It's Not Fun Without a Gun; PG-15; Jinki/Jonghyun/Kibum
It's Not Fun Without a Gun (or a fic where Jonghyun and Jinki are whipped)
Jinki/Jonghyun, Jonghyun/Kibum, Jinki/Kibum; PG-13; ~2,000w
A/N: so this started because of my partner in crime intendedsarcasm who gives me the idea to make a crime-partner!jongyu, but then yeminki and stickyblocks injected onjongkey love to my head, so here it is, a fail mixed of both orz. i have no idea how to connect every parts, and writer’s block really makes me… /punch self. some parts are actually easy to write, but the others, especially the beginning and the end AND THE TITLE FML IDEK, are hell. seriously.
Jinki stares in awe when Kibum tells him about it; a little naïve dream to steal these rare jewelries he promised his parents to collect when he is young from all the rich guys around the country. Kibum laughs at Jinki's but wouldn't it be a crime?, pokes his cheek, right before this Jonghyun guy comes and gives Kibum a kiss, a short boy with dark hair whose face is perfect and body is flawless, a boy with strong expression and appearance that always intimidate him, that makes him steps back and gives up about his crush to the younger boy who his tutor introduce as a guy who can help your English.
He has forgotten about it, rarely talk to Kibum after he has submitted his final English project, until the result of his exams is pasted at the bulletin board, all around perfect scores that makes himself blinked in shock. It is unique and intriguing, his teachers say, you have raw and real talent, and you can be something if you use it in the right way, a suggestion which Jinki laughs at.
That night, he gets a visitor.
“No one is as smart as you, Jinki,” he says, and Jinki feels his knees buckle when the other, shorter guy, releases the strong grip around his neck. “I need you.”
He doesn’t know that it is possible to make your ridiculous dream comes true. But seeing Kibum, maybe nothing’s impossible.
Jonghyun pushes him away and pulls Kibum closer to him when it’s the time for them to go, kissing his neck, sucking his lips, making him want to close his eyes and wake up from this dream-like reality. Kibum giggles, low and soft, and Jonghyun lets go as fast as he breathes him in. The youngest turns to him then, a predatory smile that scares him, though he cannot deny that the soft press against his lips is addicting and sweet, unforgettable. When he pulls back, thick eyelashes and hoping look reflected against Kibum’s eyes, Jinki smiles.
It is awkward without Kibum between them. They don’t talk, only occasional remark, because they know in their head and their heart that they are doing this ridiculous thing, together like this, it’s all for the same man, and no matter what they said in front of the said man, it’s not fun to share.
Jonghyun smokes, a lot. He smokes two, three boxes of cigarette a day, so it really is a miracle that he hasn’t got a lung cancer with that kind of lifestyle since the first time he starts smoking four years ago, like Kibum said. It makes me more alert, he always smiles his answer, trying to get away from Jinki’s disapproving glare, so that I can save your sorry ass. Jinki never replies back, only annoyed glances and mumbled complains whenever Jonghyun lights another cigarette, and all Jonghyun does is laughing at him and keeps driving.
After Jonghyun snatches his wrist and pulls him along to jump from the twenty seventh floor of the building they are working at to the empty swimming pool at the bottom, a second before the bomb Jinki planted under the bed lamp before blows up, and tells him to thank Menthol Lights instead of him, the older lets Jonghyun smokes as much as he want. It will kill him someday, he still believes, and he will die earlier if they are living a normal live, but they don’t. So Jinki keeps his eyes at the marked map, telling directions, every time he catches a sight of smoke from the boy at the driving seat.
He even starts asking for a stick, and that’s the first time Jonghyun laughs for a good five minutes. He almost crashes their car to the river along the road, but at least they are talking now.
He fixes the rare view mirror as the connecting tone is echoing at the empty road, and Jinki tucks his chin against the dashboard. There’s a click, and he can tell that both of them breathe in relieve at the same second, same time; so Kibum means a lot to both of them. It’s kind of ridiculous.
“How is it going baby,” Kibum’s sleepy voice is loud and clear in the middle of the silent night, and they look at each other, a wide grin on both of their faces.
Jinki clears his throat first. “Um,” he says, taking the phone closer to his mouth as he speaks, and Jonghyun stares in amusement, a cigarette between his lips, “so we’re kind of lost.”
There’s a silence, two, three, and a light snore is heard before a shuffle, maybe Kibum throwing the blanket around him, getting to his feet as he tries to take his glasses from the bedside, as he tries to take the laptop from the floor. “I can’t believe you two,” he mumbles, yawns, and both of them tears up when Kibum tells the coordinate of their location grudgingly.
To say that he doesn’t expect it at all would be a lie, to be honest.
The day after he kisses Jonghyun is terrifying, to put it in a nutshell. The day after Jonghyun lets himself to be pushed against the mattress, it makes him scared. The day after their first sex, he doesn’t dare to talk to Kibum.
(The thing is: he knows that their relationship is opened and free and wild, but he also knows that Jonghyun has something more for Kibum, what’s with the way he moans Kibum’s name every time he fucks those girls he picks up at the street, the way he tells those girls to call him Hyung instead of Oppa, even sappy things like the way his eyes light up every time Kibum calls to check on them. He knows it, so it scares him that at that night, that night, it’s his name that slipped from Jonghyun’s lips, breathy and sexual and heavy and he moans Jonghyun’s name back.)
Jonghyun forces the cell phone to Jinki’s hand with laughter on his face, even before he can open his eyes and realize that the morning has come. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he mentally curses, and then Kibum is on the line, Jonghyun mouths, watching against the door frame.
“So,” Kibum sounds like he wants to laugh, but there’s nothing new there. Except, he lifts his body and stares blankly at the topples over Jonghyun, a loud laugh around the room, and maybe Kibum can hear it because a second later he snorts, rather harshly, though it’s not anger or disappointment or even annoyance; genuine amusement. “I heard someone snaps and finally gives in.”
Jinki groans and wonders if Kibum will kill him if he hangs up. He probably will. “Can you just let me sleep.”
“Oh my God, I knew it,” Kibum laughs out loud, shameless, and Jinki thinks that the first thing to do when they reach home: shave Kibum’s head until he cries like a little girl before the younger cuts his balls off.
Sometimes he thinks he can’t do it anymore. Game after game, disguises after disguises, places after places; they’re not for him. He is boring and monotone, the kind of guy who mothers want and people call nerd, kind of guy who can’t complain when other kids ask him to do their homework, kind of guy whose argument to become a writer is caught in the middle of his throat when his dad told him that he needs, must, be a doctor, to make his whole family proud.
He is definitely not the kind of guy whose nights are spent to plan a perfect crime, whose money is used to buy suits and wigs to make him look like someone else, whose days are filled with road trips to another location far away from the last, to avoid getting caught. He is definitely not the kind of guy who thinks running away and escaping is thrilling and exciting, unlike Jonghyun or Kibum, no matter how much he loves them both. So sometimes he thinks, this is not for me, and I really need to end this.
On those nights though, Jonghyun will stay and cuddle beside him, the usual scent of minty smoke disappears from his body, and all Jinki can feel is warmth and need and a quite we’re doing this together, Hyung. He knows that maybe Kibum told him to do it, because Kibum always knows what he is thinking even though he never say anything about his worries. He knows that maybe Jonghyun just doesn’t want to be Kibum’s puppet alone, that maybe he just need a navigator and a planner and like Kibum has always said, you are the most genius of all, Jinki, like Kibum has always told him since the first night he broke in to Jinki’s single apartment to talk to him. He knows that maybe Jonghyun’s reassurance is neither real nor permanent, but it’s always more than enough to make him stay, to make him wake up the next morning with a new plan and designs in his head, ready to be sketched.
He never leaves in the end, and he wonders whether it is because of Kibum’s happy laugh during their next phone call, or because of Jonghyun’s bright smile when he finds Jinki busy with papers and pencils. (It is a mixed of both.)
Three hundred and fifty five days later.
Three hundred and fifty five days later, and Jonghyun’s shoulder is bleeding, red and blood and there’s a hole filled with a bullet, hot and burning, and the light in his eyes are dimming, slowly but surely. Three hundred and fifty five days later, and there’s a police serene in front of the place they’re stayed at, men’s loud and angry voices screaming and shouting and yelling at them, telling them to get out. Three hundred and fifty five days later, and Jinki takes the gun from Jonghyun’s weak grip despite the younger’s low protest, points it to the big window, points it to the moon outside. Three hundred and fifty five days later, and he has almost forgotten how to drive, clumsy and messy as he presses Jonghyun’s wound hard with the ripped of his clothe, ignores the painful moan the younger lets out. Three hundred and fifty five days later, and he realizes halfway to their hometown that he left all the purpose of the long journey they have, that those purposes are still glued to the bottom of the bed, probably have been found by those who are looking for it, for them.
Three hundred and fifty five days later, and it’s the day when Kibum tells him, “Game’s over.”
Kibum looks skinnier than the last time, paler and sharper, but absolutely gorgeous, even under the dimmed light of the hospital. Jonghyun is breathing softly, fog of air against the oxygen mask, and Jinki knows that he is awake from the way he tilts his head, from the way his eyes are opened a little as they hear the small voice of the creaking door. Jinki turns in his seat, his hospital gown hung loosely against his body because his own shirt is soaked with blood.
He expects Kibum to maybe shout at them because they ruin his dream or maybe a punch on the face or a kick at the crotch because, hey, we have spent a year to do this and you ruin it by leaving it at the fucking hotel room you last stayed at are you a fucking idiot?
But then Kibum sobs to his chest and he is reaching for Jonghyun’s hand and Jonghyun is laughing and Kibum is crying and his brain stops working and all Jinki does is hugging back and maybe crushing him a little as he trails little kisses along his shoulder blade and he can feel Kibum brings both of them closer to Jonghyun and there’s a gentle pressure on his back and it’s Jonghyun’s touches against his skin and it’s him, it’s Kibum, it’s Jonghyun, it’s one, and the game is over, they all know, but Kibum cries, cries, cries beautiful tears, tears, cries, welcome.
I’m glad you’re home.
p.s.: and because i'm shameless, vote for me? i'll love you forever if you do? :D
Jinki/Jonghyun, Jonghyun/Kibum, Jinki/Kibum; PG-13; ~2,000w
A/N: so this started because of my partner in crime intendedsarcasm who gives me the idea to make a crime-partner!jongyu, but then yeminki and stickyblocks injected onjongkey love to my head, so here it is, a fail mixed of both orz. i have no idea how to connect every parts, and writer’s block really makes me… /punch self. some parts are actually easy to write, but the others, especially the beginning and the end AND THE TITLE FML IDEK, are hell. seriously.
Jinki stares in awe when Kibum tells him about it; a little naïve dream to steal these rare jewelries he promised his parents to collect when he is young from all the rich guys around the country. Kibum laughs at Jinki's but wouldn't it be a crime?, pokes his cheek, right before this Jonghyun guy comes and gives Kibum a kiss, a short boy with dark hair whose face is perfect and body is flawless, a boy with strong expression and appearance that always intimidate him, that makes him steps back and gives up about his crush to the younger boy who his tutor introduce as a guy who can help your English.
He has forgotten about it, rarely talk to Kibum after he has submitted his final English project, until the result of his exams is pasted at the bulletin board, all around perfect scores that makes himself blinked in shock. It is unique and intriguing, his teachers say, you have raw and real talent, and you can be something if you use it in the right way, a suggestion which Jinki laughs at.
That night, he gets a visitor.
“No one is as smart as you, Jinki,” he says, and Jinki feels his knees buckle when the other, shorter guy, releases the strong grip around his neck. “I need you.”
He doesn’t know that it is possible to make your ridiculous dream comes true. But seeing Kibum, maybe nothing’s impossible.
Jonghyun pushes him away and pulls Kibum closer to him when it’s the time for them to go, kissing his neck, sucking his lips, making him want to close his eyes and wake up from this dream-like reality. Kibum giggles, low and soft, and Jonghyun lets go as fast as he breathes him in. The youngest turns to him then, a predatory smile that scares him, though he cannot deny that the soft press against his lips is addicting and sweet, unforgettable. When he pulls back, thick eyelashes and hoping look reflected against Kibum’s eyes, Jinki smiles.
It is awkward without Kibum between them. They don’t talk, only occasional remark, because they know in their head and their heart that they are doing this ridiculous thing, together like this, it’s all for the same man, and no matter what they said in front of the said man, it’s not fun to share.
Jonghyun smokes, a lot. He smokes two, three boxes of cigarette a day, so it really is a miracle that he hasn’t got a lung cancer with that kind of lifestyle since the first time he starts smoking four years ago, like Kibum said. It makes me more alert, he always smiles his answer, trying to get away from Jinki’s disapproving glare, so that I can save your sorry ass. Jinki never replies back, only annoyed glances and mumbled complains whenever Jonghyun lights another cigarette, and all Jonghyun does is laughing at him and keeps driving.
After Jonghyun snatches his wrist and pulls him along to jump from the twenty seventh floor of the building they are working at to the empty swimming pool at the bottom, a second before the bomb Jinki planted under the bed lamp before blows up, and tells him to thank Menthol Lights instead of him, the older lets Jonghyun smokes as much as he want. It will kill him someday, he still believes, and he will die earlier if they are living a normal live, but they don’t. So Jinki keeps his eyes at the marked map, telling directions, every time he catches a sight of smoke from the boy at the driving seat.
He even starts asking for a stick, and that’s the first time Jonghyun laughs for a good five minutes. He almost crashes their car to the river along the road, but at least they are talking now.
He fixes the rare view mirror as the connecting tone is echoing at the empty road, and Jinki tucks his chin against the dashboard. There’s a click, and he can tell that both of them breathe in relieve at the same second, same time; so Kibum means a lot to both of them. It’s kind of ridiculous.
“How is it going baby,” Kibum’s sleepy voice is loud and clear in the middle of the silent night, and they look at each other, a wide grin on both of their faces.
Jinki clears his throat first. “Um,” he says, taking the phone closer to his mouth as he speaks, and Jonghyun stares in amusement, a cigarette between his lips, “so we’re kind of lost.”
There’s a silence, two, three, and a light snore is heard before a shuffle, maybe Kibum throwing the blanket around him, getting to his feet as he tries to take his glasses from the bedside, as he tries to take the laptop from the floor. “I can’t believe you two,” he mumbles, yawns, and both of them tears up when Kibum tells the coordinate of their location grudgingly.
To say that he doesn’t expect it at all would be a lie, to be honest.
The day after he kisses Jonghyun is terrifying, to put it in a nutshell. The day after Jonghyun lets himself to be pushed against the mattress, it makes him scared. The day after their first sex, he doesn’t dare to talk to Kibum.
(The thing is: he knows that their relationship is opened and free and wild, but he also knows that Jonghyun has something more for Kibum, what’s with the way he moans Kibum’s name every time he fucks those girls he picks up at the street, the way he tells those girls to call him Hyung instead of Oppa, even sappy things like the way his eyes light up every time Kibum calls to check on them. He knows it, so it scares him that at that night, that night, it’s his name that slipped from Jonghyun’s lips, breathy and sexual and heavy and he moans Jonghyun’s name back.)
Jonghyun forces the cell phone to Jinki’s hand with laughter on his face, even before he can open his eyes and realize that the morning has come. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he mentally curses, and then Kibum is on the line, Jonghyun mouths, watching against the door frame.
“So,” Kibum sounds like he wants to laugh, but there’s nothing new there. Except, he lifts his body and stares blankly at the topples over Jonghyun, a loud laugh around the room, and maybe Kibum can hear it because a second later he snorts, rather harshly, though it’s not anger or disappointment or even annoyance; genuine amusement. “I heard someone snaps and finally gives in.”
Jinki groans and wonders if Kibum will kill him if he hangs up. He probably will. “Can you just let me sleep.”
“Oh my God, I knew it,” Kibum laughs out loud, shameless, and Jinki thinks that the first thing to do when they reach home: shave Kibum’s head until he cries like a little girl before the younger cuts his balls off.
Sometimes he thinks he can’t do it anymore. Game after game, disguises after disguises, places after places; they’re not for him. He is boring and monotone, the kind of guy who mothers want and people call nerd, kind of guy who can’t complain when other kids ask him to do their homework, kind of guy whose argument to become a writer is caught in the middle of his throat when his dad told him that he needs, must, be a doctor, to make his whole family proud.
He is definitely not the kind of guy whose nights are spent to plan a perfect crime, whose money is used to buy suits and wigs to make him look like someone else, whose days are filled with road trips to another location far away from the last, to avoid getting caught. He is definitely not the kind of guy who thinks running away and escaping is thrilling and exciting, unlike Jonghyun or Kibum, no matter how much he loves them both. So sometimes he thinks, this is not for me, and I really need to end this.
On those nights though, Jonghyun will stay and cuddle beside him, the usual scent of minty smoke disappears from his body, and all Jinki can feel is warmth and need and a quite we’re doing this together, Hyung. He knows that maybe Kibum told him to do it, because Kibum always knows what he is thinking even though he never say anything about his worries. He knows that maybe Jonghyun just doesn’t want to be Kibum’s puppet alone, that maybe he just need a navigator and a planner and like Kibum has always said, you are the most genius of all, Jinki, like Kibum has always told him since the first night he broke in to Jinki’s single apartment to talk to him. He knows that maybe Jonghyun’s reassurance is neither real nor permanent, but it’s always more than enough to make him stay, to make him wake up the next morning with a new plan and designs in his head, ready to be sketched.
He never leaves in the end, and he wonders whether it is because of Kibum’s happy laugh during their next phone call, or because of Jonghyun’s bright smile when he finds Jinki busy with papers and pencils. (It is a mixed of both.)
Three hundred and fifty five days later.
Three hundred and fifty five days later, and Jonghyun’s shoulder is bleeding, red and blood and there’s a hole filled with a bullet, hot and burning, and the light in his eyes are dimming, slowly but surely. Three hundred and fifty five days later, and there’s a police serene in front of the place they’re stayed at, men’s loud and angry voices screaming and shouting and yelling at them, telling them to get out. Three hundred and fifty five days later, and Jinki takes the gun from Jonghyun’s weak grip despite the younger’s low protest, points it to the big window, points it to the moon outside. Three hundred and fifty five days later, and he has almost forgotten how to drive, clumsy and messy as he presses Jonghyun’s wound hard with the ripped of his clothe, ignores the painful moan the younger lets out. Three hundred and fifty five days later, and he realizes halfway to their hometown that he left all the purpose of the long journey they have, that those purposes are still glued to the bottom of the bed, probably have been found by those who are looking for it, for them.
Three hundred and fifty five days later, and it’s the day when Kibum tells him, “Game’s over.”
Kibum looks skinnier than the last time, paler and sharper, but absolutely gorgeous, even under the dimmed light of the hospital. Jonghyun is breathing softly, fog of air against the oxygen mask, and Jinki knows that he is awake from the way he tilts his head, from the way his eyes are opened a little as they hear the small voice of the creaking door. Jinki turns in his seat, his hospital gown hung loosely against his body because his own shirt is soaked with blood.
He expects Kibum to maybe shout at them because they ruin his dream or maybe a punch on the face or a kick at the crotch because, hey, we have spent a year to do this and you ruin it by leaving it at the fucking hotel room you last stayed at are you a fucking idiot?
But then Kibum sobs to his chest and he is reaching for Jonghyun’s hand and Jonghyun is laughing and Kibum is crying and his brain stops working and all Jinki does is hugging back and maybe crushing him a little as he trails little kisses along his shoulder blade and he can feel Kibum brings both of them closer to Jonghyun and there’s a gentle pressure on his back and it’s Jonghyun’s touches against his skin and it’s him, it’s Kibum, it’s Jonghyun, it’s one, and the game is over, they all know, but Kibum cries, cries, cries beautiful tears, tears, cries, welcome.
I’m glad you’re home.
p.s.: and because i'm shameless, vote for me? i'll love you forever if you do? :D