Thirteen: The Troublemakers I (Ocean's Eleven AU)
Title: The Troublemakers I (Background story of Thirteen Series)
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): ZiKyung
Summary: They've always been told
A/N: weLL HELLO AND no nothing has changed college apps still killing me more last minute exams more sobbing over block b bc match up season 2 is like jfsileajgaoifjdesa and yeAHFSLEI okay timeline-wise, im just saying that in oceans-verse everyone has the same birthdates as in real life. and this takes place in 2011, ubomb's Actors takes place in 2012, and the oceans main story is in 2018. more on timeline later if anyone wants to ask tho just give a shout and i'll answer oKIES hope you like it ;A;
Part 1 // Part 2
It’s been ten years since Jiho has last seen Park Kyung.
The last that Jiho remembers of him was a goodbye hug that seemed like it would never end as their mothers pulled them apart because Kyung’s family was moving to Australia for an indefinite amount of time for his father’s new job and his sister going to attend high school abroad. Jiho doesn’t remember Kyung all that well-remembers enough, and has heard enough from his parents and older brother that he and Kyung had been as close as children their age could be. But he doesn’t remember missing Kyung-doesn’t remember being sad that Kyung had to move because-well-Jiho was eight.
And now it’s ten years later, and while in any other circumstances, Jiho would jump at the chance to be able to catch up-would eagerly and brightly bring Kyung out for coffee maybe, sharing stories and how-have-you-been’s over noodles and kimchi-right now isn’t the greatest time for any of that, and this is all really just a big, encompassing cannot-do.
Not while he’s in the middle of a job.
And, thankfully, not while Kyung is in the middle of his job either-it looks like Kyung is in the middle of delivering a few packages up and down the office of Jiho’s mark-and Kyung is most likely doing this perhaps to get through the last of his higher schooling, or perhaps a side job for support, because Kyung has always been too brilliant to stay contained in anything but grand scale.
“You sure grew,” Kyung says, looking up at Jiho and grinning as he leans forward on his cart of mail and packages.
Jiho finds himself grinning back. “You sure didn’t.”
Kyung’s grin vanishes comically and Jiho laughs out loud-restrains himself quickly enough, however, before any of the staff walking around the lobby begins to stare. Jiho is supposed to be a novice employee come here to more-or-less take notes and learn from the master for a few days before leaving to embark on his actual job-he can’t come off as noticeable or particularly interesting.
“I’d ask if you had time to stay and talk-”
“You busy too?” Jiho says, and injects sympathy and disappointment into his voice. He holds up his cell phone and looks apologetic. “I’m running late for a meeting-fourth floor.”
Kyung smiles. “Same old, same old, then,” he says amicably. “I’m supposed to get all this up to the fifth floor, all sorted, in an hour.”
Jiho makes a face. “Tough.”
“Yeah, man,” Kyung laughs, and begins to pull the cart back towards the elevators. “See you when I see you.”
Jiho watches the other man walk off and makes sure Kyung is hidden from view behind the pillars that line the section of the lobby leading off to the west elevators. If Kyung is headed to the fifth floor, then Jiho should be able to make it to the sixth without anyone on the fifth halting the elevator and Kyung seeing him again. He spins around and rolls his eyes to himself in relief, letting out a breath-as nice as it’d momentarily been to see Kyung again, it’d probably be better for this job (and Jiho’s bank account), if he and Kyung didn’t bump into each other a second time.
Kyung sighs with relief, as he steers the cart into the elevator, and presses the button for the sixth floor. Thank God that Jiho’s meeting is on the fourth floor because even though Kyung would like to think that his cover is solid and there’s nothing suspicious about a staff member sorting mail and packages into different office rooms, he’d just feel safer all around if Jiho was safely ensconced in a boring conference two floors below Kyung’s target floor.
The elevator takes him swiftly and without any interruptions to the sixth floor. He allows himself a tiny smile, knowing that he picked a good day at this office-empty with everyone either busy in conferences or just absent in general. The doors open and Kyung pushes the cart out, humming a tune under his breath. He normally prefers to do jobs of his own accord rather than being contracted-and if he is contracted, it’s only as a personal favor or a collaboration with a friend. But if the pay is high and the job is easy, who’s he to say no?
He honestly didn’t even need to write literal plans down-simply had a quick look at the plans of the building, and went in thinking he’d do things on the fly because it was honestly that easy. There was no special security, and he hardly thought there would be anything about the firewalls worth writing home about. It’s to be quick and easy-hack in to the accounts and make sure some (a lot) of money is a little misguided on its supposed transfer to a sister company-and in a few days time, Kyung will be seeing the numbers of his own account increase pleasantly.
And with that Kyung manages to bring his spirits back up despite an old-childhood-friend-turned-possible-hindrance coming into the picture. He easily finds office room 314A and just as easily picks the lock open. As expected, as planned, Son Jaehyung is nowhere to be found (is at his scheduled, predicted, lunch meeting) and Kyung continues humming as he pushes the cart into the room and kicks the door to a soft close behind himself.
Son Jaehyung isn’t to be back for another few hours or so, as Kyung has reports that Jaehyung likes taking his time finishing with desert and the whole shebang even after the conference has finished. Which, for Kyung, means that he can take his time, parking the cart neatly by the door in case he needs a quick getaway or a distraction-he doesn’t need to rush as he leisurely unbuttons the uniform shirt he stole and brings out several of the milder programs he’s had Taeil source him to for easy hacking jobs like this one.
Honestly, he thinks that if he’d actually told Taeil about this job and about the details, the older man probably would’ve laughed himself into a seizure. It really isn’t the type of job Kyung thinks he’ll be telling his grandchildren about any time soon because it’s so easy it’s quite embarrassing.
He situates himself comfortably in Jaehyung’s expansive tall, plush leather chair and scoots in closer to the desk, turning on the desktop and inserting Taeil’s program the hard drive once it reaches the screen for the password. Kyung actually guesses that this would be an easy enough crack that he himself could do it without Taeil’s personal help or the program, but he doesn’t feel like putting in the extra effort today (it’s just one of those days-a little lazy, and Kyung wants ice cream).
Taeil’s program makes quick work of the passwords, the firewalls, all the measly anti-virus and theft shields. Kyung nearly falls asleep watching it perform its magic-he thinks he actually did doze off for a moment there-but then again, he supposes that it’s rather impossible to fall asleep completely when the door to an office reportedly expected to be empty and undisturbed for another three hours is suddenly opened.
A door that Kyung also knows he returned locked once he himself picked it (and he would’ve heard the turn of a card key had it been Jaehyung-he would have heard if it’d been someone else picking it because only Kyung can pick a lock in complete silence).
And he must say, that he’s rather shocked when he finds himself face to face with Woo Jiho.
A multitude of things run through Jiho’s mind in the split second that his eyes lock with Kyung’s across the office room, but all of those things instantly filter out and center on the obvious and important as Jiho closes the door shut behind him. He takes a few steps forward and is instantly rewarded with Kyung’s body visibly tensing and Kyung’s hand slipping discreetly across the desk, around the edge of the hard drive. Jiho knows he could spin a number of lies, and he knows that Kyung probably has an equal amount of lies ready, but he also knows that they both know there aren’t all too many reasons that a deliveryman would have to be behind a CEO’s computer.
But for that split second, that small moment when cats have both their tongues-minds whirring to think up of any possible, even slightly believable lies-Jiho finds himself brought back into flashes of the Park Kyung he last knew. He finds himself running through every mental database he can conjure up on the fly about Park Kyung (five-years-old and swinging together in the park, six-years-old and sharing rice crackers, seven-years-old and pushing each other into sandboxes, eight-years-old and waving goodbye because he thought that goodbye just meant until the next day not the next decade).
He isn’t sure what he’s looking for in his memories because it’s not like you can predict a child’s future as a con artist. Jiho at least is certain that he didn’t show any particular outward signs of eventually developing into a thief of, in his opinion, the highest caliber.
“You’re on a job,” Jiho decides are to be the icebreaking words.
Kyung tilts his head and Jiho barely manages to focus his attention in on how Kyung’s hand brushes the side of the computer discreetly-a slight of hand that has Jiho’s brain whirling with possibilities. “No,” Kyung corrects simply. “I finished a job.” He stands and Jiho tenses. Jiho can clearly see how Kyung’s hand is stiff against his side, and it’s an age old trick-a basic trick-to tuck in your thumb when you want to hold something without anyone knowing.
“You sure?” Jiho says casually, reaching behind himself and locking the door.
Then, Kyung smiles.
And in eleven years, Jiho would think-he would think that anyone would think-even the closest of childhood friends would be a little unrecognizable in some aspects if not all. He’d think that in a situation where both of them have fallen (risen) into occupations (for lack of a better term) utterly out of the convention that there would be even larger changes-that maybe Park Kyung’s signature smile (five-years-old and smiles when Jiho helps get Kyung’s swing started, six-years old and smiles when Jiho gives him the last rice cracker, seven-years-old and smiles when he throws sand at Jiho, eight-years-old and Jiho sees that smile for the last time) would be a little more grisly, a little more badass, a little more jaded.
It’s not.
It’s more of a grin right now, granted, but it’s awfully the same-identical-and if Jiho pretends everything else isn’t what it is, he can easily see Kyung wearing that same smile, grin, as he runs towards Jiho with an extra ice cream bar in hand. As it is, though, the infinitesimal difference that Jiho does detect after a moment of scrutinizing is that rather than boundless joy behind that smile, there’s plenty of adrenaline-plenty of thrill-and Jiho recognizes it easily because Kyung is grinning from the pure risk of it all. Jiho is willing to bet half of what is in his bank account right now (a hefty amount due in completion to his most recent marks) that Kyung is excited out of his mind because he’s just been caught-no less, by Jiho, someone who knows him personally, someone who could be a huge danger to him.
And the fact that that’s something that makes Kyung grin somehow makes Jiho grin back.
(because it is-it is thrilling and exciting and fun and Jiho knows that feeling so well-too well-and it’s been eleven years and somehow Kyung is here and-)
Kyung’s large eyes narrow slightly, and the grin bares a little more teeth. “This one,” he says, stepping around the desk, “is mine.”
But it ends abruptly-Jiho can literally hear the screeching of tires in his head as the magic suddenly seems to end all too soon because this is Jiho’s mark, Jiho’s con, Jiho’s job (Jiho’s money) and he hadn’t realized that Kyung could very well have the same target Jiho does and that’s just something that isn’t going to happen. Jiho stands stock still as Kyung walks right up to him and the last time they were this close, both of their heads were level with each other but now Jiho towers over Kyung-and yet, he doesn’t feel even a centimeter taller because Park Kyung with a grin that confident and wide and asserting can bring even a giant down to size.
(if Jiho’s heart is thudding a little because he’s looking right into Kyung’s endless eyes and a smile he thought he’d never see again and Kyung smells nothing short of delicious and there’s a bit of heady warmth between them, then no one needs to know)
Whatever has lodged itself in Jiho’s throat, however, never gets the chance to make a full on debut as Jiho only gets so far as to open his mouth before the screeching sounds of alarms and shouting fill the air (and there are voices in the hallway, running footsteps and doors slamming and oh-oh fuck-)
He and Kyung lock gazes for all of a split second before Kyung sprints to the window with Jiho following suit. They’re a far (far, far, far, very-very-very far) cry from the ground, but there’s a tiny ledge that leads off to a rooftop that leads off to a considerably-okay-maybe-sort-of-looking fire escape that hopefully leads off to somewhere that isn’t arrest-trial-conviction-jail. He sees Kyung tuck something into his pocket, most likely whatever he’d been holding that he didn’t want Jiho to see-whatever had been plugged into the computer-and then Kyung is wrenching the window open and staring down towards the dizzying roads of Seoul below.
Fists start banging from the other side of the door, with plenty of roars of Jaehyung-shii with the problem naturally being that neither of them are Son Jaehyung, and Jiho catches the hesitation in Kyung’s eyes (remembers six-and-a-half-years-old on the playground and the jungle gym was a little too high so Jiho jumps first and then helps Kyung down and, again, there’s that smile-too wide for Kyung’s face but too perfect for Jiho’s eyes anyway and-). Jiho pushes Kyung to the side, throwing his own long legs over the sill, takes a deep breath, and spins around as quickly as he can, catching the heels of his shoes against the cement and brick. He grapples for a moment with his feet and finally finds a dent that promises him enough stability to slowly drop himself down to the tiny ledge.
He sidles along the edge, plastering himself for dear life against the building because the only thing separating him now from plunging to his death are his sweaty hands gripping the barely-there cement sill. But Jiho makes quick work of the few feet of ledge and finally (thankfully-oh God-he’s a conman he’s not a stuntman he’s not a secret agent-oh, God) drops down to the roof of the next building.
And that leaves Kyung.
Kyung, who’s still several feet above Jiho, sitting on the windowsill with wide eyes and it’s not fear that’s stopping him and Jiho knows that. Jiho knows that Park Kyung has never been afraid of heights or falling-Kyung always just wants there to be someone below him, wants some kind of faultless reassurance that there will be someone to catch him whether he falls or not and eleven years later, Jiho has no idea who Park Kyung is or isn’t anymore but right now he knows what he needs to say so he says, looking up and cupping his hands around his mouth so the sound carries (before the doors are pried open and policemen and Son Jaehyung come storming in), “Don’t climb, Kyung-ah-jump-just-”
Jiho holds his arms open, meeting Kyung’s gaze-they both brace themselves, and Kyung slides off of the windowsill-falls through the air-and tumbles hard against Jiho’s body with enough force to knock Jiho flat onto his back against the hard cement of the rooftop. Breath is knocked out of both of them and Jiho manages just barely to wind his arms around Kyung to break the other man’s fall.
There’s no time to lie still and wince luxuriously through the pain (the scrapes and bruises from that kind of fall and force and the cement that really isn’t a nice, soft gym mat) because from the sounds above, whoever’s been trying to break down the door has broken through and the window is wide open for anyone to look down. Jiho is halfway to sitting up before Kyung suddenly shoves him until he rolls behind a large sort-of-walled-awning he hadn’t even seen and then crawls quickly next to Jiho.
The space is small and cramped and Jiho curls his legs up against his body to make room for Kyung. They’re both panting and trying not to pant-trying not to make any sounds although Jiho doubts the few feet between and across the roof of this building and the window of the other are distances small enough for sound to carry. But they can both hear the shouting coming from the office and it’s clear and loud enough that Jiho can deduct that whatever Kyung had put into that computer must’ve triggered a system that went through the entire building-a hold-all security breach.
He can’t help himself.
“Nice job,” he hisses irritably and they’re so close together that Kyung automatically flinches back when Jiho’s breath hits his face.
Kyung’s face is blank for all of a moment before it scrunches up in matching irritation. “It would’ve been,” he snaps back under his breath, “if you hadn’t fucked it up when you had because it was almost done loading but you made me pull it out early and that must’ve-”
“Then maybe you should’ve hacked into it yourself-customized the effort instead of-”
“My sources are fucking great,” Kyung cuts Jiho off with narrowed eyes and a tone sharp enough to slice diamond. “And I can do it myself if just fine but it’s faster and would have worked if you-”
“Don’t blame this on me that you suck balls at what I could’ve done better-now you messed up my-”
“It’s mine-”
“Except-I got hired to-”
“Kang Dae-”
And the name suddenly falters on Kyung’s lips when recognition flashes through Jiho’s eyes and their gazes lock (it clicks). Jiho feels his eyebrows furrow and Kyung swallows audibly-dryly. “Kang,” Jiho finishes slowly, “Daeho?”
“Scrawny, my height,” Kyung lists flatly, “scared off his little ass college kid? Scammed by Son Jaehyung for some designs and wants the money back?”
It starts to piece itself together in Jiho’s mind and he sighs, leaning his head against the dirty wall. “And he hired both of us in case one of us didn’t make it-or he thought two heads were better than one or he’s just a really paranoid shitty ass college kid and-oh my God-I’m going to wring his skinny, fucking neck-” But Jiho finds himself cutting off abruptly when he suddenly remembers who exactly brought him to this job and the problem with that is he can’t wring off that neck because that neck is protected and not skinny and the head of which that neck holds up could probably think of twenty different ways to cut Jiho’s neck before Jiho even gets his hands within five feet of that neck.
Out of curiosity, and with a strange inkling that the answer is going to be yes and fuck, Jiho blinks at Kyung and asks, “Do you know Kim Yukwon?”
“Yes,” Kyung blinks back. “Fuck,” he groans, closing his eyes.
Jiho giggles hysterically.
Somehow, they gather themselves into something resembling dignity and composition once the noise and danger has receded enough-and somehow, they manage to wander through the evening’s looming darkness, through the busy streets of Seoul (once they’d clambered down the fire escape) with Jiho still in a suit and Kyung still in a mailman’s uniform to where Kyung says is the hotel that Hwang Dongsun is currently staying at for a series of conferences near Yongsan. They’re going with Kyung’s last sighting of Yukwon because Jiho last saw Yukwon at least four days ago and that’d been at some random coffee shop in Hongdae. Kyung had apparently met with Yukwon just this morning for last minute details about the job.
The job that Yukwon had hooked both of them up to.
“What sucks,” Jiho says while they’re in the elevator on the way up to Yukwon’s room and floor (Dongsun is apparently at a business dinner, thank fuck, and Yukwon has apparently-according to the front desk-claimed sick in a terribly dramatic way, fainting in the lobby when Dongsun tried to drag him out in a tuxedo), “is that we can’t even punch him. We probably can’t even yell at him.”
“I mean,” Kyung shrugs, “we can-”
“Except we’d die,” Jiho mutters.
Once they arrive on the floor, Kyung leads the way to Dongsun and Yukwon’s suite and neither of them even think of knocking. Jiho stands to the side as he watches Kyung take out a wallet full of lock picks-organized and ready to go-and begins to work. Card slots are fairly easy, and the handle is slipping for them in seconds. Kyung pushes the door open and Jiho follows him in.
The suite is vast with multiple rooms just like a house-or a penthouse-and they barely get to catch the sound of tinkering metal and rustling plastic before it falls to an eerie silence and Kyung rolls his eyes at Jiho, who grins back as they make their way through the living room, past the adjoined kitchen, past the other sitting rooms and into the bedroom at the end of the short hallway.
It’s really a surprise to no one when they push open the door and find Yukwon sitting on the bed, most likely naked underneath the sheets spread haphazardly across his lap high enough and low enough to reveal plenty of bared skin. He sits crisscrossed with an open suitcase of everything that isn’t clothes (glue, superglue, wrenches, screwdrivers, broken pieces of hardware, wires, scissors) beside him on the mattress.
There’s a wide smile on his face, crinkling his eyes until they vanish, and, “Hi,” he breathes delightedly.
Jiho wants to punch Yukwon’s terribly, horribly attractive face.
(except he can’t-except no one can-because the moment he takes a step forward that even so much as whispers the intent to bodily harm, Jiho is more than absolutely certain that either that wrench or a screwdriver or one of those wires or a pair of scissors will be stuck into Jiho’s ribs before he has the chance to take his last breath)
“Can you at least,” Kyung sighs, “explain?”
Yukwon just smiles brighter, and reaches over to the nightstand for a large bottle of iced tea. “Anyone thirsty?”
Forty-seven minutes, a drawn-out explanation, and eight refills of iced tea later finds Jiho and Kyung across Yukwon on the edge of the vast king-sized bed. Jiho is idly twirling a copper wire in his fingers and Kyung is nursing the last of the iced tea straight from the enormous bottle. “In all honesty,” Yukwon admits, running a hand through tousled blond strands, “I didn’t think you two would know each other.”
“So you were hoping we’d duke it out and the last man standing would get the job done,” Jiho snorts, “because that sounds like a fucking fantastic alternative.”
“Actually,” Yukwon snorts back, “I thought that Kyung would get the job done and be out of the city before you even finished recon-and then if there were any accounts Kang needed transferred left, then you’d finish those.”
Kyung shrugs. “He does work slow,” he says, sparing Jiho a glance.
Jiho glowers. He eyes Yukwon. “So what now? We’re compromised thanks to Kyung’s little computer trick-”
“Oh my God-are you still-”
Yukwon suddenly gets up on his knees (and the blankets fall away and Jiho stares shamelessly and he notices that Kyung is staring rather shamelessly too because it’s Kim Yukwon-staring shamelessly is the only option) on the mattress and crawls irritably in between Kyung and Jiho, one hand on each man’s chest and shoving them back a few spaces. “Okay,” he says loudly, “so here’s my plan.”
Jiho is moments away from snapping that Yukwon gets no plan because he’s the one who commissioned two thieves for one job in the first place-except then he remembers that Yukwon is the scary, sexually-charged, attractive thief with the tools-easily-turned-weapons, likes to kill people while he’s in the nude, and has all the resources of Hwang Dongsun.
“My plan,” Yukwon says, sitting back on his haunches and regarding both of them with steely eyes hidden behind a pretty, feline smile, “is that you two redo recon together and then steal the files together and work an extra con into it for Jaehyung so you don’t have to split Kang’s payoff.”
“Extra work for us,” Kyung sums up with raised eyebrows, “and more money for you, then.”
But Yukwon just smiles and falls back against the pillows (still terribly naked). “C’mon,” he laughs. “I don’t know you two together, but I’ve known you two apart long enough-fucking troublemakers. It’ll be easy.”
With so many wrenches and screwdrivers and sharp-cut wires and scissors in Yukwon’s reach, it’s not like Kyung and Jiho can refuse.
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): ZiKyung
Summary: They've always been told
A/N: weLL HELLO AND no nothing has changed college apps still killing me more last minute exams more sobbing over block b bc match up season 2 is like jfsileajgaoifjdesa and yeAHFSLEI okay timeline-wise, im just saying that in oceans-verse everyone has the same birthdates as in real life. and this takes place in 2011, ubomb's Actors takes place in 2012, and the oceans main story is in 2018. more on timeline later if anyone wants to ask tho just give a shout and i'll answer oKIES hope you like it ;A;
Part 1 // Part 2
It’s been ten years since Jiho has last seen Park Kyung.
The last that Jiho remembers of him was a goodbye hug that seemed like it would never end as their mothers pulled them apart because Kyung’s family was moving to Australia for an indefinite amount of time for his father’s new job and his sister going to attend high school abroad. Jiho doesn’t remember Kyung all that well-remembers enough, and has heard enough from his parents and older brother that he and Kyung had been as close as children their age could be. But he doesn’t remember missing Kyung-doesn’t remember being sad that Kyung had to move because-well-Jiho was eight.
And now it’s ten years later, and while in any other circumstances, Jiho would jump at the chance to be able to catch up-would eagerly and brightly bring Kyung out for coffee maybe, sharing stories and how-have-you-been’s over noodles and kimchi-right now isn’t the greatest time for any of that, and this is all really just a big, encompassing cannot-do.
Not while he’s in the middle of a job.
And, thankfully, not while Kyung is in the middle of his job either-it looks like Kyung is in the middle of delivering a few packages up and down the office of Jiho’s mark-and Kyung is most likely doing this perhaps to get through the last of his higher schooling, or perhaps a side job for support, because Kyung has always been too brilliant to stay contained in anything but grand scale.
“You sure grew,” Kyung says, looking up at Jiho and grinning as he leans forward on his cart of mail and packages.
Jiho finds himself grinning back. “You sure didn’t.”
Kyung’s grin vanishes comically and Jiho laughs out loud-restrains himself quickly enough, however, before any of the staff walking around the lobby begins to stare. Jiho is supposed to be a novice employee come here to more-or-less take notes and learn from the master for a few days before leaving to embark on his actual job-he can’t come off as noticeable or particularly interesting.
“I’d ask if you had time to stay and talk-”
“You busy too?” Jiho says, and injects sympathy and disappointment into his voice. He holds up his cell phone and looks apologetic. “I’m running late for a meeting-fourth floor.”
Kyung smiles. “Same old, same old, then,” he says amicably. “I’m supposed to get all this up to the fifth floor, all sorted, in an hour.”
Jiho makes a face. “Tough.”
“Yeah, man,” Kyung laughs, and begins to pull the cart back towards the elevators. “See you when I see you.”
Jiho watches the other man walk off and makes sure Kyung is hidden from view behind the pillars that line the section of the lobby leading off to the west elevators. If Kyung is headed to the fifth floor, then Jiho should be able to make it to the sixth without anyone on the fifth halting the elevator and Kyung seeing him again. He spins around and rolls his eyes to himself in relief, letting out a breath-as nice as it’d momentarily been to see Kyung again, it’d probably be better for this job (and Jiho’s bank account), if he and Kyung didn’t bump into each other a second time.
Kyung sighs with relief, as he steers the cart into the elevator, and presses the button for the sixth floor. Thank God that Jiho’s meeting is on the fourth floor because even though Kyung would like to think that his cover is solid and there’s nothing suspicious about a staff member sorting mail and packages into different office rooms, he’d just feel safer all around if Jiho was safely ensconced in a boring conference two floors below Kyung’s target floor.
The elevator takes him swiftly and without any interruptions to the sixth floor. He allows himself a tiny smile, knowing that he picked a good day at this office-empty with everyone either busy in conferences or just absent in general. The doors open and Kyung pushes the cart out, humming a tune under his breath. He normally prefers to do jobs of his own accord rather than being contracted-and if he is contracted, it’s only as a personal favor or a collaboration with a friend. But if the pay is high and the job is easy, who’s he to say no?
He honestly didn’t even need to write literal plans down-simply had a quick look at the plans of the building, and went in thinking he’d do things on the fly because it was honestly that easy. There was no special security, and he hardly thought there would be anything about the firewalls worth writing home about. It’s to be quick and easy-hack in to the accounts and make sure some (a lot) of money is a little misguided on its supposed transfer to a sister company-and in a few days time, Kyung will be seeing the numbers of his own account increase pleasantly.
And with that Kyung manages to bring his spirits back up despite an old-childhood-friend-turned-possible-hindrance coming into the picture. He easily finds office room 314A and just as easily picks the lock open. As expected, as planned, Son Jaehyung is nowhere to be found (is at his scheduled, predicted, lunch meeting) and Kyung continues humming as he pushes the cart into the room and kicks the door to a soft close behind himself.
Son Jaehyung isn’t to be back for another few hours or so, as Kyung has reports that Jaehyung likes taking his time finishing with desert and the whole shebang even after the conference has finished. Which, for Kyung, means that he can take his time, parking the cart neatly by the door in case he needs a quick getaway or a distraction-he doesn’t need to rush as he leisurely unbuttons the uniform shirt he stole and brings out several of the milder programs he’s had Taeil source him to for easy hacking jobs like this one.
Honestly, he thinks that if he’d actually told Taeil about this job and about the details, the older man probably would’ve laughed himself into a seizure. It really isn’t the type of job Kyung thinks he’ll be telling his grandchildren about any time soon because it’s so easy it’s quite embarrassing.
He situates himself comfortably in Jaehyung’s expansive tall, plush leather chair and scoots in closer to the desk, turning on the desktop and inserting Taeil’s program the hard drive once it reaches the screen for the password. Kyung actually guesses that this would be an easy enough crack that he himself could do it without Taeil’s personal help or the program, but he doesn’t feel like putting in the extra effort today (it’s just one of those days-a little lazy, and Kyung wants ice cream).
Taeil’s program makes quick work of the passwords, the firewalls, all the measly anti-virus and theft shields. Kyung nearly falls asleep watching it perform its magic-he thinks he actually did doze off for a moment there-but then again, he supposes that it’s rather impossible to fall asleep completely when the door to an office reportedly expected to be empty and undisturbed for another three hours is suddenly opened.
A door that Kyung also knows he returned locked once he himself picked it (and he would’ve heard the turn of a card key had it been Jaehyung-he would have heard if it’d been someone else picking it because only Kyung can pick a lock in complete silence).
And he must say, that he’s rather shocked when he finds himself face to face with Woo Jiho.
A multitude of things run through Jiho’s mind in the split second that his eyes lock with Kyung’s across the office room, but all of those things instantly filter out and center on the obvious and important as Jiho closes the door shut behind him. He takes a few steps forward and is instantly rewarded with Kyung’s body visibly tensing and Kyung’s hand slipping discreetly across the desk, around the edge of the hard drive. Jiho knows he could spin a number of lies, and he knows that Kyung probably has an equal amount of lies ready, but he also knows that they both know there aren’t all too many reasons that a deliveryman would have to be behind a CEO’s computer.
But for that split second, that small moment when cats have both their tongues-minds whirring to think up of any possible, even slightly believable lies-Jiho finds himself brought back into flashes of the Park Kyung he last knew. He finds himself running through every mental database he can conjure up on the fly about Park Kyung (five-years-old and swinging together in the park, six-years-old and sharing rice crackers, seven-years-old and pushing each other into sandboxes, eight-years-old and waving goodbye because he thought that goodbye just meant until the next day not the next decade).
He isn’t sure what he’s looking for in his memories because it’s not like you can predict a child’s future as a con artist. Jiho at least is certain that he didn’t show any particular outward signs of eventually developing into a thief of, in his opinion, the highest caliber.
“You’re on a job,” Jiho decides are to be the icebreaking words.
Kyung tilts his head and Jiho barely manages to focus his attention in on how Kyung’s hand brushes the side of the computer discreetly-a slight of hand that has Jiho’s brain whirling with possibilities. “No,” Kyung corrects simply. “I finished a job.” He stands and Jiho tenses. Jiho can clearly see how Kyung’s hand is stiff against his side, and it’s an age old trick-a basic trick-to tuck in your thumb when you want to hold something without anyone knowing.
“You sure?” Jiho says casually, reaching behind himself and locking the door.
Then, Kyung smiles.
And in eleven years, Jiho would think-he would think that anyone would think-even the closest of childhood friends would be a little unrecognizable in some aspects if not all. He’d think that in a situation where both of them have fallen (risen) into occupations (for lack of a better term) utterly out of the convention that there would be even larger changes-that maybe Park Kyung’s signature smile (five-years-old and smiles when Jiho helps get Kyung’s swing started, six-years old and smiles when Jiho gives him the last rice cracker, seven-years-old and smiles when he throws sand at Jiho, eight-years-old and Jiho sees that smile for the last time) would be a little more grisly, a little more badass, a little more jaded.
It’s not.
It’s more of a grin right now, granted, but it’s awfully the same-identical-and if Jiho pretends everything else isn’t what it is, he can easily see Kyung wearing that same smile, grin, as he runs towards Jiho with an extra ice cream bar in hand. As it is, though, the infinitesimal difference that Jiho does detect after a moment of scrutinizing is that rather than boundless joy behind that smile, there’s plenty of adrenaline-plenty of thrill-and Jiho recognizes it easily because Kyung is grinning from the pure risk of it all. Jiho is willing to bet half of what is in his bank account right now (a hefty amount due in completion to his most recent marks) that Kyung is excited out of his mind because he’s just been caught-no less, by Jiho, someone who knows him personally, someone who could be a huge danger to him.
And the fact that that’s something that makes Kyung grin somehow makes Jiho grin back.
(because it is-it is thrilling and exciting and fun and Jiho knows that feeling so well-too well-and it’s been eleven years and somehow Kyung is here and-)
Kyung’s large eyes narrow slightly, and the grin bares a little more teeth. “This one,” he says, stepping around the desk, “is mine.”
But it ends abruptly-Jiho can literally hear the screeching of tires in his head as the magic suddenly seems to end all too soon because this is Jiho’s mark, Jiho’s con, Jiho’s job (Jiho’s money) and he hadn’t realized that Kyung could very well have the same target Jiho does and that’s just something that isn’t going to happen. Jiho stands stock still as Kyung walks right up to him and the last time they were this close, both of their heads were level with each other but now Jiho towers over Kyung-and yet, he doesn’t feel even a centimeter taller because Park Kyung with a grin that confident and wide and asserting can bring even a giant down to size.
(if Jiho’s heart is thudding a little because he’s looking right into Kyung’s endless eyes and a smile he thought he’d never see again and Kyung smells nothing short of delicious and there’s a bit of heady warmth between them, then no one needs to know)
Whatever has lodged itself in Jiho’s throat, however, never gets the chance to make a full on debut as Jiho only gets so far as to open his mouth before the screeching sounds of alarms and shouting fill the air (and there are voices in the hallway, running footsteps and doors slamming and oh-oh fuck-)
He and Kyung lock gazes for all of a split second before Kyung sprints to the window with Jiho following suit. They’re a far (far, far, far, very-very-very far) cry from the ground, but there’s a tiny ledge that leads off to a rooftop that leads off to a considerably-okay-maybe-sort-of-looking fire escape that hopefully leads off to somewhere that isn’t arrest-trial-conviction-jail. He sees Kyung tuck something into his pocket, most likely whatever he’d been holding that he didn’t want Jiho to see-whatever had been plugged into the computer-and then Kyung is wrenching the window open and staring down towards the dizzying roads of Seoul below.
Fists start banging from the other side of the door, with plenty of roars of Jaehyung-shii with the problem naturally being that neither of them are Son Jaehyung, and Jiho catches the hesitation in Kyung’s eyes (remembers six-and-a-half-years-old on the playground and the jungle gym was a little too high so Jiho jumps first and then helps Kyung down and, again, there’s that smile-too wide for Kyung’s face but too perfect for Jiho’s eyes anyway and-). Jiho pushes Kyung to the side, throwing his own long legs over the sill, takes a deep breath, and spins around as quickly as he can, catching the heels of his shoes against the cement and brick. He grapples for a moment with his feet and finally finds a dent that promises him enough stability to slowly drop himself down to the tiny ledge.
He sidles along the edge, plastering himself for dear life against the building because the only thing separating him now from plunging to his death are his sweaty hands gripping the barely-there cement sill. But Jiho makes quick work of the few feet of ledge and finally (thankfully-oh God-he’s a conman he’s not a stuntman he’s not a secret agent-oh, God) drops down to the roof of the next building.
And that leaves Kyung.
Kyung, who’s still several feet above Jiho, sitting on the windowsill with wide eyes and it’s not fear that’s stopping him and Jiho knows that. Jiho knows that Park Kyung has never been afraid of heights or falling-Kyung always just wants there to be someone below him, wants some kind of faultless reassurance that there will be someone to catch him whether he falls or not and eleven years later, Jiho has no idea who Park Kyung is or isn’t anymore but right now he knows what he needs to say so he says, looking up and cupping his hands around his mouth so the sound carries (before the doors are pried open and policemen and Son Jaehyung come storming in), “Don’t climb, Kyung-ah-jump-just-”
Jiho holds his arms open, meeting Kyung’s gaze-they both brace themselves, and Kyung slides off of the windowsill-falls through the air-and tumbles hard against Jiho’s body with enough force to knock Jiho flat onto his back against the hard cement of the rooftop. Breath is knocked out of both of them and Jiho manages just barely to wind his arms around Kyung to break the other man’s fall.
There’s no time to lie still and wince luxuriously through the pain (the scrapes and bruises from that kind of fall and force and the cement that really isn’t a nice, soft gym mat) because from the sounds above, whoever’s been trying to break down the door has broken through and the window is wide open for anyone to look down. Jiho is halfway to sitting up before Kyung suddenly shoves him until he rolls behind a large sort-of-walled-awning he hadn’t even seen and then crawls quickly next to Jiho.
The space is small and cramped and Jiho curls his legs up against his body to make room for Kyung. They’re both panting and trying not to pant-trying not to make any sounds although Jiho doubts the few feet between and across the roof of this building and the window of the other are distances small enough for sound to carry. But they can both hear the shouting coming from the office and it’s clear and loud enough that Jiho can deduct that whatever Kyung had put into that computer must’ve triggered a system that went through the entire building-a hold-all security breach.
He can’t help himself.
“Nice job,” he hisses irritably and they’re so close together that Kyung automatically flinches back when Jiho’s breath hits his face.
Kyung’s face is blank for all of a moment before it scrunches up in matching irritation. “It would’ve been,” he snaps back under his breath, “if you hadn’t fucked it up when you had because it was almost done loading but you made me pull it out early and that must’ve-”
“Then maybe you should’ve hacked into it yourself-customized the effort instead of-”
“My sources are fucking great,” Kyung cuts Jiho off with narrowed eyes and a tone sharp enough to slice diamond. “And I can do it myself if just fine but it’s faster and would have worked if you-”
“Don’t blame this on me that you suck balls at what I could’ve done better-now you messed up my-”
“It’s mine-”
“Except-I got hired to-”
“Kang Dae-”
And the name suddenly falters on Kyung’s lips when recognition flashes through Jiho’s eyes and their gazes lock (it clicks). Jiho feels his eyebrows furrow and Kyung swallows audibly-dryly. “Kang,” Jiho finishes slowly, “Daeho?”
“Scrawny, my height,” Kyung lists flatly, “scared off his little ass college kid? Scammed by Son Jaehyung for some designs and wants the money back?”
It starts to piece itself together in Jiho’s mind and he sighs, leaning his head against the dirty wall. “And he hired both of us in case one of us didn’t make it-or he thought two heads were better than one or he’s just a really paranoid shitty ass college kid and-oh my God-I’m going to wring his skinny, fucking neck-” But Jiho finds himself cutting off abruptly when he suddenly remembers who exactly brought him to this job and the problem with that is he can’t wring off that neck because that neck is protected and not skinny and the head of which that neck holds up could probably think of twenty different ways to cut Jiho’s neck before Jiho even gets his hands within five feet of that neck.
Out of curiosity, and with a strange inkling that the answer is going to be yes and fuck, Jiho blinks at Kyung and asks, “Do you know Kim Yukwon?”
“Yes,” Kyung blinks back. “Fuck,” he groans, closing his eyes.
Jiho giggles hysterically.
Somehow, they gather themselves into something resembling dignity and composition once the noise and danger has receded enough-and somehow, they manage to wander through the evening’s looming darkness, through the busy streets of Seoul (once they’d clambered down the fire escape) with Jiho still in a suit and Kyung still in a mailman’s uniform to where Kyung says is the hotel that Hwang Dongsun is currently staying at for a series of conferences near Yongsan. They’re going with Kyung’s last sighting of Yukwon because Jiho last saw Yukwon at least four days ago and that’d been at some random coffee shop in Hongdae. Kyung had apparently met with Yukwon just this morning for last minute details about the job.
The job that Yukwon had hooked both of them up to.
“What sucks,” Jiho says while they’re in the elevator on the way up to Yukwon’s room and floor (Dongsun is apparently at a business dinner, thank fuck, and Yukwon has apparently-according to the front desk-claimed sick in a terribly dramatic way, fainting in the lobby when Dongsun tried to drag him out in a tuxedo), “is that we can’t even punch him. We probably can’t even yell at him.”
“I mean,” Kyung shrugs, “we can-”
“Except we’d die,” Jiho mutters.
Once they arrive on the floor, Kyung leads the way to Dongsun and Yukwon’s suite and neither of them even think of knocking. Jiho stands to the side as he watches Kyung take out a wallet full of lock picks-organized and ready to go-and begins to work. Card slots are fairly easy, and the handle is slipping for them in seconds. Kyung pushes the door open and Jiho follows him in.
The suite is vast with multiple rooms just like a house-or a penthouse-and they barely get to catch the sound of tinkering metal and rustling plastic before it falls to an eerie silence and Kyung rolls his eyes at Jiho, who grins back as they make their way through the living room, past the adjoined kitchen, past the other sitting rooms and into the bedroom at the end of the short hallway.
It’s really a surprise to no one when they push open the door and find Yukwon sitting on the bed, most likely naked underneath the sheets spread haphazardly across his lap high enough and low enough to reveal plenty of bared skin. He sits crisscrossed with an open suitcase of everything that isn’t clothes (glue, superglue, wrenches, screwdrivers, broken pieces of hardware, wires, scissors) beside him on the mattress.
There’s a wide smile on his face, crinkling his eyes until they vanish, and, “Hi,” he breathes delightedly.
Jiho wants to punch Yukwon’s terribly, horribly attractive face.
(except he can’t-except no one can-because the moment he takes a step forward that even so much as whispers the intent to bodily harm, Jiho is more than absolutely certain that either that wrench or a screwdriver or one of those wires or a pair of scissors will be stuck into Jiho’s ribs before he has the chance to take his last breath)
“Can you at least,” Kyung sighs, “explain?”
Yukwon just smiles brighter, and reaches over to the nightstand for a large bottle of iced tea. “Anyone thirsty?”
Forty-seven minutes, a drawn-out explanation, and eight refills of iced tea later finds Jiho and Kyung across Yukwon on the edge of the vast king-sized bed. Jiho is idly twirling a copper wire in his fingers and Kyung is nursing the last of the iced tea straight from the enormous bottle. “In all honesty,” Yukwon admits, running a hand through tousled blond strands, “I didn’t think you two would know each other.”
“So you were hoping we’d duke it out and the last man standing would get the job done,” Jiho snorts, “because that sounds like a fucking fantastic alternative.”
“Actually,” Yukwon snorts back, “I thought that Kyung would get the job done and be out of the city before you even finished recon-and then if there were any accounts Kang needed transferred left, then you’d finish those.”
Kyung shrugs. “He does work slow,” he says, sparing Jiho a glance.
Jiho glowers. He eyes Yukwon. “So what now? We’re compromised thanks to Kyung’s little computer trick-”
“Oh my God-are you still-”
Yukwon suddenly gets up on his knees (and the blankets fall away and Jiho stares shamelessly and he notices that Kyung is staring rather shamelessly too because it’s Kim Yukwon-staring shamelessly is the only option) on the mattress and crawls irritably in between Kyung and Jiho, one hand on each man’s chest and shoving them back a few spaces. “Okay,” he says loudly, “so here’s my plan.”
Jiho is moments away from snapping that Yukwon gets no plan because he’s the one who commissioned two thieves for one job in the first place-except then he remembers that Yukwon is the scary, sexually-charged, attractive thief with the tools-easily-turned-weapons, likes to kill people while he’s in the nude, and has all the resources of Hwang Dongsun.
“My plan,” Yukwon says, sitting back on his haunches and regarding both of them with steely eyes hidden behind a pretty, feline smile, “is that you two redo recon together and then steal the files together and work an extra con into it for Jaehyung so you don’t have to split Kang’s payoff.”
“Extra work for us,” Kyung sums up with raised eyebrows, “and more money for you, then.”
But Yukwon just smiles and falls back against the pillows (still terribly naked). “C’mon,” he laughs. “I don’t know you two together, but I’ve known you two apart long enough-fucking troublemakers. It’ll be easy.”
With so many wrenches and screwdrivers and sharp-cut wires and scissors in Yukwon’s reach, it’s not like Kyung and Jiho can refuse.