[oneshot] not great, admittedly
Title: not great, admittedly
Pairing: baekhyun/d.o
Rating: pg13 for language
Genre: au, crack
Warnings: swearing, sexual themes, literally everyone is an asshole
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: it takes a village to run a presidential campaign. also, sex, apparently. vaguely a veep au. for colorfunk, on the occasion of her birth. 1,150 words.
The morning after they lose the Michigan primary, Kyungsoo wakes up and almost falls out of bed. That's Baekhyun's snore rattling from inside the cocoon of sheets. Kyungsoo recognizes it from the five consecutive all-nighters they've tried to pull in the past week. Baekhyun'd passed out Monday at 3AM on top of a stack of campaign slogans, in the middle of a phone call with Congresswoman Song's chief-of-staff, and now he appears to be-here. In bed. With him.
Kyungsoo scuttles as far away from him as possible and whispers, "What the shit?" Four beer bottles roll off the mattress and hit the floor in quick succession. He winces, lip caught between his teeth. The cocoon moves. Baekhyun jerks awake and sticks his messy tuft of hair out of a hole in the sheets. Kyungsoo must look plenty horrified because Baekhyun catches his eye and looks delighted. As delighted as a guy can look coming off a slaughter of a primary, anyway.
"Morning, sugar," he says. Kyungsoo never, ever wanted to know what Baekhyun's self-satisfied just-got-laid voice sounded like, especially not in relation to him. He'd also wanted to clinch Michigan, so it's Wednesday morning and he's already 0-2.
"Are we going to talk about this?" Baekhyun asks later.
"We fucked," Kyungsoo says. "There. We talked about it."
"How was it?"
"I'm not going to satisfy your narcissistic need to have your own sexual exploits recounted to you. You like the sound of your own voice so much you might as well do it yourself. Pretty sure Zitao has one of those recording pens in his huge Kris-bag."
"No, I mean-I literally can't remember."
One glance at Baekhyun's twinkling eyes-god, how did he not have a hangover? Was he Jesus?-and Kyungsoo knows that's a fucking lie. He runs a hand through his hair and purses his lips. "You tried to stick it in and went totally soft. Might want to get that checked out." His mouth twitches when Baekhyun's face goes sour. "I don't think even Viagra can help."
Twelve hours later they're in Tennessee and the four Advil Kyungsoo popped in Lansing have long since worn off. "You understand this makes zero sense," Baekhyun snaps. He's pacing in a tight circle to the right of Kyungsoo's makeshift desk, wound up tight like one of those miniature mouse toys, except mousier, somehow. "Kris is Chinese-American, he can't fall on the pro side of anti-immigration. His entire constituency will kick him in the metaphorical balls. And the literal ones."
"Yes," Kyungsoo replies, leaning back in his chair. "That's why we're going to do it."
Kris folds his arms, brow furrowing, and frowns. "What?"
"We need the redneck vote here," Kyungsoo says bluntly. "And I will do anything in my power to gain it at the eleventh hour, including but not limited to selling my body. Sir."
"Shit," Baekhyun says, sounding impressed. "I think I just got hard."
Kyungsoo throws him the most disgusted look he can muster. "Stop pacing and sit down. You're making my migraine worse."
"But-" Kris tries again.
Kyungsoo sighs. "You can be Chinese-American and anti-immigration, sir. You can be Chinese-American and anything if it'll get the right votes. This is one of the last open primaries during an incumbent election year. You do the math." He waves at Baekhyun. "So get your shit together and announce it to the press."
"This is not what I got into politics for," Kris mutters, but he takes the coffee Zitao swings by to offer him.
"Really?" Kyungsoo says. "Because this is exactly what I got into politics for."
Kris's frown deepens. "Totally fucking your original constituents over?"
"The power trip," Kyungsoo says, straight-faced, at the exact same time Baekhyun does, and has to stick his face in a folder of press releases to hide his laughter.
What they don't tell you about running a presidential campaign is this: you will feel like the most high-strung person in the room, but in reality everyone else is just as tired and overworked as you are.
"You know," Baekhyun comments on Sunday, running off three days of caffeine pills. He's trying to solve an attack ad crisis Joonmyun started in California while also scheduling a last-minute Kris speech in New Jersey on Jongdae's monster calendar of campaign events. Somehow, he still has time to loiter in the bullpen. "Kyungsoo, you're a lot looser after a good fuck." He grins, chin cradled in his hands. "You haven't threatened to dismember anyone in the past four days. That's got to be some kind of record."
"And you've actually been competent at your job, " Kyungsoo returns diplomatically, "so I guess I could say the same to you. Also, it's never happening again."
Baekhyun wiggles his fingers. "You never know what the future holds."
"It's my job to know."
"Yeah? So what do you know about Tuesday night?"
Jongdae coughs loudly and levels them a flat glare over his computer monitor. "Either stop flirting and do your jobs or get a fucking room."
Baekhyun sidles over to prop his ass on the edge of Jongdae's desk. "Aw, don't be jealous, JD. You could always join us."
"I would literally rather fuck the Governor of Tennessee, Baekhyun, and he's about a heartbeat away from a major aneurysm."
"That's cold," Baekhyun says, pressing a hand to his heart. Then he tilts his head to the side, considering, which is more than Kyungsoo ever needed to know about his sexual proclivities. "But also kind of hot."
Kris's Tennessee numbers reach an all time high on Monday. As a third-generation Chinese American and a former Air Force pilot in Iraq, the anti-immigration thing actually plays. Zitao orders a cake in the shape of Kris's face in celebration. "Save it for when we win the primary," Kris says, huge hands bunched up in his crumpled dress shirt, ringed sweat marks underneath his pits. His mouth is doing that puckering thing it does when he's unbelievably stressed out, and he spends the evening memorizing what feels like every single speech that Joonmyun's ever written for him, including three about winning the Michigan primary.
He's spinning in his chair by Tuesday afternoon.
Baekhyun eyes him with concern. "I think he might crumple if we don't win this primary."
"Let's win it, then," Kyungsoo says flatly.
The morning after they win the Tennessee primary, Kyungsoo wakes up to Baekhyun's mouth on his dick. He remembers the previous night better than he does Michigan, Kris's sweeping victory speech and the half-melted remains of his face-cake included, but not by much.
Baekhyun's tongue flicks against Kyungsoo's cock in perfect time with the tremendous pounding in his head. "You came like three times last night," he drawls around the tip, incredibly smug.
"It was the power trip," Kyungsoo says, and pushes Baekhyun's head down so hard he gags.
fin
A/N: SORRY THAT THIS IS LITERALLY JUST DIALOGUE + WHIMSICAL ALLUSIONS TO FUCKING but happy birthday boo hope u have a good one :***
Pairing: baekhyun/d.o
Rating: pg13 for language
Genre: au, crack
Warnings: swearing, sexual themes, literally everyone is an asshole
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: it takes a village to run a presidential campaign. also, sex, apparently. vaguely a veep au. for colorfunk, on the occasion of her birth. 1,150 words.
The morning after they lose the Michigan primary, Kyungsoo wakes up and almost falls out of bed. That's Baekhyun's snore rattling from inside the cocoon of sheets. Kyungsoo recognizes it from the five consecutive all-nighters they've tried to pull in the past week. Baekhyun'd passed out Monday at 3AM on top of a stack of campaign slogans, in the middle of a phone call with Congresswoman Song's chief-of-staff, and now he appears to be-here. In bed. With him.
Kyungsoo scuttles as far away from him as possible and whispers, "What the shit?" Four beer bottles roll off the mattress and hit the floor in quick succession. He winces, lip caught between his teeth. The cocoon moves. Baekhyun jerks awake and sticks his messy tuft of hair out of a hole in the sheets. Kyungsoo must look plenty horrified because Baekhyun catches his eye and looks delighted. As delighted as a guy can look coming off a slaughter of a primary, anyway.
"Morning, sugar," he says. Kyungsoo never, ever wanted to know what Baekhyun's self-satisfied just-got-laid voice sounded like, especially not in relation to him. He'd also wanted to clinch Michigan, so it's Wednesday morning and he's already 0-2.
"Are we going to talk about this?" Baekhyun asks later.
"We fucked," Kyungsoo says. "There. We talked about it."
"How was it?"
"I'm not going to satisfy your narcissistic need to have your own sexual exploits recounted to you. You like the sound of your own voice so much you might as well do it yourself. Pretty sure Zitao has one of those recording pens in his huge Kris-bag."
"No, I mean-I literally can't remember."
One glance at Baekhyun's twinkling eyes-god, how did he not have a hangover? Was he Jesus?-and Kyungsoo knows that's a fucking lie. He runs a hand through his hair and purses his lips. "You tried to stick it in and went totally soft. Might want to get that checked out." His mouth twitches when Baekhyun's face goes sour. "I don't think even Viagra can help."
Twelve hours later they're in Tennessee and the four Advil Kyungsoo popped in Lansing have long since worn off. "You understand this makes zero sense," Baekhyun snaps. He's pacing in a tight circle to the right of Kyungsoo's makeshift desk, wound up tight like one of those miniature mouse toys, except mousier, somehow. "Kris is Chinese-American, he can't fall on the pro side of anti-immigration. His entire constituency will kick him in the metaphorical balls. And the literal ones."
"Yes," Kyungsoo replies, leaning back in his chair. "That's why we're going to do it."
Kris folds his arms, brow furrowing, and frowns. "What?"
"We need the redneck vote here," Kyungsoo says bluntly. "And I will do anything in my power to gain it at the eleventh hour, including but not limited to selling my body. Sir."
"Shit," Baekhyun says, sounding impressed. "I think I just got hard."
Kyungsoo throws him the most disgusted look he can muster. "Stop pacing and sit down. You're making my migraine worse."
"But-" Kris tries again.
Kyungsoo sighs. "You can be Chinese-American and anti-immigration, sir. You can be Chinese-American and anything if it'll get the right votes. This is one of the last open primaries during an incumbent election year. You do the math." He waves at Baekhyun. "So get your shit together and announce it to the press."
"This is not what I got into politics for," Kris mutters, but he takes the coffee Zitao swings by to offer him.
"Really?" Kyungsoo says. "Because this is exactly what I got into politics for."
Kris's frown deepens. "Totally fucking your original constituents over?"
"The power trip," Kyungsoo says, straight-faced, at the exact same time Baekhyun does, and has to stick his face in a folder of press releases to hide his laughter.
What they don't tell you about running a presidential campaign is this: you will feel like the most high-strung person in the room, but in reality everyone else is just as tired and overworked as you are.
"You know," Baekhyun comments on Sunday, running off three days of caffeine pills. He's trying to solve an attack ad crisis Joonmyun started in California while also scheduling a last-minute Kris speech in New Jersey on Jongdae's monster calendar of campaign events. Somehow, he still has time to loiter in the bullpen. "Kyungsoo, you're a lot looser after a good fuck." He grins, chin cradled in his hands. "You haven't threatened to dismember anyone in the past four days. That's got to be some kind of record."
"And you've actually been competent at your job, " Kyungsoo returns diplomatically, "so I guess I could say the same to you. Also, it's never happening again."
Baekhyun wiggles his fingers. "You never know what the future holds."
"It's my job to know."
"Yeah? So what do you know about Tuesday night?"
Jongdae coughs loudly and levels them a flat glare over his computer monitor. "Either stop flirting and do your jobs or get a fucking room."
Baekhyun sidles over to prop his ass on the edge of Jongdae's desk. "Aw, don't be jealous, JD. You could always join us."
"I would literally rather fuck the Governor of Tennessee, Baekhyun, and he's about a heartbeat away from a major aneurysm."
"That's cold," Baekhyun says, pressing a hand to his heart. Then he tilts his head to the side, considering, which is more than Kyungsoo ever needed to know about his sexual proclivities. "But also kind of hot."
Kris's Tennessee numbers reach an all time high on Monday. As a third-generation Chinese American and a former Air Force pilot in Iraq, the anti-immigration thing actually plays. Zitao orders a cake in the shape of Kris's face in celebration. "Save it for when we win the primary," Kris says, huge hands bunched up in his crumpled dress shirt, ringed sweat marks underneath his pits. His mouth is doing that puckering thing it does when he's unbelievably stressed out, and he spends the evening memorizing what feels like every single speech that Joonmyun's ever written for him, including three about winning the Michigan primary.
He's spinning in his chair by Tuesday afternoon.
Baekhyun eyes him with concern. "I think he might crumple if we don't win this primary."
"Let's win it, then," Kyungsoo says flatly.
The morning after they win the Tennessee primary, Kyungsoo wakes up to Baekhyun's mouth on his dick. He remembers the previous night better than he does Michigan, Kris's sweeping victory speech and the half-melted remains of his face-cake included, but not by much.
Baekhyun's tongue flicks against Kyungsoo's cock in perfect time with the tremendous pounding in his head. "You came like three times last night," he drawls around the tip, incredibly smug.
"It was the power trip," Kyungsoo says, and pushes Baekhyun's head down so hard he gags.
fin
A/N: SORRY THAT THIS IS LITERALLY JUST DIALOGUE + WHIMSICAL ALLUSIONS TO FUCKING but happy birthday boo hope u have a good one :***