EXO: We Forget To Watch
Title: We Forget To Watch
Members: Sehun, Tao, Suho
Rating: T
Warnings: maknaes in suits with guns ayyyyy
Author's Note: uhhhh i can never write anything serious ahaha stupid plot
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Zitao hears the soft brush of someone’s footsteps on the carpet behind him and stops rifling through the cabinet drawer. Without waiting for an order, he gets to his feet and places his hands on his head. The folded paper in his left hand creases loudly against his hair. He shuts the file cabinet with his foot before turning around.
He is in no way prepared for who is at the other end of the 9mm handgun silencer and barrel. And in a Hugo Boss suit, no less.
“Long time, no see,” Sehun says as he cocks the gun with a soft click and tilts his head to the side. A childish grin spreads on his face and he looks almost innocent enough to further Zitao’s disbelief.
Cautious, Zitao drops his hands to his side. He’s still clutching the paper in his damp left hand. It’s strange that’s he’s reacting right now, that his body is heating up and tensing with anxiety. In his line of work, reactions such as this are looked down upon. “Right,” Zitao says, already stumbling over the words he could have chosen in his head. Korean still comes hard for him, as it did back when he first traveled abroad from the mainland.
“I can’t let you leave.”
Zitao isn’t surprised when he hears the words. Of course Sehun wouldn’t allow him to leave, because that’s what happens when you’re running for someone else and you get caught. You don’t get to leave. Not alive, at least. Zitao raises a dark eyebrow in question.
“Not with that information,” Sehun says quickly. His grip shakes slightly, finger slipping from the trigger before he’s reaching an arm across his face, wiping his forehead with the back of his other hand. He’s sweating, not profusely, but more than Zitao is at the moment. It must either be his first major assignment, or his most anticipated.
Sehun is about to lower his weapon. Zitao can tell by the barely noticeable tremors of Sehun’s muscles under his suit. The tension rolling off of his shoulders is obvious as well, flowing down his body and locking his knees further as the time passes. Well, maybe only to the trained eye and Zitao has been doing this for years now so it’s plausible.
“Don’t,” Zitao tells him, keeping still and staying where he is as Sehun fights himself. “Don’t unarm yourself in front of me. Not in this room. Not while knowing what I’m capable of.”
The warning is delivered heavily and dark. Sehun can’t decide, doesn’t want to choose. “Why, Tao?” he asks, index finger slipping back into the trigger guard. Zitao wouldn’t hurt him, right? “You’ve known me forever. You wouldn’t hurt me.”
Zitao’s face dons a curious expression, lips curling up slyly as he stares at Sehun.
Now that the words are out of Sehun’s mouth, he isn’t so sure they’re true. He hasn’t seen Zitao in over a year now and a year is enough for a person to change. Hell, a day is enough for a person to change.
“Give me a reason why I wouldn’t hurt a sellout like you,” Zitao murmurs quietly, tucking his garnered prize of a paper into his pocket.
Sehun freezes, finger firmly set against the trigger and his palm slick against the grip of his gun. So that’s why Zitao disappeared from the city and off the face of the planet, because Sehun had ratted him out. Swiftly recovering, Sehun clenches his jaw and speaks carefully and slowly. “Who’s the traitor here? I was only following Suho’s orders.”
It’s not even a second before Zitao responds smoothly. “Ah, operating like a little machine. Following the command of someone who has never even been in the field. Unfazed by the requests these men in suits shoot at you. Nice suit, by the way. Who are you? James Bond?”
The amused look adorning his face is quite a difference from what Sehun is used to. Jobs are not supposed to be fun. “Handling” people isn’t supposed to be entertaining like the expression on Zitao’s face is giving off. Extraction and expulsion are not games.
Sehun glances down at Zitao’s choice of dress for the night. Also a suit.
“You don’t even know the real names of the men you work for, do you?” Zitao questions lightly. “It seems you’ve also left my name as well, right?” Zitao ignores that he’s used the wrong word, it doesn’t matter much right now in his current situation.
“I-I know your name. I wouldn’t forget,” Sehun pauses and takes a deep breath. “I wouldn’t forget that.” He has all but forgotten what he’s come here for. Zitao is retrieving something and he was sent to stop him, but everything he’s built up in his head, all of the things he’s wanted to say...he can’t remember a damn thing.
Zitao’s playful grin fades quickly as Sehun takes a step closer to him, the younger man’s muscles tensing slightly with the weight of his arm. “Don’t. I know what you’re trying to do,” Zitao tells Sehun, not moving a muscle. “Don’t come any closer. Don’t lower your weapon.”
The look in Sehun’s eyes is different. He’s…what’s the word? He’s distressed? Zitao can’t even think of the proper term to describe Sehun right now.
“Just shoot me and reclaim the information already.”
Sehun falters. His hands are clammy again. “Are you…” he pauses and clears his throat, “Are you sure you want me to do that? To kill you, I mean.”
“What do you think?” Zitao asks, eyes dark and locked onto Sehun’s.
“I know what you’re doing to me. I can either let you get away with those papers,” he glances over his shoulder at the door before looking back to Zitao, “or I can…I can-”
It’s a catch-22, Sehun realizes a little belatedly. He can’t kill Zitao, could never even attempt it.
“Say it,” Zitao instructs, “you can let me get away or you can what?”
Sehun hardens his stare, brows furrowing. Tao wouldn’t really hurt him. He couldn’t, even if he truly wanted to. He’s never hurt anyone, never had the need to do so, Sehun remembers. Every mission that Tao had back when he was with the Exodus Corporation was strictly without contact between the agent and the mark.
Time ticks by slowly before Sehun makes his decision. He clicks the safety back on his handgun and throws it to the carpeted floor, dropping his hands down to his side. “Go,” he murmurs, eyes to the floor.
Zitao grins curtly, shortly, before he resumes his passive face of stone and steps forward confidently. When he passes Sehun, his shoulder just barely brushes against the other’s before he’s reaching the door and sweeping out, shutting it behind him.
Sehun waits for two minutes before retrieving his weapon and calling Headquarters to report his mission failure to Suho.
Members: Sehun, Tao, Suho
Rating: T
Warnings: maknaes in suits with guns ayyyyy
Author's Note: uhhhh i can never write anything serious ahaha stupid plot
-
Zitao hears the soft brush of someone’s footsteps on the carpet behind him and stops rifling through the cabinet drawer. Without waiting for an order, he gets to his feet and places his hands on his head. The folded paper in his left hand creases loudly against his hair. He shuts the file cabinet with his foot before turning around.
He is in no way prepared for who is at the other end of the 9mm handgun silencer and barrel. And in a Hugo Boss suit, no less.
“Long time, no see,” Sehun says as he cocks the gun with a soft click and tilts his head to the side. A childish grin spreads on his face and he looks almost innocent enough to further Zitao’s disbelief.
Cautious, Zitao drops his hands to his side. He’s still clutching the paper in his damp left hand. It’s strange that’s he’s reacting right now, that his body is heating up and tensing with anxiety. In his line of work, reactions such as this are looked down upon. “Right,” Zitao says, already stumbling over the words he could have chosen in his head. Korean still comes hard for him, as it did back when he first traveled abroad from the mainland.
“I can’t let you leave.”
Zitao isn’t surprised when he hears the words. Of course Sehun wouldn’t allow him to leave, because that’s what happens when you’re running for someone else and you get caught. You don’t get to leave. Not alive, at least. Zitao raises a dark eyebrow in question.
“Not with that information,” Sehun says quickly. His grip shakes slightly, finger slipping from the trigger before he’s reaching an arm across his face, wiping his forehead with the back of his other hand. He’s sweating, not profusely, but more than Zitao is at the moment. It must either be his first major assignment, or his most anticipated.
Sehun is about to lower his weapon. Zitao can tell by the barely noticeable tremors of Sehun’s muscles under his suit. The tension rolling off of his shoulders is obvious as well, flowing down his body and locking his knees further as the time passes. Well, maybe only to the trained eye and Zitao has been doing this for years now so it’s plausible.
“Don’t,” Zitao tells him, keeping still and staying where he is as Sehun fights himself. “Don’t unarm yourself in front of me. Not in this room. Not while knowing what I’m capable of.”
The warning is delivered heavily and dark. Sehun can’t decide, doesn’t want to choose. “Why, Tao?” he asks, index finger slipping back into the trigger guard. Zitao wouldn’t hurt him, right? “You’ve known me forever. You wouldn’t hurt me.”
Zitao’s face dons a curious expression, lips curling up slyly as he stares at Sehun.
Now that the words are out of Sehun’s mouth, he isn’t so sure they’re true. He hasn’t seen Zitao in over a year now and a year is enough for a person to change. Hell, a day is enough for a person to change.
“Give me a reason why I wouldn’t hurt a sellout like you,” Zitao murmurs quietly, tucking his garnered prize of a paper into his pocket.
Sehun freezes, finger firmly set against the trigger and his palm slick against the grip of his gun. So that’s why Zitao disappeared from the city and off the face of the planet, because Sehun had ratted him out. Swiftly recovering, Sehun clenches his jaw and speaks carefully and slowly. “Who’s the traitor here? I was only following Suho’s orders.”
It’s not even a second before Zitao responds smoothly. “Ah, operating like a little machine. Following the command of someone who has never even been in the field. Unfazed by the requests these men in suits shoot at you. Nice suit, by the way. Who are you? James Bond?”
The amused look adorning his face is quite a difference from what Sehun is used to. Jobs are not supposed to be fun. “Handling” people isn’t supposed to be entertaining like the expression on Zitao’s face is giving off. Extraction and expulsion are not games.
Sehun glances down at Zitao’s choice of dress for the night. Also a suit.
“You don’t even know the real names of the men you work for, do you?” Zitao questions lightly. “It seems you’ve also left my name as well, right?” Zitao ignores that he’s used the wrong word, it doesn’t matter much right now in his current situation.
“I-I know your name. I wouldn’t forget,” Sehun pauses and takes a deep breath. “I wouldn’t forget that.” He has all but forgotten what he’s come here for. Zitao is retrieving something and he was sent to stop him, but everything he’s built up in his head, all of the things he’s wanted to say...he can’t remember a damn thing.
Zitao’s playful grin fades quickly as Sehun takes a step closer to him, the younger man’s muscles tensing slightly with the weight of his arm. “Don’t. I know what you’re trying to do,” Zitao tells Sehun, not moving a muscle. “Don’t come any closer. Don’t lower your weapon.”
The look in Sehun’s eyes is different. He’s…what’s the word? He’s distressed? Zitao can’t even think of the proper term to describe Sehun right now.
“Just shoot me and reclaim the information already.”
Sehun falters. His hands are clammy again. “Are you…” he pauses and clears his throat, “Are you sure you want me to do that? To kill you, I mean.”
“What do you think?” Zitao asks, eyes dark and locked onto Sehun’s.
“I know what you’re doing to me. I can either let you get away with those papers,” he glances over his shoulder at the door before looking back to Zitao, “or I can…I can-”
It’s a catch-22, Sehun realizes a little belatedly. He can’t kill Zitao, could never even attempt it.
“Say it,” Zitao instructs, “you can let me get away or you can what?”
Sehun hardens his stare, brows furrowing. Tao wouldn’t really hurt him. He couldn’t, even if he truly wanted to. He’s never hurt anyone, never had the need to do so, Sehun remembers. Every mission that Tao had back when he was with the Exodus Corporation was strictly without contact between the agent and the mark.
Time ticks by slowly before Sehun makes his decision. He clicks the safety back on his handgun and throws it to the carpeted floor, dropping his hands down to his side. “Go,” he murmurs, eyes to the floor.
Zitao grins curtly, shortly, before he resumes his passive face of stone and steps forward confidently. When he passes Sehun, his shoulder just barely brushes against the other’s before he’s reaching the door and sweeping out, shutting it behind him.
Sehun waits for two minutes before retrieving his weapon and calling Headquarters to report his mission failure to Suho.