[fic] Under the Mattress
//Pairing//: L x Sungyeol
//Prompt//: Under the mattress + additional inspiration: {✘}
//Rating//: PG
//Summary//: In which Sungyeol is an architect, and L is a skeptic.
//Word Count//: 1,225
//Author's Note//: For confettistars. I felt guilty for taking so long with the other one, so I bumped you up! ^^♥ Beta-ed by my lovely epik_sense! ^^
Sometimes, L thinks Sungyeol must be a bit special. At least, he thinks that sometimes, in response to what the other boy says, or from the way he reacts. Especially when he coos like a pigeon in L's ear for no particular reason (L has never had more vivid pigeon dreams in his life - who dreams about pigeons anyway?), or hides behind the shower curtain in their shoebox of a bathroom to scare the other members (L knows those are a few brain cells he will never see again - he still checks thoroughly before getting into the shower area - twice). To say the least, sometimes he thinks the one who ranks one step up from him on the age ladder may have a mental age of, oh, say, negative twelve.
This is coming from a person like L, who occasionally has the carriage and bearing of someone who is wise beyond his years (or just quiet and kind of creepy, Sungyeol will murmur, with an affectionate nudge against his shoulder, before humming the Death Note theme song with a chuckle - and hand actions), so he doesn't see it as anything out of the ordinary when he returns from dance practice one day and feels slightly irritated to see a fort constructed entirely with the couch cushions and various other bits of soft furnishings, sprawled with reckless abandon over the living room floor.
“It's a fort!” Sungyeol's slightly muffled voice rings out on cue, before L even has the time to formulate a proper question. One lanky arm is extended from behind a teepee-like construct (blankets draped over a couple of chairs arranged back-to-back, some distance apart), followed by a wave and the on-off, on-off of a flashlight from within. “It's Morse code for 'hi', backwards!” Sungyeol rattles on, finally emerging from his hiding place with a grin before clambering onto a rather threadbare ottoman, all lines and angles as he sits cross-legged on the squat seat. “I didn't want our messages to get intercepted,” He says in a conspiratorial fashion, which only earns him a look of infinite wonderment from his bandmate.
“By who?” L should really know better than to ask questions like that, because Sungyeol's mind works in strange and mysterious ways. Mostly strange, L amends his thought process with a mental note to himself.
“Whom,” Sungyeol says quickly, raising his index finger to correct L's grammar in one of his moments of latent genius, still sitting cross-legged on the ottoman. “And I don't know, someone. You never know who might be watching,” He laughs, an infectious laugh, and beckons to L from across the slightly mad jumble of cushions, pillows, and the like. “Come over here already! It's fun, you'll see! Bbali!”
L just shakes his head - Sungyeol's enthusiasm is undeniable, and he can't help but feel some of his previous irritation dissipate with the other boy's amiable request. “Ya, what made you decide... this, anyway?” He asks this of Sungyeol as he picks his way across the organized mess, mindful not to topple any of the upended chairs and - is that the mattress? L only now notices that the mattress from one of their beds (Sungjong's, from the looks of it - the repeated patterns of toy sailboats are a dead giveaway) has been propped up to form some kind of makeshift retaining wall in the corner of the living room.
“Of course! Don't you think I did a pretty good job?” Sungyeol's proud voice rings in his ears again, and L realizes that he must have said that out loud. He purses his lips and points towards the offending structure (if he can even call it that), his expression nothing short of skeptical. “Why did you even--”
“Just sit down,” Sungyeol says, having found his way through the soft jumble of debris by now with arms akimbo as he stands (very nearly head and shoulders above, mind you) beside L, who, very reluctantly, does as he is told. He reckons that by sitting down he will run a lesser risk of dismantling something, because at this point, everything looks like the slightest push will dislodge something. He almost leans against the relatively solid mattress, but stops himself from doing so, and in any case, Sungyeol's long fingers grab his forearm to coax him into desisting.
“Hoya did that just now, and the daikon plushie came tumbling down on him,” Sungyeol's regular smile and easy manner is evident as he briefly relates the incident, all the while pointing up at said daikon plushie which is now sitting pretty again, perched atop the mattress in a haphazard way that suggests Hoya paid dearly for this misstep. “Everyone's had a go at the fort, besides you,” There is a hurt edge to Sungyeol's voice, like he is being reproachful for L not being at home all day, but this is quickly replaced once again by his boundless enthusiasm. “I've got the fort plan all figured out - there's a tunnel over there - Nam Passage - that I've named after Woohyun hyung, and that over there? I've called it Dongwoo Street...” Sungyeol jib-jabbers away, while L listens, just listens. He sits there, one hand cupping his cheek as he looks up at his bandmate's lanky figure, currently gesticulating as he relates a story about how Sunggyu hyung wanted to ... something, or - L doesn't get to hear the end of it, because with a careless sweep of his hand, Sungyeol manages to send the mattress flopping down on the both of them with a rather depressing “whomp-whomp” sound.
For L, it's almost like his world comes crashing down around his ears, in a way that he's never quite imagined possible.
Sungyeol, you are quite special.
L comes to this conclusion as he stares back at Sungyeol underneath the relatively small pocket of space that separates them. The shock of the mattress falling (the toy sailboats look like they're dancing, from the corner of his eye) makes spots appear before his eyes, but enough light filters through the gaps for him to see the smile on Sungyeol's face - a smile that somehow makes everything, no matter how dire, seem okay again.
“We push on the count of three, okay? One, two...” With a laugh and a chuckle, Sungyeol pushes at the mattress with both hands and feet, letting the living room light flood in again. With a heave, he manages to push the mattress back into place, even reaching up to replace the daikon plushie in its original position (it is clear he has no intention of dismantling the fort, not even for bedtime).
L only pushes with one hand - his attention (just like his irritation) is otherwise dissipated.
Once everything is all over, Sungyeol laughs, and pats the mattress into place, smoothing the printed toy sailboats out with long, slender fingers. He turns to L, hair slightly tousled, cheeks slightly pink with the effort of mattress-hoisting. He jerks a thumb in the general direction of the living room, and smirks at L. “Let's go get some sleep in Nam Passage tonight? It's big enough for two.”
Yes, without a doubt, Sungyeol is quite special, quite special indeed.