Coffee Bastard, Part 6
Title: Coffee Bastard: Changtique Shoppe, The Sequel
Pairings/Characters: Yoochun/Junsu, Jaejoong/Changmin, Heechul/Yunho
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Yoochun is a hopeful idiot. Junsu needs to grow a pair. Ryeowook is a genius who bakes delicious cake.
A/N: Kris........<3 T.T
Coffee Bastard, Part 6
“You’re late.”
“Hey!” Junsu dodged the thin blue towel snapped in his face with a startled laugh. “Is that anyway to treat your guest who came alllll the way out here to help you? As a volunteer?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me I’m contractually obligated to babysit these monkeys!” Hyukjae waved the stack of orange cones in his hand at a tangle of adolescent limbs writhing on a nearby patch of astroturf. “Yah! Park Chanyeol! Get off of poor little Jonginnie before you break him! This is not American football!”
“‘Little Jonginnie’ my ass!” the tall forward with a tousled perm laughed as he slid off his teammate’s back.
“Can everyone please stop calling me little?” Jongin grumbled, pushing up to a kneeling position before staggering to his feet.
“It’s just because you’re sooooo cuuuuute!” the center forward with pink hair giggled obnoxiously as he dashed by to tweak the pout in Jongin’s chin. Jongin took after the senior who squealed like his jersey was on fire as he made his escape down the field and crashed into the broad shoulders of the team captain head on. Both landed in a squirming heap at the sideline, Jongin diving into the melee a moment later.
“Oh my god! I can’t look, I can’t--!”
“It’s ok, Hyukkie! They’re still alive!” Junsu threw an arm around Hyukjae’s skinny shoulders and tried to pry his clawing hands away from his face.
“But for how long,” Hyukjae moaned, finally giving in and letting Junsu pull him into a tight squeeze. “Seriously, guys!” he shouted into his cupped hands as soon as Junsu released him. “No dying allowed! At least not before The Big Game!”
“Got it, coach!” Chanyeol shouted with double thumbs up, even though he was only standing a foot away. Junsu grinned and made a lunge to ruffle his hair. Chanyeol’s fluffy halo of curls was particularly enjoyable to muss, almost as fun as attacking Jongwoon’s messy waves.
“Ok, guys!” Hyukjae clenched his chrome whistle between his teeth and tweeted.
“Over here!” Junsu clapped twice and waved his arms at the freshman who were “stretching” down at the end of the field, although it looked more like Baekhyun was taking a nap with his head in Kyungsoo’s lap while Sehun and Zitao were having an intense and angsty sulking session conducted entirely through telepathy and dark, soulful glares into each other’s eyes. It took a good five minutes and some good natured rib jabbing from Donghae (Hyukjae’s roommate and the team's official cheerleader) to get everyone gathered around the bench.
“Oh hi, Junsu!” Donghae dropped Sehun’s and Zitao’s wrists as he approached the growing circle and darted forward to fold Junsu into a warm hug. “I didn’t see you arrive! How was your holiday?”
“Um, not right now, Hae.” Junsu patted Donghae’s back. Donghae just hummed curiously, tucking his chin over Junsu’s shoulder and rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt.
“So! Welcome back, guys! How was your holiday?” Hyukjae hugged a soccer ball to his chest and grinned expectantly at his team.
“Good,” most of them mumbled, scuffing cleats into the prickly plastic turf or fisting the hems of their jerseys.
“Aw, come on! I’m sure it was more exciting than that!” Hyukjae prodded, his grin spreading wider to show off his gums.
“My brother gave me new porn,” Baekhyun volunteered with a yawn, scratching at the back of his fuzzy hair.
“I ate 37 dumplings in one sitting!” the pink haired kid said, twining his fingers into the goalie Minseok’s short hair. “In Beijing I always help my mother wrap them while we watch the countdown on CCTV and the--!”
“Get off, Luhan!” Minseok shoved the clingy striker off with a scowl as his fingers wandered to stroke over his teammate’s eyebrows. Luhan, right, pink hair. Junsu shook his head, trying to pin the information into his memory. Even though he had been helping with practices for almost a month some of the kids’ names, especially those of the Chinese exchange students, still eluded him.
That was ok, though. Junsu was an expert at camouflaging information gaps with the old nod-and-smile and no one had called him out on it yet, although Zitao’s eerily perceptive glares sometimes gave Junsu the creeping feeling he could see right through him and was just waiting for a strategic moment to expose every secret and humiliating memory Junsu didn’t want to think about. (There was a reason Junsu remembered Zitao’s name from their first meeting).
“...like you know anything about cooking, Luhan!” Junsu caught Kyungsoo’s dark smirk as he looked back to the circle, torn from his train of thought by an impatient huff from Hyukjae.
“Why don’t we start our drills and stuff?” Donghae suggested, drawing Luhan to his chest to prevent him from molesting the goalie further. Minseok edged closer to Baekhyun with a grateful smile.
“Let’s start with laps, get you guys moving, and then we can move on to Knockout!” Hyukjae tossed half his stack of plastic cones at Junsu’s chest. “Make sure your feet get good and warm, we need to work on first touch!”
“How many laps, coach?” Baekhyun moaned as he shuffled away from the circle.
“Until I tell you to stop! The holidays are over!” Hyukjae tweeted his whistle again.
“Let’s go, team!” The captain waved his players towards the field, propelling Zitao and Sehun forward with a broad palm braced against each of their backs. The skinny freshman both rolled their eyes but neither shook him off.
“Thanks, Yifan!” Hyukjae called and the captain gave a curt nod, his thick wave of bleach blonde hair caught back in a headband rippling in the breeze. Junsu shivered and jogged across the field to call encouragement from the opposite side.
“I’m going to beat you all!” Chanyeol yelled at the long signal blast from Hyukjae’s whistle, sprinting past Junsu in a blur with Baekhyun hot on his heels.
“Good afternoon, coach!” Joonmyun, a quiet senior that Junsu hadn’t talked to much yet briefly slowed his stride to bend forward in an awkward bow as he passed.
“Hey!” Junsu waved back. He jogged in place and watched them run the first lap, Minseok and Kyungsoo keeping a steady pace to some of the others’ rhythm of charge and lag. They seriously needed to build endurance before The Big Game and the five day weekend hadn’t done anyone favors. “Pick up your heels! Fighting!” Junsu shouted with a fist pump as Joonmyun and half the defense panted by a second time.
“Faster, faster!” Donghae urged, moon walking backwards on the bench. Junsu doubled over, his shoulders heaving with laughter as the self appointed cheerleader toppled off the bench with a shrieking flail. Hyukjae bent to give him a hand up and leaned over to whisper in his ear, probably an admonition to be more careful. Donghae was always looking for an opportunity to stand on stage, no matter if it happened to be a random piece of furniture in a public place.
Junsu was still catching his breath between nasal giggles when he noticed Hyukjae had slipped over to his side, leaving Donghae to his own devices back on the bench.
“So, how was your holiday?” Hyukjae asked, tugging at the sleek red cord of the whistle lanyard.
“Fine.” Junsu knocked over the stack of cones where he had dropped them at his feet and shoved the toe of his cleat into the hollow space.
“How are you parents?” Hyukjae twirled the whistle around and around on the lanyard, the cord pulled taught between his fingers.
“Fine, I guess.” Junsu bunched his shoulders into a shrug.
“Junho?”
“Breaking records in his sleep and stealing all the sweets before I could get to them, as usual.” Junsu huffed out a nervous laugh. Hyukjae didn’t look convinced, peering sideways at his friend with a slight quirk of his eyebrow. “My brother is fine, dumbass,” Junsu insisted. Hyukjae started to laugh before catching himself, crossing his arms across his chest and shooting Junsu a dark look.
“I know, I know, no profanity, I’m sorry. It just…” slipped out, kind of like the thin trickle of bitterness that seeped between his ribs and into his chest cavity at the mention of Junho. Junsu sucked in a deep breath, turning to shout a cheery “fighting!” to Jongdae as he puffed around the corner.
“But your parents...did you tell them about…” Junsu turned back to face a frowning Hyukjae, his eyes warm with concern. Junsu looked away and shrugged again, adjusting the waistband of his sweats.
“Yeah, whatever. It’s not like they care what I do at this point, anyway.”
“Junsu,” Hyukjae started in a mildly reproachful tone, but Junsu cut him off with a loud cheer as Minseok overtook a lagging Chanyeol on their eighth lap. Or maybe it was the tenth, he wasn’t really sure.
“So!” Junsu winked before closing the gap between himself and Hyukjae with a smooth sidestep, jostling their shoulders together. Hyukjae giggled and kicked at his shin. “Do you want to come to a spaghetti party this weekend? The more the merrier!”
“Is this a thing with your work?” Hyukjae brushed his feathery fringe out of his eyes, his lips still spread wide but sliding down at the corners.
“There will be various kinds of spaghetti! For free!”
“If your boss is going to be there you can count me out.” Hyukjae slid his slender arms in their puffy coat sleeves tighter across his middle.
“Oh, come on!” Junsu wheedled, licking his lips and frowning his best pout. Hyukjae didn’t even turn his head. “You won’t even notice he’s there! Probably.”
“Yeah, no thanks. It’s a little hard to ignore your host at a party. Especially when he has a penchant for violating personal space.”
“You’re complaining about personal space, and you live with Donghae,” Junsu pointed out. “Donghae, Hyukkie.”
“Donghae doesn’t feel up my face!” Hyukjae countered, stepping back with his hands braced on his hips. Junsu grinned sheepishly. Hyukjae kind of had a point.
“You could wear a mask?” Junsu bounced on his heels, his rubber soled cleats squeaking softly against the green plastic beneath them. “They have some really cute pink ones on sale at the school convenience store, since it’s cold and flu season right now. You want me to--”
Hyukjae blew his whistle as the crowd of stragglers passed the finish on their tenth lap. Baekhyun promptly fell over into the “grass”, yelping out a strangled scream as his face hit the sharp plastic blades.
“Why don’t you invite your karaoke friend?”
“Jaejoong-hyung?” Junsu blinked. Jae-hyung did like Jongwoon’s pasta. Hyukjae blasted his whistle as loud as he could, his cheeks ballooning out with the force of his breath. Junsu snickered into his palm at the mental image of Hyukjae as a puffer fish. If he just spiked his hair with a little gel and--
“Ok, on your feet, Baekhyunnie! Let’s get those cones set up!”
Junsu sighed and pulled out his phone, peeling off his right glove to draft a message to Jaejoong. Jaejoong hadn’t really met Krystal yet. That could be interesting. Junsu hit send and dropped his phone back into the deep pocket of his sweats, biting back a smile and and bending to grab the orange cones at his feet.
“Let me help you with that.” Slender fingers with a sleek coat of black polish on the perfectly shaped nails caught the point of of the top cone in a tight grasp, intercepting Junsu’s grab. Junsu looked up meet Zitao’s dark eyes above a tight lipped smirk. Or maybe the kid was actually trying to smile, it was hard to tell.
“Thanks…” Junsu dropped his hand and watched Zitao tun and walk away with a lazy sway in his gait. Junsu shrugged to himself and jogged towards the bench where Baekhyun was attempting to copy Donghae’s dance moves and about succeed, at least at the falling-off-the-bench part. Chanyeol caught his teammate's wobbling legs in a tight embrace before Junsu made it past midfield, fortunately, and lowered him to safety. Junsu threw back his head for a laugh at Baekhyun's disgruntled protests. He had really missed hanging out with kids.
Pairings/Characters: Yoochun/Junsu, Jaejoong/Changmin, Heechul/Yunho
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Yoochun is a hopeful idiot. Junsu needs to grow a pair. Ryeowook is a genius who bakes delicious cake.
A/N: Kris........<3 T.T
Coffee Bastard, Part 6
“You’re late.”
“Hey!” Junsu dodged the thin blue towel snapped in his face with a startled laugh. “Is that anyway to treat your guest who came alllll the way out here to help you? As a volunteer?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me I’m contractually obligated to babysit these monkeys!” Hyukjae waved the stack of orange cones in his hand at a tangle of adolescent limbs writhing on a nearby patch of astroturf. “Yah! Park Chanyeol! Get off of poor little Jonginnie before you break him! This is not American football!”
“‘Little Jonginnie’ my ass!” the tall forward with a tousled perm laughed as he slid off his teammate’s back.
“Can everyone please stop calling me little?” Jongin grumbled, pushing up to a kneeling position before staggering to his feet.
“It’s just because you’re sooooo cuuuuute!” the center forward with pink hair giggled obnoxiously as he dashed by to tweak the pout in Jongin’s chin. Jongin took after the senior who squealed like his jersey was on fire as he made his escape down the field and crashed into the broad shoulders of the team captain head on. Both landed in a squirming heap at the sideline, Jongin diving into the melee a moment later.
“Oh my god! I can’t look, I can’t--!”
“It’s ok, Hyukkie! They’re still alive!” Junsu threw an arm around Hyukjae’s skinny shoulders and tried to pry his clawing hands away from his face.
“But for how long,” Hyukjae moaned, finally giving in and letting Junsu pull him into a tight squeeze. “Seriously, guys!” he shouted into his cupped hands as soon as Junsu released him. “No dying allowed! At least not before The Big Game!”
“Got it, coach!” Chanyeol shouted with double thumbs up, even though he was only standing a foot away. Junsu grinned and made a lunge to ruffle his hair. Chanyeol’s fluffy halo of curls was particularly enjoyable to muss, almost as fun as attacking Jongwoon’s messy waves.
“Ok, guys!” Hyukjae clenched his chrome whistle between his teeth and tweeted.
“Over here!” Junsu clapped twice and waved his arms at the freshman who were “stretching” down at the end of the field, although it looked more like Baekhyun was taking a nap with his head in Kyungsoo’s lap while Sehun and Zitao were having an intense and angsty sulking session conducted entirely through telepathy and dark, soulful glares into each other’s eyes. It took a good five minutes and some good natured rib jabbing from Donghae (Hyukjae’s roommate and the team's official cheerleader) to get everyone gathered around the bench.
“Oh hi, Junsu!” Donghae dropped Sehun’s and Zitao’s wrists as he approached the growing circle and darted forward to fold Junsu into a warm hug. “I didn’t see you arrive! How was your holiday?”
“Um, not right now, Hae.” Junsu patted Donghae’s back. Donghae just hummed curiously, tucking his chin over Junsu’s shoulder and rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt.
“So! Welcome back, guys! How was your holiday?” Hyukjae hugged a soccer ball to his chest and grinned expectantly at his team.
“Good,” most of them mumbled, scuffing cleats into the prickly plastic turf or fisting the hems of their jerseys.
“Aw, come on! I’m sure it was more exciting than that!” Hyukjae prodded, his grin spreading wider to show off his gums.
“My brother gave me new porn,” Baekhyun volunteered with a yawn, scratching at the back of his fuzzy hair.
“I ate 37 dumplings in one sitting!” the pink haired kid said, twining his fingers into the goalie Minseok’s short hair. “In Beijing I always help my mother wrap them while we watch the countdown on CCTV and the--!”
“Get off, Luhan!” Minseok shoved the clingy striker off with a scowl as his fingers wandered to stroke over his teammate’s eyebrows. Luhan, right, pink hair. Junsu shook his head, trying to pin the information into his memory. Even though he had been helping with practices for almost a month some of the kids’ names, especially those of the Chinese exchange students, still eluded him.
That was ok, though. Junsu was an expert at camouflaging information gaps with the old nod-and-smile and no one had called him out on it yet, although Zitao’s eerily perceptive glares sometimes gave Junsu the creeping feeling he could see right through him and was just waiting for a strategic moment to expose every secret and humiliating memory Junsu didn’t want to think about. (There was a reason Junsu remembered Zitao’s name from their first meeting).
“...like you know anything about cooking, Luhan!” Junsu caught Kyungsoo’s dark smirk as he looked back to the circle, torn from his train of thought by an impatient huff from Hyukjae.
“Why don’t we start our drills and stuff?” Donghae suggested, drawing Luhan to his chest to prevent him from molesting the goalie further. Minseok edged closer to Baekhyun with a grateful smile.
“Let’s start with laps, get you guys moving, and then we can move on to Knockout!” Hyukjae tossed half his stack of plastic cones at Junsu’s chest. “Make sure your feet get good and warm, we need to work on first touch!”
“How many laps, coach?” Baekhyun moaned as he shuffled away from the circle.
“Until I tell you to stop! The holidays are over!” Hyukjae tweeted his whistle again.
“Let’s go, team!” The captain waved his players towards the field, propelling Zitao and Sehun forward with a broad palm braced against each of their backs. The skinny freshman both rolled their eyes but neither shook him off.
“Thanks, Yifan!” Hyukjae called and the captain gave a curt nod, his thick wave of bleach blonde hair caught back in a headband rippling in the breeze. Junsu shivered and jogged across the field to call encouragement from the opposite side.
“I’m going to beat you all!” Chanyeol yelled at the long signal blast from Hyukjae’s whistle, sprinting past Junsu in a blur with Baekhyun hot on his heels.
“Good afternoon, coach!” Joonmyun, a quiet senior that Junsu hadn’t talked to much yet briefly slowed his stride to bend forward in an awkward bow as he passed.
“Hey!” Junsu waved back. He jogged in place and watched them run the first lap, Minseok and Kyungsoo keeping a steady pace to some of the others’ rhythm of charge and lag. They seriously needed to build endurance before The Big Game and the five day weekend hadn’t done anyone favors. “Pick up your heels! Fighting!” Junsu shouted with a fist pump as Joonmyun and half the defense panted by a second time.
“Faster, faster!” Donghae urged, moon walking backwards on the bench. Junsu doubled over, his shoulders heaving with laughter as the self appointed cheerleader toppled off the bench with a shrieking flail. Hyukjae bent to give him a hand up and leaned over to whisper in his ear, probably an admonition to be more careful. Donghae was always looking for an opportunity to stand on stage, no matter if it happened to be a random piece of furniture in a public place.
Junsu was still catching his breath between nasal giggles when he noticed Hyukjae had slipped over to his side, leaving Donghae to his own devices back on the bench.
“So, how was your holiday?” Hyukjae asked, tugging at the sleek red cord of the whistle lanyard.
“Fine.” Junsu knocked over the stack of cones where he had dropped them at his feet and shoved the toe of his cleat into the hollow space.
“How are you parents?” Hyukjae twirled the whistle around and around on the lanyard, the cord pulled taught between his fingers.
“Fine, I guess.” Junsu bunched his shoulders into a shrug.
“Junho?”
“Breaking records in his sleep and stealing all the sweets before I could get to them, as usual.” Junsu huffed out a nervous laugh. Hyukjae didn’t look convinced, peering sideways at his friend with a slight quirk of his eyebrow. “My brother is fine, dumbass,” Junsu insisted. Hyukjae started to laugh before catching himself, crossing his arms across his chest and shooting Junsu a dark look.
“I know, I know, no profanity, I’m sorry. It just…” slipped out, kind of like the thin trickle of bitterness that seeped between his ribs and into his chest cavity at the mention of Junho. Junsu sucked in a deep breath, turning to shout a cheery “fighting!” to Jongdae as he puffed around the corner.
“But your parents...did you tell them about…” Junsu turned back to face a frowning Hyukjae, his eyes warm with concern. Junsu looked away and shrugged again, adjusting the waistband of his sweats.
“Yeah, whatever. It’s not like they care what I do at this point, anyway.”
“Junsu,” Hyukjae started in a mildly reproachful tone, but Junsu cut him off with a loud cheer as Minseok overtook a lagging Chanyeol on their eighth lap. Or maybe it was the tenth, he wasn’t really sure.
“So!” Junsu winked before closing the gap between himself and Hyukjae with a smooth sidestep, jostling their shoulders together. Hyukjae giggled and kicked at his shin. “Do you want to come to a spaghetti party this weekend? The more the merrier!”
“Is this a thing with your work?” Hyukjae brushed his feathery fringe out of his eyes, his lips still spread wide but sliding down at the corners.
“There will be various kinds of spaghetti! For free!”
“If your boss is going to be there you can count me out.” Hyukjae slid his slender arms in their puffy coat sleeves tighter across his middle.
“Oh, come on!” Junsu wheedled, licking his lips and frowning his best pout. Hyukjae didn’t even turn his head. “You won’t even notice he’s there! Probably.”
“Yeah, no thanks. It’s a little hard to ignore your host at a party. Especially when he has a penchant for violating personal space.”
“You’re complaining about personal space, and you live with Donghae,” Junsu pointed out. “Donghae, Hyukkie.”
“Donghae doesn’t feel up my face!” Hyukjae countered, stepping back with his hands braced on his hips. Junsu grinned sheepishly. Hyukjae kind of had a point.
“You could wear a mask?” Junsu bounced on his heels, his rubber soled cleats squeaking softly against the green plastic beneath them. “They have some really cute pink ones on sale at the school convenience store, since it’s cold and flu season right now. You want me to--”
Hyukjae blew his whistle as the crowd of stragglers passed the finish on their tenth lap. Baekhyun promptly fell over into the “grass”, yelping out a strangled scream as his face hit the sharp plastic blades.
“Why don’t you invite your karaoke friend?”
“Jaejoong-hyung?” Junsu blinked. Jae-hyung did like Jongwoon’s pasta. Hyukjae blasted his whistle as loud as he could, his cheeks ballooning out with the force of his breath. Junsu snickered into his palm at the mental image of Hyukjae as a puffer fish. If he just spiked his hair with a little gel and--
“Ok, on your feet, Baekhyunnie! Let’s get those cones set up!”
Junsu sighed and pulled out his phone, peeling off his right glove to draft a message to Jaejoong. Jaejoong hadn’t really met Krystal yet. That could be interesting. Junsu hit send and dropped his phone back into the deep pocket of his sweats, biting back a smile and and bending to grab the orange cones at his feet.
“Let me help you with that.” Slender fingers with a sleek coat of black polish on the perfectly shaped nails caught the point of of the top cone in a tight grasp, intercepting Junsu’s grab. Junsu looked up meet Zitao’s dark eyes above a tight lipped smirk. Or maybe the kid was actually trying to smile, it was hard to tell.
“Thanks…” Junsu dropped his hand and watched Zitao tun and walk away with a lazy sway in his gait. Junsu shrugged to himself and jogged towards the bench where Baekhyun was attempting to copy Donghae’s dance moves and about succeed, at least at the falling-off-the-bench part. Chanyeol caught his teammate's wobbling legs in a tight embrace before Junsu made it past midfield, fortunately, and lowered him to safety. Junsu threw back his head for a laugh at Baekhyun's disgruntled protests. He had really missed hanging out with kids.