Office Antics, Episode 10

[sutecha]

Rating PG-13
Word Count 8k
Pairings Baekyeol, Kaisoo, Hunhan
Summary [office!au] Twelve guys and one software startup.

Episode 10: The Conference (I/III)

| half the journey is getting there  |As a part of a distinguished lineage of disciplined and efficient Kims, Junmyeon was well aware of the many virtues of waking up early. He, himself, was an ardent practitioner of rising bright and early at around 6:45 in the morning for an quick jog down the road to his neighborhood hipster coffee shop before he started getting ready for work.

Of course, that did not make it any easier for Junmyeon to roll out of his warm sheets on this particular morning. Instead of bursting out of bed at the beckoning of his cellphone alarm, he chooses instead to shrink deeper into his cocoon, pulling his comforter securely over his ears to muffle the tinny bass beats of Kanye West’s “Power.”

There was something to be said about being conscious at this hour of the day. Exactly what, Junmyeon wouldn’t actually be able to tell you, because everything dawn was harder than rocket science. His degree, after all, had been in computer science, not astrophysics.

But what Junmyeon could tell you was that it was currently barely four in the morning. It was pitch black and freezing. And that he had ahead of him a six-hour journey through the middle of nowhere in which his task was to shuttle a load of children guised as men (each of whom would probably spend a majority of the ride either complaining about the world or undermining him, or most likely both) to snow country. Where it was both cold and wet, since the spring melt was just beginning.

The only person who actually needed to be there was Chanyeol. Somehow they had selected him as the main speaker for their startup sales workshop. And Junmyeon wasn’t complaining about that, it was an invaluable opportunity to build their brand recognition as well as network with a few potential collaborates and clients.

It had been his very own brilliant idea to take the annual tech conference and spin it into a team-bonding occasion. What he had forgotten was that the only things to do up there at this time of year were things in the snow. And while he was pretty adept at skiing, his ideal vacation was lounging on the warm soft sands on the coast, the only frozen thing being the lime-garnished frosted glass in his hand. Cold was nowhere near his shortlist of favorite things.

He also had forgotten how lovely a task it would be to spend 72 unbroken hours with his staff.

Looking forward to it? Junmyeon wouldn’t say he was.

He really shouldn’t even be awake.

And so Junmyeon fixes that, sandwiched softly between downy comforter and Egyptian cotton, he shirks his responsibilities (just for five minutes, he tells himself) to willfully drift back into a semi-conscious state.

Of course real time is hard to tell in dreams, and what feels like five minutes of being inaugurated as the President of Universe, he turns away from the podium and the adoring crowd to find Kris standing alongside him on stage.

“Not you,” Junmyeon groans. “You’re the last person I want to see in my dreams.”

“Then stop dreaming,” Kris scowls and Junmyeon internally laments over how he can’t even get away from a derisive Kris in a place he fully controls. Kris snaps, sound loudly thundering throughout the room, “And get up.”

“Huh?” Junmyeon manages to grunt before he’s pulled violently into reality.

“Ay.” Junmyeon’s eyes flutter open just as Kris’ fingers snap one inch away from his nose. “I mean it. Get up.”

He blinks again in an attempt to alleviate the grogginess, getting a minute of peace before something violently slides out under his head and subsequently swings out of the left of nowhere to smack him clear across the face.

“I can do that again if you’d like,” Jongdae raises the pillow as Junmyeon rolls on his side and groans into his mattress. “I wouldn’t mind it. I’d love too, even, actually.”

“Hey let me get a shot,” Luhan’s voice can be heard before something heavy smacks Junmyeon hard enough to bounce his head off the wall.

“What the heck was tha-mmph?” Junmyeon jolts out of bed, wincing as he clutches the back of his skull. Jongdae swings again and hits him straight in the mouth, efficiently muting him.

“A chair cushion?” Luhan frowns at the solid squarish piece of pillow in his arms. “Well, not sure actually, I took it off that round thing down the hall next to that really ugly bonsai-“

“Shit!” Junmyeon suddenly lunges and grabs the cushion out of Luhan’s hands as he hisses, “Put it back, that’s an antique.”

“Okay,” Luhan looks down at Junmyeon’s crotch. “And you, put on some pants, no one wants to see that.”

Unnoticed by many, Kyungsoo flinches in the corner.

“I can’t believe you wear tighty whities,” Luhan guffaws and Junmyeon wearily walks over to his armoire and pulls out a pair of jeans.

“They’re good for support,” Junmyeon scowls as he buckles his belt. A quick scan around the room lets him know most of the office is crammed into his room, varying states of tiredness and bemusement written on their respective expressions. “And most people call them briefs.”

“But still, it’s the principle of it. You’re like asking to be judged.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting an entourage when I woke up,” Junmyeon snaps back as he quickly buckles his belt. He hears a less-than-gentle knocking sound outside his door and grovels in irritation, “Tao, you can stop that, the table’s really mahogany I can assure you.”

“It looks like a veneer,” Tao protests, voice distant.

“It’s really not,” Junmyeon grips his forehead. “Who let him in? Actually who let any of you in?”

“Well, me,” Kris steps forward, opening the blinds with a flick of his wrist, flooding the room with bright, 7 AM sunlight. “Because, you see, I get bored waiting in the cold office parking lot we agreed to meet at for two hours. And when you put your spare key under the doormat, this just kinda happens.”

“Shit,” Junmyeon fumbles for his phone. Quite a few missed calls stack themselves neatly on the screen and his heart sinks.

“Right,” Kris jams his hands into his pockets. “So while it’s not that big of a deal, I would like to get going before the snow hits the summit. You didn’t seem interested in communicating over technology, so I decided face-to-face would be more effective.”

“Is everyone here?”

“Yeah, except for Chanyeol. But, well, he’s never been great at directions.”

•

In about half an hour, Chanyeol finally pulls into Junmyeon’s driveway with squeaking wheels, eyes wide and frazzled as he shuts off the engine. Minseok and Baekhyun slide out of the back of the car, twin tired expressions stamped on their faces as they pull their bags out of Chanyeol’s trunk.

“What happened to you?” Kris leans against his car. “You were right behind us.”

“Yeah, I was,” Chanyeol glares as he hastily shoves his keys in his pocket. “Until you left me at that red light right before the freeway.”

“Oh. My bad.”

“And here’s your stupid coffee,” Chanyeol grabs a cup off the roof of the car and thrusts it into Kris’ hands. “I hope it’s cold and you don’t like it.”

“You got him coffee?” Junmyeon’s jaw slips. “What about me?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Chanyeol accepted the duffel proffered by Minseok. “But when I called this douchebag to tell him I was lost, the first thing he tells me is buy him a goddamn two-shot expresso.”

“You told me you were near a Starbucks, that’s my instinctive reaction,” Kris shrugs as he takes a sip. “What else do you expect me to do?”

“To give me directions. Especially since I ended up being like 10 miles from where I was supposed to be,” Chanyeol sticks a hand out. “Also pay me back. Four dollars.”

Kris blows air past his lips as he slaps a few bills into Chanyeol’s palm.

“So,” Kyungsoo pipes up from his position of safeguarding the dozing pair of Jongin and Sehun slouched on one of Junmyeon’s artful patio benches. “We should probably head off soon.”

“How are we splitting up the cars?” Junmyeon steps forward boldly, in attempt to assert his leadership. Unfortunately he also steps on a branch in the process and fantastically stumbles away any of the impression he had just made, arms flailing as he tried to stabilize himself.

“Don’t die,” Kris scoffs before rattling off a series of commands, hand-picking people with a casual flick of his finger. “Chanyeol, we have to talk again about what you’re gonna say for seminar. Minseok, Tao, we’ll need to sort out who’s going to which workshops as well. Otherwise, it doesn’t really matter, so I’ll just take you guys,” he says as he gestures to Luhan and Yixing, “Since you’re physically closest.”

“Oh, not because we’re your close childhood friends?” Luhan sarcastically snips as he begins to drag his bag towards Kris’ SUV.

“Hahahaha,” Kris laughs merrily, before his face snaps back into a neutral expression. “Are you kidding me?”

“I call shot gun,” Chanyeol all but sprints, shoving Tao away with one hand as they make a break for the car.

Junmyeon sighs as Tao trips and wildly flails to keep his face from having a date with the ground. He turns to Kris, still slightly put of over how he has to cock his head up to look him in the eye even after all of these years.

“You lead, or me?”

“You can go first,” Kris nods his head at the car, finger pointing at an ecstatic Chanyeol clambering into passenger seat with his face pulled into an expression of glee at the expense of a helpless Tao. “He’s going to be shit at navigating, so this is probably safer.”

“True,” Junmyeon sighs, swinging his keys around his fingers as he turns to his own car. “See you in a few hours then.”

•

Perhaps there were some things that Jongin could be truly thankful for Sehun. Not many, but there was the occasional rare moment when Jongin felt grateful to have him as a best friend.

Funnily, they were more often the moments when Sehun chose not to be there, such as now, when he went to the back row and settled into the seat next to Baekhyun without a word, hoodie pulled around his ears as he sank his face into his pillow, staying conscious just long enough to deliver a wink at Jongin before promptly passing out, mouth gaping unattractively as the beginning of a snore slipped from his throat.

If Kim Jongin was a better man, he wouldn’t have snapped a picture to save for blackmail material. But Kim Jongin was not a better man, and so he even posted it on instagram.

(#lol #amazing #nofilter )

And while Jongin wouldn’t say he was looking forward to a six hour car-ride mostly composed of cramped knees through a landscape of nothing but farms (and the occasional cow), what made the ordeal slightly better was the prospect of having Kyungsoo sitting next to him for the whole way, even if they were separated by a one-foot chasm Junmyeon began stuffing with assorted luggage. By the time they’re buckled down and ready to go, Jongin finds that his view is cut off somewhere between Kyungsoo’s chin and lips when they both weren’t slouching. Not ideal, but not the worst thing in the world, Jongin manages to think before Jongdae flings his backpack backwards, landing it neatly on top of the train of luggage, and right where Kyungsoo’s face could be seen.

Jongin’s ready to raise his fist at the gods of karma when the backpack tugs away to reveal a bemused Kyungsoo.

“So,” Kyungsoo lightly grunts as he twists around and gently places the bag between the snoozing Sehun and the zoned-out Baekhyun. “Ready for the trip?”

“Yeah,” Jongin says as he stretches, knuckles brushing against the ceiling of the car. “Sorta.”

“I’ve never been that fond of long car rides,” Kyungsoo sheepishly smiles, slipping off his shoes before bringing his knees to his chest. “So sorry if I get restless.”

“No worries, I understand completely,” Jongin says in attempt to superficially relate to Kyungsoo, because in reality he was perfectly fine with long car rides. They were a perfect multitasking opportunities, affording Jongin an adulterated nap for hours at a time while he was conveniently transported from place A to B.

Like how productive was getting to do his favorite thing in the world while simultaneously getting something done? Really, everything in life should be this fulfilling.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo smiles in relief. “I just don’t enjoy being cooped up for long periods of time.”

“Oh…me neither.”

“I mean,” Kyungsoo continues. “People tell me to sleep it off. But I’ve never really been able to take naps in the middle of the day.”

“Oh really?” Jongin laughs. “Are you a light sleeper?”

“Well it’s not that, it’s more like because I a guilt complex about it.”

“Guilt…complex,” Jongin repeats slowly.

“It just feels like I’m wasting the day away,” Kyungsoo shudders. “I can’t stand being that lazy. I hate it.”

“Lazy,” Jongin blinks as his heart sinks.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo beams brightly enough to melt the ice off Pluto. “You know what I mean?”

“Oh yeah,” Jongin stiffly nods his head in agreement as he bites his lip, fighting back that yawn spurred by his typical drowsiness. “Naps. Gotta hate them.”

Sehun snorts loudly and begins a barrage of clearly-fake coughs, and Jongin resists the urge to fling his backpack at his head.

“So what do you end up doing to pass the time?” Jongin tries in an effort to change the subject.

“I listen to music!” Kyungsoo chirps happily as he takes out a neatly wound bundle of earphones, carefully plugging the end into the phone jack. “Downloaded some new tunes last night just for the trip.” He holds out one of the earbuds tentatively, “Wanna share?”

“S-Sure,” Jongin stutters, physically restraining himself from snatching it too quickly. He slips the bud into his ear just in time to hear the first few notes of an old R&B song he can’t quite name.

“Here,” Kyungsoo quickly hands Jongin his phone before disappearing over the luggage barrier. He sounds slightly embarrassed as he lifts his head just high enough to peer over the wall, “You can change it to anything. They’re mostly slow songs though, and there’s nothing extremely current-”

“I like this,” Jongin interjects, pressing the earphone with an index finger. “Who’s it by?”

“Boys II Men,” Kyungsoo looks a bit surprised.

“They’re really good,” Jongin nods as he begins to look through Kyungsoo’s music app.

“Oh then,” Kyungsoo reaches an arm over and points at a song. “End of the Road. You should listen to that.”

It sounds familiar, and after a minute Jongin exclaims, “Oh this song! I’ve heard it before.”

“That’s not surprising,” Kyungsoo laughs. “It’s one of their more famous ones.”

“Well I mean, I used to listen to it all of the time,” Jongin shakes his leg excitedly. “Brings back memories.”

“Wow, that’s surprising,” Kyungsoo lifts his head a little higher, gripping the edge of his suitcase and resting his chin against his fingertips. “I never would have pegged you as the type.”

“Yeah,” Jongin continues, without thinking. “I mean the only reason why was because my dad really liked them…” he trails off.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo sheepishly hangs his head. “Should have seen that coming.”

Jongin throws up his hands for damage control, “It’s not a bad thing! I liked a lot of the old-people songs he played-“

“Old people songs,” Kyungsoo listlessly repeats.

“Wait!” Jongin begins to freak out. “Not old people songs, uh, he was also a pretty hip guy even if he was mostly stuck in the 80s…oh shoot no I take that back, uh-“

“What Jongin’s trying to say,” Sehun suddenly appears near Jongin’s shoulder and monotonously explains. “Is that his dad had a great taste in music. And you do too, Kyungsoo.”

At that, Kyungsoo seems to pick himself out of his gloom. Sehun nods in satisfaction before leaning back against his chair. Jongin takes back his previous desire of aggression against his best friend, and mouths his thanks in the form of an exaggerated I love you.

“I know,” Sehun holds up a dismissive hand before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the chair. “Unlike you, I don’t need to be told about things I already know.”

Jongin actually does pick his backpack up and hurls it over his chair this time.

•

“So,” Kris begins as Chanyeol drums his hand restlessly against the front of the car. “What you’re going to need to understand about sitting in the passage seat is that it comes with certain responsibilities.”

“Gotcha.”

“Navigation responsibilities,” Kris enunciates as he throws his phone onto Chanyeol’s lap. “If we loose sight of Junmyeon, you’re my backup. The thing’s already set up, just don’t touch anything.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol puffs his chest proudly. “So I’m kind of like your last line of defense?”

“No,” Kris mutters under his breath, as he shifts gears and cautiously pulls out of the driveway, swinging his head wildly to check around the hedges, cursing Junmyeon slightly under his breath for having a penchant for such leafy foliage. “I’m trusting, not stupid.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Goddammit,” Kris curses again as Junmyeon zips down the street, taking a sharp left at the sign down the road before hurtling down the side road. “Does this guy even know how to lead?”

Kris slams on the gas to keep up, causing his passengers’ heads to snap back (giving Minseok whiplash, or at least that’s what it sounded like from his groans). But he does so in vain, barely catching the tail end of Junmyeon’s car making a right down a fork in the road before he completely looses him, car disappearing in the bends of the mountain road, the oak trees and tall grasses obscuring everything that wasn’t at least a second-story level of a house.

“Wow,” Chanyeol whistles. “I’m impressed, you lost him before we even got to the freeway. You’re practically me.”

“I don’t want to hear that right now, especially from you,” Kris growls, jabbing a finger at his phone. “Navigate.”

“Is it my time to shine?” Chanyeol gasps exaggeratedly.

“Try not to fuck it up first before you even start thinking about being good at it,” Kris mumbles as he cautiously drives down the street. “Where am I supposed to turn up at the light?”

Chanyeol squints at the phone, “Le...Riiiii…eft.”

“What?”

“Left.”

“Okay,” Kris flicks the blinker and begins moving to the left lane.

After a moment, Chanyeol looks up, “What are you doing?”

“Turning left.”

“No!” Chanyeol exclaims as he begins to flail wildly. “Left! I said left!”

“What?!” Kris looks out the window, taking note of how he was, indeed in the left lane.

“No, you need to go left!” Chanyeol squirms, tugging on his seatbelt. “You’re going the wrong way!”

“This is left!”

“Wrong!”

“No, it’s right!”

“But I’m telling you left!”

“I meant right as in correct.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re in the wrong lane!”

“I’m in the right lane!”

“Exactly! And I TOLD YOU LEFT, you fool!”

“IS,” Kris roars, holding out his hands. “THIS NOT THE LEFT LANE?”

“NO,” Chanyeol points to the other side. “YOU NEED TO BE OVER THERE.”

“FUCKING…” Kris’ jaw slackens as he stares, “…THAT’S THE RIGHT SIDE, YOU DUMBFUCK.”

Chanyeol stops for a minute to stare down the road for a moment before slowly raising his hands, each with only the index finger and thumb pointed out. He consults them for a second, mouthing something that looks suspiciously like left-hand forms an L before laughing casually, “Oh, sorry. Uh. Yeah. I meant right.”

Kris lightly slams his head against the wheel before he laboriously inches the car towards the right lane. At another time and place, he might have given Chanyeol grief about using kindergartener techniques to differentiate directions, but the stress of awkwardly maneuvering through a busy road gave him different priorities. Unfortunately, given the amount of remaining space between his car and the crosswalk, he ends up horizontal against the street, car blocking both lanes inconveniently as the street slowly began filling up with traffic. He sheepishly throws up a hand in apology before slinking down into his seat to avoid the glares.

“I’ve always had difficulties with directions, my bad,” Chanyeol apologizes. “But hey, you already knew that.”

“…I think confusing left and right is a different and much more serious problem.”

“Shh,” Chanyeol shushes Kris. “We all have things we’re weaker at than others. I have plenty of strengths to make up for it.”

“Remind me, what are they again?”

“What are what?”

“Your strengths.”

“What about them?”

“…what are they.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Your strengths,” Kris grits his teeth. “What are your strengths?”

“Oh…uhm.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...wait…”

“Waiting.”

“Let me get back to you on that.”

•

“Oh shoot,” Jongdae clicks his tongue. “I think we lost them.”

“Really?” Junmyeon glances to his right as he begins to merge on to the freeway.

“Yeee…ah,” Jongdae concludes after he twists around to check.

“Well that’s okay,” Junmyeon begins to pull the car into the shoulder just off of the off ramp. “We can just wait here.”

“Wait,” Jongdae suddenly sits up straight. “Wait what are you doing?”

“Waiting for them to catch up?” Junmyeon blinks innocently.

“That works on regular roads, but we’re on the side of a friggen highway.”

“So?”

“Well Kris just rocketed past us,” Jongdae sinks his head into his hand as he points at the receding car. “That’s at least a majority of your answer.”

•

“I’m smart,” Chanyeol finally suggests, head snapping uselessly back and hitting the chair as Kris accelerates onto the onramp. “I’m pretty sure that’s my strength.”

“Debatable. If your comparison point is something like a dog, then, maybe,” Kris suddenly frowns, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Was that Junmyeon on the side of the road?”

“Yeup,” Luhan says from the back, loud enough to cover Chanyeol’s belated protests.

“Are you sure?”

“Sehun said he saw us go by.”

“Oh, Sehun told you?” Tao turns around and clutches the back of his seat, sporting a grin Luhan really doesn’t appreciate.

“Yea, what about it?” Luhan challenges.

“Nothing,” Tao slides back into position, fingers curled into a tiny hand heart as Minseok snickers. His eyes dart down to the open message thread on Luhan’s phone, “It’s just cute how you guys text each other.”

Luhan quickly flips his phone screen-down and narrows his eyes at the back of Tao’s head, “Don’t read too much into it.”

•

“We should play a game,” Sehun lets his head loll over his seat, stopping for a moment to glance to his side. “Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun continues feign sleep, popping his mouth open for effect.

“Baekhyun,” Sehun swings out a hand and hits Baekhyun on the upper arm. Baekhyun flinches, prompting Sehun to point out, “Hey, you’re not asleep.”

In response, Baekhyun lets out a loud, exaggerated snort of a snore.

“Hey,” Sehun begins to chant. “Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun spares him a cracked-lid look before letting out a resigned sigh, “Fine, why not.”

“You’re the best.”

“I try,” Baekhyun shifts as he reorients himself. “So what are we playing?”

“…uhm.”

Baekhyun tilts his wrist and peers at an imaginary watch, “You have about 10 seconds before I go back to sleep.”

“Uh, uh, how about rock paper scissors?”

“Really?” Baekhyun draws his brows together.

“Yeah, but like, the slapping version,” Sehun holds out his right hand.

“How do you play that?” Baekhyun tentatively grabs Sehun’s. He quickly retracts it, wiping his hands on his shirt. “Ew, your hands are sweaty.”

“Well yours aren’t exactly a desert either,” Sehun rolls his eyes before casually wiping his hand off on a snoozing Jongin’s hair.

Baekhyun holds out his hand, cringing slightly when Sehun grips it. “So how do you play this thing?”

“If you win, you get to slap my hand and vice versa. The loser is the first one who surrenders.”

Baekhyun blinks, “This is possibly the stupidest game I’ve ever heard of.”

“Have you ever played bloody knuckles?”

“Okay,” Baekhyun blinks again. “Second stupidest.”

“There’s mercy too.”

“Third stupidest.”

“And the knife game.”

“Okay fourth stupidest, can we just start already,” Baekhyun stomps his foot on the ground. “I get your point.”

“Let me just be benevolent and let you know I’ve never lost a game before,” Sehun smiles toothily as they both raise their fists. “Still want to play?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Baekhyun grins sinisterly, the light of competition glimmering in his eyes.

“Rock-paper, scissors-!”

Sehun cheers as Baekhyun hangs his head in defeat, his fist of a rock clearly bested by Sehun’s outstretched paper. Baekhyun tenses as Sehun takes a few practice swings.

“Nervous?” Sehun sways his hand and stops just by Baekhyun’s hand for the tenth time.

“No,” Baekhyun says through his teeth, hand slightly shaking as Sehun swings back again. “Just get it over with.”

A sharp smack cuts through the air, followed by a sharper hiss from Baekhyun. A pink welt begins to shine on the back of his hand as he hangs his head and stifles what seems to be a whimper.

“Give up?”

“No,” Baekhyun looks up with a slightly shaken resolve. “Let’s go again.”

“Okay,” Sehun raises a brow. “Rock, paper, scissors-!”

Sehun wins again, and Baekhyun winces a little the second time through, a fresh layer of red glowing on the back of his hand. And for Sehun’s next three wins, amid his gloating snickers, he doesn’t hold back any less. By the sixth win, Baekhyun’s hand begins turning a slightly disturbing shade of purple.

Of course in a game of probability, the tides will eventually sway. Baekhyun’s triumphant grin manages to gives Sehun shivers as he touts a rock over Sehun’s scissors.

“Hey,” Sehun tries to tug his hand out of Baekhyun’s tightening death grip. “We’re f-friends right? Friends.”

“Great friends,” Baekhyun raises his hand, slightly rotating his shoulders as he winds up. “What about it?”

“And you’re a nice person right,” Sehun jerks his hand harder, but to no avail. “I think you’re a really nice person.”

“Aw, thanks,” Baekhyun stretches his hand.

“Like really fucking nice.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Going easy on me wouldn’t be a bad thing you know-“

“But I really need to pay back my dues,” Baekhyun raises his arm slowly. “Eye for an eye, you know.”

“Oh my fucking, I surrender!” Sehun pleads, voice squeaking out an octave higher than usual as he frantically flails. “AUGH Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Go easy!”

Baekhyun snarls with a gleam in his eyes, “It’s the reckoning, bitch.”

•

“Was that a scream?” Yixing wakes up, sleepily looking around as he yawns. “Or am I hearing voices again.”

“No I heard it too,” Kris peers through the rearview mirror. “Sounded like Sehun?”

“Yeah, it probably was,” Luhan sniggers as he holds up a picture of Sehun’s freshly bruised hand, bright red and slightly swollen, with the accompanying text of ‘ㅠㅡㅠ I lost’ sitting pathetically underneath.

Chanyeol laughs semi-maniacally, pounding on the seat. A small smile quirks it’s way onto Yixing’s lips and Minseok shakes his head. Tao chuckles for a minute before flashing another finger heart.

Luhan smacks his hands down in a flash.

•

After about three straight hours of being passed out in the front seat, head dangling over the side and socked-feet propped up on top of the glove compartment, Jongdae wakes with a flutter of lashes and a bit of residual drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth to find himself (and everyone else) parked at a rest stop.

“Bathroom break,” Junmyeon announces as he turns the ignition off with a flick of his wrist. “Or food, or whatever you want.”

Sehun wordlessly clambers over luggage and people and makes a run for presumably the restroom, dashing and disappearing behind the glass doors of a McDonalds. Jongin and Baekhyun make a close second, and Minseok, a fourth.

“Wow,” Jongdae sarcastically comments as he steps out of the passenger seat and glances down at the parking space line, or rather, at the piece of car where it theoretically should be underneath. “Could you have parked any better?”

Junmyeon waddles over to the passenger side and stops, crossing his arm as he surveys his work. He looks down at the position of his car, which so skewed that the entire back tire crosses the line, and shrugs, “Nah.”

Jongdae’s not a fighter, and so he concedes, “If you say so.”

“It’s intentional,” Junmyeon flicks the lock button with his thumb. “Defensive parking. I’m taking steps to ensure my car doesn’t get hit.”

“Aren’t there better ways to do that?” Jongdae goes out of his way to stamp his expression with confusion. “Like, I dunno, park in between two cars that are more expensive that your own? That’s what I try to do.”

“Well no, for two reasons,” Junmyeon grandly sweeps his hand. “Maybe this isn’t something you’re used to, but at a rest stop, there are very few cars that are more expensive than mine.”

“Hey!”

“And also,” Junmyeon continues. “Why just reduce your probability of an accident to ‘highly unlikely’ when you can just eliminate an entire side of risk completely?”

“I’m not following you.”

“I’m parked so shittily that no car will be able to get into that spot,” Junmyeon points out proudly. “You can’t hit my car with something that’s not there.”

“That’s so incredibly…stupid,” Jongdae gapes. “That it just might work.”

“Oscar Levant once said, ‘There’s a fine line between genius and insanity, and I have erased that,’” Junmyeon quotes proudly, thumping his chest with a fist. “And literally, I have erased a line. So, while the less astute might mistake it to be crazy, it’s actually subtle genius.”

“If you say so,” Jongdae echoes himself because he’s still not a fighter. But he still squints, “Who’s Oscar Levant?”

“No idea. I just found the line searching up quotes about geniuses yesterday. I need good lines if I’m going to give keynote addresses when I’m famous.”

“…We can no longer be friends.”

“Your loss.”

•

Chanyeol wasn’t known for doing things quickly, but fifteen minutes in the bathroom was enough to make even Tao worried.

Of course he should have known that expressing his concerns to Kris would result in additional work, which is how he found himself as the sole offiver on the reconnaissance mission to figure out just what exactly was taking their sales person so long.

“Hey Chanyeol,” Tao tentatively pokes his head into the restroom, slightly balking at the less-than-appealing roadside-bathroom odor that hits him like a wall. “Are you almost done? Kris says we need to go really soon. So hurry.”

He’s answered an unintelligible mumble and then a slightly-eerie silence.

“Chanyeol?” Tao takes a step into the restroom, using all of his willpower to keep his lunch where he put it.

“I…don’t…feel so good,” Chanyeol says weakly as he peers around a urinal divider. He looks pale and slightly nauseated as he blinks blankly at Tao.

“T-that’s nice,” Tao points at the urinal. “But you can finish doing your business first, and then we can talk about it?”

“No I seriously,” Chanyeol begins to slightly sway, and his eyes roll slightly back. “Don’t feel good. I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Hold it together for a little bit longer,” Tao begins to frantically encourage. “At least until you get your thing back into your pants. And zip up your fly. And wash your hands. And well, while we’re at it, walk to the car. Actually don’t faint at all that’s the most-“

With a convincing thud, Chanyeol hits the grimy floor.

“-preferable. Man, no one ever listens to me,” Tao hangs his head before cautiously stepping towards the fallen. “Well at least you were considerate enough to get your pants situation fixed. Thank you for that.”

Chanyeol, unconscious and sprawled on the ground, surprisingly does not respond.

“But I would still have appreciated it if you washed your hands,” Tao grunts as he hoists Chanyeol up by his collar, cringing as Chanyeol’s hands swing out and hit his leg. “We should probably get that washed.”

To the tune of $200 denim sliding over the filth veneer of the bathroom linoleum, Tao heaves Chanyeol over to the faucet, hoisting him high enough for his hands to dangle over and into the sink bowl. After a moment of internal debate over whether Chanyeol was a right or left hand type of guy, Tao decides to play it safe, and awkwardly runs soap and water over both of Chanyeol’s limp hands.

“You owe me,” Tao grumbles as he lugs Chanyeol over to the hand dryer, clutching him by the wrists as he holds Chanyeol’s hands by the vent for a quick dry before dragging him out of the door.

Only about a third of the office seems surprised, and of those that aren’t, a vein of amusement seems to be the general air of the group.

“Again?” Junmyeon sighs as Tao finally trundles into hearing range with Chanyeol haphazardly slumped over his back.

“Is this like a reoccurring thing?” Tao pants.

“Yeah,” Kris prods Chanyeol’s face. “He probably pissed too fast again,” Kris sighs, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. “He should really learn his limits.”

Tao coughs back a laugh, “Sorry what?”

“When he pees too hard, he ends up fainting.”

“Is that like a thing?”

“Apparently,” Kris shrugs. “At least how he described it, basically there’s a particular nerve that gets stimulated when someone strains when they urinate, which causes the heart to slow down. That naturally leads to a drop in blood pressure, and then, you-well he-passes out.”

“That’s…incredibly lame,” Tao blinks.

“Yeah. But it happens. I forgot that I can’t rush him,” Kris clicks his tongue, pausing for a moment before he whips out his keys and jabs a finger at the car. “Damn, lost my navigator. Well just toss him in the back row and prop up his legs until he revives-it should be soon.”

“We don’t have room,” Luhan calls from the car.

“How?” Kris says in disbelief.

“I don’t want to be cramped, that’s how.”

“That’s not a good enough reason, try to work with me here. Please.”

“Well also your backpack’s on the chair,” Luhan holds up a bag. “So I mean if you’re willing to let us put that on the floor we’ll be okay. But otherwise, like I said, it’s going to be cramped since he’ll have to lay entirely on our laps.”

“Oh.”

“So can I put your backpack down?”

“…no. We’ll move him into Junmyeon’s car. Switch Jongdae out to make space. Keep my bag on the chair. It’s more valuable than all of you put together.”

“Wow, what a turd.”

Kris ignores Luhan, “Tao, you sit in the front seat instead and be useful for once. Everyone else can cram into the middle row or something.”

“But I don’t want to-“ Tao begins to protest.

“Just do it.”

“Fine,” Tao huffs as he climbs into the front seat. “Don’t expect quality from me though.”

“Didn’t even cross my mind.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s nice,” Kris grunts as he shifts the car into reverse. “Now navigate.”

“Turn left out of the parking lot,” Tao grumbles. “And then right at the first light, then left at the stop sign then-“

“Too many directions at once,” Kris waves Tao off, “Let me know when we get closer.”

“It’s this or nothing.”

“You’re not making this easy on me.”

“Not trying the slightest.”

“That’s definitely not something I was accusing you of.”

“Left…”

“Tao.”

“Right…”

“Tao.”

“Left...”

“I keep telling you I didn’t need like a million updates at once.”

“Right.”

“I don’t need your fucking sass right now either.”

“No I mean right, as in the directional right. And well now, left.”

“Look, the side of the road has your name on it right now.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Who says?”

“They’d arrest you, Kris.”

“Only if they find evidence.”

“…”

“Which they won’t.”

“…”

“Yeah. Wanna test it?”

“…1000 miles”

“No mile updates either. Patience wearing thin right now.”

“999 miles”

“I told you, I don’t need mile updates. Are you even listening to me?”

“And I told you I didn’t want to do this,” Tao scowls. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Okay,” Kris eyes Yixing in the mirror, and flicks a finger up at the front seat. “Next.”

“Are you talking to me?” Yixing calls, pointing to himself. “Or Luhan?”

“You,” Kris flicks his finger up at the front seat again.

“I feel like this is an inside joke,” Yixing calls sleepily from the back. “Except it’s not funny nor am I in on it. What are you even trying to tell me to do?”

“It’s not supposed to be funny,” Kris snaps, “I’m telling you to switch places with Tao.”

“Woo!” Tao cheers, clapping his hands together.

“You’re not supposed to be happy about it,” Kris glares at Tao. “It’s a fucking demotion because you’re incompetent.”

Tao thinks for a moment before clapping again, “Woo!”

“Yixing, just get up here,” Kris rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you wanna like…I dunno…slow the car down first?” Yixing rubs his eyes. “Like to a stop would be nice. And easier.”

“No, we’ve already lost too much time. Just switch while I’m driving. But quickly.”

“Quickly,” Yixing repeats hollowly.

Tao practically bounds out of his seat, stepping over the center console with the ease of a man with long legs, awkwardly squatting as he waits for Yixing to move.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Yixing grumbles as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“We’re not building a fucking city here,” Kris taps his steering wheel impatiently. “Hurry the fuck up.”

“Well you’re certainty acting like a slave driver.”

“I pay you.”

“Fine. A slave driver who pays his slaves.”

“That’s doesn’t make any sense. By definition they’re unpaid.”

“A humanitarian slave driver. Conscious about the merits of minimum wage, but still manages to drive his workers to death.”

“What you make isn’t even close to minimum wage, and this is hardly threatening your mortality.”

“I still see you as an oppressor,” Yixing puts his hand over his chest and sighs dramatically. “Of my soul.”

“That’s nice, now could you please just get up here so you can help out a little?”

“Fine, mom,” Yixing warily gets up before ungainly stepping over the center console and onto the chair of the front seat.

“Oh could you-not-I just got the car cleaned,” Kris grinds as Yixing slides into the seat.

“Well then you can clean it again, and it’ll be doubly clean,” Yixing picks up Kris’ phone.

“That’s not how it works. it’s just going to be restored to the level of clean it was at before you stepping on it with your fucking shoe.”

“Wow, Debbie Downer much?”

“He looks more like a Negative Nancy to me,” Luhan calls from the back. “Or a wet blanket. A sad, sopping blanket of wet sadness.”

“Yeah, stop being such a wet blanket, Kris.” Yixing deadpans as he keys in the password to Kris’ phone, successfully unlocking it on the first try.

“Fuck,” Kris swears. “How do you know my password?”

“It’s your birthday, not that hard to remember.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“But don’t let it get to your head,” Yixing scoffs. “The only reason why your birthday is because I remember your password.”

“This flow of logic, I’m not so sure-“

“Shh, don’t think about it too hard,” without looking, Yixing waves an index finger in front of Kris’ face and manages to stab both the corner of his eye and the tip of his nose.

“Ow! Watch it!”

“Drive straight for the next 90 miles. When we hit the next city, which should be in little over an hour, I’ll give you directions from there.”

“Okay,” Kris glares at Tao in the mirror. “See this is how you give directions.”

“Let me get my notepad,” Tao retorts sarcastically.

Kris just shakes his head before concentrating on the road again. The quiet’s nice for a little while, before it becomes slightly stifling, the unchanging landscape and silence providing nothing by way of intellectual stimulation. He flicks on the radio for a moment, wrinkling his nose as he tabs through country station after country station, landing on the occasional Latin pop and grainy top 100 before turning the radio off in defeat.

In an attempt to stave off insanity, he tries to make conversation.

“Hey, so, how’s project ML going?”

Yixing doesn’t respond.

“Yixing?”

Silence. Then a snore.

“Dude, a fake snore, really? It’s not that boring-” Kris quickly looks over at Yixing only to find him genuinely asleep, mouth wide open and head lolling to the side.

A few nudges do nothing to coax Yixing out of his catatonic state, and after a short while Kris decides to abort the effort.

“Oh goddammit, he actually fell asleep,” Kris eyes Minseok in the mirror and grunts, pointing to the front seat. “Next.”

•

It’s interesting what you can learn from someone when they’re passed out on your lap.

Like, for instance, Baekhyun probably never would have known how soft Chanyeol’s hair was or how he had a mole somewhere around his collarbone if Chanyeol’s head wasn’t nestled between his legs and his abdomen.

Or how good he looked at eyelevel.

Of course, even though these thoughts flashed across the frontal lobe of his brain, they’re largely eclipsed by a bigger realization. It was something that Baekhyun wasn’t even remotely comfortable with, and had him actively holding Chanyeol’s head so his face was pointed away from Baekhyun.

Chanyeol slept with his eyes open.

His eyes were rolled back just enough so that only the slightest edge of his iris peeked below his upper lid. But below that, there was an unsettling centimeter or so of sclera and to add to the effect, the watery white was chased with threads of bloodshot red, creating something Baekhyun just didn’t feel like looking at.

“Does he always do this?” Baekhyun leans over and whispers into Kyungsoo’s ear.

“Do what?” Kyungsoo shifts and stares down at Chanyeol. “Oh the eye thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Since I can remember,” Kyungsoo says sympathetically. “It was scarier when we were kids. But you get used to it.”

“Really?”

“…sorta.”

“Say, why does he have to be on my lap again?”

“Too tall to shove onto two seats, but not valuable enough to give three,” Junmyeon calls from the front. “But if it’s uncomfortable back there, I guess you could always push him to the floor. He’s unconscious so he wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s not that bad,” Baekhyun says as he nervously takes off his jacket and drapes the sleeve over Chanyeol’s eyes, fervently hoping he’ll be able to sleep that night.

•

Luhan guffaws for what seems like the twentieth time in the hour. It’s loud and annoying, but not as bad as what had preceded him. Jongdae’s ceaseless monologue or Minseok’s habit of nervously gripping the seat and exaggeratedly swaying to any change of direction didn’t exactly set high standards.

Luhan shoves the phone into the corner of Kris’ vision, with a grainy picture of Chanyeol using Baekhyun’s legs as a pillow from what Kris can make out from it.

“Sehun captioned it, Chanyeol giving Baekhyun head,” Luhan laughs loudly again before shaking his head.

Kris rolls his eyes.

“Oh and turn right at exit 456.”

“How far is that?”

“Three more. About…” Luhan squints. “Fifteen minutes or so.”

Kris was out of options, so he puts up with it. Even if he came with his own catches, Luhan got the job done, and Kris supposed with this crew, that’s about as much as you could ask for. Life, after all, was about weighing options. He wanted to reach the destination more than he wanted to kick Luhan and his irritating laughter out of the car.

Luhan laughs loudly again, pounding against the armrest hard enough to cause the whole chair to shake before reaching over and smacking Kris (really hard) across the arm.

“Listen to this…”

Kris takes a deep breath and reweighs his options, reminding himself that murder was an escape, not a solution.

~○~

| random antics III  |








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|| discontinuation notice ||