Super Junior AU; Various Pairings; Drabbles 15
Title: Drabbles 15
Fandom: Super Junior AU (High School)
Pairing: Various (Kyuhyun/Sungmin, Tablo/Eunhyuk, Hankyung/Heechul, Kibum/Donghae, Minry)
Word count: Between 400 and 800
Rating: PG - PG-13
Summary: Super Junior AU Drabbles part 15
A/N: \o/! I'm back to writing these ♥ Idek about the Kyumin one, it's weird. And and and Blohyuk owns me now :(
Sungmin / Kyuhyun / corrupting the innocent / PG / 649 words
Kyuhyun can’t help but feel that there’s something not right about the situation - like, surely this is child abuse? Surely she’s too young for this sort of thing? Surely-
“Surely you worry too much,” said Sungmin, resting one hand on his hip and wagging one finger in Kyuhyun’s face. “It’s fine. I mean, look at her - she’s adorable!”
“And I’m not a kid, Kyu-oppa,” said Jaymin with an expert roll of her eyes that Heechul taught her. “I’m more than old enough to date.”
“No, you aren’t,” said Kyuhyun, blinking at her and then blinking at Sungmin. “She’s not, is she? When did that happen? Like, seriously.”
“She’s sixteen, Kyuhyun,” said Sungmin, patting him condescendingly on the arm. “She has been for half a year now.”
“She’s five,” said Kyuhyun desperately. “She’s still five years old and rides around on my shoulders.”
“You’re worse than appa,” said Jaymin, rummaging around in one of her bags and pulling out a pink lipstick. “Kyu-oppa, I haven’t been carried on your shoulders for over a decade now, get over it.”
“I remember when you respected me,” said Kyuhyun sadly. “And when you never used to call me Kyu-oppa.”
“Aw, he’s so put upon,” said Sungmin with a grin. He kissed Kyuhyun on the cheek; Kyuhyun sighed and sat down on Jaymin’s bed heavily. Jaymin smiled at him in the mirror, and then turned to Sungmin.
“Oppa,” she said, suddenly sounding a bit worried. “Do I really look adorable?”
“Yeah,” said Sungmin with a grin.
Jaymin’s face fell. “I don’t want to look adorable,” she said. “I’m going on a date, Oppa, I want to look hot.”
“Ask Kyuhyun what he thinks of the skirt,” said Sungmin.
“Kyu-oppa,” said Jaymin, turning to Kyuhyun. “What do you think of my skirt?”
“It’s too short,” said Kyuhyun promptly. Jaymin glanced down at the layered pink mini-skirt, and then at Sungmin, who raised an eyebrow at her and tapped the side of his nose.
“There’s your answer,” he said.
“Oh,” said Jaymin, and then smiled happily. “Thanks, Oppa!”
“Remember,” said Sungmin, suddenly serious. “Don’t give him anything on the first date. I know from experience.”
“Oppa, you’ve only ever dated one person,” muttered Jaymin, putting the finishing touches to her make-up. “You don’t have any dating experience.”
Sungmin opened his mouth to say something, but the doorbell rang downstairs. Jaymin went white; Sungmin cried out in excitement and bounced over to pick his camera up from next to Kyuhyun on the bed - his parents were out until late and asked him to stay over to make sure that Jaymin got away safely and to pick her up. Kyuhyun sighed and stood up.
“What are you?” asked Jaymin, looking suddenly nervous even as she tried to cover it with joking. “My parents?” She laughed as she followed Kyuhyun down the stairs.
“Tonight I am,” said Kyuhyun, and pulled the door open to reveal a young boy with brown hair, carefully styled, wearing a grey jumper and black jeans.
“Hi,” said the boy, nervous, his Korean almost not understandable. “Jaymin’s brother?”
“Brother’s boyfriend,” said Kyuhyun in Chinese. “Jaymin has thir - no, wait, fourteen brother figures. You hurt her, we break every bone in your body, okay?”
“Yes,” said the boy, also in Chinese, sounding even more nervous - and looking it too. Jaymin glared at Kyuhyun.
“What did you say to him?” she asked, walking out of the door and taking Henry’s arm. “Did you just threaten him?”
“Would I do that?” Kyuhyun smiled and waved at her. “Have fun now.” She scowled and then walked down the path, saying something in English to Henry. Kyuhyun glared at the boy’s back and then shut the door. Sungmin’s arms came around his waist from the back. “What?” he asked.
“You’re hot when you’re irrationally angry,” said Sungmin with a smile against his neck.
“When does she come back?” asked Kyuhyun.
Eunhyuk / Tablo / impressions of a year / PG / 467 words
When Eunhyuk looks back, what he really misses most of all about his second year of high school, the year that Hankyung came, is not the general feeling of relaxation (because the trauma of first year was over and the trauma of third year was yet to come) but the fact that he could say “I’m not gay” and actually mean it.
Really - it’s something he misses.
Because it all changed in his third year, didn’t it? Before then, he responded to such assumptions as him being gay with some sort of a splutter and a denial; halfway through third year, that changed to simply the splutter, because he couldn’t deny it.
In that way, he hates Tablo. He hates his English teacher for being so fantastic and talented and wonderful and mentoring him in his song writing and helping him with everything and for pulling Eunhyuk in, little by little - unintentional, Eunhyuk knows, but that’s what happened anyway. And, god, he hates it, because what kind of a taste is a taste for your English teacher - a fucking rubbish sense of taste, that’s what.
Because Tablo might have been young and fun and happy to help, but he was still a teacher - he still knew what a teacher was supposed to do. Teachers, for instance, are supposed to help. What teachers aren’t supposed to do is get into clandestine relationships with their students, no matter how much they both may want it.
Eunhyuk’s under no delusions - he knows that Tablo liked him. The only way Eunhyuk could have been more obvious about it was if he’d got a t-shirt made with Tablo’s face on that he wore underneath his school uniform. But that was okay, that was alright, up until other people began to notice, not his friends but other people - students, teachers, gossiping girls who liked to believe in the things that they spread around.
Eventually Tablo had to come to Eunhyuk, awkwardly tell him that he didn’t think it was a good idea for them to be seen together so much, that people were talking and even rumours could have negative side effects. And Eunhyuk had nodded and took it and hadn’t cried or anything because they had never had anything anyway, and this had been unavoidable - they were teacher and student, it could never have happened anyway.
Eunhyuk hated those people who gossiped about them. He didn’t mind his friends teasing, because that was different, he trusted them - but those who ruined it for him, he hated them, because he had been happy with what little thing he had and then it was gone.
And then he had graduated.
And then it was over.
But what he hates most of all is Tablo because he loved him; and he can’t seem to stop.
Tablo / Eunhyuk / second chance / PG-13 / 717 words
Eunhyuk sat in the coffee shop that he always went into on his way home from dance practise, the one with the affordable coffee, lots of cream, and the girl at the counter who knew his order off by heart and who always wanted Donghae’s telephone number, from that one time Donghae had come in with him. He was sitting in his usual chair near the window, headphones in, foot tapping to the hip-hop song he was listening to, as he sipped his coffee and hitting the end of a pencil thoughtfully against his pad of paper - he was hoping to get the lyrics for this song finished by the end of the day.
His inspiration appeared to have dried up; much like his coffee, in fact, he noticed with some dismay as he went to take a drink and found his cup empty. He sighed, and jumped out of his seat to get another cup - bumped straight into someone walking past.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, before glancing up at the person he had just done grievous bodily harm to - and froze. He was aware that he was probably gaping, but that awareness was fairly dim at that moment in time. The man said something, looking shocked - Eunhyuk reached up with trembling fingers and removed his headphones, taking them out slowly without blinking.
“Hyungnim?” he whispered.
“Eunhyuk-shi?” Tablo’s face broke into a grin. “It really is you!”
“Y-yeah.” Eunhyuk kind of felt like he could really have done with sitting down. “What are you doing here?”
“I come here sometimes,” said Tablo. “It does nice coffee that I can actually afford.”
That’s like me, cheered some part of Eunhyuk’s brain that wasn’t screaming OH MY GOD over and over again. He tried to say something and then caught the way the corner of Tablo’s lip curled as he smiled and just sort of croaked. “I’m getting some more coffee,” he said, a little hysterical. “I’ll be right back.”
He practically ran over to the counter, gasped out his order to the rather shocked looking waitress, and then almost dropped his cup when he realised that Tablo had moved his coffee over to his table and had sat down in the chair opposite, and - oh fuck - was looking with interest at the notepad that Eunhyuk had stupidly left open on the table.
“Is this something you’re working on?” he asked, nodding towards the paper.
“Yeah,” said Eunhyuk, biting down on his hysteria. “Yeah, it’s just a-”
“It looks good,” said Tablo, smiling widely. “Can I read it properly?”
Eunhyuk nodded silently and watched nervously as Tablo picked up the pad and began to read, biting the skin around the edge of his thumb as Tablo began to mouth the words, the memories are beautiful, and then he looked up, impressed.
“That’s really good,” he said.
“Well,” said Eunhyuk softly. “I learnt from the best.”
Tablo’s smile faded a little; he cleared his throat and laid the paper on the table, before he changed the subject, asking about how his practice at the company was going, how the others were doing at their respective universities - it seemed to Eunhyuk that what they talked was anything other than anything that could hurt, or remind them of that thing that they had back when Eunhyuk was at school. It was nice to not have to discuss it, but it was still crippling him.
He checked his watch after a while and saw with a jolt that they had been talking for an hour and a half, and that he needed to be going or else he’d miss his bus. He made his excuses, - almost grateful for it, unable to stand the internal reminiscing, the urge to say something about it, much longer - picked up his things, and stood up.
Tablo reached out and took hold of his wrist; a spark shot up Eunhyuk’s arm and through his body, and he jumped away. Tablo looked suddenly a little embarrassed. “I was - come to dinner? With me, I mean. As a date. Not as friends. As - well.”
The spark which had come to a rest somewhere near his toes suddenly bounced back through him, fingertips tingling. “A date?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes. Yes, please.”
“Okay.” Eunhyuk was probably grinning like an idiot. “Okay.”
Hankyung / Heechul / rooftops and invitations / PG-13 / 737 words
Heechul was just about to go into Hankyung’s apartment when the door opened and Hankyung took his arm and began to pull him back down the corridor towards the stairs. “I’ve just come this way,” said Heechul blandly. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“I found out something really cool!” Hankyung said, looking back over his shoulder. “Well, actually, Zhou Mi found it, but I wanted to show you it too!”
Hankyung led him up the stairs, down a corridor and then up another flight of stairs, straight out onto the roof, where the view afforded them the sight of the apartment blocks on either side of the one that Hankyung lived in. “Wow,” said Heechul flatly. “Hold me, how will I contain my excitement?”
Hankyung actually pouted, Heechul noticed with some glee. “I thought you’d like it,” he said.
“Ew,” said Heechul, throwing himself down on the small wall running around the generator. He inspected the bottom of his shoe. “Hankyung, there is pigeon shit on the roof. If my shoes are ruined, I will be blaming you. Possibly making you pay for new ones, I’m undecided.”
“But look, Heechul!” Hankyung swept his arm as if telling him to take in the view. Heechul sighed fondly at him. “It’s so pretty.”
Heechul smirked slowly at him. “I see,” he said. “I see. Hankyung, is this supposed to be romantic or something?”
Hankyung blushed a little even as he stuck his chin defiantly into the air. “I thought you’d like it,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, I was bound to enjoy being stuck on the roof, freezing, and our only company that pigeon over there.” Heechul pointed towards the offending bird - it flew off. “See, even he doesn’t think much of this.”
“But look,” said Hankyung, as he sat down next to Heechul. “Look, the sun’s setting. The sky’s pretty.”
“You can be so earnest sometimes,” said Heechul, amused beyond belief. “Like, you’re almost Siwon sometimes, but you aren’t, because that would just be weird.”
“I wanted to show you it,” said Hankyung softly.
“Yeah,” said Heechul. “Look, it’s nice and all, but I’m cold, and I didn’t come here to look out at the night sky, beautiful as it may be. I came here to do something that I’m fairly certain you can get arrested for if you do it on a public rooftop.”
Hankyung rolled his eyes. “You just use me for sex,” he accused. Heechul cackled and slipped one arm around his side to bury his shoulder under Hankyung’s; the other hand began to play with Hankyung’s belt.
“It’s your fault for having such a good body,” said Heechul. Hankyung shifted slightly, and Heechul laughed against his neck. “Next time you want to do something romantic, can it be in your bedroom, with flowers, or even champagne? Champagne is always a good idea.”
Hankyung cleared his throat, looking up at the sky with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face, as he wrapped his arm around Heechul’s shoulder. “There is champagne,” he said. “Downstairs, in my bedroom. And um. Strawberries?”
“Aw,” said Heechul. “You should be romantic more often, it suits you.”
“Stop being so patronizing,” said Hankyung. “And you only like it because it’s expensive, I’m never doing it again.”
“You know me so well,” said Heechul with mock-shock. “Really, Hannie, that’s romantic.”
“Okay,” said Hankyung sharply, standing up suddenly. “We’re going downstairs.”
“Ha!” said Heechul, standing up and following him. “That must be the worst wooing I’ve ever seen. You sure know how to treat a guy the right way, Hankyung. Short sunset and then the sex!”
Hankyung stumbled a little on the last stair and then said, without turning around, “The sex part isn’t set in stone, you know.”
“Oh, like you can deny yourself me,” said Heechul. Hankyung groaned, span around and pushed him again the door to kiss him. They gained a horrified look from an old woman who was going to her own flat. Hankyung managed to get the door open and only managed to get Heechul to the sofa before Heechul decided that he was sick of standing.
“I’m going to gloat now,” said Heechul. “You find my gloating hot, right, so it’s not a problem, is it?”
“This is not going to work if you keep on talking,” said Hankyung severely.
“Being quiet now,” said Heechul.
“Finally,” said Hankyung, and kissed him before Heechul could say anything else.
Donghae / Kibum / wet paint / PG / 462 words
“Well, this is a disaster waiting to happen,” says Kibum.
Donghae waves the paintbrush in his face, and Kibum jumps back to avoid being hit by the splatters of paint that fly from the bristles. He would, after all, have something to explain to his mother when he came back home from ‘the library’ with bright yellow paint on his t-shirt. He steps back again and almost walks into the wall that has just been painted - he jumps forward. He feels a bit lost.
“Why are you,” he says, and waves his hand around at the room. One wall is a luminous shade of green; another, cherry red. The half-finished wall will be banana yellow - there is an unopened tin which promises to be electric blue, which will soon replace that lone wall of the calming cream that Kibum quite likes.
“It’s boring,” says Donghae with a shrug.
“As if that’s any excuse!” says Kibum. “Donghae, this room will give you migraines if you go ahead with it.”
“Migraines,” repeats Donghae. “Like, headaches? Oh, wow, that’s so cool!”
“You are completely insane!” Kibum threw his arms in the air - his knuckles on his left hand connected directly with the cherry red wall and he looks like he’s just punched someone in their bloody open wound. “Shit,” he says.
“Hot water gets that out,” says Donghae sympathetically. “I did it before, only I kind of leant against the green one in my school shirt.”
“Why were you painting in your school shirt?”
“What else would I paint in?”
“I don’t know, how about a t-shirt that doesn’t really matter.”
“…” says Donghae. “That’s what I was doing.”
“Oh,” says Kibum.
“Come on,” says Donghae, and takes him by the wrist and leads him to the bathroom. He turns on the tap and sticks Kibum’s hand under it before Kibum can react - it’s cold.
“Fuck!” yelps Kibum, and snatches his head back. “For fuck’s sake, Donghae!”
Donghae just grins at him, all teeth. Kibum rolls his eyes and checks the water’s temperature this time before he begins scrubbing at the paint. Donghae watches him carefully and then stands up.
“I like your hands,” he says.
“Yeah, whatever,” mutters Kibum.
“No, I really like your hands.”
Kibum glances up - Donghae’s grin is decidedly more feral now. “Donghae,” said Kibum, exasperated - it is depressing, really, how much time he spends being exasperated. “You no longer have a bed, you are sleeping on a camp bed. I’m not having sex on something that threatens to collapse at any given moment.”
“Who said anything about a bed?” asks Donghae, and shuts the bathroom door; locks it; reaches up and turns on the shower. A small amount of spray hits Kibum as he sort of stares.
“Oh,” he says.
Fandom: Super Junior AU (High School)
Pairing: Various (Kyuhyun/Sungmin, Tablo/Eunhyuk, Hankyung/Heechul, Kibum/Donghae, Minry)
Word count: Between 400 and 800
Rating: PG - PG-13
Summary: Super Junior AU Drabbles part 15
A/N: \o/! I'm back to writing these ♥ Idek about the Kyumin one, it's weird. And and and Blohyuk owns me now :(
Sungmin / Kyuhyun / corrupting the innocent / PG / 649 words
Kyuhyun can’t help but feel that there’s something not right about the situation - like, surely this is child abuse? Surely she’s too young for this sort of thing? Surely-
“Surely you worry too much,” said Sungmin, resting one hand on his hip and wagging one finger in Kyuhyun’s face. “It’s fine. I mean, look at her - she’s adorable!”
“And I’m not a kid, Kyu-oppa,” said Jaymin with an expert roll of her eyes that Heechul taught her. “I’m more than old enough to date.”
“No, you aren’t,” said Kyuhyun, blinking at her and then blinking at Sungmin. “She’s not, is she? When did that happen? Like, seriously.”
“She’s sixteen, Kyuhyun,” said Sungmin, patting him condescendingly on the arm. “She has been for half a year now.”
“She’s five,” said Kyuhyun desperately. “She’s still five years old and rides around on my shoulders.”
“You’re worse than appa,” said Jaymin, rummaging around in one of her bags and pulling out a pink lipstick. “Kyu-oppa, I haven’t been carried on your shoulders for over a decade now, get over it.”
“I remember when you respected me,” said Kyuhyun sadly. “And when you never used to call me Kyu-oppa.”
“Aw, he’s so put upon,” said Sungmin with a grin. He kissed Kyuhyun on the cheek; Kyuhyun sighed and sat down on Jaymin’s bed heavily. Jaymin smiled at him in the mirror, and then turned to Sungmin.
“Oppa,” she said, suddenly sounding a bit worried. “Do I really look adorable?”
“Yeah,” said Sungmin with a grin.
Jaymin’s face fell. “I don’t want to look adorable,” she said. “I’m going on a date, Oppa, I want to look hot.”
“Ask Kyuhyun what he thinks of the skirt,” said Sungmin.
“Kyu-oppa,” said Jaymin, turning to Kyuhyun. “What do you think of my skirt?”
“It’s too short,” said Kyuhyun promptly. Jaymin glanced down at the layered pink mini-skirt, and then at Sungmin, who raised an eyebrow at her and tapped the side of his nose.
“There’s your answer,” he said.
“Oh,” said Jaymin, and then smiled happily. “Thanks, Oppa!”
“Remember,” said Sungmin, suddenly serious. “Don’t give him anything on the first date. I know from experience.”
“Oppa, you’ve only ever dated one person,” muttered Jaymin, putting the finishing touches to her make-up. “You don’t have any dating experience.”
Sungmin opened his mouth to say something, but the doorbell rang downstairs. Jaymin went white; Sungmin cried out in excitement and bounced over to pick his camera up from next to Kyuhyun on the bed - his parents were out until late and asked him to stay over to make sure that Jaymin got away safely and to pick her up. Kyuhyun sighed and stood up.
“What are you?” asked Jaymin, looking suddenly nervous even as she tried to cover it with joking. “My parents?” She laughed as she followed Kyuhyun down the stairs.
“Tonight I am,” said Kyuhyun, and pulled the door open to reveal a young boy with brown hair, carefully styled, wearing a grey jumper and black jeans.
“Hi,” said the boy, nervous, his Korean almost not understandable. “Jaymin’s brother?”
“Brother’s boyfriend,” said Kyuhyun in Chinese. “Jaymin has thir - no, wait, fourteen brother figures. You hurt her, we break every bone in your body, okay?”
“Yes,” said the boy, also in Chinese, sounding even more nervous - and looking it too. Jaymin glared at Kyuhyun.
“What did you say to him?” she asked, walking out of the door and taking Henry’s arm. “Did you just threaten him?”
“Would I do that?” Kyuhyun smiled and waved at her. “Have fun now.” She scowled and then walked down the path, saying something in English to Henry. Kyuhyun glared at the boy’s back and then shut the door. Sungmin’s arms came around his waist from the back. “What?” he asked.
“You’re hot when you’re irrationally angry,” said Sungmin with a smile against his neck.
“When does she come back?” asked Kyuhyun.
Eunhyuk / Tablo / impressions of a year / PG / 467 words
When Eunhyuk looks back, what he really misses most of all about his second year of high school, the year that Hankyung came, is not the general feeling of relaxation (because the trauma of first year was over and the trauma of third year was yet to come) but the fact that he could say “I’m not gay” and actually mean it.
Really - it’s something he misses.
Because it all changed in his third year, didn’t it? Before then, he responded to such assumptions as him being gay with some sort of a splutter and a denial; halfway through third year, that changed to simply the splutter, because he couldn’t deny it.
In that way, he hates Tablo. He hates his English teacher for being so fantastic and talented and wonderful and mentoring him in his song writing and helping him with everything and for pulling Eunhyuk in, little by little - unintentional, Eunhyuk knows, but that’s what happened anyway. And, god, he hates it, because what kind of a taste is a taste for your English teacher - a fucking rubbish sense of taste, that’s what.
Because Tablo might have been young and fun and happy to help, but he was still a teacher - he still knew what a teacher was supposed to do. Teachers, for instance, are supposed to help. What teachers aren’t supposed to do is get into clandestine relationships with their students, no matter how much they both may want it.
Eunhyuk’s under no delusions - he knows that Tablo liked him. The only way Eunhyuk could have been more obvious about it was if he’d got a t-shirt made with Tablo’s face on that he wore underneath his school uniform. But that was okay, that was alright, up until other people began to notice, not his friends but other people - students, teachers, gossiping girls who liked to believe in the things that they spread around.
Eventually Tablo had to come to Eunhyuk, awkwardly tell him that he didn’t think it was a good idea for them to be seen together so much, that people were talking and even rumours could have negative side effects. And Eunhyuk had nodded and took it and hadn’t cried or anything because they had never had anything anyway, and this had been unavoidable - they were teacher and student, it could never have happened anyway.
Eunhyuk hated those people who gossiped about them. He didn’t mind his friends teasing, because that was different, he trusted them - but those who ruined it for him, he hated them, because he had been happy with what little thing he had and then it was gone.
And then he had graduated.
And then it was over.
But what he hates most of all is Tablo because he loved him; and he can’t seem to stop.
Tablo / Eunhyuk / second chance / PG-13 / 717 words
Eunhyuk sat in the coffee shop that he always went into on his way home from dance practise, the one with the affordable coffee, lots of cream, and the girl at the counter who knew his order off by heart and who always wanted Donghae’s telephone number, from that one time Donghae had come in with him. He was sitting in his usual chair near the window, headphones in, foot tapping to the hip-hop song he was listening to, as he sipped his coffee and hitting the end of a pencil thoughtfully against his pad of paper - he was hoping to get the lyrics for this song finished by the end of the day.
His inspiration appeared to have dried up; much like his coffee, in fact, he noticed with some dismay as he went to take a drink and found his cup empty. He sighed, and jumped out of his seat to get another cup - bumped straight into someone walking past.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, before glancing up at the person he had just done grievous bodily harm to - and froze. He was aware that he was probably gaping, but that awareness was fairly dim at that moment in time. The man said something, looking shocked - Eunhyuk reached up with trembling fingers and removed his headphones, taking them out slowly without blinking.
“Hyungnim?” he whispered.
“Eunhyuk-shi?” Tablo’s face broke into a grin. “It really is you!”
“Y-yeah.” Eunhyuk kind of felt like he could really have done with sitting down. “What are you doing here?”
“I come here sometimes,” said Tablo. “It does nice coffee that I can actually afford.”
That’s like me, cheered some part of Eunhyuk’s brain that wasn’t screaming OH MY GOD over and over again. He tried to say something and then caught the way the corner of Tablo’s lip curled as he smiled and just sort of croaked. “I’m getting some more coffee,” he said, a little hysterical. “I’ll be right back.”
He practically ran over to the counter, gasped out his order to the rather shocked looking waitress, and then almost dropped his cup when he realised that Tablo had moved his coffee over to his table and had sat down in the chair opposite, and - oh fuck - was looking with interest at the notepad that Eunhyuk had stupidly left open on the table.
“Is this something you’re working on?” he asked, nodding towards the paper.
“Yeah,” said Eunhyuk, biting down on his hysteria. “Yeah, it’s just a-”
“It looks good,” said Tablo, smiling widely. “Can I read it properly?”
Eunhyuk nodded silently and watched nervously as Tablo picked up the pad and began to read, biting the skin around the edge of his thumb as Tablo began to mouth the words, the memories are beautiful, and then he looked up, impressed.
“That’s really good,” he said.
“Well,” said Eunhyuk softly. “I learnt from the best.”
Tablo’s smile faded a little; he cleared his throat and laid the paper on the table, before he changed the subject, asking about how his practice at the company was going, how the others were doing at their respective universities - it seemed to Eunhyuk that what they talked was anything other than anything that could hurt, or remind them of that thing that they had back when Eunhyuk was at school. It was nice to not have to discuss it, but it was still crippling him.
He checked his watch after a while and saw with a jolt that they had been talking for an hour and a half, and that he needed to be going or else he’d miss his bus. He made his excuses, - almost grateful for it, unable to stand the internal reminiscing, the urge to say something about it, much longer - picked up his things, and stood up.
Tablo reached out and took hold of his wrist; a spark shot up Eunhyuk’s arm and through his body, and he jumped away. Tablo looked suddenly a little embarrassed. “I was - come to dinner? With me, I mean. As a date. Not as friends. As - well.”
The spark which had come to a rest somewhere near his toes suddenly bounced back through him, fingertips tingling. “A date?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes. Yes, please.”
“Okay.” Eunhyuk was probably grinning like an idiot. “Okay.”
Hankyung / Heechul / rooftops and invitations / PG-13 / 737 words
Heechul was just about to go into Hankyung’s apartment when the door opened and Hankyung took his arm and began to pull him back down the corridor towards the stairs. “I’ve just come this way,” said Heechul blandly. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“I found out something really cool!” Hankyung said, looking back over his shoulder. “Well, actually, Zhou Mi found it, but I wanted to show you it too!”
Hankyung led him up the stairs, down a corridor and then up another flight of stairs, straight out onto the roof, where the view afforded them the sight of the apartment blocks on either side of the one that Hankyung lived in. “Wow,” said Heechul flatly. “Hold me, how will I contain my excitement?”
Hankyung actually pouted, Heechul noticed with some glee. “I thought you’d like it,” he said.
“Ew,” said Heechul, throwing himself down on the small wall running around the generator. He inspected the bottom of his shoe. “Hankyung, there is pigeon shit on the roof. If my shoes are ruined, I will be blaming you. Possibly making you pay for new ones, I’m undecided.”
“But look, Heechul!” Hankyung swept his arm as if telling him to take in the view. Heechul sighed fondly at him. “It’s so pretty.”
Heechul smirked slowly at him. “I see,” he said. “I see. Hankyung, is this supposed to be romantic or something?”
Hankyung blushed a little even as he stuck his chin defiantly into the air. “I thought you’d like it,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, I was bound to enjoy being stuck on the roof, freezing, and our only company that pigeon over there.” Heechul pointed towards the offending bird - it flew off. “See, even he doesn’t think much of this.”
“But look,” said Hankyung, as he sat down next to Heechul. “Look, the sun’s setting. The sky’s pretty.”
“You can be so earnest sometimes,” said Heechul, amused beyond belief. “Like, you’re almost Siwon sometimes, but you aren’t, because that would just be weird.”
“I wanted to show you it,” said Hankyung softly.
“Yeah,” said Heechul. “Look, it’s nice and all, but I’m cold, and I didn’t come here to look out at the night sky, beautiful as it may be. I came here to do something that I’m fairly certain you can get arrested for if you do it on a public rooftop.”
Hankyung rolled his eyes. “You just use me for sex,” he accused. Heechul cackled and slipped one arm around his side to bury his shoulder under Hankyung’s; the other hand began to play with Hankyung’s belt.
“It’s your fault for having such a good body,” said Heechul. Hankyung shifted slightly, and Heechul laughed against his neck. “Next time you want to do something romantic, can it be in your bedroom, with flowers, or even champagne? Champagne is always a good idea.”
Hankyung cleared his throat, looking up at the sky with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face, as he wrapped his arm around Heechul’s shoulder. “There is champagne,” he said. “Downstairs, in my bedroom. And um. Strawberries?”
“Aw,” said Heechul. “You should be romantic more often, it suits you.”
“Stop being so patronizing,” said Hankyung. “And you only like it because it’s expensive, I’m never doing it again.”
“You know me so well,” said Heechul with mock-shock. “Really, Hannie, that’s romantic.”
“Okay,” said Hankyung sharply, standing up suddenly. “We’re going downstairs.”
“Ha!” said Heechul, standing up and following him. “That must be the worst wooing I’ve ever seen. You sure know how to treat a guy the right way, Hankyung. Short sunset and then the sex!”
Hankyung stumbled a little on the last stair and then said, without turning around, “The sex part isn’t set in stone, you know.”
“Oh, like you can deny yourself me,” said Heechul. Hankyung groaned, span around and pushed him again the door to kiss him. They gained a horrified look from an old woman who was going to her own flat. Hankyung managed to get the door open and only managed to get Heechul to the sofa before Heechul decided that he was sick of standing.
“I’m going to gloat now,” said Heechul. “You find my gloating hot, right, so it’s not a problem, is it?”
“This is not going to work if you keep on talking,” said Hankyung severely.
“Being quiet now,” said Heechul.
“Finally,” said Hankyung, and kissed him before Heechul could say anything else.
Donghae / Kibum / wet paint / PG / 462 words
“Well, this is a disaster waiting to happen,” says Kibum.
Donghae waves the paintbrush in his face, and Kibum jumps back to avoid being hit by the splatters of paint that fly from the bristles. He would, after all, have something to explain to his mother when he came back home from ‘the library’ with bright yellow paint on his t-shirt. He steps back again and almost walks into the wall that has just been painted - he jumps forward. He feels a bit lost.
“Why are you,” he says, and waves his hand around at the room. One wall is a luminous shade of green; another, cherry red. The half-finished wall will be banana yellow - there is an unopened tin which promises to be electric blue, which will soon replace that lone wall of the calming cream that Kibum quite likes.
“It’s boring,” says Donghae with a shrug.
“As if that’s any excuse!” says Kibum. “Donghae, this room will give you migraines if you go ahead with it.”
“Migraines,” repeats Donghae. “Like, headaches? Oh, wow, that’s so cool!”
“You are completely insane!” Kibum threw his arms in the air - his knuckles on his left hand connected directly with the cherry red wall and he looks like he’s just punched someone in their bloody open wound. “Shit,” he says.
“Hot water gets that out,” says Donghae sympathetically. “I did it before, only I kind of leant against the green one in my school shirt.”
“Why were you painting in your school shirt?”
“What else would I paint in?”
“I don’t know, how about a t-shirt that doesn’t really matter.”
“…” says Donghae. “That’s what I was doing.”
“Oh,” says Kibum.
“Come on,” says Donghae, and takes him by the wrist and leads him to the bathroom. He turns on the tap and sticks Kibum’s hand under it before Kibum can react - it’s cold.
“Fuck!” yelps Kibum, and snatches his head back. “For fuck’s sake, Donghae!”
Donghae just grins at him, all teeth. Kibum rolls his eyes and checks the water’s temperature this time before he begins scrubbing at the paint. Donghae watches him carefully and then stands up.
“I like your hands,” he says.
“Yeah, whatever,” mutters Kibum.
“No, I really like your hands.”
Kibum glances up - Donghae’s grin is decidedly more feral now. “Donghae,” said Kibum, exasperated - it is depressing, really, how much time he spends being exasperated. “You no longer have a bed, you are sleeping on a camp bed. I’m not having sex on something that threatens to collapse at any given moment.”
“Who said anything about a bed?” asks Donghae, and shuts the bathroom door; locks it; reaches up and turns on the shower. A small amount of spray hits Kibum as he sort of stares.
“Oh,” he says.