Hunt
Genre: attempted fluff
Length: one-shot
Word count: 1,728
Rating: G
Pairing: Soulmate aka Jaechun
A/N: A birthday present to dear blocassimere ^_____^ I actually wrote it last year when Jaejoong was very actively asking for a psychotic role but didn't get to finish it. It turned out to be rather weird though ^^;;; Happy birthday, dear blo~!
Hunt
A figure clad completely in black walked on the street and stopped in front of a house. He observed the house carefully. It was the house of his target.
The front porch was empty and quiet. As expected, the car of his prey was in.
He walked in and touched the hood of the car, still warm, but not too hot. His prey must have been home for quite a while now; he either might be taking a shower, if not watching TV.
Stealthily, he walked to the front of the door and pressed his ears against the door. No TV sound. He listened carefully, ears twitching while he tried to capture even the most obscure sound and analysed it in his brain. It didn’t seem like his prey was in the living room.
Trusting his instinct, he opened the door slowly.
True enough, his prey wasn’t in the living room. Good. He took out a glass bottle filled with white liquid from his jacket, placed it on the living room table, and snuck out as quietly as a shadow.
He watched his prey intently as the latter read a magazine while getting his hair done. His prey didn’t seem to be any different from the day before. Curious. Could it be that his potion hadn’t worked?
He stood up and walked behind his prey, watching him from the mirror, searching for any tell-tale sign of any unusual condition.
His prey looked up from his magazine.
They locked gazes across the mirror, neither said anything.
After a while, he smiled. His prey smiled too, though with numerous questions in his eyes.
They were having a photo shoot. He watched in awe as his prey smiled, scowled, pouted, and put on funny faces flawlessly as per order of the director, just as expected of his talented prey.
But, aha! He caught his prey yawning!
That’s it, it’s time to launch plan B.
Very carefully, he walked over to the table and took his prey’s bag. Very inconspicuously, he searched the bag for his prey’s iPod and quickly shoved it inside his hoodie. And then, he went back to the table and, very naturally, attached his prey’s iPod to his iPad.
By the time he was called up to do his shoot, he had managed to fill his prey’s iPod with death threats and warnings. He smirked. His prey should know better to do as he says now.
Junsu walked in on Jaejoong peering into the dressing room. Standing unnoticed behind Jaejoong, he -too- peered into the room.
There was nothing extraordinary in the room. Yoochun was on the sofa, dozing off in a sitting position, and their makeup artists were sitting together at the back, chatting quietly.
“What’re you doing?” Junsu asked, walking past a bloody shocked Jaejoong and entering the dressing room. “Why don’t you come in?”
Jaejoong looked like he was having spasm, or he was frantically trying to tell him something, Junsu wasn’t exactly sure. He tilted his head in confusion. Yoochun woke up from his sleep and rubbed his eyes.
“Hyung? What’re you doing?” Yoochun asked blearily.
“Nothing,” Jaejoong said, entering the room casually while passing Junsu a murderous glare.
Junsu blinked, completely nonplussed. He shrugged, dismissing it as one of those soulmate-things that he really couldn’t fathom until now.
On Sunday evening, Jaejoong dropped by the studio to pen down a piece of melody that had been plaguing his brain for several days. When he arrived, he saw Yoochun’s car parked outside and he sighed. True enough, he found Yoochun already inside the studio, sitting on the piano, composing a song.
“How long have you been here?” Jaejoong threw his body on the sofa behind the piano and rested his chin on the armrest to stare at Yoochun’s back.
“Morning.”
“Today morning, or yesterday?”
“Uhm…”
Jaejoong sighed inwardly.
He stood up, walked behind Yoochun, wrapped his arms around the younger man’s armpit, heaved him up and dragged him to the sofa, ignoring Yoochun’s surprised gasp.
“Hyung…” Yoochun whined.
Jaejoong made Yoochun lay on the sofa, with his legs propped up the arm rest and his back half leaning against Jaejoong’s own chest. With deft fingers, he began massaging the tight muscles across Yoochun’s shoulder blades.
Yoochun groaned and ceased all forms of resistance. His hands dropped to his sides and his head tilted upwards as Jaejoong’s thumb kneaded the soreness out of his back.
“When was the last time you had a full night sleep?”
“Aahhh…” was Yoochun’s only answer.
“Chun-ah,” Jaejoong prodded, pressing in harder than necessary.
“Aaaaahhh, I don’t know…” Yoochun groaned with eyes shut.
Jaejoong sighed.
The next day, there was a small commotion in the studio. The key to the piano had gone missing. It was Junsu who first raised the alarm; he had come to the studio to compose a song but the piano was locked down and the key was not in the usual place.
He called Yoochun, who had identified himself as the last person who used the studio, but didn’t remember ever locking the piano down. Yoochun came to the studio and combed the place down with Junsu.
“How could you not remember locking the piano?” Junsu asked from below the sound mixer. “Were you sleepwalking??”
“No, I wasn’t,” Yoochun insisted while poking and searching the side seam of the sofa while shining them with torchlight from his phone. “And I didn’t lock it, I swear! Ask Jaejoong-hyung if you don’t trust m….”
Yoochun’s words trailed off as his mind caught on to something, something illuminating.
Yoochun sent Junsu off the studio, promising him that tomorrow the key would suddenly appear and they would be able to use the piano again, he swore on it. Junsu gave him a suspicious look, but left with a little grumble.
When Junsu left, Yoochun locked the doors, wiped clean all of his presence away from the studio, turned off the lights, and waited.
He parked his car outside the studio, satisfied that the windows of the building were dark. He walked into the building, climbed the stairs up to the second floor and inserted the key into their studio.
He flipped the light switch. As he walked towards the piano, his hands dipped into his pocket and produced a key, which jingled slightly. The next thing he knew, someone had jumped on him and he was thrown and pinned onto the wall.
Gasping and utterly in shock, he sputtered in protest when he knew what -or who- had attacked him.
“Yoochun!!” Jaejoong yelled with shaky voice, “What the hell?!?!?!”
Yoochun smirked, lower arm still pressing against Jaejoong’s collarbones and hand still gripping the latter’s upper arm.
“You scared the bloody shit out of me,” Jaejoong whimpered, feeling like his lifespan had just been cut short by 10 years. His hand flew to his chest, checking if his heart was still inside his ribcage and not out there on the floor.
“Isn’t this your purpose?” Yoochun asked.
“What?” Jaejoong gasped to regain his breath.
Yoochun brought his face closer to the elder, “Isn’t this what you want? Me, catching you red-handed, giving you no possible escape route?”
“What are you talking about?” Jaejoong turned his head sideways, avoiding Yoochun’s eyes.
“Don’t lie, hyung. I know what you’ve been doing these past few weeks,” Yoochun whispered; he used his hand to turn Jaejoong’s face back to towards him and locked their gazes. “Are you having fun playing this thief-and-detective game with me?”
A cold sweat dripped down Jaejoong’s temple.
“You might think you’re being discreet, but I’ve been watching you,” Yoochun lowered his voice to a low and dangerous -and yet so seductive- growl, “watching me.”
Jaejoong gulped involuntarily, his breath caught in his throat.
“You’ve been very cold towards everyone who tried to talk to me during my break time. You gave even dirtier look to people who woke me up from my nap. You stole my iPod and filled it with aromatherapy and soothing music. You tried to keep me off any hardback and backless chairs and always pushed me to sit on sofas before giving me relaxing massages.”
Jaejoong dropped his gaze, guilt painted across his face.
“Do you deny it?”
“…No,” Jaejoong admitted with a pout.
Yoochun snorted in triumph. “I knew it. Wait…did you also sneak into my house and leave that bottle of milk on my table?”
Jaejoong snapped his head up and glared, but ended up lowering his head and sighing, “…Yes. I thought it'd help you sleep better at night.”
Yoochun fought hard not to smile, though he couldn’t keep the twinkle off his eyes. “Are you having fun trying to make me sleep more?”
Jaejoong huffed, annoyed. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
“You can just talk to me, you know.”
“You don’t listen to me,” Jaejoong whined. “You never do.”
“I always listen to you,” Yoochun protested.
“Not when it comes to resting you don’t,” Jaejoong challenged, his pout getting more prominent. “You’ve just finished your drama shooting, but instead of taking a break you’re burning midnight oil composing songs.”
“I haven’t been able to get a good night sleep at night,” Yoochun sighed, pulling his arm off Jaejoong’s chest and wrapped it around Jaejoong instead, leaning against him for support. Jaejoong automatically wound his arms back around the younger man.
“Do you think I haven’t noticed that,” Jaejoong retorted. “Why do you think I’m doing all these?”
“I don’t know, I thought it has something to do with you and that psychotic role you’ve been dying to get, and you got carried away acting it out in real life.”
“…Well, that too…” Jaejoong admitted with small voice.
“Actually,” Yoochun said with a gleam in his eyes, “I think I know a way to make me sleep better.”
With that, Yoochun pulled Jaejoong to the sofa, took both of their shoes off, laid both of them down and snuggled up the elder.
“Like this,” Yoochun mumbled contentedly, his head resting on the crook of his Jaejoong’s arm and shoulder. “I always sleep better like this.”
There were some unexpected turns of events, but Jaejoong still ended up with his prey in his arms. Jaejoong gave his prey a soft peck on his forehead and drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.
Who knew hunting could be so much fun?
- FIN -
Length: one-shot
Word count: 1,728
Rating: G
Pairing: Soulmate aka Jaechun
A/N: A birthday present to dear blocassimere ^_____^ I actually wrote it last year when Jaejoong was very actively asking for a psychotic role but didn't get to finish it. It turned out to be rather weird though ^^;;; Happy birthday, dear blo~!
Hunt
A figure clad completely in black walked on the street and stopped in front of a house. He observed the house carefully. It was the house of his target.
The front porch was empty and quiet. As expected, the car of his prey was in.
He walked in and touched the hood of the car, still warm, but not too hot. His prey must have been home for quite a while now; he either might be taking a shower, if not watching TV.
Stealthily, he walked to the front of the door and pressed his ears against the door. No TV sound. He listened carefully, ears twitching while he tried to capture even the most obscure sound and analysed it in his brain. It didn’t seem like his prey was in the living room.
Trusting his instinct, he opened the door slowly.
True enough, his prey wasn’t in the living room. Good. He took out a glass bottle filled with white liquid from his jacket, placed it on the living room table, and snuck out as quietly as a shadow.
He watched his prey intently as the latter read a magazine while getting his hair done. His prey didn’t seem to be any different from the day before. Curious. Could it be that his potion hadn’t worked?
He stood up and walked behind his prey, watching him from the mirror, searching for any tell-tale sign of any unusual condition.
His prey looked up from his magazine.
They locked gazes across the mirror, neither said anything.
After a while, he smiled. His prey smiled too, though with numerous questions in his eyes.
They were having a photo shoot. He watched in awe as his prey smiled, scowled, pouted, and put on funny faces flawlessly as per order of the director, just as expected of his talented prey.
But, aha! He caught his prey yawning!
That’s it, it’s time to launch plan B.
Very carefully, he walked over to the table and took his prey’s bag. Very inconspicuously, he searched the bag for his prey’s iPod and quickly shoved it inside his hoodie. And then, he went back to the table and, very naturally, attached his prey’s iPod to his iPad.
By the time he was called up to do his shoot, he had managed to fill his prey’s iPod with death threats and warnings. He smirked. His prey should know better to do as he says now.
Junsu walked in on Jaejoong peering into the dressing room. Standing unnoticed behind Jaejoong, he -too- peered into the room.
There was nothing extraordinary in the room. Yoochun was on the sofa, dozing off in a sitting position, and their makeup artists were sitting together at the back, chatting quietly.
“What’re you doing?” Junsu asked, walking past a bloody shocked Jaejoong and entering the dressing room. “Why don’t you come in?”
Jaejoong looked like he was having spasm, or he was frantically trying to tell him something, Junsu wasn’t exactly sure. He tilted his head in confusion. Yoochun woke up from his sleep and rubbed his eyes.
“Hyung? What’re you doing?” Yoochun asked blearily.
“Nothing,” Jaejoong said, entering the room casually while passing Junsu a murderous glare.
Junsu blinked, completely nonplussed. He shrugged, dismissing it as one of those soulmate-things that he really couldn’t fathom until now.
On Sunday evening, Jaejoong dropped by the studio to pen down a piece of melody that had been plaguing his brain for several days. When he arrived, he saw Yoochun’s car parked outside and he sighed. True enough, he found Yoochun already inside the studio, sitting on the piano, composing a song.
“How long have you been here?” Jaejoong threw his body on the sofa behind the piano and rested his chin on the armrest to stare at Yoochun’s back.
“Morning.”
“Today morning, or yesterday?”
“Uhm…”
Jaejoong sighed inwardly.
He stood up, walked behind Yoochun, wrapped his arms around the younger man’s armpit, heaved him up and dragged him to the sofa, ignoring Yoochun’s surprised gasp.
“Hyung…” Yoochun whined.
Jaejoong made Yoochun lay on the sofa, with his legs propped up the arm rest and his back half leaning against Jaejoong’s own chest. With deft fingers, he began massaging the tight muscles across Yoochun’s shoulder blades.
Yoochun groaned and ceased all forms of resistance. His hands dropped to his sides and his head tilted upwards as Jaejoong’s thumb kneaded the soreness out of his back.
“When was the last time you had a full night sleep?”
“Aahhh…” was Yoochun’s only answer.
“Chun-ah,” Jaejoong prodded, pressing in harder than necessary.
“Aaaaahhh, I don’t know…” Yoochun groaned with eyes shut.
Jaejoong sighed.
The next day, there was a small commotion in the studio. The key to the piano had gone missing. It was Junsu who first raised the alarm; he had come to the studio to compose a song but the piano was locked down and the key was not in the usual place.
He called Yoochun, who had identified himself as the last person who used the studio, but didn’t remember ever locking the piano down. Yoochun came to the studio and combed the place down with Junsu.
“How could you not remember locking the piano?” Junsu asked from below the sound mixer. “Were you sleepwalking??”
“No, I wasn’t,” Yoochun insisted while poking and searching the side seam of the sofa while shining them with torchlight from his phone. “And I didn’t lock it, I swear! Ask Jaejoong-hyung if you don’t trust m….”
Yoochun’s words trailed off as his mind caught on to something, something illuminating.
Yoochun sent Junsu off the studio, promising him that tomorrow the key would suddenly appear and they would be able to use the piano again, he swore on it. Junsu gave him a suspicious look, but left with a little grumble.
When Junsu left, Yoochun locked the doors, wiped clean all of his presence away from the studio, turned off the lights, and waited.
He parked his car outside the studio, satisfied that the windows of the building were dark. He walked into the building, climbed the stairs up to the second floor and inserted the key into their studio.
He flipped the light switch. As he walked towards the piano, his hands dipped into his pocket and produced a key, which jingled slightly. The next thing he knew, someone had jumped on him and he was thrown and pinned onto the wall.
Gasping and utterly in shock, he sputtered in protest when he knew what -or who- had attacked him.
“Yoochun!!” Jaejoong yelled with shaky voice, “What the hell?!?!?!”
Yoochun smirked, lower arm still pressing against Jaejoong’s collarbones and hand still gripping the latter’s upper arm.
“You scared the bloody shit out of me,” Jaejoong whimpered, feeling like his lifespan had just been cut short by 10 years. His hand flew to his chest, checking if his heart was still inside his ribcage and not out there on the floor.
“Isn’t this your purpose?” Yoochun asked.
“What?” Jaejoong gasped to regain his breath.
Yoochun brought his face closer to the elder, “Isn’t this what you want? Me, catching you red-handed, giving you no possible escape route?”
“What are you talking about?” Jaejoong turned his head sideways, avoiding Yoochun’s eyes.
“Don’t lie, hyung. I know what you’ve been doing these past few weeks,” Yoochun whispered; he used his hand to turn Jaejoong’s face back to towards him and locked their gazes. “Are you having fun playing this thief-and-detective game with me?”
A cold sweat dripped down Jaejoong’s temple.
“You might think you’re being discreet, but I’ve been watching you,” Yoochun lowered his voice to a low and dangerous -and yet so seductive- growl, “watching me.”
Jaejoong gulped involuntarily, his breath caught in his throat.
“You’ve been very cold towards everyone who tried to talk to me during my break time. You gave even dirtier look to people who woke me up from my nap. You stole my iPod and filled it with aromatherapy and soothing music. You tried to keep me off any hardback and backless chairs and always pushed me to sit on sofas before giving me relaxing massages.”
Jaejoong dropped his gaze, guilt painted across his face.
“Do you deny it?”
“…No,” Jaejoong admitted with a pout.
Yoochun snorted in triumph. “I knew it. Wait…did you also sneak into my house and leave that bottle of milk on my table?”
Jaejoong snapped his head up and glared, but ended up lowering his head and sighing, “…Yes. I thought it'd help you sleep better at night.”
Yoochun fought hard not to smile, though he couldn’t keep the twinkle off his eyes. “Are you having fun trying to make me sleep more?”
Jaejoong huffed, annoyed. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
“You can just talk to me, you know.”
“You don’t listen to me,” Jaejoong whined. “You never do.”
“I always listen to you,” Yoochun protested.
“Not when it comes to resting you don’t,” Jaejoong challenged, his pout getting more prominent. “You’ve just finished your drama shooting, but instead of taking a break you’re burning midnight oil composing songs.”
“I haven’t been able to get a good night sleep at night,” Yoochun sighed, pulling his arm off Jaejoong’s chest and wrapped it around Jaejoong instead, leaning against him for support. Jaejoong automatically wound his arms back around the younger man.
“Do you think I haven’t noticed that,” Jaejoong retorted. “Why do you think I’m doing all these?”
“I don’t know, I thought it has something to do with you and that psychotic role you’ve been dying to get, and you got carried away acting it out in real life.”
“…Well, that too…” Jaejoong admitted with small voice.
“Actually,” Yoochun said with a gleam in his eyes, “I think I know a way to make me sleep better.”
With that, Yoochun pulled Jaejoong to the sofa, took both of their shoes off, laid both of them down and snuggled up the elder.
“Like this,” Yoochun mumbled contentedly, his head resting on the crook of his Jaejoong’s arm and shoulder. “I always sleep better like this.”
There were some unexpected turns of events, but Jaejoong still ended up with his prey in his arms. Jaejoong gave his prey a soft peck on his forehead and drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.
Who knew hunting could be so much fun?
- FIN -