i've got a post-it with your name on it
Title: I've Got a Post-It with Your Name on It
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Taeyong/Ten
Genre: Canon Compliant
Word Count: 2,500
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and neither the characters nor the Universe are mine.
Summary: Ten starts a prank war that Taeyong's determined to win.
Taeyong thinks he should probably be above this, but petulance, a stubbornness that will only be worn down when he’s thirty, and maybe, if he’s willing to admit, a running scoreboard he keeps against Ten prompt him to retaliate. He’s got to be clever about it though, because Ten’s a lot craftier than people think. He’s got innocent eyes and crinkly smiles and shy, pretty glances that fool everybody into thinking he’s an angel, but Taeyong knows better.
He stares adamantly at his sock drawer, in which all the socks are now folded into mismatched pairs. He’s got to give it to Ten; he had committed to finding the worst combinations possible. Green and orange, Harry Potter and Naruto.
What he needs, is a team. Naturally, Jaehyun is the first person he approaches. “Give up, buddy,” Jaehyun says, half good-naturedly and half flippantly. “It’s Ten. You’ll never win.”
“Not by myself,” he responds silkily, playing to Jaehyun’s ego. “Aren’t you supposed to be the best at these kinds of things?”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” Jaehyun narrows his eyes at him, but there’s a smirk forming on his face. Say what you want about Taeyong, he’s not slow to see his moment of win. Jaehyun predictably folds. “Fine, I’m in. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Jaehyun helps Taeyong break into Ten’s cupboard in the middle of the night, and they proceed to pilfer every single left shoe Ten’s got. The stolen goods are transported to the roof, and arranged into Instagram worthy geometric shapes: circles following the colour wheel, stars with the yellow shoes for points. Taeyong takes a billion selfies with them, with Jaehyun encouraging increasingly provocative poses for each one. He tags his members, and captions it with which one do you think suits me most?
“None of them,” Ten says to him flatly the next time they meet. According to Mark, Ten had hobbled around the entire dorm trying to locate his missing footwear before resigning himself to borrowing Johnny’s ugly ass Nikes. Taeyong only wishes he’d been awake to witness it. “Because they’re mine. Also Jaehyun hyung’s dead to me.”
“Who me?” Jaehyun says, completely unaffected, ruffling Ten’s hair as he passes them by. Taeyong knew he picked well.
Ten’s eyes glint, playful and challenging all at once. “This isn’t over.”
“Bring it,” Taeyong grins in response, the competitive part in him opening and showing its teeth.
--
It’s no secret Johnny’s got a soft spot for Ten a river wide. Taeyong’s got to pre-empt his recruitment. “Join my team,” he declares, waving a chocolate bar in front of Johnny as a bribe.
“Too late,” Johnny laughs, snatching the chocolate from Taeyong anyway. “Ten got to me, like, two days ago.” The members are slowly catching wind of this little game of theirs. The Dreamies call it Double T’s Turf War. Bets have been placed. Taeyong doesn’t want to admit he’s being a bad influence. “You’re getting slow, leader.”
“Fine, but you owe me five bucks for that,” Taeyong says, because of course Johnny doesn’t deserve free treats. “I should’ve gone to Doyoung instead.”
“Aw come on, I’ll let you in on what Ten’s planning.”
Taeyong brightens. “You’ll be my double agent?”
Johnny snorts. “Hell no, Ten will have my skin. Just this once.”
Look up, Johnny warns, and Taeyong spends the next few days squinting at the ceiling before stepping into a room, and carefully monitoring doorways just in case Ten pulls the classic drop-a-bucket-of-water-onto-unsuspecting-person trick.
“Too easy,” Jaehyun says dismissively, but Taeyong sees him eyeing the door warily as well. He’s most certainly also on Ten’s hit list. “He’ll go for something bigger.”
If Ten’s plan is to lull them into a false sense of security, it’s definitely working. He gets up blearily after a week baring no hint of disaster, and makes his way through the darkened living room. His fingers find the switch for the light, and then the switch for the fan.
Click, and he’s suddenly standing in a whirlwind of glitter.
--
Of course Ten would be totally devious about this, and pick a day in which they’re all meant to go to the studio, and Taeyong has less than five minutes in the shower. Someone’s already banging on his door.
It’s Doyoung, of course. “Are you alive in there,” he wants to know, “because any longer and I’m coming in.”
The only thing worse than stumbling out and having everyone see him in a bodysuit of glitter, is Doyoung stumbling in and seeing him in a bodysuit of glitter. Taeyong reluctantly comes out with his hair still glittering in five shades of rainbow. Doyoung snaps photos before he even has time to react.
“I see you’ve already picked sides,” Taeyong observes mournfully.
Doyoung ignores him. “This doesn’t even need a filter, you’re so… sparkly.”
Chenle and Jisung are playing with the fallout in the living room, shrieking and tossing glitter bombs at each other. Taeyong doesn’t want to think about the clean-up when they return. “Out,” he instructs, rolling his eyes when they coo at his hair.
“Hyung’s rocking the glitter look,” Chenle exclaims in delight, and Taeyong doesn’t know whether he should be flattered or sad.
“Sad,” Jaehyun says. “Definitely sad. I can’t believe you fell for that.”
Taeyong scowls at him, jamming a beanie over his Katy Perry worthy hair. There’re fans waiting outside the studio door, as per usual, and Taeyong shifts nervously when they approach. He tries to figure out how best to hide behind the giants of their team, but Lucas giggles at him, skipping away with a blithe Sorry, hyung!
Okay, fine, Lucas was obviously going to be in Ten’s team.
He jumps when a hand pries the beanie off his head. “It suits you,” Ten says cheerfully, holding his protective headgear just out of reach. The fans are gonna have a field day. “You look pretty like that.”
Taeyong blinks, slightly blindsided, his hands still making grabby motions. “What?”
“I said,” Ten leans in closer, his lips curved up, and Taeyong feels a thrill down his spine, “you look pretty like that. Why hide it?”
And then he waltzes away, leaving Taeyong staring after him.
--
Taeyong thinks he’s thus far successfully kept his not-quite-there-it’s-not-a-big-deal-if-I-ignore-it crush on Ten under wraps. It’s not heart stopping (not yet, a traitorous voice in him supplies), but it is a little unfair, the way Ten moves, and you can’t really fault Taeyong for looking, or wanting to touch. It’s more than a little unfair too, how he so easily slips past Taeyong’s defenses with a wink, or a small smile, or a light-hearted word. The prank war’s making it decidedly harder, because it simply gives him plenty more excuses to observe and hang around the subject of interest.
But if Ten notices, he doesn’t say anything.
And so it goes for the next few weeks: Taeyong coaxes Mark and Haechan to his side, and they Nic Cage every inch of Ten’s bedroom, from his pillow, to his laptop, to the inside of his mug.
“We laminated Nic’s face so that Ten sees him every time he drinks his coffee,” Haechan reports, accomplished, and Taeyong feels like a proud parent.
But of course, Ten gets his hands on Renjun and Jaemin, and when 127 are out recording, the two manage to duct tape all of Taeyong’s belongings to the ceiling.
“You have no imagination,” Taeyong complains the next time they see each other.
“Says the guy who uses Nicholas Cage as his inspiration,” Ten scoffs.
There’s a part in him itching for something more, the same part that sometimes chases after Ten’s image as he glides across the stage, the same part that jerks his eyes away when Ten stares back. Something that’d surprise Ten the same way he always seems to do Taeyong.
So when Ten stays back late for practice, Taeyong decides to get his own hands dirty. He delves into Ten’s backpack, and cling wraps his toiletries shut several times over.
Ten squints at him suspiciously when he steps out of the dance studio. “Why are you here?”
Taeyong shrugs. “Got distracted watching you,” he says nonchalantly, and revels in the flush that makes its way to Ten’s cheeks. He hands Ten his backpack, all wide-eyed innocence and smiles. “Go shower, I’ll wait for you.”
It takes several minutes for Ten to discover that water and cling foil don’t mix, and it’d take a solid ten minutes to get his shampoo open. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, leader,” he yells from the stall, while Taeyong clutches at his side laughing.
“Here, here, use mine,” Taeyong eventually relents, passing his own stuff over the door. He leaves then, to halt the imagery the sounds of the shower send his way, and waits patiently outside for Ten to be done.
Ten looks amused and comfortable when he finally comes out, hair damp and soft. Something in Taeyong’s chest constricts at the sight. He stands, feeling oddly daring. Go hard or go home, that’s what they’re both gunning for, isn’t it? Taeyong leans in, the same way Ten’s wont to do, and breathes in, deep.
Ten’s breath catches.
“You smell like me,” Taeyong murmurs, voice dipping an inch. Ten’s gaze drops down, shy, before it flicks up hesitantly again. “Suits you.”
--
Word goes round that the Turf War is just a front for a Flirt-Free-for-All, and naturally, things change. Unbidden, Mark and Haechan strip down Nic Cage from Ten’s walls, and put up Taeyong’s laminated face instead. After a visit to the stationary store, Renjun and Jaemin come back with multi-coloured post-its adorned with Ten’s name, and decorate Taeyong’s ceiling with them. Chenle and Jisung are simply taking the opportunity to tuck flowers into every nook and corner Double T might happen to. Taeyong doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.
“I’d cry,” Jaehyun tells him.
Johnny shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That’s a new low, using the Dreamies to flirt.”
“I gave them no such instruction,” Taeyong flounders.
But somebody gets the brilliant idea to take this further-it has to be Yuta, the devil -and Taeyong comes home one night after a recording session to find melting ice cubes arranged in a massive heart on his bed. He considers taking a photo and demanding the identity of the culprit in their chat, but decides against it when he realizes some of them might get the wrong idea. His sheets are soaked after all.
Goddamnit, Yuta.
It’s late, and his tiredness is eroding his self-control, and perhaps it’s the culmination of this game that they’re playing that leads him to Ten’s room. “Sleepover?” he suggests, and is sounds like a truce, somehow.
Ten raises an eyebrow, pretending to consider, but the corners of his mouth turn up. He shuffles to the side, making room, and Taeyong crawls in, pulse thudding in anticipation. Ten’s sheets smell familiar, somehow. It takes a while for Taeyong to place the scent.
“You’re still using my shampoo?”
Ten scowls, and it’s a pity it’s dim, Taeyong can’t quite tell if that’s a blush on his cheeks. “And so?”
“Nothing.” The irony of the whole situation, a bunch of pranks that led them here, causes him to let out a breath of laughter. Was this Ten’s endgame all along? No matter, he relaxes, shifting closer to Ten. “I like it, you already know that.” He slips an arm tentatively around Ten’s waist, fitting a steady palm over his hip. Ten softens in response, finding the crook of Taeyong’s neck and burying his face there.
“Was it silly of me to start a war for a more of your attention?”
Taeyong frowns. There’s an unsure edge to the question that shouldn’t be there, because surely Ten knows just how many times Taeyong has to fight to tear his gaze away. “No,” he says, thumb rubbing comforting circles around Ten’s hipbone. “There must have been easier ways to get me here though.”
“You’d think so,” Ten huffs, “but flirting with you is like flirting with a brick wall.”
Taeyong doesn’t know if he should be insulted.
Definitely insulted, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jaehyun provides.
“Untrue,” he therefore objects petulantly. “You monopolize more than enough of my attention as it already is.”
Ten makes a delighted, lovely sound, and he leans in, emboldened. They kiss, brief and gentle, still shy but hopeful. Taeyong’s utterly besotted, and completely taken by surprise by it. His chest feels tight, almost too tight, with affection. Ten as ever, is unexpected.
“So that means I don’t need Renjun’s and Jaemin’s help anymore?”
“Definitely,” Taeyong agrees fervently. “Please call your minions off.”
“Hm,” Ten says, nervous and mischievous all at once.
Taeyong narrows his eyes at him. “What did you do?”
“If you see anything strange in the bathtub tomorrow,” he kisses Taeyong’s protest away, “it was Yuta’s idea.”
----
1. These two get me.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Taeyong/Ten
Genre: Canon Compliant
Word Count: 2,500
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and neither the characters nor the Universe are mine.
Summary: Ten starts a prank war that Taeyong's determined to win.
Taeyong thinks he should probably be above this, but petulance, a stubbornness that will only be worn down when he’s thirty, and maybe, if he’s willing to admit, a running scoreboard he keeps against Ten prompt him to retaliate. He’s got to be clever about it though, because Ten’s a lot craftier than people think. He’s got innocent eyes and crinkly smiles and shy, pretty glances that fool everybody into thinking he’s an angel, but Taeyong knows better.
He stares adamantly at his sock drawer, in which all the socks are now folded into mismatched pairs. He’s got to give it to Ten; he had committed to finding the worst combinations possible. Green and orange, Harry Potter and Naruto.
What he needs, is a team. Naturally, Jaehyun is the first person he approaches. “Give up, buddy,” Jaehyun says, half good-naturedly and half flippantly. “It’s Ten. You’ll never win.”
“Not by myself,” he responds silkily, playing to Jaehyun’s ego. “Aren’t you supposed to be the best at these kinds of things?”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” Jaehyun narrows his eyes at him, but there’s a smirk forming on his face. Say what you want about Taeyong, he’s not slow to see his moment of win. Jaehyun predictably folds. “Fine, I’m in. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Jaehyun helps Taeyong break into Ten’s cupboard in the middle of the night, and they proceed to pilfer every single left shoe Ten’s got. The stolen goods are transported to the roof, and arranged into Instagram worthy geometric shapes: circles following the colour wheel, stars with the yellow shoes for points. Taeyong takes a billion selfies with them, with Jaehyun encouraging increasingly provocative poses for each one. He tags his members, and captions it with which one do you think suits me most?
“None of them,” Ten says to him flatly the next time they meet. According to Mark, Ten had hobbled around the entire dorm trying to locate his missing footwear before resigning himself to borrowing Johnny’s ugly ass Nikes. Taeyong only wishes he’d been awake to witness it. “Because they’re mine. Also Jaehyun hyung’s dead to me.”
“Who me?” Jaehyun says, completely unaffected, ruffling Ten’s hair as he passes them by. Taeyong knew he picked well.
Ten’s eyes glint, playful and challenging all at once. “This isn’t over.”
“Bring it,” Taeyong grins in response, the competitive part in him opening and showing its teeth.
--
It’s no secret Johnny’s got a soft spot for Ten a river wide. Taeyong’s got to pre-empt his recruitment. “Join my team,” he declares, waving a chocolate bar in front of Johnny as a bribe.
“Too late,” Johnny laughs, snatching the chocolate from Taeyong anyway. “Ten got to me, like, two days ago.” The members are slowly catching wind of this little game of theirs. The Dreamies call it Double T’s Turf War. Bets have been placed. Taeyong doesn’t want to admit he’s being a bad influence. “You’re getting slow, leader.”
“Fine, but you owe me five bucks for that,” Taeyong says, because of course Johnny doesn’t deserve free treats. “I should’ve gone to Doyoung instead.”
“Aw come on, I’ll let you in on what Ten’s planning.”
Taeyong brightens. “You’ll be my double agent?”
Johnny snorts. “Hell no, Ten will have my skin. Just this once.”
Look up, Johnny warns, and Taeyong spends the next few days squinting at the ceiling before stepping into a room, and carefully monitoring doorways just in case Ten pulls the classic drop-a-bucket-of-water-onto-unsuspecting-person trick.
“Too easy,” Jaehyun says dismissively, but Taeyong sees him eyeing the door warily as well. He’s most certainly also on Ten’s hit list. “He’ll go for something bigger.”
If Ten’s plan is to lull them into a false sense of security, it’s definitely working. He gets up blearily after a week baring no hint of disaster, and makes his way through the darkened living room. His fingers find the switch for the light, and then the switch for the fan.
Click, and he’s suddenly standing in a whirlwind of glitter.
--
Of course Ten would be totally devious about this, and pick a day in which they’re all meant to go to the studio, and Taeyong has less than five minutes in the shower. Someone’s already banging on his door.
It’s Doyoung, of course. “Are you alive in there,” he wants to know, “because any longer and I’m coming in.”
The only thing worse than stumbling out and having everyone see him in a bodysuit of glitter, is Doyoung stumbling in and seeing him in a bodysuit of glitter. Taeyong reluctantly comes out with his hair still glittering in five shades of rainbow. Doyoung snaps photos before he even has time to react.
“I see you’ve already picked sides,” Taeyong observes mournfully.
Doyoung ignores him. “This doesn’t even need a filter, you’re so… sparkly.”
Chenle and Jisung are playing with the fallout in the living room, shrieking and tossing glitter bombs at each other. Taeyong doesn’t want to think about the clean-up when they return. “Out,” he instructs, rolling his eyes when they coo at his hair.
“Hyung’s rocking the glitter look,” Chenle exclaims in delight, and Taeyong doesn’t know whether he should be flattered or sad.
“Sad,” Jaehyun says. “Definitely sad. I can’t believe you fell for that.”
Taeyong scowls at him, jamming a beanie over his Katy Perry worthy hair. There’re fans waiting outside the studio door, as per usual, and Taeyong shifts nervously when they approach. He tries to figure out how best to hide behind the giants of their team, but Lucas giggles at him, skipping away with a blithe Sorry, hyung!
Okay, fine, Lucas was obviously going to be in Ten’s team.
He jumps when a hand pries the beanie off his head. “It suits you,” Ten says cheerfully, holding his protective headgear just out of reach. The fans are gonna have a field day. “You look pretty like that.”
Taeyong blinks, slightly blindsided, his hands still making grabby motions. “What?”
“I said,” Ten leans in closer, his lips curved up, and Taeyong feels a thrill down his spine, “you look pretty like that. Why hide it?”
And then he waltzes away, leaving Taeyong staring after him.
--
Taeyong thinks he’s thus far successfully kept his not-quite-there-it’s-not-a-big-deal-if-I-ignore-it crush on Ten under wraps. It’s not heart stopping (not yet, a traitorous voice in him supplies), but it is a little unfair, the way Ten moves, and you can’t really fault Taeyong for looking, or wanting to touch. It’s more than a little unfair too, how he so easily slips past Taeyong’s defenses with a wink, or a small smile, or a light-hearted word. The prank war’s making it decidedly harder, because it simply gives him plenty more excuses to observe and hang around the subject of interest.
But if Ten notices, he doesn’t say anything.
And so it goes for the next few weeks: Taeyong coaxes Mark and Haechan to his side, and they Nic Cage every inch of Ten’s bedroom, from his pillow, to his laptop, to the inside of his mug.
“We laminated Nic’s face so that Ten sees him every time he drinks his coffee,” Haechan reports, accomplished, and Taeyong feels like a proud parent.
But of course, Ten gets his hands on Renjun and Jaemin, and when 127 are out recording, the two manage to duct tape all of Taeyong’s belongings to the ceiling.
“You have no imagination,” Taeyong complains the next time they see each other.
“Says the guy who uses Nicholas Cage as his inspiration,” Ten scoffs.
There’s a part in him itching for something more, the same part that sometimes chases after Ten’s image as he glides across the stage, the same part that jerks his eyes away when Ten stares back. Something that’d surprise Ten the same way he always seems to do Taeyong.
So when Ten stays back late for practice, Taeyong decides to get his own hands dirty. He delves into Ten’s backpack, and cling wraps his toiletries shut several times over.
Ten squints at him suspiciously when he steps out of the dance studio. “Why are you here?”
Taeyong shrugs. “Got distracted watching you,” he says nonchalantly, and revels in the flush that makes its way to Ten’s cheeks. He hands Ten his backpack, all wide-eyed innocence and smiles. “Go shower, I’ll wait for you.”
It takes several minutes for Ten to discover that water and cling foil don’t mix, and it’d take a solid ten minutes to get his shampoo open. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, leader,” he yells from the stall, while Taeyong clutches at his side laughing.
“Here, here, use mine,” Taeyong eventually relents, passing his own stuff over the door. He leaves then, to halt the imagery the sounds of the shower send his way, and waits patiently outside for Ten to be done.
Ten looks amused and comfortable when he finally comes out, hair damp and soft. Something in Taeyong’s chest constricts at the sight. He stands, feeling oddly daring. Go hard or go home, that’s what they’re both gunning for, isn’t it? Taeyong leans in, the same way Ten’s wont to do, and breathes in, deep.
Ten’s breath catches.
“You smell like me,” Taeyong murmurs, voice dipping an inch. Ten’s gaze drops down, shy, before it flicks up hesitantly again. “Suits you.”
--
Word goes round that the Turf War is just a front for a Flirt-Free-for-All, and naturally, things change. Unbidden, Mark and Haechan strip down Nic Cage from Ten’s walls, and put up Taeyong’s laminated face instead. After a visit to the stationary store, Renjun and Jaemin come back with multi-coloured post-its adorned with Ten’s name, and decorate Taeyong’s ceiling with them. Chenle and Jisung are simply taking the opportunity to tuck flowers into every nook and corner Double T might happen to. Taeyong doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.
“I’d cry,” Jaehyun tells him.
Johnny shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That’s a new low, using the Dreamies to flirt.”
“I gave them no such instruction,” Taeyong flounders.
But somebody gets the brilliant idea to take this further-it has to be Yuta, the devil -and Taeyong comes home one night after a recording session to find melting ice cubes arranged in a massive heart on his bed. He considers taking a photo and demanding the identity of the culprit in their chat, but decides against it when he realizes some of them might get the wrong idea. His sheets are soaked after all.
Goddamnit, Yuta.
It’s late, and his tiredness is eroding his self-control, and perhaps it’s the culmination of this game that they’re playing that leads him to Ten’s room. “Sleepover?” he suggests, and is sounds like a truce, somehow.
Ten raises an eyebrow, pretending to consider, but the corners of his mouth turn up. He shuffles to the side, making room, and Taeyong crawls in, pulse thudding in anticipation. Ten’s sheets smell familiar, somehow. It takes a while for Taeyong to place the scent.
“You’re still using my shampoo?”
Ten scowls, and it’s a pity it’s dim, Taeyong can’t quite tell if that’s a blush on his cheeks. “And so?”
“Nothing.” The irony of the whole situation, a bunch of pranks that led them here, causes him to let out a breath of laughter. Was this Ten’s endgame all along? No matter, he relaxes, shifting closer to Ten. “I like it, you already know that.” He slips an arm tentatively around Ten’s waist, fitting a steady palm over his hip. Ten softens in response, finding the crook of Taeyong’s neck and burying his face there.
“Was it silly of me to start a war for a more of your attention?”
Taeyong frowns. There’s an unsure edge to the question that shouldn’t be there, because surely Ten knows just how many times Taeyong has to fight to tear his gaze away. “No,” he says, thumb rubbing comforting circles around Ten’s hipbone. “There must have been easier ways to get me here though.”
“You’d think so,” Ten huffs, “but flirting with you is like flirting with a brick wall.”
Taeyong doesn’t know if he should be insulted.
Definitely insulted, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jaehyun provides.
“Untrue,” he therefore objects petulantly. “You monopolize more than enough of my attention as it already is.”
Ten makes a delighted, lovely sound, and he leans in, emboldened. They kiss, brief and gentle, still shy but hopeful. Taeyong’s utterly besotted, and completely taken by surprise by it. His chest feels tight, almost too tight, with affection. Ten as ever, is unexpected.
“So that means I don’t need Renjun’s and Jaemin’s help anymore?”
“Definitely,” Taeyong agrees fervently. “Please call your minions off.”
“Hm,” Ten says, nervous and mischievous all at once.
Taeyong narrows his eyes at him. “What did you do?”
“If you see anything strange in the bathtub tomorrow,” he kisses Taeyong’s protest away, “it was Yuta’s idea.”
----
1. These two get me.