riots: (Default)
k ([personal profile] riots) wrote2013-06-03 02:29 am

various drabbles from tumblr

suho/chanyeol, PG, 1.4k words
originally posted here. prompt was 'chanyeol thinks he’s allergic to suho because he turns red and hot whenever suho touches him.'

It's allergies, Chanyeol has decided.

"...what?" Sehun asks, voice flat. "Allergies. You're allergic to leader."

Chanyeol frowns at the screen. Sehun's only half paying attention to the game, draped awkwardly across Jongin's lap. He's not sure how Sehun is still managing to win, his cheek pressed against Jongin's thigh. He's also not sure how Jongin is still managing to sleep through this, head tipped back against the back of the couch and mouth slack. "Don't," he says. "You're making it sound weird."

"It is weird," Sehun points out. He lets out a muted whoop as his character crosses the finish line first and Jongin grunts in his sleep, his head tipping to the side. "It's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You can't be allergic to a person."

The good thing about Chanyeol's position on the floor is that it puts him at the perfect height to punch Sehun in the thigh. Sehun's yelp is totally satisfying. "Well, I am," he mumbles. "It's the only explanation."

It is. It has to be. Weirder things have happened, right? It's just that, well. Lately, whenever he's near Joonmyun, he gets a little lightheaded? And yesterday, in the van on the way to practice, when Joonmyun had squeezed into the seat next to him, his thigh pressed up against Chanyeol's, Chanyeol had felt all hot and weird. He'd been hyper aware of the way that Joonmyun's small hand had fallen to curl companionably around Chanyeol's knee when he'd leaned forward to chat with Jongdae in the front seat. It's the only answer. Or, well, the only answer that Chanyeol is willing to address.

"You're an idiot," Sehun says, and when he wins again, he scowls at Chanyeol. "Come on, quit thinking about leader and play already, it's boring when it's not a challenge."

Chanyeol ignores him. "Maybe it's his cologne?" he suggests. "Or like, his laundry soap."

Sehun groans and smacks him over the head with his controller. The TV and Chanyeol let out twin noises of protest. "We all use the same soap, dickweed."

"I just feel weird," Chanyeol says, rubbing his head as he sets up the next race. His voice drops. "Like. When he's around me? And if me..."

When Sehun doesn't reply, Chanyeol turns to find him staring at him, his face a kind of fascinating mix of disgust and pity. "You're an idiot," Sehun says.

Something in their conversation jostles Jongin awake and he snorts, his head whipping forward. "Who's an idiot?" he mumbles blearily. Chanyeol buries his face in his knees. He knew he should've waited until Kris was around to talk about this.

"Tell you later," Sehun says, and he chucks his controller at Chanyeol. It glances off his chest and clatters into his lap, and Sehun pulls himself upright. "Leader," he calls in a sing-song. Jongin blinks, looking back and forth between the two of them and then smiling sleepily as Joonmyun sticks his head into the living room. "This idiot wants to play Mario Kart with you."

There it is again. Joonmyun smiles at Chanyeol and Chanyeol can feel the flush spreading across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He tries to recover enough to shoot Sehun a dirty look but he and Jongin are already almost back in Sehun's room. He catches Jongin mumbling "I don't get it..." before the door closes behind him, and then it's just him and Joonmyun left.

"Sehun too good for you?" Joonmyun teases, sitting down on the couch, and Chanyeol struggles to control his expression. "Did you want an easy win, is that it?"

"No," Chanyeol protests, but Joonmyun just laughs good-naturedly, reaching into Chanyeol's lap for a controller. Chanyeol almost swallows his tongue.

Joonmyun nudges him with his elbow. "Hey, I get it," he says. "I've got some studying but I can play a few rounds. Ready to lose?"

He's way too close. That allergic reaction is flaring up again, making Chanyeol too aware of how Joonmyun's knee brushes against his shoulder, his throat working. Maybe the fans gave him something weird? But...Joonmyun always smells nice. It can't be that. "Hah, yeah," Chanyeol laughs weakly. Maybe he's sick. Is that it?

"Are you okay?" Joonmyun asks, bending over so his face is close to Chanyeol, examining him. "You're being quiet, and you look a little flushed." He presses his hand to Chanyeol's forehead and Chanyeol shivers. He still smells good. Oh no.

"I'm fine, hyung!" he says cheerfully. He lifts a hand and it hovers for a second, uncertain whether to push Joonmyun's touch away, or lean into it. He thinks about what Sehun had said, and tries not to flush further.

Joonmyun isn't quite buying it, unfortunately. His eyes narrow, but he pulls away, brushing a hand through Chanyeol's hair. "Alright," he says. He raises his controller. "Let's play?"

"I'm gonna kick your ass," Chanyeol says, with a joviality he doesn't feel.

If possible, Chanyeol is even worse now that Joonmyun is in the room, his leg pressed against him. He's a ridiculous player, he always leans in the direction that he wants his car to go and his idea of trash talk is to tell Chanyeol that he better 'watch his butt'. It's adorable and terrible and Chanyeol is going to die.

"Alright," Joonmyun says after the third, spectacular loss, leaning back on the couch, tucking his thin legs underneath himself. "What's up?" He tips his head, eyes wide and earnest, and Chanyeol wants to melt into the floor.

"I'm fine," Chanyeol insists, but he flinches when Joonmyun lays a little hand on his shoulder.

"You've been weird for a while," Joonmyun says, and when Chanyeol hears that undercurrent of hurt in Joonmyun's voice, his head snaps up. He hadn't thought that Joonmyun would notice the way that he slides away from his touch or puts people between them. It's just - well. Joonmyun's smile, when he turns it on Chanyeol, is kind of hard to handle. "Is it something I did?"

Chanyeol shakes his head immediately. "No, hyung," he says, but that only makes Joonmyun frown harder, confused. "I mean, it is? But - "

Joonmyun pulls away. "I'm sorry," he says.

"No," Chanyeol says, a bit desperately, and then he laughs at himself. "It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"He is," echoes from the half open door of Sehun's bedroom, followed by Jongin's laughter. "Real stupid."

Chanyeol folds his long legs up against his chest. "We don't really have to comeback with him, right?" he asks. "If I kill him, we can totally find a replacement."

"Ask him why he feels weird when you smile, hyung," Sehun shouts, and Chanyeol groans. He throws a pillow at the door, and it closes with a satisfying bang.

When he manages to look up at Joonmyun again, he looks thoughtful, like the pieces of a puzzle just slid into place. "Ah," he says.

"It's fine, it's nothing." Chanyeol says hastily. "I think I'm coming down with something. Or allergies? Maybe it's allergies." He flashes Joonmyun one of his widest smiles.

He should've know that Joonmyun would see through it. "You like my smile, Chanyeol?" he asks softly.

"Yes," Chanyeol says without thinking. "I mean. Not in a weird way? You have a nice smile. Hasn't the company told you that? And the fans."

"But you like my smile," Joonmyun says. His voice is soft and fond in a way that Chanyeol isn't familiar with, but it makes his insides melt. "You like my smile."

"Maybe?" Chanyeol squeaks. He clutches his controller hard, trying to swallow down that bubble of hope that's pushing at his ribs.

Chanyeol's seen Joonmyun insecure before, seen him hesitant, but never quite like this. He carefully curls a hand around the back of Chanyeol's head, and he turns that blinding smile on him. "It means more, somehow," Joonmyun says. "Coming from you."

"Oh," Chanyeol says dumbly. He thinks he might be grinning, but he's not sure what his face is doing right now.

"I have to study," Joonmyun says regretfully. He leans in and Chanyeol squeezes his eyes shut. He feels the gentle press of lips against his temple and Chanyeol is suddenly very glad he's sitting down. "Want to keep me company?"

Chanyeol scrambles to his feet. "Okay," he says, and when Joonmyun beams at him, he's helpless to do anything but trail after him to his room. He's still flushing, still a bit light-headed, but maybe that's not such a bad thing.

chen/kai, pg, 620 words
originally posted here. prompt was ' Chenkai. Dance practice'.

Jongin isn’t really certain why Jongdae signed up for classes. He’s met a lot of people teaching dance, but there aren’t a lot with Jongdae’s complete lack of rhythm. At least he has a sense of flair, he supposes.

Near the end of the lesson, Jongdae spins left when he should’ve gone right, and he ends up in a tangle on the floor with a very annoyed Lu Han. “Alright,” Jongin says, and he holds out his hand. Jongdae takes it, pulling with too much force and nearly overbalancing Jongin too. It makes him step forward, his face too close to Jongdae’s, but when they’re both standing again, Jongdae just smiles at him, all innocence. “Maybe we should call it a day.”

The rest of the students filter out of the class, and Jongin takes a few seconds to speak to each in turn, complimenting their work and mentioning what they need to work on. “You’re on your own, next class,” Lu Han says, hoisting his bag on his shoulder. “I have exams and I’d rather not be taken down by that menace a second time.” He points at Jongdae, who’s taking his time gathering his stuff up.

“He’s not so bad,” Jongin protests, which just earns him a knowing look from Lu Han. Okay, maybe Jongdae is terrible. But see, the thing is, his face, his face is pretty great. Jongin likes getting to see his face. And bumping him down to an intro class means that he wouldn’t get to see him anymore. Lu Han would.

But that’s selfish. Luckily, there’s some middle ground. Jongin awkwardly inserts himself between Jongdae and the door as he’s heading to leave. “Um, hey, can we talk?” he asks.

“Uh oh,” Jongdae says. “In trouble with teacher.” He grins.

“No, no,” Jongin flushes and waves a hand. “I just wanted to suggest that uh, maybe you should think about private lessons? I don’t want you to like, fall behind. You don’t. Hmm. You don’t tend to pick things up as quickly as the rest of the class?”

Jongdae shifts his weight from his left foot to his right. “Can you suggest a tutor?” he asks. There’s something sly in his eyes that Jongin can’t quite read.

“Well, I’ve got time, if you’d like.”

Jongdae’s grin is wide and sharp. “Oh, that’d be great,” he says sweetly. All the rest of the students are gone, and Jongin abruptly feels nervous. “When is good for you?”

“How about now?” His voice gets high on the last syllable and Jongdae steps forward, dropping his bag and deliberately reaching past Jongin to close the door behind him.

“Works for me,” Jongdae says, and the way he smiles up at Jongin is simultaneously feral and terrifying and a ferocious turn on.

“You don’t really want to learn dance, do you?” Jongin asks, and he thinks about all those classes where Jongdae had sweat and struggled to keep up and looked, well, a bit silly. It all makes sense now.

“No,” Jongdae agrees easily. His hands land on Jongin’s hips and he gently, firmly, steers him backwards until his back hits the door. “Not at all.” Jongin can’t tell if it’s the cooling sweat or the way that Jongdae looks at him, but he shivers as he dips his head obediently for Jongdae’s kiss. He likes dancing a lot, but when Jongdae pushes a knee between his thighs and licks at the roof of his mouth, Jongin is fairly certain he’s found his new favourite thing. Ever.

kris/kai, pg, 800 words
originally posted here. prompt was 'KRISKAI kingdom au'.

Jongin never asked for this. He never much minded being the youngest child, after two sisters, until suddenly there was talk of inheritances and alliances and before he could even blink he was being shipped off to a castle across the ocean to marry some man he’s never even met before.

It’s just as awkward as he’d thought it would be. Prince Yifan is cold and intimidating, tall and broad shouldered with strong brows that make him look perpetually angry. Jongin sits at his side, but Yifan never speaks to him. He spends long days either learning the things vital to rule a country or dealing with the petty issues his father sets for him, and Jongin is left to his own devices. He’d left all his friends at home, and he misses them fiercely, even fussy court advisor Kim Joonmyun and his penchant for ghastly court robes.

Their wedding approaches and Jongin kind of dreads it. At least, he supposes, toying with the pendant his husband to be had gifted him upon his arrival, Yifan never fails to provide him with shiny things, so he can look good at his elbow.

One night, when Yifan has yet again begged off dinner in order to study and left Jongin to a long, silent dinner with two people he barely shares a common language with, Jongin returns to his room to find a note lying on his bed. The penmanship is horrid, the ink smeared and barely readable. If you sneak down the servant’s stairway to the kitchen, you might be able to talk the cook into extra dessert.

It takes Jongin a few minutes to talk himself into it. Roaming around after hours is frowned upon, even for the soon to be husband of the castle’s first prince. Still, he makes his way down the cramped stairwell to the warmth of the castle’s kitchen, and he’s astounded to find stately Prince Yifan perched by the table. He looks nothing like what Jongin is used to. His hair is soft and unstyled, pulled up into a short ponytail to keep it out of his eyes, and his robes look almost worn. It’s the first time he’s even looked like someone Jongin wants to get to know, and Jongin lets out a soft noise of surprise before he can stop himself

“I was wondering if you’d come,” Yifan admits, and Jongin hesitates at the doorway. “Yixing left us some cakes. He’s got a soft spot for me.”

The pastries in front of Yifan look amazing, and Jongin finds himself sliding onto the stool next to Yifan and hesitantly taking one. “I didn’t know it was you who’d left the note,” he says.

Yifan’s small mouth twists. “I’ve been a terrible fiancé,” he says, and Jongin glances at him sidelong as he takes the first bite. It’s amazing. It almost makes up for the long, awkward night he’d had. “My father, he’s not young. He wants me to take the crown as soon as we’re married. It’s a lot of pressure.” Jongin nods, but Yifan frowns. “No, that’s an excuse. I’ve been neglecting you, and I’m sorry.”

Jongin shrugs. “It’s fine,” he manages around the pastry in his mouth, and it makes Yifan smile, and - oh.

“You must be lonely,” Yifan says, but something in the way he says it speaks of familiarity, of recognition, and Jongin knows he’s not the only one. “There aren’t many who speak Korean here.”

“Just my guard, Minseok,” Jongin agrees. “And I think that companion of yours, Lu Han?” He grimaces. “He keeps stealing my guard away. I never mean to let him, but somehow he just - “

“Every time,” Yifan agrees, and his smile broadens, and Jongin realizes that this is the first time he’s ever had a real conversation with him. “Isn’t it infuriating?”

“Yes,” Jongin agrees fervently, and the two of them laugh, their voices loud in the empty kitchen.

A hesitant hand finds its way to Jongin’s knee and his eyes widen. “Can we maybe start again?” Yifan asks. “Or just…start at all?” He ducks his head and Jongin stares, unaccustomed to seeing this side of the young prince. “I would like to get to know my handsome husband-to-be, if he’d let me.”

Handsome. Jongin’s hands and lips are sticky with confectioner’s sugar and his insides are melting. “I’d like that,” he says, and for the first time in months, he feels a faint sense of hope. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe, this could work. This could be home.

kris/yixing, pg, 850 words
originally posted here. written bc emmi asked for domestic fanxing.

Dimly, Yifan hears a banging infiltrate the peace of the bedroom. He decides to ignore it, choosing instead to turn his face away from the mid-morning sunlight and pull Yixing closer. It's one of those rare days that both of them are off and he's going to enjoy it, goddamnit. Yixing sighs and his nose brushes up against Yifan's. “You should answer that,” he murmurs, but the way that he curls his thin arms around Yifan's ribs and pulls him closer says otherwise.

The banging stops, and if Yifan had the will to move, he'd pump his fist in the air in victory. “How come I have to get up?” he asks, a bit grumpy.

They both know the answer, of course. Because Yifan has always been weak for Yixing and he's weaker still in the face of a sleepy Yixing, all half-lidded eyes and soft smiles. “It's your job,” Yixing suggests, as whoever's at the door knocks again. He walks his fingertips up Yifan's ribs and then carefully and firmly kicks him out of bed.

Yifan lands on the floor in a tangle of sheets and outrage. “I don't get paid enough for this job,” he grumbles, sitting up again, but Yixing just laughs at him and rolls over.

The banging sounds at the door again as Yifan throws on a pair of pair of boxers and a shirt and runs to get it. It feels a bit uncomfortable, but he doesn't think much of it. There's a delivery man at the door with a parcel, and Yifan greets him politely, signs for it, and then closes the door behind him.

He makes his way back into the bedroom, bent on getting back into bed and not getting out until they absolutely have to, but Yixing erupts into laughter before he even gets through the door. “What?” he asks peevishly, and he looks down. No wonder it felt uncomfortable. He has on an old shirt of Yixing's, but what's worse is he's also got on a pair of Yixing's boxers. They don't leave a whole lot to the imagination. Yifan turns red. “Oh my god.”

“Was it Jongin who dropped off the package?” Yixing asks. He sits up and crosses his legs, grinning at Yifan as he strips them off again. “At least he's cute.”

“He's practically still in high school,” Yifan says. “Please stop.”

Yixing grins and climbs to his feet. “I said he was cute, not that I was thinking of inviting him to our bed as a third.” As Yifan pulls on a pair of his own boxers, Yixing slides his arms around his waist from behind, making things difficult for him. His hands creep up under the hem of Yifan's shirt and come to press against the softness of his belly. “Do you want me to say that you're cuter?”

“Please,” Yifan says, finally tugging his boxers up over his hips.

Yixing decides to take that literally. “Yifan is cuter. Yifan is the cutest.” He smiles against Yifan's shoulder. “The prettiest princess.”

“Okay, that was a little far,” Yifan says, exasperated, and he turns around to face Yixing.

“Prettiest prince, then,” Yixing amends. Yifan groans and drops his hands onto Yixing's shoulders. It never fails to surprise him a little, to see how his big hands almost seem to dwarf Yixing's thin frame.

The noise of their conversation must have woken someone else up. Yixing is just stretching up on his tiptoes to press his lips against Yifan's jawline when they hear the clatter of little paws. Their puppy, Niangao, comes racing into the room and jumps up at them, his tongue hanging out. “Good morning,” Yifan says, looking down at Niangao, who is doing his best to lick Yifan's shins clean. 'Clean', of course, by puppy standards, which aren't quite the same as Yifan's. He bends to ruffle Niangao's ears and scratch under his chin as Yixing steps away to pull on some clothes.

“I guess we're up for the day,” Yixing says, pressing his fingertips lightly against Yifan's shoulder. When Yifan looks up at him, he melts a little, as he always does, at the sight of Yixing swimming in one of his shirts. “Are those my boxers?” Yifan asks.

Yixing grins. “Just returning the favour,” he replies, bending to press his lips to Yifan's forehead. “C'mon.” He holds out his hand. “I'll make breakfast and then we'll take the munchkin out for a walk.”

“Deal,” Yifan agrees, taking Yixing's hand and climbing to his feet. “Do I get it in bed?”

Curling his fingers gently around Yifan's jaw, Yixing smiles sweetly. “In your dreams,” he says, and Yifan throws his head and laughs. He lets Yixing tug him into the kitchen, Niangao at their heels, and he can't help but feel a little bit like one of the luckiest dudes in the world.

Even if he didn't get that breakfast in bed, and Niangao won't quit licking his bare toes.

chanyeol/kyungsoo, pg, 910 words
originally posted here. written bc chansoo and kittens.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Kyungsoo manages to get the door open even with his arms full of bags from the grocery store. "Chanyeol," he calls, carefully toeing off his shoes and then making his way into the kitchen. "Chanyeol, can you come help me put these away?" There's no immediate reply, but Kyungsoo doesn't think much of it. He struggles with the bags but doesn't drop any of them, thank God.

As Kyungsoo starts putting everything away, Chanyeol still doesn't show. He pauses with his head in the fridge. Strange. "Chanyeol?"

When he straightens and turns, he comes face to face with his boyfriend. "Hi," Chanyeol says.

Kyungsoo can't take his eyes off the armful of kittens Chanyeol has. Three of them, actually. A noisy ginger one, a sleek and sleepy grey one, and the tiniest little black one. "And where did these come from?" They're kind of adorable, honestly.

Chanyeol puts on his best hopeful grin. "So, remember how we were talking about dogs?" Kyungsoo nods, turning back to the groceries. He needs to get some of them into the fridge. "Well, I know we said they were too much work, and we're always out of the house and stuff, so that was a no." Kyungsoo glances back at him and he can't help but grin a little. The ginger kitten is trying to scale Chanyeol's chest. "Ow. Um, so I started thinking, why not a cat, right? I mean, they don't need much attention and if they're feeling nice they can totally be cuddly."

"So you just decided to get a whole family?" Kyungsoo asks, amused.

Chanyeol wilts, a little. "Well, I mean, I didn't mean to? But you remember Jongdae's friend, Zitao? The tall one?" He opens his mouth to continue but yelps instead. He looks down in dismay at the ginger kitten, now clinging precariously to his front by his claws. Taking pity on him, Kyungsoo carefully removes the kitten, cradling it gently in his hands. "Well, his cat had a litter, and I was just going to look? But they were all so cute."

They are, but Kyungsoo isn't about to admit that just yet. The ginger kitten mews noisily and butts at his fingers, demanding attention.

When he glances up again, Chanyeol flashes a smile. "I was just thinking about this little guy - " He holds up the sleepy grey one. " - but then Zitao said he was having trouble finding homes for them, so I just figured - "

"Why not, huh?" Kyungsoo says, stroking his thumb down the ginger kitten's neck.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you. I did try to call but you didn't pick up!"

The service at the grocery store has always been spotty. "Are they at least house-trained?"

He should've known better than to give in so easily. In a second, Chanyeol is crowding up to him, giving him an awkward one armed hug, a kitten balanced in each hand. The grey one eyes Kyungsoo balefully and yawns. "Yes," Chanyeol says breathlessly. "And Zitao was nice enough to set me up with a litter box and I got some food this morning and everything."

It's always been almost impossible to resist Chanyeol when he's this enthusiastic about something. "You covered all your bases, huh?"

Chanyeol noses at Kyungsoo's ear and kisses his temple. "Look at how cute they are," he wheedles, and the ginger kitten meows again from where it's made itself comfortable in Kyungsoo's hands.

"Three kittens," Kyungsoo sighs. "What are we even going to name them?"

Chanyeol gestures at the ginger one. "That one can be Mean Little Shit'," he says, and Kyungsoo laughs.


Later that night, after Kyungsoo's made dinner and the two of them are lazing on the couch, Kyungsoo's head on Chanyeol's chest, Kyungsoo has to admit that he's already a little attached to the new additions to their family. "This guy is Suho," Chanyeol says, lifting up the tiny black kitten and resting him gently on Kyungsoo's head. "He keeps grooming the other two."

It's a bit of a silly name, but then Suho starts grooming Kyungsoo and he starts laughing. "Okay," Kyungsoo agrees. "What about the terror twins?"

Once the sleepy grey one had woken up, he and the ginger kitten had rolled around, playfighting roughly enough that it'd left Chanyeol's hands covered with tiny scratches. "How about Sehun?" He's thinking of a kid he went to school with, just as petulant and grumpy as the ginger kitten.

Chanyeol hums quietly, one big hand dragging up and down Kyungsoo's spine. "Okay, sure," he says. "And the grey one?"

On the floor, Sehun meows, and Chanyeol scoops him up, depositing him on his chest in front of Kyungsoo's nose, quickly followed by the last kitten. They scramble around, still tiny and clumsy, Sehun settling against Kyungsoo's throat while the grey kitten slides down until he rests in the crook between Chanyeol's arm and his chest.

"Kai," Chanyeol says finally. "We should call him Kai."

"Kai?" Kyungsoo laughs. "That's stupid." On his head, Suho is purring, and Kyungsoo thinks this is all faintly ridiculous. Three kittens? This isn't a house, it's a zoo.

"It's not!" Chanyeol insists. "It's distinguished."

Kyungsoo snorts, and Chanyeol leans forward, careful not to dislodge anyone. He presses his lips to the top of Kyungsoo's head. "Thank you," he says.

"You're changing the litterbox," Kyungsoo informs him, and Chanyeol's hand tightens on his hip as he laughs.

kris/sehun, pg, 710 words
originally posted here. vague domestic au.

Yifan catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and he barely has time to yank his fingers out of the way before Sehun is lunging forward, slamming his laptop shut with a bang. “I was working on something, you know,” he grumbles. He rubs a hand across his dark hair and yawns.

The look on Sehun's face is completely unrepentant as he folds his long legs up under himself and sits down on the other chair. He's only wearing a ratty pair of sweatpants and he hunches over, looking for some faint sense of warmth. He's so thin, he's never had much meat on his bones, and it's late, too. Yifan must've lost track of the time again. Easy to do, when he's writing. “It's four am,” Sehun informs him, absently rubbing one hand up his arm. “And you're out on the balcony again.”

“So?” Yifan says. He makes a move to open his laptop again but Sehun props a foot up on it instead, and Yifan frowns at him.

“So go to bed, asshole. Normal people aren't alive at this hour.” Sehun rubs at his eyes and wrinkles his nose. The dark circles under his eyes betray the casual tone to his voice, though, and Yifan feels the hint of a smile pull at his lips. Sehun has never been that great an actor.

Yifan carefully grabs Sehun's toes and throws his foot off his poor laptop. “I'm a writer,” he points out. “Staying up stupid late is part of the job.” He likes it, too. In the summer, when it's so late that the streets are empty and the air is cool, everything just feels calm and still. It's perfect like this.

Sehun shivers and rolls his eyes. “Like I said, not fuckin' normal.”

“Shut up,” Yifan says, but there's no heat behind it. He tugs his hoodie off and throws it at Sehun. “What are you whining about?”

Scowling, Sehun pulls on the sweater. “Nothing.”

Well, Yifan's momentum is gone anyway. His mouth twists with a buzz of irritation, but it's never worth staying mad at Sehun anyway. Not when he's sleepy-eyed, long bangs hanging in his face as he valiantly tries to swallow back a yawn. “Don't you have classes to teach tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Sehun says, shrugging a shoulder like tomorrow isn't already here. His hoodie hangs half undone, pale chest and sharp collarbones exposed.

“So, why're you waiting on me?” Yifan shifts to sit at the edge of his seat, rolling his shoulders and neck. He's all stiff from sitting still for so long, his back aching.

Yifan watches as Sehun scratches at the back of his neck. “Dunno. Couldn't sleep.” He's doing that thing where he avoids Yifan's eyes, pulling at the hem of his sweatpants. Even now, his teenage years half a decade behind him, Sehun still turns childish when he's tired.

And he still can't sleep without someone else around. “You could've just asked,” Yifan says, amused. He climbs to his feet and arches his back, letting out a little noise of satisfaction at the stretch. Probably about time to call it a night, anyway. He won't be writing anymore tonight, Sehun saw to that.

“I'm not asking for anything.” Sehun says, feigning confusion.

“Sure.” Grabbing his laptop, Yifan slides heads into the dark quiet of their apartment.

He's barely stowed away his computer when long arms curl around his waist. “Bed,” Sehun says into his shoulder, his chest pressed up against Yifan's spine, warm and solid.

Yifan wraps a hand around Sehun's wrist. “That was the plan,” he says, but he lets Sehun steer him forward, down the hallway to their room.

When they've pulled off their clothes and climbed under the sheets, Sehun nudges Yifan until he rolls over on his side and then slides in after him. Yifan is used to Sehun wrapping himself around him bodily, even in the summer heat. “Now, go to sleep,” Sehun says. “I've gotta wake up early.”

Yifan could argue with him about whose fault it is, but his exhaustion is starting to sink in, and he'd rather just let it go. He feels Sehun press his lips to the juncture between his neck and shoulder and he smiles, letting his eyes slide shut.

[identity profile] 2013-06-04 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
well of course sehun would use the insult /dickweed/ at chanyeol

I fully enjoyed every drabble ty <3 kitties were so cute (suho the cat grooming kyungsoo ahahah)

had sudden krishun feels ugh what?
and prince kris and kai hope they have a happy future together

[identity profile] 2013-06-05 04:00 am (UTC)(link)
it has a definite sehun flavour, doesn't it??

joonmyun would be the CUTEST cat

krishun is a rly great pairing, my bff got me attached to them for no good reason

kris and kai definitely slowly come around to each other and kris takes jongin on long rides with him on the castle grounds and with him on diplomatic missions and sometimes they hold hands under the table and it makes jongin turn red. when kris takes the crown, he almost shuts down under the pressure, becoming cold and distant as he tries to be the best king possible even though he's so young and untried, but jongin comes into his study one night when yifan is going over documents and kisses him until they're both breathless and promises to stay at his side

and then they both live happily ever after the end


[identity profile] 2013-06-05 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
he tries to be the best king possible even though he's so young and untried, but jongin comes into his study one night when yifan is going over documents and kisses him until they're both breathless and promises to stay at his side
my kriskai feels?? OMG sweet

[identity profile] 2013-06-05 03:10 pm (UTC)(link)
i rly love kriskai, they have a rly interesting dynamic n___n

[identity profile] 2013-06-21 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
Oh these were just lovely!

[identity profile] 2013-06-23 03:47 am (UTC)(link)
thank you!!

so good~

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 03:28 am (UTC)(link)
thank you for your writing... you have such a sweet style c: