Day 8 - Memory #4: how Sehun joined Santa’s reindeers
title: 25 days to Christmas -- Day 8 - Memory #4: how Sehun joined Santa’s reindeers
characters: Sehun,Kai,Kris
rating: PG
WC: 1071 (holy shit)
summary: "...Don't tell me you don't see your own nose glowing..."
❆masterpost❆
< prev
“I’m dying...I’m dying...holy shit, I’m dying.”
The curse of the Festive Misplaced Luck, a.k.a. FML, has been bestowed this year as well, punctual like a Swiss clock. It seems like Sehun is unable to escape it: as far as he remembers, he’s always fallen ill around Christmas, ruining his family’s vacation plans every single year.
“Stop being so melodramatic, jeez. It’s just a flu, you should be used to this by now,” his best friend Jongin exclaims from the kitchen. The microwave pings immediately afterwards.
“You’re a crap friend,” Sehun croaks from his death bed (seriously,Sehun…).
“A crap friend who brought you chicken soup?” Jongin reminds him as he makes his way to the leper hospital down the hallway.
“You didn’t even make it yourself so yeah, you’re a crap friend,” Sehun insists, turning his back to the door and burrowing in the comforter some more right as his “friend” enters.
“Would you really confide in my cooking skills?” Jongin steps besides the bed and waits patiently for the little bitch to disentangle from the covers and make room for the tray, “I might accidentally pour dish soap in the pot thinking it’s fish sauce.”
“What kind of fish sauce are you used to?” a matted fringe and watery, judging eyes peek from beneath the covers. Jongin ignores him and shakes the tray lightly, in what’s supposed to be an inviting gesture; Sehun grumbles but eventually sits up in bed.
“For all I know you’ve poisoned the bowl now, like the mother in The Sixth Sense. Get out of here, Lucrezia Borgia!” the comforter is abruptly kicked away during Sehun’s fit, risking to upset the soup bowl when Jongin doesn’t manage to back away on time.
“I don’t know if it’s the fever that’s making you delirious or if you’re really like that,” the poor martyr known as Sehun’s best friend mutters when he’s able to set the tray on the “patient’s” legs, at long last. Jongin finally takes a good look at his friend. He thanks every star for having already placed the tray in a secure place.
“I think it’s contagious…” he whispers.
“What? Why?” Sehun asks before taking a tentative sip of Mrs Kim’s soup.
“...Don’t tell me you don’t see your own nose glowing…”
Sehun crosses his eyes and spots the tip of his nose glowing a faint red. He quietly puts the spoon back in the bowl.
“...What did you put in my soup?”
Sehun looks at Jongin. Jongin looks at Sehun, eyes widening the more his friend’s nose starts to shine more intensely.
So much for securing the soup: in his haste to wrap himself up in a huge, blue dumpling (he’s already steaming thanks to the fever), Sehun throws the tray out of his way; the bowl flies and twirls in the air, its content splattering everywhere, including Jongin, before clattering to the ground without breaking.
“MMMVFTWBMWS?!?!!” Sehun cries underneath the covers, but they don’t do much to hide the red light emanating from his nose.
“What?!” Jongin, half-assedly wiping at the wet stains on his hoodie and jeans, couldn’t hear his friend’s muffled wails.
“What the fuck am I going to do with my nose like this?!?” the sick boy yanks the comforter away from his face, giving a Red Light District atmosphere to his bedroom thanks to his nose, and repeats in a hiss. Right then, the doorbell rings.
“SHIT!” the boys chorus. Sehun hides again under the covers, gesturing his friend to go check who’s at the door. Jongin pads quietly to the entrance and looks in the peephole: an Angry Bird dressed like a model is waiting to be let in. The boy gulps and opens the door slightly, still latched.
“Y-yes?”
“Hello, my name is Wu Yifan. I’m looking for Oh Sehun,” the man mumbles. He must be a foreigner, his Korean is a bit stilted (no shit Sherlock, the name kind of gave it away, don’t you think?).
“Erm...he’s sick, I’ll tell him you passed, please come back another day--” Jongin makes for closing the door but a huge hand (holy shit, are we in a horror movie? Are his fingers going to transform into tentacles?) stops him from doing so.
“I know he’s sick. I know what’s wrong with him. That’s why I’m here,” the man -Yifan- tries to assure him, but that deep voice is doing anything but.
They stare at each other for a long while, Jongin torturing his lower lip in his indecisiveness until he gives in to his gut feeling and lets Yifan in.
(“Goddammit, Jongin,” Sehun groans in his cocoon.)
Jongin guides the guest to the room at the end of the hallway.
“Sehun, this is Wu Yifan. He claims to know what’s wrong with you,” he informs shyly, still torn over how good an idea it was to let someone see his friend in that status.
Sehun pretends to be sleeping.
Sehun pretends to be dead (he’s almost suffocating under the covers so he’s getting there).
...Sehun sticks his head out of his shell, like a snail, mindful of keeping his nose as covered as possible. He throws a betrayed glare at Jongin before moving his attention to the tall stranger.
“It’s just a flu, it’ll go away in a few days. Thanks for your concern, though,” he dismisses the matter quickly. Whether this Yifan guy heard him or not, he doesn’t care.
“And your nose gets so red from blowing it to the point of glowing?” Yifan points out, arms crossed on his broad chest challengingly.
Time seems to stop. Sehun looks at Jongin, asking with his eyes if he said anything about that weird situation but his friend denies with an imperceptible shake of his head. Yifan sighs and steps closer to Sehun’s bed.
“You’ll probably think I’m nuts but here goes nothing: I’m Santa Claus and I’ve been notified you’re the replacement of our current Rudolph, who’s going to retire within days.”
The boys stare at him incredulously, then at each other, before exploding in laughter. Yifan blushes at their reaction (he knew it was inevitable), but the guys’ hilarity is short lived: Sehun momentarily forgot of his nose and let the covers slid away as he leant back to laugh more comfortably,but now the room is bathed in red light and it’s Yifan’s turn to laugh.
“Welcome to the team.”
next >
characters: Sehun,Kai,Kris
rating: PG
WC: 1071 (holy shit)
summary: "...Don't tell me you don't see your own nose glowing..."
❆masterpost❆
< prev
“I’m dying...I’m dying...holy shit, I’m dying.”
The curse of the Festive Misplaced Luck, a.k.a. FML, has been bestowed this year as well, punctual like a Swiss clock. It seems like Sehun is unable to escape it: as far as he remembers, he’s always fallen ill around Christmas, ruining his family’s vacation plans every single year.
“Stop being so melodramatic, jeez. It’s just a flu, you should be used to this by now,” his best friend Jongin exclaims from the kitchen. The microwave pings immediately afterwards.
“You’re a crap friend,” Sehun croaks from his death bed (seriously,Sehun…).
“A crap friend who brought you chicken soup?” Jongin reminds him as he makes his way to the leper hospital down the hallway.
“You didn’t even make it yourself so yeah, you’re a crap friend,” Sehun insists, turning his back to the door and burrowing in the comforter some more right as his “friend” enters.
“Would you really confide in my cooking skills?” Jongin steps besides the bed and waits patiently for the little bitch to disentangle from the covers and make room for the tray, “I might accidentally pour dish soap in the pot thinking it’s fish sauce.”
“What kind of fish sauce are you used to?” a matted fringe and watery, judging eyes peek from beneath the covers. Jongin ignores him and shakes the tray lightly, in what’s supposed to be an inviting gesture; Sehun grumbles but eventually sits up in bed.
“For all I know you’ve poisoned the bowl now, like the mother in The Sixth Sense. Get out of here, Lucrezia Borgia!” the comforter is abruptly kicked away during Sehun’s fit, risking to upset the soup bowl when Jongin doesn’t manage to back away on time.
“I don’t know if it’s the fever that’s making you delirious or if you’re really like that,” the poor martyr known as Sehun’s best friend mutters when he’s able to set the tray on the “patient’s” legs, at long last. Jongin finally takes a good look at his friend. He thanks every star for having already placed the tray in a secure place.
“I think it’s contagious…” he whispers.
“What? Why?” Sehun asks before taking a tentative sip of Mrs Kim’s soup.
“...Don’t tell me you don’t see your own nose glowing…”
Sehun crosses his eyes and spots the tip of his nose glowing a faint red. He quietly puts the spoon back in the bowl.
“...What did you put in my soup?”
Sehun looks at Jongin. Jongin looks at Sehun, eyes widening the more his friend’s nose starts to shine more intensely.
So much for securing the soup: in his haste to wrap himself up in a huge, blue dumpling (he’s already steaming thanks to the fever), Sehun throws the tray out of his way; the bowl flies and twirls in the air, its content splattering everywhere, including Jongin, before clattering to the ground without breaking.
“MMMVFTWBMWS?!?!!” Sehun cries underneath the covers, but they don’t do much to hide the red light emanating from his nose.
“What?!” Jongin, half-assedly wiping at the wet stains on his hoodie and jeans, couldn’t hear his friend’s muffled wails.
“What the fuck am I going to do with my nose like this?!?” the sick boy yanks the comforter away from his face, giving a Red Light District atmosphere to his bedroom thanks to his nose, and repeats in a hiss. Right then, the doorbell rings.
“SHIT!” the boys chorus. Sehun hides again under the covers, gesturing his friend to go check who’s at the door. Jongin pads quietly to the entrance and looks in the peephole: an Angry Bird dressed like a model is waiting to be let in. The boy gulps and opens the door slightly, still latched.
“Y-yes?”
“Hello, my name is Wu Yifan. I’m looking for Oh Sehun,” the man mumbles. He must be a foreigner, his Korean is a bit stilted (no shit Sherlock, the name kind of gave it away, don’t you think?).
“Erm...he’s sick, I’ll tell him you passed, please come back another day--” Jongin makes for closing the door but a huge hand (holy shit, are we in a horror movie? Are his fingers going to transform into tentacles?) stops him from doing so.
“I know he’s sick. I know what’s wrong with him. That’s why I’m here,” the man -Yifan- tries to assure him, but that deep voice is doing anything but.
They stare at each other for a long while, Jongin torturing his lower lip in his indecisiveness until he gives in to his gut feeling and lets Yifan in.
(“Goddammit, Jongin,” Sehun groans in his cocoon.)
Jongin guides the guest to the room at the end of the hallway.
“Sehun, this is Wu Yifan. He claims to know what’s wrong with you,” he informs shyly, still torn over how good an idea it was to let someone see his friend in that status.
Sehun pretends to be sleeping.
Sehun pretends to be dead (he’s almost suffocating under the covers so he’s getting there).
...Sehun sticks his head out of his shell, like a snail, mindful of keeping his nose as covered as possible. He throws a betrayed glare at Jongin before moving his attention to the tall stranger.
“It’s just a flu, it’ll go away in a few days. Thanks for your concern, though,” he dismisses the matter quickly. Whether this Yifan guy heard him or not, he doesn’t care.
“And your nose gets so red from blowing it to the point of glowing?” Yifan points out, arms crossed on his broad chest challengingly.
Time seems to stop. Sehun looks at Jongin, asking with his eyes if he said anything about that weird situation but his friend denies with an imperceptible shake of his head. Yifan sighs and steps closer to Sehun’s bed.
“You’ll probably think I’m nuts but here goes nothing: I’m Santa Claus and I’ve been notified you’re the replacement of our current Rudolph, who’s going to retire within days.”
The boys stare at him incredulously, then at each other, before exploding in laughter. Yifan blushes at their reaction (he knew it was inevitable), but the guys’ hilarity is short lived: Sehun momentarily forgot of his nose and let the covers slid away as he leant back to laugh more comfortably,but now the room is bathed in red light and it’s Yifan’s turn to laugh.
“Welcome to the team.”
next >