CHINGUX 2014: teamplay: set one (1/3) for rubyls
Title: Teamplay
Author: shykai
Recipient: rubyls
Pairing/Focus: Jongdae/Baekhyun, Jongdae/Chanyeol, Kyungsoo/Chanyeol, Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Rating: NC-17
Length: 21k
Summary: On court and off, Jongdae makes good use of her kneepads.
Baekhyun joins the junior high volleyball team when she’s a short girl of twelve, dark straight hair pulled up into tight pigtails, smile bright behind the colorblocking of mint green braces. She tells her mom that she joins because she loves the sport, and she does. She likes the anticipation, a great big swooping feeling in her gut as the ball sails over the net, and she especially loves the sounds, the noisy smack of the ball against her forearms and the palm of her hand, the encouraging shouts of her teammates. So, yes. Baekhyun likes to play. And it doesn’t hurt that’s she good at it. She’s a quick thinker, fast on her feet, graceful with her fingers, and it propels her to varsity the year she enters high school.
And, quick thinker that she is, Baekhyun soon realizes that as much as she likes the sport, she likes the uniforms more.
“Just think about it,” Baekhyun’s wailing, big pink hearts thudding in her eyes as she drapes herself over her friend’s torso, laptop burning hot against their thighs. She’s no longer a raccoon-eyed, spotty teen with a serious attitude problem and a fondness for post-hardcore dissonance, but her love for the sport has persevered all the way to her second year in university, and right now it manifests in the video clip of the U.S. Women’s National Volleyball Team that’s playing in the background and in the way she inches closer to her friend where they sit side by side on her bed. “All those cute girls running around in spandex shorts and sleeveless tops. Inter-High was the best time of my life.”
“God, you are so gay,” Chanyeol says, nose crinkling as she laughs and shoves Baekhyun off of her shoulder.
“No but really,” Baekhyun says, unperturbed, chin digging into Chanyeol’s shoulder as she tugs urgently on her friend’s wrist. “You played in high school too,” she laments in her best whine. “How could you not remember?”
Chanyeol looks down at Baekhyun fondly before returning her attention to the screen. It shows star setter Alisha Glass rising a few inches from the gym floor to ease the ball into the empty pocket of air above her head, and then she's snapping it away with the purposeful suggestion of her fingertips. An arduous game, they'd taken home silver from FIVB that year. “I think you and I remember Inter-High very differently,” Chanyeol says, biting back a smile. “I seem to recall it being, you know, about volleyball?”
Baekhyun slaps Chanyeol’s arm. “But the uniforms, Chanyeol. The uniforms.”
“Hum, yes, the uniforms,” Chanyeol replies patiently, pushing the laptop off her long legs and making a grab for her phone. Baekhyun’s talking in italics again, she messages Kyungsoo. It quickly registers as read but no reply is forthcoming, so Chanyeol pleads, Help? and then groans when the eventual response is a brief and uninterested Lol.
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun wheedles, hand settling on Chanyeol’s thigh, fingernails catching on the inseam of her jeans. The action gets all sorts of tempting ideas springing around in Chanyeol's brain, most of which involve some level of nakedness, but she still has sixty frames to draw for her animation studio tomorrow. So.
“What, Baekhyun?” Chanyeol asks around an exasperated laugh, and, regretfully, plucks the hand that’s crawling up her leg.
“Play with me,” Baekhyun says, drawing out the eeee as she wiggles her shoulders in a sorry attempt to be darling, softly permed hair spilling down her back. “There used to be a lot of people in the club but they were mostly seniors and now they’re gone. You have to.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Chanyeol retorts. In a fit of righteousness and against better judgement for her own physical safety, she adds, “Why don’t you ask Kyungsoo?”
“So you’ll do it if she does?” Baekhyun snorts delicately. “You’re so transparent.”
“What?” Chanyeol kicks at her, frown pulling her brows together. “That’s not what I meant.”
But Baekhyun, sprawled on her back now, is already pressing Call. She puts it on speaker. “Hey, Kyungsoo, join the volleyball club with me.”
It’s quiet on the other line, and then there’s a low sigh. “No.”
“Chanyeol says she’ll join if you do,” Baekhyun replies, sitting up to slap a pillow over Chanyeol’s protesting mouth.
A ponderous silence. “Why?”
“Because,” Baekhyun says, “think of the uniforms. Think of the butts.”
“What? No, I mean why would Chanyeol want to join? She has the coordination of a newborn giraffe.”
“No I don’t!” Chanyeol says hotly, snatching the phone from Baekhyun’s hand, her short hair whipping around her face. Whenever Chanyeol squabbles with Kyungsoo, Chanyeol's eyes open far too roundly and her brows tilt up in that pitiful way. It makes her look likes she's begging even when she's trying to make a point. “I played on varsity in high school! I’m actually pretty great!”
Kyungsoo makes a contemplative noise. “Well, good for you then.”
Baekhyun takes the phone back. “See? Don’t you wanna see Chanyeol in spandex?”
“Not really,” Kyungsoo says calmly from the other line, but Baekhyun knows that she's won because Kyungsoo hasn't hung up on her yet. “Also, Baekhyun. You realize our school doesn’t have a volleyball team, right?”
“It’s not a team it’s a club! For fun! On Wednesdays! Come on, Soo, it’ll be fun I promise. You won’t even have to sweat.” She waits a beat, and then barrels through Kyungsoo’s silence. “Awesome, okay. You’re out of studio at six, right? Let’s meet up after.”
“Your welcome,” Baekhyun says to Chanyeol after she’s hung up. Chanyeol regards her with mild distrust before collapsing down onto the bed.
“For what?” Chanyeol asks, but really it sounds like ur mwut, muffled from the way she lays on her stomach, face pressed into the comforter.
“You’ll get to see Kyungsoo in spandex,” Baekhyun says easily, and slaps her friend lightly on the butt. She rolls her eyes when Chanyeol makes a loud, frustrated noise, but then rubs her hand over the spot in a calming gesture. “And other girls. Whatever. Lots of eye candy for your tragically unloved lady boner.”
Chanyeol rolls to her side briefly, face red and pinched. She sends Baekhyun a long glance. “Do I have to wear kneepads?”
"Of course you have to wear kneepads," Baekhyun says, and flicks her long brown hair over a slim shoulder. "Don't be stupid."
Chanyeol’s peach-painted lips turn down at the corners. "But they're stupid," she mutters, expression sour. “And uncool.”
"So are you, but you don’t see me complaining, do you?”
Chanyeol plants a foot to Baekhyun’s side and shoves, sends her small friend toppling off the bed.
“Fine then, don't wear them," Baekhyun snaps as she hops up. She scoffs because God, Chanyeol is such a child sometimes. "But you better not ask me or Kyungsoo to bandage you up when you fall on your ass."
"Well then good thing I've already got cushioning there," Chanyeol replies with a sniff, and reaches back to pat the flesh in question.
Baekhyun gasps out a laugh and jumps on her friend’s legs. "What cushioning?" she cackles, poking at Chanyeol’s flat backside.
"You join the club by yourself, then! Me and my ass and my exposed kneecaps will do just fine without you," Chanyeol says loudly, scissoring her legs until Baekhyun’s forced off.
“Okay, okay,” Baekhyun placates, running a soothing hand down the back of Chanyeol’s smooth, bare thigh. “You have a perfectly acceptable ass. Please join the volleyball club so you can show off your assets and impress everyone with your sick skills. There will be lots of cute girls. You don’t have to wear kneepads.”
Chanyeol sighs, lips pursed in a joking way as she squints up to the ceiling. “I’ll think about it,” she says, and is fully prepared for the way Baekhyun brings the flat of her palm down hard on her thigh. Chanyeol feels her skin heat and redden in the shape of Baekhyun’s small hand, and laughs through the sting.
The thing about being friends with Baekhyun is that it's easy to forget how smart she is, how easily she masks her cunning with layers of biting charm so sugar-sweet it's distracting, how she leaves her lovers smarting from the toothache. That's why Baekhyun likes Chanyeol best. They'd shared the same workbench in their freshman year design studio, and they liked each other's laughter way before Thursday night movie sessions were handled with a little less clothing. She likes Chanyeol best because Chanyeol, even after licking up all of Baekhyun's bad habits and all of her sweetness, can somehow stand the bellyache.
"No," Kyungsoo says again much later, pencil eraser denting her lower lip. She sits on Baekhyun's floor, hunched over a clear ruler and some plotting paper and a bunch of other architecture shit Baekhyun doesn't really care about. Kyungsoo, unlike her feisty counterpart, exudes no excess cream or frosting, just sticks to shortbread basics. She's blunt. Chanyeol likes her for it. Chanyeol likes her an awful lot more than Baekhyun does-not that Baekhyun doesn't like Kyungsoo, it's just that Chanyeol let's everything roll of her shoulders like the world's just one big joke, whereas Baekhyun doesn't like having competition in fun-sized-but-packs-a-punch. Thankfully, Kyungsoo's seemingly satisfied with her role as mediator.
“You lied,” is the first thing Chanyeol says when they step into the gym. Because Baekhyun had lied-no one’s wearing uniforms. Currently gathered is just a random assortment of generally unathletic art students clad in old sportsgear, mostly oversized tees and baggy shorts. Chanyeol makes a face and tugs self-consciously at her spandex running shorts. Kyungsoo’s face remains mostly impassive, but her body language leans ever-so-slightly on the side of pissed. There are cute girls, sure, and the boys aren’t half bad, but they’re all wearing loose workout clothing. All that hype for nothing. Baekhyun silences her friend's trumpeting with the swift jerk of a pointy elbow, and then takes both of her friends by the wrist to drag them forwards.
“Minseok,” Baekhyun hollers, waving her captures’ arms up in the air, “I brought some new recruits!”
A short, well-muscled boy standing at the side of the net gives her a searching look. “Uh, great, hi, welcome. We just play to have fun here. Nothing too intense.” He smiles, and it has his cheeks bunching up high. It’s kind of cute in a weird, endearing way, and Chanyeol has too look away before she starts cooing.
Turning her head seems to draw Baekhyun’s attention, and soon Baekhyun’s crowing, “Chanyeol was the ace on her high school team.” She does a little shimmy. “We’re gonna win.”
Minseok scratches his head. “Right. Well, like I said, we just play for fun-”
“Come on,” Baekhyun says, and drags Chanyeol away. “We have to stretch if we’re gonna win. You've gotta be nice and limber.”
“Uhm,” Kyungsoo says, rooted to the spot Baekhyun had abandoned her in. She nods politely and gives a shy, pained-looking smile. “Hi, I’m Kyungsoo.”
“Minseok. Welcome,” Minseok replies easily. He opens his mouth to say something else, but doesn’t. He ends up scratching his temple again.
“I’m just gonna-should we...” Kyungsoo makes an awkward, lurching gesture to where the other two have seated themselves on the floor, across the court. Chanyeol’s shouting, red in the face, as Baekhyun flattens palms on her friend’s upper back to force her torso down between the achingly wide v of her long legs.
Minseok grimaces and unfurls one arm in a show of courtesy, the other pressed to his stomach. “After you.”
So it's not a team-the school won't allocate proper funding for that. It's a club. Unisex at that, but still just a club for the few art school students that like to indulge in mild athleticism without the added stress of legitimacy and competition. Volleyball club meets Wednesdays, eight at night, for a few solid hours of good-ol-fashioned reckless, untrained sportsmanship. It's not exactly amateur hour, seeing as most members come from a background of musty high school locker rooms and lackluster Inter-High medals, but with no coach or trainer it's not like any of them take it more seriously than it has any right to be.
"My varsity team was undefeated for three consecutive years while I was starting setter," Baekhyun gabs, bubblegum snapping. She shrugs her dainty shoulders, picks some dirt out from beneath a nail. Kyungsoo rolls her eyes, because Baekhyun says it all as though she hasn’t repeated it every week for the past four months. "Just saying."
"Ah yes," their club leader says, his eyes bright and wicked. "And look at you now. Two years into your gold-medal studded career as a-oh, right. As a graphic design major at a school that doesn't even have a volleyball team." Minseok raises his hands to give her a slow clap, but then thinks better of it. "Well done, Your Highness. Looks like your hard work paid off. Why don't you run a few laps, do some finger exercises, show us how it's done."
Baekhyun stands into a stretch, red polyester gym shorts climbing up her lean thighs, and ties her hair back with a bright pink elastic. She starts off and then whips her head back around to where the other ten club members sit in a wide half-circle on the buffed wood floor, stretching. "I'm running because I want to," she says patiently. "Not because you told me to."
Minseok laughs and waves her ahead. On her first warm-up lap Baekhyun almost misses her: a short girl waiting around in her periphery, someone she doesn't recognize, lingering in the double-door entrance. It takes her a moment to remember that she isn't in her school's gym-because her school doesn't even have a gym, for crying out loud-and that they're on literal borrowed time in the rec hall of the neighboring university. She frowns at the girl in the wings as she jogs by and the stranger grins back, lifts a hand in a taunting little wave. Or least Baekhyun thinks as much, watching with narrowed eyes as the girl wiggles thin fingers. Her jog picks up, and then she's passing the girl a second time, shorts swishing between her thighs. She cuts a corner.
"You sure you didn't do track and field?" Chanyeol asks her once she joins, moving much slower to keep pace.
Baekhyun huffs and casts a pointed look at Chanyeol's long, defined legs. "Not all of us are so gifted... though one has to ask, at what cost?" She reaches back to tap her friend lightly on the butt, gives the cotton-covered flesh a little squeeze.
Chanyeol laughs, "Still? You're the worst," and Baekhyun grins at the compliment.
"Who's the girl," she says as they slow, heart rates high and steady. The girl has a dark pixie cut and two locks of rebellious hair that curl up slightly from her forehead like tiny devilish horns. She looks like she could kick Baekhyun's sorry ass and then lick her pussy to make her feel better. Baekhyun is smitten.
"What girl?" Chanyeol questions loudly, obvious as ever, turning her head this way and that. Her wavy pageboy bob glances off her cheeks and curls beneath her chin. A few stands catch between dry lips. She spits the hair out of her mouth, gestures questioningly at the stranger that's now walking towards them. "Oh, her? Ummm, dunno. Hey-hey, Kyungsoo! You got any lip balm?" And then she's ignoring Baekhyun entirely, crouching to hunt through Kyungsoo’s bag for a tube of chapstick.
Helpful, Baekhyun thinks dryly. But then, thankfully, someone else is answering the question for her.
Junmyeon's voice, usually subdued, is loud and bright and welcoming. "Jongdae! Over here!" He calls out, as though the girl could somehow not see him in the otherwise-vacant gymnasium. He's a graphic design major too, in the year above. Baekhyun thinks it shows, in the pallor of his skin and the thinness of his arms. He's a sweet boy, but his whole demeanor reaks of someone who spends entirely too much time on the computer.
Baekhyun tries, actively and earnestly (and successfully, in her humble opinion), to not be one of those people.
"Thanks for coming," he says softly once the stranger moves closer. The girl stands on the fringes of their messy circle, petite but packing presence inside her four hundred-watt smile. "Guys this is Jongdae," Junmyeon's saying, but Baekhyun's hardly listening, too busy looking Jongdae over. Junmyeon drones on about how he'd met the newcomer in one of the extra elective English seminars that he'd taken at her school, because of course Junmyeon has a concentration in early nineteenth century British women's literature. Of course.
Tuning him out completely, Baekhyun lets her gaze fall. Threadbare kneepads give way to hard, shapely thighs and an attractive athletic build, and so Baekhyun says, rather succinctly, "Dibs."
"Baekhyun if you could please hold on for just one moment? Junmyeon asks, pleasant but strained, hands pressed palm-to-palm in front of him.
Baekhyun raises her eyebrows. "What else would she be here for? Clearly she plays. I want her on my team."
"You don't even know if I'm good," the girl in question says. She's stopped smiling but her voice days otherwise. Lofty with laughter, her words crest at the high ceiling.
Baekhyun cocks a hip. "Are you?"
"Eh, I don't knoooow," Jongdae drawls, a smirk curling the corners of her mouth. She has her hands clasped behind her back, and she rocks forwards on the balls of her feet. Jongdae has a strong chin and sharp cheekbones, but her eyebrows are soft and slanted. "Shouldn't you play me and see?"
Lips pursing with reluctance, Baekhyun concedes, "Good point. Alright, she's not on my team. But we're skins! Chanyeol, let's go."
"Baekhyun we go through this every week with you. Volleyball isn't a close-contact sport-are you sure you really played in high school?-so keep your shirt on." Minseok sighs as Baekhyun tugs the hem of her tee up her tragically skinny torso. "Please."
But Jongdae talks over him, not rudely, rounded mouth filling the words out nicely as she slides over. "Mmmm no. I'll be taking the tall one," she says, wrapping fingers around Chanyeol’s wrist. Her nails are short and square, gelled a shiny hot pink.
Baekhyun lets her white shirt fall back down over her sports bra, revealing a petulant frown. "But Chanyeol's mine."
"Girls, girls, I know I’m a hot commodity, but please." Chanyeol placates, head held high. Then she gives a loud, stupid laugh. "Wow, is this how Brad Pitt felt?"
"Surely not," Kyungsoo says from the side, pinching Chanyeol’s bony hip.
But Chanyeol’s words do their job and give Baekhyun pause. "Wait. Then who am I?"
"Well obviously I'm Angelina," Jongdae says, lips pursed fat as she blows Baekhyun a kiss.
"Any day now, ladies," someone calls from the court. In the span of their talk, everyone else has already split up into teams, five on one side, four on the other.
"Baekhyun you're with me," Minseok calls. He waves away her sound of distress, and speaks through a chuckle. "Jongdae, Chanyeol, you're with Wendy. Can we play now, please?"
"You heard the man," Jongdae says, and throws Chanyeol a wink.
Chanyeol, in turn, throws a slightly bewildered look in Baekhyun's direction. Who is this girl? she mouths, smacking her moisturized lips.
Baekhyun shrugs, and follows Jongdae out onto the court. Dunno.
Baekhyun doesn't like it when she can't choose her team. She's got Minseok at middle-back, which would be great if he took the game seriously enough to actually try-he's fit from hours in the furniture studio and Baekhyun wishes he'd use the muscle; Jongin's middle blocker, a reluctant Ace, too shy to ever call for a pass even though she's got some pretty decent skills; Sehun's far left but she calls for too many passes and acts like fucking brat so Baekhyun won't pass to her out of spite; Joy is trading whispers through the net at the right and totally not paying attention at all; Kyungsoo's back-left but the only reason she's playing is because one of the other recent regulars quit, and she's probably never even touched a volleyball outside of high school phys-ed, so Baekhyun counts her pretty much useless.
"Jongin please, just call for one," Baekhyun begs halfway through the first set, tired of letting the ball over the net with the brush of her fingers. Jongin majors in painting, so Baekhyun'd long ago learned to not expect much, but still.
Jongin fidgets, tugs on her ponytail self-consciously. "Uhm," she starts, voice husky and quiet, "I don't know. I mean okay, I guess. If you think I can."
"There you go," Chanyeol says, reaching under the net to slap the tempting bubble of Jongin's butt. "It's no fun if it's one-sided."
"You shut up, traitor," Baekhyun hisses, blotting her hairline with the back of her wrist.
But even with Jongin actually trying, eyeing Chanyeol warily while she murmurs for passes that she'll strike to the ground, it's still not enough to take the first match. The second set follows in much the same way, and when match point comes along Baekhyun has to grit her teeth to stop herself from shouting. She hates to lose, even in friendly club games. It doesn't help that Chanyeol's gloating, slapping her legs and crowing about being the next Kristin Hildebrand.
"Thanks for being such a good sport," Jongdae cajoles once they finish. "Oh! And thanks for being a great mop head."
Baekhyun, wise beyond her years, sees the punchline coming from a mile away. She props a hand on her hip. "Why, because you wiped the floor with me? Come on, you can do better than that. Plus if any side needs actual mopping it's yours. My side's squeaky clean. Didn't even break a sweat."
"Ah, you wound me," Jongdae cries through a wide smile, head tilted slightly at an angle. Her forehead gleams, and baby hairs lay slick against to her temples. "I have a complex."
"Really?" Baekhyun makes a point of eyeing the distance between the top of Jongdae's head and the top of Chanyeol's. "That's you're complex?"
"Like you're any taller!"
"Enough," Kyungsoo intones from the side. She holds a backpack in each hand. Chanyeol reaches for hers dutifully, Baekhyun accepts hers when it's shoved into her stomach. "I want fro-yo. Baekhyun, you're buying. Bye, Jongdae. Lovely meeting you."
Jongdae grins and waves, "Likewise. See you next week!"
"Do I really have to pay? Chanyeol always gets the thirteen ounce cup with fifty toppings and it's like, a hundred bucks," Baekhyun whines as they leave. She continues to whine the whole way there and then in the store as well, even as she hands over her debit card to the bored-looking man behind the cash box. "I'm being held against my will," she whispers to him. "This is my ransom."
Kyungsoo snorts, dips a spoonful of coconut yogurt between her lips. "You're paying your own ransom? Why, 'cause no one else loves you enough?"
"Look, Baekhyun," Chanyeol calls gleefully, pointing to the total on the screen, "you're worth fourteen dollars and some change."
Taking the receipt from the tall, grouchy cashier, Baekhyun pleads, "Save me."
He glances at her, thick eyebrows flat with disinterest, and then looks to the queue behind her. "Next."
◎
Winter encroaches with a flurry of extended deadlines and triple all-nighters, and Baekhyun comes out of finals with a few battle scars, namely the long, puckering wound on the inside of her right forearm. She shows it off like a badge on a Wednesday in January, rolling up a raspberry-colored thermal sleeve under the clean light of the frozen yogurt place (because “Fuck you, fro-yo is open all year round”).
“What happened?” Jongdae asks from her backwards perch in the orange plastic chair. Baekhyun is no longer surprised to see her there; somehow, over the past few weeks, the girl had elbowed and shouldered her way into Baekhyun’s small circle of friends. Jongdae had become a regular at their ragtag volleyball games despite having her own official team, and then a regular on the even more exclusive Wednesday night fro-yo run.
It’s not too bad, Baekhyun surmises, eyeing her new friend through the gauze of lowered lashes. Jongdae’s pretty funny when she wants to be, and she helps Chanyeol pick on Kyungsoo, and she doesn’t even care when I’m mean to her. Maybe she even likes it. Plus she’s actually sort of pretty, in a handsome kind of way.
Baekhyun looks away from the way Jongdae swirls her tongue around the tapered tip of her yogurt. “Sliced my arm open with a box-cutter,” she answers. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo already know the story, so they turn to each other and engage in some weird staring contest type of thing. “I was cutting out the backing for my book and I hadn’t slept in like, thirty hours so my hand slipped and-” Baekhyun makes an ugly swishing noise out the side of her mouth, and Jongdae looks at her in horror.
“Did it hurt?”
Baekhyun harrumphs, and rolls down her sleeve. “Duh. Bled a lot, too.”
Jongdae looks down at Baekhyun’s covered arm and then up to her face. She tilts her head down and grins. “Too bad you didn’t bleed out though.”
Baekhyun inhales loudly, mock shock dropping her mouth wide open to reveal a tongue coated in melted mango yogurt. She presses a hand flat to her chest. “Rude. I could’ve died.”
“Stop being dramatic,” Kyungsoo says then, after flicking Chanyeol between the eyes. “It was a shallow cut, you bled for like five minutes and cried for twenty.”
Jongdae cackles until her stomach hurts, until the grumpy cashier's face takes on a look of permanent irritation. She slaps Baekhyun's thigh at one point, and leaves her hand there while she regains her breathing. Hand slipping down to squeeze Baekhyun’s knee, Jongdae says, “Don’t worry dude, I understand. Paper cuts can be such a bitch.”
Another Wednesday, just when Baekhyun's arm is back in tip-top shape, club activities are relegated to peppering. Peppering is Baekhyun's least-favorite drill, and she scowls.
"Jongin hurt her back and Wendy's wrist is acting up, so lets just do some passing today," Minseok had called once they'd all finished their warm-up stretches. "Try and keep it light," he'd said next, watching as Baekhyun shot up like a weed. Because even if it's just peppering, Baekhyun has to be the best at it.
"Chanyeol!" she calls to where her tall friend is bent over the water fountain, "to me!"
"She's not a dog," Kyungsoo chides, but then she smirks. "Chanyeol, come."
Chanyeol shuffles over looking relatively torn, big eyes round. They take on a guilty sheen when she looks at Baekhyun. "Uhm, I wanna partner up with Soo today," she says as she draws near, and Kyungsoo's grin is exceedingly triumphant.
"But she sucks!" Baekhyun says desperately, already feeling eyes on her.
"Oh Baekhyuuuun," Jondgae trills, appearing as though summoned.
Truth be told Baekhyun isn't displeased in the slightest, but still she makes a show of groaning before she follows Jongdae to the far end of the court.
"So you play, right? I never actually asked. Or maybe I did. I don't remember."
Jongdae gives her a look that reads seriously? before sending her a smooth pass from the inner flat of her forearms.
Baekhyun sets it back, ball light on the tips of her fingers. "You know what I mean. For your school. You're the only one here that ever wears a uniform." She sends Jongdae a sharp grin. Jongdae continues to wear the tight shorts every Wednesday night, and for this Baekhyun is eternally grateful. "Not that I mind."
"You know, for an art student you’re pretty fucking unobservant," Jongdae says, and sends a spike to Baekhyun's toes.
"Urgh," Baekhyun gurgles, padded knees hitting the floor as she digs. "You suck."
"No I don't," Jongdae sings with a smile.
"So what position do you play? Hah, you’re not tall enough to be a hitter-wait you're not a setter, are you?" Baekhyun feels nervous suddenly, but it passes when Jongdae lets out a high, tinkling laugh.
"Nooo," she says, and makes another effortless pass.
"But then-ooooh." Baekhyun smirks. "Libero? You like being on your knees?" Jongdae's pass is high enough for Baekhyun to hit it back down to the girl's feet.
Jondgae sinks to her knees easy enough, sends another pass up above Baekhyun's head. It's perfect. "Not as much as you like using your fingers."
Baekhyun, arms bent overhead and eager fingers extended, has the decency to blush.
“You guys should come to one of my games,” Jongdae continues.
They keep a good rhythm back and forth, and Baekhyun feels increasingly pleased. “Depends,” she leers, giving Jongdae’s spandex-clad form an obvious once-over. “Does everyone look as good in the uniform as you do?”
Jongdae makes a show of thinking about it. “Hmmm. Probably not. I’m libero, remember? No one else does even half as many lunges. I mean, look at my ass.” She catches the ball set to her and spins around, hand on her hip. She sticks her butt out, and from the side Chanyeol and Joy start clapping.
Kyungsoo spikes the ball hard at Chanyeol’s bare knees. Pointing to Baekhyun, she says, “You know, I never thought I’d meet anyone more shameless than slickfingers over here-”
Jongdae bends over slightly and clenches. “Wanna feel?”
“-but I guess was wrong,” Kyungsoo finishes, voice muted by the thunderous sound of Chanyeol’s seal-like clap-stomp and the accompanying hoots of the rest of the club.
Baekhyun hops a few feet forwards, slaps the firm globe of Jongdae’s left asscheek, and crows in delight. “Sold! You’ll see me there, front row.” Then she slaps Jongdae’s other cheek, and lets out a greasy laugh. “For good luck!”
◎
While it may not have been a surprise to anyone that Jongdae, with her sharp tongue and gleeful disposition, had been quickly adopted into what Baekhyun likes to call her Inner Circle, there is something that Baekhyun and the others had never realized: Jongdae, for better or for worse, is a hungry, unrelenting tease. When she'd said in passing, flirty is my middle name, it was apparently more of a promise than a declaration.
"No no, Chanyeol," Jongdae murmurs, voice sickly sweet. "Your posture's all wrong. You need to bend your knees a bit. You're middle blocker! Gotta be ready to go at any given moment." Jongdae has one small hand cupped over Chanyeol’s hip, and the other pats gently the back of Chanyeol’s naked knee.
Baekhyun looks on bitterly. "Can we sue her for sexual harassment?"
Kyungsoo says nothing, but watches with a mix of contempt and interest when Chanyeol starts to flush around the ears.
"It's not harassment if you want it," Joy chimes happily as she props her head on Baekhyun's shoulder. But Joy is a freshman and she wants to go into photography, so Baekhyun pays her no mind. The girl gives tiny, pleased laugh, and says, "Oh, man Chanyeol just looooves that though, doesn't she. Haha... so funny. Right, Irene?" Before Baekhyun can even shove her off, Joy's picking her head up in search of her pink-haired friend. "Irene?"
"She's one to talk," Baekhyun scoffs as Joy flounces away, nose in the air, a perky bloodhound on the hunt.
"So are you," Kyungsoo says, arms crossed beneath her chest.
"Me? What're you talking about?" Baekhyun gives her a legitimately quizzical look before stepping up to the pair below the net. "Alright Libero, hands off my ace. Why don't you teach something you actually know a thing or two about."
"Oh but I know lots of things," Jongdae purrs, entirely and obviously suggestive, hand sliding up the outside of Chanyeol's thigh as she pulls away. "You'll have to be more specific."
"What's with them?" Joy asks upon her return to Kyungsoo’s side, Irene's wrist successfully ensnared in the vice of her thumb and forefinger.
Kyungsoo doesn't feel particularly inclined to answer, so she just bites her lip until her stomach stops its nonsense.
"They need to get laid," Irene says sweetly. She leans over to squint at Kyungsoo, and the pink bun of hair atop her head bobbles with the motion. "You, too."
"Sure," Kyungsoo says to her, and watches Baekhyun and Jongdae circle each other. The mating ritual that unfolds before her eyes is full of a lot of vaguely sexual threats and horrible squawking, and when Chanyeol finally mitigates with a hand on each of their shoulders, Kyungsoo's mildly surprised to find herself wanting to worm her way to the front. Only mildly surprised, because Kyungsoo is familiar with the sharp pang of longing, experiences it whenever she happens upon Chanyeol and Baekhyun engaged in anything other than their usual noisy bickering, or whenever Chanyeol calls her up at two in the morning to cuddle because Baekhyun doesn't like to cuddle after sex ugh Kyungsoo she's so annoying, or when Chanyeol looks down at Kyungsoo with glassy eyes and gin on her breath and slurs, "Love you, Soo." Kyungsoo doesn't pine, that's not how she works. She keeps her feelings folded and tucked neatly away inside the hideous butterfly jewelry box Chanyeol'd gifted her on her last birthday, but sometimes (like now, watching two other girls fight to sling arms around Chanyeol's lower back) her heart gives a little leap, and the wings on the box flutter.
→ PART 2
Author: shykai
Recipient: rubyls
Pairing/Focus: Jongdae/Baekhyun, Jongdae/Chanyeol, Kyungsoo/Chanyeol, Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Rating: NC-17
Length: 21k
Summary: On court and off, Jongdae makes good use of her kneepads.
Baekhyun joins the junior high volleyball team when she’s a short girl of twelve, dark straight hair pulled up into tight pigtails, smile bright behind the colorblocking of mint green braces. She tells her mom that she joins because she loves the sport, and she does. She likes the anticipation, a great big swooping feeling in her gut as the ball sails over the net, and she especially loves the sounds, the noisy smack of the ball against her forearms and the palm of her hand, the encouraging shouts of her teammates. So, yes. Baekhyun likes to play. And it doesn’t hurt that’s she good at it. She’s a quick thinker, fast on her feet, graceful with her fingers, and it propels her to varsity the year she enters high school.
And, quick thinker that she is, Baekhyun soon realizes that as much as she likes the sport, she likes the uniforms more.
“Just think about it,” Baekhyun’s wailing, big pink hearts thudding in her eyes as she drapes herself over her friend’s torso, laptop burning hot against their thighs. She’s no longer a raccoon-eyed, spotty teen with a serious attitude problem and a fondness for post-hardcore dissonance, but her love for the sport has persevered all the way to her second year in university, and right now it manifests in the video clip of the U.S. Women’s National Volleyball Team that’s playing in the background and in the way she inches closer to her friend where they sit side by side on her bed. “All those cute girls running around in spandex shorts and sleeveless tops. Inter-High was the best time of my life.”
“God, you are so gay,” Chanyeol says, nose crinkling as she laughs and shoves Baekhyun off of her shoulder.
“No but really,” Baekhyun says, unperturbed, chin digging into Chanyeol’s shoulder as she tugs urgently on her friend’s wrist. “You played in high school too,” she laments in her best whine. “How could you not remember?”
Chanyeol looks down at Baekhyun fondly before returning her attention to the screen. It shows star setter Alisha Glass rising a few inches from the gym floor to ease the ball into the empty pocket of air above her head, and then she's snapping it away with the purposeful suggestion of her fingertips. An arduous game, they'd taken home silver from FIVB that year. “I think you and I remember Inter-High very differently,” Chanyeol says, biting back a smile. “I seem to recall it being, you know, about volleyball?”
Baekhyun slaps Chanyeol’s arm. “But the uniforms, Chanyeol. The uniforms.”
“Hum, yes, the uniforms,” Chanyeol replies patiently, pushing the laptop off her long legs and making a grab for her phone. Baekhyun’s talking in italics again, she messages Kyungsoo. It quickly registers as read but no reply is forthcoming, so Chanyeol pleads, Help? and then groans when the eventual response is a brief and uninterested Lol.
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun wheedles, hand settling on Chanyeol’s thigh, fingernails catching on the inseam of her jeans. The action gets all sorts of tempting ideas springing around in Chanyeol's brain, most of which involve some level of nakedness, but she still has sixty frames to draw for her animation studio tomorrow. So.
“What, Baekhyun?” Chanyeol asks around an exasperated laugh, and, regretfully, plucks the hand that’s crawling up her leg.
“Play with me,” Baekhyun says, drawing out the eeee as she wiggles her shoulders in a sorry attempt to be darling, softly permed hair spilling down her back. “There used to be a lot of people in the club but they were mostly seniors and now they’re gone. You have to.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Chanyeol retorts. In a fit of righteousness and against better judgement for her own physical safety, she adds, “Why don’t you ask Kyungsoo?”
“So you’ll do it if she does?” Baekhyun snorts delicately. “You’re so transparent.”
“What?” Chanyeol kicks at her, frown pulling her brows together. “That’s not what I meant.”
But Baekhyun, sprawled on her back now, is already pressing Call. She puts it on speaker. “Hey, Kyungsoo, join the volleyball club with me.”
It’s quiet on the other line, and then there’s a low sigh. “No.”
“Chanyeol says she’ll join if you do,” Baekhyun replies, sitting up to slap a pillow over Chanyeol’s protesting mouth.
A ponderous silence. “Why?”
“Because,” Baekhyun says, “think of the uniforms. Think of the butts.”
“What? No, I mean why would Chanyeol want to join? She has the coordination of a newborn giraffe.”
“No I don’t!” Chanyeol says hotly, snatching the phone from Baekhyun’s hand, her short hair whipping around her face. Whenever Chanyeol squabbles with Kyungsoo, Chanyeol's eyes open far too roundly and her brows tilt up in that pitiful way. It makes her look likes she's begging even when she's trying to make a point. “I played on varsity in high school! I’m actually pretty great!”
Kyungsoo makes a contemplative noise. “Well, good for you then.”
Baekhyun takes the phone back. “See? Don’t you wanna see Chanyeol in spandex?”
“Not really,” Kyungsoo says calmly from the other line, but Baekhyun knows that she's won because Kyungsoo hasn't hung up on her yet. “Also, Baekhyun. You realize our school doesn’t have a volleyball team, right?”
“It’s not a team it’s a club! For fun! On Wednesdays! Come on, Soo, it’ll be fun I promise. You won’t even have to sweat.” She waits a beat, and then barrels through Kyungsoo’s silence. “Awesome, okay. You’re out of studio at six, right? Let’s meet up after.”
“Your welcome,” Baekhyun says to Chanyeol after she’s hung up. Chanyeol regards her with mild distrust before collapsing down onto the bed.
“For what?” Chanyeol asks, but really it sounds like ur mwut, muffled from the way she lays on her stomach, face pressed into the comforter.
“You’ll get to see Kyungsoo in spandex,” Baekhyun says easily, and slaps her friend lightly on the butt. She rolls her eyes when Chanyeol makes a loud, frustrated noise, but then rubs her hand over the spot in a calming gesture. “And other girls. Whatever. Lots of eye candy for your tragically unloved lady boner.”
Chanyeol rolls to her side briefly, face red and pinched. She sends Baekhyun a long glance. “Do I have to wear kneepads?”
"Of course you have to wear kneepads," Baekhyun says, and flicks her long brown hair over a slim shoulder. "Don't be stupid."
Chanyeol’s peach-painted lips turn down at the corners. "But they're stupid," she mutters, expression sour. “And uncool.”
"So are you, but you don’t see me complaining, do you?”
Chanyeol plants a foot to Baekhyun’s side and shoves, sends her small friend toppling off the bed.
“Fine then, don't wear them," Baekhyun snaps as she hops up. She scoffs because God, Chanyeol is such a child sometimes. "But you better not ask me or Kyungsoo to bandage you up when you fall on your ass."
"Well then good thing I've already got cushioning there," Chanyeol replies with a sniff, and reaches back to pat the flesh in question.
Baekhyun gasps out a laugh and jumps on her friend’s legs. "What cushioning?" she cackles, poking at Chanyeol’s flat backside.
"You join the club by yourself, then! Me and my ass and my exposed kneecaps will do just fine without you," Chanyeol says loudly, scissoring her legs until Baekhyun’s forced off.
“Okay, okay,” Baekhyun placates, running a soothing hand down the back of Chanyeol’s smooth, bare thigh. “You have a perfectly acceptable ass. Please join the volleyball club so you can show off your assets and impress everyone with your sick skills. There will be lots of cute girls. You don’t have to wear kneepads.”
Chanyeol sighs, lips pursed in a joking way as she squints up to the ceiling. “I’ll think about it,” she says, and is fully prepared for the way Baekhyun brings the flat of her palm down hard on her thigh. Chanyeol feels her skin heat and redden in the shape of Baekhyun’s small hand, and laughs through the sting.
The thing about being friends with Baekhyun is that it's easy to forget how smart she is, how easily she masks her cunning with layers of biting charm so sugar-sweet it's distracting, how she leaves her lovers smarting from the toothache. That's why Baekhyun likes Chanyeol best. They'd shared the same workbench in their freshman year design studio, and they liked each other's laughter way before Thursday night movie sessions were handled with a little less clothing. She likes Chanyeol best because Chanyeol, even after licking up all of Baekhyun's bad habits and all of her sweetness, can somehow stand the bellyache.
"No," Kyungsoo says again much later, pencil eraser denting her lower lip. She sits on Baekhyun's floor, hunched over a clear ruler and some plotting paper and a bunch of other architecture shit Baekhyun doesn't really care about. Kyungsoo, unlike her feisty counterpart, exudes no excess cream or frosting, just sticks to shortbread basics. She's blunt. Chanyeol likes her for it. Chanyeol likes her an awful lot more than Baekhyun does-not that Baekhyun doesn't like Kyungsoo, it's just that Chanyeol let's everything roll of her shoulders like the world's just one big joke, whereas Baekhyun doesn't like having competition in fun-sized-but-packs-a-punch. Thankfully, Kyungsoo's seemingly satisfied with her role as mediator.
“You lied,” is the first thing Chanyeol says when they step into the gym. Because Baekhyun had lied-no one’s wearing uniforms. Currently gathered is just a random assortment of generally unathletic art students clad in old sportsgear, mostly oversized tees and baggy shorts. Chanyeol makes a face and tugs self-consciously at her spandex running shorts. Kyungsoo’s face remains mostly impassive, but her body language leans ever-so-slightly on the side of pissed. There are cute girls, sure, and the boys aren’t half bad, but they’re all wearing loose workout clothing. All that hype for nothing. Baekhyun silences her friend's trumpeting with the swift jerk of a pointy elbow, and then takes both of her friends by the wrist to drag them forwards.
“Minseok,” Baekhyun hollers, waving her captures’ arms up in the air, “I brought some new recruits!”
A short, well-muscled boy standing at the side of the net gives her a searching look. “Uh, great, hi, welcome. We just play to have fun here. Nothing too intense.” He smiles, and it has his cheeks bunching up high. It’s kind of cute in a weird, endearing way, and Chanyeol has too look away before she starts cooing.
Turning her head seems to draw Baekhyun’s attention, and soon Baekhyun’s crowing, “Chanyeol was the ace on her high school team.” She does a little shimmy. “We’re gonna win.”
Minseok scratches his head. “Right. Well, like I said, we just play for fun-”
“Come on,” Baekhyun says, and drags Chanyeol away. “We have to stretch if we’re gonna win. You've gotta be nice and limber.”
“Uhm,” Kyungsoo says, rooted to the spot Baekhyun had abandoned her in. She nods politely and gives a shy, pained-looking smile. “Hi, I’m Kyungsoo.”
“Minseok. Welcome,” Minseok replies easily. He opens his mouth to say something else, but doesn’t. He ends up scratching his temple again.
“I’m just gonna-should we...” Kyungsoo makes an awkward, lurching gesture to where the other two have seated themselves on the floor, across the court. Chanyeol’s shouting, red in the face, as Baekhyun flattens palms on her friend’s upper back to force her torso down between the achingly wide v of her long legs.
Minseok grimaces and unfurls one arm in a show of courtesy, the other pressed to his stomach. “After you.”
So it's not a team-the school won't allocate proper funding for that. It's a club. Unisex at that, but still just a club for the few art school students that like to indulge in mild athleticism without the added stress of legitimacy and competition. Volleyball club meets Wednesdays, eight at night, for a few solid hours of good-ol-fashioned reckless, untrained sportsmanship. It's not exactly amateur hour, seeing as most members come from a background of musty high school locker rooms and lackluster Inter-High medals, but with no coach or trainer it's not like any of them take it more seriously than it has any right to be.
"My varsity team was undefeated for three consecutive years while I was starting setter," Baekhyun gabs, bubblegum snapping. She shrugs her dainty shoulders, picks some dirt out from beneath a nail. Kyungsoo rolls her eyes, because Baekhyun says it all as though she hasn’t repeated it every week for the past four months. "Just saying."
"Ah yes," their club leader says, his eyes bright and wicked. "And look at you now. Two years into your gold-medal studded career as a-oh, right. As a graphic design major at a school that doesn't even have a volleyball team." Minseok raises his hands to give her a slow clap, but then thinks better of it. "Well done, Your Highness. Looks like your hard work paid off. Why don't you run a few laps, do some finger exercises, show us how it's done."
Baekhyun stands into a stretch, red polyester gym shorts climbing up her lean thighs, and ties her hair back with a bright pink elastic. She starts off and then whips her head back around to where the other ten club members sit in a wide half-circle on the buffed wood floor, stretching. "I'm running because I want to," she says patiently. "Not because you told me to."
Minseok laughs and waves her ahead. On her first warm-up lap Baekhyun almost misses her: a short girl waiting around in her periphery, someone she doesn't recognize, lingering in the double-door entrance. It takes her a moment to remember that she isn't in her school's gym-because her school doesn't even have a gym, for crying out loud-and that they're on literal borrowed time in the rec hall of the neighboring university. She frowns at the girl in the wings as she jogs by and the stranger grins back, lifts a hand in a taunting little wave. Or least Baekhyun thinks as much, watching with narrowed eyes as the girl wiggles thin fingers. Her jog picks up, and then she's passing the girl a second time, shorts swishing between her thighs. She cuts a corner.
"You sure you didn't do track and field?" Chanyeol asks her once she joins, moving much slower to keep pace.
Baekhyun huffs and casts a pointed look at Chanyeol's long, defined legs. "Not all of us are so gifted... though one has to ask, at what cost?" She reaches back to tap her friend lightly on the butt, gives the cotton-covered flesh a little squeeze.
Chanyeol laughs, "Still? You're the worst," and Baekhyun grins at the compliment.
"Who's the girl," she says as they slow, heart rates high and steady. The girl has a dark pixie cut and two locks of rebellious hair that curl up slightly from her forehead like tiny devilish horns. She looks like she could kick Baekhyun's sorry ass and then lick her pussy to make her feel better. Baekhyun is smitten.
"What girl?" Chanyeol questions loudly, obvious as ever, turning her head this way and that. Her wavy pageboy bob glances off her cheeks and curls beneath her chin. A few stands catch between dry lips. She spits the hair out of her mouth, gestures questioningly at the stranger that's now walking towards them. "Oh, her? Ummm, dunno. Hey-hey, Kyungsoo! You got any lip balm?" And then she's ignoring Baekhyun entirely, crouching to hunt through Kyungsoo’s bag for a tube of chapstick.
Helpful, Baekhyun thinks dryly. But then, thankfully, someone else is answering the question for her.
Junmyeon's voice, usually subdued, is loud and bright and welcoming. "Jongdae! Over here!" He calls out, as though the girl could somehow not see him in the otherwise-vacant gymnasium. He's a graphic design major too, in the year above. Baekhyun thinks it shows, in the pallor of his skin and the thinness of his arms. He's a sweet boy, but his whole demeanor reaks of someone who spends entirely too much time on the computer.
Baekhyun tries, actively and earnestly (and successfully, in her humble opinion), to not be one of those people.
"Thanks for coming," he says softly once the stranger moves closer. The girl stands on the fringes of their messy circle, petite but packing presence inside her four hundred-watt smile. "Guys this is Jongdae," Junmyeon's saying, but Baekhyun's hardly listening, too busy looking Jongdae over. Junmyeon drones on about how he'd met the newcomer in one of the extra elective English seminars that he'd taken at her school, because of course Junmyeon has a concentration in early nineteenth century British women's literature. Of course.
Tuning him out completely, Baekhyun lets her gaze fall. Threadbare kneepads give way to hard, shapely thighs and an attractive athletic build, and so Baekhyun says, rather succinctly, "Dibs."
"Baekhyun if you could please hold on for just one moment? Junmyeon asks, pleasant but strained, hands pressed palm-to-palm in front of him.
Baekhyun raises her eyebrows. "What else would she be here for? Clearly she plays. I want her on my team."
"You don't even know if I'm good," the girl in question says. She's stopped smiling but her voice days otherwise. Lofty with laughter, her words crest at the high ceiling.
Baekhyun cocks a hip. "Are you?"
"Eh, I don't knoooow," Jongdae drawls, a smirk curling the corners of her mouth. She has her hands clasped behind her back, and she rocks forwards on the balls of her feet. Jongdae has a strong chin and sharp cheekbones, but her eyebrows are soft and slanted. "Shouldn't you play me and see?"
Lips pursing with reluctance, Baekhyun concedes, "Good point. Alright, she's not on my team. But we're skins! Chanyeol, let's go."
"Baekhyun we go through this every week with you. Volleyball isn't a close-contact sport-are you sure you really played in high school?-so keep your shirt on." Minseok sighs as Baekhyun tugs the hem of her tee up her tragically skinny torso. "Please."
But Jongdae talks over him, not rudely, rounded mouth filling the words out nicely as she slides over. "Mmmm no. I'll be taking the tall one," she says, wrapping fingers around Chanyeol’s wrist. Her nails are short and square, gelled a shiny hot pink.
Baekhyun lets her white shirt fall back down over her sports bra, revealing a petulant frown. "But Chanyeol's mine."
"Girls, girls, I know I’m a hot commodity, but please." Chanyeol placates, head held high. Then she gives a loud, stupid laugh. "Wow, is this how Brad Pitt felt?"
"Surely not," Kyungsoo says from the side, pinching Chanyeol’s bony hip.
But Chanyeol’s words do their job and give Baekhyun pause. "Wait. Then who am I?"
"Well obviously I'm Angelina," Jongdae says, lips pursed fat as she blows Baekhyun a kiss.
"Any day now, ladies," someone calls from the court. In the span of their talk, everyone else has already split up into teams, five on one side, four on the other.
"Baekhyun you're with me," Minseok calls. He waves away her sound of distress, and speaks through a chuckle. "Jongdae, Chanyeol, you're with Wendy. Can we play now, please?"
"You heard the man," Jongdae says, and throws Chanyeol a wink.
Chanyeol, in turn, throws a slightly bewildered look in Baekhyun's direction. Who is this girl? she mouths, smacking her moisturized lips.
Baekhyun shrugs, and follows Jongdae out onto the court. Dunno.
Baekhyun doesn't like it when she can't choose her team. She's got Minseok at middle-back, which would be great if he took the game seriously enough to actually try-he's fit from hours in the furniture studio and Baekhyun wishes he'd use the muscle; Jongin's middle blocker, a reluctant Ace, too shy to ever call for a pass even though she's got some pretty decent skills; Sehun's far left but she calls for too many passes and acts like fucking brat so Baekhyun won't pass to her out of spite; Joy is trading whispers through the net at the right and totally not paying attention at all; Kyungsoo's back-left but the only reason she's playing is because one of the other recent regulars quit, and she's probably never even touched a volleyball outside of high school phys-ed, so Baekhyun counts her pretty much useless.
"Jongin please, just call for one," Baekhyun begs halfway through the first set, tired of letting the ball over the net with the brush of her fingers. Jongin majors in painting, so Baekhyun'd long ago learned to not expect much, but still.
Jongin fidgets, tugs on her ponytail self-consciously. "Uhm," she starts, voice husky and quiet, "I don't know. I mean okay, I guess. If you think I can."
"There you go," Chanyeol says, reaching under the net to slap the tempting bubble of Jongin's butt. "It's no fun if it's one-sided."
"You shut up, traitor," Baekhyun hisses, blotting her hairline with the back of her wrist.
But even with Jongin actually trying, eyeing Chanyeol warily while she murmurs for passes that she'll strike to the ground, it's still not enough to take the first match. The second set follows in much the same way, and when match point comes along Baekhyun has to grit her teeth to stop herself from shouting. She hates to lose, even in friendly club games. It doesn't help that Chanyeol's gloating, slapping her legs and crowing about being the next Kristin Hildebrand.
"Thanks for being such a good sport," Jongdae cajoles once they finish. "Oh! And thanks for being a great mop head."
Baekhyun, wise beyond her years, sees the punchline coming from a mile away. She props a hand on her hip. "Why, because you wiped the floor with me? Come on, you can do better than that. Plus if any side needs actual mopping it's yours. My side's squeaky clean. Didn't even break a sweat."
"Ah, you wound me," Jongdae cries through a wide smile, head tilted slightly at an angle. Her forehead gleams, and baby hairs lay slick against to her temples. "I have a complex."
"Really?" Baekhyun makes a point of eyeing the distance between the top of Jongdae's head and the top of Chanyeol's. "That's you're complex?"
"Like you're any taller!"
"Enough," Kyungsoo intones from the side. She holds a backpack in each hand. Chanyeol reaches for hers dutifully, Baekhyun accepts hers when it's shoved into her stomach. "I want fro-yo. Baekhyun, you're buying. Bye, Jongdae. Lovely meeting you."
Jongdae grins and waves, "Likewise. See you next week!"
"Do I really have to pay? Chanyeol always gets the thirteen ounce cup with fifty toppings and it's like, a hundred bucks," Baekhyun whines as they leave. She continues to whine the whole way there and then in the store as well, even as she hands over her debit card to the bored-looking man behind the cash box. "I'm being held against my will," she whispers to him. "This is my ransom."
Kyungsoo snorts, dips a spoonful of coconut yogurt between her lips. "You're paying your own ransom? Why, 'cause no one else loves you enough?"
"Look, Baekhyun," Chanyeol calls gleefully, pointing to the total on the screen, "you're worth fourteen dollars and some change."
Taking the receipt from the tall, grouchy cashier, Baekhyun pleads, "Save me."
He glances at her, thick eyebrows flat with disinterest, and then looks to the queue behind her. "Next."
◎
Winter encroaches with a flurry of extended deadlines and triple all-nighters, and Baekhyun comes out of finals with a few battle scars, namely the long, puckering wound on the inside of her right forearm. She shows it off like a badge on a Wednesday in January, rolling up a raspberry-colored thermal sleeve under the clean light of the frozen yogurt place (because “Fuck you, fro-yo is open all year round”).
“What happened?” Jongdae asks from her backwards perch in the orange plastic chair. Baekhyun is no longer surprised to see her there; somehow, over the past few weeks, the girl had elbowed and shouldered her way into Baekhyun’s small circle of friends. Jongdae had become a regular at their ragtag volleyball games despite having her own official team, and then a regular on the even more exclusive Wednesday night fro-yo run.
It’s not too bad, Baekhyun surmises, eyeing her new friend through the gauze of lowered lashes. Jongdae’s pretty funny when she wants to be, and she helps Chanyeol pick on Kyungsoo, and she doesn’t even care when I’m mean to her. Maybe she even likes it. Plus she’s actually sort of pretty, in a handsome kind of way.
Baekhyun looks away from the way Jongdae swirls her tongue around the tapered tip of her yogurt. “Sliced my arm open with a box-cutter,” she answers. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo already know the story, so they turn to each other and engage in some weird staring contest type of thing. “I was cutting out the backing for my book and I hadn’t slept in like, thirty hours so my hand slipped and-” Baekhyun makes an ugly swishing noise out the side of her mouth, and Jongdae looks at her in horror.
“Did it hurt?”
Baekhyun harrumphs, and rolls down her sleeve. “Duh. Bled a lot, too.”
Jongdae looks down at Baekhyun’s covered arm and then up to her face. She tilts her head down and grins. “Too bad you didn’t bleed out though.”
Baekhyun inhales loudly, mock shock dropping her mouth wide open to reveal a tongue coated in melted mango yogurt. She presses a hand flat to her chest. “Rude. I could’ve died.”
“Stop being dramatic,” Kyungsoo says then, after flicking Chanyeol between the eyes. “It was a shallow cut, you bled for like five minutes and cried for twenty.”
Jongdae cackles until her stomach hurts, until the grumpy cashier's face takes on a look of permanent irritation. She slaps Baekhyun's thigh at one point, and leaves her hand there while she regains her breathing. Hand slipping down to squeeze Baekhyun’s knee, Jongdae says, “Don’t worry dude, I understand. Paper cuts can be such a bitch.”
Another Wednesday, just when Baekhyun's arm is back in tip-top shape, club activities are relegated to peppering. Peppering is Baekhyun's least-favorite drill, and she scowls.
"Jongin hurt her back and Wendy's wrist is acting up, so lets just do some passing today," Minseok had called once they'd all finished their warm-up stretches. "Try and keep it light," he'd said next, watching as Baekhyun shot up like a weed. Because even if it's just peppering, Baekhyun has to be the best at it.
"Chanyeol!" she calls to where her tall friend is bent over the water fountain, "to me!"
"She's not a dog," Kyungsoo chides, but then she smirks. "Chanyeol, come."
Chanyeol shuffles over looking relatively torn, big eyes round. They take on a guilty sheen when she looks at Baekhyun. "Uhm, I wanna partner up with Soo today," she says as she draws near, and Kyungsoo's grin is exceedingly triumphant.
"But she sucks!" Baekhyun says desperately, already feeling eyes on her.
"Oh Baekhyuuuun," Jondgae trills, appearing as though summoned.
Truth be told Baekhyun isn't displeased in the slightest, but still she makes a show of groaning before she follows Jongdae to the far end of the court.
"So you play, right? I never actually asked. Or maybe I did. I don't remember."
Jongdae gives her a look that reads seriously? before sending her a smooth pass from the inner flat of her forearms.
Baekhyun sets it back, ball light on the tips of her fingers. "You know what I mean. For your school. You're the only one here that ever wears a uniform." She sends Jongdae a sharp grin. Jongdae continues to wear the tight shorts every Wednesday night, and for this Baekhyun is eternally grateful. "Not that I mind."
"You know, for an art student you’re pretty fucking unobservant," Jongdae says, and sends a spike to Baekhyun's toes.
"Urgh," Baekhyun gurgles, padded knees hitting the floor as she digs. "You suck."
"No I don't," Jongdae sings with a smile.
"So what position do you play? Hah, you’re not tall enough to be a hitter-wait you're not a setter, are you?" Baekhyun feels nervous suddenly, but it passes when Jongdae lets out a high, tinkling laugh.
"Nooo," she says, and makes another effortless pass.
"But then-ooooh." Baekhyun smirks. "Libero? You like being on your knees?" Jongdae's pass is high enough for Baekhyun to hit it back down to the girl's feet.
Jondgae sinks to her knees easy enough, sends another pass up above Baekhyun's head. It's perfect. "Not as much as you like using your fingers."
Baekhyun, arms bent overhead and eager fingers extended, has the decency to blush.
“You guys should come to one of my games,” Jongdae continues.
They keep a good rhythm back and forth, and Baekhyun feels increasingly pleased. “Depends,” she leers, giving Jongdae’s spandex-clad form an obvious once-over. “Does everyone look as good in the uniform as you do?”
Jongdae makes a show of thinking about it. “Hmmm. Probably not. I’m libero, remember? No one else does even half as many lunges. I mean, look at my ass.” She catches the ball set to her and spins around, hand on her hip. She sticks her butt out, and from the side Chanyeol and Joy start clapping.
Kyungsoo spikes the ball hard at Chanyeol’s bare knees. Pointing to Baekhyun, she says, “You know, I never thought I’d meet anyone more shameless than slickfingers over here-”
Jongdae bends over slightly and clenches. “Wanna feel?”
“-but I guess was wrong,” Kyungsoo finishes, voice muted by the thunderous sound of Chanyeol’s seal-like clap-stomp and the accompanying hoots of the rest of the club.
Baekhyun hops a few feet forwards, slaps the firm globe of Jongdae’s left asscheek, and crows in delight. “Sold! You’ll see me there, front row.” Then she slaps Jongdae’s other cheek, and lets out a greasy laugh. “For good luck!”
◎
While it may not have been a surprise to anyone that Jongdae, with her sharp tongue and gleeful disposition, had been quickly adopted into what Baekhyun likes to call her Inner Circle, there is something that Baekhyun and the others had never realized: Jongdae, for better or for worse, is a hungry, unrelenting tease. When she'd said in passing, flirty is my middle name, it was apparently more of a promise than a declaration.
"No no, Chanyeol," Jongdae murmurs, voice sickly sweet. "Your posture's all wrong. You need to bend your knees a bit. You're middle blocker! Gotta be ready to go at any given moment." Jongdae has one small hand cupped over Chanyeol’s hip, and the other pats gently the back of Chanyeol’s naked knee.
Baekhyun looks on bitterly. "Can we sue her for sexual harassment?"
Kyungsoo says nothing, but watches with a mix of contempt and interest when Chanyeol starts to flush around the ears.
"It's not harassment if you want it," Joy chimes happily as she props her head on Baekhyun's shoulder. But Joy is a freshman and she wants to go into photography, so Baekhyun pays her no mind. The girl gives tiny, pleased laugh, and says, "Oh, man Chanyeol just looooves that though, doesn't she. Haha... so funny. Right, Irene?" Before Baekhyun can even shove her off, Joy's picking her head up in search of her pink-haired friend. "Irene?"
"She's one to talk," Baekhyun scoffs as Joy flounces away, nose in the air, a perky bloodhound on the hunt.
"So are you," Kyungsoo says, arms crossed beneath her chest.
"Me? What're you talking about?" Baekhyun gives her a legitimately quizzical look before stepping up to the pair below the net. "Alright Libero, hands off my ace. Why don't you teach something you actually know a thing or two about."
"Oh but I know lots of things," Jongdae purrs, entirely and obviously suggestive, hand sliding up the outside of Chanyeol's thigh as she pulls away. "You'll have to be more specific."
"What's with them?" Joy asks upon her return to Kyungsoo’s side, Irene's wrist successfully ensnared in the vice of her thumb and forefinger.
Kyungsoo doesn't feel particularly inclined to answer, so she just bites her lip until her stomach stops its nonsense.
"They need to get laid," Irene says sweetly. She leans over to squint at Kyungsoo, and the pink bun of hair atop her head bobbles with the motion. "You, too."
"Sure," Kyungsoo says to her, and watches Baekhyun and Jongdae circle each other. The mating ritual that unfolds before her eyes is full of a lot of vaguely sexual threats and horrible squawking, and when Chanyeol finally mitigates with a hand on each of their shoulders, Kyungsoo's mildly surprised to find herself wanting to worm her way to the front. Only mildly surprised, because Kyungsoo is familiar with the sharp pang of longing, experiences it whenever she happens upon Chanyeol and Baekhyun engaged in anything other than their usual noisy bickering, or whenever Chanyeol calls her up at two in the morning to cuddle because Baekhyun doesn't like to cuddle after sex ugh Kyungsoo she's so annoying, or when Chanyeol looks down at Kyungsoo with glassy eyes and gin on her breath and slurs, "Love you, Soo." Kyungsoo doesn't pine, that's not how she works. She keeps her feelings folded and tucked neatly away inside the hideous butterfly jewelry box Chanyeol'd gifted her on her last birthday, but sometimes (like now, watching two other girls fight to sling arms around Chanyeol's lower back) her heart gives a little leap, and the wings on the box flutter.
→ PART 2