For Us, By Us
A birthday ficbit for hoyah, my favorite dirty pirate hooker. (Why do I call you that? I think it's because I saw Kat call you that and enjoyed it, but I am entirely clueless as to the context. Strangely, I don't care. 8D) The request: epic Horella. Is this epic? I think so. Maybe. On a small scale. *oxymorons all over the place* Happy Belated Birthday, Mai! ♥
For Us, By Us
pairing: Yunho/Heechul
Yunho still borrows Heechul's clothes when he comes back to Korea. It's different now, of course, because Heechul's clothes are different, and Heechul is different, and he's different, too. Everything's so different, in fact, that it's getting hard to remember what it was like back then, when they used to live together and go out without anyone batting an eyelash, when they used to wear what Heechul described with his horrendous English accent as 'urban chic.' The boys in the haduri flashing gang signs and cocky smiles are almost unrecognizable now, but some things never change, and so Yunho still borrows Heechul's clothes when he comes back to Korea.
"You look like a fag," Heechul says from the doorway, eyebrows furrowed severely. Yunho looks at himself in the mirror: white form-fitting jeans, poofy blouse, feather boa and rhinestone glasses. He looks like a fag and a half.
"I couldn't have done it without you," he says brightly over blinged out rims, and Heechul rolls his eyes.
"Fuck right, you couldn't," he mutters, and yanks at Yunho's boa. "Now come on-I'm gonna get fucked up on hard liquor tonight and you're buying." It's an empty threat. Heechul is too good a hyung for that-he never lets Yunho pay.
They go to a hole in the wall club Heechul's found, hidden in the gay back streets of Itaewon, where entertainment reporters don't dare go for fear of being seen by other entertainment reporters. Neither of them is gay, and that's the point, at least for Yunho. He's there to be not-himself, to drink irresponsibly and grind against men he has no intention of going home with, to flirt with the bartender and stumble out of the club in the early morning hours, sweaty and swerving and laughing hysterically at Heechul's rant about the travesty of gay men without the good taste enough to flirt with him.
They reach the noraebang just as the sun begins to peek above the horizon. Heechul shuts off the karaoke machine and switches the TV to a sports channel, and they watch in silence for a while, Heechul slouching low at one end of the padded bench and Yunho sprawled across the rest of it.
"You work too fucking hard, you know that?" Heechul says after a while, eyes never leaving the soccer game on the screen.
"You're one to talk. You wouldn't injure yourself so much if you slept more," Yunho returns, eyelids heavy.
"Asshole," Heechul says. Then, after a while, "Don't tell any of those twats in my group about this shit, ok? You're the only dongsaeng I do this with."
Yunho smiles. "Don't tell Jaejoong or Changmin, but you're my favorite hyung, too."
Heechul rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in disgust. "Shut the fuck up and go to sleep."
Yes, things are different now, but some things never change, and Yunho still sleeps best with his head pillowed in Heechul's lap and Heechul's fingers running slowly through his hair.
For Us, By Us
pairing: Yunho/Heechul
Yunho still borrows Heechul's clothes when he comes back to Korea. It's different now, of course, because Heechul's clothes are different, and Heechul is different, and he's different, too. Everything's so different, in fact, that it's getting hard to remember what it was like back then, when they used to live together and go out without anyone batting an eyelash, when they used to wear what Heechul described with his horrendous English accent as 'urban chic.' The boys in the haduri flashing gang signs and cocky smiles are almost unrecognizable now, but some things never change, and so Yunho still borrows Heechul's clothes when he comes back to Korea.
"You look like a fag," Heechul says from the doorway, eyebrows furrowed severely. Yunho looks at himself in the mirror: white form-fitting jeans, poofy blouse, feather boa and rhinestone glasses. He looks like a fag and a half.
"I couldn't have done it without you," he says brightly over blinged out rims, and Heechul rolls his eyes.
"Fuck right, you couldn't," he mutters, and yanks at Yunho's boa. "Now come on-I'm gonna get fucked up on hard liquor tonight and you're buying." It's an empty threat. Heechul is too good a hyung for that-he never lets Yunho pay.
They go to a hole in the wall club Heechul's found, hidden in the gay back streets of Itaewon, where entertainment reporters don't dare go for fear of being seen by other entertainment reporters. Neither of them is gay, and that's the point, at least for Yunho. He's there to be not-himself, to drink irresponsibly and grind against men he has no intention of going home with, to flirt with the bartender and stumble out of the club in the early morning hours, sweaty and swerving and laughing hysterically at Heechul's rant about the travesty of gay men without the good taste enough to flirt with him.
They reach the noraebang just as the sun begins to peek above the horizon. Heechul shuts off the karaoke machine and switches the TV to a sports channel, and they watch in silence for a while, Heechul slouching low at one end of the padded bench and Yunho sprawled across the rest of it.
"You work too fucking hard, you know that?" Heechul says after a while, eyes never leaving the soccer game on the screen.
"You're one to talk. You wouldn't injure yourself so much if you slept more," Yunho returns, eyelids heavy.
"Asshole," Heechul says. Then, after a while, "Don't tell any of those twats in my group about this shit, ok? You're the only dongsaeng I do this with."
Yunho smiles. "Don't tell Jaejoong or Changmin, but you're my favorite hyung, too."
Heechul rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in disgust. "Shut the fuck up and go to sleep."
Yes, things are different now, but some things never change, and Yunho still sleeps best with his head pillowed in Heechul's lap and Heechul's fingers running slowly through his hair.