hc_bingo fic: lacerations/knife wounds
Title: Slippery When Wet
Fandom: DBSK
Pairing: none
Prompt: Lacerations/Knife Wounds
Rating: PG
Word Count: 731
Summary: After some dish-washing gone awry, Yoochun learns valuable lessons about love, friendship, and knife-juggling.
AN: Written, as the subject and tag say, for hc_bingo. Masterpost with game card is here.
If he survived this, Yoochun silently vowed, he would never offer to help with the dishes ever again. Not ever.
He sat on one of the kitchen chairs, hand wrapped in a towel and tucked in against his chest while he waited for Yunho to finish frantically calling for one of their managers to come get him. Maybe getting into a bubble fight while washing one of Jaejoong’s insanely sharp kitchen knives hadn’t been the best idea. That was totally Junsu’s fault, and he could hear Jaejoong yelling at him about it in the bedroom. He felt kind of bad, but at least no one was yelling at him yet? Someone was going to eventually, though, and he wasn’t in any hurry to get there.
“Here, hyung, let me see?” Changmin had ‘volunteered’ to stay with him and make sure he didn’t go into shock, but really, the other three were all too busy yelling or getting yelled at, so it was kind of inevitable.
He tucked his hand even tighter against his chest in automatic denial, but Changmin was the one who read health magazines for fun when they were stuck in airport lounges for hours. He begrudgingly held out his hand. Changmin didn’t even bother unwrapping it. He just took one look at the blood seeping through and grabbed another towel, wrapping it around Yoochun’s hand and up his wrist. “Hopefully it won’t need more than a few stitches. You can still move your fingers right?”
If Changmin was trying to make him feel better, that was exactly the wrong way to do it. Yoochun whimpered at the sudden thought of not being able to move his fingers ever again, which would mean never playing the piano again, which would probably mean no composing or being in DBSK or-
His fingers wiggled. Painfully and slowly. But they did. He breathed a sigh of relief that kind of wanted to be a sob, except no, his crybaby persona was only supposed to come out on stage and there were no fans in sight. Only Changmin, who was looking at him with a mixture of apology and worry. “Sorry, hyung.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. This’ll be fine and I’ll just get some bandages and painkillers and be right back here in a few hours, right?”
Changmin couldn’t answer before Jaejoong came stomping in, Junsu in tow. Junsu looked so pathetic that Yoochun immediately lost any ability to blame him for anything ever again. He looked worse than Yoochun felt. Changmin wisely slid out of his chair, ‘accidentally’ nudging Junsu toward his vacant seat as he passed him, muttering some excuse about going to check on Yunho and snagging Jaejoong on his way out of the kitchen.
Jaejoong’s loud protests cut off a little too quickly once the two were out of sight. Yoochun chuckled. “I think we were set up.”
If anything, Junsu only went paler. “I’m really sorry. I never thought anything bad would happen and I promise to never do anything stupid ever again.”
Was that supposed to sound like actual words? It took Yoochun a second to decipher, then he frowned at Junsu, which only made him curl into a tiny ball on the chair. Nothing was sadder than a Junsu!ball. “You are stupid.” The Junsu!ball flinched. “Why would I be mad at you for something that’s just as much my fault?” Ignoring the fact that he kind of had been a few minutes ago, but that had been before Junsu had looked all pathetic and sad and turned into a ball.
Junsu glanced up. “Really?”
He nudged Junsu’s shoulder with his good hand. “Yes, really. Can’t you hear?”
The implied insult had the desired affect and Junsu puffed himself up, all traces of ball-ishness gone. “Yah! I can, too!”
As if sensing the impending fight that would undoubtedly cause yet more destruction, Yunho poked his head around the doorway. “Yoochun-ah, Manager-hyung’s here to take you to the hospital. Let’s go.”
Junsu’s face fell again, instantly transformed from indignation to worry. Yoochun nudged him again, harder, as he stood up to follow Yunho. “Your face is gonna freeze like that. They’ll fix my hand, but they can’t fix ugly. Then again, maybe it’s already too late.”
He dodged out of the kitchen, Junsu yelling dire threats at him all the way out the door.
Fandom: DBSK
Pairing: none
Prompt: Lacerations/Knife Wounds
Rating: PG
Word Count: 731
Summary: After some dish-washing gone awry, Yoochun learns valuable lessons about love, friendship, and knife-juggling.
AN: Written, as the subject and tag say, for hc_bingo. Masterpost with game card is here.
If he survived this, Yoochun silently vowed, he would never offer to help with the dishes ever again. Not ever.
He sat on one of the kitchen chairs, hand wrapped in a towel and tucked in against his chest while he waited for Yunho to finish frantically calling for one of their managers to come get him. Maybe getting into a bubble fight while washing one of Jaejoong’s insanely sharp kitchen knives hadn’t been the best idea. That was totally Junsu’s fault, and he could hear Jaejoong yelling at him about it in the bedroom. He felt kind of bad, but at least no one was yelling at him yet? Someone was going to eventually, though, and he wasn’t in any hurry to get there.
“Here, hyung, let me see?” Changmin had ‘volunteered’ to stay with him and make sure he didn’t go into shock, but really, the other three were all too busy yelling or getting yelled at, so it was kind of inevitable.
He tucked his hand even tighter against his chest in automatic denial, but Changmin was the one who read health magazines for fun when they were stuck in airport lounges for hours. He begrudgingly held out his hand. Changmin didn’t even bother unwrapping it. He just took one look at the blood seeping through and grabbed another towel, wrapping it around Yoochun’s hand and up his wrist. “Hopefully it won’t need more than a few stitches. You can still move your fingers right?”
If Changmin was trying to make him feel better, that was exactly the wrong way to do it. Yoochun whimpered at the sudden thought of not being able to move his fingers ever again, which would mean never playing the piano again, which would probably mean no composing or being in DBSK or-
His fingers wiggled. Painfully and slowly. But they did. He breathed a sigh of relief that kind of wanted to be a sob, except no, his crybaby persona was only supposed to come out on stage and there were no fans in sight. Only Changmin, who was looking at him with a mixture of apology and worry. “Sorry, hyung.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. This’ll be fine and I’ll just get some bandages and painkillers and be right back here in a few hours, right?”
Changmin couldn’t answer before Jaejoong came stomping in, Junsu in tow. Junsu looked so pathetic that Yoochun immediately lost any ability to blame him for anything ever again. He looked worse than Yoochun felt. Changmin wisely slid out of his chair, ‘accidentally’ nudging Junsu toward his vacant seat as he passed him, muttering some excuse about going to check on Yunho and snagging Jaejoong on his way out of the kitchen.
Jaejoong’s loud protests cut off a little too quickly once the two were out of sight. Yoochun chuckled. “I think we were set up.”
If anything, Junsu only went paler. “I’m really sorry. I never thought anything bad would happen and I promise to never do anything stupid ever again.”
Was that supposed to sound like actual words? It took Yoochun a second to decipher, then he frowned at Junsu, which only made him curl into a tiny ball on the chair. Nothing was sadder than a Junsu!ball. “You are stupid.” The Junsu!ball flinched. “Why would I be mad at you for something that’s just as much my fault?” Ignoring the fact that he kind of had been a few minutes ago, but that had been before Junsu had looked all pathetic and sad and turned into a ball.
Junsu glanced up. “Really?”
He nudged Junsu’s shoulder with his good hand. “Yes, really. Can’t you hear?”
The implied insult had the desired affect and Junsu puffed himself up, all traces of ball-ishness gone. “Yah! I can, too!”
As if sensing the impending fight that would undoubtedly cause yet more destruction, Yunho poked his head around the doorway. “Yoochun-ah, Manager-hyung’s here to take you to the hospital. Let’s go.”
Junsu’s face fell again, instantly transformed from indignation to worry. Yoochun nudged him again, harder, as he stood up to follow Yunho. “Your face is gonna freeze like that. They’ll fix my hand, but they can’t fix ugly. Then again, maybe it’s already too late.”
He dodged out of the kitchen, Junsu yelling dire threats at him all the way out the door.