drabbles in the rough
two tradefics written for galbijiim in return for ze art.
and this is me remembering that i have an lj
love-hate relationship
baeksoo || pg-13 || 2635 words || semi-humor, fluff, dumb banter, slight angst
[secretagent!au] for kyungsoo, what makes killing worthwhile is not the people.
based off [this]
kyungsoo kind of hates his job.
though not enough to quit. there were perks that held enough incentive to stay. like the prestige, the pay, the ability to travel all around the world.
for instance, he thinks as he tiredly scans the Mediterranean coastline in the light of the evening sun waning gently over the mountains behind, this million-dollar view was to kill for.
but still the hours were shit. the turnover rate was insane, the stress levels were astronomical. he always had to pretend to be someone he was not, and in the end none of the clients were ever happy to see him anyway. the competition existed to kill him, literally. and every day or so he went home with blood on his hands, also literally.
of course as a secret agent, those were but mere elements of his job description. and so really, those other things he could handle with more or less of a complaint.
what really irked him though, kyungsoo savagely thought as begins to lift his grenade launcher to balance it against his shoulder, were his coworkers.
“hi,” a voice whispers into kyungsoo’s ear. “i just finished contacting clean up. ride’ll be here soon, chen said he’s just past madrid.”
"please,” kyungsoo deadpans as baekhyun ducks and pops up in between his arms and loops a loose arm around kyungsoo's shoulder, handgun lightly hitting his back as baekhyun allows his wrist to flop uselessly. “keep your mug least a foot away from mine while we’re out here."
baekhyun’s face looms in kyungsoo’s vision, and with smiling eyes mere inches away from kyungsoo’s own, his face is dangerously close.
"ahhahh, aw kyungsoo…lighten up,” baekhyun chuckles slightly as wobbles forward, placing a hand against kyungsoo’s lapel for support, fingers shaking as he curls them into the fabric. baekhyun's understandably weak and slightly loopy-extreme blood loss tends to do that to a man, and it probably doesn’t help that he’s been dripping red for over an hour-but his touch, his tone, his expression are all still very cavalier. irritatingly cavalier, a vein in kyungsoo's temple throbs as baekhyun jokingly lifts a leg like a smitten dame. “don’t be like that."
“if you hadn’t fucked part of the mission up, i wouldn’t be,” kyungsoo blinks. “but you did, so here we are. how’s your hand?”"
“okay, how was i supposed to know there was a trip sensor at his bedroom door,” baekhyun squints at his hand as he wiggles his fingers. “and bloody. worse for wear.”
“oh i don’t know,” kyungsoo drawls sarcastically. “but maybe from the fucking field notes if you bothered to read them like you’re supposed to. we do pay tao for a reason other than to take shitty selcas all day.”
“oh,” baekhyun opens his eyes wide, raising his voice in mock astonishment. “he works?”
“yes. he gave us eighty pages of debriefing material this time. did you even look at it?”
“…uh…yes…”
“really?” skepticism weaves itself into kyungsoo’s expression. “you didn’t know the method of elimination.”
“I mean I read some of it?”
“or the name of our target.”
“casually flipped through the summary?”
“you even asked me what country we were working in.”
“okay that one was a joke.”
“no,” kyungsoo bites his lower lip as he shakes his head. “i’m pretty sure you were serious.”
“you think so little of me.”
“well,” kyungsoo shrugs, looking off into the barcelona sunset. “i mean I wasn’t the one genuinely wondering why we were here when we stepped off the plane.”
“…fine. no I did not even touch the field notes,” baekhyun breaks out into rueful grin. “shoot me.”
the grunt kyungsoo manages to elicit from baekhyun when he steps on his foot is oddly satisfying, “you’re not worth the bullets.”
baekhyun laughs loudly for a second, mirthfully beating kyungsoo’s chest with a loosely curled fist, distracting actions almost allowing his winces to go unnoticed. but kyungsoo has a keen eye for these kind of things and he easily picks up the subtleties, like how baekhyun's popped collar is actually an impromptu bandage for a deep graze dangerously close to his jugular, how there’s a welling, purple bruise loosely hidden by his frayed collar, how a drop of dark red runs down the side of his jaw unchecked, how through the drifting, occupational scent of blood he smells like he's using armani's acqua di gio and it’s kinda nice and-wait what-
“well I didn’t totally fuck up,” baekhyun wipes the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. “maybe there was a little more fanfare than necessary-“
“considering the fact that we’re agents,” kyungsoo cuts in. “can I remind you there’s supposed to be absolutely no fanfare.”
“oops,” baekhyun shrugs. “but hey, kris is dead. mission accomplished”
“you know if you call him by something other than his real name, it'll help you cope,” kyungsoo says, mild concern prompting his words. “i may be giving you a hard time with the execution, but be easy on yourself on the emotional side.”
baekhyun turns the side for a minute, watching something out on the side for a second before snickering and turning back to kyungsoo.
"hey wouldn't it be funny if i got the orders to kill you one day," baekhyun murmurs, thin grin laced on his lips. baekhyun's face is really too close, and the subtle scent of spearmint wafts lightly over kyungsoo. that smells nice too. but he’s soon distracted by baekhyun lazily slipping his arm off of kyungsoo shoulder and curling it around until he lightly prods kyungsoo in the back of the head with barrel of his handgun, "like you went rogue like kris, start selling information or some other traitorous shit like that, and then they send me after you. that would be two friends in a year.”
and that’s when kyungsoo decides that the combination sleep deprivation, grief and blood loss had gotten to the best of baekhyun, and he had been tugged by all three straight into lunacy.
"get the gun away from my head," kyungsoo says monotonously, expression pointedly unfazed.
it’s not so much where the gun is aimed that worries him right now, as it is his faith in baekhyun’s current fine motor abilities. out of the corner of his eyes he sees the forefinger of baekhyun’s left hand involuntarily seize and for a second he reflects on how appreciative he is of having his brains securely sitting in his skull rather than accidently spattered over the ground. in all honesty, if he was going to get his head getting blown off, at the very least he would like it done by a highly-skilled enemy gunman, not by an accidental muscle spasm from an unwitting ally. that’d just be insulting.
"of course that would require you to go rogue in the first place, but i think it'd be hilarious, like sending me to assassinate you," baekhyun's hand is impulsively shaking, a byproduct of settling trauma and the mounting pain of several sustained injuries. kyungsoo doesn't even need to turn around to tell. the head of gun is trembling violently against the tips of his hair and he can feel the tremors tickling all the way to his undyed roots. baekhyun continues, a little morbidly, through the smile plastered on his face, "do you think i'd be able to pull it off?"
kyungsoo stares ahead, nonplussed. though internally he’s relieved when baekhyun pulls the gun away from his head.
"just like a quick, pah," baekhyun jerks the gun, accidently knocking kyungsoo in the head. "and you're over."
"please," kyungsoo repeats through his teeth, wincing slightly as he bolsters his grip on his own weapon. "get the gun away from my head."
"hey," baekhyun says, irritatingly cavalier tone returning to his voice. "would you kill me?"
and kyungsoo can see through the superficial silliness enough to know it’s a serious question. but he’s tired to the point of being kind of done with being conscious right now, and really he lacks the will or the want to deal with a goddamn heart-to-heart right now and so he quickly quips, “yes. i would in a heartbeat. especially if you don’t get that fucking gun away from my head thank you very much.”
"oh so mean. It’s weird though, I really don't think I could kill you," baekhyun cocks his head to the side. there's a quick click, and kyungsoo's not entirely sure whether baekhyun is flicking the safety on or off. there’s a degree of solemnity that ebbs into baekhyun voice and puts an uncomfortable strain to it, and to match, his smile slips slightly, "like even though I just managed to raze down kris, even though i can physically point a gun to your head, i can't even think about pulling the trigger. isn't that funny?”
"not as funny as the mark i'm going to make on your face if you don’t drop the gun in the next five seconds,” kyungsoo says lightly.
“um,” any seriousness suddenly evaporates from baekhyun's expression and he laughs, more genuinely this time as he looks down at kyungsoo's arms looped around his waist, twisting around slightly to look at the gun clasped in kyungsoo’s hands behind his own back, and to kyungsoo’s relief, baekhyun drops the topic, "call me crazy but i'm out of your range."
"you'd be surprised how effective blunt-force trauma can be," kyungsoo retorts dryly. “two seconds.”
"hmmm...okay," baekhyun's eyes go a little unfocused as he shifts his gaze from kyungsoo's eyes to his lips. his grip goes slack as he hoists his arm back over kyungsoo’s shoulder, the gun dangling from his hand and lightly hitting kyungsoo’s back again. "hey, can I kiss you right now?"
“what?”
“it’d make me feel better.”
“now? no,” kyungsoo’s eyes grow wide and he leans away.
“…no?” baekhyun looks surprised. “it woud make me, you know, help me cope emotionally.”
“no.”
“why?”
“we’re on a mission right now.”
“if I recall correctly,” baekhyun squints. “yesterday we were on this same mission and you were okay with it. really okay with it.”
“yeah, but, right now we’re in public.”
“so?” baekhyun scans the empty rooftop they’re on. “and wait…”
“chen’s coming soon and I don’t really want to be seen with you.”
“um it’s a bit too late for that,” baekhyun looks back down at kyungsoo’s arms. “considering we’re like this right now. like physically next to each other. kinda hard to not be seen with me right now, if you know what I mean.”
“I mean like with you. I’d rather have a few as possible people know about us.”
“oh. um, hey this is a good natural segue into this, because I was going to tell you anyway,” baekhyun’s eyes dart around nervously. “but, uh, it’s kinda too late for that too.”
“…what?”
“um…like…I might have said something about us like seeing each other or something…?” baekhyun ruefully peters off. “to like one or two people back at the headquarters…or nine…”
kyungsoo gapes in horror, already mourning the loss of his dating street cred.
“i didn’t say we were in a relationship, because you made it very clear how you didn’t like the label,” baekhyun quickly backpedals, throwing up a defensive hand. “and i didn’t even say we were dating. just like, maybe mentioned it here and there that we’re seeing each other. like…because we are right?”
“privately. what part of privately do you not understand?”
“um, well maybe it’s not that bad. like you could even interpret that as like literally seeing each other, like you know…actually perceiving each other with our eyes…”
“oh fucking hell, I can’t believe you. fuck, suho’s never going to let this go,” kyungsoo groans. “did you say anything else?”
“to suho? no.”
“…’to suho’…” kyungsoo gives baekhyun a look, “…what was that qualifier for…?”
“oh. um. uh,” baekhyun chuckles nervously. “I might have let it slip to someone…that, um, we’resleepingtogether-“
“let it slip to who?” kyungsoo interrupts, voice dangerously low.
“um…” baekhyun awkwardly shifts. “does it matter?”
“it does.”
“to…chen?” baekhyun says in a small voice.
“oh, so, great,” kyungsoo lowers the gun and covers his face with his hand. “basically the entire agency knows.”
“well I mean I technically only told chen-“
“fucking please,” kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “you know that telling chen is equivalent to screaming it out over intercom.”
“um…I’m sorry?”
“fucking should be.”
“but…I feel like…”
“stop. you’re ruining the good will from your apology,” kyungsoo holds up a finger in irritation, before covering his face again,
letting the launcher swing freely in his other hand. “shut up so I can figure out how to go about damage control.”
“I feel like…” baekhyun looks slightly frustrated. “if you didn’t like the idea of being with me this much, you didn’t have to like agree to anything, because I’m really not trying to force you into this or-“
“look I genuinely like being with you,” kyungsoo mumbles monotonously into his palm before he looks up from his hand, and his face is burning slightly from the cheesiness of the confession (but baekhyun looks a lot happier), but he gets over it quickly. “but there are ways to go about this without giving more social arsenal to certain individuals. like people specifically named chen and suho. oh and tao. fuck I forgot about tao.”
baekhyun bites his bottom lip, “if it helps, as far as they know we’re just friends with benefits.”
“how exactly is that supposed to help?”
“...oh…um…“
“just let me do the talking when we get home.” kyungsoo groans as he spots the helicopter approaching. when it nears, kyungsoo can make out chen at the wheel, a creepy, knowing smile plastered on his face.
it was going to be a long ride back.
“so since the damage’s been done anyway,” baekhyun raises his voice over the sound of the propeller. “…can I kiss you now?”
"now?” kyungsoo begins to lift his gun threateningly, jabbing it in the direction of their aggravating audience of one. “do you want me to kill you?"
"not really, but hey, yolo right?" baekhyun shrugs and suddenly shrinks that distance to a solid zero.
"you clearly," kyungsoo begins to lift the gun when baekhyun pulls away. "want me to kill you."
“you’re worth it?” baekhyun smiles as wide as his mouth allows, and even after everything it still sends an electric zing to kyungsoo’s heart. “because I’d catch a grenade for you.”
kyungsoo blinks at baekhyun.
“Haha get it,” baekhyun yells, barely audible over the thunderous vehicle. “because you have a grenade launcher and then Bruno Mars and because-”
“I get it,” kyungsoo lets go of the launcher with one hand and smacks baekhyun lightly on the head. “I’m too tired to laugh but I think it’s funny.”
baekhyun’s next words get lost in the roar as the helicopter begins to descend, but it doesn’t matter because kyungsoo’s pretty sure it’s something stupid like ‘I love you.’
and so kyungsoo gives in, closing his eyes this time as baekhyun leans in again, hair flying every which way in the propeller-generated wind. and he can feel baekhyun smile against his lips and it’s a weird assurance that things, just vaguely all his worries, will turn out okay. and maybe that’s why kyungsoo put up with baekhyun, like because he had a weird calming effect that he could unleash with a few choice words, and even if kyungsoo refused to show it, it set him at a temporary ease. which was nice.
and kyungsoo begins to think that hey maybe this thing they had could work in public, and maybe chen would be a little more mature that kyungsoo gave him credit for, and maybe-
kyungsoo spots chen snickering out of the corner of his eye as he holds up his phone in their direction, presumably to snap a photo. kyungsoo quickly shoves baekhyun away, but too late, and chen’s already scrutinizing his phone, probably forwarding the photo to everyone and their mothers.
these were the people he had to deal with.
man, he hates his job.
~o~
a/n:
lol i think i only have two character types and sub them into different personas OTL
also the world needs more baeksoo.
o
between premium and regular
chankai || pg-13, or pg even lol idk || 2.8 k || fluff || TUMBLR REPOST
kai falls in love at first sight at a gas station.
The thing about being 16 years old, at least in California, is that there’s one defining distinguisher, one perennial accomplishment, one decisive determinant that distinguishes the class cool from the nubs.
And the way that cool factor is awarded, a recently-turned-sixteen Kai thinks with a smirk as he smoothly pulls out of the parking lot to the tune of the petroleum-induced purr of his second-tier sports car, rolling down his window with a lazy push of a button to throw a walking Sehun a derisive wave (he receives his friend’s approval in the flippant form of the bird back), is via the possession of a flimsy plastic card that grants state authorization to solely man a car.
Of course with great power comes great responsibility, and so alongside the privilege to drive exists the necessity to fill up a gas tank-something that Kai had never attempted before.
So when he looks at his dash and the needle points precariously close to “empty,” a slight chill runs down his spine. With a dash of embarrassment and/or shame, he realizes he has no idea how to get gas.
o
When he pulls up to a station, there’s a lanky guy already waiting at the adjacent pump leaning against his beat-up sedan, arms folded across his chest and right hand slackly supporting a smart phone as petroleum pumps progressively into his car. His casual look appears carefully assembled, both print-screen t-shirt and jeans loose but fitting, big ears peeking out from a head of carefully styled hair.
He looks up when Kai pulls into the station, if only to make sure Kai doesn’t hit his car, eyes warily trained down on the hood as it approaches his own ride, his ongoing wince belaying the fact that he is well aware of the size of Kai’s engine and his general displeasure with ear-splitting roar it’s making.
And that’s probably about when Kai falls just a little bit in love, like not the one fell swoop brand of love, but more like a substantial divot delivered to his heart by the head of a well-placed axe swing type of love, the kind of love you feel in the first two seconds when you see a fucking attractive stranger with a face (just your type) lounging fucking attractively against the side of his unattractive car and you kind of want to make sure you, yourself, appear easily as fucking attractive to him as he is to you.
So Kai is more or less extremely self conscious when he turns the engine off with a practiced flick of his wrist, opens the door, and smoothly steps out into the bright spring sun (and the heat of the guy’s gaze).
His heart skips several beats when he see’s the guy’s eyes flick up. Kai can practically feel the guy’s eyes track him, wide and unblinking, astutely observing as Kai swaggers towards the pump. As Kai rounds the front of his car, out of the corner of his eye he can see the guy’s eyebrows rise slightly, and his mouth crack open.
“Uh,” a deep voice utters, with a jolt of excitement, Kai realizes the guy is actually speaking to him, fuck, the guy’s voice is really nice too, “…uh…excuse me.”
“Yeah?” Kai turns with the intent to come across suave, dropping his voice half an octave and rotating his head with practiced smoothness. He raises an impassively inquisitive brow, just one, the left one, to add to the effect.
“Uh…you dropped your keys,” the guy points a finger down at the ground, where the pile of sun-glittering pieces of metal is lying innocuously next to the driver’s side wheel. He laughs, huge smile overtaking his face, left eye unintentionally winking, “Just thought you’d like to know.”
“Oh, I dropped them,” Kai repeats rather dumbly, a light burning sensation seeping into the tips of his ears, more than likely accompanied by a telltale shade of embarrassment pink. It’s only when he awkwardly shuffles over and stoops to scoop up his keys that he thinks to add a gruff, tsundere, “Thanks.”
The guy doesn’t respond, and when Kai gets up and turns around, (to Kai’s further disappointment) the guy is no longer watching him, and is instead again engrossed in some content on his phone, lips curving into a rather aesthetic grin accompanied by a series soft snickers as he finds something displayed on his screen a little more than mildly funny.
And so Kai is left with a bit of imminent mortification and the burning trepidation due to his still-unfinished task at hand-to fill up his gas tank for the first time in his life.
When he gets to the kiosk, it is slightly overwhelming, the number of gas options and the blaring monitor overhead doing little to help make sense out of anything. Luckily the user-interface on the gas pump is straightforward, and since Kai can read, he’s able to get past the part where he opens his tank and sticks his credit card in without much of a hitch.
Of course, that was the easy park. The next part, selecting the gas type, is much more confusing, and Kai stands dumbly at the kiosk for a good five minutes, dizzying himself as he scrutinizes each of the buttons. After several stressful minutes, Kai decides to go with diesel, on the basis that it sounds “strong.”
He reaches out a hand, ready to hit the button before hand materializes out of nowhere and snatches his wrist before he can push down.
“Uh…excuse me, you won’t want to put in diesel.”
Kai slowly traces the arm back to its owner, eyes taking in a built arm, before meeting a wide and blinking, and more than a little concerned, pair of eyes belonging to the attractive guy.
And he’s at a loss for words.
Up close, he looks amazing about two years older than Kai, a senior in high school, an observation made by the general exudation of ease of a man already aware of where he was spending the next four years of his life. This fact was physically reinforced by the words on his t-shirt (SEN13RZ, so fresh, so clean, we’re class of 13).
And Kai’s a little miffed about how he has to look up to see his face, but this is more than made up by the fact that the guy’s face is easy to look at, soft brown hair matching his eyes, the rest of his features aesthetically proportioned and lined up on his face.
“Your car’s not going to run,” the guy continues to babble once Kai tunes back into reality. He hasn’t let go of Kai’s wrist, prompting pleasant tingles to skip up his arm, “And you’re going to have a huge mess on your hands. Diesel is a like a different consistency from Petrol gases, so it won’t combust in your engine very well, if it does at all.”
“Ah.” Kai has barely any idea what the guy is saying, but his voice is really nice. So are his eyes.
“Is this your first time getting gas?”
“…sort of.”
The guy gives him a look.
“Yes,” Kai awkwardly admits, and he hates how high his voice sounds at that moment.
“…Do you need help?”
And really Kai’s kind of conflicted, torn between equally-weighted desires of wanting to appear competent and wanting
“Do you need help?” The guy repeats earnestly. “I can help you.”
“…Yes, I’d like that.”
The guy finally lets go of Kai’s wrist and sighs, running a few fingers through his hair, expression a mixture of slight amusement and mock exasperation.
“You’re going to want to choose from these three pumps,” the guy jabs a finger towards the other pumps. “The difference depends on the type of car you’re filling. The numbers relate to the octane levels.”
“Uh huh.” Kai’s already confused.
“To oversimplify, the higher the octane level, the more compression the fuel can stand before combusting, and as a general rule, higher compression engines are found in higher performance cars, which yours…” the guy’s eyes flick over to Kai’s shiny ride, before he points to the pump labeled ’93,’ “…most likely is. So it’s best to use that one over there…”
And that’s about when Kai gets lost in the guy’s bright brown eyes, because they’re really nice, and his mind slips into a rose-hued haze as he phases out the world, including the words coming from the guy’s mouth, in favor of staring at the guy’s face, the lull of the guy’s voice-a stream of deep-toned, meaningless melodic murmurs-washing over his ears.
“…are you even listening? Here,” the guy suddenly grabs Kai’s hand and then gently, but firmly, wraps Kai’s fingers around the handle of the pump nozzle before stepping back and crossing his arms. “Start getting gas.”
“Uh,” Kai snaps out of his daze and snatches the nozzle off the rack out of reflex, blinking dumbly at apparatus in his hand then glancing up and blinking dumbly at the guy.
“And now stick it in your gas tank,” the guy points to the tank entrance on Kai’s car.
Kai turns around awkwardly, cumbersomely flipping 180 degrees with the nozzle in hand to face his car. He stares at the hole for a minute before tentatively sliding the apparatus into his car and glancing back up at the guy for approval.
“Is it secure?” The guy uncrosses his arms for a moment and makes a jiggling motion with an imaginary nozzle with his hand. “Check it.”
Kai gives the nozzle two limp shakes before obediently looking back up at the guy.
The guy shakes his head with more mock exasperation, snickering lightly as he bends his head slightly and allowing his hair to cover a majority of his growing smile.
“You’re helpless,” the guy lightly sighs through the grin on his lips. He pauses for a moment, running a few fingers through his hair before stepping forward. “Here lemme check.”
“Am not helpless.” Kai sputters in indignation a few beats too late, mind beginning to stutter as the guy approaches.
“Sure, if you say so,” the guy laughs, raising his eyes unconvincingly. He puts a hand on Kai’s shoulder for balance before he tries to pass behind him.
That’s about when Kai’s awkwardness kicks it on overdrive, and in some misguided and spontaneous attempt to make a little bit of room, he steps backwards right as the guy tries to scoot past. The collision is forceful enough to cause both of them lose their balance. The guy hastily attempts to regain his balance through simultaneously grabbing Kai by both shoulders and stepping backwards, only to trip on the ledge and send both of them falling to the ground (but not before the guy accidently slams his head against the kiosk on an ungainly descent).
It happens too quickly for Kai to process anything until after the fact, roughly the moment when he turns slightly and realizes the guy’s face is less than a foot away from his own.
“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little fast,” the guy jokes, laughing slightly before wincing and bringing a hand to rub the back of his head. “Ouch.”
Kai’s face immediately flares. He looks away quickly, dimly wondering why he himself wasn’t in more pain, until he catches sight of a pair of gangly legs under his own. With another bout of embaressment, he realizes he’s comfortably seated in the guy’s lap.
“You know, any day now, whenever you feel like getting up,” the guy bites his lip, mostly likely to prevent his face from exploding into its peculiarly attractive grin. “Just let me know. Sooner, preferably to later.”
“Sorry,” Kai mutters, and bolts up immediately.
“No problem,” the guy gets up slowly, dusting off his jeans and examining his hands. He glances at the nozzle for a second, hooking a finger around the handle and giving it a secure tug. “Yep. It’s all good to go. So now pull the lever up, yeah like that, and lock it in place…”
When Kai triumphantly hits the gas button on the kiosk, he feels an air of finality, accompanied by a twinge of regret when he turns around. Kai doesn’t want to guy to leave, but there really isn’t a reason for the guy to stick around anymore, his main purpose having been served, and his own gas tank long full. He looked a slightly out of place, and if Kai wasn’t hallucinating, a little disappointed too.
“So uh…thanks,” Kai awkwardly sticks out his hand for a handshake, an oddly adult gesture that looks strange with his teenage hand. But he really wants to leave with a mature impression, and so he throws in a serious expression to match.
“No problem,” the guy grabs Kai’s hand and shakes it enthusiastically. “I’m Chanyeol by the way.”
“Ah,” Kai’s feels like his arm’s going to fall off. “Uh…I’m Kai.”
“Kai,” Chanyeol repeats. “I like your name.”
Kai’s slightly taken aback, and he feels his face start to warm again, “Uh…thanks.”
“Oh, and I couldn’t help but notice,” Chanyeol points at Kai’s front window, where his high school parking permit is neatly placed for display. “I think we go to the same school?”
“We do?” Kai blinks, before realizing (with a skip of his heart), that it was indeed his high school labeled on the guy’s shirt. “Oh, we do.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol gives a small woot, “Go wolves?”
“Haha yeah.” And suddenly Kai’s world brightens just a bit, because since they were getting along pretty well, there are all sorts of possibilities now, like he’d actually have chances to get to know Chanyeol better, maybe even become close friends, maybe even fall in-
“Sooo,” Chanyeol interrupts Kai’s escalating fantasy. “What year are you?”
“Sophomore,” Kai glances down at Chanyeol’s shirt and points to it. “And I’m guessing you’re a…senior?”
“Yes, very observant of you,” Chanyeol laughs harder at that than Kai expected, throwing in a knee slap and crinkling his eyes.
Though the apparent joke was completely unintentional, Kai feels a small twinge of pride for eliciting Chanyeol’s reaction, though he has a sneaking suspicion Chanyeol is quicker to laugh than most. But like Chanyeol’s smile, his laugh is infectious, and Kai finds himself joining in with subdued snickers of his own.
“I try.” Kai smiles and the conversation peters off. He kicks himself internally for not having anything witty to say back.
“Um also…” Chanyeol shuffles awkwardly for a moment. “Could I ask for a favor?”
“Sure,” Kai says a little too quickly.
“Can I borrow your phone?” Chanyeol sheepishly holds up his own. “My battery died and I need to make a call.”
And suddenly Kai’s paranoid side kicks in and everything seems like it was a rouse to use his phone. He begins to plummet from his high. It makes sense, like a friendly favor exchange, and suddenly everything seems just a bit superficial.
“Yeah, sure,” Kai holds out his phone, sounding slightly dejected, and Chanyeol carefully takes it.
“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asks, subtle worry woven into his tone. Because his eyes are trained at the round, Kai can’t see his expression, but he imagines that it’s over-animatedly scrunched in concern.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
It’s quiet for a minute and Chanyeol fiddles with his phone for a little bit before putting it up to his ear. Suddenly Chanyeol’s own phone begins to vibrate in his hand.
“Wait your phone wasn’t dead…” Kai trails of confusedly.
“Yeah it wasn’t,” a grin spreads across Chanyeol’s face again and he sticks the tip of his tongue out between his teeth as he begins to type something into his own phone. “Say what’s your last name?”
“Kim…but I still don’t get it.”
“That’s a common last name.” Chanyeol ignores Kai.
“Well yeah, I’m like one of 10 million, but seriously, why were you calling yourself?”
“Hmm,” Chanyeol hands Kai’s phone back to him, lips pursed contemplatively.
He stares out at empty space somewhere over Kai’s should for a few moments.
“I just wanted your number, I guess?” Chanyeol finally shrugs, smiling wider than before, displaying a wealth of teeth that lights up his whole face as he reaches out a hand and ruffles Kai’s hair.
“R-really?” Is the only thing Kai manages to lamely say, as his heart begins to race again.
“Haha yea,” Chanyeol saunters back to his car with a two-fingered wave, “So I’ll call you?”
Kai feels his face heat up for the umpteenth time. He mutters, “But you’ll probably see me at school tomorrow.”
“Yeah…but I’m going to call you anyway,” Chanyeol winks before slipping into his car, abandoning Kai, dumbfounded and alone, heart drumming rapidly in his ears.
(And in about 42 minutes, not that Kai was counting nor checking his phone every two minutes or anything, Chanyeol does.)
~o~
and this is me remembering that i have an lj
love-hate relationship
baeksoo || pg-13 || 2635 words || semi-humor, fluff, dumb banter, slight angst
[secretagent!au] for kyungsoo, what makes killing worthwhile is not the people.
based off [this]
kyungsoo kind of hates his job.
though not enough to quit. there were perks that held enough incentive to stay. like the prestige, the pay, the ability to travel all around the world.
for instance, he thinks as he tiredly scans the Mediterranean coastline in the light of the evening sun waning gently over the mountains behind, this million-dollar view was to kill for.
but still the hours were shit. the turnover rate was insane, the stress levels were astronomical. he always had to pretend to be someone he was not, and in the end none of the clients were ever happy to see him anyway. the competition existed to kill him, literally. and every day or so he went home with blood on his hands, also literally.
of course as a secret agent, those were but mere elements of his job description. and so really, those other things he could handle with more or less of a complaint.
what really irked him though, kyungsoo savagely thought as begins to lift his grenade launcher to balance it against his shoulder, were his coworkers.
“hi,” a voice whispers into kyungsoo’s ear. “i just finished contacting clean up. ride’ll be here soon, chen said he’s just past madrid.”
"please,” kyungsoo deadpans as baekhyun ducks and pops up in between his arms and loops a loose arm around kyungsoo's shoulder, handgun lightly hitting his back as baekhyun allows his wrist to flop uselessly. “keep your mug least a foot away from mine while we’re out here."
baekhyun’s face looms in kyungsoo’s vision, and with smiling eyes mere inches away from kyungsoo’s own, his face is dangerously close.
"ahhahh, aw kyungsoo…lighten up,” baekhyun chuckles slightly as wobbles forward, placing a hand against kyungsoo’s lapel for support, fingers shaking as he curls them into the fabric. baekhyun's understandably weak and slightly loopy-extreme blood loss tends to do that to a man, and it probably doesn’t help that he’s been dripping red for over an hour-but his touch, his tone, his expression are all still very cavalier. irritatingly cavalier, a vein in kyungsoo's temple throbs as baekhyun jokingly lifts a leg like a smitten dame. “don’t be like that."
“if you hadn’t fucked part of the mission up, i wouldn’t be,” kyungsoo blinks. “but you did, so here we are. how’s your hand?”"
“okay, how was i supposed to know there was a trip sensor at his bedroom door,” baekhyun squints at his hand as he wiggles his fingers. “and bloody. worse for wear.”
“oh i don’t know,” kyungsoo drawls sarcastically. “but maybe from the fucking field notes if you bothered to read them like you’re supposed to. we do pay tao for a reason other than to take shitty selcas all day.”
“oh,” baekhyun opens his eyes wide, raising his voice in mock astonishment. “he works?”
“yes. he gave us eighty pages of debriefing material this time. did you even look at it?”
“…uh…yes…”
“really?” skepticism weaves itself into kyungsoo’s expression. “you didn’t know the method of elimination.”
“I mean I read some of it?”
“or the name of our target.”
“casually flipped through the summary?”
“you even asked me what country we were working in.”
“okay that one was a joke.”
“no,” kyungsoo bites his lower lip as he shakes his head. “i’m pretty sure you were serious.”
“you think so little of me.”
“well,” kyungsoo shrugs, looking off into the barcelona sunset. “i mean I wasn’t the one genuinely wondering why we were here when we stepped off the plane.”
“…fine. no I did not even touch the field notes,” baekhyun breaks out into rueful grin. “shoot me.”
the grunt kyungsoo manages to elicit from baekhyun when he steps on his foot is oddly satisfying, “you’re not worth the bullets.”
baekhyun laughs loudly for a second, mirthfully beating kyungsoo’s chest with a loosely curled fist, distracting actions almost allowing his winces to go unnoticed. but kyungsoo has a keen eye for these kind of things and he easily picks up the subtleties, like how baekhyun's popped collar is actually an impromptu bandage for a deep graze dangerously close to his jugular, how there’s a welling, purple bruise loosely hidden by his frayed collar, how a drop of dark red runs down the side of his jaw unchecked, how through the drifting, occupational scent of blood he smells like he's using armani's acqua di gio and it’s kinda nice and-wait what-
“well I didn’t totally fuck up,” baekhyun wipes the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. “maybe there was a little more fanfare than necessary-“
“considering the fact that we’re agents,” kyungsoo cuts in. “can I remind you there’s supposed to be absolutely no fanfare.”
“oops,” baekhyun shrugs. “but hey, kris is dead. mission accomplished”
“you know if you call him by something other than his real name, it'll help you cope,” kyungsoo says, mild concern prompting his words. “i may be giving you a hard time with the execution, but be easy on yourself on the emotional side.”
baekhyun turns the side for a minute, watching something out on the side for a second before snickering and turning back to kyungsoo.
"hey wouldn't it be funny if i got the orders to kill you one day," baekhyun murmurs, thin grin laced on his lips. baekhyun's face is really too close, and the subtle scent of spearmint wafts lightly over kyungsoo. that smells nice too. but he’s soon distracted by baekhyun lazily slipping his arm off of kyungsoo shoulder and curling it around until he lightly prods kyungsoo in the back of the head with barrel of his handgun, "like you went rogue like kris, start selling information or some other traitorous shit like that, and then they send me after you. that would be two friends in a year.”
and that’s when kyungsoo decides that the combination sleep deprivation, grief and blood loss had gotten to the best of baekhyun, and he had been tugged by all three straight into lunacy.
"get the gun away from my head," kyungsoo says monotonously, expression pointedly unfazed.
it’s not so much where the gun is aimed that worries him right now, as it is his faith in baekhyun’s current fine motor abilities. out of the corner of his eyes he sees the forefinger of baekhyun’s left hand involuntarily seize and for a second he reflects on how appreciative he is of having his brains securely sitting in his skull rather than accidently spattered over the ground. in all honesty, if he was going to get his head getting blown off, at the very least he would like it done by a highly-skilled enemy gunman, not by an accidental muscle spasm from an unwitting ally. that’d just be insulting.
"of course that would require you to go rogue in the first place, but i think it'd be hilarious, like sending me to assassinate you," baekhyun's hand is impulsively shaking, a byproduct of settling trauma and the mounting pain of several sustained injuries. kyungsoo doesn't even need to turn around to tell. the head of gun is trembling violently against the tips of his hair and he can feel the tremors tickling all the way to his undyed roots. baekhyun continues, a little morbidly, through the smile plastered on his face, "do you think i'd be able to pull it off?"
kyungsoo stares ahead, nonplussed. though internally he’s relieved when baekhyun pulls the gun away from his head.
"just like a quick, pah," baekhyun jerks the gun, accidently knocking kyungsoo in the head. "and you're over."
"please," kyungsoo repeats through his teeth, wincing slightly as he bolsters his grip on his own weapon. "get the gun away from my head."
"hey," baekhyun says, irritatingly cavalier tone returning to his voice. "would you kill me?"
and kyungsoo can see through the superficial silliness enough to know it’s a serious question. but he’s tired to the point of being kind of done with being conscious right now, and really he lacks the will or the want to deal with a goddamn heart-to-heart right now and so he quickly quips, “yes. i would in a heartbeat. especially if you don’t get that fucking gun away from my head thank you very much.”
"oh so mean. It’s weird though, I really don't think I could kill you," baekhyun cocks his head to the side. there's a quick click, and kyungsoo's not entirely sure whether baekhyun is flicking the safety on or off. there’s a degree of solemnity that ebbs into baekhyun voice and puts an uncomfortable strain to it, and to match, his smile slips slightly, "like even though I just managed to raze down kris, even though i can physically point a gun to your head, i can't even think about pulling the trigger. isn't that funny?”
"not as funny as the mark i'm going to make on your face if you don’t drop the gun in the next five seconds,” kyungsoo says lightly.
“um,” any seriousness suddenly evaporates from baekhyun's expression and he laughs, more genuinely this time as he looks down at kyungsoo's arms looped around his waist, twisting around slightly to look at the gun clasped in kyungsoo’s hands behind his own back, and to kyungsoo’s relief, baekhyun drops the topic, "call me crazy but i'm out of your range."
"you'd be surprised how effective blunt-force trauma can be," kyungsoo retorts dryly. “two seconds.”
"hmmm...okay," baekhyun's eyes go a little unfocused as he shifts his gaze from kyungsoo's eyes to his lips. his grip goes slack as he hoists his arm back over kyungsoo’s shoulder, the gun dangling from his hand and lightly hitting kyungsoo’s back again. "hey, can I kiss you right now?"
“what?”
“it’d make me feel better.”
“now? no,” kyungsoo’s eyes grow wide and he leans away.
“…no?” baekhyun looks surprised. “it woud make me, you know, help me cope emotionally.”
“no.”
“why?”
“we’re on a mission right now.”
“if I recall correctly,” baekhyun squints. “yesterday we were on this same mission and you were okay with it. really okay with it.”
“yeah, but, right now we’re in public.”
“so?” baekhyun scans the empty rooftop they’re on. “and wait…”
“chen’s coming soon and I don’t really want to be seen with you.”
“um it’s a bit too late for that,” baekhyun looks back down at kyungsoo’s arms. “considering we’re like this right now. like physically next to each other. kinda hard to not be seen with me right now, if you know what I mean.”
“I mean like with you. I’d rather have a few as possible people know about us.”
“oh. um, hey this is a good natural segue into this, because I was going to tell you anyway,” baekhyun’s eyes dart around nervously. “but, uh, it’s kinda too late for that too.”
“…what?”
“um…like…I might have said something about us like seeing each other or something…?” baekhyun ruefully peters off. “to like one or two people back at the headquarters…or nine…”
kyungsoo gapes in horror, already mourning the loss of his dating street cred.
“i didn’t say we were in a relationship, because you made it very clear how you didn’t like the label,” baekhyun quickly backpedals, throwing up a defensive hand. “and i didn’t even say we were dating. just like, maybe mentioned it here and there that we’re seeing each other. like…because we are right?”
“privately. what part of privately do you not understand?”
“um, well maybe it’s not that bad. like you could even interpret that as like literally seeing each other, like you know…actually perceiving each other with our eyes…”
“oh fucking hell, I can’t believe you. fuck, suho’s never going to let this go,” kyungsoo groans. “did you say anything else?”
“to suho? no.”
“…’to suho’…” kyungsoo gives baekhyun a look, “…what was that qualifier for…?”
“oh. um. uh,” baekhyun chuckles nervously. “I might have let it slip to someone…that, um, we’resleepingtogether-“
“let it slip to who?” kyungsoo interrupts, voice dangerously low.
“um…” baekhyun awkwardly shifts. “does it matter?”
“it does.”
“to…chen?” baekhyun says in a small voice.
“oh, so, great,” kyungsoo lowers the gun and covers his face with his hand. “basically the entire agency knows.”
“well I mean I technically only told chen-“
“fucking please,” kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “you know that telling chen is equivalent to screaming it out over intercom.”
“um…I’m sorry?”
“fucking should be.”
“but…I feel like…”
“stop. you’re ruining the good will from your apology,” kyungsoo holds up a finger in irritation, before covering his face again,
letting the launcher swing freely in his other hand. “shut up so I can figure out how to go about damage control.”
“I feel like…” baekhyun looks slightly frustrated. “if you didn’t like the idea of being with me this much, you didn’t have to like agree to anything, because I’m really not trying to force you into this or-“
“look I genuinely like being with you,” kyungsoo mumbles monotonously into his palm before he looks up from his hand, and his face is burning slightly from the cheesiness of the confession (but baekhyun looks a lot happier), but he gets over it quickly. “but there are ways to go about this without giving more social arsenal to certain individuals. like people specifically named chen and suho. oh and tao. fuck I forgot about tao.”
baekhyun bites his bottom lip, “if it helps, as far as they know we’re just friends with benefits.”
“how exactly is that supposed to help?”
“...oh…um…“
“just let me do the talking when we get home.” kyungsoo groans as he spots the helicopter approaching. when it nears, kyungsoo can make out chen at the wheel, a creepy, knowing smile plastered on his face.
it was going to be a long ride back.
“so since the damage’s been done anyway,” baekhyun raises his voice over the sound of the propeller. “…can I kiss you now?”
"now?” kyungsoo begins to lift his gun threateningly, jabbing it in the direction of their aggravating audience of one. “do you want me to kill you?"
"not really, but hey, yolo right?" baekhyun shrugs and suddenly shrinks that distance to a solid zero.
"you clearly," kyungsoo begins to lift the gun when baekhyun pulls away. "want me to kill you."
“you’re worth it?” baekhyun smiles as wide as his mouth allows, and even after everything it still sends an electric zing to kyungsoo’s heart. “because I’d catch a grenade for you.”
kyungsoo blinks at baekhyun.
“Haha get it,” baekhyun yells, barely audible over the thunderous vehicle. “because you have a grenade launcher and then Bruno Mars and because-”
“I get it,” kyungsoo lets go of the launcher with one hand and smacks baekhyun lightly on the head. “I’m too tired to laugh but I think it’s funny.”
baekhyun’s next words get lost in the roar as the helicopter begins to descend, but it doesn’t matter because kyungsoo’s pretty sure it’s something stupid like ‘I love you.’
and so kyungsoo gives in, closing his eyes this time as baekhyun leans in again, hair flying every which way in the propeller-generated wind. and he can feel baekhyun smile against his lips and it’s a weird assurance that things, just vaguely all his worries, will turn out okay. and maybe that’s why kyungsoo put up with baekhyun, like because he had a weird calming effect that he could unleash with a few choice words, and even if kyungsoo refused to show it, it set him at a temporary ease. which was nice.
and kyungsoo begins to think that hey maybe this thing they had could work in public, and maybe chen would be a little more mature that kyungsoo gave him credit for, and maybe-
kyungsoo spots chen snickering out of the corner of his eye as he holds up his phone in their direction, presumably to snap a photo. kyungsoo quickly shoves baekhyun away, but too late, and chen’s already scrutinizing his phone, probably forwarding the photo to everyone and their mothers.
these were the people he had to deal with.
man, he hates his job.
~o~
a/n:
lol i think i only have two character types and sub them into different personas OTL
also the world needs more baeksoo.
o
between premium and regular
chankai || pg-13, or pg even lol idk || 2.8 k || fluff || TUMBLR REPOST
kai falls in love at first sight at a gas station.
The thing about being 16 years old, at least in California, is that there’s one defining distinguisher, one perennial accomplishment, one decisive determinant that distinguishes the class cool from the nubs.
And the way that cool factor is awarded, a recently-turned-sixteen Kai thinks with a smirk as he smoothly pulls out of the parking lot to the tune of the petroleum-induced purr of his second-tier sports car, rolling down his window with a lazy push of a button to throw a walking Sehun a derisive wave (he receives his friend’s approval in the flippant form of the bird back), is via the possession of a flimsy plastic card that grants state authorization to solely man a car.
Of course with great power comes great responsibility, and so alongside the privilege to drive exists the necessity to fill up a gas tank-something that Kai had never attempted before.
So when he looks at his dash and the needle points precariously close to “empty,” a slight chill runs down his spine. With a dash of embarrassment and/or shame, he realizes he has no idea how to get gas.
o
When he pulls up to a station, there’s a lanky guy already waiting at the adjacent pump leaning against his beat-up sedan, arms folded across his chest and right hand slackly supporting a smart phone as petroleum pumps progressively into his car. His casual look appears carefully assembled, both print-screen t-shirt and jeans loose but fitting, big ears peeking out from a head of carefully styled hair.
He looks up when Kai pulls into the station, if only to make sure Kai doesn’t hit his car, eyes warily trained down on the hood as it approaches his own ride, his ongoing wince belaying the fact that he is well aware of the size of Kai’s engine and his general displeasure with ear-splitting roar it’s making.
And that’s probably about when Kai falls just a little bit in love, like not the one fell swoop brand of love, but more like a substantial divot delivered to his heart by the head of a well-placed axe swing type of love, the kind of love you feel in the first two seconds when you see a fucking attractive stranger with a face (just your type) lounging fucking attractively against the side of his unattractive car and you kind of want to make sure you, yourself, appear easily as fucking attractive to him as he is to you.
So Kai is more or less extremely self conscious when he turns the engine off with a practiced flick of his wrist, opens the door, and smoothly steps out into the bright spring sun (and the heat of the guy’s gaze).
His heart skips several beats when he see’s the guy’s eyes flick up. Kai can practically feel the guy’s eyes track him, wide and unblinking, astutely observing as Kai swaggers towards the pump. As Kai rounds the front of his car, out of the corner of his eye he can see the guy’s eyebrows rise slightly, and his mouth crack open.
“Uh,” a deep voice utters, with a jolt of excitement, Kai realizes the guy is actually speaking to him, fuck, the guy’s voice is really nice too, “…uh…excuse me.”
“Yeah?” Kai turns with the intent to come across suave, dropping his voice half an octave and rotating his head with practiced smoothness. He raises an impassively inquisitive brow, just one, the left one, to add to the effect.
“Uh…you dropped your keys,” the guy points a finger down at the ground, where the pile of sun-glittering pieces of metal is lying innocuously next to the driver’s side wheel. He laughs, huge smile overtaking his face, left eye unintentionally winking, “Just thought you’d like to know.”
“Oh, I dropped them,” Kai repeats rather dumbly, a light burning sensation seeping into the tips of his ears, more than likely accompanied by a telltale shade of embarrassment pink. It’s only when he awkwardly shuffles over and stoops to scoop up his keys that he thinks to add a gruff, tsundere, “Thanks.”
The guy doesn’t respond, and when Kai gets up and turns around, (to Kai’s further disappointment) the guy is no longer watching him, and is instead again engrossed in some content on his phone, lips curving into a rather aesthetic grin accompanied by a series soft snickers as he finds something displayed on his screen a little more than mildly funny.
And so Kai is left with a bit of imminent mortification and the burning trepidation due to his still-unfinished task at hand-to fill up his gas tank for the first time in his life.
When he gets to the kiosk, it is slightly overwhelming, the number of gas options and the blaring monitor overhead doing little to help make sense out of anything. Luckily the user-interface on the gas pump is straightforward, and since Kai can read, he’s able to get past the part where he opens his tank and sticks his credit card in without much of a hitch.
Of course, that was the easy park. The next part, selecting the gas type, is much more confusing, and Kai stands dumbly at the kiosk for a good five minutes, dizzying himself as he scrutinizes each of the buttons. After several stressful minutes, Kai decides to go with diesel, on the basis that it sounds “strong.”
He reaches out a hand, ready to hit the button before hand materializes out of nowhere and snatches his wrist before he can push down.
“Uh…excuse me, you won’t want to put in diesel.”
Kai slowly traces the arm back to its owner, eyes taking in a built arm, before meeting a wide and blinking, and more than a little concerned, pair of eyes belonging to the attractive guy.
And he’s at a loss for words.
Up close, he looks amazing about two years older than Kai, a senior in high school, an observation made by the general exudation of ease of a man already aware of where he was spending the next four years of his life. This fact was physically reinforced by the words on his t-shirt (SEN13RZ, so fresh, so clean, we’re class of 13).
And Kai’s a little miffed about how he has to look up to see his face, but this is more than made up by the fact that the guy’s face is easy to look at, soft brown hair matching his eyes, the rest of his features aesthetically proportioned and lined up on his face.
“Your car’s not going to run,” the guy continues to babble once Kai tunes back into reality. He hasn’t let go of Kai’s wrist, prompting pleasant tingles to skip up his arm, “And you’re going to have a huge mess on your hands. Diesel is a like a different consistency from Petrol gases, so it won’t combust in your engine very well, if it does at all.”
“Ah.” Kai has barely any idea what the guy is saying, but his voice is really nice. So are his eyes.
“Is this your first time getting gas?”
“…sort of.”
The guy gives him a look.
“Yes,” Kai awkwardly admits, and he hates how high his voice sounds at that moment.
“…Do you need help?”
And really Kai’s kind of conflicted, torn between equally-weighted desires of wanting to appear competent and wanting
“Do you need help?” The guy repeats earnestly. “I can help you.”
“…Yes, I’d like that.”
The guy finally lets go of Kai’s wrist and sighs, running a few fingers through his hair, expression a mixture of slight amusement and mock exasperation.
“You’re going to want to choose from these three pumps,” the guy jabs a finger towards the other pumps. “The difference depends on the type of car you’re filling. The numbers relate to the octane levels.”
“Uh huh.” Kai’s already confused.
“To oversimplify, the higher the octane level, the more compression the fuel can stand before combusting, and as a general rule, higher compression engines are found in higher performance cars, which yours…” the guy’s eyes flick over to Kai’s shiny ride, before he points to the pump labeled ’93,’ “…most likely is. So it’s best to use that one over there…”
And that’s about when Kai gets lost in the guy’s bright brown eyes, because they’re really nice, and his mind slips into a rose-hued haze as he phases out the world, including the words coming from the guy’s mouth, in favor of staring at the guy’s face, the lull of the guy’s voice-a stream of deep-toned, meaningless melodic murmurs-washing over his ears.
“…are you even listening? Here,” the guy suddenly grabs Kai’s hand and then gently, but firmly, wraps Kai’s fingers around the handle of the pump nozzle before stepping back and crossing his arms. “Start getting gas.”
“Uh,” Kai snaps out of his daze and snatches the nozzle off the rack out of reflex, blinking dumbly at apparatus in his hand then glancing up and blinking dumbly at the guy.
“And now stick it in your gas tank,” the guy points to the tank entrance on Kai’s car.
Kai turns around awkwardly, cumbersomely flipping 180 degrees with the nozzle in hand to face his car. He stares at the hole for a minute before tentatively sliding the apparatus into his car and glancing back up at the guy for approval.
“Is it secure?” The guy uncrosses his arms for a moment and makes a jiggling motion with an imaginary nozzle with his hand. “Check it.”
Kai gives the nozzle two limp shakes before obediently looking back up at the guy.
The guy shakes his head with more mock exasperation, snickering lightly as he bends his head slightly and allowing his hair to cover a majority of his growing smile.
“You’re helpless,” the guy lightly sighs through the grin on his lips. He pauses for a moment, running a few fingers through his hair before stepping forward. “Here lemme check.”
“Am not helpless.” Kai sputters in indignation a few beats too late, mind beginning to stutter as the guy approaches.
“Sure, if you say so,” the guy laughs, raising his eyes unconvincingly. He puts a hand on Kai’s shoulder for balance before he tries to pass behind him.
That’s about when Kai’s awkwardness kicks it on overdrive, and in some misguided and spontaneous attempt to make a little bit of room, he steps backwards right as the guy tries to scoot past. The collision is forceful enough to cause both of them lose their balance. The guy hastily attempts to regain his balance through simultaneously grabbing Kai by both shoulders and stepping backwards, only to trip on the ledge and send both of them falling to the ground (but not before the guy accidently slams his head against the kiosk on an ungainly descent).
It happens too quickly for Kai to process anything until after the fact, roughly the moment when he turns slightly and realizes the guy’s face is less than a foot away from his own.
“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little fast,” the guy jokes, laughing slightly before wincing and bringing a hand to rub the back of his head. “Ouch.”
Kai’s face immediately flares. He looks away quickly, dimly wondering why he himself wasn’t in more pain, until he catches sight of a pair of gangly legs under his own. With another bout of embaressment, he realizes he’s comfortably seated in the guy’s lap.
“You know, any day now, whenever you feel like getting up,” the guy bites his lip, mostly likely to prevent his face from exploding into its peculiarly attractive grin. “Just let me know. Sooner, preferably to later.”
“Sorry,” Kai mutters, and bolts up immediately.
“No problem,” the guy gets up slowly, dusting off his jeans and examining his hands. He glances at the nozzle for a second, hooking a finger around the handle and giving it a secure tug. “Yep. It’s all good to go. So now pull the lever up, yeah like that, and lock it in place…”
When Kai triumphantly hits the gas button on the kiosk, he feels an air of finality, accompanied by a twinge of regret when he turns around. Kai doesn’t want to guy to leave, but there really isn’t a reason for the guy to stick around anymore, his main purpose having been served, and his own gas tank long full. He looked a slightly out of place, and if Kai wasn’t hallucinating, a little disappointed too.
“So uh…thanks,” Kai awkwardly sticks out his hand for a handshake, an oddly adult gesture that looks strange with his teenage hand. But he really wants to leave with a mature impression, and so he throws in a serious expression to match.
“No problem,” the guy grabs Kai’s hand and shakes it enthusiastically. “I’m Chanyeol by the way.”
“Ah,” Kai’s feels like his arm’s going to fall off. “Uh…I’m Kai.”
“Kai,” Chanyeol repeats. “I like your name.”
Kai’s slightly taken aback, and he feels his face start to warm again, “Uh…thanks.”
“Oh, and I couldn’t help but notice,” Chanyeol points at Kai’s front window, where his high school parking permit is neatly placed for display. “I think we go to the same school?”
“We do?” Kai blinks, before realizing (with a skip of his heart), that it was indeed his high school labeled on the guy’s shirt. “Oh, we do.”
“Yeah,” Chanyeol gives a small woot, “Go wolves?”
“Haha yeah.” And suddenly Kai’s world brightens just a bit, because since they were getting along pretty well, there are all sorts of possibilities now, like he’d actually have chances to get to know Chanyeol better, maybe even become close friends, maybe even fall in-
“Sooo,” Chanyeol interrupts Kai’s escalating fantasy. “What year are you?”
“Sophomore,” Kai glances down at Chanyeol’s shirt and points to it. “And I’m guessing you’re a…senior?”
“Yes, very observant of you,” Chanyeol laughs harder at that than Kai expected, throwing in a knee slap and crinkling his eyes.
Though the apparent joke was completely unintentional, Kai feels a small twinge of pride for eliciting Chanyeol’s reaction, though he has a sneaking suspicion Chanyeol is quicker to laugh than most. But like Chanyeol’s smile, his laugh is infectious, and Kai finds himself joining in with subdued snickers of his own.
“I try.” Kai smiles and the conversation peters off. He kicks himself internally for not having anything witty to say back.
“Um also…” Chanyeol shuffles awkwardly for a moment. “Could I ask for a favor?”
“Sure,” Kai says a little too quickly.
“Can I borrow your phone?” Chanyeol sheepishly holds up his own. “My battery died and I need to make a call.”
And suddenly Kai’s paranoid side kicks in and everything seems like it was a rouse to use his phone. He begins to plummet from his high. It makes sense, like a friendly favor exchange, and suddenly everything seems just a bit superficial.
“Yeah, sure,” Kai holds out his phone, sounding slightly dejected, and Chanyeol carefully takes it.
“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asks, subtle worry woven into his tone. Because his eyes are trained at the round, Kai can’t see his expression, but he imagines that it’s over-animatedly scrunched in concern.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
It’s quiet for a minute and Chanyeol fiddles with his phone for a little bit before putting it up to his ear. Suddenly Chanyeol’s own phone begins to vibrate in his hand.
“Wait your phone wasn’t dead…” Kai trails of confusedly.
“Yeah it wasn’t,” a grin spreads across Chanyeol’s face again and he sticks the tip of his tongue out between his teeth as he begins to type something into his own phone. “Say what’s your last name?”
“Kim…but I still don’t get it.”
“That’s a common last name.” Chanyeol ignores Kai.
“Well yeah, I’m like one of 10 million, but seriously, why were you calling yourself?”
“Hmm,” Chanyeol hands Kai’s phone back to him, lips pursed contemplatively.
He stares out at empty space somewhere over Kai’s should for a few moments.
“I just wanted your number, I guess?” Chanyeol finally shrugs, smiling wider than before, displaying a wealth of teeth that lights up his whole face as he reaches out a hand and ruffles Kai’s hair.
“R-really?” Is the only thing Kai manages to lamely say, as his heart begins to race again.
“Haha yea,” Chanyeol saunters back to his car with a two-fingered wave, “So I’ll call you?”
Kai feels his face heat up for the umpteenth time. He mutters, “But you’ll probably see me at school tomorrow.”
“Yeah…but I’m going to call you anyway,” Chanyeol winks before slipping into his car, abandoning Kai, dumbfounded and alone, heart drumming rapidly in his ears.
(And in about 42 minutes, not that Kai was counting nor checking his phone every two minutes or anything, Chanyeol does.)
~o~