Fic: In the line of fire (U)
Title: In the line of fire (U)
Author: Sev-chu
Pairing: Jaejoong x Changmin, Yunho x Junsu (Yunho x ofc) Yoochun x ofc(s)
Rating: R for violence and blood
Summary: Mob wars are painting the streets of Hong Kong and Japan red with blood ensnaring the rogue cop in its wake. Can Yunho find him in time to save him and is he ready for what he finds? Can the gangs unite to stop the violence or will they tear each other apart with their greed
Warm arms, warm arms were holding him tight as he opened first one eye and then the other. He didn’t remember falling asleep in these arms. He remembered the cold floor, the dim sunlight, the stench of sex, but not the tender embrace that now held him tight. Trying to roll over onto his side he was rendered breathless by the pain that shot through his whole body like every bone in lanky, half-starved frame had been broken, and that’s when he remembered the fists, the man beating him for the rage he carried in his heart.
“Shhhh, stay still Hyung, let your ribs heal.”
“Yoochunnie, thank you.”
“I wish you would stop doing this Jaejoong-ah, I wish you’d take my` offer. Join the Gods of the East.”
“And live like a common criminal? No Yoochun.”
“I don’t live like a common criminal and you know it. Quit making excuses.”
He could feel Yoochun’s smile press into his shoulder and he tried to smile in return. Yoochun was right, he had seen the man’s lavish penthouse more than once now. The large ceilings and designer furniture had taken his breath away, not to mention all of the expensive food that stuffed the refrigerator and eventually his stomach.
“Please Hyung, I can’t keep doing this.”
“You care too much.”
He could feel Yoochun’s smile turn to tears. The tiny warm droplets of water shed by the younger man’s eyes splashed on the skin of his neck dampening his hairline. He wished he could roll over and kiss the other man’s forehead, his soft lips. He knew the other man would accept the small token of his affection. They may have only known each other a short time, but it was astonishing how quickly they had fallen for each other becoming inseparable. He sighed to himself. It was always his luck. The ones he loved the most were always straight.
“Maybe,” Yoochun mumbled into his skin.
“I’ll only accept your offer is you accept mine.”
“I’m not sleeping with you unless you magically know how to grow cute, perky little breasts and a hot pussy.”
The retching noise he made got a laugh from Yoochun. “Try the other offer.”
“No, I won’t let you get hurt over something that’s my business no matter how much I miss him, and how much I want revenge.”
“I’m already getting hurt Yoochunnie.” He wiped the dried blood that Yoochun had missed from the corner of his mouth. “It’s time you healed too; let me help you like you always help me.”
... ... ...
The busy streets of New York City made his head spin as they sat in the sleek, black sedan. The top was rolled back to let in the afternoon, summer sun, the smoke from their combined cigarettes billowing out into the warm spring air.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Yoochun griped, tapping the ash off the end of his smoke.
“Shut up, we’re healing. I need a vacation and you need closer. Now, I thought you said the guy always comes here? I haven’t seen anyone that looks remotely Yakuza.”
“That’s because you’re looking on the wrong side of the street,” Yoochun laughed. “Hyung, you promised me you knew what you were doing. You said you knew how to find people.”
“I do. I am a whore after all. The rest … I may have embellished a bit.”
“So you lied.”
“I never lie.”
He let the wind blow through his hair. It was nice to be away from the street, the eyes that were constantly on him, wanting him, judging him, hating him. The bustle of the street was starting to bore him but he was determined to help Yoochun find the man responsible for his brother’s murder. He remembered Yoochun showing him a picture of Yoohwan. The younger Park had been a cute kid, a good student, and a good son. He sighed. Yoochun should have known running with the Korean mob would have put his family in danger. He had seen enough of the Yakuza’s presence to know all gangs functioned the same way. But he also knew the guilt that Yoochun carried around, the helplessness he had felt, and the sadness he still had.
“How do you know he’s still here? Maybe he’s dead.”
“I’ haven’t spent the last five years in Japan gaining favour in the syndicate for nothing you know. Trust me, he’s ...”
“Right there.”
“Hm, no Jaejoong, he’s…”
“Right there!”
... ... ...
“You remember what I showed you right?”
“Yes.”
“You remember what I told you right?”
“Yes”
“You remember what I showed you right?”
“Yoochun!” he slapped the other man. “You’re such a shitty leader.”
“Quit laughing at me Hyung,” Yoochun smirked, checking the clip before he slid it into his gun.
They had been planning the hit for a full week, watching the man’s every move. The places he frequented and at what times. They had even established some of the syndicate’s activities that would be useful upon their return to the Gods of the East. Yoochun had allowed them to take their time. It warmed his heart to see the smile on Jaejoong’s face as he fell into the plush hotel bed, splashed water at him in the suite’s hot tub. He hadn’t even minded sharing the large king sized bed with the other man. They had shared far smaller beds in the past. He smiled at the memory; it was as if he had had the chance to find another brother, not someone to replace Yoohwan, but someone long lost who was now found. Someone he would promise to protect in the way he wasn’t able to protect his own, real brother.
... ... ...
“You know, I think you should apologize.”
He punched the man again, hard in the gut, and he doubled over clutching his stomach. It felt good, retribution for all of the times he had been beaten and left whimpering, naked and used on the floor. The old man looked up at him as best he could through is swollen eyes, his broken lip bleeding freely down his chin. It had been easy to find him, like following the ice cream truck down the street until it finally stopped; Yoochun stood at his side, gun down, the man no longer a threat.
The man remained silent, a knowing glint of hatred in his eyes.
“Whatever, your soul, not mine,” he looked over at the younger man, a half smirk on his face.
The silencer took most of the sound out of the shot, but not the impact, and the once upon a time enemy slumped down the wall. He caught Yoochun in his arms as the man began to sob, hugging him close. With all the fight drained of them, they just rocked back and forth as if in a dance. “Shhh, it’s over. ” He ran his hand through the younger man’s hair, pushing away slightly to wipe the tears off Yoochun’s cheeks.
The younger man hiccupped, sniffling into his shoulder, before walking over to the dead man to inspect his aim.
“Ew, you’re going to owe me a new shirt. At least have the decency to carry around tissue Park.”
“Will you settle for this?” Yoochun asked, holding up a sparkling silver dagger.
Yoochun watched the older man’s eyes glisten as he took in the weapon. Its intricately carved angel spreading her wings, fanning along the hilt of the dagger.
“She’s like a black angel.”
“The Angel of Death.”
... ... ...
“No, no, no, no, no. no,” Yoochun muttered, rolling the unconscious leader off Changmin.
The young man struggled to his hands and knees, leaning over his lover and pulling at the older man’s bloody shirt. He could hear Yunho retching in the background, Yoochun’s pale features warring with his near hyperventilating giving away how he felt about the situation.
“Shit! You self centered asshole, why the hell did you do that?”
Gunfire continued to pass by them in short staccato rhythm, their bodies tucked into a niche in the wall off to the side. A harsh groan brought Changmin’s attention to the wounded man’s stomach, a sharp indent in his creamy skin identifying where the bullet had entered his body.
“Give me your shirt.”
“What?”
“Yoochun, give me your shirt.”
The older man nodded, confused and numb, as he began to try to shrug out of his jacket. Adrenaline, fear, and panic warred with his brain’s ability to do anything and he was thankful to feel Yunho’s hands help him with the garment. Pretty sure he wasn’t getting the shirt back, Yoochun tugged popping all of the buttons, handing it to Changmin and slipping his jacket back on.
“Hold this here, get him to the car. Yunho, take him to Sungmin’s, only take him to the hospital if it’s absolutely necessary; Sungmin knows where.
I’m going after Donghae.”
“Changmin.”
“No arguing Yunho. Take him, and if he dies I’m holding the two of you personally responsible,” Changmin glared at the two men until then nodded in consent.
Gathering the fallen leader into their arms the four men fell back onto the ground as it began to shake under their feet, covered Jaejoong’s frame just in time to watch as half the building fell in a giant, earth rocking explosion.
Author: Sev-chu
Pairing: Jaejoong x Changmin, Yunho x Junsu (Yunho x ofc) Yoochun x ofc(s)
Rating: R for violence and blood
Summary: Mob wars are painting the streets of Hong Kong and Japan red with blood ensnaring the rogue cop in its wake. Can Yunho find him in time to save him and is he ready for what he finds? Can the gangs unite to stop the violence or will they tear each other apart with their greed
Warm arms, warm arms were holding him tight as he opened first one eye and then the other. He didn’t remember falling asleep in these arms. He remembered the cold floor, the dim sunlight, the stench of sex, but not the tender embrace that now held him tight. Trying to roll over onto his side he was rendered breathless by the pain that shot through his whole body like every bone in lanky, half-starved frame had been broken, and that’s when he remembered the fists, the man beating him for the rage he carried in his heart.
“Shhhh, stay still Hyung, let your ribs heal.”
“Yoochunnie, thank you.”
“I wish you would stop doing this Jaejoong-ah, I wish you’d take my` offer. Join the Gods of the East.”
“And live like a common criminal? No Yoochun.”
“I don’t live like a common criminal and you know it. Quit making excuses.”
He could feel Yoochun’s smile press into his shoulder and he tried to smile in return. Yoochun was right, he had seen the man’s lavish penthouse more than once now. The large ceilings and designer furniture had taken his breath away, not to mention all of the expensive food that stuffed the refrigerator and eventually his stomach.
“Please Hyung, I can’t keep doing this.”
“You care too much.”
He could feel Yoochun’s smile turn to tears. The tiny warm droplets of water shed by the younger man’s eyes splashed on the skin of his neck dampening his hairline. He wished he could roll over and kiss the other man’s forehead, his soft lips. He knew the other man would accept the small token of his affection. They may have only known each other a short time, but it was astonishing how quickly they had fallen for each other becoming inseparable. He sighed to himself. It was always his luck. The ones he loved the most were always straight.
“Maybe,” Yoochun mumbled into his skin.
“I’ll only accept your offer is you accept mine.”
“I’m not sleeping with you unless you magically know how to grow cute, perky little breasts and a hot pussy.”
The retching noise he made got a laugh from Yoochun. “Try the other offer.”
“No, I won’t let you get hurt over something that’s my business no matter how much I miss him, and how much I want revenge.”
“I’m already getting hurt Yoochunnie.” He wiped the dried blood that Yoochun had missed from the corner of his mouth. “It’s time you healed too; let me help you like you always help me.”
... ... ...
The busy streets of New York City made his head spin as they sat in the sleek, black sedan. The top was rolled back to let in the afternoon, summer sun, the smoke from their combined cigarettes billowing out into the warm spring air.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Yoochun griped, tapping the ash off the end of his smoke.
“Shut up, we’re healing. I need a vacation and you need closer. Now, I thought you said the guy always comes here? I haven’t seen anyone that looks remotely Yakuza.”
“That’s because you’re looking on the wrong side of the street,” Yoochun laughed. “Hyung, you promised me you knew what you were doing. You said you knew how to find people.”
“I do. I am a whore after all. The rest … I may have embellished a bit.”
“So you lied.”
“I never lie.”
He let the wind blow through his hair. It was nice to be away from the street, the eyes that were constantly on him, wanting him, judging him, hating him. The bustle of the street was starting to bore him but he was determined to help Yoochun find the man responsible for his brother’s murder. He remembered Yoochun showing him a picture of Yoohwan. The younger Park had been a cute kid, a good student, and a good son. He sighed. Yoochun should have known running with the Korean mob would have put his family in danger. He had seen enough of the Yakuza’s presence to know all gangs functioned the same way. But he also knew the guilt that Yoochun carried around, the helplessness he had felt, and the sadness he still had.
“How do you know he’s still here? Maybe he’s dead.”
“I’ haven’t spent the last five years in Japan gaining favour in the syndicate for nothing you know. Trust me, he’s ...”
“Right there.”
“Hm, no Jaejoong, he’s…”
“Right there!”
... ... ...
“You remember what I showed you right?”
“Yes.”
“You remember what I told you right?”
“Yes”
“You remember what I showed you right?”
“Yoochun!” he slapped the other man. “You’re such a shitty leader.”
“Quit laughing at me Hyung,” Yoochun smirked, checking the clip before he slid it into his gun.
They had been planning the hit for a full week, watching the man’s every move. The places he frequented and at what times. They had even established some of the syndicate’s activities that would be useful upon their return to the Gods of the East. Yoochun had allowed them to take their time. It warmed his heart to see the smile on Jaejoong’s face as he fell into the plush hotel bed, splashed water at him in the suite’s hot tub. He hadn’t even minded sharing the large king sized bed with the other man. They had shared far smaller beds in the past. He smiled at the memory; it was as if he had had the chance to find another brother, not someone to replace Yoohwan, but someone long lost who was now found. Someone he would promise to protect in the way he wasn’t able to protect his own, real brother.
... ... ...
“You know, I think you should apologize.”
He punched the man again, hard in the gut, and he doubled over clutching his stomach. It felt good, retribution for all of the times he had been beaten and left whimpering, naked and used on the floor. The old man looked up at him as best he could through is swollen eyes, his broken lip bleeding freely down his chin. It had been easy to find him, like following the ice cream truck down the street until it finally stopped; Yoochun stood at his side, gun down, the man no longer a threat.
The man remained silent, a knowing glint of hatred in his eyes.
“Whatever, your soul, not mine,” he looked over at the younger man, a half smirk on his face.
The silencer took most of the sound out of the shot, but not the impact, and the once upon a time enemy slumped down the wall. He caught Yoochun in his arms as the man began to sob, hugging him close. With all the fight drained of them, they just rocked back and forth as if in a dance. “Shhh, it’s over. ” He ran his hand through the younger man’s hair, pushing away slightly to wipe the tears off Yoochun’s cheeks.
The younger man hiccupped, sniffling into his shoulder, before walking over to the dead man to inspect his aim.
“Ew, you’re going to owe me a new shirt. At least have the decency to carry around tissue Park.”
“Will you settle for this?” Yoochun asked, holding up a sparkling silver dagger.
Yoochun watched the older man’s eyes glisten as he took in the weapon. Its intricately carved angel spreading her wings, fanning along the hilt of the dagger.
“She’s like a black angel.”
“The Angel of Death.”
... ... ...
“No, no, no, no, no. no,” Yoochun muttered, rolling the unconscious leader off Changmin.
The young man struggled to his hands and knees, leaning over his lover and pulling at the older man’s bloody shirt. He could hear Yunho retching in the background, Yoochun’s pale features warring with his near hyperventilating giving away how he felt about the situation.
“Shit! You self centered asshole, why the hell did you do that?”
Gunfire continued to pass by them in short staccato rhythm, their bodies tucked into a niche in the wall off to the side. A harsh groan brought Changmin’s attention to the wounded man’s stomach, a sharp indent in his creamy skin identifying where the bullet had entered his body.
“Give me your shirt.”
“What?”
“Yoochun, give me your shirt.”
The older man nodded, confused and numb, as he began to try to shrug out of his jacket. Adrenaline, fear, and panic warred with his brain’s ability to do anything and he was thankful to feel Yunho’s hands help him with the garment. Pretty sure he wasn’t getting the shirt back, Yoochun tugged popping all of the buttons, handing it to Changmin and slipping his jacket back on.
“Hold this here, get him to the car. Yunho, take him to Sungmin’s, only take him to the hospital if it’s absolutely necessary; Sungmin knows where.
I’m going after Donghae.”
“Changmin.”
“No arguing Yunho. Take him, and if he dies I’m holding the two of you personally responsible,” Changmin glared at the two men until then nodded in consent.
Gathering the fallen leader into their arms the four men fell back onto the ground as it began to shake under their feet, covered Jaejoong’s frame just in time to watch as half the building fell in a giant, earth rocking explosion.