You Rang?
Title: You Rang?
Rating: PG (for Heechul's mouth)
Genre: Fluff, a little humour
Pairing: HanChul
Summary: When Heechul is bored...
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Warnings: Un-beta'd
A/N: Belated birthday fic for emo_what97! :D I would've posted it up yesterday, but my internet connection decided not to co-orporate...
Hangeng pulled his phone out of his pocket, switching it on after the distraction-free jog he had carried out around the park
that morning. He glanced at the screen, his hair drenched in perspiration and stinking obnoxiously of sweat.
32 missed calls, it read.
32 missed calls from Kim Heechul
At first, all Hangeng could feel was annoyance. What did Heechul want NOW? But as he dialled the latter's number,
amusement seemed to trickle into his veins, and he found himself chuckling at the absurdness of having recieved that many calls in an hour, let alone someone actually making them. The mirth soon turned into worry and concern, though.
As much as Hangeng denied it, Heechul was his best friend. He really did care about Heechul's well-being, and for the other man to be trying to contact him that many times, something had to be terribly, terribly wrong.
Maybe Heechul, all alone and bored in the dorm, had somehow managed to find his secret stash of firecrackers! What if he'd
hurt himself in the process? Or, or, or... maybe the dorm had been robbed, and Heechul had been kidnapped! What if the elder man was being held hostage to a bunch of thugs that very moment?!
The longer Heechul's phone rang on the other side of the line, the more rationality -- and possibly sanity -- Hangeng lost. Why wasn't Heechul picking up?! "Sorry, the person you have called is --"
"Aish!" Hangeng didn't wait for the robotic voice to finish. What he did next was shove the phone roughly back into his pocket.
Then, he started to sprint.
Hangeng dashed madly through the streets. He had to get back to the dorm. He had to make sure that Heechul was alright.
He ran and ran, distress spurring him on. With his heart beating faster than any drum played by a drummer on crack, Hangeng hoped silently that he wasn't about to have cardiac-arrest.
After what seemed like the longest journey back to campus, EVER, Hangeng could finally see it; the dormitory stood in plain view. He ran up the stairs -- elevator forgotten -- to the fifth floor.
He stepped into his room, a panting mess, and proceeded to look around it. What Hangeng saw was way worse than any of the horrible situations his mind had conjured up earlier that morning. In fact, it was downright terrifying! Clothes were strewn haphazardly around the place, books simuletaneously dropped from the shelves as the door clicked shut... It looked like a cyclone had invaded the dorm, somehow managing to spare the rest of Seoul!
Heechul, on the other hand, sat against the bottom frame of the bunk-bed. In one hand, he held an electronic hair clipper, and in the other, his cat, Heebum squirmed in his grip. If Hangeng hadn't been so exhaustingly angry with the current state of the room, he would've found the particular scene hilarious.
"Oh, China Man, you're back!" the elder man greeted cheerily; as if everything was completely normal. As if the room was in better condition than a pig sty.
Hangeng could only stare back in disbelief. "W-what happened?" he finally whimpered.
"Well, while you were gone, like you are every morning -- I mean, how do you wake up so early?" Hangeng frowned. "Anyways, where was I? Oh, right! While you were out -- God knows where at six-thirty am in the morning -- I decided to give Heebum here a little well-earned haircut --"
"Seriously?"
"Okay, fine -- furcut. But I guess he didn't want me to, because once the shaver was out, the little bastard started running all over the room, and I, of course, had to chase after him -- come on, everyone knows about your not-so-secret stash of firecrackers -- So, yeah... That explains the mess."
"Why'd you call me thirty-two times?" Hangeng could've sworn he felt an eye muscle twitch.
"That, my friend," Heechul said, "was simply because I was bored."
It took Hangeng every ounce of will-power not to spontaneously errupt as he stared at Heechul, who now sat cross-legged, a mock-angelic expression on his flawless face. "Alright." the China Man sighed instead. "Alright. Let's clean up this mess." And Hangeng gave himself a pat on the back for being oh, so tolerant.
Rating: PG (for Heechul's mouth)
Genre: Fluff, a little humour
Pairing: HanChul
Summary: When Heechul is bored...
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Warnings: Un-beta'd
A/N: Belated birthday fic for emo_what97! :D I would've posted it up yesterday, but my internet connection decided not to co-orporate...
Hangeng pulled his phone out of his pocket, switching it on after the distraction-free jog he had carried out around the park
that morning. He glanced at the screen, his hair drenched in perspiration and stinking obnoxiously of sweat.
32 missed calls, it read.
32 missed calls from Kim Heechul
At first, all Hangeng could feel was annoyance. What did Heechul want NOW? But as he dialled the latter's number,
amusement seemed to trickle into his veins, and he found himself chuckling at the absurdness of having recieved that many calls in an hour, let alone someone actually making them. The mirth soon turned into worry and concern, though.
As much as Hangeng denied it, Heechul was his best friend. He really did care about Heechul's well-being, and for the other man to be trying to contact him that many times, something had to be terribly, terribly wrong.
Maybe Heechul, all alone and bored in the dorm, had somehow managed to find his secret stash of firecrackers! What if he'd
hurt himself in the process? Or, or, or... maybe the dorm had been robbed, and Heechul had been kidnapped! What if the elder man was being held hostage to a bunch of thugs that very moment?!
The longer Heechul's phone rang on the other side of the line, the more rationality -- and possibly sanity -- Hangeng lost. Why wasn't Heechul picking up?! "Sorry, the person you have called is --"
"Aish!" Hangeng didn't wait for the robotic voice to finish. What he did next was shove the phone roughly back into his pocket.
Then, he started to sprint.
Hangeng dashed madly through the streets. He had to get back to the dorm. He had to make sure that Heechul was alright.
He ran and ran, distress spurring him on. With his heart beating faster than any drum played by a drummer on crack, Hangeng hoped silently that he wasn't about to have cardiac-arrest.
After what seemed like the longest journey back to campus, EVER, Hangeng could finally see it; the dormitory stood in plain view. He ran up the stairs -- elevator forgotten -- to the fifth floor.
He stepped into his room, a panting mess, and proceeded to look around it. What Hangeng saw was way worse than any of the horrible situations his mind had conjured up earlier that morning. In fact, it was downright terrifying! Clothes were strewn haphazardly around the place, books simuletaneously dropped from the shelves as the door clicked shut... It looked like a cyclone had invaded the dorm, somehow managing to spare the rest of Seoul!
Heechul, on the other hand, sat against the bottom frame of the bunk-bed. In one hand, he held an electronic hair clipper, and in the other, his cat, Heebum squirmed in his grip. If Hangeng hadn't been so exhaustingly angry with the current state of the room, he would've found the particular scene hilarious.
"Oh, China Man, you're back!" the elder man greeted cheerily; as if everything was completely normal. As if the room was in better condition than a pig sty.
Hangeng could only stare back in disbelief. "W-what happened?" he finally whimpered.
"Well, while you were gone, like you are every morning -- I mean, how do you wake up so early?" Hangeng frowned. "Anyways, where was I? Oh, right! While you were out -- God knows where at six-thirty am in the morning -- I decided to give Heebum here a little well-earned haircut --"
"Seriously?"
"Okay, fine -- furcut. But I guess he didn't want me to, because once the shaver was out, the little bastard started running all over the room, and I, of course, had to chase after him -- come on, everyone knows about your not-so-secret stash of firecrackers -- So, yeah... That explains the mess."
"Why'd you call me thirty-two times?" Hangeng could've sworn he felt an eye muscle twitch.
"That, my friend," Heechul said, "was simply because I was bored."
It took Hangeng every ounce of will-power not to spontaneously errupt as he stared at Heechul, who now sat cross-legged, a mock-angelic expression on his flawless face. "Alright." the China Man sighed instead. "Alright. Let's clean up this mess." And Hangeng gave himself a pat on the back for being oh, so tolerant.