The Night Kris and Zitao Went Out
Title: The Night Kris and Zitao Went Out
Pairing: Kris/Tao
Rating: PG
Summary: Kris and Tao go out for a night on the town.
Notes: Got bitten by the EXO bug... now you all must suffer with me.
The night Kris and Zitao went out platonically as really good best friends Zitao wore a black mesh shirt with hand-sewn sequins pre-doused in glitter bequeathed to him by a lovely Taiwanese fan and Kris styled his hair like Elvis just 'cause he could. "How hot am I?" Zitao asked seriously, but Kris was in the middle of downing his third Jameson shot so his face scrunched up like a pug and Zitao filed the look away in the section of his brain reserved for times Kris could be called ugly. On the occasional sleepless night Zitao would card through this special folder and chuckle to himself under the covers. He didn't know that Minseok could hear him.
"You're beyond saving," Kris said after swallowing and stalked back into the bathroom to slab more wax onto his pouf.
Zitao didn't say anything back because it took him a while to react to insults sometimes and because he suspected Kris got off the idea that people were afraid of him.
"Don't drink too much tonight," Kris said, back with sticky hands imprinting all over the shot glass he was refilling for Zitao, who hadn't finished his last one because of his delicate esophageal lining.
"I can take care of myself." Zitao tried not to sound too delighted.
Kris stared at him and started shaking his head. Zitao was entranced by how the hairy dung remained still in spite of the vigorous motions. When he glanced back at Kris' face, he noticed it looked vaguely pissed off.
"No, seriously," Kris said, in English. "Don't get fucked up."
"Okay," Zitao said, tossing back the shot.
There was a line at the club but because they were both so attractive the bouncer took one glance at them, unhooked the velvet rope and ushered them in. Zitao was sad he didn't have to flash his six-pack. When he told Kris, Kris yelled, "What?" and started pumping his fist to the music, which had drowned out most of Zitao's funny remark. It wasn't really funny to him, though, because he actually would have done it, but he thought this was something that might have made Kris laugh if he said it aloud. It was too bad the joke went wasted, he lamented sadly, following Kris to the bar.
Two shots later, he was talking to a hot chick. He couldn't really hear what she was saying because of the thumping of those dopeass club beats so he just nodded and smiled a lot and at what seemed like pivotal moments in her monologue furrowed his brow in respectful concentration. "Yeah, totally," he yelled. "Totally."
She was maybe a few years younger than him, with really nice long legs and pretty hair. He thought to himself, maybe this was the one.
To break the dry spell. To free him from his solitary exile in the sexual desert of his youth.
"I see you've met the virgin," Kris said, appearing out of nowhere on the girl's other side. He was smirking and his lips were kind of lopsided, but that could've been because Zitao's eyes were feeling kind of lopsided and things were getting a little blurry.
Not blurry enough for him to be oblivious to how Kris was being a cockblocking asshole. "Hey, I'm not--" he started to argue, because second base totally counted.
But the girl has already succumbed to Kris' sparkly-eyed, bishonen-esque good looks. Within minutes she had looped her arm around his and was laughing into the plunging neckline of his tight white t-shirt. Kris touched her hair gently and looked over at Zitao all intense and fake apologetic like, sorry, what can you do?
Zitao turned back to the bar, where the bartender flashed him a sympathetic smile and mixed him a sugary yet potent drink. "It's on the house," she said, reaching over to pat him on the arm. He wondered if she was coming on to him. "I'm not a virgin," he said again, and then collapsed over the counter.
When he came to, there was puke on his shirt. Kris' face came into focus, glittery like a dream. "Where am I?" Zitao mumbled, stretching out his arms and banging one against the taxi window and the other against Kris' forehead.
"We're going home," Kris said, in that tone that he used when he was about to be upset.
"You're glittery," Zitao noticed, lowering his arms.
"Yeah, well. My hair got caught on the stupid sequins on your shirt, and all that shit went on my face."
The pouf had indeed been depoufed, looking recently ravished. Mightily mauled.
"It's better this way," Zitao said, not thinking. "You're less perfect."
Kris turned his head, a piece of hair falling onto his cheek. They shared a meaningful look. Zitao was too wasted to ponder its significance, but he could sense that it was somehow significant. He filed this one away, too.
"You're a moron. I told you to not drink so much."
Kris heaved a deep sigh and slid closer so that Zitao could rest his head against his shoulder. Zitao found the crook that he liked, pressed into Kris' neck, and closed his eyes. It wasn't hard to doze off to the pulsing of Kris' heartbeat, oddly quickening.
Pairing: Kris/Tao
Rating: PG
Summary: Kris and Tao go out for a night on the town.
Notes: Got bitten by the EXO bug... now you all must suffer with me.
The night Kris and Zitao went out platonically as really good best friends Zitao wore a black mesh shirt with hand-sewn sequins pre-doused in glitter bequeathed to him by a lovely Taiwanese fan and Kris styled his hair like Elvis just 'cause he could. "How hot am I?" Zitao asked seriously, but Kris was in the middle of downing his third Jameson shot so his face scrunched up like a pug and Zitao filed the look away in the section of his brain reserved for times Kris could be called ugly. On the occasional sleepless night Zitao would card through this special folder and chuckle to himself under the covers. He didn't know that Minseok could hear him.
"You're beyond saving," Kris said after swallowing and stalked back into the bathroom to slab more wax onto his pouf.
Zitao didn't say anything back because it took him a while to react to insults sometimes and because he suspected Kris got off the idea that people were afraid of him.
"Don't drink too much tonight," Kris said, back with sticky hands imprinting all over the shot glass he was refilling for Zitao, who hadn't finished his last one because of his delicate esophageal lining.
"I can take care of myself." Zitao tried not to sound too delighted.
Kris stared at him and started shaking his head. Zitao was entranced by how the hairy dung remained still in spite of the vigorous motions. When he glanced back at Kris' face, he noticed it looked vaguely pissed off.
"No, seriously," Kris said, in English. "Don't get fucked up."
"Okay," Zitao said, tossing back the shot.
There was a line at the club but because they were both so attractive the bouncer took one glance at them, unhooked the velvet rope and ushered them in. Zitao was sad he didn't have to flash his six-pack. When he told Kris, Kris yelled, "What?" and started pumping his fist to the music, which had drowned out most of Zitao's funny remark. It wasn't really funny to him, though, because he actually would have done it, but he thought this was something that might have made Kris laugh if he said it aloud. It was too bad the joke went wasted, he lamented sadly, following Kris to the bar.
Two shots later, he was talking to a hot chick. He couldn't really hear what she was saying because of the thumping of those dopeass club beats so he just nodded and smiled a lot and at what seemed like pivotal moments in her monologue furrowed his brow in respectful concentration. "Yeah, totally," he yelled. "Totally."
She was maybe a few years younger than him, with really nice long legs and pretty hair. He thought to himself, maybe this was the one.
To break the dry spell. To free him from his solitary exile in the sexual desert of his youth.
"I see you've met the virgin," Kris said, appearing out of nowhere on the girl's other side. He was smirking and his lips were kind of lopsided, but that could've been because Zitao's eyes were feeling kind of lopsided and things were getting a little blurry.
Not blurry enough for him to be oblivious to how Kris was being a cockblocking asshole. "Hey, I'm not--" he started to argue, because second base totally counted.
But the girl has already succumbed to Kris' sparkly-eyed, bishonen-esque good looks. Within minutes she had looped her arm around his and was laughing into the plunging neckline of his tight white t-shirt. Kris touched her hair gently and looked over at Zitao all intense and fake apologetic like, sorry, what can you do?
Zitao turned back to the bar, where the bartender flashed him a sympathetic smile and mixed him a sugary yet potent drink. "It's on the house," she said, reaching over to pat him on the arm. He wondered if she was coming on to him. "I'm not a virgin," he said again, and then collapsed over the counter.
When he came to, there was puke on his shirt. Kris' face came into focus, glittery like a dream. "Where am I?" Zitao mumbled, stretching out his arms and banging one against the taxi window and the other against Kris' forehead.
"We're going home," Kris said, in that tone that he used when he was about to be upset.
"You're glittery," Zitao noticed, lowering his arms.
"Yeah, well. My hair got caught on the stupid sequins on your shirt, and all that shit went on my face."
The pouf had indeed been depoufed, looking recently ravished. Mightily mauled.
"It's better this way," Zitao said, not thinking. "You're less perfect."
Kris turned his head, a piece of hair falling onto his cheek. They shared a meaningful look. Zitao was too wasted to ponder its significance, but he could sense that it was somehow significant. He filed this one away, too.
"You're a moron. I told you to not drink so much."
Kris heaved a deep sigh and slid closer so that Zitao could rest his head against his shoulder. Zitao found the crook that he liked, pressed into Kris' neck, and closed his eyes. It wasn't hard to doze off to the pulsing of Kris' heartbeat, oddly quickening.