[Fic] Protection
Title: Protection
Pairing: Kris/Chanyeol, Lu Han/Xiumin, Suho/Kai, Tablo/Kangta, Zhou Mi/Changmin, Zhou Mi/Tao
Rating: R
Genre: AU
Summary: Six prompts with different pairings.
***
Prompt: krisyeol bodyguard!au fic with chanyeol as the bodyguard.. a little bit (or lots) of angst are preferred, but fluff is okay too.
***
“Kris,” he groaned, and it came out as nothing less than begging.
When he thought of them sometimes, he thought of those times, the gasps of names, and stretch of skin. Kris’s eyes when he held up Chanyeol’s hips with an arm, the fingers of his free hand tangled in Chanyeol’s hair.
The only thing he had to be grateful for was that it hadn’t started in anger, or lowered inhibition. They’d been nose to nose before, Chanyeol’s lectures causing Kris’s pretty mouth to sneer. That night, it had been almost a dare of how close they could get before the other shying away.
It turned out there had been no turning away for either of them.
How long they’d pressed against that line without crossing it. How long they had pretended they’d needed something else.
Chanyeol never took personal calls during work as a rule, but he’d always seen fit to mention a missed call from his girlfriend. She’d been beautiful and smart and everything he’d thought he should want, and so had the woman after her, and the one after that. He watched as Kris went to award shows on the arms of beautiful actresses, laughing at jokes, and sitting near them through long and boring sequences.
A couple had even gone home with them, Chanyeol staring out the window as street lights flashed, and Kris’s laughter drifted from the back. The women left the next morning as perfectly put together as they’d arrived, and never came back twice.
None of them had ever tried to insinuate that Chanyeol should’ve joined them for a threesome, though he flattered himself with the thought a couple of times.
Though he acknowledged his interest had been far from the women, beautiful as they were.
But one day it had been him waking in Kris’s bed, a warm hand spread against his chest and legs tangled with his. And he’d sat up as Kris had slept, eyes wild and hair standing up.
He should’ve gone then, should’ve gone months before that, should’ve realized what was going on before Kris’s hand had tugged him back against Kris’s chest, a kiss against his cheek.
“Chanyeol. Too early,” Kris complained, and held them both still.
When he closed his eyes he could still see Kris’s smile when he woke, when he’d asked Chanyeol what he wanted to eat, and the careless way Kris had tweaked a lock of hair off of Chanyeol’s forehead.
When he thought of that, he wondered if running had been the right choice.
***
The number of people taller than him that he had guarded was pretty small. He actually preferred it that way, because it allowed him glances over heads, more of a view of potential danger. Kris was different in a lot of ways, not only in the height aspect. Chanyeol had guarded high profile clients, and some famous ones. Kris had his high maintenance moments, and he certainly guarded his sleeping time jealously. For being as famous as he was, though, and as rich, he didn’t treat Chanyeol as though he was a servant. Though there were always moments.
“You should loosen up a little,” was a thing that Kris told him at times, a thing that occasionally made him laugh. It was as though Kris was trying to tell him that it’d be okay to just kick back and relax, maybe put in his headphones because there would never be any issues.
Not like Chanyeol had ever had to call in reinforcements because of a fan trying to get into Kris’s car or home, or the media for that matter. Kris wasn’t paying him to languish in a lounge chair sipping cocktails and enjoy being one of the most famous men in Korea’s bodyguard.
When they went out, he had to make sure of where they were going, had to be at Kris’s side to get him where he needed to go without being trampled or groped. He was the one who organized the security teams, and growled at the airports, and put his foot down when Kris’s manager suggested doing something by the river. That, or any other place that Chanyeol had no shot of protecting Kris at. It wasn’t as though Chanyeol wanted Kris barricaded in his condo at all hours.
“The hottest actor in the world!” the headlines all proclaimed.
They had no idea that Kris, once tired, would sleep until he couldn’t any more, or that he walked around with hideous green goop on his face.
All they saw were the absent smiles, the gestured greetings, and fleeting grins. Kris’s hair had been blond, black, brown, copper. Kris’s head at that particular moment was a dark brown that tended to red in the sun. Fans online were in raptures about it, a fact that Chanyeol exploited at times, reading fan comments until Kris went from scoffing to shyly pleased.
How one of the most popular men in Asia could still get embarrassed, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t deny that he liked it. For all the stress of his job, all the tense hours, that was why he stayed.
“Relax,” Kris said, not even looking at him from where he was reading. Maybe he would have, had they been in the condo. But they were in a waiting room, waiting for an interview that Kris’s manager was already chewing ears about being late.
“Not until your next bodyguard comes on duty,” Chanyeol said, crossing his legs the other way.
Kris looked up from his magazine. “I don’t have another bodyguard.”
Exactly.
***
“Maybe if you were a foot shorter and blended in,” Chanyeol said, when Kris mused out loud If he would ever get to go on even a date alone. “Sending you out alone would be like I was sending out some guy in a drama. You’d end up with a horde.”
“I’m an adult,” Kris reasoned.
“Then your adult powers must be telling you that I’m right. I’ll go with you.”
“A date with my bodyguard. Great.”
Chanyeol scoffed but it was really all he could do from the discontent in Kris’s face and voice. It wasn’t as though he took pleasure in denying Kris what he wanted.
“Though you could be worse to spend time with,” Kris said as though he felt bad about what he’d said. Sometimes Chanyeol was better at schooling his features than others. But it was better that Kris thought his feelings were hurt about the time spent and not because it sounded like Kris would rather date anyone else. It wasn’t as though Kris knew, not like Chanyeol told him over hours of board games on nights Kris had nothing better to do and no will to do anything else. He hadn’t heard Kris complaining about him then, watching Kris sample wine and throwing chips at each other.
The anger of the loss of independence was something Chanyeol had seen a lot of. It was pretty bad among the teenagers he had looked after but the adults, the ones that had not had their wellbeing threatened -and some even that had - felt it was their right to do as they pleased. Even if it endangered them. It endangered Chanyeol as well, his livelihood. He’d never lost a client yet, not in any sense, and he intended to keep it that way.
Kris was his client but Kris’s company had done the hiring. Kris was like any other asset that needed protecting. But Kris wasn’t a car or a house. He was something irreplaceable.
***
Sometimes Kris stared at him. It wasn’t so much unnerving as it was perplexing. Chanyeol had certainly been stared at before, though in school it had usually been in hope he would be quiet, and on the street in shock when people came up beside him. But Kris had never looked at him like that.
His first check was to see if he had food still stuck to his face, and barring that he looked behind himself to see if- No. There was just a wall back there. Then he was pretty sure.
Kris was messing with him.
And he knew it too, when Kris kicked out at him, a smile twisting his lips as he went back to the book he was reading.
But it happened again as they were eating, and again when Kris ought to have been paying attention to the TV. Sometimes all they did was make faces at each other. If only the adoring masses knew the strange shapes Kris’s face could morph into.
But he wasn’t fooling himself that they’d find it anything other than endearing. Or maybe he was.
There were reasons they were rotated occasionally, and it wasn’t just to keep a fresh on on security situations. It kept them from losing perspective, getting complacent, causing undue danger for their clients. There was a point at which emotional investment became almost guarantee, sometimes for the client as much as for them. Each situation was different.
If Kris thought he was uptight when they were secure in Kris’s apartment, then when they were in a different city, in a hotel room, he learned more. Kris said he should be able to stay in a room alone, and Chanyeol rejected it. Kris said they could get a suite, something that adjoined, anything.
He wasn’t letting Kris out of his sight. He wanted to wake up in the middle of the night and be able to see the entirety of the room, and where Kris was sleeping. When they were lucky enough to get two beds, Chanyeol took the one closest to the door, and that was that. When there was no bed, sometimes he was lucky enough to have a small sofa to sleep on, or to get a rollaway bed.
One hotel had neither of those, and he was contemplating ways to make himself into a burrito on the floor when Kris laughed at him.
“This is a king-sized bed. Unless you kick, I’m never going to know you’re there.”
He wanted to protest. Propriety. Boundaries.
“For once let me tell you what to do,” Kris said, exasperated as he flopped back under the covers.
“If you say so, master,” Chanyeol demurred, and Kris snorted at him.
The choice between hard floor and nice supportive mattress wasn’t a hard one. He hadn’t asked or even hinted, which was one of the only reasons Chanyeol really accepted. Plus, Kris’s logic was sound. The bed was wide, and Chanyeol didn’t plan to take up much of it.
“Just kick me out if I start disturbing your sleep,” Chanyeol said after he got back from brushing his teeth. The sheets were nice, very soft, definitely a higher quality than what he was used to.
“You think I wouldn’t?” Kris asked, turning to face him.
Even with the full width of a pillow between them, that had a moment of scary intimacy that he forced right down.
“Your fans think you’re noble,” Chanyeol said.
“But you know better.”
“Nah. I know you’d probably deal with it and then be cranky tomorrow. I think you’re still a human being, don’t worry.”
Kris laughed and flailed for the light, and for a moment all he could see was Kris’s smile and the way his sleeping shirt clung.
“Would you be the one who was guarded instead of the one guarding?” Kris asked.
“I don’t know.” It was hard to imagine, needing that kind of protection, that little control over his own life. “Maybe if I had someone like me guarding me! Hey! That hurts!”
Still it was nice smiling as they fell into sleepy silence.
The sleeping really isn’t so much the problem as the morning after, which sounded a little wrong. Kris had a lot more needs in the bathroom, so Chanyeol had gotten used to using any other available mirror in the room as Kris got ready. The problem with that word particularly was the fact that the mirror Chanyeol could use and the area Kris used to get ready were close. Close enough that when Chanyeol looked up into the mirror, he saw far more than he’d intended.
He watched Kris belt into his pants and relived every moment of the cloth being pulled up Kris’s thighs.
He dug his fingers into his own thighs in punishment. He was not there to look.
***
Chanyeol had to be prepared, all the time. Even if there were barricades and extra protection, he had to be ready. There were crushes sometimes, fans converging on them as he kept himself tight against Kris’s side and guided him directly to where they were going. Once, a barricade tipped, and a hundred fans rushed them.
“Keep going,” he’d all but bellowed at Kris. And “Back off!” at everyone else.
Of all the times and close calls, that had been the one that had shaken Kris, both their hair mussed by reaching hands. Kris didn’t let go of Chanyeol’s arm for the next hour. Chanyeol didn’t sit there and tell Kris that he’d told him so. He imagined Kris could well imagine what’d happen if he was discovered on the street somewhere. The charm Kris could out could get him out of some situations. Imagining Kris in that situation in some kind of swarm, trying to thank people and wide-eyed as he looked to escape, made his stomach turn.
He did not keep Kris from his fans, and couldn’t have if he had tried. Still, he kept a close eye on his reactions, being vigilant. He couldn’t trust anyone. Not the nice elderly ladies or small children. It was easy to start seeing everyone as a threat. But if it kept his charge safe, he had nothing else to worry about.
Chanyeol felt better after they’d flown home, navigated a somewhat-more orderly crowd, and made it to Kris’s apartment. When the door was locked, and the apartment checked, a weight fell off of his shoulders. Even there, he had the room closest to the door. He slept with it open, but Kris had the full benefit of privacy in his own home.
And when Chanyeol was awake at night, staring at a ceiling he could barely see, he had time to process so much more. There was a meeting that week, an actress Kris would be working with and her manager. His first fleeing though was wondering if Kris would sleep with her. He rejected that out of hand, because most of Kris’s choices were outside of the project he was taking. It was a wise choice, but the way he’d hiss slightly at the thought bothered him.
Even knowing there would be no intimate relationship, he knew none of those had been times of danger. Jealousy wasn’t being compromised - he could do his job regardless of attraction. But attraction was for private, not public. He was still responsible for Kris’s security, but during those times of safety he owed nothing more.
The first time he came imagining Kris’s face, or Kris’s hands on him, he felt guilty, but after that, no longer. It was normal, those stray fantasies about celebrities, but he couldn’t be Kris’s fan and protect him. He had to be alert to dangers, not admiring.
He woke to the sound of Kris walking around the apartment, able to recognize his stride anywhere. But it was ultimately the smell of food that roused him fully, and got him out of bed. He emerged to see Kris setting out pancakes on the table, sending a smile that Chanyeol couldn’t quite interpret.
“Sit, eat.”
“What’s this for?” Chanyeol asked, belatedly trying to smooth down his bed head.
“Yesterday. I think we were both shaken up. So yeah, just. Thanks.”
“That’s my job,” Chanyeol said. But he grinned when Kris frowned at him. “You’re welcome, though.”
And lucky for him, the pancakes were only kind of scorched on one side.
***
It never should have-
He’d been stupid. When he looked at Kris, and found Kris looking back, that had happened dozens of times.
“You’ll have her name linked with yours in all the newspapers!” had been all that Chanyeol had said. He’d been joking. He’d been teasing.
“It won’t be true,” Kris retorted.
“We know that. But they’ll have fun trying to imagine your secret relationship.”
Leave it alone, his brain had warned. Stand up, and walk away.
Unfortunately, he’d only ever gotten to the standing part, and when he did that, Kris stood with him.
“Wouldn’t they be interested to know that the secret relationship I’m having is with someone they think I’m employing?” Kris asked.
He’d been walking as he talked, and Chanyeol only listening, and he was close enough that Chanyeol could see the tired in Kris’s eyes.
Employees took him any sort of directions. Drivers, housekeepers, stylists.
“Your makeup artist is cute?” Chanyeol mused.
He wondered why Kris grinned.
“You really think so?”
Well, no. But he could see why Kris would00
He didn’t get why Kris had just stepped closer. Chanyeol’s head jerked back an inch and Kris followed.
“Not your makeup artist,” Chanyeol concluded out loud, as fireworks started going off behind his eyes. Great big signal ones meant as a message. A warning. “Kris.”
He felt that breath reflected back at him, his res incapable of staying open. Had he stumbled, Kris would have caught him, an arm wrapping around Chanyeol’s back even as Kris kissed him.
Damp lips, soft fabric, faint cologne. HIs mind raced as he catalogued every moment of it. From the way that Kris urged Chanyeol to kiss him back, to the tightening of his arm.
And when the warnings died down, Kris’s gasp when Chanyeol grasped his waist.
“I keep you safe,” Chanyeol aid, when words could even be half formed.
“You keep me-“ Kris’s sound of frustration was only preceded by another kiss, and Chanyeol shivered.
Please.
It wasn’t the actor, the famous man who gripped his hand and wove their fingers together.
It was the man. The man who tripped over a stray book and laughed against Chanyeol’s mouth, and led him to a bedroom Chanyeol had only ever seen to wake Kris up and to check for intruders.
Kris kissed him like he’d been in need of that kiss for such a long time, hand sliding up under Chanyeol’s shirt to press against bare skin.
Kris was safe. Chanyeol was there. He was safe.
“Chanyeol.”
Even then, he could’ve said no, turned Kris away. It was his name that kept him there, the softest kisses, the way Kris touched him. If he’d wanted more, he couldn’t have asked for it. Wet kisses against his neck, clutching at Kris’s back, locked around him in a way he’d never dreamed.
Kris moaned his name and kissed his mouth. And inside, Chanyeol knew.
***
They slept close, closer than they had in the hotel bed, closer than Chanyeol maybe had ever slept to another human being. When he woke and wos pulled back to sleep again, his mind had been racing through ahead of him, dreaming of such strange things that he couldn’t fathom.
When he thought of Kris taking home some other celebrity, to watch Kris go laughing into his bedroom with some other woman, or even a man, it hurt.
It wasn’t anger but actual pain.
And that was when he cursed at the ceiling, and stumbled onto his feet. He dressed, hearing Kris in the shower, and knowing Kris’s routine, that Kris would inevitably fall back asleep for an hour.
It gave him time to go for his phone.
“I’m compromised.”
That was all he had to say to set things in motion. There were no judgements, no questions, just a quick movement to marshall forces. It was within the hour that he was relieved, a man nearly as tall as he with a strong jaw, a few years older. Capable. Competent. They shook hands, and Chanyeol slipped out without a word.
All he left was a note in his own handwriting stating that his replacement would do just as good a job as he had. He had a notebook full of information for the man to study. Ideally, Chanyeol would have let his successor shadow him for a day at least, but it hadn’t been a possibility.
Kris’s questions, his arguments, his potential disappointment, none of those things were things Chanyeol wanted to deal with. Goodbyes weren’t his strong suit.
***
“Chanyeol.”
Not the cajoling voice. He tried to bury his face in his pillow, groaning at the touch on his neck.
“Too early.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Why-“
Chanyeol froze, the thumb stroking his neck not stopping even though it had to be clear that Chanyeol realized something was up. Something, when he rose one eye out of the pillow, that was Kris resting beside him on his hotel bed.
“Wuh.”
“I’d think that you of all people would know to lock your deadbolt at least,” Kris said. “$100 and an autograph talked me into your keycard.”
Chanyeol’s head rose up all the way then, not in outrage over the total invasion of his privacy.
“Where is your bodyguard?” Chanyeol demanded.
Kris laughed. “Outside in the hallway. Don’t worry. I didn’t run away just to find you.”
“But you broke in to my hotel room. Yes, you broke in with a card you- You realize now why I never let you stay in a room by yourself?”
“Now I do,” Kris agreed.
“I leave and you do things that could get you arrested,” Chanyeol said, jabbing out his hand into Kris’s shoulder. But there was still a hand on his neck, warmly curling there, not threatening at all. And then he got to the question he should’ve asked to start with. “Why?”
“Did you leave because we slept together?” Kris asked, and he shook his head when Chanyeol’s mouth popped open in outrage. “I know, that’s not an answer. But it’s part of why I’m here.”
Chanyeol considered his words. “If all we’d done was sleep together, maybe. It was wildly inappropriate and a violation of the trust you had in my looking out for you. There’s a point of compromise when objectivity is lost.“
And Chanyeol exhaled, because that was the one thing he hadn’t been prepared to admit.
“How long were you with me?” Kris asked, and his thumb started up again on Chanyeol’s neck.
“Four months?”
“Five,” Kris corrected. “You should come back and stay with me. This new guy doesn’t smile as much. He’s kind of a stick in the mud, really.”
“I can’t guard you any more,” Chanyeol said, and he felt tired for the first time since his adrenaline had started pumping.
All of his morning breath stopped up when Kris leaned in and kissed him, warm and cool all at once. The fingers sliding over his skin almost made him shiver, and it made him want to reach, and he knew how much he couldn’t.
“Not to be my bodyguard,” Kris said, and it almost sounded like he was laughing at Chanyeol. “To be with me.”
His mind conjured up any number of images, some of them so wanted, and some of them so frightening.
“How. What if anyone found out. What if-“
He breathed into Kris’s neck and babbled out all the reasons it was a bad idea, and why it shouldn’t work, and how compromising it would be for Kris.
And when he was through, winded, blinded by the sun rising outside the hotel room window, Kris hadn’t let him go, slowing worming closer under the sheets.
“We can sleep on it,” Kris suggested, and it was such a terrible joke that Chanyeol groaned as Kris chuckled against his hair.
“Missed you,” Kris murmured, along with things Chanyeol wasn’t ready to hear. And he was the one who fell asleep first, waking to Kris’s slack face in the day-bright room.
“No one who’d see you like this would thing you were such a big time star,” Chanyeol grumbled. But he put his head back on the pillow and kept his arm around Kris. They’d see if it was a dream they could hold, or if it was something they would both need to wake from.
***
Prompt: “You realise you can’t actually trick someone into a relationship with you?” again up to you.
***
Most of the time, dating seemed to follow a couple of steps no matter what. First, there always had to be a first meeting. Second, someone agreed to go on a date. Generally those things were universal. Lu Han wasn’t leaving out online dating, no, because he thought that qualified as meeting and dating as well.
Given, the first meeting had already happened. It had gone well, given that there had been half a dozen other people there. It hadn’t been for them to meet, though. Still, when Lu Han had looked up to see Minseok grinning at one of Jongdae’s jokes, he’d been pretty sure that was what the universe had intended. Granted, a lot of people he knew wanted to get introduced to people by their friends or family. So, he had a bit of a leg up. He didn’t want to totally chase Minseok away, though.
“Maybe if I say I want someone to go sightseeing with, he’ll get used to me,” Lu Han said, staring at the ceiling.
For a moment Yixing was silent, before - ow - kicking him in the ankle. “You realize you can’t actually trick someone into a relationship with you?”
It wasn’t as though Minseok had said he wasn’t interested in dating. Lu Han wasn’t a total dick. He was just wanting Minseok to get to see some of his charms, possibly to the point where he’d want to follow Lu Han home.
***
It took a week and a little finagling to get Minseok’s number. It was Minseok himself who texted it to Lu Han, after he’d maybe smiled a bit too eagerly at Joonmyun and Jongdae. He tried not to be too eager about texting. No more than five per day unless Minseok asked a question, none while drinking, and definitely none outside of normal waking hours. Getting Minseok alone at dinners was harder, since their friends were all busybodies in and out of everyone’s laps, but Lu Han figured asking in person was best. He’d given Minseok the benefit of asking in person, and if he got rejected, he got rejected.
“Do you like museums?” Lu Han asked, keeping an eye out to make sure Jongdae was still out of their little corner.
Minseok nearly frowned at him, before nodding. “Oh, yeah!”
Perfect. One step closer. “Are there any you’d recommend or want to go to?”
Minseok was in the middle of his response when Jongdae sat down and smoothly entered the conversation. For a very, very long moment Lu Han was afraid that his plans would be ruined, that Jongdae would invite himself along - though Lu Han was still working his way up to the inviting - and three was way too big a number for Lu Han’s plans.
What he didn’t know, until Jongdae gave him a sly wink, was that Yixing had clued Jongdae in. Lu Han’s head went up, glaring in Yixing’s direction, and received a smile back that only an angel should have carried off. It looked wrong on the face of someone who was…well. Okay, trying to help him.
Jongdae all but tittered, “You should go with him, Minseok. He has a terrible sense of direction. He almost got lost in a bathroom once when-“
“I did not!” Lu Han contested, hand stinging when he hit the table. “Don’t tell lies!”
But Minseok was laughing. And apparently, he had Sunday free.
***
“We’re getting to know each other,” Lu Han said into the phone, lips pressing together since he knew Yixing was laughing silently.
“If he hasn’t caught on, he’s very slow,” Yixing said. As though he could talk. “How many times have you gotten him to go out with you?”
Four. Maybe five. He wasn’t sure if the ice cream outing with Jongin in their back pockets counted. There had been the museum. A movie. An impromptu shopping trip for a desk chair for Minseok (which had meant that Lu Han had gained entrance to his apartment). Said ice cream outing. A dinner after a long day.
He liked Minseok’s face in the shadows, and when his face could barely be seen because of a scarf, and when his cheeks and nose were red from cold, and when he was laughing.
And Yixing was sighing at him.
“If he’s willing to do all that with you, he’d probably agree to go out with you on an official date, not just a pretend one. He might even let you kiss his pretty lips after.”
“You think his lips are pretty?” Lu Han asked darkly.
“Only because you’ve told me they are about twenty times,” Yixing chirped right back. And then he gave good advice, as Yixing could. “He’ll probably be glad when you suck it up and ask him out. Maybe he thinks you’ve decided to just be friends.”
“No! Wait. But if he wants me to ask him, why isn’t he asking me? Are you holding out on me?”
“Maybe he doesn’t- I’ll call him and tell him you date men. One second.”
“Don’t- Zhang Yixing!”
Yixing didn’t stop randomly giggling over the phone for the next ten minutes, and Lu Han didn’t have the heart or the strength to hang up on him.
***
Lu Han was very careful, like a stealthy shark, to sit away from Minseok when Kris ganged up on everyone and dragged them out to dinner. He was sandwiched between Jongdae and Joonmyun which meant he had two men either leaning forward to talk around him, or leaning behind him to smack at each other. Minseok thankfully was between Kris and Sehun, with Yixing occupied by Chanyeol. It made some of the imaginary heartburn subside. Yixing could be subtle. Mostly. Minseok would probably think that Yixing was trying to flirt with him, though, instead of trying to fish for information for Lu Han.
It wasn’t like at one point he was going to leap out and say, “Surprise, we’re dating!”
He watched for a moment as Minseok’s tongue ran across his upper lip, his laughter rolling across the table, and felt his face turning red.
“Probably the bravest thing you could do is tell him,” Yixing had told him before they’d arrived. “At least you’re honest, then, too.”
They might possibly have stuck their tongues out at each other after that. And as people filtered out, Lu Han got closer and closer to Minseok’s side. Perhaps tonight, he thought, picking up his shot glass and taking the drink down. He had Minseok against him. He could do it.
***
They perhaps drank a little too much. Not excessively too much, but to the point where he may have had to catch at Minseok to steady himself a few times, and Minseok had nearly tipped them both over trying to correct him. At least it was cool, which contributed to him feeling more alert by the time they’d wound back to Minseok’s apartment, talking, their arms linked for stability. Or maybe Minseok didn’t trust him.
“Come up for a while,” Minseok urged.
There could be more to drink up there, Lu Han reasoned. Minseok’s apartment. It was comfortable and nice. Warm, too. The perfect place to relax a while. Maybe Minseok had food, and his apartment always smelled really nice, and was really tidy. Actually. That was kind of like Minseok himself. It made Lu Han want to ruffle him up a little, see what he looked like with his clothes askew and mouth swollen. He probably looked amazing in rumpled sheets, wearing nothing but a smile.
Lu Han sighed his frustration out with that image, as Minseok let him into his apartment. For a moment, he stared down at his shoes, wondering how he would get them off. And then, he realized that the toes of Minseok’s shoes had gotten a lot closer.
It was so easy to inhale before Minseok pressed wet lips against his. Minseok’s fingers were cool pressing in his jaw, and Lu Han’s mouth parted, moaning as Minseok kissed him. Just a little more, he wanted just a little more as he gripped Minseok’s hips. More of Minseok’s arms around his neck, the touch of his tongue, and the rumbling little noises he made.
Gorgeous, Lu Han thought, as he watched Minseok’s eyelashes wing up. And then Minseok smiled and Lu Han wondered if he’d said that out loud.
All Lu Han could do was stand still as Minseok moved and pressed up against his back. Minseok was hard, and fuck, so was he. It was all he could do not to grind back against Minseok or find the nearest sturdy piece of furniture to brace himself against so Minseok could do his best. He’d gotten right up to imagining Minseok moaning against the back of his neck, before swapping to thinking maybe Minseok could back him right up against a wall. And then Yixing’s words came back to him.
They weren’t dating. Minseok was tipsy. They were both tipsy. He didn’t want it to be like that.
It was harder than he would have imagined to extricate himself from Minseok’s winding arms, turning and bracing himself on Minseok’s shoulders. That was kind of a mistake because one look at those pouting lips had him leaning in, startled when Minseok’s tongue was every bit as aggressive as his. If Minseok got his arms around Lu Han again, to pull away he would have to-
His breathing was ragged as he braced his arms, really braced them so that they were a couple of feet apart. So Lu Han could think. Or try.
“I can’t- Tonight, I have to- I’m going to go home, but… Tomorrow? I’ll text you. Okay?”
“Sure, okay,” Minseok said, a sneaky hand rubbing at Lu Han’s wrist.
When Lu Han leaned in for a kiss goodbye, a wholly unrecommended action, it probably looked like he was trying to kiss a grizzly bear. He got just close enough for their lips to really meet, before springing back and wedging himself out the door.
If only he’d made sure Minseok was interested to begin with-
He hated when Yixing was right.
***
Lu Han had a plan. Most of one. His plan, as it were, was to text Minseok and make sure he was at home, and then pick up something on the way there that would symbolize his interest. He didn’t want wine, flowers, or food. In reality, his plan was only running by the skin of his teeth and getting there with nothing but lint in his pocket and an explanation for why he’d scurried out the night before. Though he consoled himself that maybe bringing something was tacky anyway, and it would allow Minseok to focus on him. Possibly also he was the gift, that could be interpreted.
No, that was too cheesy and gross.
Minseok at least didn’t look upset when he opened the door to let Lu Han in. Right there where he was standing, Minseok had been up against him. And he put that all out of his head.
“You okay from last night?” he asked. “The drinking.”
Not the kissing.
Minseok half lifted a hand to his head. “Oh, yeah. Woke up a little hungover, but it’s better now.”
“Good. So, um…Last night. I left. But… Can I take you to dinner?” Lu Han said, the last words all but blurted. “I don’t mean. Not just dinner. I want to date you. I don’t want it to just be…”
His hand flopped out in explanation, hoping Minseok would read between the lines he’d crudely drawn.
Minseok laughed, and Lu Han stared. He had no idea what was going on.
“I thought we were!”
Lu Han blinked. Minseok tilted his head. And then a smile started creeping across Lu Han’s face, because…he’d done it. He’d really done it. But then he was confused when Minseok stepped back before Lu Han could grab him.
“I think you owe me dinner first,” Minseok said.
“Okay,” Lu Han said. It seemed Minseok had been ahead of him all along.
***
Prompt: suho/kai - http://youtu.be/WrxslbYthQ4 - translations of lyrics: http://musicbox-trans.livejournal.com/57763.html#cutid1
***
The words Joonmyun wrote were lost to the tide, filled in with bubbles and being smoothed. Actually, he nearly lost his shoes to that same tide, scrambling to grab them and get back before the water slid too far up his legs. He could relate to that feeling, things that were once crisp and new being worn away. And yet, in a fanciful sort of way, he was glad his words were gone.
I miss you.
I’m waiting for you.
I hope you’re smiling.
He was pretty sure Jongin had to be. The ocean took his words, and maybe carried them away. They wouldn’t be found like he’d trapped them in a bottle, but they weren’t bottled up inside of him.
Jongin had said something like that once, that it wasn’t good to keep things in, especially if there was something that could be done about them. And maybe he didn’t know it at that moment, but his words had been heard.
***
When Jongin had left Joonmyun’s apartment that had been the only goodbye they were getting because Jongin’s parents were taking him to the airport. Joonmyun hadn’t been in tears, but several had dripped down Jongin’s cheeks, caught by Joonmyun’s palms.
“I know you don’t like the food, but you have to eat,” Joonmyun said, getting a damp chuckle.
“How many scolding messages are you going to send me?”
“As many as you need,” Joonmyun promised.
“It’s just six months,” Jongin said.
But it was more than that. It was preparation time, and adjusting after he returned.
All Joonmyun had when Jongin had gone was a fading impression of Jongin’s arms around him, wet palms, and a framed picture of Jongin in his suit looking very serious and regal, helmet under one arm.
***
All of Joonmyun’s communication with Jongin included references of food, and most of Jongin’s communication back was rude in response. Their communication was not strictly private, and that was the way Jongin knew that he was being loved. The foods that got the rudest response went onto a list for when Jongin was back. He would’ve traded almost anything to get one video chat - and knew he had to be satisfied with what he got. It didn’t really make him feel better to know at one point he would’ve had nothing to do but wait. He didn’t know if that would’ve made it harder or not.
He spent time a couple of nights a week on the roof of his building in a chair he’d dragged up. It was warm enough that he could rest there and look up seeing what stars made it through the light pollution. Every so often he could see the blinking light of an airplane going overhead, and he waved at the passengers on them. That would be him. In five months. Four. Two. Three weeks.
Jongin sounded both sad and excited to see him. Sad, because coming home meant abandoning what he loved if only temporarily. It was also leaving behind stress and a not-inconsiderable amount of danger. It would mean returning to Joonmyun and his three piece suits, and all the food he could possibly want and their specially selected mattress. Because it was comfortable, not because it was suited to old bones, no matter what Jongin said.
***
Some mornings he woke up from a dream that Jongin was breathing against the back of his head and he half reached back to feel Jongin’s face. Those were the days he went out to the water, or aggressively cleaned the shower, or dragged out some of Jongin’s old photo albums. The pictures of Jongin’s high school graduation with the stupid picture of Joonmyun looking a little startled while Jongin grinned. And then from Joonmyun’s college graduation, the picture where he was a little disgruntled because Jongin was wearing his graduation cap. And Jongin’s college graduation picture, when Joonmyun had done the only right thing and stole Jongin’s cap instead. There were pictures of celebrations of new jobs, promotions, and one of Jongin where he was so flushed and pleased with himself from drinking that Joonmyun had been forced to take a picture.
There were vacations, grumpy pictures on trains and buses, one of Joonmyun’s sleeping and slack face in front of an airplane window. Joonmyun’s favorite was when he had flown out to join Jongin, standing with his back against Jongin’s chest, on a Florida beach and grinning with the ocean behind them.
The jet trails against the blue sky were a good sign, he thought, as he went back to the apartment with his shopping bag full of Jongin’s favorite snacks. It had taken him almost a year into Jongin’s first year of college to ask him out, and when he had it had been over ramen and chips.
Jongin had sputtered spicy broth all over himself.
Joonmyun wasn’t sure how much better he could do to welcome Jongin back than something they had been sharing together for over a decade.
I’m going to eat everything before you get here.
Joonmyun felt lighter than he had in a week when all Jongin had replied with had been a string of sad faces.
***
Joonmyun’s eyes were fixed on the monitor waiting for Jongin to land. He’d been restless the whole morning, obsessing over the weather and half smothering himself in the hotel pillows. He was jet lagged, antsy with anticipation. He kept himself from walking to the windows to see if he could see anything. He could wait, knowing Jongin was safe, but until those wheels were on the ground he wasn’t content.
Every station on the TV didn’t catch his interest, the language unfamiliar to his ears and the writing different than anything he had studied. He was in a country he had never been to, as close as he dared to Jongin’s return. Jongin would return to Korea, to greet his parents formally, though Joonmyun didn’t quite know on what day he’d go back. Joonmyun was there three days, just three days. He’d stared into the Kazakhstan desert during his small tour, feeling his heart clutch every time he looked up. That was when the waiting had been bearable. Each progressive hour made it less so, until he hadn’t even been able to sleep.
His cheer at the spacecraft’s safe landing might have rocked the building.
***
When Jongin came to him, it was in uniform, as straight and tall as a young tree. He looked tired and so eager, stepping into the hotel room almost before Joonmyun had a chance to open the door fully. Joonmyun reached out, brushing his fingertips over the insignia on Jongin’s chest.
“Captain Kim,” Joonmyun said, smiling. “Welcome home.”
“It’ll take a bit of adjusting, but… it’s nice to be on land again,” Jongin said, squeezing Joonmyun’s shoulders as he did.
“Did you bring me back a moon rock or anything?” Joonmyun asked, eyes wide. And frowned when Jongin shook his head. “What’s the point of having an astronaut for a-“
“Maybe when I actually go to the moon,” Jongin growled, and caught Joonmyun up into the tightest hug. He smelled like Jongin, even with different products, he smelled like Jongin. Jongin wasn’t the first into space, and wouldn’t be the last, but those six months, he knew Jongin would have so much to tell. But Jongin when he spoke next was just what Joonmyun had been expecting. “You didn’t really eat all of my favorite food, did you?”
“You have to see. Jongin!” He was hitched right off of his feet as Jongin carried him laughing the rest of the way into the room.
***
Prompt: Tablo/Kangta - basically they're grumpy older guys, defrosting around each other due to Kangta being a smooth bastard and Tablo being clever and funny, maybe in some bar somewhere? and they get tipsy and Tablo thinks Kangta is REALLY attractive so. making out.
***
The first drink went down smooth. Or, Daniel thought it did for a moment at least, until he was clearing his throat at the fire in it. A man was across from him, an acquaintance more than anything. His name was Chilhyun, and every mutual friend and stranger it seemed had said they needed to get to know each other. Which was how they ended up in a bar, sitting across from each other, drinking in silence. They hadn’t even had the intelligence to pick out a bar with blaring music so they could’ve at least pretended something was impeding them. Instead, there was some kind of jazzy music being piped in that barely covered the murmur of other conversations and people swaying together on the postage-stamp sized designated dance floor.
Actually, it was almost a bit too faux-romantic when he thought about it. He was going to have to have a talk with whoever had decided they meet there.
“Have you been here before?” Daniel asked, feeling that was at least a good place to begin.
“No, I haven’t.”
And that was that. No anecdote, no follow-up question. Though they took another swallow almost in unison. He wasn’t going to go home and have to tell his friends that they’d sat together in mutual silence, so he was going to have to make an effort.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he said. And figured he’d start off. “I like summer weather but I don’t really like heat.”
“I’m single,” Chilhyun said a bit wryly. “I like beef. I like driving with music on. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date.”
There was a sarcastic quip in his head that Daniel let fly by. They were there to get to know each other, not for him to be a comedian. The fact that Chilhyun was handsome, almost ridiculously so with dark-framed glasses and a white shirt with the top button undone. Daniel blocked that out most of the time, but it wasn’t like he could unsee it. But Chilhyun’s mannerisms reminded him of a professor, or an office manager. Just a touch unapproachable, which made him a bit of a challenge and a bit offputting at the same time. He also was about to insult the choice of place, before realizing he should probably suss out likes and dislikes first.
“This the kind of place you like going out to?”
Chilhyun grimaced a bit. “To relax, it’d be nice. A restaurant or something more alive is nicer, though.”
“Concerts?”
“For certain. Any you’ve been to recently?”
Daniel had to stop himself from putting a hand over his heart when Kanta took the initiative and asked him a question.
“Yeah, I’ve been to a few, actually.”
Music was comfortable for him to discuss. They’d actually been at the same concert six months previous, and had similar stories to tell - poor organized, terrible seating, great music. Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in, but it got easier. He could almost see Kanga beginning to relax, and they went from having three things to talk about including where they were, what they were drinking, and the weather, to over a dozen.
That buttoned-up look was starting to look better all the time.
***
They weren’t going to get caught in some bar or a car like teenagers. The third time he’d seen Kanta very deliberately checking out his mouth, he’d figured they’d had enough to drink. Finding a secure place was more important. Maybe getting to know each other better by making out was kind of a crude form of personal interaction, and he sure as hell wasn’t a teenager any more, but as long as everyone was willing, he wasn’t backing off. Maybe it was cute to wait around and date for months first, but he didn’t think either of them were that kind of guy. If they didn’t come out on the top of the compatibility heap, they moved on. The only reason he was interested in it to begin with was because he thought there was a chance. If he’d been bored to death, it was a deal breaker. If his mind wasn’t being engaged, there was almost no chance his body was going to be, no matter how how Chilhyun was.
Chilhyun’s place was closer, and he had no objections. They didn’t leap on each other like hungry dogs the second the door closed behind them, either, and it wasn’t like Daniel got a tour. He didn’t need soft, and he definitely didn’t need romance. But they shared grins when Kanga flopped onto the couch and stretched out his arm along the back. A place for Daniel, right there.
No hesitation, right form the first kiss. A hand in Daniel’s hair as he pressed Chilhyun’s head back, lips pressing, rubbing, demanding. No fireworks, but a hell of a lot of interest, kneading Chilhyun’s thigh and sucking on his tongue. No soft and tender learning kisses, but a lot of want. If neither of them had dated in a while that made sense. Get a little. FInd out if it was worth it. Maybe get off.
He learned a lot about Chilhyun just from those kisses, the way he touched, and a lot of that he absolutely liked.
“Want music?” Chilhyun jested, grinning, and Daniel laughed and kissed him to shut him up.
***
Prompt: drabble or short fic. of some sort with Zhou Mi and Changmin?
***
The thing about cold was that it promoted closeness. Only his face was peeking out of the sleeping bag he was in, and the only reason he was as warm as he was was because Changmin was squeezed in with him, and draped all over him. Camping would be fun, Changmin had assured him.
Mostly not.
Somewhere around the point where both of them had ideas about which pole went where in the tent (and each of them had been half right), the sky had seen fit to start opening up. What had been meant to be a charming dinner roasting sausages and drinking by the fire had ended up a miserable, damp huddle in the tent eating snacks and listening to the rain as their trusty light flickered in and out. Well, it could’ve been more miserable, really. At least they had food and plenty of water. And empty bottles at least meant they didn’t have to venture out into the downpour.
“Is this where we tell ghost stories about water monsters?” Zhou Mi teased, and Changmin’s laugh came with a smack to the arm. At least he was well padded, since he had his coat fully zipped up even in the tent. More than ever he wished for a fire.
Their sleeping bags had been pre-zipped together, which made it easy to strip out of their shoes, don another layer of socks, and crawl right in. Even if the light wasn’t great, Changmin pulled up a book on his phone, and then it felt almost like it should’ve, trying to squirm closer together as Changmin read aloud from a book they’d chosen and had been steadily working through. The light illuminated Changmin’s face, and it was a nice face, so Zhou Mi had two whole things to appreciate. Three, if he counted how their legs were tangled.
The earlier they slept, the earlier they could leave. There was that. He kindly didn’t mention the times in the middle of the night when a stray branch was blown against their tent and Changmin nearly covered him up thinking a bear was trying to get in, or an axe murderer.
“I want a hot breakfast,” Zhou Mi said, his breath showing in the cold as they shoved things in bags, and things in other bags that they didn’t belong in so they could sort it out later. “A gallon of tea. A bathtub of it.”
“It would’ve been better with the fire and sausages,” Changmin hazarded. Like a hunk of meat would’ve solved everything.
“How did I let you talk me into this,” he asked, when his teeth were chattering and he was zipping into his second coat. They were going home. Warmth.
Changmin surprised him with a kiss square on the nose. “Adventure.”
Prompt: Zhou Mi and Zitao shopping trip AU? [Maybe they debate favourite brands and other things of the sort; or just run around shopping together?]
***
“Ge!”
There was such happiness in the word, excitement, like a miner finding gold after having dug a thousand holes, and Zhou Mi knew exactly what he was going to see when he looked up - Zitao holding up the shirt they’d been looking for, in the size they hadn’t been able to find.
There were not enough words to explain a shopping find. Most of the people Zhou Mi attempted to explain it to took on a very indulgent expression, or straight-up disbelief, that too. Zitao was his little brother by shopping, his protege, his partner in fabulous sunglasses.
Some of shopping was a strategy, because sales came and went but stores more or less stayed in the same places. Clearance wasn’t something that was advertised, though, so unless they visited they couldn’t see what had been marked down to less shocking prices, and from there, finding what they could that was in their size. Though, there were a couple of occasions he’d come across a shirt he’d loved too much that was too big. The tailoring had been well worth that.
Zitao was a good person to shop with too, because they were both tall, both built about the same. He could stand back and if he didn’t think it looked good on Zitao, then he could be fairly certain it wouldn’t look good on him either. They didn’t like all the same things, and Zitao went starry eyed over patterns that made Zhou Mi’s eyes hurt, but no matter how disparate their tastes went at times, it was a hundred times better than someone checking the time on their phone and gently suggesting they go get something to eat.
Though Zitao loved to eat, too, and Zhou Mi was good enough to buy food for him, grinning at Zitao across the table as he cherished getting treated.
Though they eyed each other when there was only one of something they wanted. He-who-held-it usually won, but there were negotiations that went on, especially if there was more than one item they were bargaining with. This one shirt in the correct size for another shirt in the correct size that was liked better. It was hard to have hard feelings when Zitao sometimes all but leaped into his arms in excitement.
They talked of home, Zitao’s soft voice going wistful, sometimes choking him almost as they sat together beside the river. Just having someone near who spoke a language their hearts could connect to made home not seem that far away. Family they could contact, but the friends that they made nearby were their family, too. They had their bags, and their fun, and their music, and their to-go cups of tea.
And the promise of another sale next week.
***
Pairing: Kris/Chanyeol, Lu Han/Xiumin, Suho/Kai, Tablo/Kangta, Zhou Mi/Changmin, Zhou Mi/Tao
Rating: R
Genre: AU
Summary: Six prompts with different pairings.
***
Prompt: krisyeol bodyguard!au fic with chanyeol as the bodyguard.. a little bit (or lots) of angst are preferred, but fluff is okay too.
***
“Kris,” he groaned, and it came out as nothing less than begging.
When he thought of them sometimes, he thought of those times, the gasps of names, and stretch of skin. Kris’s eyes when he held up Chanyeol’s hips with an arm, the fingers of his free hand tangled in Chanyeol’s hair.
The only thing he had to be grateful for was that it hadn’t started in anger, or lowered inhibition. They’d been nose to nose before, Chanyeol’s lectures causing Kris’s pretty mouth to sneer. That night, it had been almost a dare of how close they could get before the other shying away.
It turned out there had been no turning away for either of them.
How long they’d pressed against that line without crossing it. How long they had pretended they’d needed something else.
Chanyeol never took personal calls during work as a rule, but he’d always seen fit to mention a missed call from his girlfriend. She’d been beautiful and smart and everything he’d thought he should want, and so had the woman after her, and the one after that. He watched as Kris went to award shows on the arms of beautiful actresses, laughing at jokes, and sitting near them through long and boring sequences.
A couple had even gone home with them, Chanyeol staring out the window as street lights flashed, and Kris’s laughter drifted from the back. The women left the next morning as perfectly put together as they’d arrived, and never came back twice.
None of them had ever tried to insinuate that Chanyeol should’ve joined them for a threesome, though he flattered himself with the thought a couple of times.
Though he acknowledged his interest had been far from the women, beautiful as they were.
But one day it had been him waking in Kris’s bed, a warm hand spread against his chest and legs tangled with his. And he’d sat up as Kris had slept, eyes wild and hair standing up.
He should’ve gone then, should’ve gone months before that, should’ve realized what was going on before Kris’s hand had tugged him back against Kris’s chest, a kiss against his cheek.
“Chanyeol. Too early,” Kris complained, and held them both still.
When he closed his eyes he could still see Kris’s smile when he woke, when he’d asked Chanyeol what he wanted to eat, and the careless way Kris had tweaked a lock of hair off of Chanyeol’s forehead.
When he thought of that, he wondered if running had been the right choice.
***
The number of people taller than him that he had guarded was pretty small. He actually preferred it that way, because it allowed him glances over heads, more of a view of potential danger. Kris was different in a lot of ways, not only in the height aspect. Chanyeol had guarded high profile clients, and some famous ones. Kris had his high maintenance moments, and he certainly guarded his sleeping time jealously. For being as famous as he was, though, and as rich, he didn’t treat Chanyeol as though he was a servant. Though there were always moments.
“You should loosen up a little,” was a thing that Kris told him at times, a thing that occasionally made him laugh. It was as though Kris was trying to tell him that it’d be okay to just kick back and relax, maybe put in his headphones because there would never be any issues.
Not like Chanyeol had ever had to call in reinforcements because of a fan trying to get into Kris’s car or home, or the media for that matter. Kris wasn’t paying him to languish in a lounge chair sipping cocktails and enjoy being one of the most famous men in Korea’s bodyguard.
When they went out, he had to make sure of where they were going, had to be at Kris’s side to get him where he needed to go without being trampled or groped. He was the one who organized the security teams, and growled at the airports, and put his foot down when Kris’s manager suggested doing something by the river. That, or any other place that Chanyeol had no shot of protecting Kris at. It wasn’t as though Chanyeol wanted Kris barricaded in his condo at all hours.
“The hottest actor in the world!” the headlines all proclaimed.
They had no idea that Kris, once tired, would sleep until he couldn’t any more, or that he walked around with hideous green goop on his face.
All they saw were the absent smiles, the gestured greetings, and fleeting grins. Kris’s hair had been blond, black, brown, copper. Kris’s head at that particular moment was a dark brown that tended to red in the sun. Fans online were in raptures about it, a fact that Chanyeol exploited at times, reading fan comments until Kris went from scoffing to shyly pleased.
How one of the most popular men in Asia could still get embarrassed, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t deny that he liked it. For all the stress of his job, all the tense hours, that was why he stayed.
“Relax,” Kris said, not even looking at him from where he was reading. Maybe he would have, had they been in the condo. But they were in a waiting room, waiting for an interview that Kris’s manager was already chewing ears about being late.
“Not until your next bodyguard comes on duty,” Chanyeol said, crossing his legs the other way.
Kris looked up from his magazine. “I don’t have another bodyguard.”
Exactly.
***
“Maybe if you were a foot shorter and blended in,” Chanyeol said, when Kris mused out loud If he would ever get to go on even a date alone. “Sending you out alone would be like I was sending out some guy in a drama. You’d end up with a horde.”
“I’m an adult,” Kris reasoned.
“Then your adult powers must be telling you that I’m right. I’ll go with you.”
“A date with my bodyguard. Great.”
Chanyeol scoffed but it was really all he could do from the discontent in Kris’s face and voice. It wasn’t as though he took pleasure in denying Kris what he wanted.
“Though you could be worse to spend time with,” Kris said as though he felt bad about what he’d said. Sometimes Chanyeol was better at schooling his features than others. But it was better that Kris thought his feelings were hurt about the time spent and not because it sounded like Kris would rather date anyone else. It wasn’t as though Kris knew, not like Chanyeol told him over hours of board games on nights Kris had nothing better to do and no will to do anything else. He hadn’t heard Kris complaining about him then, watching Kris sample wine and throwing chips at each other.
The anger of the loss of independence was something Chanyeol had seen a lot of. It was pretty bad among the teenagers he had looked after but the adults, the ones that had not had their wellbeing threatened -and some even that had - felt it was their right to do as they pleased. Even if it endangered them. It endangered Chanyeol as well, his livelihood. He’d never lost a client yet, not in any sense, and he intended to keep it that way.
Kris was his client but Kris’s company had done the hiring. Kris was like any other asset that needed protecting. But Kris wasn’t a car or a house. He was something irreplaceable.
***
Sometimes Kris stared at him. It wasn’t so much unnerving as it was perplexing. Chanyeol had certainly been stared at before, though in school it had usually been in hope he would be quiet, and on the street in shock when people came up beside him. But Kris had never looked at him like that.
His first check was to see if he had food still stuck to his face, and barring that he looked behind himself to see if- No. There was just a wall back there. Then he was pretty sure.
Kris was messing with him.
And he knew it too, when Kris kicked out at him, a smile twisting his lips as he went back to the book he was reading.
But it happened again as they were eating, and again when Kris ought to have been paying attention to the TV. Sometimes all they did was make faces at each other. If only the adoring masses knew the strange shapes Kris’s face could morph into.
But he wasn’t fooling himself that they’d find it anything other than endearing. Or maybe he was.
There were reasons they were rotated occasionally, and it wasn’t just to keep a fresh on on security situations. It kept them from losing perspective, getting complacent, causing undue danger for their clients. There was a point at which emotional investment became almost guarantee, sometimes for the client as much as for them. Each situation was different.
If Kris thought he was uptight when they were secure in Kris’s apartment, then when they were in a different city, in a hotel room, he learned more. Kris said he should be able to stay in a room alone, and Chanyeol rejected it. Kris said they could get a suite, something that adjoined, anything.
He wasn’t letting Kris out of his sight. He wanted to wake up in the middle of the night and be able to see the entirety of the room, and where Kris was sleeping. When they were lucky enough to get two beds, Chanyeol took the one closest to the door, and that was that. When there was no bed, sometimes he was lucky enough to have a small sofa to sleep on, or to get a rollaway bed.
One hotel had neither of those, and he was contemplating ways to make himself into a burrito on the floor when Kris laughed at him.
“This is a king-sized bed. Unless you kick, I’m never going to know you’re there.”
He wanted to protest. Propriety. Boundaries.
“For once let me tell you what to do,” Kris said, exasperated as he flopped back under the covers.
“If you say so, master,” Chanyeol demurred, and Kris snorted at him.
The choice between hard floor and nice supportive mattress wasn’t a hard one. He hadn’t asked or even hinted, which was one of the only reasons Chanyeol really accepted. Plus, Kris’s logic was sound. The bed was wide, and Chanyeol didn’t plan to take up much of it.
“Just kick me out if I start disturbing your sleep,” Chanyeol said after he got back from brushing his teeth. The sheets were nice, very soft, definitely a higher quality than what he was used to.
“You think I wouldn’t?” Kris asked, turning to face him.
Even with the full width of a pillow between them, that had a moment of scary intimacy that he forced right down.
“Your fans think you’re noble,” Chanyeol said.
“But you know better.”
“Nah. I know you’d probably deal with it and then be cranky tomorrow. I think you’re still a human being, don’t worry.”
Kris laughed and flailed for the light, and for a moment all he could see was Kris’s smile and the way his sleeping shirt clung.
“Would you be the one who was guarded instead of the one guarding?” Kris asked.
“I don’t know.” It was hard to imagine, needing that kind of protection, that little control over his own life. “Maybe if I had someone like me guarding me! Hey! That hurts!”
Still it was nice smiling as they fell into sleepy silence.
The sleeping really isn’t so much the problem as the morning after, which sounded a little wrong. Kris had a lot more needs in the bathroom, so Chanyeol had gotten used to using any other available mirror in the room as Kris got ready. The problem with that word particularly was the fact that the mirror Chanyeol could use and the area Kris used to get ready were close. Close enough that when Chanyeol looked up into the mirror, he saw far more than he’d intended.
He watched Kris belt into his pants and relived every moment of the cloth being pulled up Kris’s thighs.
He dug his fingers into his own thighs in punishment. He was not there to look.
***
Chanyeol had to be prepared, all the time. Even if there were barricades and extra protection, he had to be ready. There were crushes sometimes, fans converging on them as he kept himself tight against Kris’s side and guided him directly to where they were going. Once, a barricade tipped, and a hundred fans rushed them.
“Keep going,” he’d all but bellowed at Kris. And “Back off!” at everyone else.
Of all the times and close calls, that had been the one that had shaken Kris, both their hair mussed by reaching hands. Kris didn’t let go of Chanyeol’s arm for the next hour. Chanyeol didn’t sit there and tell Kris that he’d told him so. He imagined Kris could well imagine what’d happen if he was discovered on the street somewhere. The charm Kris could out could get him out of some situations. Imagining Kris in that situation in some kind of swarm, trying to thank people and wide-eyed as he looked to escape, made his stomach turn.
He did not keep Kris from his fans, and couldn’t have if he had tried. Still, he kept a close eye on his reactions, being vigilant. He couldn’t trust anyone. Not the nice elderly ladies or small children. It was easy to start seeing everyone as a threat. But if it kept his charge safe, he had nothing else to worry about.
Chanyeol felt better after they’d flown home, navigated a somewhat-more orderly crowd, and made it to Kris’s apartment. When the door was locked, and the apartment checked, a weight fell off of his shoulders. Even there, he had the room closest to the door. He slept with it open, but Kris had the full benefit of privacy in his own home.
And when Chanyeol was awake at night, staring at a ceiling he could barely see, he had time to process so much more. There was a meeting that week, an actress Kris would be working with and her manager. His first fleeing though was wondering if Kris would sleep with her. He rejected that out of hand, because most of Kris’s choices were outside of the project he was taking. It was a wise choice, but the way he’d hiss slightly at the thought bothered him.
Even knowing there would be no intimate relationship, he knew none of those had been times of danger. Jealousy wasn’t being compromised - he could do his job regardless of attraction. But attraction was for private, not public. He was still responsible for Kris’s security, but during those times of safety he owed nothing more.
The first time he came imagining Kris’s face, or Kris’s hands on him, he felt guilty, but after that, no longer. It was normal, those stray fantasies about celebrities, but he couldn’t be Kris’s fan and protect him. He had to be alert to dangers, not admiring.
He woke to the sound of Kris walking around the apartment, able to recognize his stride anywhere. But it was ultimately the smell of food that roused him fully, and got him out of bed. He emerged to see Kris setting out pancakes on the table, sending a smile that Chanyeol couldn’t quite interpret.
“Sit, eat.”
“What’s this for?” Chanyeol asked, belatedly trying to smooth down his bed head.
“Yesterday. I think we were both shaken up. So yeah, just. Thanks.”
“That’s my job,” Chanyeol said. But he grinned when Kris frowned at him. “You’re welcome, though.”
And lucky for him, the pancakes were only kind of scorched on one side.
***
It never should have-
He’d been stupid. When he looked at Kris, and found Kris looking back, that had happened dozens of times.
“You’ll have her name linked with yours in all the newspapers!” had been all that Chanyeol had said. He’d been joking. He’d been teasing.
“It won’t be true,” Kris retorted.
“We know that. But they’ll have fun trying to imagine your secret relationship.”
Leave it alone, his brain had warned. Stand up, and walk away.
Unfortunately, he’d only ever gotten to the standing part, and when he did that, Kris stood with him.
“Wouldn’t they be interested to know that the secret relationship I’m having is with someone they think I’m employing?” Kris asked.
He’d been walking as he talked, and Chanyeol only listening, and he was close enough that Chanyeol could see the tired in Kris’s eyes.
Employees took him any sort of directions. Drivers, housekeepers, stylists.
“Your makeup artist is cute?” Chanyeol mused.
He wondered why Kris grinned.
“You really think so?”
Well, no. But he could see why Kris would00
He didn’t get why Kris had just stepped closer. Chanyeol’s head jerked back an inch and Kris followed.
“Not your makeup artist,” Chanyeol concluded out loud, as fireworks started going off behind his eyes. Great big signal ones meant as a message. A warning. “Kris.”
He felt that breath reflected back at him, his res incapable of staying open. Had he stumbled, Kris would have caught him, an arm wrapping around Chanyeol’s back even as Kris kissed him.
Damp lips, soft fabric, faint cologne. HIs mind raced as he catalogued every moment of it. From the way that Kris urged Chanyeol to kiss him back, to the tightening of his arm.
And when the warnings died down, Kris’s gasp when Chanyeol grasped his waist.
“I keep you safe,” Chanyeol aid, when words could even be half formed.
“You keep me-“ Kris’s sound of frustration was only preceded by another kiss, and Chanyeol shivered.
Please.
It wasn’t the actor, the famous man who gripped his hand and wove their fingers together.
It was the man. The man who tripped over a stray book and laughed against Chanyeol’s mouth, and led him to a bedroom Chanyeol had only ever seen to wake Kris up and to check for intruders.
Kris kissed him like he’d been in need of that kiss for such a long time, hand sliding up under Chanyeol’s shirt to press against bare skin.
Kris was safe. Chanyeol was there. He was safe.
“Chanyeol.”
Even then, he could’ve said no, turned Kris away. It was his name that kept him there, the softest kisses, the way Kris touched him. If he’d wanted more, he couldn’t have asked for it. Wet kisses against his neck, clutching at Kris’s back, locked around him in a way he’d never dreamed.
Kris moaned his name and kissed his mouth. And inside, Chanyeol knew.
***
They slept close, closer than they had in the hotel bed, closer than Chanyeol maybe had ever slept to another human being. When he woke and wos pulled back to sleep again, his mind had been racing through ahead of him, dreaming of such strange things that he couldn’t fathom.
When he thought of Kris taking home some other celebrity, to watch Kris go laughing into his bedroom with some other woman, or even a man, it hurt.
It wasn’t anger but actual pain.
And that was when he cursed at the ceiling, and stumbled onto his feet. He dressed, hearing Kris in the shower, and knowing Kris’s routine, that Kris would inevitably fall back asleep for an hour.
It gave him time to go for his phone.
“I’m compromised.”
That was all he had to say to set things in motion. There were no judgements, no questions, just a quick movement to marshall forces. It was within the hour that he was relieved, a man nearly as tall as he with a strong jaw, a few years older. Capable. Competent. They shook hands, and Chanyeol slipped out without a word.
All he left was a note in his own handwriting stating that his replacement would do just as good a job as he had. He had a notebook full of information for the man to study. Ideally, Chanyeol would have let his successor shadow him for a day at least, but it hadn’t been a possibility.
Kris’s questions, his arguments, his potential disappointment, none of those things were things Chanyeol wanted to deal with. Goodbyes weren’t his strong suit.
***
“Chanyeol.”
Not the cajoling voice. He tried to bury his face in his pillow, groaning at the touch on his neck.
“Too early.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Why-“
Chanyeol froze, the thumb stroking his neck not stopping even though it had to be clear that Chanyeol realized something was up. Something, when he rose one eye out of the pillow, that was Kris resting beside him on his hotel bed.
“Wuh.”
“I’d think that you of all people would know to lock your deadbolt at least,” Kris said. “$100 and an autograph talked me into your keycard.”
Chanyeol’s head rose up all the way then, not in outrage over the total invasion of his privacy.
“Where is your bodyguard?” Chanyeol demanded.
Kris laughed. “Outside in the hallway. Don’t worry. I didn’t run away just to find you.”
“But you broke in to my hotel room. Yes, you broke in with a card you- You realize now why I never let you stay in a room by yourself?”
“Now I do,” Kris agreed.
“I leave and you do things that could get you arrested,” Chanyeol said, jabbing out his hand into Kris’s shoulder. But there was still a hand on his neck, warmly curling there, not threatening at all. And then he got to the question he should’ve asked to start with. “Why?”
“Did you leave because we slept together?” Kris asked, and he shook his head when Chanyeol’s mouth popped open in outrage. “I know, that’s not an answer. But it’s part of why I’m here.”
Chanyeol considered his words. “If all we’d done was sleep together, maybe. It was wildly inappropriate and a violation of the trust you had in my looking out for you. There’s a point of compromise when objectivity is lost.“
And Chanyeol exhaled, because that was the one thing he hadn’t been prepared to admit.
“How long were you with me?” Kris asked, and his thumb started up again on Chanyeol’s neck.
“Four months?”
“Five,” Kris corrected. “You should come back and stay with me. This new guy doesn’t smile as much. He’s kind of a stick in the mud, really.”
“I can’t guard you any more,” Chanyeol said, and he felt tired for the first time since his adrenaline had started pumping.
All of his morning breath stopped up when Kris leaned in and kissed him, warm and cool all at once. The fingers sliding over his skin almost made him shiver, and it made him want to reach, and he knew how much he couldn’t.
“Not to be my bodyguard,” Kris said, and it almost sounded like he was laughing at Chanyeol. “To be with me.”
His mind conjured up any number of images, some of them so wanted, and some of them so frightening.
“How. What if anyone found out. What if-“
He breathed into Kris’s neck and babbled out all the reasons it was a bad idea, and why it shouldn’t work, and how compromising it would be for Kris.
And when he was through, winded, blinded by the sun rising outside the hotel room window, Kris hadn’t let him go, slowing worming closer under the sheets.
“We can sleep on it,” Kris suggested, and it was such a terrible joke that Chanyeol groaned as Kris chuckled against his hair.
“Missed you,” Kris murmured, along with things Chanyeol wasn’t ready to hear. And he was the one who fell asleep first, waking to Kris’s slack face in the day-bright room.
“No one who’d see you like this would thing you were such a big time star,” Chanyeol grumbled. But he put his head back on the pillow and kept his arm around Kris. They’d see if it was a dream they could hold, or if it was something they would both need to wake from.
***
Prompt: “You realise you can’t actually trick someone into a relationship with you?” again up to you.
***
Most of the time, dating seemed to follow a couple of steps no matter what. First, there always had to be a first meeting. Second, someone agreed to go on a date. Generally those things were universal. Lu Han wasn’t leaving out online dating, no, because he thought that qualified as meeting and dating as well.
Given, the first meeting had already happened. It had gone well, given that there had been half a dozen other people there. It hadn’t been for them to meet, though. Still, when Lu Han had looked up to see Minseok grinning at one of Jongdae’s jokes, he’d been pretty sure that was what the universe had intended. Granted, a lot of people he knew wanted to get introduced to people by their friends or family. So, he had a bit of a leg up. He didn’t want to totally chase Minseok away, though.
“Maybe if I say I want someone to go sightseeing with, he’ll get used to me,” Lu Han said, staring at the ceiling.
For a moment Yixing was silent, before - ow - kicking him in the ankle. “You realize you can’t actually trick someone into a relationship with you?”
It wasn’t as though Minseok had said he wasn’t interested in dating. Lu Han wasn’t a total dick. He was just wanting Minseok to get to see some of his charms, possibly to the point where he’d want to follow Lu Han home.
***
It took a week and a little finagling to get Minseok’s number. It was Minseok himself who texted it to Lu Han, after he’d maybe smiled a bit too eagerly at Joonmyun and Jongdae. He tried not to be too eager about texting. No more than five per day unless Minseok asked a question, none while drinking, and definitely none outside of normal waking hours. Getting Minseok alone at dinners was harder, since their friends were all busybodies in and out of everyone’s laps, but Lu Han figured asking in person was best. He’d given Minseok the benefit of asking in person, and if he got rejected, he got rejected.
“Do you like museums?” Lu Han asked, keeping an eye out to make sure Jongdae was still out of their little corner.
Minseok nearly frowned at him, before nodding. “Oh, yeah!”
Perfect. One step closer. “Are there any you’d recommend or want to go to?”
Minseok was in the middle of his response when Jongdae sat down and smoothly entered the conversation. For a very, very long moment Lu Han was afraid that his plans would be ruined, that Jongdae would invite himself along - though Lu Han was still working his way up to the inviting - and three was way too big a number for Lu Han’s plans.
What he didn’t know, until Jongdae gave him a sly wink, was that Yixing had clued Jongdae in. Lu Han’s head went up, glaring in Yixing’s direction, and received a smile back that only an angel should have carried off. It looked wrong on the face of someone who was…well. Okay, trying to help him.
Jongdae all but tittered, “You should go with him, Minseok. He has a terrible sense of direction. He almost got lost in a bathroom once when-“
“I did not!” Lu Han contested, hand stinging when he hit the table. “Don’t tell lies!”
But Minseok was laughing. And apparently, he had Sunday free.
***
“We’re getting to know each other,” Lu Han said into the phone, lips pressing together since he knew Yixing was laughing silently.
“If he hasn’t caught on, he’s very slow,” Yixing said. As though he could talk. “How many times have you gotten him to go out with you?”
Four. Maybe five. He wasn’t sure if the ice cream outing with Jongin in their back pockets counted. There had been the museum. A movie. An impromptu shopping trip for a desk chair for Minseok (which had meant that Lu Han had gained entrance to his apartment). Said ice cream outing. A dinner after a long day.
He liked Minseok’s face in the shadows, and when his face could barely be seen because of a scarf, and when his cheeks and nose were red from cold, and when he was laughing.
And Yixing was sighing at him.
“If he’s willing to do all that with you, he’d probably agree to go out with you on an official date, not just a pretend one. He might even let you kiss his pretty lips after.”
“You think his lips are pretty?” Lu Han asked darkly.
“Only because you’ve told me they are about twenty times,” Yixing chirped right back. And then he gave good advice, as Yixing could. “He’ll probably be glad when you suck it up and ask him out. Maybe he thinks you’ve decided to just be friends.”
“No! Wait. But if he wants me to ask him, why isn’t he asking me? Are you holding out on me?”
“Maybe he doesn’t- I’ll call him and tell him you date men. One second.”
“Don’t- Zhang Yixing!”
Yixing didn’t stop randomly giggling over the phone for the next ten minutes, and Lu Han didn’t have the heart or the strength to hang up on him.
***
Lu Han was very careful, like a stealthy shark, to sit away from Minseok when Kris ganged up on everyone and dragged them out to dinner. He was sandwiched between Jongdae and Joonmyun which meant he had two men either leaning forward to talk around him, or leaning behind him to smack at each other. Minseok thankfully was between Kris and Sehun, with Yixing occupied by Chanyeol. It made some of the imaginary heartburn subside. Yixing could be subtle. Mostly. Minseok would probably think that Yixing was trying to flirt with him, though, instead of trying to fish for information for Lu Han.
It wasn’t like at one point he was going to leap out and say, “Surprise, we’re dating!”
He watched for a moment as Minseok’s tongue ran across his upper lip, his laughter rolling across the table, and felt his face turning red.
“Probably the bravest thing you could do is tell him,” Yixing had told him before they’d arrived. “At least you’re honest, then, too.”
They might possibly have stuck their tongues out at each other after that. And as people filtered out, Lu Han got closer and closer to Minseok’s side. Perhaps tonight, he thought, picking up his shot glass and taking the drink down. He had Minseok against him. He could do it.
***
They perhaps drank a little too much. Not excessively too much, but to the point where he may have had to catch at Minseok to steady himself a few times, and Minseok had nearly tipped them both over trying to correct him. At least it was cool, which contributed to him feeling more alert by the time they’d wound back to Minseok’s apartment, talking, their arms linked for stability. Or maybe Minseok didn’t trust him.
“Come up for a while,” Minseok urged.
There could be more to drink up there, Lu Han reasoned. Minseok’s apartment. It was comfortable and nice. Warm, too. The perfect place to relax a while. Maybe Minseok had food, and his apartment always smelled really nice, and was really tidy. Actually. That was kind of like Minseok himself. It made Lu Han want to ruffle him up a little, see what he looked like with his clothes askew and mouth swollen. He probably looked amazing in rumpled sheets, wearing nothing but a smile.
Lu Han sighed his frustration out with that image, as Minseok let him into his apartment. For a moment, he stared down at his shoes, wondering how he would get them off. And then, he realized that the toes of Minseok’s shoes had gotten a lot closer.
It was so easy to inhale before Minseok pressed wet lips against his. Minseok’s fingers were cool pressing in his jaw, and Lu Han’s mouth parted, moaning as Minseok kissed him. Just a little more, he wanted just a little more as he gripped Minseok’s hips. More of Minseok’s arms around his neck, the touch of his tongue, and the rumbling little noises he made.
Gorgeous, Lu Han thought, as he watched Minseok’s eyelashes wing up. And then Minseok smiled and Lu Han wondered if he’d said that out loud.
All Lu Han could do was stand still as Minseok moved and pressed up against his back. Minseok was hard, and fuck, so was he. It was all he could do not to grind back against Minseok or find the nearest sturdy piece of furniture to brace himself against so Minseok could do his best. He’d gotten right up to imagining Minseok moaning against the back of his neck, before swapping to thinking maybe Minseok could back him right up against a wall. And then Yixing’s words came back to him.
They weren’t dating. Minseok was tipsy. They were both tipsy. He didn’t want it to be like that.
It was harder than he would have imagined to extricate himself from Minseok’s winding arms, turning and bracing himself on Minseok’s shoulders. That was kind of a mistake because one look at those pouting lips had him leaning in, startled when Minseok’s tongue was every bit as aggressive as his. If Minseok got his arms around Lu Han again, to pull away he would have to-
His breathing was ragged as he braced his arms, really braced them so that they were a couple of feet apart. So Lu Han could think. Or try.
“I can’t- Tonight, I have to- I’m going to go home, but… Tomorrow? I’ll text you. Okay?”
“Sure, okay,” Minseok said, a sneaky hand rubbing at Lu Han’s wrist.
When Lu Han leaned in for a kiss goodbye, a wholly unrecommended action, it probably looked like he was trying to kiss a grizzly bear. He got just close enough for their lips to really meet, before springing back and wedging himself out the door.
If only he’d made sure Minseok was interested to begin with-
He hated when Yixing was right.
***
Lu Han had a plan. Most of one. His plan, as it were, was to text Minseok and make sure he was at home, and then pick up something on the way there that would symbolize his interest. He didn’t want wine, flowers, or food. In reality, his plan was only running by the skin of his teeth and getting there with nothing but lint in his pocket and an explanation for why he’d scurried out the night before. Though he consoled himself that maybe bringing something was tacky anyway, and it would allow Minseok to focus on him. Possibly also he was the gift, that could be interpreted.
No, that was too cheesy and gross.
Minseok at least didn’t look upset when he opened the door to let Lu Han in. Right there where he was standing, Minseok had been up against him. And he put that all out of his head.
“You okay from last night?” he asked. “The drinking.”
Not the kissing.
Minseok half lifted a hand to his head. “Oh, yeah. Woke up a little hungover, but it’s better now.”
“Good. So, um…Last night. I left. But… Can I take you to dinner?” Lu Han said, the last words all but blurted. “I don’t mean. Not just dinner. I want to date you. I don’t want it to just be…”
His hand flopped out in explanation, hoping Minseok would read between the lines he’d crudely drawn.
Minseok laughed, and Lu Han stared. He had no idea what was going on.
“I thought we were!”
Lu Han blinked. Minseok tilted his head. And then a smile started creeping across Lu Han’s face, because…he’d done it. He’d really done it. But then he was confused when Minseok stepped back before Lu Han could grab him.
“I think you owe me dinner first,” Minseok said.
“Okay,” Lu Han said. It seemed Minseok had been ahead of him all along.
***
Prompt: suho/kai - http://youtu.be/WrxslbYthQ4 - translations of lyrics: http://musicbox-trans.livejournal.com/57763.html#cutid1
***
The words Joonmyun wrote were lost to the tide, filled in with bubbles and being smoothed. Actually, he nearly lost his shoes to that same tide, scrambling to grab them and get back before the water slid too far up his legs. He could relate to that feeling, things that were once crisp and new being worn away. And yet, in a fanciful sort of way, he was glad his words were gone.
I miss you.
I’m waiting for you.
I hope you’re smiling.
He was pretty sure Jongin had to be. The ocean took his words, and maybe carried them away. They wouldn’t be found like he’d trapped them in a bottle, but they weren’t bottled up inside of him.
Jongin had said something like that once, that it wasn’t good to keep things in, especially if there was something that could be done about them. And maybe he didn’t know it at that moment, but his words had been heard.
***
When Jongin had left Joonmyun’s apartment that had been the only goodbye they were getting because Jongin’s parents were taking him to the airport. Joonmyun hadn’t been in tears, but several had dripped down Jongin’s cheeks, caught by Joonmyun’s palms.
“I know you don’t like the food, but you have to eat,” Joonmyun said, getting a damp chuckle.
“How many scolding messages are you going to send me?”
“As many as you need,” Joonmyun promised.
“It’s just six months,” Jongin said.
But it was more than that. It was preparation time, and adjusting after he returned.
All Joonmyun had when Jongin had gone was a fading impression of Jongin’s arms around him, wet palms, and a framed picture of Jongin in his suit looking very serious and regal, helmet under one arm.
***
All of Joonmyun’s communication with Jongin included references of food, and most of Jongin’s communication back was rude in response. Their communication was not strictly private, and that was the way Jongin knew that he was being loved. The foods that got the rudest response went onto a list for when Jongin was back. He would’ve traded almost anything to get one video chat - and knew he had to be satisfied with what he got. It didn’t really make him feel better to know at one point he would’ve had nothing to do but wait. He didn’t know if that would’ve made it harder or not.
He spent time a couple of nights a week on the roof of his building in a chair he’d dragged up. It was warm enough that he could rest there and look up seeing what stars made it through the light pollution. Every so often he could see the blinking light of an airplane going overhead, and he waved at the passengers on them. That would be him. In five months. Four. Two. Three weeks.
Jongin sounded both sad and excited to see him. Sad, because coming home meant abandoning what he loved if only temporarily. It was also leaving behind stress and a not-inconsiderable amount of danger. It would mean returning to Joonmyun and his three piece suits, and all the food he could possibly want and their specially selected mattress. Because it was comfortable, not because it was suited to old bones, no matter what Jongin said.
***
Some mornings he woke up from a dream that Jongin was breathing against the back of his head and he half reached back to feel Jongin’s face. Those were the days he went out to the water, or aggressively cleaned the shower, or dragged out some of Jongin’s old photo albums. The pictures of Jongin’s high school graduation with the stupid picture of Joonmyun looking a little startled while Jongin grinned. And then from Joonmyun’s college graduation, the picture where he was a little disgruntled because Jongin was wearing his graduation cap. And Jongin’s college graduation picture, when Joonmyun had done the only right thing and stole Jongin’s cap instead. There were pictures of celebrations of new jobs, promotions, and one of Jongin where he was so flushed and pleased with himself from drinking that Joonmyun had been forced to take a picture.
There were vacations, grumpy pictures on trains and buses, one of Joonmyun’s sleeping and slack face in front of an airplane window. Joonmyun’s favorite was when he had flown out to join Jongin, standing with his back against Jongin’s chest, on a Florida beach and grinning with the ocean behind them.
The jet trails against the blue sky were a good sign, he thought, as he went back to the apartment with his shopping bag full of Jongin’s favorite snacks. It had taken him almost a year into Jongin’s first year of college to ask him out, and when he had it had been over ramen and chips.
Jongin had sputtered spicy broth all over himself.
Joonmyun wasn’t sure how much better he could do to welcome Jongin back than something they had been sharing together for over a decade.
I’m going to eat everything before you get here.
Joonmyun felt lighter than he had in a week when all Jongin had replied with had been a string of sad faces.
***
Joonmyun’s eyes were fixed on the monitor waiting for Jongin to land. He’d been restless the whole morning, obsessing over the weather and half smothering himself in the hotel pillows. He was jet lagged, antsy with anticipation. He kept himself from walking to the windows to see if he could see anything. He could wait, knowing Jongin was safe, but until those wheels were on the ground he wasn’t content.
Every station on the TV didn’t catch his interest, the language unfamiliar to his ears and the writing different than anything he had studied. He was in a country he had never been to, as close as he dared to Jongin’s return. Jongin would return to Korea, to greet his parents formally, though Joonmyun didn’t quite know on what day he’d go back. Joonmyun was there three days, just three days. He’d stared into the Kazakhstan desert during his small tour, feeling his heart clutch every time he looked up. That was when the waiting had been bearable. Each progressive hour made it less so, until he hadn’t even been able to sleep.
His cheer at the spacecraft’s safe landing might have rocked the building.
***
When Jongin came to him, it was in uniform, as straight and tall as a young tree. He looked tired and so eager, stepping into the hotel room almost before Joonmyun had a chance to open the door fully. Joonmyun reached out, brushing his fingertips over the insignia on Jongin’s chest.
“Captain Kim,” Joonmyun said, smiling. “Welcome home.”
“It’ll take a bit of adjusting, but… it’s nice to be on land again,” Jongin said, squeezing Joonmyun’s shoulders as he did.
“Did you bring me back a moon rock or anything?” Joonmyun asked, eyes wide. And frowned when Jongin shook his head. “What’s the point of having an astronaut for a-“
“Maybe when I actually go to the moon,” Jongin growled, and caught Joonmyun up into the tightest hug. He smelled like Jongin, even with different products, he smelled like Jongin. Jongin wasn’t the first into space, and wouldn’t be the last, but those six months, he knew Jongin would have so much to tell. But Jongin when he spoke next was just what Joonmyun had been expecting. “You didn’t really eat all of my favorite food, did you?”
“You have to see. Jongin!” He was hitched right off of his feet as Jongin carried him laughing the rest of the way into the room.
***
Prompt: Tablo/Kangta - basically they're grumpy older guys, defrosting around each other due to Kangta being a smooth bastard and Tablo being clever and funny, maybe in some bar somewhere? and they get tipsy and Tablo thinks Kangta is REALLY attractive so. making out.
***
The first drink went down smooth. Or, Daniel thought it did for a moment at least, until he was clearing his throat at the fire in it. A man was across from him, an acquaintance more than anything. His name was Chilhyun, and every mutual friend and stranger it seemed had said they needed to get to know each other. Which was how they ended up in a bar, sitting across from each other, drinking in silence. They hadn’t even had the intelligence to pick out a bar with blaring music so they could’ve at least pretended something was impeding them. Instead, there was some kind of jazzy music being piped in that barely covered the murmur of other conversations and people swaying together on the postage-stamp sized designated dance floor.
Actually, it was almost a bit too faux-romantic when he thought about it. He was going to have to have a talk with whoever had decided they meet there.
“Have you been here before?” Daniel asked, feeling that was at least a good place to begin.
“No, I haven’t.”
And that was that. No anecdote, no follow-up question. Though they took another swallow almost in unison. He wasn’t going to go home and have to tell his friends that they’d sat together in mutual silence, so he was going to have to make an effort.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he said. And figured he’d start off. “I like summer weather but I don’t really like heat.”
“I’m single,” Chilhyun said a bit wryly. “I like beef. I like driving with music on. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date.”
There was a sarcastic quip in his head that Daniel let fly by. They were there to get to know each other, not for him to be a comedian. The fact that Chilhyun was handsome, almost ridiculously so with dark-framed glasses and a white shirt with the top button undone. Daniel blocked that out most of the time, but it wasn’t like he could unsee it. But Chilhyun’s mannerisms reminded him of a professor, or an office manager. Just a touch unapproachable, which made him a bit of a challenge and a bit offputting at the same time. He also was about to insult the choice of place, before realizing he should probably suss out likes and dislikes first.
“This the kind of place you like going out to?”
Chilhyun grimaced a bit. “To relax, it’d be nice. A restaurant or something more alive is nicer, though.”
“Concerts?”
“For certain. Any you’ve been to recently?”
Daniel had to stop himself from putting a hand over his heart when Kanta took the initiative and asked him a question.
“Yeah, I’ve been to a few, actually.”
Music was comfortable for him to discuss. They’d actually been at the same concert six months previous, and had similar stories to tell - poor organized, terrible seating, great music. Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in, but it got easier. He could almost see Kanga beginning to relax, and they went from having three things to talk about including where they were, what they were drinking, and the weather, to over a dozen.
That buttoned-up look was starting to look better all the time.
***
They weren’t going to get caught in some bar or a car like teenagers. The third time he’d seen Kanta very deliberately checking out his mouth, he’d figured they’d had enough to drink. Finding a secure place was more important. Maybe getting to know each other better by making out was kind of a crude form of personal interaction, and he sure as hell wasn’t a teenager any more, but as long as everyone was willing, he wasn’t backing off. Maybe it was cute to wait around and date for months first, but he didn’t think either of them were that kind of guy. If they didn’t come out on the top of the compatibility heap, they moved on. The only reason he was interested in it to begin with was because he thought there was a chance. If he’d been bored to death, it was a deal breaker. If his mind wasn’t being engaged, there was almost no chance his body was going to be, no matter how how Chilhyun was.
Chilhyun’s place was closer, and he had no objections. They didn’t leap on each other like hungry dogs the second the door closed behind them, either, and it wasn’t like Daniel got a tour. He didn’t need soft, and he definitely didn’t need romance. But they shared grins when Kanga flopped onto the couch and stretched out his arm along the back. A place for Daniel, right there.
No hesitation, right form the first kiss. A hand in Daniel’s hair as he pressed Chilhyun’s head back, lips pressing, rubbing, demanding. No fireworks, but a hell of a lot of interest, kneading Chilhyun’s thigh and sucking on his tongue. No soft and tender learning kisses, but a lot of want. If neither of them had dated in a while that made sense. Get a little. FInd out if it was worth it. Maybe get off.
He learned a lot about Chilhyun just from those kisses, the way he touched, and a lot of that he absolutely liked.
“Want music?” Chilhyun jested, grinning, and Daniel laughed and kissed him to shut him up.
***
Prompt: drabble or short fic. of some sort with Zhou Mi and Changmin?
***
The thing about cold was that it promoted closeness. Only his face was peeking out of the sleeping bag he was in, and the only reason he was as warm as he was was because Changmin was squeezed in with him, and draped all over him. Camping would be fun, Changmin had assured him.
Mostly not.
Somewhere around the point where both of them had ideas about which pole went where in the tent (and each of them had been half right), the sky had seen fit to start opening up. What had been meant to be a charming dinner roasting sausages and drinking by the fire had ended up a miserable, damp huddle in the tent eating snacks and listening to the rain as their trusty light flickered in and out. Well, it could’ve been more miserable, really. At least they had food and plenty of water. And empty bottles at least meant they didn’t have to venture out into the downpour.
“Is this where we tell ghost stories about water monsters?” Zhou Mi teased, and Changmin’s laugh came with a smack to the arm. At least he was well padded, since he had his coat fully zipped up even in the tent. More than ever he wished for a fire.
Their sleeping bags had been pre-zipped together, which made it easy to strip out of their shoes, don another layer of socks, and crawl right in. Even if the light wasn’t great, Changmin pulled up a book on his phone, and then it felt almost like it should’ve, trying to squirm closer together as Changmin read aloud from a book they’d chosen and had been steadily working through. The light illuminated Changmin’s face, and it was a nice face, so Zhou Mi had two whole things to appreciate. Three, if he counted how their legs were tangled.
The earlier they slept, the earlier they could leave. There was that. He kindly didn’t mention the times in the middle of the night when a stray branch was blown against their tent and Changmin nearly covered him up thinking a bear was trying to get in, or an axe murderer.
“I want a hot breakfast,” Zhou Mi said, his breath showing in the cold as they shoved things in bags, and things in other bags that they didn’t belong in so they could sort it out later. “A gallon of tea. A bathtub of it.”
“It would’ve been better with the fire and sausages,” Changmin hazarded. Like a hunk of meat would’ve solved everything.
“How did I let you talk me into this,” he asked, when his teeth were chattering and he was zipping into his second coat. They were going home. Warmth.
Changmin surprised him with a kiss square on the nose. “Adventure.”
Prompt: Zhou Mi and Zitao shopping trip AU? [Maybe they debate favourite brands and other things of the sort; or just run around shopping together?]
***
“Ge!”
There was such happiness in the word, excitement, like a miner finding gold after having dug a thousand holes, and Zhou Mi knew exactly what he was going to see when he looked up - Zitao holding up the shirt they’d been looking for, in the size they hadn’t been able to find.
There were not enough words to explain a shopping find. Most of the people Zhou Mi attempted to explain it to took on a very indulgent expression, or straight-up disbelief, that too. Zitao was his little brother by shopping, his protege, his partner in fabulous sunglasses.
Some of shopping was a strategy, because sales came and went but stores more or less stayed in the same places. Clearance wasn’t something that was advertised, though, so unless they visited they couldn’t see what had been marked down to less shocking prices, and from there, finding what they could that was in their size. Though, there were a couple of occasions he’d come across a shirt he’d loved too much that was too big. The tailoring had been well worth that.
Zitao was a good person to shop with too, because they were both tall, both built about the same. He could stand back and if he didn’t think it looked good on Zitao, then he could be fairly certain it wouldn’t look good on him either. They didn’t like all the same things, and Zitao went starry eyed over patterns that made Zhou Mi’s eyes hurt, but no matter how disparate their tastes went at times, it was a hundred times better than someone checking the time on their phone and gently suggesting they go get something to eat.
Though Zitao loved to eat, too, and Zhou Mi was good enough to buy food for him, grinning at Zitao across the table as he cherished getting treated.
Though they eyed each other when there was only one of something they wanted. He-who-held-it usually won, but there were negotiations that went on, especially if there was more than one item they were bargaining with. This one shirt in the correct size for another shirt in the correct size that was liked better. It was hard to have hard feelings when Zitao sometimes all but leaped into his arms in excitement.
They talked of home, Zitao’s soft voice going wistful, sometimes choking him almost as they sat together beside the river. Just having someone near who spoke a language their hearts could connect to made home not seem that far away. Family they could contact, but the friends that they made nearby were their family, too. They had their bags, and their fun, and their music, and their to-go cups of tea.
And the promise of another sale next week.
***