food and Junsu calmly shifts back to looking like Junsu, shamelessly picking out a piece of tuna from Yoochun’s sandwich.
“So I was saying, this shapeshifting thing. It’s not all fun and games all the time but it sure comes close to it. Are you actually going to eat that?”
“Well yeah, I would if you’d stop scaring me every chance you get.”
Junsu shrugs and steals more tuna, Yoochun finally tearing the bread into two pieces before handing the bigger one to Junsu.
“So waiters scare you now?”
“Shut up and eat.”
-
There is this one time when Yoochun asks for a demo of what Junsu does with his life.
“Besides, you know. Trying out every café in this city with me,” he tries to add flippantly but Junsu sees through the façade easy enough, barely masked curiosity in Yoochun’s face when Junsu drags him out of the café without even letting him finish his pie.
“Try not to scream like a pansy, okay?’
“Okay.”
But Yoochun still lets out a strangled yelp when Junsu pulls him into a back lane, bones of his hands shifting in Yoochun’s until he’s holding onto-
“Do you think my boobs are lopsided?”
Junsu is still holding onto Yoochun with one hand, adjusting his newfound assets with his other.
“Uh. N-no. No.”
“I can’t see y’know, from up here they look about the same but damned if I can ever actually get the proportions just right.” Junsu looks up into at Yoochun and Yoochun is staring into a heart-shaped face with doll eyes, shoulder length hair in soft curls.
“What, did I accidentally add an extra nose or something?”
Yoochun stutters out something vaguely negative and lets go of Junsu’s hand, the latter using it to smooth her hair into place. She even has one of those damned girly purses to complete the look, the tip of it poking out of her skirt pocket.
“Still not used to seeing me with boobs?”
“No,” says Yoochun curtly and Junsu doesn’t chide him for staring too much, just lets Yoochun ogle his fill before leading him out into the street again.
“Listen,” she says in a low undertone and she’s gone and linked arms with Yoochun, the latter’s limbs almost cardboard stiff. “Listen, whatever happens later, just act like how you’d normally act okay? I’m not going to tell you what’s going to happen in case it screws with whatever I’ve got planned out but whatever happens, act. Normal.”
With that, Junsu leads the both of them into a large-ish restaurant and plonks Yoochun onto an empty seat, orders for the both of them complete with flirty gestures and sneakily obvious footie played under the table that sends the waiter scurrying away. Yoochun clears his throat, unsure of what to do. Junsu just crosses his legs demurely and calls Yoochun darling with a lilt.
“Follow my lead,” Junsu hisses when no one is looking and she’s back to smiles again, toying with her earrings as she makes one sided small talk with Yoochun who still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s going on. Yoochun has to feed her sautéed carrots from his plate when the waiter comes around with refills for their water glasses.
“Darling, would you like to split the chocolate cake with me?”
“Eh?”
“Darling.”
“Oh. Uhm. Yeah. Okay. Cake.”
The waiter gives him a strange look that makes Junsu kick Yoochun in the shin the moment they’re left alone. “Concept: loving couple. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The bill comes and Junsu leaves her purse on the table, shoots a look at Yoochun that clearly says touch it and die before heading to the bathroom, accidentally bumping into a waitress on her way there. Yoochun can hear her mumbled sorry from the table and later when the bill comes, it’s brought by a grinning waiter in training, hair tied up in a ponytail.
“I’ll be right back with your change, sir.”
She leaves with the money in hand and a little something else as well, Yoochun catching sight of Junsu’s purse quickly disappearing into one pocket.
“Hey.” Yoochun half stands, meaning to call the girl back but she melds into a throng of people leaving the restaurant. Act normal, Junsu said? What would normal be, then, in a situation like this? He glances at the empty seat in front of him before calling the manager over to the table.
[tbc]
AN- omg this turned out far longer than I expected D: Uhm. Happy New Year, shorichan , sorry this is so late! Also a huge thank you to oldwillow_brook for putting up with my email spammage ;;
fluff & crack
pg13
4170 words
for shorichan
It’s not that Yoochun does it to fill some kind of nonexistent void in his soul, or the fact that he “needs” security in the form of human touch or even because he had one of those traumatizing childhood experiences that led to him seeking comfort in all the wrong places. Yoochun actually had a wonderful childhood, thank you very much.
Truthfully though, it’s absolutely none of that psychological bullshit that Changmin usually tries to pull on him before his nth drink of the night (after which everything will just get degraded to uninteresting rants about anything that pisses Changmin off and Changmin gets pissed off by a lot of things) and Yoochun just wishes that Changmin could see that. But that’s a little like wanting things that are bad for you. You don’t get them often enough and when you do, it just fucks you up royally in the long run.
“So you’re saying…” Yoochun pauses to splash some gin and tonic into a glass, sending it down the bar to a bleary eyed man in a suit before picking his sentence up again all without missing a beat. “So you’re saying that nowadays, in your fancy schmancy psychiatrist world, I can’t have sex just because I like it?”
Changmin is staring into a neon coloured drink that has an umbrella in it.
He hates umbrellas. Tacky, environmentally unfriendly things. Yoochun probably just put one in there to piss him off.
“Yes you can, Yoochun, I think human beings are the only things on this earth that have sex for fun. Us and dolphins, of course, but that’s besides the point. The thing is you’re not just having sex.” Changmin sighs as if he’s wearing the weight of the world on his shoulders, not a tailor made-to-fit-perfectly jacket. “You’re having a lot of it.”
“Is that a problem? You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.”
A paper umbrella is fished out and flung onto the bar top, trailing lime green liquid after it. Yoochun eyes it with obvious distaste. “Just so you know, not everyone has leggy, buxom secretaries to clean up after them,” he says pointedly but Changmin waves it away, taking to actually drinking his cocktail now. It has a hint of lemongrass and some kind of citrusy aftertaste that reminds him of dish washing liquid, not that Changmin has ever willingly tasted that before.
“Stop trying to distract me from your question to which I would have to answer yes, it is in fact a problem which in turn, would make it a bad thing. Not as bad as raping young children or swindling money from the aged but it’s bad all the same.” Changmin watches Yoochun mix a Screwdriver, skimping on the vodka. “You know the terms emotionally crippled and sex addict? And by the way that looks horribly diluted.”
“I’m not and for the record, it’s not. Stop being a bitch. Just because I-”
“Just because you like to fuck a different person every two days and just because you haven’t had a real relationship since…oh I don’t know, preschool? You shared a sandbox with a girl. She professed her undying love for you and you put sand down the back of her dress. The fucking end. You were saying?”
“But I like bachelor life.”
Changmin heaves another sigh. Maybe it’s because he finished his drink too fast. Maybe it’s because Yoochun needs a two ton truck to pull him out of the river of denial. Right now it feels like an unsavory combination of both.
“No, Yoochun, you like a life filled with multiple sex partners and one night stands in seedy places.”
“Changmin I work in a bar,” Yoochun says absently but Changmin is on a roll now, rambling psychobabble about the atrocity that is Yoochun’s lifestyle.
“-and remember that one time with that complete assfuck that chained you to the bed and I had to…”
Yoochun hums under his breath as he starts on a Bacardi Breezer.
“-unfulfilling relationships that end with you humping with the next thing that moves. Yoochun are you even listening to me?”
“No.”
“Of course you aren’t, oh I forget, with you it’s always crotch first and…”
But Yoochun is already heading to one far end of the bar, leaning across it-
“Well fuck me over with a toaster.”
-trying to coax an order out of one of the most stunning people to ever grace this little hole in the ground.
Besides Changmin, of course.
-
“You look like a White Russian sort of guy.”
“Oh?”
Junsu doesn’t quite…know…what a White Russian is (couldn’t really be bothered to find out too at this point) but the way the bartender is looking at him, Junsu supposes that he could have said that “No, I think I look more like a South Korean sort of guy,” and he wouldn’t have bat an eyelid.
“One on the house?”
Something white and sweet looking makes its way into his hands and Junsu is still trying to figure out just what exactly is in this White Russian concoction (honest to god though, he thinks it looks a little like watered down cum and ice) when the bartender decides that it’s a pretty good time to strike up small talk. Down the bar, there’s a well dressed man glaring daggers at him.
“I’m Yoochun by the way.”
“Thanks,” Junsu mumbles and lifts his glass in acknowledgement, Yoochun still looking at him expectantly. Oh. Okay then. “Junsu,” he manages out after the first mouthful (milk? cream, maybe?).
Yoochun beams sunshine at him and Junsu finds himself smiling back despite the fact that his drink tastes like shit and the weird man that keeps glaring at him is…still glaring at him. Maybe it’s just him but it also seems like he’s moved up a few seats too.
“So, Junsu.” Yoochun is cleaning an obviously already-clean bar top, intent on some invisible spot near Junsu’s elbow that no one can see except him. “You don’t come here often, do you?”
Oh god, Junsu thinks and mindlessly takes another sip of his White Russian. Oh god, he isn’t honestly trying to pick me up, is he? He forces himself to swallow and tonight’s guise is starting to feel a little overdone, uncomfortable even. Damnit I should have just stuck with the one from the bus stop for the night, think-
“No, I’m just in town for tonight, I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
There. Fixed. The weird man is practically two seats away from him now and obviously listening to the conversation. Yoochun seems to have noticed that as well, setting a glass of cold water in front of the man who just tips it over, sending dark rivulets running to the floor.
“You’re drunk, Changmin. Go home.”
The man called Changmin looks more murderous than drunk but Yoochun matches him glare for glare.
“You’re very drunk, Changmin,” Yoochun suggests in the middle of their glaring match, breaking his gaze to mop up the mess with a rag. Junsu clears his throat uncomfortably.
“I won’t be there to hold your hand when you die a horrible death from syphilis,” Changmin says darkly before he gets up to leave and Junsu stares at his retreating back. Yoochun has gone back to cleaning the bar top.
“I don’t have syphilis,” Yoochun offers as an explanation when Changmin is out of earshot and Junsu accepts that with an appreciative ahh. “Not that I’m implying that you would want to sleep with me which would entitle you to know something like that but Changmin’s a bit of a douchebag when he’s drunk.”
“Okay.”
Junsu is suddenly aware that Yoochun is staring at him and for a moment, he panics, looks at his hands to check whether he’d accidentally sprouted an extra finger or something.
“Maybe I was wrong,” Yoochun says thoughtfully and Junsu has taken to inconspicuously feeling his neck. No extra head. Hair still the same length. Eyes, maybe? Maybe one iris is purple or something? “Maybe you’re not a White Russian kind of guy.”
Junsu gives a nervous, shaky laugh that sends Yoochun scurrying to fix something more appropriate. “Kahlua? Whiskey?” he calls from where he’s standing, staring up at the shelves upon shelves of multicolored bottles that line the wall.
“I don’t know,” Junsu finds himself saying and regretting it instantly because for the rest of the night, Yoochun insists on having him sample every type of alcohol available.
And that’s a lot of alcohol.
-
The first thing Yoochun thinks when he wakes up is damn, my head hurts. The second thing is something along the lines of I think my left leg has fallen asleep and the third thing….well. The third thing that crosses his mind doesn’t quite have the time to arrange itself into a coherent thought because the moment Yoochun tries to move, he finds out that his left leg has fallen asleep simply because there’s someone sleeping on it.
“What the hell,” he says quietly and god so help him, there’s an unknown man in his bed. An unknown naked man.
Yoochun lies very still now, trying to remember whether he knows the man sleeping next to him but that proves a bit impossible, said man having buried his face into the pillow. Jun something? Junsu? Was that his name? Fuck his job and all the fun times that came with it. Yoochun decides to poke the man, having come to the conclusion that last night’s sex was probably too good to remember or bad enough for his brain to conveniently forget it, either way there had to be sex involved seeing how there was a naked stranger in Yoochun’s bed.
“Hnnmgh.”
“Junsu?”
“Hnng?”
Well at least he knew it was Junsu from last night and not some random drunk hobo from the street. And if it was Junsu, more likely than not, it was bound to have been good sex, seeing how-
“Yoochun?”
“The fuck?”
Yoochun half falls, half stumbles out of his bed, clutching the sheets to himself.
“Who are you?”
The other man sits up dazedly and Yoochun inches further away, fumbling behind his back trying to reach for something hard and throw-able in case the man-that-isn’t-Junsu decides to stab him to death or something.
“I…what?”
“You’re not Junsu.”
“But I am.”
Yoochun tightens his grasp around an ornamental vase that Changmin got him for Christmas last year, something tall and thin with Chinese motifs down one side. Expensive shit that doubled up as useless shit as well. Traditional Changmin material.
“You’re not Junsu, I know because I saw you last night and…”
“And I’m Junsu.”
The man-claiming-to-be-Junsu climbs out of bed now, picking his clothes off the floor and putting his pants on.
“Hah! I know you’re not! Junsu didn’t have such a fat ass!” The man freezes at his, one hand unconsciously going to feel his behind. “Oh my fuck,” he whispers and Yoochun barely has time to throw his vase at Junsu when he pushes past Yoochun, almost running to the bathroom, Yoochun following suit with vase in hand.
“Where the hell do you think…”
“Oh my fuck.”
Junsu is gripping the sides of the sink as he stands in front of Yoochun’s mirror, Yoochun looming up behind him with his vase.
“You’re not Junsu,” Yoochun confirms again just to be sure and Junsu meets his eye in the glass, holds the gaze as steady as someone with the mother of all hangovers can.
“But I am…” he starts with a desperate note in his voice.
Yoochun swings the vase.
-
“Yoochun it’s nine am on a motherfu-”
“I think I just killed someone.”
“YOU WHAT?”
“Well last night that man you saw, I uh…he. Changmin I have a man bleeding from a head wound in my bathroom but you see, he’s not the man from last night and-”
“…I hate you, you know that?”
“That means you’re coming over? Changmin? Hello? Changmin?”
-
Junsu doesn’t know what’s going on, except the fact that he’s waking up with blood down one side of his face and very, very bad headache.
“Wha-”
Something cold and wet slaps him across the face.
“Changmin!”
“What?”
“What?!”
Changmin shrugs and drapes his dish towel over one shoulder, Yoochun yelling at him to back to the bathroom to clean up the blood please and thank you. Junsu doesn’t even want to try and comprehend what just happened other than the fact that somewhere along the line last night perhaps between the sex and a vase making friends with the back of his head, he blew his own cover and ended like this. Yoochun is eyeing him as if looking at a moldy piece of cheese.
“I’m Junsu,” Junsu says, followed by a quick “Please don’t hit me.”
Yoochun doesn’t look too convinced and Junsu thinks that he would have liked to grab Yoochun by his ears and shake the fact into his head had his hands…not…been
“You tied me to a chair?”
Junsu has more than a bad headache now, the fact that Changmin has just wandered back out from the bathroom clutching a rag with what looks like his blood on it not really helping at all.
“Who are you and what did you do with Junsu?”
“For the love of god, I am Junsu, what part of that sentence do you not understand?”
“And what part of you aren’t Junsu do you not understand as well?”
Junsu sighs and today is clearly not that great a day. The raffia string that’s binding him to the kitchen chair is cutting into his wrists. His head feels like there are fireworks of the not-so-nice-kind going off inside. Everything feels too loud and too bright no thanks to the hangover that’s competing with his headache to see which one will make him throw up first. And to top it all off royally, he’s currently shirtless. Just…not that great a day at all, especially not one to tell the biggest secret of your life to a couple of household-object-wielding buffoons.
“What if I told you I could be Junsu and…not?”
“I’d tell you that you’re more batshit insane than you already are, that’s what I’d tell you,” Changmin snaps at and Yoochun has to wave at him to shut up; pulls up another kitchen chair to sit in front of Junsu.
“Go on.”
“Don’t tell him to go on, Yoochun, what is wrong with you? Just call the cops and…holy shit. Holy sparkling shit.”
“Now that’s something I haven’t heard before,” comes the dry comment from the splitting image of Yoochun sitting on the chair Junsu was occupying a few moments ago.
Yoochun has backed his own right onto Changmin’s feet in alarm and Changmin hasn’t even recovered enough yet to yell at him, the both of them a good meter away from Junsu when Yoochun finally finds it in himself to ask Junsu “Who are you?”
Junsu sighs again, Changmin making a pathetic meeping noise when he does.
“Whoever that you want me to be.”
Changmin is staring at himself now and Yoochun quietly passes out on the floor.
-
“So you can…change. Into things. And we’re sorry about tying you up and all that, it was Changmin’s idea.”
“For the record, it was Yoochun who hit you.”
Junsu is sitting at one end of the kitchen table, now untied and thankfully fully clothed while Yoochun and Changmin occupy the other extreme end.
“It’s okay, really. I think I would have done the same but…maybe without the hitting. About that changing thing though, people, I can’t do objects but I can do people.”
Changmin gapes openly.
“No shit?”
Something seems to shift in the air and Yoochun can’t help himself from yelping in surprise. There’s a petite little schoolgirl swinging her legs from her chair, smile on her face.
“No shit,” she says sweetly and it’s back to Junsu again, Changmin getting up, mumbling something about sticking his head in the bathtub for a few minutes.
“But why?”
Junsu shrugs and absently touches the back of his head, the pain having dulled to nothing but a half-hearted throb thanks to Changmin’s expertise at fixing what he called drunken-sex-wounds.
“You won’t believe the things I’ve had to do for Yoochun, stupid lovable bastard that he is,” Changmin had said as he cut out a piece of gauze, splashed some iodine onto it. “That one time when he thought it would be cool beans to get himself tied to his bed by some drunken jackass and that other time with that weird stripper from downtown who cleared out the fridge after he knocked Yoochun out with a shampoo bottle and I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry. I’m just a little nervous.”
Yoochun raises an eyebrow at Junsu, still waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know why, I just…can. Is Changmin okay, by the way? I need someone to change this bandage, I think I’m bleeding through it.”
Changmin walks out of the bathroom declaring that he isn’t okay but heck, he’ll change the bandage anyway, that’s what people do for weirdass shapeshifters that their best friends have slept with the night before.
“Is he neurotic?” Junsu whispers across the table when Changmin has gone to throw the old bandage away and Yoochun shrugs, kinda liking this Junsu person now. “No, not when you pay him. He’s a psychiatrist.”
Junsu makes knowing noises that gets cut short when Changmin stamps back into the kitchen to announce that he’s going to work, unlike some people who would prefer to sit at their kitchen tables and talk the day away.
“We can talk at the bar,” Yoochun offers and bullies Changmin into driving them there.
-
“So,” Yoochun begins. He’s dragging chairs back to their original places, Junsu helping him sweep up last night’s trash. “So. Shapeshifter, eh?”
“Eh.”
Junsu leans on his broom expectantly. “This is the part where you ask me just what exactly do I do with that, right?”
“Right. So what exactly do you do with that?”
There’s nothing but the sound of Junsu’s broom scraping against the tiles and Yoochun tries to concentrate on remembering just how many chairs this table is supposed to have. Six seems like too much.
“Pretty much anything I want to, I think. Crash company parties for free nibbles. One man con jobs. Things like that.” Junsu flexes his fingers a little before moving on to another part of the floor. “I don’t actually have a job and all that.”
“Want to work here, then?” Yoochun finds himself blurting out suddenly and Junsu pauses mid-sweep, stares at Yoochun for a moment before he bursts out laughing.
“Seriously? Like you novelty attraction and all that? Because if yes, then no way.”
“A little. To the seriously, not the novelty attraction.”
Junsu has gone over to dump his findings in the trashcan. “You probably just think I’m interesting, don’t you?” he says as he comes back to Yoochun, going to perch on one of the tables. Yoochun figures out that there should be only five chairs there but Junsu has gone and rested his legs on the odd one out he had been reaching for and Yoochun’s hand shies away to another chair at the very last minute.
“Well. Yeah. I do,” he admits and he’s glad that it’s dark in here, light only in the form of skinny patches on the floor from the strips of window glass, nothing to give away the blush on his cheeks. “It’s not every day that I get to meet someone like you.”
“You’re interesting too,” Junsu begins slowly, pushing the chair back and forth with one foot. “And it’s not every day I meet someone that knows about this but you can find out just how interesting I am without me having to work here, right?”
“Right.” Yoochun’s cheeks are almost on fire now, the fact that Junsu is grinning at him not helping one bit. “Right. So. Uh.” Junsu just laughs and tells Yoochun that he’s free for coffee later.
“My treat,” he says and Yoochun leaves six chairs at that table.
-
Five coffee dates (more like fruit smoothies for Junsu) and Yoochun finds out that Junsu is far, far more interesting than he’d originally imagined him to be. Junsu can’t change into say, someone like Angelina Jolie at a drop of a coin but what he can do is accidentally brush against the hand of the cute waiter who brings Yoochun’s tuna melt and-
“So you were saying- WHAT THE HELL.”
Yoochun almost drops his food and Junsu calmly shifts back to looking like Junsu, shamelessly picking out a piece of tuna from Yoochun’s sandwich.
“So I was saying, this shapeshifting thing. It’s not all fun and games all the time but it sure comes close to it. Are you actually going to eat that?”
“Well yeah, I would if you’d stop scaring me every chance you get.”
Junsu shrugs and steals more tuna, Yoochun finally tearing the bread into two pieces before handing the bigger one to Junsu.
“So waiters scare you now?”
“Shut up and eat.”
-
There is this one time when Yoochun asks for a demo of what Junsu does with his life.
“Besides, you know. Trying out every café in this city with me,” he tries to add flippantly but Junsu sees through the façade easy enough, barely masked curiosity in Yoochun’s face when Junsu drags him out of the café without even letting him finish his pie.
“Try not to scream like a pansy, okay?’
“Okay.”
But Yoochun still lets out a strangled yelp when Junsu pulls him into a back lane, bones of his hands shifting in Yoochun’s until he’s holding onto-
“Do you think my boobs are lopsided?”
Junsu is still holding onto Yoochun with one hand, adjusting his newfound assets with his other.
“Uh. N-no. No.”
“I can’t see y’know, from up here they look about the same but damned if I can ever actually get the proportions just right.” Junsu looks up into at Yoochun and Yoochun is staring into a heart-shaped face with doll eyes, shoulder length hair in soft curls.
“What, did I accidentally add an extra nose or something?”
Yoochun stutters out something vaguely negative and lets go of Junsu’s hand, the latter using it to smooth her hair into place. She even has one of those damned girly purses to complete the look, the tip of it poking out of her skirt pocket.
“Still not used to seeing me with boobs?”
“No,” says Yoochun curtly and Junsu doesn’t chide him for staring too much, just lets Yoochun ogle his fill before leading him out into the street again.
“Listen,” she says in a low undertone and she’s gone and linked arms with Yoochun, the latter’s limbs almost cardboard stiff. “Listen, whatever happens later, just act like how you’d normally act okay? I’m not going to tell you what’s going to happen in case it screws with whatever I’ve got planned out but whatever happens, act. Normal.”
With that, Junsu leads the both of them into a large-ish restaurant and plonks Yoochun onto an empty seat, orders for the both of them complete with flirty gestures and sneakily obvious footie played under the table that sends the waiter scurrying away. Yoochun clears his throat, unsure of what to do. Junsu just crosses his legs demurely and calls Yoochun darling with a lilt.
“Follow my lead,” Junsu hisses when no one is looking and she’s back to smiles again, toying with her earrings as she makes one sided small talk with Yoochun who still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s going on. Yoochun has to feed her sautéed carrots from his plate when the waiter comes around with refills for their water glasses.
“Darling, would you like to split the chocolate cake with me?”
“Eh?”
“Darling.”
“Oh. Uhm. Yeah. Okay. Cake.”
The waiter gives him a strange look that makes Junsu kick Yoochun in the shin the moment they’re left alone. “Concept: loving couple. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The bill comes and Junsu leaves her purse on the table, shoots a look at Yoochun that clearly says touch it and die before heading to the bathroom, accidentally bumping into a waitress on her way there. Yoochun can hear her mumbled sorry from the table and later when the bill comes, it’s brought by a grinning waiter in training, hair tied up in a ponytail.
“I’ll be right back with your change, sir.”
She leaves with the money in hand and a little something else as well, Yoochun catching sight of Junsu’s purse quickly disappearing into one pocket.
“Hey.” Yoochun half stands, meaning to call the girl back but she melds into a throng of people leaving the restaurant. Act normal, Junsu said? What would normal be, then, in a situation like this? He glances at the empty seat in front of him before calling the manager over to the table.
[tbc]
AN- omg this turned out far longer than I expected D: Uhm. Happy New Year, shorichan , sorry this is so late! Also a huge thank you to oldwillow_brook for putting up with my email spammage ;;