[fic] Beat The Meat
Title: Beat The Meat
Prompt: Mythology
Pairing(s): Kris / Suho
Summary: Tao invites Yifan and Joonmyun for a very special dinner
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,358
Yifan checks the address scrawled on a piece of paper and matches it to the dilapidated mansion in front of them. He nods at Joonmyun, whose lips are pressed into a thin line.
“Double-check just to make sure,” Joonmyun says. “There’s no way anybody would want to live here. I mean-“
“It’s right. I checked already,” Yifan cuts him off and pounds on the front door.
The front door is filthy, covered with a thin layer of grime. It leaves Yifan’s giant yaoi hand soiled, so he wipes the gunk on his nice dress pants until he realizes what he’s done.
Joonmyun gives him with a stern you’re-an-idiot-why-do-i-even-put-up-with-you look before pressing the doorbell.
After a few moments, the door creaks open and there’s Zitao, dressed in a three-piece suit with polished shoes and slicked back hair. There’s a thin scar that extends from the left corner of his mouth, which makes his smile look lopsided.
“Yifan, Joonmyun, I’m so glad you came!” Zitao says, ushering them inside.
It’s a sunny day, and when they step into the mansion, they’re engulfed in darkness. It takes Yifan a while to adjust to the dim light coming from a chandelier covered in cobwebs.
Joonmyun smiles back and says, albeit tightly, “We’re flattered that you invited us over for dinner. I baked a cake for dessert.”
Zitao’s grin widens as he takes the offering. “So kind of you! Let me take this off of your hands.”
“It’s chocolate,” Joonmyun adds.
“Excellent,” Zitao says, almost purring. “Dinner is going to be splendid.”
Joonmyun and Yifan follow Zitao as he leads them down the foyer into a large room with high ceilings. There’s a wheezing grandfather clock and a few Victorian couches with sagging cushions. But the most prominent feature of the room is the full-body portrait of Zitao above the dusty fireplace. In it, he’s wearing some sort of uniform, and his eyes seem to follow you wherever you go. Yifan can’t help but stare at it, and when Zitao appears right beside him, he jumps in surprise.
“I had that portrait done a few years ago. What do you think about it?” Zitao asks.
“It captures your likeness,” Yifan says.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Zitao says and then pastes on another lopsided smile. “Excuse me while I go put this cake in the kitchen. Please make yourselves feel at home.”
A spider skitters across the floor and hides somewhere underneath one of the couches.
Home, right.
“Could you please tell me where the bathroom is? I’d like to freshen up before dinner,” Joonmyun says, ignoring the pleading look in Yifan’s eyes that beg him not to leave him.
“Yes, of course. It’s on the way to the kitchen, so just follow me,” Zitao says.
They both walk out of the room, leaving Yifan alone with the giant portrait of Zitao. It looks back at him.
A shiver crawls its way across Yifan’s neck. He clenches and unclenches his fists as he breaks into a cold sweat. The portrait seems to be laughing at his obvious discomfort.
"You don't scare me," Yifan tells the painting. "You're just a painting. And Zitao's just Zitao."
Just last week, Zitao was playing Temple Run-even though nobody plays Temple Run anymore-instead of reviewing the spreadsheets for their biweekly sales report meetings. (His official position is assistant project manager, but Zitao’s actually the office’s mascot because he doesn’t do any real work and is just there to look good.)
But this Zitao right now, Yifan doesn’t recognize him at all.
Yifan has no idea why Zitao suddenly has a haunted mansion and a creepy-as-balls portrait and a scar that makes him look like the evil stepdad in “Pan’s Labyrinth.” He must be going through a rebellious emo phase, Yifan deduces. Everyone goes through one. Even Yifan.
(When he was in middle school, Yifan would color his nails black with Sharpie and take “7 Minutes in Heaven with HOT CUTE SEXY Emo Boyz <3 <3 !!” online quizzes. But we don’t talk about that.)
“Dinner is ready,” Zitao says.
Startled, Yifan turns around to see him waiting by the doorway.
“Where’s Joonmyun?” Yifan asks.
“He’ll be joining us shortly.”
Yifan follows Zitao to the dining room, which includes a long table filled with a bountiful harvest of food-except all the food is rotten and covered in cobwebs. When Zitao takes a seat at the head of the table, he motions for Yifan to take the seat next to him.
When Zitao rings a small bell, a servant rushes in with two plates filled with steaks, plops them down in front of Zitao and Yifan, bows, and scurries away.
Yifan squints in the direction the servant disappeared.
“Was that-”
“Sehun?” Zitao says. “Yes. He owes me a favor.”
Yifan doesn’t know what to say about Sehun, the office’s secretary-turned-servant, so he nods as if he knows what Zitao’s talking about. “Sure.”
“Please, eat.”
“What about Joonmyun?” Yifan says.
Zitao glares at him, his eyes narrowing and his scar grotesquely contorting his face.
“Eat.”
Yifan cuts off a piece of his steak and takes a bite. He tries not to notice how Zitao scrutinizes him while he’s chewing.
“So,” Zitao says, “how does it taste?”
Despite the awkward situation, the steak’s seasoning is brilliant because the minty thyme soothes the kick of the paprika. It's a perfect marriage of ingredients, and Yifan can't help help but groan in appreciation.
“This is really good!” Yifan says, cutting up more of the steak. He chews his next bite with more fervor. “I haven’t had a cut of beef this tender in a long time.
Zitao picks up his steak knife and carves away at the meat. He chuckles. “Oh, it isn’t beef.”
“Oh, is it some sort of vegan-style meat substitute?” Yifan asks.
Maybe Zitao is going through a vegan phase as well as an emo phase. Yifan tried vegan cupcakes once, and they weren’t too bad.
“It’s Joonmyun,” Zitao says.
Yifan looks at the doorway. It’s empty.
“Where? I don’t see him,” Yifan says. “He’s been spending a long time in the bathroom.”
“No,” Zitao says, motioning at the piece of meat on his fork, “this is Joonmyun.”
“A fork?” Yifan squints.
Zitao sighs, exasperated at Yifan’s stupidity.
“You’re going to have to help me here because I have no idea what you’re talking-”
“You’re eating him, you dumbshit!” Zitao exclaims.
“Wait,” Yifan says, “I thought this was some sort of vegan meat?”
A nerve on his forehead pulsing, Zitao waves his fork around and says, “This isn’t vegan! It’s cannibalism! You’re. Eating. Joonmyun’s. Flesh. Do you understand?”
Yifan stops chewing. There’s bile crawling up his throat, and he feels like he’s going to barf.
“Woah, hold on,” he says. “Okay, you’re taking the emo thing too far, Zitao. I don’t know why you suddenly changed, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
Zitao jerks out of his seat and points his fork in Yifan’s direction. “It’s your fault, you dumbshit! I should’ve been the one to be promoted to senior project manager, not you!”
Okay, but Zitao doesn’t do anything at the office except play Temple Run and take selcas by the water cooler.
“If you’re so mad at me, then why did you invite me for dinner?” Yifan asks, suspicious.
Zitao looks like he’s about to flip the table. “This is for revenge. I’m forcing you to eat your own boyfriend. Why can’t you understand that?”
(Yifan almost mentions that he eats his boyfriend’s ass every night, but he feels like it’s not an appropriate time.)
“Right, um,” Yifan says, getting up from his chair. “I think I’m going to go now. Sorry you’re not feeling well, Zitao. Hopefully I’ll see you in the office when you’re better.”
Screeching, Zitao stabs his fork on the table, its prongs digging into the wood.
“Oh, and where’s Joonmyun? Can’t leave without him. He has the car keys,” Yifan says.
Zitao picks up his plate full of steak, shoves it in Yifan’s arms, and stomps away.
“Thanks for the leftovers!” Yifan calls out after him.
Prompt: Mythology
Pairing(s): Kris / Suho
Summary: Tao invites Yifan and Joonmyun for a very special dinner
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,358
Yifan checks the address scrawled on a piece of paper and matches it to the dilapidated mansion in front of them. He nods at Joonmyun, whose lips are pressed into a thin line.
“Double-check just to make sure,” Joonmyun says. “There’s no way anybody would want to live here. I mean-“
“It’s right. I checked already,” Yifan cuts him off and pounds on the front door.
The front door is filthy, covered with a thin layer of grime. It leaves Yifan’s giant yaoi hand soiled, so he wipes the gunk on his nice dress pants until he realizes what he’s done.
Joonmyun gives him with a stern you’re-an-idiot-why-do-i-even-put-up-with-you look before pressing the doorbell.
After a few moments, the door creaks open and there’s Zitao, dressed in a three-piece suit with polished shoes and slicked back hair. There’s a thin scar that extends from the left corner of his mouth, which makes his smile look lopsided.
“Yifan, Joonmyun, I’m so glad you came!” Zitao says, ushering them inside.
It’s a sunny day, and when they step into the mansion, they’re engulfed in darkness. It takes Yifan a while to adjust to the dim light coming from a chandelier covered in cobwebs.
Joonmyun smiles back and says, albeit tightly, “We’re flattered that you invited us over for dinner. I baked a cake for dessert.”
Zitao’s grin widens as he takes the offering. “So kind of you! Let me take this off of your hands.”
“It’s chocolate,” Joonmyun adds.
“Excellent,” Zitao says, almost purring. “Dinner is going to be splendid.”
Joonmyun and Yifan follow Zitao as he leads them down the foyer into a large room with high ceilings. There’s a wheezing grandfather clock and a few Victorian couches with sagging cushions. But the most prominent feature of the room is the full-body portrait of Zitao above the dusty fireplace. In it, he’s wearing some sort of uniform, and his eyes seem to follow you wherever you go. Yifan can’t help but stare at it, and when Zitao appears right beside him, he jumps in surprise.
“I had that portrait done a few years ago. What do you think about it?” Zitao asks.
“It captures your likeness,” Yifan says.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Zitao says and then pastes on another lopsided smile. “Excuse me while I go put this cake in the kitchen. Please make yourselves feel at home.”
A spider skitters across the floor and hides somewhere underneath one of the couches.
Home, right.
“Could you please tell me where the bathroom is? I’d like to freshen up before dinner,” Joonmyun says, ignoring the pleading look in Yifan’s eyes that beg him not to leave him.
“Yes, of course. It’s on the way to the kitchen, so just follow me,” Zitao says.
They both walk out of the room, leaving Yifan alone with the giant portrait of Zitao. It looks back at him.
A shiver crawls its way across Yifan’s neck. He clenches and unclenches his fists as he breaks into a cold sweat. The portrait seems to be laughing at his obvious discomfort.
"You don't scare me," Yifan tells the painting. "You're just a painting. And Zitao's just Zitao."
Just last week, Zitao was playing Temple Run-even though nobody plays Temple Run anymore-instead of reviewing the spreadsheets for their biweekly sales report meetings. (His official position is assistant project manager, but Zitao’s actually the office’s mascot because he doesn’t do any real work and is just there to look good.)
But this Zitao right now, Yifan doesn’t recognize him at all.
Yifan has no idea why Zitao suddenly has a haunted mansion and a creepy-as-balls portrait and a scar that makes him look like the evil stepdad in “Pan’s Labyrinth.” He must be going through a rebellious emo phase, Yifan deduces. Everyone goes through one. Even Yifan.
(When he was in middle school, Yifan would color his nails black with Sharpie and take “7 Minutes in Heaven with HOT CUTE SEXY Emo Boyz <3 <3 !!” online quizzes. But we don’t talk about that.)
“Dinner is ready,” Zitao says.
Startled, Yifan turns around to see him waiting by the doorway.
“Where’s Joonmyun?” Yifan asks.
“He’ll be joining us shortly.”
Yifan follows Zitao to the dining room, which includes a long table filled with a bountiful harvest of food-except all the food is rotten and covered in cobwebs. When Zitao takes a seat at the head of the table, he motions for Yifan to take the seat next to him.
When Zitao rings a small bell, a servant rushes in with two plates filled with steaks, plops them down in front of Zitao and Yifan, bows, and scurries away.
Yifan squints in the direction the servant disappeared.
“Was that-”
“Sehun?” Zitao says. “Yes. He owes me a favor.”
Yifan doesn’t know what to say about Sehun, the office’s secretary-turned-servant, so he nods as if he knows what Zitao’s talking about. “Sure.”
“Please, eat.”
“What about Joonmyun?” Yifan says.
Zitao glares at him, his eyes narrowing and his scar grotesquely contorting his face.
“Eat.”
Yifan cuts off a piece of his steak and takes a bite. He tries not to notice how Zitao scrutinizes him while he’s chewing.
“So,” Zitao says, “how does it taste?”
Despite the awkward situation, the steak’s seasoning is brilliant because the minty thyme soothes the kick of the paprika. It's a perfect marriage of ingredients, and Yifan can't help help but groan in appreciation.
“This is really good!” Yifan says, cutting up more of the steak. He chews his next bite with more fervor. “I haven’t had a cut of beef this tender in a long time.
Zitao picks up his steak knife and carves away at the meat. He chuckles. “Oh, it isn’t beef.”
“Oh, is it some sort of vegan-style meat substitute?” Yifan asks.
Maybe Zitao is going through a vegan phase as well as an emo phase. Yifan tried vegan cupcakes once, and they weren’t too bad.
“It’s Joonmyun,” Zitao says.
Yifan looks at the doorway. It’s empty.
“Where? I don’t see him,” Yifan says. “He’s been spending a long time in the bathroom.”
“No,” Zitao says, motioning at the piece of meat on his fork, “this is Joonmyun.”
“A fork?” Yifan squints.
Zitao sighs, exasperated at Yifan’s stupidity.
“You’re going to have to help me here because I have no idea what you’re talking-”
“You’re eating him, you dumbshit!” Zitao exclaims.
“Wait,” Yifan says, “I thought this was some sort of vegan meat?”
A nerve on his forehead pulsing, Zitao waves his fork around and says, “This isn’t vegan! It’s cannibalism! You’re. Eating. Joonmyun’s. Flesh. Do you understand?”
Yifan stops chewing. There’s bile crawling up his throat, and he feels like he’s going to barf.
“Woah, hold on,” he says. “Okay, you’re taking the emo thing too far, Zitao. I don’t know why you suddenly changed, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
Zitao jerks out of his seat and points his fork in Yifan’s direction. “It’s your fault, you dumbshit! I should’ve been the one to be promoted to senior project manager, not you!”
Okay, but Zitao doesn’t do anything at the office except play Temple Run and take selcas by the water cooler.
“If you’re so mad at me, then why did you invite me for dinner?” Yifan asks, suspicious.
Zitao looks like he’s about to flip the table. “This is for revenge. I’m forcing you to eat your own boyfriend. Why can’t you understand that?”
(Yifan almost mentions that he eats his boyfriend’s ass every night, but he feels like it’s not an appropriate time.)
“Right, um,” Yifan says, getting up from his chair. “I think I’m going to go now. Sorry you’re not feeling well, Zitao. Hopefully I’ll see you in the office when you’re better.”
Screeching, Zitao stabs his fork on the table, its prongs digging into the wood.
“Oh, and where’s Joonmyun? Can’t leave without him. He has the car keys,” Yifan says.
Zitao picks up his plate full of steak, shoves it in Yifan’s arms, and stomps away.
“Thanks for the leftovers!” Yifan calls out after him.