Falling off the Turnip Truck [1/5]
Title: Falling off the Turnip Truck
Authors: dreaminginside & kellsung
Pairing: YeWook, Ninja!HenMin, Ninja!SiTeuk
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: a whole lot of sex, semi-public fingering, rimming, blowjobs, multiple orgasms, vegetables turning into humans LOL
Word Count: ~45,000
Summary: Jongwoon is a poor fellow, loved by no one, late father included. This is the story of his life, in which there are rifles, cauliflowers, one very special turnip and a whole other cacophony of things (and magic vegetables) out to make Jongwoon cry. And he cries, a lot.
A/N1 (dreaminginside): My dearest bb in the whole wide world and I wrote this together, and it's been a long and fun journey, so all of you had better love it at least half as much as we do! I will cry more than Jongwoon if you don't! Enjoy!
A/N2 (kellsung): Okay so finally, after what seems like years and years of sweat, blood and tears (with a predominance of happy tears, I'd say) we're here with our first baby. I would like to thank dreaminginside for planting a turnip both in my mind and heart. I want it to grow there forever. I hope you'll enjoy reading it at least half as much as we enjoyed writing it!
Jongwoon has a room with a view.
His eyes sweep across the city that lies below his veranda, strangely beautiful when hidden from the smog shown in the daylight and buildings twinkling like millions of fireflies in the pitch of night. A view like this may have cost him a bit more than a pretty penny, but he finds it worth it to look over it when he has something to ponder. And he certainly does tonight, he muses as his robe is blown gently by the wind, eyes sliding down to the object sitting heavy in his hand. Such as why the hell he has a magic turnip in his possession.
It’s been a long day and Jongwoon can barely recall the events of the past few hours. Morning jogging, stepping into a dog poo, as per usual, buying bananas at the street market and a brief visit to his favourite gay bar on the way to his mother’s birthday party - it all seems to him strangely blurry, as if he just woke up from a dream. In retrospect, Jongwoon can’t really tell why he bought a huge bunch of bananas when it’s clearly wild strawberries that have always been his favourite fruit. He bites on the inside of his cheek in concentration; something’s off. He takes a peek down, boring eyes into the turnip, and then sighs heavily upon realizing that he still hasn’t wiped the dog poo off his shoe.
He ignores it in favor of the large white and purple vegetable lying in his hand, almost staring at him accusingly for holding and simply staring at it. He remembers his mother telling him once that it was rude to stare, but he believes vegetables to be exempt from this rule.
Speaking of his mother, he decides to blame his whole turnip dilemma on her. Before leaving her birthday party earlier in the afternoon she abruptly shoved the lumpy turnip in his hands and instructed him to take care of it as it was very important and special. He loves his mother dearly, but believes she may have finally lost her mind as this story is clearly not Jack and the Beanstalk, or rather turnip, and everyone knows that magic isn’t real.
Okay, so perhaps it’s not Jack and Beanstalk, Jongwoon reasons, but what if it’s a story akin to the one of Little Tiny? What if the turnip contains a pretty girl, or preferably, a pretty boy, waiting for Jongwoon to break an awful spell with a kiss? Jongwoon fights the urge to snort. He vaguely thinks his mother’s lunacy must have finally rubbed off on him. He starts considering throwing the turnip into the trash can when a sharp sound of the doorbell interrupts his meditations.
Jongwoon sighs and leaves the turnip in his grip as he walks back inside and opens the door, staring down at an old lady gazing up at him hopefully.
“For the last time Mrs. Lee, I don’t want to marry your daughter, I’m gay.” He says it slowly in the hope that it will sink in this time around and that he won’t have to deal with his crazy neighbor’s stalking anymore, but finds the woman’s eyes focused on the turnip in his hand.
“Is that a magic lamp?” She asks him and Jongwoon starts to think that everyone around him has simply gone crazy as it is obviously a simple turnip that anyone can buy at the market, not an object of any special importance, much less a lamp.
“Yes, yes, it’s a lamp!” he exclaims, far too enthusiastically, nearly pushing the turnip in the old lady’s face. “And it does magic too! You just need to, um, rub here - see? - just like that, and - holy shit balls mother fucker!”
Jongwoon literally jumps in fright as the turnip moans when rubbed and then rolls down to the floor, instantly bursting into flames. “I mean, see, my dear Mrs. Lee, that’s one amazing magic lamp, wanna buy it?”
The two stare at the flaming turnip on the floor momentarily before Mrs. Lee begins gesturing wildly at him.
“You can’t sell a magic lamp! You must take responsibility for what it is that you have done and deal with what you have created!” A bony finger stops mere inches from Jongwoon’s nose and he blinks before his eyes slide back to the flaming mess on his condo’s floor.
“Jesus Christ lady, it’s a flaming turnip that’s burning a hole in my floor, what do you want from me here?” Jongwoon watches with mild horror as the flames shift to show a sliver of red hair, completely different from what used to be a completely unassuming turnip.
“Ooookay, guys,” the high-pitched, coquettish voice comes out from the cloud of smoke hovering over the parquet. “What is all that commotion about? Disperse!”
Both Jongwoon and Mrs. Lee keep staring at the floor, confused beyond words and slightly disgusted as a little frame emerges from the smoke, red-haired, big-eyed and stark naked.
“They’ve been telling me over and over that people are no more than stupid, totally clueless creatures, and I guess I should have believed them when i still had a choice,” the turnip boy grumbles with a cocky smirk. “Now shoo, old hag, my new daddy needs to feed me.”
Jongwoon stares slack jawed as Mrs. Lee pats him lightly on the shoulder before wandering back to her own home down the hall.
He flounders for a few moments, trying desperately not to stare at the naked man in front of him before his mind is able to form coherent sentences again.
“Listen you turnip man lamp…thing! I am no ones father, and clearly I am dreaming and when I wake up there will be no more magic turnips or crazy ladies bothering me. God, what did I do to deserve this?”
The man snorts at him, arrogantly flipping his overgrown bangs out of his eyes. “Oh whatever human, take a joke. Of course I would end up with a dumb one, why would I end up any differently?”
Jongwoon feels insulted, pushes the turnip creature out of his apartment and slams the door shut. There.
He’s already managed to settle himself comfortably on the sofa in front of the tv, throwing his legs over the glass table and pressing a cushion hard against his chest, an action that he later identifies as a symptom of fear, when he hears the all too familiar voice, coming muffled from behind the door.
“Kim Jongwoon, 26, single and gay.” Jongwoon sighs. “Graduated from Sejong University, majored in Art and Design. Destroyed his brother’s favourite Spiderman toy in 1992; never confessed to the deed. Stole and sold his mother’s blender in 1997; his mother still blames the innocent plumber.”
“Has the bizarre hobby of collecting turtle paraphernalia and manages to scare away near everyone he meets with his creepiness. Somehow manages to become rich through a series of high end design jobs and manages to afford this posh condo in the city, nice place you have here by the way.” Jongwoon looks up, horrified to find the man wandering around his apartment as he
pleases, and belatedly remembers not locking the door.
“What are you, the turnip oracle? Come here to stalk the living hell out of me and then eat me alive or something?” Jongwoon puts his head in his hands, feeling a migraine coming on as high notes of laughter drop from the man’s mouth.
“No, it comes with the territory; I know everything about you because you were the one who picked me up. And no of course not! Don’t worry; I’ll kill you before I eat you.”
“Sure, sure, I get it now. So just go be a turnip oracle to my mother, kill her and eat her, should you wish to have a stringy meal. And even if you don’t, well that’s no difference really, because I’ll kill her anyway for presenting me with a speaking-walking vegetable and turning my life into HELL!”
“See that’s why people would usually want to kill you before eating you up,” the turnip man says cheekily, smirk forming on his lips, and Jongwoon could swear he winked at him the way slimy old men wink at big-breasted chicks in pink mini skirts. “But I’ve always kind of liked to go against the tide.”
“Well I suppose that bodes better for me, but stop leering at me like that, it’s rather disconcerting,” Jongwoon shifts uncomfortably as the man’s smirk grows, leer growing even more suggestive. “And you’re naked! Why are you naked exactly?”
“I was a turnip, what did you expect me to have on? Besides, don’t even pretend you aren’t enjoying it.” He flips his hair yet again and shrugs at Jongwoon, shooting a pleased grin in the other man’s direction and gesturing at his own pale skin.
“You’re gay after all, aren’t you?” He starts drawing closer to where Jongwoon’s sitting on the couch and lets him feast his eyes on his fully exposed milky-white skin. “Not your type?”
Jongwoon opens his mouth to say something, not really sure what exactly, but that’s not the point since right then the doorbell buzzes again and Jongwoon is too happy to be saved from the conversation with a leering turnip. At least until he opens the door and there’s a relatively tall man wiping his shoes on his doormat (dog poo), clad in old-fashioned clothes and with a sword fastened to his side, and for God’s sake, is he actually wearing a hat with a fucking plume?
“Kyuhyun-ah!” the turnip’s cheerful squeak comes from behind Jongwoon’s back and Jongwoon nearly passes out but in the end settles for a loud slap of his hand against his forehead. “You came for me!”
Jongwoon blinks owlishly as the strange man sighs, pulling the feather out of his hat to reveal it as a pen, and then a deteriorating piece of parchment from his side pocket. “Not for you, I came to give your unfortunate victim here his contract.”
“Unfortunate victim? I thought you weren’t going to eat me!” Jongwoon whispers harshly at the still naked man still standing slightly behind him, frowning at the man in the doorway even as he sighs and gestures at the paper in his hand, ignoring Jongwoon’s words.
“And I’m sure Ryeowook didn’t tell you about any of this, that’s just fantastic. Well Kim Jongwoon, Ryeowook is now your responsibility to take care of as it was you who released him from his natural state at 21:43. Now sign.”
Jongwoon’s eyes narrow to slits as he leans forwards, his face mere centimeters from the musketeer’s when he drawls through clenched teeth, “Am not signing anything, you... man in yellow stockings! And I am not to be responsible for that little turnip there so just take it away while I’m still being nice and well-mannered.”
A vicious grin that grows on the man’s face makes Jongwoon fairly uncomfortable and he clears his throat to hide the obvious signs of his trepidation as he feels his stomach sink
“Kim Jongwoon, you clueless human being. I was only kidding about the contract, this is just my shopping list,” the man chuckles, clearly amused. “Why would you need one anyway? It doesn’t matter whether you sign anything or not, Ryeowook’s yours until... well until he decides to join cauliflower in his pursuit of eternal veggie happiness. Which I doubt he will, ever.”
“Damn straight, that idiot does nothing but mumble something about vegetable nirvana and practically everyone who picks him up ends up killing themselves,” Ryeowook mumbles, looking slightly put out at having to stay under Jongwoon’s care. “In retrospect you’re quite lucky to have me; I practically radiate normality in comparison.”
Jongwoon fails to find anything normal about this situation, and briefly entertains the thought of this all being some insane dream and that he simply must check into a mental facility when he wakes up. Then he passes out.
“Oh now look what you’ve done Kyuhyun-ah, things were all going peachy until you came here. How is he supposed to feed me if he’s out cold?”
Kyuhyun knits his brows, probably allowing himself to fall into meditation. He struggles to find an answer, the answer, and it’s not until a few minutes later than he returns to the world of the living, signs of epiphany clearly visible in his sparkling eyes and generally, all over his face. “I da naaaaaa.”
Oh.
***
Jongwoon wakes up two days later. Not that he’s aware of that, at least not until he looks at his phone and the screen informs him that it’s 10:22, Monday, August the 21st. No longer weekend.
FUCK, IT’S NO LONGER WEEKEND AND IT’S 10:22, WHERE ARE HIS PANTS AND OH MY GOD, HE’S SO SCREWED.
He makes a mad scramble off the couch to try and stumble to his bedroom, and the only thing that brightens the fact that his boss is probably going to kill him for being late for work is that it appears that ‘events’ of the previous days were just a nightmare. He supposes he doesn’t have to check himself into the asylum now and feels a small smile begin to tug at his lips that stops dead when he walks into his bedroom.
“I was wondering when you were going to wake up, do you have any idea how boring your house is after the first day? And you hardly have any food; we’re going to have to go grocery shopping sometime soon.” Ryeowook says lazily from his perch on Jongwoon’s bed, still naked, and eying the other man with no small amount of mischief in his eyes.
“You were supposed to have been a dream!”
Jongwoon briefly wonders how inappropriate it would be of him to burst into tears. He vaguely recalls his late father’s words, something along the lines of “Son, men never cry. Men kill.” (he was a zealous hunter) and he concludes that rather than crying, he should go find his rifle, the only thing his father left him - the money, the house in the Maldives and two cars were all inherited by his younger brother. Such is his luck, he figures, and he turns around, making his way towards the exit. “You’d better be gone when I’m back.”
Clearly, he misses a sly smile creeping up Ryeowook’s face.
“If that helps you get through the day then keep thinking it.” Ryeowook calls after him as Jongwoon continues down the hallway and pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “But just so you know, I’m sleeping in this bed, it’s quite comfortable. So be a gentleman and take the couch or don’t and then you can make my stay here truly entertaining.”
Jongwoon can hear the leer in the other man’s voice and nearly bangs his head against the door in frustration, weighing the penalties of murder versus the hell his life seems to have turned into.
“I don’t care, just leave me alone and go back to the turnip farm or wherever it is you came from.” And then he slams the door behind him, praying to every God in existence that Ryeowook will be gone by the time he gets home.
***
It seems like his prayers have been utterly and absolutely ignored, which he becomes perfectly aware of upon turning the key in the lock. It certainly wasn’t a good day, his boss taking his frustrations out on him, and quite understandably so, the street market closed due to a “plague of an unspecified lethal disease, spread by sharing underboiled cauliflower,” and his favourite gay bar closed as well, due to the same causes. Jongwoon would be lying if he denied being panic-stricken at that point.
“Okay, little turnip... something, you’re leaving,” Jongwoon growls, yanking up the other man by the collar and pulling him towards the door as soon as he steps across the threshold and sees him sprawled out on the couch. His couch.
“Oh no, I’m not going anywhere. I was perfectly happy being a turnip and then you had to go and cause the reaction and turned me into a human; it is your responsibility to take care of me and keep me happy. If I’m going anywhere it’s grocery shopping with you because frankly, your food is dismal at best.” Ryeowook slaps Jongwoon’s hand off of the collar of his button up,
borrowed from the human’s closet of course, and points an accusing finger at Jongwoon’s (empty) kitchen.
“The only thing I’m in the mood for right now is turnip stew.” Jongwoon mumbles to himself, frowning sadly at the thought of what his life has become, playing babysitter to some strange vegetable person.
“Well that can be arranged, but we’re not making anything until we go shopping. Nothing cauliflower though, that dumbass seems to be in one of his moods again and it’s affecting all of his kind.”
Jogwoon really wishes to say something clever to that. He really does but, sadly, he has never been exceptionally skillful with words so he only sighs, letting go of Ryeowook’s, or rather his own, shirt and slumping to the couch with resignation. “You know what, I have a brilliant idea,” he suddenly exclaims, nearly jumping back to his feet in glee, but not quite. “How about you go shopping, stuff yourself with whatever you crazy vegetables feed on and stay away from my place till the end of your pitiful vegetable life?”
“I... need you to go with me, you’re my carer now, we need to go together everywhere,” comes a silent answer and Jongwoon’s pretty much speechless at the coyness in the other’s voice.
“…Everywhere?” Jongwoon finds his heart sinking down to his feet as he imagines this lunatic with him, everywhere, for the rest of his life. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to jump off my veranda now.”
“Oh for the love of- take a joke already! And you aren’t killing yourself until we get some decent ingredients in here and I can make dinner, I’ll have you know I haven’t eaten anything beyond granola bars. Now come on, we’re going shopping.” Ryeowook catches him by the end of his sleeve and begins dragging him out the door, all the while ignoring the pleas to just let Jongwoon end his pitiful life.
“And no more of those suicidal thoughts, because if you kill yourself then I’ll die too. In all seriousness, we are connected now and I have no wishes to die quite yet.”
“This is... this is even lower than emotional blackmail, are you aware?” Jongwoon hisses, but allows Ryeowook to pull him by the sleeve down the stairs anyway. He thinks he must be out of his mind himself, letting that red-haired half-turnip half-human turn his life upside down instead of grabbing his rifle and- “Wait. Are you trying to say that if one of us dies, the other one follows suit? No matter which one kicks the bucket first?” Ryeowook keeps silent and Jongwoon stops abruptly, fairly disconcerted, feeling a sharp tug of Ryewoook’s arm. (And when exaclty has Ryeowook’s hand wrapped itself around his?)
“My, you are a sharp one, aren’t you?” Ryeowook says sarcastically and squeezes his hand once more to get him moving again, making their way out of the building and onto the street. “That’s correct, so stop trying to kill me too. Oh if only you hadn’t passed out, Kyuhyunnie could have explained this whole thing to you and saved me all this trouble. Now lead away, I have no idea where I’m going and we need to get to a grocery store. Clothes that actually fit me would be nice too.”
Jongwoon’s eyes roam down Ryeowook’s slim figure and he admits to himself that his own clothes don’t fit the other man very well, shirt nearly hanging off the man’s narrow frame and pants rolled up to prevent him from tripping over them.
“Why can’t you just turn back into a turnip and save me the money and mental agony?”
“Doesn’t work this way,” Ryeowook says lightly, looking up at Jongwoon with a wide grin. “Once a human, forever a human. Or something. You can’t just turn a human into a turnip!”
“Clearly I had no problems turning a turnip into a human,” Jongwoon mumbles under his breath, looking around nervously to make sure no acquaintances of his are in their vicinity.
“Well it’s obviously not the same thing, Jongwoon,” he says in a patronizing tone. “Besides, you rubbed me and it felt good, did you expect me to be satisfied with just that?”
Jongwoon sputters wordlessly for a few moments before settling on glaring unhappily at the other man. “I simply have no words for you. No words! Are you some kind of incubus turnip too? All you seem to do is make innuendo at me, not to mention all that running around naked!”
“Baby,” Ryeowook drawls, grinning brightly at Jongwoon’s growing uncomfortableness and holding steadfast onto his hand when he tries to wriggle away. “I can be any kind of turnip you want me to be. But technically I’m a man now, so I wish you would refer to me as such.”
“Fine, fine, you’re a man. Now go find yourself a nice lady, court her for a while and then get her pregnant so that both of you can run a turnip farm or whatever.” Jongwoon’s busy being pleased with the clear manifestation of his admirable wit, when Ryeowook painfully tightens his grip around Jongwoon’s hand, and it’a a warning.
“Kim Jongwoon, how many times do I need to tell you. I’m yours and you’re mine - our lives are interdependent. You try to get rid of me and I’m gonna make sure you’ll regret it till the end of your miserable life. Besides, I’m not really into women; I grew up among cauliflowers, there are no female cauliflowers, Jongwoon.”
“Cauliflowers have genders?” Jongwoon decides to focus on the less threatening part of Ryeowook’s speech, the other being the whole interdependent lives thing which may cause another small mental breakdown if he forces himself to think about it too much. Unfortunately, Ryeowook chooses to latch onto that exact subject instead and seems to take no small amount of glee in the mental havoc it wreaks.
“Clearly you are focusing on the wrong part of that explanation, human; it would be more to your benefit to question me about our whole intertwined existences. Or what type of ring you should be buying me when you propose of course.” Ryeowook’s eyes sparkle as Jongwoon goes pale, clearly uncomfortable and fidgeting where they stopped on the sidewalk.
“Or where and when to kiss me for the first time to make the experience exceptionally memorable. And enjoyable.” That said, Ryeowook pushes against Jongwoon’s chest, making use of his temporary absent-mindedness, and backs him up the brick wall of an old tenement house, people casting disgusted glances at them looking like they’re having a lovers fight in the broad daylight in the middle of the street. “Which might as well be now, I don’t really mind.”
Jongwoon clenches his fingers on Ryeowook’s shoulders, pushing against him with all the force he can muster, but quickly learns that the latter has far more strength than he would ever expect any turnip to have. Such is the charm of a magic turnip, Jongwoon figures as he pushes against him once again, this time succeeding in flipping them around.
“Okay listen you crazy turnip, for the last time I am not interested in your-” Jongwoon tries to explain to Ryeowook how completely uninterested he is in any kind of relationship with a vegetable when he’s cut off by warm lips covering his own, Ryeowook’s hand curling around the back of Jongwoon’s neck to keep him pressed into the kiss as he begins to flail around and tries to push away.
“Calm down would you, you’re ruining the moment.” Ryeowook mumbles into the kiss, looking directly into Jongwoon’s wide eyes and smirking as he pulls away with a final peck and a satisfied hum.
“Aww, what a lovely spectacle I seem to have wandered in on. Finally found someone to put up with you, Ryeowook?”
“Fuck,” Jongwoon thinks he hears Ryeowook hiss and next thing he knows, he’s being pulled by Ryeowook and speeding down the street, their hands linked. “What -”
“Just keep going,” Ryeowook cuts Jongwoon off as he glares at him over his shoulder, voice sharp and determined, nothing like it was before. “Unless you want to fall victim to that obnoxious vegetable.”
Jongwoon briefly wonders how ironic and highly inappropriate the words sound coming from Ryeowook’s mouth but decides to keep quiet in favour of letting the turnip man continue with his explanations. “HHjdjfjjgjvjHeechul, that goddamn asshole. I’ve heard he’s fooling around, stealing people’s - well, vegetables’ - boyfriends, but I didn’t expect he’d dress up as a woman to lure somebody else’s prey. You’re my prey, Jongwoon, mine. I suggest that you keep that in mind.”
“….You just kissed me!” Jongwoon is slightly dismayed at this new turn of events and chooses to tune out Ryeowook and his strange vegetable world yet again for the sake of his own sanity. “I don’t understand you! What do you even mean by prey?”
Ryeowook lets up on his glare for a moment in order for a smirk to cross his features. “You do so love pointing out the obvious, don’t you? That I did, and therefore the deal is done and you are mine. You would do well not to forget that, it would cause consequences for the both of us.”
Jongwoon’s face completely falls and he sees the world begin to spin again, finding the weight of Ryeowook’s hand still clutching his own being the only thing keeping him grounded to reality, and belatedly realizes that they are finally in front of the grocery store.
***
Jongwoon has always been a nice guy. (He honestly believes that the very few deeds of mischief he has done so far, including toy breaking and blender stealing, are by no means a blot on his character). He donates money to charities because he’s rich, and pays his bills on time because he’s a “fucking pedant” (his brother’s words.) He has always been a loving son and brother, except maybe the times when he wasn’t. But then again, all children have bad and good days, don’t they. Therefore, he has never ceased to wonder why the only thing his father left him was an old, rusty rifle. Until now.
“He must have known...” Jongwoon mutters, watching with no small amount of horror as Ryeowook stuffs the trolley with enormous amounts of semolina. “He must have predicted it... somehow. Oh god, he loved me after all, he just wanted me to put an end to myself before this happens.”
“You done?”
“No,” Jongwoon snaps, glaring disdainfully at the full cart, and feels his wallet emptying already. “I am not done and I would like to keep talking to myself until we get back to my house and I can dig up that damn rifle.”
Ryeowook merely sighs as if chastising a child and pats Jongwoon on the head. “You silly human, how many times am I going to have to tell you that we are connected? And as I have no wish to die yet, I’m certainly not going to stand around and let you put an end to your miserable little existence. Besides, this is the most fun I’ve had in years!”
Jongwoon frowns as Ryeowook tugs him along to the register, and has to restrain a pained whimper as the woman ringing up their groceries coos over their entwined hands and what a ‘cute couple they make’, only strengthening his resolve to remember where exactly he put that gun.
“I really like the way your tiny hand fits perfectly in mine, you know” Ryeowook almost chirps once the doors slide shut behind them and Jongwoon has to clench his fist in order not to
faceplam himself. Or punch the vegetable in the face. “I know, me too.”
Ryeowook beams. “Right? God, you think so too?”
“No!” Jongwoon rasps out, trying to wrench himself free. “Do you even know what sarcasm is? Now let go of my hand and please, go your own way? I kind of have plans for my life already, you know. You can’t just walk into someone’s life and start ordering them around like that!”
“Well it’s your fault that I’m here anyway, you just had to go and rub me out of being a turnip and into one of you humans. I’d say I have some rights to turn your life upside down; it’s what you’ve done to mine! How would you like it if I rubbed you and you turned into a vegetable?” Ryeowook nearly pouts and Jongwoon finds himself feeling slightly nauseous.
“I don’t think that would be the exact outcome.” Jongwoon mutters nervously as they continue down the street, Ryeowook having taken to swinging their hands between them, trapping them there in a vice grip. Ryeowook’s pout turns a bright grin at his words though, and Jongwoon finds himself dreading whatever is about to come out of the man’s mouth.
And quite understandably so because as soon as they enter the apartment, Jongwoon finds himself being shoved up against the door. This really needs to stop.
“Kiss me,” Ryeowook breathes, hands on Jongwoon’s shoulders, fingers digging into the warm flesh there, covered only by a thin fabric of his shirt. “There’s no people here, we’re alone, just the two of us, and I miss your lips on mine. So just kiss me, Jongwoon.”
And there it is, the roll of Ryeowook’s hips, gentle and experimental and barely-there but Jongwoon can feel it, he can feel it all too well. “Kiss me.”
The bags with groceries hit the floor.
He really is an incubus turnip, Jongwoon thinks as thin arms wrap around his neck again, Ryeowook’s mouth so close that he can feel the puffs of air against his own lips as the other pleads for a kiss, eyes dark and hips restless. He doesn’t move any closer though, leaving Jongwoon frozen against the door and wide eyed, at a loss of what to do at such a turn of events.
“I started it last time; it’s up to you to reciprocate if this pact is going to work, Jongwoon. Now make your decision.” Ryeowook’s lips are nearly touching his own and he finds it a bit harder to focus in on anything anymore, let alone whatever vegetable destiny nonsense Ryeowook is spouting again, and decides to throw caution (and sanity) to the wind as he closes what little distance remains between them.
Jongwoon feels Ryeowook smile into the kiss and before he can pull away to reconsider what exactly he has just dragged himself into, the other man’s hands slide up into his hair and completely take away any previous option of escape, holding him in place.
Panic doesn’t come over him until he feels a warm, wet muscle slide across his lips. That’s when he snaps.
“Ryeowook, what the hell are you eve-mmmmm.” Ryeowook’s tongue finally finds its way into Jongwoon’s mouth, successfully muffling the latter’s protests, and Jongwoon thinks he hears the man let out a little moan of satisfaction, a moan that, Jongwoon muses, would perhaps even pass as arousing if it wasn’t produced by a fricking vegetable.
“I’m not very experienced when it comes to relationships with humans,” Ryeowook mumbles into the kiss, fingers still buried in Jongwoon’s hair, “but I think I want you.”
Jongwoon’s eyes go impossibly wide at the man’s admission and he nearly faints in horror at the thought of having to give sex ed while pressed against his doorway and having his lips ravished by someone (or thing, he’s not even sure what title to give Ryeowook at this point) that doesn’t even know what these feelings mean with a real person.
“You don’t know?” He squeaks out before Ryeowook can manage to smash their faces together again. “Please tell me you at least know how sex works. Not that I want to have it with you. I have no feelings of want towards you. At all.”
“Methinks the human doth protest too much. And don’t insult me Jongwoon, I know how it works, I just haven’t done that with someone like you.”
“Not with someone like me? Jongwoon snorts, shaking his head from side to side with a fake smile. “Oh yes, because all sexual encounters you have had so far were with cucumbers and squashes?”
“Green beans,” Ryeowook corrects with an almost-pout.
“Like there’s any difference!” Jongwoon snarls, clearly infuriated by the ridiculousness of the whole situation and reaches up, fingers tightening around Ryeowook’s shoulders, determined to push him away. He has never been exceptionally good at hiding his emotions and the truth is, Ryeowook makes him pissed as fuck but fuck, he sort of misses that. It’s been quite a while since he had a good lay and he nearly slaps himself as he realizes that he’s actually considering giving up to Ryeowook’s advances.
“There is plenty of difference you stupid human, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but vegetables aren’t quite built the same as you humans.” Ryeowook scoffs as his hands travel down to trace lazy circles on Jongwoon’s chest. Jongwoon has to wonder exactly how lonely he is at night when he doesn’t immediately flinch away, and resolves himself to finding a nice and exceptionally normal boyfriend once he has this whole vegetable nightmare behind him.
“Well how am I supposed to know, there aren’t exactly people out there who study the sexual habits of vegetables, and I’m certainly not the kind of person who would be into that kind of thing anyway even if it did exist!” Jongwoon pushes against Ryeowook’s shoulder a little harder to no avail, now effectively pinned by hands pressing against his chest as Ryeowook flashes another grin at him.
“I can show you my sexual habits, Jongwoon,” Ryeowook drawls seductively, leaning up to catch Jongwoon’s earlobe with his lips. The turnip man’s mouth is warm and wet and sort of amazing, even Jongwoon must admit it, and the way he flicks his tongue over the shell of Jongwoon’s ear has him sliding his hands all the way down from Ryeowook’s shoulders to his hips, taking a firm hold of a pair of jutting hipbones. “Show me.” Jongwoon has no idea why he would say such a thing and in a way that almost makes him facepalm, but he figures it might be connected to those lips now trailing kisses down his neck and those hips, pressing insistently into his, and that voice, impossibly soft as he lets out a single gasp of his name, “Jongwoon...”
“You haven’t done it with that goddamn cauliflower, have you?!” Well that wasn’t quite what Ryeowook was expecting to hear.
“Well of course I haven’t, I do have standards you know.” Ryeowook sighs, and here he thought that they were having quite the moment there and could actually get somewhere without Jongwoon opening his mouth to ask inane questions. “Now look, you’ve ruined the moment again. Here I am, wanting you, and it’s pretty obvious you want me too, so why do you restrain yourself?” Ryeowook glances rather pointedly down at the bulge in Jongwoon’s pants and is about to make another move of his own when the phone rings.
“Oh look the phone, well damn, looks like you’ll have to move the hell out of the way for me to get that now, you never know how gosh darn important a call might be. So get off of me Ryeowook!”
In response to that, Ryeowook grunts something incomprehensible in a manner that gives away his utter disappointment, lips instantly curling into a pout. He lets go of Jongwoon reluctantly and watches with an unamused expression as he speeds across the room to pick up the phone.
“Hello?” Jongwoon chokes into the mouthpiece, grip tight around the receiver because he just needs to divert his attention from that funny feeling down in his pants. “Oh hi mom, nice of you to be calling me on a beautiful summer day like this. Any particular reason why you actually dialled my number? Did you run out of dustbin liners? The house is on fire? Burglars broke in and stole Monet? You want to know whether I ate that stupid turnip?”
There’s a brief moment of silence on Jongwoon’s part. “OH MY GOD, YOU KNEW! YOU GAVE ME THAT GODDAMN TURNIP ON PURPOSE DIDN’T YOU? YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN AND IT WOULD TURN INTO SOME KIND OF INCUBUS BENT ON HAVING SEX WITH ME! ...WHAT DO YOU MEAN I SHOULD HAVE READ THE INSTRCUTIONS, TURNIPS DON’T HAVE INSTRUCTIONS!” Jongwoon is flailing around uselessly while clutching the phone, and Ryeowook finds himself slightly amused despite his growing annoyance.
“No I didn’t read the fine print, turnips don’t have those either! Why don’t you just check into the looney bin and save us all the trouble? Or better yet, check me in to get me away from this crazy vegetable. Why couldn’t you give it to Jongjin? I always knew father loved him more but I didn’t expect this from you too! At least he gave me a rifle instead of a turnip!”
Jongwoon finds himself nearing tears as his mother continues to explain that she simply didn’t want her oldest son to feel so lonely anymore, so she thought she would give him a vegetable to keep him company. He cannot figure out what type of logic this is, and promptly bursts into loud, ugly sobs.
“What? No, I’m not crying mom, it’s just the sound of my soul whining in despair. Yes, of course it’s your fault, because hey, turns out you never loved me! For God’s sake, why am I suddenly a black sheep in this family? No mom, I won’t listen, I’m in the middle of going through a nervous breakdown!” Jongwoon pauses for a moment to catch his breath and immediately learns it's been a huge mistake on his part. He clenches his fingers around the receiver and endures nonetheless, shaking his head at the nonsense that sips into his ear. “No mom, I do not intend to rub the turnip again, one time was more than enough already and what kind of question is that anyway?”
Ryeowook stares at the other man in amazement, partly because he’s damn ugly when he cries like that, face red and fat tears dripping down his chin, and he didn’t suspect humans can look that ugly, and partly because dude, Jongwoon’s actually crying over the fact that his mother wanted to give him a vegetable companion and his dad wordlessly suggested that he kill himself with a rusty rifle. Ryeowook doesn’t exactly know why but he finds himself vaguely moved by the whole image and before he knows it, he’s wrapping his arms around Jongwoon’s chest from behind.
“Oh hush you baby, you’re a big girl now. You can’t cry every time life doesn’t go the way you want it, you know that.” Ryeowook murmurs into the back of Jongwoon’s neck, even as the other continues to wail into the phone and the tears continue to make long tracks down his cheeks. “And you’re not that bad off, I mean, I am making you less lonely, aren’t I?”
“I would rather be a eunuch for the rest of my days than have you to keep me company! Do you even understand what I’m feeling right now? I’m so damn confused, I just want to go cry in the corner in peace and have all of you psycho people leave me alone!” Jongwoon’s eyes are still watery as he turns his head to hiss at Ryeowook, not even caring at the arms that lowered to wind around his waist and voice verging more on hysteria with each passing moment.
“Oh god, close up your tearful face is even uglier,” Ryeowook points out before leaning up and pressing a firm kiss to the corner of the other’s mouth. Jongwoon’s mildly surprised at how he doesn’t really wish to turn away but he does so nonetheless because the voice in the receiver reaches the volume of a particularly loud shriek.
“Still here mom,” he half-whines, half-sobs into the phone, thin arms tightening around him. “What sound? No we didn’t just kiss, what kind of nonsense are you spouting. You just-WHAT? What do you mean, by the way your ex-boyfriend’s looking for you?” Jongwoon takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, allowing the fantastic piece of information to sink in. “That’s just lovely. Did you tell him, by any chance, that I have a gay vegetable boyfriend now and therefore am not in the least interested in his services?”
Ryeowook loosens his grip around Jongwoon’s waist, straining to hear each and every word that escapes the receiver. He frowns into Jongwoon’s nape as the said ex-boyfriend’s name is brought up. It’s not a name that goes well with “Jongwoon”, Ryeowook decides.
“Mom, you know Siwon can be damn scary. No, I can assure you Ryeowook wouldn’t protect me, he’s like 170 centimeters tall - or rather short - at best, for Christ’s sakes!”
“I resent that,” Ryeowook mumbles forlornly, moving his chin to rest lightly on Jongwoon’s shoulder and accepting this emotional turmoil as a step in the right direction since the other man has yet to shake him off, and merely continues to sniffle loudly, barely even reacting to their previous kiss. “I wasn’t the one who decided how tall I’d be, just be glad I’m taller than the average turnip at this point. Besides, what is your ex, a giant?”
“In a manner of speaking, he’s bigger than you in any case. He’s mostly a painfully persistent bible thumper who seems to think he’s a ‘soldier of light’, or something inane sounding like that. I think I was blinded by his abs and dimples, I really have no idea how we managed to be dating, but he seems to have made it his mission to scare away every single boyfriend I’ve had since we broke up. You know, I think I’m just cursed, that can be the only explanation to being surrounded by such crazy people.” Jongwoon covers up the receiver again to turn and explain to Ryeowook, slightly aware that he is beginning to ramble, eyes red and puffy from crying and frown deepening as he finishes, eyes beginning to glaze over again at the realization that he is actually accepting comfort from one of those ‘crazy people’.
“Well if it makes you feel any better, there’s no way that ex of yours will scare me away, no matter what kind of methods he uses. I’ve got nothing to lose anyway.” Jongwoon’s not really sure whether the other man’s words bring him more reassurance or discomfort so he simply decides to ignore them in favour of going back to the fascinating conversation with his mother.
“...Sorry mom, you were saying? No, it’s not that I’m not listening, it’s just that your awesome gift has a mouth and a penis now and is doing his best to try them out on me in all the ways he can think of. No mom, I am not coming to dinner to introduce him to you. Besides, hadn’t you met him before I had the privilege to? Oh wait, I forgot he was still a fucking vegetable at that point!”
Ryeowook can’t restrain himself from wincing at the sound of Jongwoon’s voice, raspy from abundant crying - not in a sexy way at all - and much too hysterical, and decides he’s had enough. Without so much as a word, he reaches up, snatching the phone from Jongwoon’s hand.
“Okay Mrs. Kim, your son is going to have amazing sex with his new turnip boyfriend right now so he’ll call you back later. Have a good day.” And he hangs up.
“Hey!” Jongwoon shouts accusingly, turning his head to kill Ryeowook with his deadly glare but the only thing he succeeds in is crashing his lips with Ryeowook’s, not that the other didn’t have it all planned out.
“Finally,” he mumbles into Jongwoon’s mouth before he pulls away, sticking out his tongue to lick their mixed saliva off his lips. “I’m gonna provide you with the much needed distraction. Sex or dinner? Because truth to be told, I’m damn hungry.”
“Or,” Ryeowook practically purrs, trailing a finger down Jongwoon’s chest and grinning in a rather distracting way. Jongwoon swallows audibly as Ryeowook leans up on his tiptoes to whisper, breath warm against his ear. “We can combine them both and you can have me on the table.”
“Guh?” Jongwoon manages to choke out rather intelligently, eyes going wide as saucers as the other man’s hands continue to roam over his body, eventually settling on hooking in his belt loops and Jongwoon’s breath hitches as he looks down to see bright eyes and kiss swollen lips.
“I really did end up with a winner, didn’t I? Answer the question Jongwoon. Would you like to have dinner, or me?” Ryeowook’s eyes light up in amusement at the other man’s obvious discomfort, and he could nearly grin at the fact that he hasn’t been pushed away yet as he watches the gears turn in Jongwoon’s head.
“I’m not gonna beat about the bush,” he blurts out suddenly, startling both Ryeowook and himself with the firmness of his voice. “I’m deprived. I haven’t had a good fuck for weeks. I’m not gonna say you’re not turning me on, because quite clearly, you are. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You’re lucky to have assumed a considerably sexy human form. You’ve been practically all over me since I accidentally rubbed you out of your turnip state and - believe it or not - it doesn’t really help me to focus. So if you’re asking me whether I want to have you on the table, I’m saying fine, let’s fuck. But it’d be just sex, nothing more, no feelings involved, so don’t expect me to fall head over heels in love with you because that just won’t happen.”
Ryeowook’s eyes go impossibly wide at Jongwoon’s unexpected speech and he unhooks his fingers from his belt loops with a sigh. “Dinner then.”
***
Dinner is a more than slightly awkward affair, and Jongwoon finds himself afraid of being poisoned when Ryeowook slams down a rather large plate of food with a bright smile on his face.
“Ryeowook…Are you okay? You aren’t going to poison me are you? I know I was a bit harsh earlier, but I did mean that.” Jongwoon ventures carefully, vaguely terrified at how happy the man seemed for being so decidedly unhappy only an hour before. It’s more than a little disconcerting and Jongwoon begins to wonder if he can add ‘bi polar’ to Ryeowook’s ever growing title.
“I’m just peachy Jongwoon, thanks for asking. I’ve decided that I like a challenge, so I’ll just have to wait until my fantastic wiles win you over. I’m not very worried, you’ll be taking it all back soon enough.” Ryeowook smiles another unnerving grin, and refuses to elaborate beyond that, simply staring down Jongwoon for the rest of his meal.
(TURNIP 2/5)
Authors: dreaminginside & kellsung
Pairing: YeWook, Ninja!HenMin, Ninja!SiTeuk
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: a whole lot of sex, semi-public fingering, rimming, blowjobs, multiple orgasms, vegetables turning into humans LOL
Word Count: ~45,000
Summary: Jongwoon is a poor fellow, loved by no one, late father included. This is the story of his life, in which there are rifles, cauliflowers, one very special turnip and a whole other cacophony of things (and magic vegetables) out to make Jongwoon cry. And he cries, a lot.
A/N1 (dreaminginside): My dearest bb in the whole wide world and I wrote this together, and it's been a long and fun journey, so all of you had better love it at least half as much as we do! I will cry more than Jongwoon if you don't! Enjoy!
A/N2 (kellsung): Okay so finally, after what seems like years and years of sweat, blood and tears (with a predominance of happy tears, I'd say) we're here with our first baby. I would like to thank dreaminginside for planting a turnip both in my mind and heart. I want it to grow there forever. I hope you'll enjoy reading it at least half as much as we enjoyed writing it!
Jongwoon has a room with a view.
His eyes sweep across the city that lies below his veranda, strangely beautiful when hidden from the smog shown in the daylight and buildings twinkling like millions of fireflies in the pitch of night. A view like this may have cost him a bit more than a pretty penny, but he finds it worth it to look over it when he has something to ponder. And he certainly does tonight, he muses as his robe is blown gently by the wind, eyes sliding down to the object sitting heavy in his hand. Such as why the hell he has a magic turnip in his possession.
It’s been a long day and Jongwoon can barely recall the events of the past few hours. Morning jogging, stepping into a dog poo, as per usual, buying bananas at the street market and a brief visit to his favourite gay bar on the way to his mother’s birthday party - it all seems to him strangely blurry, as if he just woke up from a dream. In retrospect, Jongwoon can’t really tell why he bought a huge bunch of bananas when it’s clearly wild strawberries that have always been his favourite fruit. He bites on the inside of his cheek in concentration; something’s off. He takes a peek down, boring eyes into the turnip, and then sighs heavily upon realizing that he still hasn’t wiped the dog poo off his shoe.
He ignores it in favor of the large white and purple vegetable lying in his hand, almost staring at him accusingly for holding and simply staring at it. He remembers his mother telling him once that it was rude to stare, but he believes vegetables to be exempt from this rule.
Speaking of his mother, he decides to blame his whole turnip dilemma on her. Before leaving her birthday party earlier in the afternoon she abruptly shoved the lumpy turnip in his hands and instructed him to take care of it as it was very important and special. He loves his mother dearly, but believes she may have finally lost her mind as this story is clearly not Jack and the Beanstalk, or rather turnip, and everyone knows that magic isn’t real.
Okay, so perhaps it’s not Jack and Beanstalk, Jongwoon reasons, but what if it’s a story akin to the one of Little Tiny? What if the turnip contains a pretty girl, or preferably, a pretty boy, waiting for Jongwoon to break an awful spell with a kiss? Jongwoon fights the urge to snort. He vaguely thinks his mother’s lunacy must have finally rubbed off on him. He starts considering throwing the turnip into the trash can when a sharp sound of the doorbell interrupts his meditations.
Jongwoon sighs and leaves the turnip in his grip as he walks back inside and opens the door, staring down at an old lady gazing up at him hopefully.
“For the last time Mrs. Lee, I don’t want to marry your daughter, I’m gay.” He says it slowly in the hope that it will sink in this time around and that he won’t have to deal with his crazy neighbor’s stalking anymore, but finds the woman’s eyes focused on the turnip in his hand.
“Is that a magic lamp?” She asks him and Jongwoon starts to think that everyone around him has simply gone crazy as it is obviously a simple turnip that anyone can buy at the market, not an object of any special importance, much less a lamp.
“Yes, yes, it’s a lamp!” he exclaims, far too enthusiastically, nearly pushing the turnip in the old lady’s face. “And it does magic too! You just need to, um, rub here - see? - just like that, and - holy shit balls mother fucker!”
Jongwoon literally jumps in fright as the turnip moans when rubbed and then rolls down to the floor, instantly bursting into flames. “I mean, see, my dear Mrs. Lee, that’s one amazing magic lamp, wanna buy it?”
The two stare at the flaming turnip on the floor momentarily before Mrs. Lee begins gesturing wildly at him.
“You can’t sell a magic lamp! You must take responsibility for what it is that you have done and deal with what you have created!” A bony finger stops mere inches from Jongwoon’s nose and he blinks before his eyes slide back to the flaming mess on his condo’s floor.
“Jesus Christ lady, it’s a flaming turnip that’s burning a hole in my floor, what do you want from me here?” Jongwoon watches with mild horror as the flames shift to show a sliver of red hair, completely different from what used to be a completely unassuming turnip.
“Ooookay, guys,” the high-pitched, coquettish voice comes out from the cloud of smoke hovering over the parquet. “What is all that commotion about? Disperse!”
Both Jongwoon and Mrs. Lee keep staring at the floor, confused beyond words and slightly disgusted as a little frame emerges from the smoke, red-haired, big-eyed and stark naked.
“They’ve been telling me over and over that people are no more than stupid, totally clueless creatures, and I guess I should have believed them when i still had a choice,” the turnip boy grumbles with a cocky smirk. “Now shoo, old hag, my new daddy needs to feed me.”
Jongwoon stares slack jawed as Mrs. Lee pats him lightly on the shoulder before wandering back to her own home down the hall.
He flounders for a few moments, trying desperately not to stare at the naked man in front of him before his mind is able to form coherent sentences again.
“Listen you turnip man lamp…thing! I am no ones father, and clearly I am dreaming and when I wake up there will be no more magic turnips or crazy ladies bothering me. God, what did I do to deserve this?”
The man snorts at him, arrogantly flipping his overgrown bangs out of his eyes. “Oh whatever human, take a joke. Of course I would end up with a dumb one, why would I end up any differently?”
Jongwoon feels insulted, pushes the turnip creature out of his apartment and slams the door shut. There.
He’s already managed to settle himself comfortably on the sofa in front of the tv, throwing his legs over the glass table and pressing a cushion hard against his chest, an action that he later identifies as a symptom of fear, when he hears the all too familiar voice, coming muffled from behind the door.
“Kim Jongwoon, 26, single and gay.” Jongwoon sighs. “Graduated from Sejong University, majored in Art and Design. Destroyed his brother’s favourite Spiderman toy in 1992; never confessed to the deed. Stole and sold his mother’s blender in 1997; his mother still blames the innocent plumber.”
“Has the bizarre hobby of collecting turtle paraphernalia and manages to scare away near everyone he meets with his creepiness. Somehow manages to become rich through a series of high end design jobs and manages to afford this posh condo in the city, nice place you have here by the way.” Jongwoon looks up, horrified to find the man wandering around his apartment as he
pleases, and belatedly remembers not locking the door.
“What are you, the turnip oracle? Come here to stalk the living hell out of me and then eat me alive or something?” Jongwoon puts his head in his hands, feeling a migraine coming on as high notes of laughter drop from the man’s mouth.
“No, it comes with the territory; I know everything about you because you were the one who picked me up. And no of course not! Don’t worry; I’ll kill you before I eat you.”
“Sure, sure, I get it now. So just go be a turnip oracle to my mother, kill her and eat her, should you wish to have a stringy meal. And even if you don’t, well that’s no difference really, because I’ll kill her anyway for presenting me with a speaking-walking vegetable and turning my life into HELL!”
“See that’s why people would usually want to kill you before eating you up,” the turnip man says cheekily, smirk forming on his lips, and Jongwoon could swear he winked at him the way slimy old men wink at big-breasted chicks in pink mini skirts. “But I’ve always kind of liked to go against the tide.”
“Well I suppose that bodes better for me, but stop leering at me like that, it’s rather disconcerting,” Jongwoon shifts uncomfortably as the man’s smirk grows, leer growing even more suggestive. “And you’re naked! Why are you naked exactly?”
“I was a turnip, what did you expect me to have on? Besides, don’t even pretend you aren’t enjoying it.” He flips his hair yet again and shrugs at Jongwoon, shooting a pleased grin in the other man’s direction and gesturing at his own pale skin.
“You’re gay after all, aren’t you?” He starts drawing closer to where Jongwoon’s sitting on the couch and lets him feast his eyes on his fully exposed milky-white skin. “Not your type?”
Jongwoon opens his mouth to say something, not really sure what exactly, but that’s not the point since right then the doorbell buzzes again and Jongwoon is too happy to be saved from the conversation with a leering turnip. At least until he opens the door and there’s a relatively tall man wiping his shoes on his doormat (dog poo), clad in old-fashioned clothes and with a sword fastened to his side, and for God’s sake, is he actually wearing a hat with a fucking plume?
“Kyuhyun-ah!” the turnip’s cheerful squeak comes from behind Jongwoon’s back and Jongwoon nearly passes out but in the end settles for a loud slap of his hand against his forehead. “You came for me!”
Jongwoon blinks owlishly as the strange man sighs, pulling the feather out of his hat to reveal it as a pen, and then a deteriorating piece of parchment from his side pocket. “Not for you, I came to give your unfortunate victim here his contract.”
“Unfortunate victim? I thought you weren’t going to eat me!” Jongwoon whispers harshly at the still naked man still standing slightly behind him, frowning at the man in the doorway even as he sighs and gestures at the paper in his hand, ignoring Jongwoon’s words.
“And I’m sure Ryeowook didn’t tell you about any of this, that’s just fantastic. Well Kim Jongwoon, Ryeowook is now your responsibility to take care of as it was you who released him from his natural state at 21:43. Now sign.”
Jongwoon’s eyes narrow to slits as he leans forwards, his face mere centimeters from the musketeer’s when he drawls through clenched teeth, “Am not signing anything, you... man in yellow stockings! And I am not to be responsible for that little turnip there so just take it away while I’m still being nice and well-mannered.”
A vicious grin that grows on the man’s face makes Jongwoon fairly uncomfortable and he clears his throat to hide the obvious signs of his trepidation as he feels his stomach sink
“Kim Jongwoon, you clueless human being. I was only kidding about the contract, this is just my shopping list,” the man chuckles, clearly amused. “Why would you need one anyway? It doesn’t matter whether you sign anything or not, Ryeowook’s yours until... well until he decides to join cauliflower in his pursuit of eternal veggie happiness. Which I doubt he will, ever.”
“Damn straight, that idiot does nothing but mumble something about vegetable nirvana and practically everyone who picks him up ends up killing themselves,” Ryeowook mumbles, looking slightly put out at having to stay under Jongwoon’s care. “In retrospect you’re quite lucky to have me; I practically radiate normality in comparison.”
Jongwoon fails to find anything normal about this situation, and briefly entertains the thought of this all being some insane dream and that he simply must check into a mental facility when he wakes up. Then he passes out.
“Oh now look what you’ve done Kyuhyun-ah, things were all going peachy until you came here. How is he supposed to feed me if he’s out cold?”
Kyuhyun knits his brows, probably allowing himself to fall into meditation. He struggles to find an answer, the answer, and it’s not until a few minutes later than he returns to the world of the living, signs of epiphany clearly visible in his sparkling eyes and generally, all over his face. “I da naaaaaa.”
Oh.
***
Jongwoon wakes up two days later. Not that he’s aware of that, at least not until he looks at his phone and the screen informs him that it’s 10:22, Monday, August the 21st. No longer weekend.
FUCK, IT’S NO LONGER WEEKEND AND IT’S 10:22, WHERE ARE HIS PANTS AND OH MY GOD, HE’S SO SCREWED.
He makes a mad scramble off the couch to try and stumble to his bedroom, and the only thing that brightens the fact that his boss is probably going to kill him for being late for work is that it appears that ‘events’ of the previous days were just a nightmare. He supposes he doesn’t have to check himself into the asylum now and feels a small smile begin to tug at his lips that stops dead when he walks into his bedroom.
“I was wondering when you were going to wake up, do you have any idea how boring your house is after the first day? And you hardly have any food; we’re going to have to go grocery shopping sometime soon.” Ryeowook says lazily from his perch on Jongwoon’s bed, still naked, and eying the other man with no small amount of mischief in his eyes.
“You were supposed to have been a dream!”
Jongwoon briefly wonders how inappropriate it would be of him to burst into tears. He vaguely recalls his late father’s words, something along the lines of “Son, men never cry. Men kill.” (he was a zealous hunter) and he concludes that rather than crying, he should go find his rifle, the only thing his father left him - the money, the house in the Maldives and two cars were all inherited by his younger brother. Such is his luck, he figures, and he turns around, making his way towards the exit. “You’d better be gone when I’m back.”
Clearly, he misses a sly smile creeping up Ryeowook’s face.
“If that helps you get through the day then keep thinking it.” Ryeowook calls after him as Jongwoon continues down the hallway and pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “But just so you know, I’m sleeping in this bed, it’s quite comfortable. So be a gentleman and take the couch or don’t and then you can make my stay here truly entertaining.”
Jongwoon can hear the leer in the other man’s voice and nearly bangs his head against the door in frustration, weighing the penalties of murder versus the hell his life seems to have turned into.
“I don’t care, just leave me alone and go back to the turnip farm or wherever it is you came from.” And then he slams the door behind him, praying to every God in existence that Ryeowook will be gone by the time he gets home.
***
It seems like his prayers have been utterly and absolutely ignored, which he becomes perfectly aware of upon turning the key in the lock. It certainly wasn’t a good day, his boss taking his frustrations out on him, and quite understandably so, the street market closed due to a “plague of an unspecified lethal disease, spread by sharing underboiled cauliflower,” and his favourite gay bar closed as well, due to the same causes. Jongwoon would be lying if he denied being panic-stricken at that point.
“Okay, little turnip... something, you’re leaving,” Jongwoon growls, yanking up the other man by the collar and pulling him towards the door as soon as he steps across the threshold and sees him sprawled out on the couch. His couch.
“Oh no, I’m not going anywhere. I was perfectly happy being a turnip and then you had to go and cause the reaction and turned me into a human; it is your responsibility to take care of me and keep me happy. If I’m going anywhere it’s grocery shopping with you because frankly, your food is dismal at best.” Ryeowook slaps Jongwoon’s hand off of the collar of his button up,
borrowed from the human’s closet of course, and points an accusing finger at Jongwoon’s (empty) kitchen.
“The only thing I’m in the mood for right now is turnip stew.” Jongwoon mumbles to himself, frowning sadly at the thought of what his life has become, playing babysitter to some strange vegetable person.
“Well that can be arranged, but we’re not making anything until we go shopping. Nothing cauliflower though, that dumbass seems to be in one of his moods again and it’s affecting all of his kind.”
Jogwoon really wishes to say something clever to that. He really does but, sadly, he has never been exceptionally skillful with words so he only sighs, letting go of Ryeowook’s, or rather his own, shirt and slumping to the couch with resignation. “You know what, I have a brilliant idea,” he suddenly exclaims, nearly jumping back to his feet in glee, but not quite. “How about you go shopping, stuff yourself with whatever you crazy vegetables feed on and stay away from my place till the end of your pitiful vegetable life?”
“I... need you to go with me, you’re my carer now, we need to go together everywhere,” comes a silent answer and Jongwoon’s pretty much speechless at the coyness in the other’s voice.
“…Everywhere?” Jongwoon finds his heart sinking down to his feet as he imagines this lunatic with him, everywhere, for the rest of his life. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to jump off my veranda now.”
“Oh for the love of- take a joke already! And you aren’t killing yourself until we get some decent ingredients in here and I can make dinner, I’ll have you know I haven’t eaten anything beyond granola bars. Now come on, we’re going shopping.” Ryeowook catches him by the end of his sleeve and begins dragging him out the door, all the while ignoring the pleas to just let Jongwoon end his pitiful life.
“And no more of those suicidal thoughts, because if you kill yourself then I’ll die too. In all seriousness, we are connected now and I have no wishes to die quite yet.”
“This is... this is even lower than emotional blackmail, are you aware?” Jongwoon hisses, but allows Ryeowook to pull him by the sleeve down the stairs anyway. He thinks he must be out of his mind himself, letting that red-haired half-turnip half-human turn his life upside down instead of grabbing his rifle and- “Wait. Are you trying to say that if one of us dies, the other one follows suit? No matter which one kicks the bucket first?” Ryeowook keeps silent and Jongwoon stops abruptly, fairly disconcerted, feeling a sharp tug of Ryewoook’s arm. (And when exaclty has Ryeowook’s hand wrapped itself around his?)
“My, you are a sharp one, aren’t you?” Ryeowook says sarcastically and squeezes his hand once more to get him moving again, making their way out of the building and onto the street. “That’s correct, so stop trying to kill me too. Oh if only you hadn’t passed out, Kyuhyunnie could have explained this whole thing to you and saved me all this trouble. Now lead away, I have no idea where I’m going and we need to get to a grocery store. Clothes that actually fit me would be nice too.”
Jongwoon’s eyes roam down Ryeowook’s slim figure and he admits to himself that his own clothes don’t fit the other man very well, shirt nearly hanging off the man’s narrow frame and pants rolled up to prevent him from tripping over them.
“Why can’t you just turn back into a turnip and save me the money and mental agony?”
“Doesn’t work this way,” Ryeowook says lightly, looking up at Jongwoon with a wide grin. “Once a human, forever a human. Or something. You can’t just turn a human into a turnip!”
“Clearly I had no problems turning a turnip into a human,” Jongwoon mumbles under his breath, looking around nervously to make sure no acquaintances of his are in their vicinity.
“Well it’s obviously not the same thing, Jongwoon,” he says in a patronizing tone. “Besides, you rubbed me and it felt good, did you expect me to be satisfied with just that?”
Jongwoon sputters wordlessly for a few moments before settling on glaring unhappily at the other man. “I simply have no words for you. No words! Are you some kind of incubus turnip too? All you seem to do is make innuendo at me, not to mention all that running around naked!”
“Baby,” Ryeowook drawls, grinning brightly at Jongwoon’s growing uncomfortableness and holding steadfast onto his hand when he tries to wriggle away. “I can be any kind of turnip you want me to be. But technically I’m a man now, so I wish you would refer to me as such.”
“Fine, fine, you’re a man. Now go find yourself a nice lady, court her for a while and then get her pregnant so that both of you can run a turnip farm or whatever.” Jongwoon’s busy being pleased with the clear manifestation of his admirable wit, when Ryeowook painfully tightens his grip around Jongwoon’s hand, and it’a a warning.
“Kim Jongwoon, how many times do I need to tell you. I’m yours and you’re mine - our lives are interdependent. You try to get rid of me and I’m gonna make sure you’ll regret it till the end of your miserable life. Besides, I’m not really into women; I grew up among cauliflowers, there are no female cauliflowers, Jongwoon.”
“Cauliflowers have genders?” Jongwoon decides to focus on the less threatening part of Ryeowook’s speech, the other being the whole interdependent lives thing which may cause another small mental breakdown if he forces himself to think about it too much. Unfortunately, Ryeowook chooses to latch onto that exact subject instead and seems to take no small amount of glee in the mental havoc it wreaks.
“Clearly you are focusing on the wrong part of that explanation, human; it would be more to your benefit to question me about our whole intertwined existences. Or what type of ring you should be buying me when you propose of course.” Ryeowook’s eyes sparkle as Jongwoon goes pale, clearly uncomfortable and fidgeting where they stopped on the sidewalk.
“Or where and when to kiss me for the first time to make the experience exceptionally memorable. And enjoyable.” That said, Ryeowook pushes against Jongwoon’s chest, making use of his temporary absent-mindedness, and backs him up the brick wall of an old tenement house, people casting disgusted glances at them looking like they’re having a lovers fight in the broad daylight in the middle of the street. “Which might as well be now, I don’t really mind.”
Jongwoon clenches his fingers on Ryeowook’s shoulders, pushing against him with all the force he can muster, but quickly learns that the latter has far more strength than he would ever expect any turnip to have. Such is the charm of a magic turnip, Jongwoon figures as he pushes against him once again, this time succeeding in flipping them around.
“Okay listen you crazy turnip, for the last time I am not interested in your-” Jongwoon tries to explain to Ryeowook how completely uninterested he is in any kind of relationship with a vegetable when he’s cut off by warm lips covering his own, Ryeowook’s hand curling around the back of Jongwoon’s neck to keep him pressed into the kiss as he begins to flail around and tries to push away.
“Calm down would you, you’re ruining the moment.” Ryeowook mumbles into the kiss, looking directly into Jongwoon’s wide eyes and smirking as he pulls away with a final peck and a satisfied hum.
“Aww, what a lovely spectacle I seem to have wandered in on. Finally found someone to put up with you, Ryeowook?”
“Fuck,” Jongwoon thinks he hears Ryeowook hiss and next thing he knows, he’s being pulled by Ryeowook and speeding down the street, their hands linked. “What -”
“Just keep going,” Ryeowook cuts Jongwoon off as he glares at him over his shoulder, voice sharp and determined, nothing like it was before. “Unless you want to fall victim to that obnoxious vegetable.”
Jongwoon briefly wonders how ironic and highly inappropriate the words sound coming from Ryeowook’s mouth but decides to keep quiet in favour of letting the turnip man continue with his explanations. “HHjdjfjjgjvjHeechul, that goddamn asshole. I’ve heard he’s fooling around, stealing people’s - well, vegetables’ - boyfriends, but I didn’t expect he’d dress up as a woman to lure somebody else’s prey. You’re my prey, Jongwoon, mine. I suggest that you keep that in mind.”
“….You just kissed me!” Jongwoon is slightly dismayed at this new turn of events and chooses to tune out Ryeowook and his strange vegetable world yet again for the sake of his own sanity. “I don’t understand you! What do you even mean by prey?”
Ryeowook lets up on his glare for a moment in order for a smirk to cross his features. “You do so love pointing out the obvious, don’t you? That I did, and therefore the deal is done and you are mine. You would do well not to forget that, it would cause consequences for the both of us.”
Jongwoon’s face completely falls and he sees the world begin to spin again, finding the weight of Ryeowook’s hand still clutching his own being the only thing keeping him grounded to reality, and belatedly realizes that they are finally in front of the grocery store.
***
Jongwoon has always been a nice guy. (He honestly believes that the very few deeds of mischief he has done so far, including toy breaking and blender stealing, are by no means a blot on his character). He donates money to charities because he’s rich, and pays his bills on time because he’s a “fucking pedant” (his brother’s words.) He has always been a loving son and brother, except maybe the times when he wasn’t. But then again, all children have bad and good days, don’t they. Therefore, he has never ceased to wonder why the only thing his father left him was an old, rusty rifle. Until now.
“He must have known...” Jongwoon mutters, watching with no small amount of horror as Ryeowook stuffs the trolley with enormous amounts of semolina. “He must have predicted it... somehow. Oh god, he loved me after all, he just wanted me to put an end to myself before this happens.”
“You done?”
“No,” Jongwoon snaps, glaring disdainfully at the full cart, and feels his wallet emptying already. “I am not done and I would like to keep talking to myself until we get back to my house and I can dig up that damn rifle.”
Ryeowook merely sighs as if chastising a child and pats Jongwoon on the head. “You silly human, how many times am I going to have to tell you that we are connected? And as I have no wish to die yet, I’m certainly not going to stand around and let you put an end to your miserable little existence. Besides, this is the most fun I’ve had in years!”
Jongwoon frowns as Ryeowook tugs him along to the register, and has to restrain a pained whimper as the woman ringing up their groceries coos over their entwined hands and what a ‘cute couple they make’, only strengthening his resolve to remember where exactly he put that gun.
“I really like the way your tiny hand fits perfectly in mine, you know” Ryeowook almost chirps once the doors slide shut behind them and Jongwoon has to clench his fist in order not to
faceplam himself. Or punch the vegetable in the face. “I know, me too.”
Ryeowook beams. “Right? God, you think so too?”
“No!” Jongwoon rasps out, trying to wrench himself free. “Do you even know what sarcasm is? Now let go of my hand and please, go your own way? I kind of have plans for my life already, you know. You can’t just walk into someone’s life and start ordering them around like that!”
“Well it’s your fault that I’m here anyway, you just had to go and rub me out of being a turnip and into one of you humans. I’d say I have some rights to turn your life upside down; it’s what you’ve done to mine! How would you like it if I rubbed you and you turned into a vegetable?” Ryeowook nearly pouts and Jongwoon finds himself feeling slightly nauseous.
“I don’t think that would be the exact outcome.” Jongwoon mutters nervously as they continue down the street, Ryeowook having taken to swinging their hands between them, trapping them there in a vice grip. Ryeowook’s pout turns a bright grin at his words though, and Jongwoon finds himself dreading whatever is about to come out of the man’s mouth.
And quite understandably so because as soon as they enter the apartment, Jongwoon finds himself being shoved up against the door. This really needs to stop.
“Kiss me,” Ryeowook breathes, hands on Jongwoon’s shoulders, fingers digging into the warm flesh there, covered only by a thin fabric of his shirt. “There’s no people here, we’re alone, just the two of us, and I miss your lips on mine. So just kiss me, Jongwoon.”
And there it is, the roll of Ryeowook’s hips, gentle and experimental and barely-there but Jongwoon can feel it, he can feel it all too well. “Kiss me.”
The bags with groceries hit the floor.
He really is an incubus turnip, Jongwoon thinks as thin arms wrap around his neck again, Ryeowook’s mouth so close that he can feel the puffs of air against his own lips as the other pleads for a kiss, eyes dark and hips restless. He doesn’t move any closer though, leaving Jongwoon frozen against the door and wide eyed, at a loss of what to do at such a turn of events.
“I started it last time; it’s up to you to reciprocate if this pact is going to work, Jongwoon. Now make your decision.” Ryeowook’s lips are nearly touching his own and he finds it a bit harder to focus in on anything anymore, let alone whatever vegetable destiny nonsense Ryeowook is spouting again, and decides to throw caution (and sanity) to the wind as he closes what little distance remains between them.
Jongwoon feels Ryeowook smile into the kiss and before he can pull away to reconsider what exactly he has just dragged himself into, the other man’s hands slide up into his hair and completely take away any previous option of escape, holding him in place.
Panic doesn’t come over him until he feels a warm, wet muscle slide across his lips. That’s when he snaps.
“Ryeowook, what the hell are you eve-mmmmm.” Ryeowook’s tongue finally finds its way into Jongwoon’s mouth, successfully muffling the latter’s protests, and Jongwoon thinks he hears the man let out a little moan of satisfaction, a moan that, Jongwoon muses, would perhaps even pass as arousing if it wasn’t produced by a fricking vegetable.
“I’m not very experienced when it comes to relationships with humans,” Ryeowook mumbles into the kiss, fingers still buried in Jongwoon’s hair, “but I think I want you.”
Jongwoon’s eyes go impossibly wide at the man’s admission and he nearly faints in horror at the thought of having to give sex ed while pressed against his doorway and having his lips ravished by someone (or thing, he’s not even sure what title to give Ryeowook at this point) that doesn’t even know what these feelings mean with a real person.
“You don’t know?” He squeaks out before Ryeowook can manage to smash their faces together again. “Please tell me you at least know how sex works. Not that I want to have it with you. I have no feelings of want towards you. At all.”
“Methinks the human doth protest too much. And don’t insult me Jongwoon, I know how it works, I just haven’t done that with someone like you.”
“Not with someone like me? Jongwoon snorts, shaking his head from side to side with a fake smile. “Oh yes, because all sexual encounters you have had so far were with cucumbers and squashes?”
“Green beans,” Ryeowook corrects with an almost-pout.
“Like there’s any difference!” Jongwoon snarls, clearly infuriated by the ridiculousness of the whole situation and reaches up, fingers tightening around Ryeowook’s shoulders, determined to push him away. He has never been exceptionally good at hiding his emotions and the truth is, Ryeowook makes him pissed as fuck but fuck, he sort of misses that. It’s been quite a while since he had a good lay and he nearly slaps himself as he realizes that he’s actually considering giving up to Ryeowook’s advances.
“There is plenty of difference you stupid human, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but vegetables aren’t quite built the same as you humans.” Ryeowook scoffs as his hands travel down to trace lazy circles on Jongwoon’s chest. Jongwoon has to wonder exactly how lonely he is at night when he doesn’t immediately flinch away, and resolves himself to finding a nice and exceptionally normal boyfriend once he has this whole vegetable nightmare behind him.
“Well how am I supposed to know, there aren’t exactly people out there who study the sexual habits of vegetables, and I’m certainly not the kind of person who would be into that kind of thing anyway even if it did exist!” Jongwoon pushes against Ryeowook’s shoulder a little harder to no avail, now effectively pinned by hands pressing against his chest as Ryeowook flashes another grin at him.
“I can show you my sexual habits, Jongwoon,” Ryeowook drawls seductively, leaning up to catch Jongwoon’s earlobe with his lips. The turnip man’s mouth is warm and wet and sort of amazing, even Jongwoon must admit it, and the way he flicks his tongue over the shell of Jongwoon’s ear has him sliding his hands all the way down from Ryeowook’s shoulders to his hips, taking a firm hold of a pair of jutting hipbones. “Show me.” Jongwoon has no idea why he would say such a thing and in a way that almost makes him facepalm, but he figures it might be connected to those lips now trailing kisses down his neck and those hips, pressing insistently into his, and that voice, impossibly soft as he lets out a single gasp of his name, “Jongwoon...”
“You haven’t done it with that goddamn cauliflower, have you?!” Well that wasn’t quite what Ryeowook was expecting to hear.
“Well of course I haven’t, I do have standards you know.” Ryeowook sighs, and here he thought that they were having quite the moment there and could actually get somewhere without Jongwoon opening his mouth to ask inane questions. “Now look, you’ve ruined the moment again. Here I am, wanting you, and it’s pretty obvious you want me too, so why do you restrain yourself?” Ryeowook glances rather pointedly down at the bulge in Jongwoon’s pants and is about to make another move of his own when the phone rings.
“Oh look the phone, well damn, looks like you’ll have to move the hell out of the way for me to get that now, you never know how gosh darn important a call might be. So get off of me Ryeowook!”
In response to that, Ryeowook grunts something incomprehensible in a manner that gives away his utter disappointment, lips instantly curling into a pout. He lets go of Jongwoon reluctantly and watches with an unamused expression as he speeds across the room to pick up the phone.
“Hello?” Jongwoon chokes into the mouthpiece, grip tight around the receiver because he just needs to divert his attention from that funny feeling down in his pants. “Oh hi mom, nice of you to be calling me on a beautiful summer day like this. Any particular reason why you actually dialled my number? Did you run out of dustbin liners? The house is on fire? Burglars broke in and stole Monet? You want to know whether I ate that stupid turnip?”
There’s a brief moment of silence on Jongwoon’s part. “OH MY GOD, YOU KNEW! YOU GAVE ME THAT GODDAMN TURNIP ON PURPOSE DIDN’T YOU? YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN AND IT WOULD TURN INTO SOME KIND OF INCUBUS BENT ON HAVING SEX WITH ME! ...WHAT DO YOU MEAN I SHOULD HAVE READ THE INSTRCUTIONS, TURNIPS DON’T HAVE INSTRUCTIONS!” Jongwoon is flailing around uselessly while clutching the phone, and Ryeowook finds himself slightly amused despite his growing annoyance.
“No I didn’t read the fine print, turnips don’t have those either! Why don’t you just check into the looney bin and save us all the trouble? Or better yet, check me in to get me away from this crazy vegetable. Why couldn’t you give it to Jongjin? I always knew father loved him more but I didn’t expect this from you too! At least he gave me a rifle instead of a turnip!”
Jongwoon finds himself nearing tears as his mother continues to explain that she simply didn’t want her oldest son to feel so lonely anymore, so she thought she would give him a vegetable to keep him company. He cannot figure out what type of logic this is, and promptly bursts into loud, ugly sobs.
“What? No, I’m not crying mom, it’s just the sound of my soul whining in despair. Yes, of course it’s your fault, because hey, turns out you never loved me! For God’s sake, why am I suddenly a black sheep in this family? No mom, I won’t listen, I’m in the middle of going through a nervous breakdown!” Jongwoon pauses for a moment to catch his breath and immediately learns it's been a huge mistake on his part. He clenches his fingers around the receiver and endures nonetheless, shaking his head at the nonsense that sips into his ear. “No mom, I do not intend to rub the turnip again, one time was more than enough already and what kind of question is that anyway?”
Ryeowook stares at the other man in amazement, partly because he’s damn ugly when he cries like that, face red and fat tears dripping down his chin, and he didn’t suspect humans can look that ugly, and partly because dude, Jongwoon’s actually crying over the fact that his mother wanted to give him a vegetable companion and his dad wordlessly suggested that he kill himself with a rusty rifle. Ryeowook doesn’t exactly know why but he finds himself vaguely moved by the whole image and before he knows it, he’s wrapping his arms around Jongwoon’s chest from behind.
“Oh hush you baby, you’re a big girl now. You can’t cry every time life doesn’t go the way you want it, you know that.” Ryeowook murmurs into the back of Jongwoon’s neck, even as the other continues to wail into the phone and the tears continue to make long tracks down his cheeks. “And you’re not that bad off, I mean, I am making you less lonely, aren’t I?”
“I would rather be a eunuch for the rest of my days than have you to keep me company! Do you even understand what I’m feeling right now? I’m so damn confused, I just want to go cry in the corner in peace and have all of you psycho people leave me alone!” Jongwoon’s eyes are still watery as he turns his head to hiss at Ryeowook, not even caring at the arms that lowered to wind around his waist and voice verging more on hysteria with each passing moment.
“Oh god, close up your tearful face is even uglier,” Ryeowook points out before leaning up and pressing a firm kiss to the corner of the other’s mouth. Jongwoon’s mildly surprised at how he doesn’t really wish to turn away but he does so nonetheless because the voice in the receiver reaches the volume of a particularly loud shriek.
“Still here mom,” he half-whines, half-sobs into the phone, thin arms tightening around him. “What sound? No we didn’t just kiss, what kind of nonsense are you spouting. You just-WHAT? What do you mean, by the way your ex-boyfriend’s looking for you?” Jongwoon takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, allowing the fantastic piece of information to sink in. “That’s just lovely. Did you tell him, by any chance, that I have a gay vegetable boyfriend now and therefore am not in the least interested in his services?”
Ryeowook loosens his grip around Jongwoon’s waist, straining to hear each and every word that escapes the receiver. He frowns into Jongwoon’s nape as the said ex-boyfriend’s name is brought up. It’s not a name that goes well with “Jongwoon”, Ryeowook decides.
“Mom, you know Siwon can be damn scary. No, I can assure you Ryeowook wouldn’t protect me, he’s like 170 centimeters tall - or rather short - at best, for Christ’s sakes!”
“I resent that,” Ryeowook mumbles forlornly, moving his chin to rest lightly on Jongwoon’s shoulder and accepting this emotional turmoil as a step in the right direction since the other man has yet to shake him off, and merely continues to sniffle loudly, barely even reacting to their previous kiss. “I wasn’t the one who decided how tall I’d be, just be glad I’m taller than the average turnip at this point. Besides, what is your ex, a giant?”
“In a manner of speaking, he’s bigger than you in any case. He’s mostly a painfully persistent bible thumper who seems to think he’s a ‘soldier of light’, or something inane sounding like that. I think I was blinded by his abs and dimples, I really have no idea how we managed to be dating, but he seems to have made it his mission to scare away every single boyfriend I’ve had since we broke up. You know, I think I’m just cursed, that can be the only explanation to being surrounded by such crazy people.” Jongwoon covers up the receiver again to turn and explain to Ryeowook, slightly aware that he is beginning to ramble, eyes red and puffy from crying and frown deepening as he finishes, eyes beginning to glaze over again at the realization that he is actually accepting comfort from one of those ‘crazy people’.
“Well if it makes you feel any better, there’s no way that ex of yours will scare me away, no matter what kind of methods he uses. I’ve got nothing to lose anyway.” Jongwoon’s not really sure whether the other man’s words bring him more reassurance or discomfort so he simply decides to ignore them in favour of going back to the fascinating conversation with his mother.
“...Sorry mom, you were saying? No, it’s not that I’m not listening, it’s just that your awesome gift has a mouth and a penis now and is doing his best to try them out on me in all the ways he can think of. No mom, I am not coming to dinner to introduce him to you. Besides, hadn’t you met him before I had the privilege to? Oh wait, I forgot he was still a fucking vegetable at that point!”
Ryeowook can’t restrain himself from wincing at the sound of Jongwoon’s voice, raspy from abundant crying - not in a sexy way at all - and much too hysterical, and decides he’s had enough. Without so much as a word, he reaches up, snatching the phone from Jongwoon’s hand.
“Okay Mrs. Kim, your son is going to have amazing sex with his new turnip boyfriend right now so he’ll call you back later. Have a good day.” And he hangs up.
“Hey!” Jongwoon shouts accusingly, turning his head to kill Ryeowook with his deadly glare but the only thing he succeeds in is crashing his lips with Ryeowook’s, not that the other didn’t have it all planned out.
“Finally,” he mumbles into Jongwoon’s mouth before he pulls away, sticking out his tongue to lick their mixed saliva off his lips. “I’m gonna provide you with the much needed distraction. Sex or dinner? Because truth to be told, I’m damn hungry.”
“Or,” Ryeowook practically purrs, trailing a finger down Jongwoon’s chest and grinning in a rather distracting way. Jongwoon swallows audibly as Ryeowook leans up on his tiptoes to whisper, breath warm against his ear. “We can combine them both and you can have me on the table.”
“Guh?” Jongwoon manages to choke out rather intelligently, eyes going wide as saucers as the other man’s hands continue to roam over his body, eventually settling on hooking in his belt loops and Jongwoon’s breath hitches as he looks down to see bright eyes and kiss swollen lips.
“I really did end up with a winner, didn’t I? Answer the question Jongwoon. Would you like to have dinner, or me?” Ryeowook’s eyes light up in amusement at the other man’s obvious discomfort, and he could nearly grin at the fact that he hasn’t been pushed away yet as he watches the gears turn in Jongwoon’s head.
“I’m not gonna beat about the bush,” he blurts out suddenly, startling both Ryeowook and himself with the firmness of his voice. “I’m deprived. I haven’t had a good fuck for weeks. I’m not gonna say you’re not turning me on, because quite clearly, you are. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You’re lucky to have assumed a considerably sexy human form. You’ve been practically all over me since I accidentally rubbed you out of your turnip state and - believe it or not - it doesn’t really help me to focus. So if you’re asking me whether I want to have you on the table, I’m saying fine, let’s fuck. But it’d be just sex, nothing more, no feelings involved, so don’t expect me to fall head over heels in love with you because that just won’t happen.”
Ryeowook’s eyes go impossibly wide at Jongwoon’s unexpected speech and he unhooks his fingers from his belt loops with a sigh. “Dinner then.”
***
Dinner is a more than slightly awkward affair, and Jongwoon finds himself afraid of being poisoned when Ryeowook slams down a rather large plate of food with a bright smile on his face.
“Ryeowook…Are you okay? You aren’t going to poison me are you? I know I was a bit harsh earlier, but I did mean that.” Jongwoon ventures carefully, vaguely terrified at how happy the man seemed for being so decidedly unhappy only an hour before. It’s more than a little disconcerting and Jongwoon begins to wonder if he can add ‘bi polar’ to Ryeowook’s ever growing title.
“I’m just peachy Jongwoon, thanks for asking. I’ve decided that I like a challenge, so I’ll just have to wait until my fantastic wiles win you over. I’m not very worried, you’ll be taking it all back soon enough.” Ryeowook smiles another unnerving grin, and refuses to elaborate beyond that, simply staring down Jongwoon for the rest of his meal.
(TURNIP 2/5)