thirteen: interlude II {ocean's eleven au}
Title: Interlude II {10/? of Thirteen Series}
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): BangHim, ZiKyung, U-Bomb, TaePyo, DaeJae, JongLo
Summary: Thirteen is their lucky number
A/N: i told u after school ends i'd be a little faster :3 (but naw not rly i've been writing this part simultaneously with the other chapter so it was just kinda half-finished alr anyway lol)
The Crew / The Crew II / Infiltration / Infiltration II / Infiltration III // Reconnaissance // Construction // Interlude // Recon(struction) // Interlude II //
He doesn’t do much.
It’s been a week, and the trail has probably cooled down enough that Yongguk can sleep a little easier at night-doesn’t have to constantly have a bag packed in case they need to run-and he’s let himself indulge on the contents of the suite’s mini bar. But the fact remains that it’s been seven days and Himchan doesn’t do much-hasn’t done much. He hasn’t really spoken to Yongguk either. Granted, Yongguk hasn’t really tried so there’s no figuring out just yet if Himchan won’t speak unless Yongguk asks specific questions or if Himchan just doesn’t want to talk to Yongguk.
The minimal stuff-eating, sleeping, sitting still while Yongguk redresses the bullet wound, taking the pain meds Yongguk’s gotten for him-Himchan does it all like clockwork and spends the rest of his time sitting near the window on the sofa in the living room of the suite. Yongguk is still working on contacting Jaehyo to get the pendant and bracelet sold which means he’s on downtime right now, but he’s still scouting on alert whenever he goes downstairs to buy food from one of the resort’s restaurants just in case there’s a job he might want to pick up.
The first six days he’s too busy to really notice what Himchan does when he isn’t sleeping, eating, or getting his wound nursed by Yongguk. It’s not until the seventh day, a day Yongguk knows that Jaehyo definitely will be too busy to pick up calls on, that Yongguk decides to get some actual rest and sleeps in for once. He’s normally up before Himchan, but this morning he wakes up so late it’s nearly afternoon. The sun is already high up in the sky, filtering through the windows when he ambles in sweats and a t-shirt into the living room.
He swallows, pausing in the doorway.
They’d both bought several changes of clothes when they’d arrived at this resort, but today Himchan is back in the shirt he’d worn when they’d left the scene of the crime a week ago. It’s been washed of blood, thanks to a discreet trip down to the resort’s laundromat, but rather than crisp and pressed beneath a suit jacket, it’s wrinkled and rolled to the sleeves, unbuttoned and loose to show a strip of pale skin from milky throat to the tight waistband of boxer shorts on slender hips. He’s sprawled on the sofa the way he always is, bare thighs hanging over the armrest, only this time, he seems to be waiting-normally, by this time in the day, Yongguk would’ve already had breakfast and the first round of pain meds ready.
The sunlight plays against his pale skin and paler hair, disheveled and falling wetly over his face-freshly showered and uncombed. His face is turned just enough so that Yongguk can only guess at the expression the other thief is wearing and from where Yongguk stands it looks something between confused and contemplative. Himchan’s shoulders are hunched ever so slightly, curled in on himself enough to let Yongguk know, with all the observation skills that come with the job, that Himchan is heavy and aching with the events of a week ago.
Not even a sign of healing.
Yongguk is sure that if Himchan hadn’t turned and noticed him at that moment, Yongguk might’ve stood there for an eternity. Himchan’s expression snaps out of the thoughtful confusion and his eyes meet Yongguk’s with a raise of his eyebrows. “Sorry,” Yongguk says instantly, “woke up late.”
Something close to amusement, a shadow of it, flits across Himchan’s face. He shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt today,” he says, sitting up and, to Yongguk’s surprise, pats the empty space beside him on the couch, clearly gesturing for Yongguk to come sit. “I don’t need the meds.”
Yongguk crosses the room and sits.
It might’ve even been a smile that passes over Himchan’s mouth. “What’re you up to today? Still looking for a job?”
“Work in progress,” Yongguk answers. “I’m more focused on trying to get the stuff sold. Buyer’s not coming through.”
“Friend?”
“Yeah-he’s probably just-”
“Caught between jobs?”
Yongguk blinks.
Himchan’s lips press into a tiny, held-back smile.
“Were you eavesdropping?” Yongguk asks.
Himchan merely blinks back. “You can’t close your ears like you can close your eyes,” he says.
Yongguk can’t help it. He rolls his eyes and snorts, and the incredulity is fueled further when Himchan follows those words up with a flash of a grin that passes by too quickly-fast enough that Yongguk nearly misses it. But he doesn’t miss the expression that replaces the momentary amusement in Himchan’s eyes-confusion mixed with pain and loss. Himchan turns to face the window again, and the image of a caged bird flashes unbidden into Yongguk’s mind as he watches the other man gaze away.
“After I shower,” Yongguk says hesitantly, “I’m going down to see if there’s anything I can pull.” Himchan’s eyes are still firmly on the window. Yongguk looks down. “D’you want to come?”
“No,” and the answer is immediate and sure. Whatever had came over Himchan in a fit of civility-friendliness, even-had seemed to disappear as swiftly as it’d appeared. Yongguk feels unreasonably disappointed-it’d felt like he’d been just barely within reach, finally, of bringing back the Kim Himchan that had teased and taunted, bested and played with Yongguk all throughout their tight competition for the pendant and bracelet. Yongguk has no idea what to do with the unrecognizable man sitting here on the hotel sofa.
(will Dongsun find them? will Himchan go off to find Dongsun once his arm is healed?)
Yongguk stands up, eyes sweeping over the hunch of Himchan’s shoulders, the lonely curl of his body. “D’you want anything?” Yongguk asks, because in the seven days they’ve been here, Himchan’s been holed up in the suite with nothing but the food, clothes, and medicine Yongguk’s given him. He hasn’t even turned on the television-has literally remained unmoved from that sofa unless it’s to sleep or use the bathroom.
Himchan doesn’t turn around, but Yongguk sees the other man’s head tilt infinitesimally towards Yongguk. “Chocolate,” Himchan says lightly, “if you can find some.”
Yongguk raises his eyebrows, stretching an arm up to run fingers through his hair. “I-sure. Okay. Chocolate.”
Jaehyo calls Yongguk while he’s downstairs in the hotel’s confectionary, searching for what Himchan might constitute as suitable chocolate. Yongguk has his hands filled with two boxes of different types of assorted fudge so he holds the phone between his ear and shoulder. “You know how many times I called you?” Yongguk opens up with before Jaehyo gets a chance to speak. The response is an indignant splutter over the other line.
“You’re not the only one trying to earn an honest living in the world,” Jaehyo snaps back. “Lee Taeil had my hands tied behind my back-”
“I didn’t call to hear about your sex life-”
Jaehyo screeches like a dying cat and Yongguk bites back a grin. “Just tell me what you want to sell so I can hang up,” Jaehyo says waspishly.
Yongguk puts down the fudge with nuts and focuses on reading through the contents of the caramelized one. “A pendant and a bracelet-the ones that I told you about earlier-only, I mean, before I only talked about the pendant I think, but then the bracelet kind of fell with it. I’m in Busan right now-downtown-so I can get them sent to you whenever unless you’re going to send someone to get them. I just need the money in my account by the end of next week.”
There’s a pause for a long moment and Yongguk hears the sound of a computer whirring to life, followed by the clicks of a mouse. He waits for Jaehyo to check on the status of the requesting buyers and, in the meantime, ditches the caramelized fudge for mint fudge with chocolate chips and double frosting. “Okay,” Jaehyo says finally, “so I have a buyer lined up for the pendant and the bracelet-separately-and I can put together their payments in three days, but it’ll be in your account by five.”
“Sounds great,” Yongguk says.
“I’d send someone to get them from you,” Jaehyo continues, “but all my guys are tied down in their own cons right now. So you’ll just have to send it. I’m at my usual for the next few weeks so use that address.”
Yongguk decides on the double chocolate chip, triple frosting with powdered sugar and puts down the other choices he’d been weighing in his other hand. “I’ll send it tomorrow,” he says and ends the call.
Himchan isn’t gazing out the window anymore when Yongguk returns. He’s still spread out on the sofa, though, one arm hanging off the side and eyes closed lightly. Yongguk toes off his shoes and steps forward hesitantly. If Himchan’s asleep, then Yongguk would rather have him stay asleep as long as possible. From the sounds that come through Yongguk’s door at night, he doesn’t think Himchan’s been sleeping exactly as soundly as someone healing from a bullet wound should.
Yongguk makes to pass by the sofa, just to check if Himchan really is asleep, on his way to his own bedroom. He only manages to get by Himchan’s ankles before he catches sight of the other man’s open eyes, gazing straight up ahead at the ceiling. “He’s not bad,” Himchan says in a voice so quiet, Yongguk isn’t sure if it’s meant for him to hear-if maybe Himchan is just talking to himself, musing out loud.
Himchan sits up slowly, and regards Yongguk.
“You think he’s a bad person, right?” Himchan continues, and now Yongguk does know it’s meant for him because Himchan’s eyes are boring into his. “D’you think he betrayed me?”
Yongguk swallows, the hand that isn’t holding the bag of chocolate slipping into his pocket. “I don’t know,” he says, and wishes he could’ve said something better (wishes he could come up with the right words, ones that would take away some of the pain in Himchan’s eyes, some of the ache that weighs down every movement Himchan makes).
Himchan looks away, good hand ghosting fingers over the bandages on his wounded arm. Yongguk clears his throat when moments that feel like eternity pass and Himchan has made neither move nor spoken any further-it feels wrong for Yongguk to just disappear into his bedroom. “Here’s your chocolate,” Yongguk says and feels himself shrink a few inches shorter at the awkwardness in his own voice. He puts the bag down beside Himchan on the sofa.
At those words, Himchan glances at Yongguk briefly before his eyes find the chocolate. Slowly, the uninjured hand reaches out for the bag and rummages around in its contents until Himchan’s fingers seem to grasp one of the packages, pulling the fudge out and examining it. As Himchan turns it around in his hand, Yongguk takes a second glance at the bars as well and inwardly winces. He must’ve gotten distracted with the call to Jaehyo because otherwise Yongguk probably would’ve noticed that he chose fudges so sweet, they were literally sickening. Yongguk himself wouldn’t have eaten those bars even when he was three with the kind of sweet tooth only a toddler could still have.
“Sorry,” he coughs, reaching out to take the bars back when it becomes clear that Himchan, like any sane adult, isn’t going to eat pure sugar disguised as chocolate, “I was kind of out of it when I was getting them-”
Himchan gives Yongguk an odd look. “What’s wrong with them?”
Yongguk returns the look in full measure. “They’re blocks of sugar,” he says. “You don’t want to eat straight up sugar-”
But Himchan protectively shoulders the bars out of Yongguk’s reach. “Why not?”
Yongguk stares.
Himchan unwraps one of the bars, breaks off a piece, and begins to chew.
Yongguk feels himself shriveling as he watches an actual human being consume that much concentrated sugar in one mouthful. He doesn’t know why he stands there for another minute as Himchan rounds off the first bar in a disgustingly short amount of time. “You’re kind of weird, aren’t you?” Yongguk says.
Himchan yanks the wrapping off the second bar, and Yongguk realizes that Himchan has been singlehandedly pulling off the paper by himself, no help from Yongguk and without trying to use his injured hand at least as leverage. The ring and middle fingers to hold the bar and the index finger and thumb to peel the paper off. Yongguk holds back letting out an actual sigh of admiration, remembering how quickly Himchan had used those same deft fingers to pick the lock of the mark’s office-a lock that Yongguk had been considering detonating completely because Yongguk himself didn’t think he could pick it in any reasonable amount of time.
“Am I?” Himchan echoes absently-playfully-as he glances up at Yongguk, last part of the bar caught between his teeth, eyes crinkling into scrunched up half-moons.
Yongguk feels his chest tighten.
(breath catch)
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): BangHim, ZiKyung, U-Bomb, TaePyo, DaeJae, JongLo
Summary: Thirteen is their lucky number
A/N: i told u after school ends i'd be a little faster :3 (but naw not rly i've been writing this part simultaneously with the other chapter so it was just kinda half-finished alr anyway lol)
The Crew / The Crew II / Infiltration / Infiltration II / Infiltration III // Reconnaissance // Construction // Interlude // Recon(struction) // Interlude II //
He doesn’t do much.
It’s been a week, and the trail has probably cooled down enough that Yongguk can sleep a little easier at night-doesn’t have to constantly have a bag packed in case they need to run-and he’s let himself indulge on the contents of the suite’s mini bar. But the fact remains that it’s been seven days and Himchan doesn’t do much-hasn’t done much. He hasn’t really spoken to Yongguk either. Granted, Yongguk hasn’t really tried so there’s no figuring out just yet if Himchan won’t speak unless Yongguk asks specific questions or if Himchan just doesn’t want to talk to Yongguk.
The minimal stuff-eating, sleeping, sitting still while Yongguk redresses the bullet wound, taking the pain meds Yongguk’s gotten for him-Himchan does it all like clockwork and spends the rest of his time sitting near the window on the sofa in the living room of the suite. Yongguk is still working on contacting Jaehyo to get the pendant and bracelet sold which means he’s on downtime right now, but he’s still scouting on alert whenever he goes downstairs to buy food from one of the resort’s restaurants just in case there’s a job he might want to pick up.
The first six days he’s too busy to really notice what Himchan does when he isn’t sleeping, eating, or getting his wound nursed by Yongguk. It’s not until the seventh day, a day Yongguk knows that Jaehyo definitely will be too busy to pick up calls on, that Yongguk decides to get some actual rest and sleeps in for once. He’s normally up before Himchan, but this morning he wakes up so late it’s nearly afternoon. The sun is already high up in the sky, filtering through the windows when he ambles in sweats and a t-shirt into the living room.
He swallows, pausing in the doorway.
They’d both bought several changes of clothes when they’d arrived at this resort, but today Himchan is back in the shirt he’d worn when they’d left the scene of the crime a week ago. It’s been washed of blood, thanks to a discreet trip down to the resort’s laundromat, but rather than crisp and pressed beneath a suit jacket, it’s wrinkled and rolled to the sleeves, unbuttoned and loose to show a strip of pale skin from milky throat to the tight waistband of boxer shorts on slender hips. He’s sprawled on the sofa the way he always is, bare thighs hanging over the armrest, only this time, he seems to be waiting-normally, by this time in the day, Yongguk would’ve already had breakfast and the first round of pain meds ready.
The sunlight plays against his pale skin and paler hair, disheveled and falling wetly over his face-freshly showered and uncombed. His face is turned just enough so that Yongguk can only guess at the expression the other thief is wearing and from where Yongguk stands it looks something between confused and contemplative. Himchan’s shoulders are hunched ever so slightly, curled in on himself enough to let Yongguk know, with all the observation skills that come with the job, that Himchan is heavy and aching with the events of a week ago.
Not even a sign of healing.
Yongguk is sure that if Himchan hadn’t turned and noticed him at that moment, Yongguk might’ve stood there for an eternity. Himchan’s expression snaps out of the thoughtful confusion and his eyes meet Yongguk’s with a raise of his eyebrows. “Sorry,” Yongguk says instantly, “woke up late.”
Something close to amusement, a shadow of it, flits across Himchan’s face. He shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt today,” he says, sitting up and, to Yongguk’s surprise, pats the empty space beside him on the couch, clearly gesturing for Yongguk to come sit. “I don’t need the meds.”
Yongguk crosses the room and sits.
It might’ve even been a smile that passes over Himchan’s mouth. “What’re you up to today? Still looking for a job?”
“Work in progress,” Yongguk answers. “I’m more focused on trying to get the stuff sold. Buyer’s not coming through.”
“Friend?”
“Yeah-he’s probably just-”
“Caught between jobs?”
Yongguk blinks.
Himchan’s lips press into a tiny, held-back smile.
“Were you eavesdropping?” Yongguk asks.
Himchan merely blinks back. “You can’t close your ears like you can close your eyes,” he says.
Yongguk can’t help it. He rolls his eyes and snorts, and the incredulity is fueled further when Himchan follows those words up with a flash of a grin that passes by too quickly-fast enough that Yongguk nearly misses it. But he doesn’t miss the expression that replaces the momentary amusement in Himchan’s eyes-confusion mixed with pain and loss. Himchan turns to face the window again, and the image of a caged bird flashes unbidden into Yongguk’s mind as he watches the other man gaze away.
“After I shower,” Yongguk says hesitantly, “I’m going down to see if there’s anything I can pull.” Himchan’s eyes are still firmly on the window. Yongguk looks down. “D’you want to come?”
“No,” and the answer is immediate and sure. Whatever had came over Himchan in a fit of civility-friendliness, even-had seemed to disappear as swiftly as it’d appeared. Yongguk feels unreasonably disappointed-it’d felt like he’d been just barely within reach, finally, of bringing back the Kim Himchan that had teased and taunted, bested and played with Yongguk all throughout their tight competition for the pendant and bracelet. Yongguk has no idea what to do with the unrecognizable man sitting here on the hotel sofa.
(will Dongsun find them? will Himchan go off to find Dongsun once his arm is healed?)
Yongguk stands up, eyes sweeping over the hunch of Himchan’s shoulders, the lonely curl of his body. “D’you want anything?” Yongguk asks, because in the seven days they’ve been here, Himchan’s been holed up in the suite with nothing but the food, clothes, and medicine Yongguk’s given him. He hasn’t even turned on the television-has literally remained unmoved from that sofa unless it’s to sleep or use the bathroom.
Himchan doesn’t turn around, but Yongguk sees the other man’s head tilt infinitesimally towards Yongguk. “Chocolate,” Himchan says lightly, “if you can find some.”
Yongguk raises his eyebrows, stretching an arm up to run fingers through his hair. “I-sure. Okay. Chocolate.”
Jaehyo calls Yongguk while he’s downstairs in the hotel’s confectionary, searching for what Himchan might constitute as suitable chocolate. Yongguk has his hands filled with two boxes of different types of assorted fudge so he holds the phone between his ear and shoulder. “You know how many times I called you?” Yongguk opens up with before Jaehyo gets a chance to speak. The response is an indignant splutter over the other line.
“You’re not the only one trying to earn an honest living in the world,” Jaehyo snaps back. “Lee Taeil had my hands tied behind my back-”
“I didn’t call to hear about your sex life-”
Jaehyo screeches like a dying cat and Yongguk bites back a grin. “Just tell me what you want to sell so I can hang up,” Jaehyo says waspishly.
Yongguk puts down the fudge with nuts and focuses on reading through the contents of the caramelized one. “A pendant and a bracelet-the ones that I told you about earlier-only, I mean, before I only talked about the pendant I think, but then the bracelet kind of fell with it. I’m in Busan right now-downtown-so I can get them sent to you whenever unless you’re going to send someone to get them. I just need the money in my account by the end of next week.”
There’s a pause for a long moment and Yongguk hears the sound of a computer whirring to life, followed by the clicks of a mouse. He waits for Jaehyo to check on the status of the requesting buyers and, in the meantime, ditches the caramelized fudge for mint fudge with chocolate chips and double frosting. “Okay,” Jaehyo says finally, “so I have a buyer lined up for the pendant and the bracelet-separately-and I can put together their payments in three days, but it’ll be in your account by five.”
“Sounds great,” Yongguk says.
“I’d send someone to get them from you,” Jaehyo continues, “but all my guys are tied down in their own cons right now. So you’ll just have to send it. I’m at my usual for the next few weeks so use that address.”
Yongguk decides on the double chocolate chip, triple frosting with powdered sugar and puts down the other choices he’d been weighing in his other hand. “I’ll send it tomorrow,” he says and ends the call.
Himchan isn’t gazing out the window anymore when Yongguk returns. He’s still spread out on the sofa, though, one arm hanging off the side and eyes closed lightly. Yongguk toes off his shoes and steps forward hesitantly. If Himchan’s asleep, then Yongguk would rather have him stay asleep as long as possible. From the sounds that come through Yongguk’s door at night, he doesn’t think Himchan’s been sleeping exactly as soundly as someone healing from a bullet wound should.
Yongguk makes to pass by the sofa, just to check if Himchan really is asleep, on his way to his own bedroom. He only manages to get by Himchan’s ankles before he catches sight of the other man’s open eyes, gazing straight up ahead at the ceiling. “He’s not bad,” Himchan says in a voice so quiet, Yongguk isn’t sure if it’s meant for him to hear-if maybe Himchan is just talking to himself, musing out loud.
Himchan sits up slowly, and regards Yongguk.
“You think he’s a bad person, right?” Himchan continues, and now Yongguk does know it’s meant for him because Himchan’s eyes are boring into his. “D’you think he betrayed me?”
Yongguk swallows, the hand that isn’t holding the bag of chocolate slipping into his pocket. “I don’t know,” he says, and wishes he could’ve said something better (wishes he could come up with the right words, ones that would take away some of the pain in Himchan’s eyes, some of the ache that weighs down every movement Himchan makes).
Himchan looks away, good hand ghosting fingers over the bandages on his wounded arm. Yongguk clears his throat when moments that feel like eternity pass and Himchan has made neither move nor spoken any further-it feels wrong for Yongguk to just disappear into his bedroom. “Here’s your chocolate,” Yongguk says and feels himself shrink a few inches shorter at the awkwardness in his own voice. He puts the bag down beside Himchan on the sofa.
At those words, Himchan glances at Yongguk briefly before his eyes find the chocolate. Slowly, the uninjured hand reaches out for the bag and rummages around in its contents until Himchan’s fingers seem to grasp one of the packages, pulling the fudge out and examining it. As Himchan turns it around in his hand, Yongguk takes a second glance at the bars as well and inwardly winces. He must’ve gotten distracted with the call to Jaehyo because otherwise Yongguk probably would’ve noticed that he chose fudges so sweet, they were literally sickening. Yongguk himself wouldn’t have eaten those bars even when he was three with the kind of sweet tooth only a toddler could still have.
“Sorry,” he coughs, reaching out to take the bars back when it becomes clear that Himchan, like any sane adult, isn’t going to eat pure sugar disguised as chocolate, “I was kind of out of it when I was getting them-”
Himchan gives Yongguk an odd look. “What’s wrong with them?”
Yongguk returns the look in full measure. “They’re blocks of sugar,” he says. “You don’t want to eat straight up sugar-”
But Himchan protectively shoulders the bars out of Yongguk’s reach. “Why not?”
Yongguk stares.
Himchan unwraps one of the bars, breaks off a piece, and begins to chew.
Yongguk feels himself shriveling as he watches an actual human being consume that much concentrated sugar in one mouthful. He doesn’t know why he stands there for another minute as Himchan rounds off the first bar in a disgustingly short amount of time. “You’re kind of weird, aren’t you?” Yongguk says.
Himchan yanks the wrapping off the second bar, and Yongguk realizes that Himchan has been singlehandedly pulling off the paper by himself, no help from Yongguk and without trying to use his injured hand at least as leverage. The ring and middle fingers to hold the bar and the index finger and thumb to peel the paper off. Yongguk holds back letting out an actual sigh of admiration, remembering how quickly Himchan had used those same deft fingers to pick the lock of the mark’s office-a lock that Yongguk had been considering detonating completely because Yongguk himself didn’t think he could pick it in any reasonable amount of time.
“Am I?” Himchan echoes absently-playfully-as he glances up at Yongguk, last part of the bar caught between his teeth, eyes crinkling into scrunched up half-moons.
Yongguk feels his chest tighten.
(breath catch)