(no subject)
new : fanfic : super junior
rating : PG
pairing : shindong x sungmin
suju 100 fic challenge. also seeded by this amazing magical pairing/prompt generator, which gave me: sungmin / shindong / how did we get here?
note: this plays fast and loose with timeframes, hair colors, and living spaces. as much as I'm loving the M boys, I felt like T deserved an extra dose of attention.
096. "i like you. i like you. i like you."
Shin Donghee has the peculiar ability to wake up without a hangover, no matter how heavily he has imbibed the night before. When his fellow revelers are still hiding in their beds (or staking out toilets), he can often be found cheerfully humming a tune in the kitchen, unaffected by smells, loud sounds, or bright lights. Most people would say it's a blessing.
Shindong, however, would argue that there are times when the 'morning-after' fog could be quite beneficial.
Such as right now.
It's not the first time he's woken up without a stitch on--the part that concerns him is the warm, equally naked body currently making sleepy-happy little whuffling noises into his neck.
He hasn't dared to open his eyes yet, but is dearly hoping Youngoon managed to sneak some girls up after the part of last night that he can actively remember. Otherwise, his odds of coming out of this morning relatively unscathed aren't looking too good.
He risks cracking one open, then immediately wishes he hadn't. The shock of fading pink hair is unmistakable, for one, and he's fairly sure that neither he nor Sungmin would have put up that poster (some ghoulishly made-up, piercing-studded rock star, who seems to be exposing almost as much thigh as he is right now) on their walls, even on a drunken dare.
The risk of getting caught here, in this state, by Heechul... well, it's enough to spur him into action. "...wake up. Sungmin-ah?" He prods gingerly at the arm draped across his chest until the younger boy stirs, blinking up at him sleepily.
About five seconds later, Sungmin's eyes widen and a dull flush stains his cheeks.
Shindong tries for an awkward chuckle. "Well, I must have slept pretty comfortably, I guess..." Not that that really explains why Sungmin is no more clothed than he is, of course, but it's the thought that counts.
Sungmin rolls off of him in a flurry that takes the sheet along, hits the floor, and throws on clothing faster than Shindong has ever seen him dress. He leaves the room with such alacrity that Shindong is left wondering whether or not he should be insulted.
It's not fair, he thinks. He's the straight one (and no matter how loudly Youngoon protests that, Shindong is quite sure that neither Heechul nor Jungsu count as girls in that respect). Silly crushes aside--hey, he's surrounded by men 24/7, and any girls who aren't typically separated from them by a line of security guards are more like little sisters to him, so it'd be strange if he never did get a little confused--there are relatively few people that Shindong is especially close to, and one of them just fled the room. In retrospect, getting so drunk that he apparently thought it would be a good idea to act on said crush was clearly not the smartest thing he's ever done.
The door swings open again, but it's just Heechul, wandering in with dark rings under his eyes, bite-marks all over his neck and shoulders (the stylists are going to kill him for that one), and a pair of unbuttoned jeans precariously clinging to his hips. He stops in the middle of the room and itches his thigh, frowning.
Shindong reaches for a pillow to cover himself, rethinks that when he spots the furrow between Heechul's brows deepen, and tugs a corner of the blanket over his lap instead, with a helpless shrug. "Sorry, hyung," he says, and scoots toward the edge of the bed, hoping his clothes are within reach.
Heechul just grunts, though, and throws himself down atop the blankets, curling up on his side. There are nail-marks down his back, too, and he smells overwhelmingly of rum.
At least he isn't having to dodge any flying objects, Shindong reasons. And he's pretty sure he hasn't got any nail-marks. Or any memory of incidents that would result in nail-marks. It would be really, epically unfair if he got some and couldn't remember the occasion. Not that he was hoping for an occasion of that sort, and certainly not with Sungmin. Who is never going to speak to him again.
Heechul makes a noise suspiciously like a grating snore. Shindong settles for his underwear and a (suspiciously pink) t-shirt when his pants are nowhere to be found, and edges out of the room.
There's no sign of life in the hallway, so he scuttles for the bathroom, only to find Hyukjae asleep in the tub, minus one sock.
He's had better mornings, to be sure....
By the time Shindong locates a pair of pants (and convinces Hyukjae to relocate), it's almost lunch-time, but he can't seem to summon much appetite. He starts back for the bathroom, carrying a change of clothes, and nearly runs into Sungmin, who has just emerged from his room. Sungmin's face turns pink again, and he reverses direction so swiftly that he almost walks into the doorframe.
"...Oh," Shindong says, lamely. "About last night..." he starts to inform the vacant hallway, then stops, to contemplate the futility of it. It's alright, he wants to say. I wouldn't want to wake up next to me, either. If it's all a big joke, maybe it will sting less.
He takes a shower, instead.
On the way to a performance, later, he can feel Sungmin looking at him, but every time he turns around, the younger's gaze jerks guiltily out the window.
Everything is backwards and upside-down, and Shindong doesn't know how to right it.
It's dumb luck that he spots Sungmin headed out the door with his scooter helmet under one arm, after they get back to the apartments. Usually, he gets an invitation, but he isn't going to let Sungmin turn into a shadow around him, stupid mistakes or no.
Running down so many flights of stairs is no easy task, either. He's puffing by the time he reaches the garage, unable to shout, to stop Sungmin from swinging a leg over his scooter and pulling away. And when he looks back and spots him (bent over and panting for air), Shindong thinks that's exactly what he's going to do.
Sungmin stops, though, poised to climb onto the bike for a long, indecisive moment before he turns back, visor shading his face from view.
Trudging closer, Shindong raises his hands (see, I'm harmless) and swallows gasps of air until he can speak again. "Hey..." He still doesn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. Awkward, huh?" All he can see is Sungmin's mouth, thinned and unhappy. "Really... I never meant for anything like that to happen. You know how I just... take stuff off in my sleep." He rubs his forehead, wipes sweat away on the thigh of his jeans. "So... you don't have to worry about being jumped, or something." His chuckle falls flat. "We're friends, there's nothing weird about that."
"...and what if I like you?" Sungmin's voice is so soft, Shindong can't believe he heard that right.
"...What?"
"I... I like you. And because of that... I made you do something you wouldn't do if you were sober. I'm really sorry... some friend I am. I'm sorry." Sungmin bows deeply, arms stiff at his sides and fingers clenched as the words spill out. "...and I know it's inappropriate, and I know you're straight, and I know this probably freaks you out, but you're you and I like you and I really can't help it, no matter what you say--oh god, why am I still talking?"
Shindong is stunned to silence, as the younger boy straightens slowly back up, puffing air through his cheeks and giving his head a little shake. Sungmin turns to go, but he makes a grab for his wrist and holds tight. "W-wait..." His voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat. "What, exactly, was it that I wouldn't do sober...?"
Sungmin gives a helpless little laugh, tugging at his captive wrist without any real will behind it. "You don't want to know."
"I do want to know."
"We..." Sungmin hesitates, tongue wetting his lips nervously. "...I kissed you." He flinches, when Shindong reaches for the helmet, like he thinks he's going to get hit.
Shindong suspects a part of his brain may have had some kind of meltdown between the part shrieking 'not gay! not gay!' and the part bellowing 'do it before he bolts!', but he's already leaning in close, and it's too late to pull back now. Sungmin's lips are very soft, and it's not at all like kissing a girl, because girls don't smell like Sungmin or make that little surprised sound in their throats. That might be mostly because he doesn't go around kissing girls by surprise, though.
When he does pull back, he is pretty sure his expression must be almost as dumbfounded as Sungmin's, but they're both still breathing, and that's a plus. "...What was it, again, that I wouldn't do if I were sober?"
Sungmin looks at him through his lashes for a moment, then offers (in a tentatively hopeful tone of voice), "...We kissed a lot?"
"...Okay." Shindong shrugs, and leans back in to settle that.
...so I am ridiculously proud of myself for finally writing a ShinMin 8D
rating : PG
pairing : shindong x sungmin
suju 100 fic challenge. also seeded by this amazing magical pairing/prompt generator, which gave me: sungmin / shindong / how did we get here?
note: this plays fast and loose with timeframes, hair colors, and living spaces. as much as I'm loving the M boys, I felt like T deserved an extra dose of attention.
096. "i like you. i like you. i like you."
Shin Donghee has the peculiar ability to wake up without a hangover, no matter how heavily he has imbibed the night before. When his fellow revelers are still hiding in their beds (or staking out toilets), he can often be found cheerfully humming a tune in the kitchen, unaffected by smells, loud sounds, or bright lights. Most people would say it's a blessing.
Shindong, however, would argue that there are times when the 'morning-after' fog could be quite beneficial.
Such as right now.
It's not the first time he's woken up without a stitch on--the part that concerns him is the warm, equally naked body currently making sleepy-happy little whuffling noises into his neck.
He hasn't dared to open his eyes yet, but is dearly hoping Youngoon managed to sneak some girls up after the part of last night that he can actively remember. Otherwise, his odds of coming out of this morning relatively unscathed aren't looking too good.
He risks cracking one open, then immediately wishes he hadn't. The shock of fading pink hair is unmistakable, for one, and he's fairly sure that neither he nor Sungmin would have put up that poster (some ghoulishly made-up, piercing-studded rock star, who seems to be exposing almost as much thigh as he is right now) on their walls, even on a drunken dare.
The risk of getting caught here, in this state, by Heechul... well, it's enough to spur him into action. "...wake up. Sungmin-ah?" He prods gingerly at the arm draped across his chest until the younger boy stirs, blinking up at him sleepily.
About five seconds later, Sungmin's eyes widen and a dull flush stains his cheeks.
Shindong tries for an awkward chuckle. "Well, I must have slept pretty comfortably, I guess..." Not that that really explains why Sungmin is no more clothed than he is, of course, but it's the thought that counts.
Sungmin rolls off of him in a flurry that takes the sheet along, hits the floor, and throws on clothing faster than Shindong has ever seen him dress. He leaves the room with such alacrity that Shindong is left wondering whether or not he should be insulted.
It's not fair, he thinks. He's the straight one (and no matter how loudly Youngoon protests that, Shindong is quite sure that neither Heechul nor Jungsu count as girls in that respect). Silly crushes aside--hey, he's surrounded by men 24/7, and any girls who aren't typically separated from them by a line of security guards are more like little sisters to him, so it'd be strange if he never did get a little confused--there are relatively few people that Shindong is especially close to, and one of them just fled the room. In retrospect, getting so drunk that he apparently thought it would be a good idea to act on said crush was clearly not the smartest thing he's ever done.
The door swings open again, but it's just Heechul, wandering in with dark rings under his eyes, bite-marks all over his neck and shoulders (the stylists are going to kill him for that one), and a pair of unbuttoned jeans precariously clinging to his hips. He stops in the middle of the room and itches his thigh, frowning.
Shindong reaches for a pillow to cover himself, rethinks that when he spots the furrow between Heechul's brows deepen, and tugs a corner of the blanket over his lap instead, with a helpless shrug. "Sorry, hyung," he says, and scoots toward the edge of the bed, hoping his clothes are within reach.
Heechul just grunts, though, and throws himself down atop the blankets, curling up on his side. There are nail-marks down his back, too, and he smells overwhelmingly of rum.
At least he isn't having to dodge any flying objects, Shindong reasons. And he's pretty sure he hasn't got any nail-marks. Or any memory of incidents that would result in nail-marks. It would be really, epically unfair if he got some and couldn't remember the occasion. Not that he was hoping for an occasion of that sort, and certainly not with Sungmin. Who is never going to speak to him again.
Heechul makes a noise suspiciously like a grating snore. Shindong settles for his underwear and a (suspiciously pink) t-shirt when his pants are nowhere to be found, and edges out of the room.
There's no sign of life in the hallway, so he scuttles for the bathroom, only to find Hyukjae asleep in the tub, minus one sock.
He's had better mornings, to be sure....
By the time Shindong locates a pair of pants (and convinces Hyukjae to relocate), it's almost lunch-time, but he can't seem to summon much appetite. He starts back for the bathroom, carrying a change of clothes, and nearly runs into Sungmin, who has just emerged from his room. Sungmin's face turns pink again, and he reverses direction so swiftly that he almost walks into the doorframe.
"...Oh," Shindong says, lamely. "About last night..." he starts to inform the vacant hallway, then stops, to contemplate the futility of it. It's alright, he wants to say. I wouldn't want to wake up next to me, either. If it's all a big joke, maybe it will sting less.
He takes a shower, instead.
On the way to a performance, later, he can feel Sungmin looking at him, but every time he turns around, the younger's gaze jerks guiltily out the window.
Everything is backwards and upside-down, and Shindong doesn't know how to right it.
It's dumb luck that he spots Sungmin headed out the door with his scooter helmet under one arm, after they get back to the apartments. Usually, he gets an invitation, but he isn't going to let Sungmin turn into a shadow around him, stupid mistakes or no.
Running down so many flights of stairs is no easy task, either. He's puffing by the time he reaches the garage, unable to shout, to stop Sungmin from swinging a leg over his scooter and pulling away. And when he looks back and spots him (bent over and panting for air), Shindong thinks that's exactly what he's going to do.
Sungmin stops, though, poised to climb onto the bike for a long, indecisive moment before he turns back, visor shading his face from view.
Trudging closer, Shindong raises his hands (see, I'm harmless) and swallows gasps of air until he can speak again. "Hey..." He still doesn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. Awkward, huh?" All he can see is Sungmin's mouth, thinned and unhappy. "Really... I never meant for anything like that to happen. You know how I just... take stuff off in my sleep." He rubs his forehead, wipes sweat away on the thigh of his jeans. "So... you don't have to worry about being jumped, or something." His chuckle falls flat. "We're friends, there's nothing weird about that."
"...and what if I like you?" Sungmin's voice is so soft, Shindong can't believe he heard that right.
"...What?"
"I... I like you. And because of that... I made you do something you wouldn't do if you were sober. I'm really sorry... some friend I am. I'm sorry." Sungmin bows deeply, arms stiff at his sides and fingers clenched as the words spill out. "...and I know it's inappropriate, and I know you're straight, and I know this probably freaks you out, but you're you and I like you and I really can't help it, no matter what you say--oh god, why am I still talking?"
Shindong is stunned to silence, as the younger boy straightens slowly back up, puffing air through his cheeks and giving his head a little shake. Sungmin turns to go, but he makes a grab for his wrist and holds tight. "W-wait..." His voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat. "What, exactly, was it that I wouldn't do sober...?"
Sungmin gives a helpless little laugh, tugging at his captive wrist without any real will behind it. "You don't want to know."
"I do want to know."
"We..." Sungmin hesitates, tongue wetting his lips nervously. "...I kissed you." He flinches, when Shindong reaches for the helmet, like he thinks he's going to get hit.
Shindong suspects a part of his brain may have had some kind of meltdown between the part shrieking 'not gay! not gay!' and the part bellowing 'do it before he bolts!', but he's already leaning in close, and it's too late to pull back now. Sungmin's lips are very soft, and it's not at all like kissing a girl, because girls don't smell like Sungmin or make that little surprised sound in their throats. That might be mostly because he doesn't go around kissing girls by surprise, though.
When he does pull back, he is pretty sure his expression must be almost as dumbfounded as Sungmin's, but they're both still breathing, and that's a plus. "...What was it, again, that I wouldn't do if I were sober?"
Sungmin looks at him through his lashes for a moment, then offers (in a tentatively hopeful tone of voice), "...We kissed a lot?"
"...Okay." Shindong shrugs, and leans back in to settle that.
...so I am ridiculously proud of myself for finally writing a ShinMin 8D