Ocean's (Teaser/Pilot/whathaveyou)
this is just something that was born out of me reading too many otherhawk fics like i tOLD YOU ALL to read them so i hope you listened and if you didn't then you're missing out on some great literature in life. and i have no idea if this'll amount to anything but it's been in my head for weeks now and finally developed enough to start out and lemme just say one thing on this, the number is 13 and so 7 + 6 = 13
if you've watched ocean's 11, this'll make some sense to you. except obviously this has my kpop gay kpop spin to it
“Yes, Evans speaking,” he sits up, bolt straight in bed, eyes bleary and still very much asleep, but voice alert and clear-perfect, unaccented English-American, northeastern, clipped and pressed like a Manhattan businessman. “No, this is-” he falls silent, cut off as the voice on the other end of the phone launches into a vibrant explanation, laughing definitely at him.
He doesn’t mind though-not when it’s news this good.
“Fuck you,” he bursts into a reply of laughter-slipping easily, instantly, into Korean. “As soon as possible, yeah,” Jiho says fondly-excitedly. “We’ll call you back tomorrow if we can, but-I mean,” he pauses as the other voice deflects-assuring him that there’s no rush, no obligation, if Jiho and Kyung have a job then they have a job and the voice says that-
Jiho just laughs again-louder, this time, and loud enough that beside him on the bed, Kyung stirs through the darkness; blankets falling off bare shoulders. “We’ll call you back tomorrow,” Jiho repeats firmly and grins, hanging up.
Kyung glances at him-eyebrows raised.
Jiho blinks back, and smiles broadly.
“We’re not finishing this job, are we?” Kyung asks, as Jiho lies back down, bringing his arms around Kyung’s waist underneath the sheets.
“Nope,” Jiho chirps against Kyung’s hair. “He’s out.”
Kyung’s body stiffens in Jiho’s arms for a moment before the momentary surprise is replaced with a rush-a buzz right beneath Jiho’s fingertips as they press against Kyung’s hips and Jiho is met with eyes as excited as he feels through the darkness of the hotel room. “Thought he was in for longer,” Kyung muses.
“Good behavior-my guess, anyway,” Jiho shrugs.
“Himchan-hyung didn’t say anything about it?” Kyung asks.
Jiho shrugs again. “Didn’t say anything except the usual directions,” Jiho says, and then sighs pointedly. “Like in the good old days.”
“He’s back though,” Kyung counters. “So good old days are back.”
Jiho thinks about that-turns that train of thought around in his mind for a bit (flips casually through memories of laughter, of adrenaline rushes as safes are opened, as marks are tricked, as they walk out of sparkling doors again and again with their pockets full and hearts fuller). “Maybe.”
Kyung grins (Jiho can feel the curve of the other man’s lips against his own jaw). “Who’re we calling first?” Kyung slides closer against Jiho. “Bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Jaehyo-hyung,” Jiho answers without hesitation, and Kyung laughs under his breath. “Always Jaehyo-hyung.”
“He’s going to give us the piss.”
Jiho sighs contentedly. “Back to the good old days.”
if you've watched ocean's 11, this'll make some sense to you. except obviously this has my kpop gay kpop spin to it
“Yes, Evans speaking,” he sits up, bolt straight in bed, eyes bleary and still very much asleep, but voice alert and clear-perfect, unaccented English-American, northeastern, clipped and pressed like a Manhattan businessman. “No, this is-” he falls silent, cut off as the voice on the other end of the phone launches into a vibrant explanation, laughing definitely at him.
He doesn’t mind though-not when it’s news this good.
“Fuck you,” he bursts into a reply of laughter-slipping easily, instantly, into Korean. “As soon as possible, yeah,” Jiho says fondly-excitedly. “We’ll call you back tomorrow if we can, but-I mean,” he pauses as the other voice deflects-assuring him that there’s no rush, no obligation, if Jiho and Kyung have a job then they have a job and the voice says that-
Jiho just laughs again-louder, this time, and loud enough that beside him on the bed, Kyung stirs through the darkness; blankets falling off bare shoulders. “We’ll call you back tomorrow,” Jiho repeats firmly and grins, hanging up.
Kyung glances at him-eyebrows raised.
Jiho blinks back, and smiles broadly.
“We’re not finishing this job, are we?” Kyung asks, as Jiho lies back down, bringing his arms around Kyung’s waist underneath the sheets.
“Nope,” Jiho chirps against Kyung’s hair. “He’s out.”
Kyung’s body stiffens in Jiho’s arms for a moment before the momentary surprise is replaced with a rush-a buzz right beneath Jiho’s fingertips as they press against Kyung’s hips and Jiho is met with eyes as excited as he feels through the darkness of the hotel room. “Thought he was in for longer,” Kyung muses.
“Good behavior-my guess, anyway,” Jiho shrugs.
“Himchan-hyung didn’t say anything about it?” Kyung asks.
Jiho shrugs again. “Didn’t say anything except the usual directions,” Jiho says, and then sighs pointedly. “Like in the good old days.”
“He’s back though,” Kyung counters. “So good old days are back.”
Jiho thinks about that-turns that train of thought around in his mind for a bit (flips casually through memories of laughter, of adrenaline rushes as safes are opened, as marks are tricked, as they walk out of sparkling doors again and again with their pockets full and hearts fuller). “Maybe.”
Kyung grins (Jiho can feel the curve of the other man’s lips against his own jaw). “Who’re we calling first?” Kyung slides closer against Jiho. “Bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Jaehyo-hyung,” Jiho answers without hesitation, and Kyung laughs under his breath. “Always Jaehyo-hyung.”
“He’s going to give us the piss.”
Jiho sighs contentedly. “Back to the good old days.”