Wet Dream 1/6
Title: Wet Dream 1/6
Pairing: Micky/Hero (minor pairings: implied Yunho/Hero, implied Yoochun/Junsu)
Rating: Eventually NC-17 (PG-13 for this part)
Disclaimer: Another story that proves once again that they aren't mine.
Summary: Micky is the best at cleaning up other people's messes. He's not sure what to do when faced with something only in his dreams.
A/N: This fic is for rabanitchas who is the one who gave me the plot idea for it.
Poster credit goes to chunsangel once again. It's gorgeous!
Part 1: Close Encounter
Micky slipped quietly through the many rooms of one of Jung Yunho’s many safe houses, getting a feel for the layout. He’d received an official tour from Yunho’s main servant, Shim Changmin, but exploring on his own always netted him better results. Those who didn’t know him, or talked of him in whispers, would think that he was scoping the place out to rob it. He was the only one there, after all, and looked highly suspicious wearing nothing but black. It wasn’t everyday that one was given free reign of a crime boss’s mansion.
A lucrative deposit, paid mainly for Micky’s silence, already warmed his bank account, and if things went well, a higher amount would be deposited every two weeks.
Micky was known for his silence as well as his ability to clean up messes.
So far, he was confused. Most people paid him to clean up blood, entrails or drugs. He was a ghost and paid for his silence. Sometimes he feared for his life, because of everything he knew, but that same knowledge kept him protected. If he was destroyed, someone would be upset that the only man trusted to keep his mouth shut about what he had seen and heard was suddenly dead.
Nothing in this safe house was out of place. Micky couldn’t smell stale blood, urine, drugs or dead body stench. All the furniture was high-end leather and solid wood. Top-of-the-line appliances gleamed silver in the kitchen. Each room (six of them) had an en suite bathroom, walk-in closet and a king-sized bed.
The most interesting thing in the house was the aquarium. Micky had never seen one so large outside of a zoo or an aquatic center. It stretched floor to ceiling in the main room, and then tunnels and tunnels connected to other rooms. The bottom of the tanks in the main rooms looked like a coral reef, and Micky wondered how long it’d taken to construct the entire structure.
Shim Changmin had given him a layout and map of the aquarium. It was twice the cubic meters of the house.
As Micky wandered through the house, he wondered what was in a tank so large. Maybe a dolphin, or a shark. So far, he hadn’t seen any signs of even the smallest fish.
When asked, all Shim Changmin said about it was, “You saw nothing.”
And Micky agreed. He was still alive because he saw and heard nothing.
The majority of Micky’s time over the next two weeks was spent cleaning the aquarium. He kept the glass free of streaks (easy since he was the only one in the apartment). There were metal doors that could be shut, allowing him to drain just a section of the tank and clean it, without having to do it all at once. Each section had a scheduled cleaning time every week, so it was on a cycle. Within two months, he would have cleaned every section once.
Shim Changmin had left him with specific instructions on pH balances and salt content; how and what to add to the water; and checking the temperature everyday and monitoring it in a log.
But by far the strangest thing was what was titled “The Feeding Schedule.” Crab, lobster, various white fish, salmon, trout, tuna, mussels, snails. Each day had a menu and a particular place and time to drop the seafood. The food, as well as food for Micky, was delivered every day to the house by a van marked “Lee Minho’s Fresh Seafood.” Micky searched the company and was only mildly surprised that it was owned by Jung Yunho.
The food disappeared from the waters, so even though Micky never saw anything, something was alive in the tank.
*** < OS<
A month into the schedule, Micky saw something move in the placid waters. He thought it was a fin, but upon closer inspection, it was a crab, scrambling along the coral bottom. It was a king crab that Micky had dropped into the tank almost four days ago. Stubborn thing. He wondered how it managed to stay alive when everything else had died.
Movement flashed over his vision again, and he twisted his head quickly, trying to catch a glimpse of what was in the tank. This time, he definitely saw a turquoise, sparkling tail fin, but it darted out of sight before Micky could see more.
The next week, Jung Yunho called him.
Micky never, ever talked to the people who hired him.
“Everything okay?” Yunho asked.
“Yes,” Micky replied cautiously. “Although there is a king crab crawling around the bottom of the aquarium that has yet to be devoured. I named him Changmin because he’s stubborn and stares at me with beady eyes.”
Yunho laughed. “Fitting. The man has strong claws, too.
“I’m surprised, because according to the food list, king crab is a favorite.”
“Yes, but sometimes my beauty gets lonely.”
Micky wanted to ask, but by the tone of his voice Yunho was testing him. For once, Micky told the truth. “I can honestly say that I have yet to see your beauty.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
“Fish are smart,” Micky said. “I’m sure he … he or she …”
“He.”
“I’m sure he has learned the routine of cleaning and feeding and doesn’t want to be seen.”
“More than likely. He is only used to Changmin and me. Thank you for taking care of him. I hate being away from him for so long. I will contact you again in a couple weeks and see if he has allowed you a glimpse of his beauty.”
Jung Yunho hung up.
Micky stared at his phone for a little while, and then stared at the wall of water in the main room. Micky did not want to know what Jung Yunho’s water bill was. With a sigh, he went to the kitchen, but kept his eyes on the water.
Changmin the Crab crawled around the tunnel above the kitchen.
*** < OS<
Micky stayed up at night. He had random bouts of nightmares over things he’d seen and done, and then irregular bouts of insomnia. This was one of those irregular times and his brain fogged over from the lack of proper sleep. Still, he continued cleaning the tank and feeding whatever was in it as he was supposed to.
His mother had bought him a fish once, but Micky hated the cleaning. He’d always been so meticulous and so clean. His mother figured a fish was better than a dog or a cat, but every time the thing pooped, Micky had to clean its bowl. That’s probably what killed it.
Doctors tried to diagnose him with OCD, but when asked, Micky would reply, “I like things clean.” He never knew, as a kid scrubbing the sides of that fish bowl, that he’d be using his skills to clean up after mob bosses and trigger happy thugs.
Micky spent most of the insomnia hours wandering the dark halls. There were coral and algae in the tank that glowed slightly, giving the rooms a bluish tinge, and if Micky held his breath, it almost felt like he was underwater.
Underwater.
Micky hated water. He loved eating the things that came out of it, but besides a shower and a hot tub with pretty boys, he wasn’t going to voluntarily get in water.
The only reason he agreed to this is because he had been told he didn’t actually have to go into the water. He had been told, quite forcefully and quite often by Shim Changmin, that he was not allowed to go in the water. When he cleaned some of the areas, he wasn’t able to drain the water completely, because of the corals and anemones, but then the water only came up to his knees at its deepest.
As he stared at the swaying kelp, Micky wished there were fish in the tank to stare at. Something besides the damn crab.
He leaned his forehead on the cool glass and shut his eyes. He vaguely cared that he’d have to wipe the streak off the glass in the morning. With eyes half shut, his body swayed in time to the plants.
Pale, almost white skin dashed through the edge of his vision.
Micky’s eyes shot open and sure enough, two bare feet twisted and spun out of his line of sight. Panicked, Micky followed them, rushing from room to room, but he only caught sight of them once more in the master bedroom, up at the top of the water, and then they were gone, the water gurgling like someone had just climbed out of the tank. Cursing, Micky tore through the rooms again, to the door that led him to the hidden catwalks and walkways used to access the tank. He remembered where the feet had disappeared and ran until he couldn’t run anymore.
Stopping, he peered through the water, barely discerning the bed and furniture of the master bedroom. This is where … no it had been-
Micky touched the wall next to his hand. This catwalk ended at this wall, and the wall stretched over the tank, making part of the tank inaccessible. Unusual. No other part of the tank was like that.
Micky knocked on the wall, and heard a thwump back. It was hallow behind this wall.
What was on the other side of it?
The only way to find out was to go into the tank. Into the water.
Micky cursed.
Someone was in Jung Yunho’s house, and Jung Yunho’s prized possession was whatever was living in this gigantic fish tank.
With a deep breath, Micky put his bare foot into the water. It was warm, the right temperature of the subtropical climates on the equator. He swallowed nervously, and then decided that whatever was in this tank could probably fend for itself since it had a habit of eating twenty pound fish and crabs with claws. Unless someone had a harpoon, or a dart with a tranquilizer in it.
Bodyguard was not a role Micky played well. He guarded secrets, not people. But this was important. Someone was in the house. It wasn’t just this fish’s life that was at stake. His was, too.
Determined, Micky shucked off his sweat pants, leaving him in tight boxer-shorts. He sat on the catwalk and put his legs in the water. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed off and sank, fingers barely keep hold of the metal edge. The tank was almost twelve feet deep right here. Using the edge, Micky scooted over the abnormal wall. He put his hand under it and felt nothing but more metal. It stretched about six feet away from walkway.
With one more pep talk, Micky tread water and did his best to follow it. He kept his breathing even. Being in water was not a great place for a panic attack. About two feet from the corner of the wall, Micky’s hand curled around an edge and he gripped it, face pressed against the wall, glad to have something to cling to.
Something grabbed his leg and Micky shouted out and water filled his mouth and lungs and he was pulled under and over and flailing and kicking something dragged him, and panic cut off his breathing and well, that was probably the water, and hot, moist air hit his skin and his hands were on pure white sand and he coughed, and spit up water.
A firm hand rolled him over and Micky shut his eyes tightly, trying to clear them of salt water. Gentle fingers rubbed his eyelids, and a soothing melody in a language Micky had never heard echoed off the walls.
His eyes shot open, and he sat up with a shout and the something or other held him steady while he hacked up more water.
Strong arms. Pale skin.
Green skin.
Gasping, Micky dared look up from the naked skin, into turquoise eyes and the most beautiful face staring at him in concern, head tilted to the side, rose colored lips pushed into a pout.
“Oh fuck,” Micky whispered.
The beautiful man smiled and shook his head.
Something turquoise flipped into his vision and Micky looked at the man’s body.
The creature’s body.
His mind refused to believe it, but still he stared at the tiny waist where pale green skin turned to deep green scales. Light shimmered off the scales, and Micky licked his dry lips, gaze following the curve of muscles along the thick tail that ended in a forked fin that flipped casually in the water in the tank.
Micky swore again, and leaned back into a strong chest and muscled arms.
He died. In the water.
Whoever had broken in had dragged him under the surface and now he was dead.
Part 2: Mythical Dream
.
Pairing: Micky/Hero (minor pairings: implied Yunho/Hero, implied Yoochun/Junsu)
Rating: Eventually NC-17 (PG-13 for this part)
Disclaimer: Another story that proves once again that they aren't mine.
Summary: Micky is the best at cleaning up other people's messes. He's not sure what to do when faced with something only in his dreams.
A/N: This fic is for rabanitchas who is the one who gave me the plot idea for it.
Poster credit goes to chunsangel once again. It's gorgeous!
Part 1: Close Encounter
Micky slipped quietly through the many rooms of one of Jung Yunho’s many safe houses, getting a feel for the layout. He’d received an official tour from Yunho’s main servant, Shim Changmin, but exploring on his own always netted him better results. Those who didn’t know him, or talked of him in whispers, would think that he was scoping the place out to rob it. He was the only one there, after all, and looked highly suspicious wearing nothing but black. It wasn’t everyday that one was given free reign of a crime boss’s mansion.
A lucrative deposit, paid mainly for Micky’s silence, already warmed his bank account, and if things went well, a higher amount would be deposited every two weeks.
Micky was known for his silence as well as his ability to clean up messes.
So far, he was confused. Most people paid him to clean up blood, entrails or drugs. He was a ghost and paid for his silence. Sometimes he feared for his life, because of everything he knew, but that same knowledge kept him protected. If he was destroyed, someone would be upset that the only man trusted to keep his mouth shut about what he had seen and heard was suddenly dead.
Nothing in this safe house was out of place. Micky couldn’t smell stale blood, urine, drugs or dead body stench. All the furniture was high-end leather and solid wood. Top-of-the-line appliances gleamed silver in the kitchen. Each room (six of them) had an en suite bathroom, walk-in closet and a king-sized bed.
The most interesting thing in the house was the aquarium. Micky had never seen one so large outside of a zoo or an aquatic center. It stretched floor to ceiling in the main room, and then tunnels and tunnels connected to other rooms. The bottom of the tanks in the main rooms looked like a coral reef, and Micky wondered how long it’d taken to construct the entire structure.
Shim Changmin had given him a layout and map of the aquarium. It was twice the cubic meters of the house.
As Micky wandered through the house, he wondered what was in a tank so large. Maybe a dolphin, or a shark. So far, he hadn’t seen any signs of even the smallest fish.
When asked, all Shim Changmin said about it was, “You saw nothing.”
And Micky agreed. He was still alive because he saw and heard nothing.
The majority of Micky’s time over the next two weeks was spent cleaning the aquarium. He kept the glass free of streaks (easy since he was the only one in the apartment). There were metal doors that could be shut, allowing him to drain just a section of the tank and clean it, without having to do it all at once. Each section had a scheduled cleaning time every week, so it was on a cycle. Within two months, he would have cleaned every section once.
Shim Changmin had left him with specific instructions on pH balances and salt content; how and what to add to the water; and checking the temperature everyday and monitoring it in a log.
But by far the strangest thing was what was titled “The Feeding Schedule.” Crab, lobster, various white fish, salmon, trout, tuna, mussels, snails. Each day had a menu and a particular place and time to drop the seafood. The food, as well as food for Micky, was delivered every day to the house by a van marked “Lee Minho’s Fresh Seafood.” Micky searched the company and was only mildly surprised that it was owned by Jung Yunho.
The food disappeared from the waters, so even though Micky never saw anything, something was alive in the tank.
*** < OS<
A month into the schedule, Micky saw something move in the placid waters. He thought it was a fin, but upon closer inspection, it was a crab, scrambling along the coral bottom. It was a king crab that Micky had dropped into the tank almost four days ago. Stubborn thing. He wondered how it managed to stay alive when everything else had died.
Movement flashed over his vision again, and he twisted his head quickly, trying to catch a glimpse of what was in the tank. This time, he definitely saw a turquoise, sparkling tail fin, but it darted out of sight before Micky could see more.
The next week, Jung Yunho called him.
Micky never, ever talked to the people who hired him.
“Everything okay?” Yunho asked.
“Yes,” Micky replied cautiously. “Although there is a king crab crawling around the bottom of the aquarium that has yet to be devoured. I named him Changmin because he’s stubborn and stares at me with beady eyes.”
Yunho laughed. “Fitting. The man has strong claws, too.
“I’m surprised, because according to the food list, king crab is a favorite.”
“Yes, but sometimes my beauty gets lonely.”
Micky wanted to ask, but by the tone of his voice Yunho was testing him. For once, Micky told the truth. “I can honestly say that I have yet to see your beauty.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
“Fish are smart,” Micky said. “I’m sure he … he or she …”
“He.”
“I’m sure he has learned the routine of cleaning and feeding and doesn’t want to be seen.”
“More than likely. He is only used to Changmin and me. Thank you for taking care of him. I hate being away from him for so long. I will contact you again in a couple weeks and see if he has allowed you a glimpse of his beauty.”
Jung Yunho hung up.
Micky stared at his phone for a little while, and then stared at the wall of water in the main room. Micky did not want to know what Jung Yunho’s water bill was. With a sigh, he went to the kitchen, but kept his eyes on the water.
Changmin the Crab crawled around the tunnel above the kitchen.
*** < OS<
Micky stayed up at night. He had random bouts of nightmares over things he’d seen and done, and then irregular bouts of insomnia. This was one of those irregular times and his brain fogged over from the lack of proper sleep. Still, he continued cleaning the tank and feeding whatever was in it as he was supposed to.
His mother had bought him a fish once, but Micky hated the cleaning. He’d always been so meticulous and so clean. His mother figured a fish was better than a dog or a cat, but every time the thing pooped, Micky had to clean its bowl. That’s probably what killed it.
Doctors tried to diagnose him with OCD, but when asked, Micky would reply, “I like things clean.” He never knew, as a kid scrubbing the sides of that fish bowl, that he’d be using his skills to clean up after mob bosses and trigger happy thugs.
Micky spent most of the insomnia hours wandering the dark halls. There were coral and algae in the tank that glowed slightly, giving the rooms a bluish tinge, and if Micky held his breath, it almost felt like he was underwater.
Underwater.
Micky hated water. He loved eating the things that came out of it, but besides a shower and a hot tub with pretty boys, he wasn’t going to voluntarily get in water.
The only reason he agreed to this is because he had been told he didn’t actually have to go into the water. He had been told, quite forcefully and quite often by Shim Changmin, that he was not allowed to go in the water. When he cleaned some of the areas, he wasn’t able to drain the water completely, because of the corals and anemones, but then the water only came up to his knees at its deepest.
As he stared at the swaying kelp, Micky wished there were fish in the tank to stare at. Something besides the damn crab.
He leaned his forehead on the cool glass and shut his eyes. He vaguely cared that he’d have to wipe the streak off the glass in the morning. With eyes half shut, his body swayed in time to the plants.
Pale, almost white skin dashed through the edge of his vision.
Micky’s eyes shot open and sure enough, two bare feet twisted and spun out of his line of sight. Panicked, Micky followed them, rushing from room to room, but he only caught sight of them once more in the master bedroom, up at the top of the water, and then they were gone, the water gurgling like someone had just climbed out of the tank. Cursing, Micky tore through the rooms again, to the door that led him to the hidden catwalks and walkways used to access the tank. He remembered where the feet had disappeared and ran until he couldn’t run anymore.
Stopping, he peered through the water, barely discerning the bed and furniture of the master bedroom. This is where … no it had been-
Micky touched the wall next to his hand. This catwalk ended at this wall, and the wall stretched over the tank, making part of the tank inaccessible. Unusual. No other part of the tank was like that.
Micky knocked on the wall, and heard a thwump back. It was hallow behind this wall.
What was on the other side of it?
The only way to find out was to go into the tank. Into the water.
Micky cursed.
Someone was in Jung Yunho’s house, and Jung Yunho’s prized possession was whatever was living in this gigantic fish tank.
With a deep breath, Micky put his bare foot into the water. It was warm, the right temperature of the subtropical climates on the equator. He swallowed nervously, and then decided that whatever was in this tank could probably fend for itself since it had a habit of eating twenty pound fish and crabs with claws. Unless someone had a harpoon, or a dart with a tranquilizer in it.
Bodyguard was not a role Micky played well. He guarded secrets, not people. But this was important. Someone was in the house. It wasn’t just this fish’s life that was at stake. His was, too.
Determined, Micky shucked off his sweat pants, leaving him in tight boxer-shorts. He sat on the catwalk and put his legs in the water. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed off and sank, fingers barely keep hold of the metal edge. The tank was almost twelve feet deep right here. Using the edge, Micky scooted over the abnormal wall. He put his hand under it and felt nothing but more metal. It stretched about six feet away from walkway.
With one more pep talk, Micky tread water and did his best to follow it. He kept his breathing even. Being in water was not a great place for a panic attack. About two feet from the corner of the wall, Micky’s hand curled around an edge and he gripped it, face pressed against the wall, glad to have something to cling to.
Something grabbed his leg and Micky shouted out and water filled his mouth and lungs and he was pulled under and over and flailing and kicking something dragged him, and panic cut off his breathing and well, that was probably the water, and hot, moist air hit his skin and his hands were on pure white sand and he coughed, and spit up water.
A firm hand rolled him over and Micky shut his eyes tightly, trying to clear them of salt water. Gentle fingers rubbed his eyelids, and a soothing melody in a language Micky had never heard echoed off the walls.
His eyes shot open, and he sat up with a shout and the something or other held him steady while he hacked up more water.
Strong arms. Pale skin.
Green skin.
Gasping, Micky dared look up from the naked skin, into turquoise eyes and the most beautiful face staring at him in concern, head tilted to the side, rose colored lips pushed into a pout.
“Oh fuck,” Micky whispered.
The beautiful man smiled and shook his head.
Something turquoise flipped into his vision and Micky looked at the man’s body.
The creature’s body.
His mind refused to believe it, but still he stared at the tiny waist where pale green skin turned to deep green scales. Light shimmered off the scales, and Micky licked his dry lips, gaze following the curve of muscles along the thick tail that ended in a forked fin that flipped casually in the water in the tank.
Micky swore again, and leaned back into a strong chest and muscled arms.
He died. In the water.
Whoever had broken in had dragged him under the surface and now he was dead.
Part 2: Mythical Dream
.