A Bull in a China Shop
Author: emocezi
Title: A Bull in a China Shop
Fandom: The Expendables
Pairing: Gunnar/Yin
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1076
Disclaimer: I do not own The Expendables nor do I make a profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: Good lord, I haven't posted fic in so long I've almost forgotten how to do all the HTML. Anyway, this is a fill for a square of my trope bingo card.
Timothy sighs and looks around the store. It’s a wednesday afternoon, a slow one and there’s still two hours before Cynthia comes in and he can go home and take off his black and green leather Bruno-Magli’s and enjoy the nice Pinot Grigio he’d picked up last week.
The door opens, sending the little bell hanging above it into cheerful little peels and Timothy turns to give his only customers of the day a cheerful smile. His left cheek twitches and he barely maintains his facial expression at the sight of the two men standing awkwardly at the front of the store.
The asian is only a few inches shorter than Timothy is, but next to the blonde giant he looks like a child. Next to the blonde giant, anyone would look like a child, Timothy thinks and realizes he’s smiling at them like an idiot. He clears his throat and pulls the front of his crisp white shirt straight, pulling out the wrinkles he’d obtained slouching over the counter.
“Can I help you find anything?”
“No.” The asian says. “Thank you. We are just looking.”
“Well, if you need help, let me know.”
“We won’t.” The blonde giant says with what looks like a sneer and Timothy barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Of course the big tough men don’t want his help, they might catch the gay.
“Don’t be rude.” The asian snaps and the blonde shoves his hands in his pocket and skulks into the store, glaring at the fancy dishes like they’ve personally insulted him. Timothy takes a moment to fear for the flat wear, and the metaphor about a bull in a china shop suddenly takes on a whole new meaning for him.
“I don’t see why we need this shit. We have dishes.”
“I. Want. Nice. Dishes.”
“They’re just gonna get broken.” The giant mutters and Timothy barely stops his hand from flying to his mouth. There is NO WAY. “I like these.”
“Those are ugly.”
“They’re white. How can they by ugly?”
“Too plain.” The Asian dismisses the plates with a disdainful sniff and moves to look at the Flora Danica section with a determination that makes Timothy’s heart flutter. “I like these.” There’s a smug tone to his voice and the blonde makes a choking sound.
“Those are a thousand dollars a plate. Are you goddamn insane Yinseng?”
“These are good. I want these.”
“I am not paying thirty grand for fucking plates.” Timothy starts forward when the blonde grabs a fistful of the asian’s jacket and lifts him up until his toes leave the carpet. He stops, because really, what is he gonna do if that beast decides that battering his tiny boyfriend just isn’t enough? He steps back behind the desk and grabs for the phone, wondering if he should just call the cops and get these two out of the store before they can start anything.
“Let. Go. Of. Me.” The asian snaps and there’s a sudden burn of tension that makes it hard to breathe. Timothy stares at the two, wondering what the hell is wrong with them, because this cannot be a healthy relationship.
“Come on Yinseng.” The blonde drops the asian back on his feet and throws his hands in the air, narrowly missing a wedgwood bowl. “Thirty thousand dollars for fucking plates?”
“I like nice things.”
“You’re gonna use them once a fucking year.” If Timothy didn’t know any better, he’d say the blonde was whining.
“Twice a year.” The asian says and straightens out the front of his shirt with careful precise motions. “Christmas. Chinese New Year.”
“Twice a fuckin’ year.” The blonde sighs and runs a hand over his hair, pushing it back and highlighting a vicious scar that curves along his temple in a jagged line. Who are these people? The blonde turns to look at Timothy and gestures to the Flora Danica with his head. “We’ll take ‘em.”
“How...uh..how many sets?” Timothy squeaks, squeezing the phone until it creaks under his fingers.
“Fifteen.” The asian says smugly and the blonde twitches. Timothy feels like he’s in some sort of strange dream, like his head is floating away from his body as he pulls out the paperwork that goes along with a sale this large.
There are credit checks to be done, to make sure the transaction will go through. He pulls out the paperwork for setting up a payment plan, because these men, look like they’re gonna need one.
“Alright. Gentlemen.” Timothy says, trying to keep his voice from jumping when they both make their way to the front counter. “With taxes your purchase comes to One hundred and twelve thousand, three hundred and fifty dollars. And ninety two cents. We take all major credit cards and we also accept payment plans.” Timothy trails off when the blonde pulls a stack of bills half the thickness of a brick and drops it on the desk. They’re crisp one hundred dollar bills, the paper band is still around the stack and it’s clear this money just came from the bank. Though, Timothy has to wonder how legally it was acquired, but he hasn’t heard anything about bank robberies on his twitter feed in the last few days.
“I...need to call my manager.” He says after a few moment of staring at the fat wad of bills in front of him. He knows how to make cash transactions, but he’s never done one this large before and he’d assumed he’d be setting these men up with a payment plan. The two men shrug and stand there staring at him until he remembers the phone in his hand. He clears his throat and starts to dial the number. “Hi, Shelly? It’s Timothy, yes, everything is fine. I need you to come down here, please. I have a cash transaction for a rather large sum. Uh...a hundred and twelve thousand?”
The asian sighs, already looking bored and Timothy fights the urge to scream at his boss to just get here and take care of this for him. She makes a choked noise and promises to be there in ten minutes. Timothy hangs up and offers them a smile.
“My manager will be here in ten minutes.”
“If we’d just gone to Ikea we wouldn’t have had to wait.” The blonde grumbles, then hisses out a breath and smirks when the asian drives an elbow into his stomach.
Title: A Bull in a China Shop
Fandom: The Expendables
Pairing: Gunnar/Yin
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1076
Disclaimer: I do not own The Expendables nor do I make a profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: Good lord, I haven't posted fic in so long I've almost forgotten how to do all the HTML. Anyway, this is a fill for a square of my trope bingo card.
Timothy sighs and looks around the store. It’s a wednesday afternoon, a slow one and there’s still two hours before Cynthia comes in and he can go home and take off his black and green leather Bruno-Magli’s and enjoy the nice Pinot Grigio he’d picked up last week.
The door opens, sending the little bell hanging above it into cheerful little peels and Timothy turns to give his only customers of the day a cheerful smile. His left cheek twitches and he barely maintains his facial expression at the sight of the two men standing awkwardly at the front of the store.
The asian is only a few inches shorter than Timothy is, but next to the blonde giant he looks like a child. Next to the blonde giant, anyone would look like a child, Timothy thinks and realizes he’s smiling at them like an idiot. He clears his throat and pulls the front of his crisp white shirt straight, pulling out the wrinkles he’d obtained slouching over the counter.
“Can I help you find anything?”
“No.” The asian says. “Thank you. We are just looking.”
“Well, if you need help, let me know.”
“We won’t.” The blonde giant says with what looks like a sneer and Timothy barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Of course the big tough men don’t want his help, they might catch the gay.
“Don’t be rude.” The asian snaps and the blonde shoves his hands in his pocket and skulks into the store, glaring at the fancy dishes like they’ve personally insulted him. Timothy takes a moment to fear for the flat wear, and the metaphor about a bull in a china shop suddenly takes on a whole new meaning for him.
“I don’t see why we need this shit. We have dishes.”
“I. Want. Nice. Dishes.”
“They’re just gonna get broken.” The giant mutters and Timothy barely stops his hand from flying to his mouth. There is NO WAY. “I like these.”
“Those are ugly.”
“They’re white. How can they by ugly?”
“Too plain.” The Asian dismisses the plates with a disdainful sniff and moves to look at the Flora Danica section with a determination that makes Timothy’s heart flutter. “I like these.” There’s a smug tone to his voice and the blonde makes a choking sound.
“Those are a thousand dollars a plate. Are you goddamn insane Yinseng?”
“These are good. I want these.”
“I am not paying thirty grand for fucking plates.” Timothy starts forward when the blonde grabs a fistful of the asian’s jacket and lifts him up until his toes leave the carpet. He stops, because really, what is he gonna do if that beast decides that battering his tiny boyfriend just isn’t enough? He steps back behind the desk and grabs for the phone, wondering if he should just call the cops and get these two out of the store before they can start anything.
“Let. Go. Of. Me.” The asian snaps and there’s a sudden burn of tension that makes it hard to breathe. Timothy stares at the two, wondering what the hell is wrong with them, because this cannot be a healthy relationship.
“Come on Yinseng.” The blonde drops the asian back on his feet and throws his hands in the air, narrowly missing a wedgwood bowl. “Thirty thousand dollars for fucking plates?”
“I like nice things.”
“You’re gonna use them once a fucking year.” If Timothy didn’t know any better, he’d say the blonde was whining.
“Twice a year.” The asian says and straightens out the front of his shirt with careful precise motions. “Christmas. Chinese New Year.”
“Twice a fuckin’ year.” The blonde sighs and runs a hand over his hair, pushing it back and highlighting a vicious scar that curves along his temple in a jagged line. Who are these people? The blonde turns to look at Timothy and gestures to the Flora Danica with his head. “We’ll take ‘em.”
“How...uh..how many sets?” Timothy squeaks, squeezing the phone until it creaks under his fingers.
“Fifteen.” The asian says smugly and the blonde twitches. Timothy feels like he’s in some sort of strange dream, like his head is floating away from his body as he pulls out the paperwork that goes along with a sale this large.
There are credit checks to be done, to make sure the transaction will go through. He pulls out the paperwork for setting up a payment plan, because these men, look like they’re gonna need one.
“Alright. Gentlemen.” Timothy says, trying to keep his voice from jumping when they both make their way to the front counter. “With taxes your purchase comes to One hundred and twelve thousand, three hundred and fifty dollars. And ninety two cents. We take all major credit cards and we also accept payment plans.” Timothy trails off when the blonde pulls a stack of bills half the thickness of a brick and drops it on the desk. They’re crisp one hundred dollar bills, the paper band is still around the stack and it’s clear this money just came from the bank. Though, Timothy has to wonder how legally it was acquired, but he hasn’t heard anything about bank robberies on his twitter feed in the last few days.
“I...need to call my manager.” He says after a few moment of staring at the fat wad of bills in front of him. He knows how to make cash transactions, but he’s never done one this large before and he’d assumed he’d be setting these men up with a payment plan. The two men shrug and stand there staring at him until he remembers the phone in his hand. He clears his throat and starts to dial the number. “Hi, Shelly? It’s Timothy, yes, everything is fine. I need you to come down here, please. I have a cash transaction for a rather large sum. Uh...a hundred and twelve thousand?”
The asian sighs, already looking bored and Timothy fights the urge to scream at his boss to just get here and take care of this for him. She makes a choked noise and promises to be there in ten minutes. Timothy hangs up and offers them a smile.
“My manager will be here in ten minutes.”
“If we’d just gone to Ikea we wouldn’t have had to wait.” The blonde grumbles, then hisses out a breath and smirks when the asian drives an elbow into his stomach.