Metro Station/Bad Thing, Little Thing
Title: Metro Station/Bad Thing, Little Thing
Pairng: Yoosu
Genre: fluff/angst
Rating: PG14?
[note: one of these i actually posted in pieces as a response to the comments of another fic. both connect sort of, and they are complete, just short]
Metro Station
They’ve only been skating at the popular outdoor rink for a little under an hour, but it’s freezing under the stars and Junsu is shivering even wrapped up in his heavy black jacket. Yoochun takes one look at the breath puffing visibly in front of the man’s face before smiling, a shiver running through his own body, and suggesting that they leave the ice.
They head to the tables lining the edge of the rink and Junsu sits down to untie his skates, his feet already sore (ice skates never quite fit anyone comfortably). Yoochun pats his shoulder and heads off to buy them some instant coffee from the vending machines, pulling off one of his gloves to shove his hand in his pockets, searching for loose change.
Junsu leans back against the table, slouching down to get comfortable with his arms wrapped around himself. He absently watches Yoochun walk away before turning his gaze back to the skaters still out on the rink, gliding over the ice like they’re flying, enjoying the Holidays. He thinks of Yoochun struggling and falling on the ice and smiles.
When Yoochun returns with two steaming paper cups of coffee he finds Junsu already asleep, his mouth open ever so slightly, chest rising and falling as he breathes. The sky is clear but pitch black, the moon invisible for just this night, and the lights from the brightly lit rink with its blindingly white ice cast a glow over Junsu’s sleeping face.
Yoochun carefully sets the cups on the table behind Junsu’s head and leans down. He doesn’t want to wake the man, knowing how hard he’s been working lately, but he won’t be able to carry him back to the car. His still ungloved hand is warm from carrying the hot drinks and he reaches to cup the side of Junsu’s face with his palm.
Yoochun wakes Junsu up by pouring coffee flavored kisses into his mouth, soft and sweet and warm on his tongue. Junsu grumbles against his lips, something about being tired and cold, his eyes still closed as Yoochun straightens up. Then he eases them open and smiles, reaching out to grasp the front of Yoochun’s jacket, pulling him back in.
~ ~ ~ ~
Bad Thing, Little Thing
Junsu woke with a start, his eyes snapping open as his body jumped slightly, dreams of Yoochun and coffee and stars and ice swirling around at the edges of his mind. His head felt empty, blank, as if he was suspended in time for a moment. He blinked, his blurry vision adjusting to the darkness of the car, the blinding flash of headlights and streetlights that leaped into view before speeding away into the night. He was leaned against the window, riding in the passenger seat, his gaze cast at the black pavement of the freeway, watching as it slipped under the wheels and was lost.
He was vaguely aware of being comfortably warm with his arms crossed over his chest, the window pane cooling his forehead. He lifted his eyes to stare outward beyond the road, bridge supports breaking up the image of the water below, deep blue turned a black so dark that it could have swallowed Junsu up were it not for the occasional disturbance of waves. He blinked again, trying to remember where they were going, why he was there. He shifted finally, sitting up just a little and turning to glance at the man driving the car.
Yoochun had his eyes glued to the road ahead, his fists clenched so tight on the wheels of the car that his knuckles looked white even in the darkness. The lights from outside flashed across his face, striking his skin a brilliant white before casting it back into shadow, illuminating his angered expression. Junsu frowned, an uncomfortable feeling settling into his bones as he struggled to remember where they’d been, what they’d done, why… A memory lit like a struck match behind his eyes and the world spun a little.
Inside of a club, dark as the water, red and green lights flickering like those glowing on the car’s dashboard, loud music pounding in his ears, the beat vibrating in his very bones from the heavy bass… Junsu shifted again, shaking his head slowly. “Yoochun…” More memories pieced themselves together and he closed his eyes tightly, his skull pounding suddenly, a painful echo of the music. Heat and sweat and alcohol, too many people pressed together in one place, moving against each other on a dance floor, and Yoochun’s arms wrapped tight around him, bodies pressed so close…
Yoochun barely heard the soft voice, his name drifting on the air between them. He turned his head slightly, his anger easing to a look of concern. “Junsu?” The man in question had leaned back against the window, features contorted in discomfort. Junsu felt sick, the memories still catching up with him, but he squinted his eyes open to meet Yoochun’s. He could remember feeling heavy, unstable on his feet. Stumbling away from the floor, confused by the lights… The cool tile of the bathroom, muted music making the walls tremble, then a presence behind him, foreign hands on his body…
The car hit a bump in the road and bounced up, Junsu jerking with it, and he felt so sick. He could see the bathroom mirror overlapped with Yoochun’s worried eyes in the car and he tried to shake the image away. He could see himself, foreign hands on his body… unable to fight it, unable to push the stranger away, wanting to scream if only he could open his mouth, and Yoochun… where was Yoochun? Where…? Yoochun reached out a hand to cup Junsu’s face in his palm, his thumb brushing softly over the man’s cheekbone. “Junsu?” He struggled to keep his attention on the road.
Junsu reached up to grab his wrist with one hand, blinking as his eyes refocused on the car. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, fear making him tighten his grip on Yoochun’s hand. “Junsu, it’s ok.” Yoochun’s soothing deep voice as his vision swam again. “It’s ok, you’re gonna be ok…” A single tear leaked out and slid down Junsu’s cheek to pool against Yoochun’s thumb and he brushed it away, moving his hand to intertwine his fingers with Junsu’s. “It’s ok…”