Fic: Facets, Chapter 3
Title: Facets, Chapter 3
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yunho, Junsu/Changmin
Rating: R-ish
Summary: AU fic! Yunho struggles with his feelings for Jaejoong, and wakes up in an alternate reality where he...also meets Jaejoong. Except this Jaejoong is quite different from the one he knows. Also involves secrets and grappling with the truth.
UM. YES. I really need a villian sort of character and while he wasn't the first person that came to mind I just thought it would fit so I APOLOGISE TO ANY YEHSUNG FANS OUT THERE. Um, right.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
“Yes, it’s me, don’t sound so surprised.” Changmin’s quirk of the lips is such a sight for sore eyes that Yunho almost launches himself on the younger boy in his relief. Until he remembers that this isn’t really Changmin. Well, not the Min he knows, at any rate.
“Changmin-ah, I have something to tell you-”
“No time.” Changmin’s gaze is nearly fevered behind his framed glasses. “You can tell me later. We did it! Look, this way, hurry-”
Yunho closes his mouth with a snap as Changmin latches onto his arm with a surprisingly strong grip, starts tugging him towards the bank of elevators, and Yunho lets himself be led away.
Did what, exactly? Yunho risks a sideways glance at Changmin. After the incident with Youngwoong in the bedroom, suddenly Yunho isn’t sure he really wants to know. He crosses his fingers as Changmin places his palm on the panel in the lift, speaks a number aloud; smiles weakly when Changmin turns to flash him a grin, all white, white teeth, and hopes for the best.
---
“Youngwoong.”
Youngwoong is barely out of the car when he hears the voice; he spins with startling dexterity, stretches out an arm to grip, twist…and finds himself up against the closed car door, arm twisted almost far enough up his back to hurt, the fingers on his other forearm close to bruising before he is released, too briefly, and then both his wrists are captured in a large hand, held tight.
“You’ve gotten better, Youngwoong…but still not fast enough.” The voice by his ear is low, dark, liquid, running rivulets down his spine like molten steel.
Youngwoong knows that voice. “Jongwoon.”
“Uh uh uh. It’s Yehsung to you, pretty.” The other man laughs softly. “Unless you’d prefer to be called Jaejoong.”
Youngwoong hisses, struggles, is pinned even more firmly for his efforts. “I stopped being Jaejoong a long time ago.”
“I know.” Yehsung’s tone changes, then, from an amused drawl to even, brisk, almost businesslike. “I see you got in.”
Youngwoong manages to bark a laugh. “So you sneak up behind me and shove me up against a car just to confirm what you already know?”
He can feel Yehsung’s smile on the nape of his neck. “We can never be too careful, Youngwoon-ah, you know that.” Youngwoong fights the involuntary shudder when Yehsung pulls them both back enough for his free hand to trail across Youngwoong’s chest, down and down and down to his naval, fingers pausing to toy with the piercing there through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Don’t touch me.”
Yehsung laughs again. “Oh, Youngwoong. Dear, sweet Youngwoong.” His fingers trail lower, then, ghost across Youngwoong’s painfully obvious erection, light, teasing friction that has Youngwoong arching into the contact. He attempts to stifle the groan that threatens to spill forth when Yehsung’s tongue trails down the line of his neck, and fails. He can feel Yehsung’s smirk when he draws his hand away, leans to breathe by his ear.
“You say one thing, Youngwoong…and your body says another.”
Youngwoong hisses, bucks. “Bastard.”
“Only us bastards rise high in this business. Or, at least, survive long enough to. Remember what your task is, and remember what you’ve been taught. Remember to…perform well.” Yehsung lets him go, then, and Youngwoong straightens, face burning, stares resolutely ahead and waits until he hears the whine of the motorcycle engine fade away in the distance before he can force himself to turn back around.
It takes him two more minutes for his hands to stop shaking long enough for him to smooth at his shirt, for his legs to feel strong enough to carry him through the main doors of Jungtech.
---
“Sit”, Changmin commands when they enter the office. Yunho blinks at the constant whirring and hum of machines, the banks upon banks of monitors, the papers and charts and readings strewn over almost every available surface. He shifts aside a stack of files carefully, sits in a high backed chair. Changmin is pointing and dragging a finger across a tabletop -that is really a screen, Yunho soon realizes, and starts to marvel over- and muttering to himself, about angles and altitudes and clarity and the occasional heated curse, some of which Yunho doesn’t recognize but understands the sentiment behind well enough.
“There!”
Changmin is straightening and beckoning Yunho closer. “Remember the rent we told you about, the one over the Lamask falls?”
Changmin makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat at Yunho’s blank gaze. “Never mind. We discovered a rent over the falls, to cut a long story short. A small ruptured seam in reality. Naturally, we enlarged it enough for us to send in a satellite of sorts to monitor what there is on the other side. And yes, Yunho, we’ve been through this before countless times, so don’t start, I know how you feel about messing with the fabric of reality, but we closed it right up. And we have the feed, right here.” Changmin frowns then, shoulders slumping slightly. “Though what we’ve seen so far has been extremely disappointing. The whole world seems destroyed and utterly ruined. We suspect a war, of sorts, something of vast proportions, to eradicate everything like that.”
Yunho moves over to look down at the screen, winces at the barren, flattened, grey landscape, the twisted contraptions of metal, the ashes and the smoke and the grit. “Turn it off, please.”
Changmin sighs, and the screen blinks and turns back to solid black with a touch of his forefinger. “We call it World 0. Apt, don’t you think?”
Yunho grunts noncommittally. Worlds, Changmin said. That would explain a lot. Different worlds. “What did you say about worlds, Changmin?”
Changmin frowns. “We’ve been through this before. Worlds, Yunho, alternate realities. For every action there are consequences. It could be small things, or huge, history altering events. In any case, every time someone does something, or chooses not to, reality branches out. Diverges, if you will, into different paths, different cycles, which would mean there are thousands, millions of alternate realities, some close enough to almost mirror each other, others wildly different. Imagine a primeval reality, if you will, a world without technology, or a civilization far more advanced than ours, or…” Changmin stops, trails off at Yunho’s stricken expression. “Is something wrong?”
“Changmin, I-”
“Sir? Sir, the files you wanted.”
“Oh? Oh, yes, set them there, thank you.”
Yunho bites down on his lip, hard, when Junsu, clad only in loose jeans, enters the room and places small metal chips on the table by Changmin’s hand. Yunho has to clap a hand over his mouth when Changmin smiles warmly down at the shorter boy before drawing him up into a deep, exquisitely prolonged kiss, all lips and tongue and soft satisfied sounds from Junsu, and Yunho wonders if he should cover his eyes, knows he’s scarred for life all the same, and clears his throat loudly.
Junsu pulls away, flushes, looks down. Changmin, much to Yunho’s indignation, is unfazed. “Thank you. I’ll see you after lunch.”
Yunho finds his voice once Junsu is safely out of the room. “W- was that Junsu?”
Changmin glances at him. “Xiah, he’s called now. But yes, that was Junsu.”
“He…works for you.”
“Yes. He does.” Changmin raises an eyebrow then, smirks. “I wouldn’t think you’d be unfamiliar to the concept, seeing as you have a staff of at least thirty.” Changmin shakes his head. “While I understand the attraction I’ll never know what you do with so many. They’re hardly toys, though I know of some individuals who’d beg to differ.”
Yunho shakes his head, mostly in a futile attempt to chase the image of Xiah and Changmin out of his head. “Listen, Changmin-”
“Ah, Changmin, there you are. I just ran into your boy in the hallway. Half naked. You and your kinks, you bastard, do you really have to bring them to work with you? Though, very pretty, I must say, even if he is really shy- ah. Mr Jung. Didn’t see you there.”
It’s Yoochun this time and Yunho reminds himself to close his mouth before he attracts flies, decides it’s best not to say anything, and settles for a grave nod.
Changmin doesn’t look up from sorting through a pile of charts. “Stop having designs on all my staff, Micky.”
Yooch- Micky effects a pout which is then replaced just a swiftly by a broad grin. “Well, this one’s really pretty.”
“You say that about all of them.”
“Oh, come now, Minnie-ah, you can share.” Micky winks, then turns to regard Yunho. “Nice to see your fashion sense has improved, Mr. Jung”, and then he is ducking back out the door, and Yunho can hear him whistling on his way back down the corridor.
“Don’t even say it.” Changmin’s is peering at another monitor this time. “We’ve been through this before, too. You know as well as I do why you haven’t fired him yet. He’s brilliant at what he does.”
Enough interruptions, Yunho thinks. “Changmin, listen!” Changmin turns around, looks only vaguely interested, more annoyed at being interrupted at his work. Yunho scowls, spreads his hands, tries again.
“I’m…not who you think I am.”
Outside, Youngwoong pauses, presses closer to the door.
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yunho, Junsu/Changmin
Rating: R-ish
Summary: AU fic! Yunho struggles with his feelings for Jaejoong, and wakes up in an alternate reality where he...also meets Jaejoong. Except this Jaejoong is quite different from the one he knows. Also involves secrets and grappling with the truth.
UM. YES. I really need a villian sort of character and while he wasn't the first person that came to mind I just thought it would fit so I APOLOGISE TO ANY YEHSUNG FANS OUT THERE. Um, right.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
“Yes, it’s me, don’t sound so surprised.” Changmin’s quirk of the lips is such a sight for sore eyes that Yunho almost launches himself on the younger boy in his relief. Until he remembers that this isn’t really Changmin. Well, not the Min he knows, at any rate.
“Changmin-ah, I have something to tell you-”
“No time.” Changmin’s gaze is nearly fevered behind his framed glasses. “You can tell me later. We did it! Look, this way, hurry-”
Yunho closes his mouth with a snap as Changmin latches onto his arm with a surprisingly strong grip, starts tugging him towards the bank of elevators, and Yunho lets himself be led away.
Did what, exactly? Yunho risks a sideways glance at Changmin. After the incident with Youngwoong in the bedroom, suddenly Yunho isn’t sure he really wants to know. He crosses his fingers as Changmin places his palm on the panel in the lift, speaks a number aloud; smiles weakly when Changmin turns to flash him a grin, all white, white teeth, and hopes for the best.
---
“Youngwoong.”
Youngwoong is barely out of the car when he hears the voice; he spins with startling dexterity, stretches out an arm to grip, twist…and finds himself up against the closed car door, arm twisted almost far enough up his back to hurt, the fingers on his other forearm close to bruising before he is released, too briefly, and then both his wrists are captured in a large hand, held tight.
“You’ve gotten better, Youngwoong…but still not fast enough.” The voice by his ear is low, dark, liquid, running rivulets down his spine like molten steel.
Youngwoong knows that voice. “Jongwoon.”
“Uh uh uh. It’s Yehsung to you, pretty.” The other man laughs softly. “Unless you’d prefer to be called Jaejoong.”
Youngwoong hisses, struggles, is pinned even more firmly for his efforts. “I stopped being Jaejoong a long time ago.”
“I know.” Yehsung’s tone changes, then, from an amused drawl to even, brisk, almost businesslike. “I see you got in.”
Youngwoong manages to bark a laugh. “So you sneak up behind me and shove me up against a car just to confirm what you already know?”
He can feel Yehsung’s smile on the nape of his neck. “We can never be too careful, Youngwoon-ah, you know that.” Youngwoong fights the involuntary shudder when Yehsung pulls them both back enough for his free hand to trail across Youngwoong’s chest, down and down and down to his naval, fingers pausing to toy with the piercing there through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Don’t touch me.”
Yehsung laughs again. “Oh, Youngwoong. Dear, sweet Youngwoong.” His fingers trail lower, then, ghost across Youngwoong’s painfully obvious erection, light, teasing friction that has Youngwoong arching into the contact. He attempts to stifle the groan that threatens to spill forth when Yehsung’s tongue trails down the line of his neck, and fails. He can feel Yehsung’s smirk when he draws his hand away, leans to breathe by his ear.
“You say one thing, Youngwoong…and your body says another.”
Youngwoong hisses, bucks. “Bastard.”
“Only us bastards rise high in this business. Or, at least, survive long enough to. Remember what your task is, and remember what you’ve been taught. Remember to…perform well.” Yehsung lets him go, then, and Youngwoong straightens, face burning, stares resolutely ahead and waits until he hears the whine of the motorcycle engine fade away in the distance before he can force himself to turn back around.
It takes him two more minutes for his hands to stop shaking long enough for him to smooth at his shirt, for his legs to feel strong enough to carry him through the main doors of Jungtech.
---
“Sit”, Changmin commands when they enter the office. Yunho blinks at the constant whirring and hum of machines, the banks upon banks of monitors, the papers and charts and readings strewn over almost every available surface. He shifts aside a stack of files carefully, sits in a high backed chair. Changmin is pointing and dragging a finger across a tabletop -that is really a screen, Yunho soon realizes, and starts to marvel over- and muttering to himself, about angles and altitudes and clarity and the occasional heated curse, some of which Yunho doesn’t recognize but understands the sentiment behind well enough.
“There!”
Changmin is straightening and beckoning Yunho closer. “Remember the rent we told you about, the one over the Lamask falls?”
Changmin makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat at Yunho’s blank gaze. “Never mind. We discovered a rent over the falls, to cut a long story short. A small ruptured seam in reality. Naturally, we enlarged it enough for us to send in a satellite of sorts to monitor what there is on the other side. And yes, Yunho, we’ve been through this before countless times, so don’t start, I know how you feel about messing with the fabric of reality, but we closed it right up. And we have the feed, right here.” Changmin frowns then, shoulders slumping slightly. “Though what we’ve seen so far has been extremely disappointing. The whole world seems destroyed and utterly ruined. We suspect a war, of sorts, something of vast proportions, to eradicate everything like that.”
Yunho moves over to look down at the screen, winces at the barren, flattened, grey landscape, the twisted contraptions of metal, the ashes and the smoke and the grit. “Turn it off, please.”
Changmin sighs, and the screen blinks and turns back to solid black with a touch of his forefinger. “We call it World 0. Apt, don’t you think?”
Yunho grunts noncommittally. Worlds, Changmin said. That would explain a lot. Different worlds. “What did you say about worlds, Changmin?”
Changmin frowns. “We’ve been through this before. Worlds, Yunho, alternate realities. For every action there are consequences. It could be small things, or huge, history altering events. In any case, every time someone does something, or chooses not to, reality branches out. Diverges, if you will, into different paths, different cycles, which would mean there are thousands, millions of alternate realities, some close enough to almost mirror each other, others wildly different. Imagine a primeval reality, if you will, a world without technology, or a civilization far more advanced than ours, or…” Changmin stops, trails off at Yunho’s stricken expression. “Is something wrong?”
“Changmin, I-”
“Sir? Sir, the files you wanted.”
“Oh? Oh, yes, set them there, thank you.”
Yunho bites down on his lip, hard, when Junsu, clad only in loose jeans, enters the room and places small metal chips on the table by Changmin’s hand. Yunho has to clap a hand over his mouth when Changmin smiles warmly down at the shorter boy before drawing him up into a deep, exquisitely prolonged kiss, all lips and tongue and soft satisfied sounds from Junsu, and Yunho wonders if he should cover his eyes, knows he’s scarred for life all the same, and clears his throat loudly.
Junsu pulls away, flushes, looks down. Changmin, much to Yunho’s indignation, is unfazed. “Thank you. I’ll see you after lunch.”
Yunho finds his voice once Junsu is safely out of the room. “W- was that Junsu?”
Changmin glances at him. “Xiah, he’s called now. But yes, that was Junsu.”
“He…works for you.”
“Yes. He does.” Changmin raises an eyebrow then, smirks. “I wouldn’t think you’d be unfamiliar to the concept, seeing as you have a staff of at least thirty.” Changmin shakes his head. “While I understand the attraction I’ll never know what you do with so many. They’re hardly toys, though I know of some individuals who’d beg to differ.”
Yunho shakes his head, mostly in a futile attempt to chase the image of Xiah and Changmin out of his head. “Listen, Changmin-”
“Ah, Changmin, there you are. I just ran into your boy in the hallway. Half naked. You and your kinks, you bastard, do you really have to bring them to work with you? Though, very pretty, I must say, even if he is really shy- ah. Mr Jung. Didn’t see you there.”
It’s Yoochun this time and Yunho reminds himself to close his mouth before he attracts flies, decides it’s best not to say anything, and settles for a grave nod.
Changmin doesn’t look up from sorting through a pile of charts. “Stop having designs on all my staff, Micky.”
Yooch- Micky effects a pout which is then replaced just a swiftly by a broad grin. “Well, this one’s really pretty.”
“You say that about all of them.”
“Oh, come now, Minnie-ah, you can share.” Micky winks, then turns to regard Yunho. “Nice to see your fashion sense has improved, Mr. Jung”, and then he is ducking back out the door, and Yunho can hear him whistling on his way back down the corridor.
“Don’t even say it.” Changmin’s is peering at another monitor this time. “We’ve been through this before, too. You know as well as I do why you haven’t fired him yet. He’s brilliant at what he does.”
Enough interruptions, Yunho thinks. “Changmin, listen!” Changmin turns around, looks only vaguely interested, more annoyed at being interrupted at his work. Yunho scowls, spreads his hands, tries again.
“I’m…not who you think I am.”
Outside, Youngwoong pauses, presses closer to the door.