[FIC] MY PHON
pairing: henhae
rating: PG-13
Genre: Crack, Angst
Summary: Henry's a cheeky bastard.
Word Count: 1837. One-Shot
a/n: Because I feel like sometimes neither Henry nor Donghae can tweet coherent english
Hae’s Blackberry and iPod are missing. He swears he looked for it everywhere. Hell, he even went as far as to suspect that Hyukjae pilfered and hid them in his (not-so-secret) porn stash. It would not have been a lie to say that after finding that his phone wasn’t there either, Hae had spent a well-apportioned chunk of last night jerking off to Hyuk’s extensive collection. That, and digging out an iPhone that fans gifted him to use in the meantime.
But still, it doesn’t change the fact that his phone and mp3 player, along with all his songs, selcas, and other personal information, could potentially be lost in the black abysmal for eternity.
He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs exasperatingly.
“God, this is so fucked up.”
When something distressing happens, what else better to do than to share your little problems with the entire world? Which is why he snaps a pic of himself doing his best fishy pout, and proceeds to tweet,
“I lost my I pod and my phon today!! Thank u for being with me !! For the last years!! Good bye I pod &phon!! So Sad!! Bye Bye Bye.”
He reads it a couple of times, figures that his English is probably on par with that of Henry’s tweets, and hits publish. He doesn’t bother with having Siwon formalize his grammar or preach on spelling. How the hell do you spell “phone” anyways? Donghae is tired as fuck and doesn’t feel like asking Henry either. They just finished with a grueling press conference for that Hong Kong Music Festival, wind-milled through yet another performance of 太完美, and shit, they have to leave for Taiwan the next day.
With their schedule crammed with non-stop travel, filming, Concerts, fanmeets, and god-knows-what else, it’s a miracle that he didn’t lose anything of greater marginal value earlier.
Even though it’s already 2 AM and he’s exhausted, Hae doesn’t have the slightest inclination to crawl in bed. It’s not like he’s the only one. As he passes Kyuhyun’s room, he can spot the slightest flickers from the deadpan glow of the computer screen. Starcraft again. He wouldn’t be surprised if Kyu sleepwalks straight through the airport terminal and konks out on the plane next morning.
Hyuk crashed early, mumbling something about getting up extra early the next day to practice his dance solo; and Sungmin and Ryeowook dragged the stylist noonas out to rake the city for tapioca pearl milk tea. They just couldn’t get enough of the creamy, sugary drink even outside of Taiwan. Donghae scoffed. Sungmin lied when he told the reporters he drank four cups a day. Eight was more like it.
Speaking of pearl milk tea, Hae is hungry. Probably because he’s spent over four hours flipping couches, overturning bedsheets, and revisiting every single step taken the moment he got back to the dorm looking for the elusive “phon” and Ipod. As he fumbles his way to towards the kitchen, he hears a familiar humming drifting down the hall. He smirks to himself. Sounds like a certain hamster is raiding the food stash.
He slips into the kitchen just as Henry is mid-way through stuffing a ginormous piece of cake in his mouth. Leftovers from last month’s Happy Dictionary recording. Henry is concentrating on squeezing his eyes shut, savoring the taste of sweetness and heaven with each forkful when he hears the click of the fridge door swinging open.
Hae thinks he hears Henry garble out a muffled “ Wassup?” but he can’t really tell because he’s too busy deciding whether he should be mesmerized or disgusted by the slimy mass of masticated cake that rolls around visibly in Henry’s mouth as he chirps a greeting. What is common courtesy, again?
He waits until Henry has chewed enough to swallow in one big gulp, and then proceeds to scan the fridge and pantries for something to eat. Nothing looks too appetizing (he’s sure a certain hamster ate all the rice cakes he bought), so he decides to settle on the classic go-to meal. Ramen.
Hae makes sure to shoot Henry a knowing look while he rips the packaging between his teeth and spins a pair of chopsticks between the middle and index fingers of his right hand.
Henry sheepishly shrugs and mouths out, “What snacks?”
Like hell he doesn’t know what Hae means.
He ignores Henry’s guilty pout as he fills the kettle with water and sets it to boil over the stove.
As he tidies up the kitchen, the magnae swipes through his phone. From the looks of it, he’s checking twitter. Probably giggling at all those sappy messages rabid fangirls mention him in. Or scanning his timeline. Either way, he’s thoroughly amused, as he suddenly breaks out in bouts of laughter. He’s cracking up so bad that he gasps in between laughs and chokes on his cake a couple of times. All the while, he’s wheezing out (in English), “Oh my god, this is just hilarious, I can’t even believe it…Is this for real?…” and so on.
Donghae can’t help but be a little curious, so he sidles himself up to Henry’s side, peers behind his shoulder, and asks just what in hell’s name was that funny?
Henry swipes out of twitter, tilts his head, and looks at Hae with the doe-like saucer-eyes. “It’s nothing.” He tentatively licks the frosting off the corners of his mouth. “Nothing you should worry about.” He adds innocently.
The kitchen falls silent; only the light bubbling of the boiling stove could be heard.
Donghae rests his chin on Henry’s shoulder, his chest plastered against Henry’s back and arms wrapped around his stomach. It’s been an eternity since they’ve had a moment like this, with all the fancams and fangirls sharply trained towards all things Eunhae. Hae tilts his head slightly to nuzzle his nose against the crook of Henry’s shoulder and starts to lightly mouth up his neck.
“I lost my ipod and phone today,” he whispers as his teeth graze along the fine hairs of Henry’s skin.
“So I’ve heard,” Henry says cooly. He turns to face Hae and pulls him flush against his chest by the shirt. They so close, so close. And fuck, Henry’s wearing that white v-neck from SS3 again. Donghae practically smiles against Henry’s lips.
“So you saw my tweet. Good for you.”
“But…” He nips at Henry’s earlobe and whispers, “Have you seen my phone, by any chance?”
Deterring the question, Henry avoids Donghae’s eyes, pulls him in by the nape of his neck, and mushes his lips against Hae’s. Donghae’s eyes widen at Henry’s sudden, bold advancement, but when Henry starts to push his thigh against Donghae’s hips and gropes up his ass, all words are forgotten. They make out for what seems like an eternity (not that either of them would want it to end), teeth clacking against teeth, lips capturing lips again and again.
Heart beating double-time, Donghae splays his fingers against Henry’s chest, leaning against him so that he can nip at Henry’s bottom lip. Henry’s avoiding his question. He repeats again, “Have you seen my Blackberry?”
Henry laughs breathlessly, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he hooks his thumbs into Donghae’s belt loops and grinds with intent. “Hyung, why would I ever steal your phone?”
Oh, okay. Hae’s getting the hang of this. He’ll just play along.
“I don’t know. You tell me,” he replies as his hands drift underneath Henry’s T-shirt and up between fabric and skin. Digging his fingers in, he drags his nails down Henry’s shoulderblades, past the lining of his jeans, and plasters his palms on Henry’s ass cheeks.
He locks in on Henry’s mouth again as he continues to grope through the rough fabric, and slips his hands into Henry’s back pockets. Just as he hits the bottom his fingers brush up against something rectangular-shaped and plasticy. Something that feels a lot like his Blackberry.
Hae almost gasps in surprise, but he silences himself as he muffles his cry against Henry’s jaw. The bastard. He lied about not knowing where the phone was.
It’s a challenge to fish out the phone while distracting Henry with open mouthed kisses underneath the v-neck of his shirt, but Hae’s sure the phone is his when he feels the familiar shape of the keychain he had hung to the case. The one that Hyukjae had bought for him during one of their rendezvous through a Taiwanese night market. Donghae slides his hand deeper into Henry’s back pocket, grasping at the sides of what seems to be his cellphone, but just as he’s about to grab it, Henry hooks his elbows underneath Donghae’s arms and pulls the both of them back into the wall, smashing Hae’s fingers in the process.
Donghae winces a bit in pain. He wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of his fingernails were bruised in the process.
Henry looks down at him cockily. “What’s the matter……Hyung?” Donghae can tell that Henry is relishing the honorific as it rolls of his tongue.
“You cheeky little fucker,” Hae hisses against his jaw. “It was you who stole my phone. I looked everywhere for it. Even in Hyuk’s porno stash.”
Henry splays both palms against Donghae’s chest and pushes him away. “What the heck, bro? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Donghae looks at him with an exasperated sigh. “Don’t lie to me. I felt it through your pants.”
Henry cocks his head to the side, and stares at Donghae intensely.
“Really? Perhaps you’re mind’s a bit muddled from our makeout sesh.” Henry pauses, and continues, “And what’s with that accusatory tone? Ever since our promotions started, you haven’t even spared me a single glance because you’re too busy prancing around in rainbowland with Hyukjae. Then all of a sudden you randomly single me out for stealing your phone? You probably lost it yourself since you’re such a dumbass.” Henry tries to bite back the bitterness in his voice, but it leaks out anyways, unmasked.
Donghae is about to say something back, but almost simultaneously, the hot water kettle starts whistling in a high-pitched squeal, and Sungmin, Ryeowook, and their coordi-noonas come crashing through the door, back from their night-market adventures. Donghae doesn’t have the chance to reply because Ryeowook is shoving what looks like a stuffed giraffe in his face and Sungmin is trying to get him to taste this new flavor of Tapioca Milk Tea. He manages to untangle himself and skids towards the kitchen to turn off the stove (because the kettle’s been screaming since forever).
Just as he’s pouring the scalding water into his ramen, Henry slips by.
“Oh, and hyung, I forgot to tell you. You spelled ‘phon’ wrong.” A devious smirk plays across his lips as he shoves Donghae’s face into the counter and runs off, waving what looks EXACTLY like Donghae’s phone in his right hand.
“You sneaky bastard!” Hae shouts after him. “Give me my phone back!”
~
( finally posted it \o// )
rating: PG-13
Genre: Crack, Angst
Summary: Henry's a cheeky bastard.
Word Count: 1837. One-Shot
a/n: Because I feel like sometimes neither Henry nor Donghae can tweet coherent english
Hae’s Blackberry and iPod are missing. He swears he looked for it everywhere. Hell, he even went as far as to suspect that Hyukjae pilfered and hid them in his (not-so-secret) porn stash. It would not have been a lie to say that after finding that his phone wasn’t there either, Hae had spent a well-apportioned chunk of last night jerking off to Hyuk’s extensive collection. That, and digging out an iPhone that fans gifted him to use in the meantime.
But still, it doesn’t change the fact that his phone and mp3 player, along with all his songs, selcas, and other personal information, could potentially be lost in the black abysmal for eternity.
He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs exasperatingly.
“God, this is so fucked up.”
When something distressing happens, what else better to do than to share your little problems with the entire world? Which is why he snaps a pic of himself doing his best fishy pout, and proceeds to tweet,
“I lost my I pod and my phon today!! Thank u for being with me !! For the last years!! Good bye I pod &phon!! So Sad!! Bye Bye Bye.”
He reads it a couple of times, figures that his English is probably on par with that of Henry’s tweets, and hits publish. He doesn’t bother with having Siwon formalize his grammar or preach on spelling. How the hell do you spell “phone” anyways? Donghae is tired as fuck and doesn’t feel like asking Henry either. They just finished with a grueling press conference for that Hong Kong Music Festival, wind-milled through yet another performance of 太完美, and shit, they have to leave for Taiwan the next day.
With their schedule crammed with non-stop travel, filming, Concerts, fanmeets, and god-knows-what else, it’s a miracle that he didn’t lose anything of greater marginal value earlier.
Even though it’s already 2 AM and he’s exhausted, Hae doesn’t have the slightest inclination to crawl in bed. It’s not like he’s the only one. As he passes Kyuhyun’s room, he can spot the slightest flickers from the deadpan glow of the computer screen. Starcraft again. He wouldn’t be surprised if Kyu sleepwalks straight through the airport terminal and konks out on the plane next morning.
Hyuk crashed early, mumbling something about getting up extra early the next day to practice his dance solo; and Sungmin and Ryeowook dragged the stylist noonas out to rake the city for tapioca pearl milk tea. They just couldn’t get enough of the creamy, sugary drink even outside of Taiwan. Donghae scoffed. Sungmin lied when he told the reporters he drank four cups a day. Eight was more like it.
Speaking of pearl milk tea, Hae is hungry. Probably because he’s spent over four hours flipping couches, overturning bedsheets, and revisiting every single step taken the moment he got back to the dorm looking for the elusive “phon” and Ipod. As he fumbles his way to towards the kitchen, he hears a familiar humming drifting down the hall. He smirks to himself. Sounds like a certain hamster is raiding the food stash.
He slips into the kitchen just as Henry is mid-way through stuffing a ginormous piece of cake in his mouth. Leftovers from last month’s Happy Dictionary recording. Henry is concentrating on squeezing his eyes shut, savoring the taste of sweetness and heaven with each forkful when he hears the click of the fridge door swinging open.
Hae thinks he hears Henry garble out a muffled “ Wassup?” but he can’t really tell because he’s too busy deciding whether he should be mesmerized or disgusted by the slimy mass of masticated cake that rolls around visibly in Henry’s mouth as he chirps a greeting. What is common courtesy, again?
He waits until Henry has chewed enough to swallow in one big gulp, and then proceeds to scan the fridge and pantries for something to eat. Nothing looks too appetizing (he’s sure a certain hamster ate all the rice cakes he bought), so he decides to settle on the classic go-to meal. Ramen.
Hae makes sure to shoot Henry a knowing look while he rips the packaging between his teeth and spins a pair of chopsticks between the middle and index fingers of his right hand.
Henry sheepishly shrugs and mouths out, “What snacks?”
Like hell he doesn’t know what Hae means.
He ignores Henry’s guilty pout as he fills the kettle with water and sets it to boil over the stove.
As he tidies up the kitchen, the magnae swipes through his phone. From the looks of it, he’s checking twitter. Probably giggling at all those sappy messages rabid fangirls mention him in. Or scanning his timeline. Either way, he’s thoroughly amused, as he suddenly breaks out in bouts of laughter. He’s cracking up so bad that he gasps in between laughs and chokes on his cake a couple of times. All the while, he’s wheezing out (in English), “Oh my god, this is just hilarious, I can’t even believe it…Is this for real?…” and so on.
Donghae can’t help but be a little curious, so he sidles himself up to Henry’s side, peers behind his shoulder, and asks just what in hell’s name was that funny?
Henry swipes out of twitter, tilts his head, and looks at Hae with the doe-like saucer-eyes. “It’s nothing.” He tentatively licks the frosting off the corners of his mouth. “Nothing you should worry about.” He adds innocently.
The kitchen falls silent; only the light bubbling of the boiling stove could be heard.
Donghae rests his chin on Henry’s shoulder, his chest plastered against Henry’s back and arms wrapped around his stomach. It’s been an eternity since they’ve had a moment like this, with all the fancams and fangirls sharply trained towards all things Eunhae. Hae tilts his head slightly to nuzzle his nose against the crook of Henry’s shoulder and starts to lightly mouth up his neck.
“I lost my ipod and phone today,” he whispers as his teeth graze along the fine hairs of Henry’s skin.
“So I’ve heard,” Henry says cooly. He turns to face Hae and pulls him flush against his chest by the shirt. They so close, so close. And fuck, Henry’s wearing that white v-neck from SS3 again. Donghae practically smiles against Henry’s lips.
“So you saw my tweet. Good for you.”
“But…” He nips at Henry’s earlobe and whispers, “Have you seen my phone, by any chance?”
Deterring the question, Henry avoids Donghae’s eyes, pulls him in by the nape of his neck, and mushes his lips against Hae’s. Donghae’s eyes widen at Henry’s sudden, bold advancement, but when Henry starts to push his thigh against Donghae’s hips and gropes up his ass, all words are forgotten. They make out for what seems like an eternity (not that either of them would want it to end), teeth clacking against teeth, lips capturing lips again and again.
Heart beating double-time, Donghae splays his fingers against Henry’s chest, leaning against him so that he can nip at Henry’s bottom lip. Henry’s avoiding his question. He repeats again, “Have you seen my Blackberry?”
Henry laughs breathlessly, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he hooks his thumbs into Donghae’s belt loops and grinds with intent. “Hyung, why would I ever steal your phone?”
Oh, okay. Hae’s getting the hang of this. He’ll just play along.
“I don’t know. You tell me,” he replies as his hands drift underneath Henry’s T-shirt and up between fabric and skin. Digging his fingers in, he drags his nails down Henry’s shoulderblades, past the lining of his jeans, and plasters his palms on Henry’s ass cheeks.
He locks in on Henry’s mouth again as he continues to grope through the rough fabric, and slips his hands into Henry’s back pockets. Just as he hits the bottom his fingers brush up against something rectangular-shaped and plasticy. Something that feels a lot like his Blackberry.
Hae almost gasps in surprise, but he silences himself as he muffles his cry against Henry’s jaw. The bastard. He lied about not knowing where the phone was.
It’s a challenge to fish out the phone while distracting Henry with open mouthed kisses underneath the v-neck of his shirt, but Hae’s sure the phone is his when he feels the familiar shape of the keychain he had hung to the case. The one that Hyukjae had bought for him during one of their rendezvous through a Taiwanese night market. Donghae slides his hand deeper into Henry’s back pocket, grasping at the sides of what seems to be his cellphone, but just as he’s about to grab it, Henry hooks his elbows underneath Donghae’s arms and pulls the both of them back into the wall, smashing Hae’s fingers in the process.
Donghae winces a bit in pain. He wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of his fingernails were bruised in the process.
Henry looks down at him cockily. “What’s the matter……Hyung?” Donghae can tell that Henry is relishing the honorific as it rolls of his tongue.
“You cheeky little fucker,” Hae hisses against his jaw. “It was you who stole my phone. I looked everywhere for it. Even in Hyuk’s porno stash.”
Henry splays both palms against Donghae’s chest and pushes him away. “What the heck, bro? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Donghae looks at him with an exasperated sigh. “Don’t lie to me. I felt it through your pants.”
Henry cocks his head to the side, and stares at Donghae intensely.
“Really? Perhaps you’re mind’s a bit muddled from our makeout sesh.” Henry pauses, and continues, “And what’s with that accusatory tone? Ever since our promotions started, you haven’t even spared me a single glance because you’re too busy prancing around in rainbowland with Hyukjae. Then all of a sudden you randomly single me out for stealing your phone? You probably lost it yourself since you’re such a dumbass.” Henry tries to bite back the bitterness in his voice, but it leaks out anyways, unmasked.
Donghae is about to say something back, but almost simultaneously, the hot water kettle starts whistling in a high-pitched squeal, and Sungmin, Ryeowook, and their coordi-noonas come crashing through the door, back from their night-market adventures. Donghae doesn’t have the chance to reply because Ryeowook is shoving what looks like a stuffed giraffe in his face and Sungmin is trying to get him to taste this new flavor of Tapioca Milk Tea. He manages to untangle himself and skids towards the kitchen to turn off the stove (because the kettle’s been screaming since forever).
Just as he’s pouring the scalding water into his ramen, Henry slips by.
“Oh, and hyung, I forgot to tell you. You spelled ‘phon’ wrong.” A devious smirk plays across his lips as he shoves Donghae’s face into the counter and runs off, waving what looks EXACTLY like Donghae’s phone in his right hand.
“You sneaky bastard!” Hae shouts after him. “Give me my phone back!”
~
( finally posted it \o// )