Sticky Fingers
Title: Sticky Fingers
Author: enigmaxempress
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin
Rating: G
Warnings: None. As in ‘No Penis’. That counts as a warning now, for some reason. LOL.
Summary: Yunho’s a bit of a kleptomaniac, but that doesn’t stop Changmin from approaching him anyway.
A/N: Not from the prompt table, but something to tide you all over while I have bigger fish to fry.
Changmin doesn’t mean to see it, but it seems he’s right there at the right time and is unwillingly privy to an act he’s sure is meant to be secret.
The other man stands there face passive and unremarkable except for his jutting lower lip and striking profile. Changmin tries to be inconspicuous as he slides a narrow eyed glance at the man waiting outside the mini mart near the bus stop and he knows he does a pretty good job of it. He’s good at being invisible, an expert at being unnoticed. He’s seen a lot of things other people have not simply by keeping still and being quiet; this time is no exception.
The first time it happens, Changmin thinks this eyes are playing tricks on him. Understandable since he’d been doing nothing but idly waiting around for the next bus home, slightly irritated that it was already ten minutes late. His dorm has an early curfew and Changmin has no desire to be locked out in the cold when he has a warm bed and a hot meal waiting. He’s looking down the street anxiously, willing the bus to come when-just as he turns his head, stupidly checking to see if the bus might come in the other direction-he sees it.
A man wrapped in a thick jacket standing at the mini mart’s entrance next to a small, outdoor display of merchandise is coolly sneaking something into the deep pockets of his jacket.
Changmin does a double take, head whipping back around almost comically in his surprise. He glances at the security guard not too far from the man, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them, the air from his mouth coming out in a cloud. Changmin blinks, not quite sure what he’d seen or if he’d really seen anything at all. Vaguely, he wonders whether there’s supposed to be an employee standing guard too. They had merchandise outside after all.
He narrows his eyes at the man, trying to see his face from under the high lapels of his upturned collar but has no such luck. Changmin can’t help but raise an eyebrow and sneer at the security guard, uselessly shivering not three feet away. If their security is going to be that lax, then they deserve to be stolen from.
The bus comes after another ten minutes, but even after deciding not to care he watches the man diligently out of the corner of his eye. Nothing happens again and Changmin has to wonder whether or not something had happened in the first place. Just as he boards the bus he takes another glance but still nothing. It isn’t until he’s taken a window seat, staring out onto the side walk he’d just vacated that something catches his eye.
As the bus rumbles past, a wind picks up outside. One of the man’s hands reaches up to still his upturned collar while the other one stealthy reaches into the display tray once again. The rest of his jacket flaps revealing a nametag and a uniform. This time, instead of surprise, Changmin is hard pressed to suppress a grin. It really is ironic.
The man stealing the goods is the employee.
--
It begins with little things, like sneaking candies from his mother’s purse and her favorite tube of lipstick. Then it’s slipping into his father’s study and coming away with a couple of sticks from a secret box of cigarettes and a tiny bottle of gin. His sister’s diary, once hidden deeply in her room, even passes through his hands.
At school he sits at the back of the class despite being smart enough to have an honorary seat up front. Being that far away is just another way to feed his addiction. Rather than listening to the teacher, he’s honing his skills, practicing a blank face to turn up front while his hands busy themselves with someone’s backpack hanging off the chair. He doesn’t care for the big stuff, just little things like an only pen or a half empty water bottle. Little things that people often miss, but when they do they’re so confused about it missing that their bewilderment is something he can count on to amuse him when the adrenaline’s faded away.
Because in the end that’s really what he’s going for. The muted background noise becomes as he’s reaching for whatever it is that’s caught his fancy this time around. That tunnel vision that everything else warps into and most especially the blankness of his mind as it happens. The absolute single-mindedness of his thoughts is addictive, almost nearly as much as the high that comes with slipping something random and not his own into his pocket. The way the object-whatever it might be at the moment-presses into his skin as he holds it tightly for a moment, edges and lines for him to trace later imprinted into his palm. There’s an undeniable charm to it all.
He doesn’t care much for what he takes, throws them out without another glance the first chance he gets (except for his sister’s diary-that he’d put right back after he’d taken). He has no need for them. He doesn’t take them because he wants them-he takes them because the lure of taking them isn’t something he can deny. It’s dangerous as a hobby, even more so as an addiction but Yunho can’t help it. He realizes that maybe he has a problem, that maybe he should get help, but he’s never had an eye for stealing bigger, better, more expensive things. He just likes holding on to things that don’t belong to him.
Maybe he just hasn’t found anything he wants to hold on to.
--
A few days later Changmin finds himself at the same bus stop. The bus is late again but instead of waiting for it outside, he walks into the mini mart. Casually, he strides towards the candy section and pretends to deliberate between a bar of chocolate or gummy words. Changmin throws furtive looks at the counter where it’s being manned by a familiar face, one he hasn’t been able to get out of his head in almost a week. Settling on the chocolate, Changmin goes up to the counter and places his lonely bar of KitKat on top.
“Hey, aren’t you the same guy who was standing outside a few days ago trying to sell people stuff?”
The man smiles politely, a full set of straight pearly whites. “That would be me. And you look like the guy who kept giving me the stink eye while waiting for the bus.” Changmin gives him a look.
“You work here.”
“Obviously,” The man - whose nametag read ‘Hi! My name is YUNHO. Happy to Serve!’ - gestures at his uniform
“Then don’t you already get some kind of employee’s discount or something?” Changmin asks as Yunho rings up his single purchase.
Yunho’s polite smile turns into a grin, as if he had a funny thought. “Something like that.”
“I wasn’t talking about the five-finger discount either.” Yunho’s grin wides.
“I know,” he replies in a whisper, voice low and leaning in so that only Changmin could hear. Their faces are less than a foot away from each other, even with an entire counter of mints and odd trinkets and a cash register between them. Yunho’s eyes seem to twinkle, as if excited that Changmin is in on his secret.
“Can I ask why?”
Yunho merely shrugs. “It’s complicated.” He hands Changmin his meager purchase in a small plastic bag and does something completely unexpected. “Your receipt, sir. Come again.” Yunho presses the small strip of paper into Changmin’s palm, fingers warm and sure and lingering. Then he winks. Changmin is a little stunned. He thinks he might have just been hit on. Without another word, he walks to the exit.
Unnerved by the experience, it isn’t until Changmin is on the bus, sitting in the back row, that he decides to get started on his chocolate. When he reaches into his plastic bag, he’s surprised to find a pack of gummy worms - the sour ones, the exact same kind he’d been pretending to choose from earlier - alongside his KitKat. Curiously, Changmin looks at the receipt Yunho had pressed into his palm and finds that as expected, he’d only paid for the chocolate. He flips the strip of paper over and on the back are a little inscription and a string of numbers. He reads it, trying valiantly to fight off the tiny wave of pleasure.
Courtesy of the ‘five-finger discount.’ Call me. - Jung Yunho
My third fic for this month long event! Short, but oddly enough inspired by this cute new employee at my nearby 7-11. I think I’ve just acquired a sudden interest in convenience store goods! LOL /is shameless.
Anyway, as always, enjoy!♥
Author: enigmaxempress
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin
Rating: G
Warnings: None. As in ‘No Penis’. That counts as a warning now, for some reason. LOL.
Summary: Yunho’s a bit of a kleptomaniac, but that doesn’t stop Changmin from approaching him anyway.
A/N: Not from the prompt table, but something to tide you all over while I have bigger fish to fry.
Changmin doesn’t mean to see it, but it seems he’s right there at the right time and is unwillingly privy to an act he’s sure is meant to be secret.
The other man stands there face passive and unremarkable except for his jutting lower lip and striking profile. Changmin tries to be inconspicuous as he slides a narrow eyed glance at the man waiting outside the mini mart near the bus stop and he knows he does a pretty good job of it. He’s good at being invisible, an expert at being unnoticed. He’s seen a lot of things other people have not simply by keeping still and being quiet; this time is no exception.
The first time it happens, Changmin thinks this eyes are playing tricks on him. Understandable since he’d been doing nothing but idly waiting around for the next bus home, slightly irritated that it was already ten minutes late. His dorm has an early curfew and Changmin has no desire to be locked out in the cold when he has a warm bed and a hot meal waiting. He’s looking down the street anxiously, willing the bus to come when-just as he turns his head, stupidly checking to see if the bus might come in the other direction-he sees it.
A man wrapped in a thick jacket standing at the mini mart’s entrance next to a small, outdoor display of merchandise is coolly sneaking something into the deep pockets of his jacket.
Changmin does a double take, head whipping back around almost comically in his surprise. He glances at the security guard not too far from the man, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them, the air from his mouth coming out in a cloud. Changmin blinks, not quite sure what he’d seen or if he’d really seen anything at all. Vaguely, he wonders whether there’s supposed to be an employee standing guard too. They had merchandise outside after all.
He narrows his eyes at the man, trying to see his face from under the high lapels of his upturned collar but has no such luck. Changmin can’t help but raise an eyebrow and sneer at the security guard, uselessly shivering not three feet away. If their security is going to be that lax, then they deserve to be stolen from.
The bus comes after another ten minutes, but even after deciding not to care he watches the man diligently out of the corner of his eye. Nothing happens again and Changmin has to wonder whether or not something had happened in the first place. Just as he boards the bus he takes another glance but still nothing. It isn’t until he’s taken a window seat, staring out onto the side walk he’d just vacated that something catches his eye.
As the bus rumbles past, a wind picks up outside. One of the man’s hands reaches up to still his upturned collar while the other one stealthy reaches into the display tray once again. The rest of his jacket flaps revealing a nametag and a uniform. This time, instead of surprise, Changmin is hard pressed to suppress a grin. It really is ironic.
The man stealing the goods is the employee.
--
It begins with little things, like sneaking candies from his mother’s purse and her favorite tube of lipstick. Then it’s slipping into his father’s study and coming away with a couple of sticks from a secret box of cigarettes and a tiny bottle of gin. His sister’s diary, once hidden deeply in her room, even passes through his hands.
At school he sits at the back of the class despite being smart enough to have an honorary seat up front. Being that far away is just another way to feed his addiction. Rather than listening to the teacher, he’s honing his skills, practicing a blank face to turn up front while his hands busy themselves with someone’s backpack hanging off the chair. He doesn’t care for the big stuff, just little things like an only pen or a half empty water bottle. Little things that people often miss, but when they do they’re so confused about it missing that their bewilderment is something he can count on to amuse him when the adrenaline’s faded away.
Because in the end that’s really what he’s going for. The muted background noise becomes as he’s reaching for whatever it is that’s caught his fancy this time around. That tunnel vision that everything else warps into and most especially the blankness of his mind as it happens. The absolute single-mindedness of his thoughts is addictive, almost nearly as much as the high that comes with slipping something random and not his own into his pocket. The way the object-whatever it might be at the moment-presses into his skin as he holds it tightly for a moment, edges and lines for him to trace later imprinted into his palm. There’s an undeniable charm to it all.
He doesn’t care much for what he takes, throws them out without another glance the first chance he gets (except for his sister’s diary-that he’d put right back after he’d taken). He has no need for them. He doesn’t take them because he wants them-he takes them because the lure of taking them isn’t something he can deny. It’s dangerous as a hobby, even more so as an addiction but Yunho can’t help it. He realizes that maybe he has a problem, that maybe he should get help, but he’s never had an eye for stealing bigger, better, more expensive things. He just likes holding on to things that don’t belong to him.
Maybe he just hasn’t found anything he wants to hold on to.
--
A few days later Changmin finds himself at the same bus stop. The bus is late again but instead of waiting for it outside, he walks into the mini mart. Casually, he strides towards the candy section and pretends to deliberate between a bar of chocolate or gummy words. Changmin throws furtive looks at the counter where it’s being manned by a familiar face, one he hasn’t been able to get out of his head in almost a week. Settling on the chocolate, Changmin goes up to the counter and places his lonely bar of KitKat on top.
“Hey, aren’t you the same guy who was standing outside a few days ago trying to sell people stuff?”
The man smiles politely, a full set of straight pearly whites. “That would be me. And you look like the guy who kept giving me the stink eye while waiting for the bus.” Changmin gives him a look.
“You work here.”
“Obviously,” The man - whose nametag read ‘Hi! My name is YUNHO. Happy to Serve!’ - gestures at his uniform
“Then don’t you already get some kind of employee’s discount or something?” Changmin asks as Yunho rings up his single purchase.
Yunho’s polite smile turns into a grin, as if he had a funny thought. “Something like that.”
“I wasn’t talking about the five-finger discount either.” Yunho’s grin wides.
“I know,” he replies in a whisper, voice low and leaning in so that only Changmin could hear. Their faces are less than a foot away from each other, even with an entire counter of mints and odd trinkets and a cash register between them. Yunho’s eyes seem to twinkle, as if excited that Changmin is in on his secret.
“Can I ask why?”
Yunho merely shrugs. “It’s complicated.” He hands Changmin his meager purchase in a small plastic bag and does something completely unexpected. “Your receipt, sir. Come again.” Yunho presses the small strip of paper into Changmin’s palm, fingers warm and sure and lingering. Then he winks. Changmin is a little stunned. He thinks he might have just been hit on. Without another word, he walks to the exit.
Unnerved by the experience, it isn’t until Changmin is on the bus, sitting in the back row, that he decides to get started on his chocolate. When he reaches into his plastic bag, he’s surprised to find a pack of gummy worms - the sour ones, the exact same kind he’d been pretending to choose from earlier - alongside his KitKat. Curiously, Changmin looks at the receipt Yunho had pressed into his palm and finds that as expected, he’d only paid for the chocolate. He flips the strip of paper over and on the back are a little inscription and a string of numbers. He reads it, trying valiantly to fight off the tiny wave of pleasure.
Courtesy of the ‘five-finger discount.’ Call me. - Jung Yunho
My third fic for this month long event! Short, but oddly enough inspired by this cute new employee at my nearby 7-11. I think I’ve just acquired a sudden interest in convenience store goods! LOL /is shameless.
Anyway, as always, enjoy!♥