Midnight and Dawn (7/13)
Title: Midnight and Dawn (7/13)
Authors: e and hopeandmemory
Rating: NC-17 (for sex and violence)
Overall Word Count: 36283
Warnings: Whatever you'd reasonably expect to see on western television in a crime drama will be found in this fic. If you are easily triggered by material referenced (but rarely explicitly shown) in these kinds of programs, you might want to tread carefully.
Summary: In 2006, Kim Heechul put Kim Youngwoon behind bars. He became a legend almost immediately--the guy who watched Star King instead of doing work, drank more than his fair share of the shitty office coffee, and managed to drive off every partner he'd ever been assigned. And then in 2009, Kim Jungmo joins the force, a new case leaves Special Ops Department 1315 grasping helplessly at straws, and everything changes. Heechul/Jungmo
VII.
On his way out of the office late Thursday evening, he sees Donghae getting into the elevator, holding the doors for him. Jungmo smiles and rushes inside, turning to punch the ground floor button, but Donghae grabs at his wrist with gloved hands and instead taps the button to shut the doors.
Before Jungmo can interject, Donghae lets go of his wrist. “Have you heard from Heechul this week?”
“No, but we’re supposed to meet up on Friday after work, he wants to see this movie--” Jungmo wonders if Heechul had wanted to keep their dating a secret, but Donghae doesn’t seem fazed.
“That’s great. Look.” Donghae shakes his hair out of his face. “You really need to give him space this week. This is triggering a lot of shitty memories for him, and before you even say anything, don’t. Just don’t. Because whatever you think happened while he was undercover, it was so much worse.”
Jungmo feels jealousy flare in his stomach. “How do you know all about this anyway? What makes you an expert, suddenly?”
“Because he did it for me.”
Donghae presses the ground floor button, and they travel down in silence. When the doors open, Jungmo grabs his phone out of his pocket and texts Heechul.
Hey. We still on for tomorrow night?
He sends the message before he can regret it and spend the next half hour rephrasing the question.
His phone dings almost immediately.
Yes :D
Donghae has slipped into his car and is reversing out of the parking lot. Jungmo almost feels vindicated, but the response feels somewhat out of character, and he’s not sure why.
--
Jungmo leans against the cool marble of the cinema’s entrance, holding popcorn (which he knows Heechul will just complain about), soda, and two tickets to the latest idol studded movie--”19 Nineteen.” He’s not sure that it looks good, and he didn’t really understand the plot, but when he’d made reservations and asked for something a teenage girl would like, the box office had recommended this. He finds himself checking his phone every few seconds, marking the time nervously. He doesn’t think Heechul will just ditch him, really, but with the strain of Youngwoon’s escape and--
A high, reedy voice startles him. “Jungmo?”
Jungmo looks up and drop the popcorn and soda. Because Heechul is standing right in front of him in a dress. It’s a light, gauzy thing with layers of green fabric fluffing out at the knee, and he’s wearing a cardigan over his shoulder and a thin, knit scarf around his neck, concealing his Adam’s apple. His hair is brushed out neatly, and there’s a green bow tied in at the back.
“Hee--”
“I’m sorry I’m late. You dropped your food.” Heechul bends over to pick it up, and he sees that there’s a pink purse slung over her shoulder and across her back. He stares.
“I’ll buy more,” he finds himself saying, but he can see Heechul’s collarbones and wrists and somehow he’s ridiculously turned on. He fists his hand in his pocket and tries to think of Siwon.
Heechul finally stands up, and his heels tap against the floor. He smiles bashfully, curling an errant strand of hair around an ear, and something clicks in Jungmo’s head. He steps forward and grabs at Heechul’s arm.
Heechul calls Jungmo by name only when they have sex. Heechul’s hair is always deliberately mussed, his eyes dark and purposeful, his back ramrod straight. Heechul glides across a room and never shrinks into himself, never bends over to pick up trash, and never apologizes.
This is not Heechul.
“Who are you,” he breathes.
“It’s me, Jungmo.”
“You?”
And the girl smiles prettily. “Your date. Heehee.”
“Heehee?”
“Well,” and she coughs softly into a hand. “Heejin. But I like Heehee better.” Her fingers are adorned with silver rings, and her nails are pink. Jungmo swallows.
“You’re not Heechul’s sister or anything, right?” Jungmo asks weakly.
Heehee’s eyes flutter, and Jungmo catches a glimpse of her mascara and shimmering eyeshadow. She takes a step back.
“Sorry,” she says, “a bit of dizzy spell. I didn’t catch your question.”
The curve of her jaw is smooth, and he follows it down, eyes skipping past the scarf around her neck, to the thin sliver of visible skin between dress and cardigan. There is a fading bruise at the juncture of neck and shoulder
It’s Heechul, Jungmo thinks, but it isn’t. He’s at a loss, and wonders if this is what Donghae meant, Donghae knew, if Donghae had--
He offers Heehee his arm. It’s a gesture Heechul might have appreciated as well. He’s relieved when she takes it with three delicate fingers, flushing.
“I got us tickets for that movie with Big Bang in it,” he starts, mouth dry.
Her brow furrows. “Big Bang? The pop group?”
“Yeah. T.O.P and Seungri are the stars.”
She frowns delicately, eyes lowered. Her fingers dig into his arm. “I’m sorry, but could we not? I don’t really like watching pop stars act.”
He almost chokes on his tongue. Kim Heechul, not like seeing pop stars act?
“If you chose it for him, I understand. Jay used to mix us up as well.”
Jay? Jay Kim?
Jungmo blinks and swallows hard. “Uh. I can switch out the tickets, probably, if you’d like?” He glances up at the “Now Playing” marquee over the ticket booth. “That Son Ye-Jin film looked pretty interesting.”
“Do you mind if we just go for coffee? I don’t really like movies.”
Coffee. Some things never change. “Sure. Do you want to meet me there, or do you mind riding with me?”
She stares at him, confused, and licks her lips. They’re shiny. Jungmo wonders if she’s wearing lipgloss.
“Your car is fine?”
“Okay. Okay. Cool. Just--wondering.” Jungmo tugs her gently toward the exit. When they reach the car, he opens the passenger-side door for her, watching her slide inside gracefully, hand modestly clutching at the frills of her dress.
“You know,” she begins when he’s closed the door and joined her in the car, “I’m not him. You need to forget him.”
“You know about--”
She holds up a hand. “Not his name. I get dizzy thinking about it. Jay’s told me all about him, though. I hated Jay for that. It’s not really fair that he gets everything, and I’m supposed to be happy with just--” She pauses and rubs at her forehead.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I just. He knows about me too. He just won’t ever admit it. He thought I was gone, for a while, and even tried to throw out my clothes and makeup.”
Jungmo isn’t sure what side he’s supposed to be on, but he feels badly for the beautiful girl who looks terribly frail and frightened.
“It’s my turn,” she says quietly. He almost doesn’t hear her over the thrum of the engine, and decides not to interject.
I’m gay, he thinks. Heehee is a girl. And she is. He can imagine the cock pinned closely to her thighs in silk panties, and realizes that she must be wearing a bra to hide Heechul’s lack of breasts, but she’s not male. She’s not a guy. And she’s not Heechul.
Well, fuck. Karma for wanting to go on a traditional date, I guess.
He pulls out of the parking lot.
--
Jungmo has moved his set-up in the conference room around so he’s able to watch the office doors through the glass wall separating him from the bullpen. It’s nearly ten, and Heechul still hasn’t made an appearance, even if he is supposed to be back today. Better he stays home than Heehee shows up, though. Jungmo isn’t sure what she’d make of the office, or whether she could handle the strain.
Just as the thought crosses his mind, Heechul storms in, slamming the door behind him, stalking furiously to his desk. He looks around and gestures when he sees Jungmo.
“Coffee!” He shouts loudly enough that the whole office hears. Sungmin jumps. “Now!”
Jungmo nearly upends a stack of folders when he slides his chair back, and picks his way over the cords connecting Kyuhyun’s laptop to the old desktop in the corner. It’s a little pathetic, he thinks for a moment, how quickly he responds to Heechul’s demand. After the week Heechul’s had, though, he figures that a cup of coffee isn’t much to ask for.
Jungmo wants to drop kick the cheap-ass percolator Hyukjae refuses to replace, but settles for pulling the pot out when there’s enough coffee to fill Heechul’s mug. Half milk, three Splendas, two stirrers. She takes hers the same way. He clutches the mug in two hands and brings it out, setting it on the edge of Heechul’s desk.
“What took you so fucking long,” Heechul snaps. He’s sitting at his desk, poring over floorplans and lists of strategies they’d compiled over the week he was out, fingers tapping at his computer keys relentlessly. Jungmo can’t help but notice that almost all of the pink paint has been peeled off, but there’s a small chip left on his right pinky.
Jungmo’s never seen him so serious before. “Sorry. You know that machine takes forever to--”
“Don’t care. Don’t interrupt me when I’m working. I need to run through these reports and all the shit Kyuhyun pulled from their network. I’m a fucking week behind.”
Jungmo retreats uncertainly, keeping an eye on the furious way Heechul pages through the documents, stopping only to check something out on his computer, or call for Kyuhyun to retrieve a file. When he finally takes a break over four hours later, announcing loudly that he’s off to the toilet, Jungmo decides to follow him.
“Wait, Heechul.” Jungmo grabs at Heechul’s wrist in the hallway. For a moment, he marvels at the difference between Heechul and Heehee--Heehee is fragile where Heechul is whipcord. “Are you going to explain this to me?”
Heechul whirls to face him, and his eyes are angry and tight. “No. Just. Trust me, okay? I’m still me. This will all blow over.”
Jungmo is slightly disappointed. He remembers the way Heehee has said Jungmo. He moves closer, hand reaching for Heechul’s neck, looking to press new bruises into his collarbone, sucking deeply at the marks already there. Reminding Heechul of them.
Suddenly, Donghae walks out of the office. The noise startles Jungmo, and he flinches at the look Donghae shoots him, snatching back his hand.
“Heechul, I’m going to practice a few rounds. Want to come?”
“Yes,” Heechul croaks. Donghae turns around and calls for the elevator.
“Listen,” Heechul says furtively, “in case you--don’t tell her anything. Not about the case, not about Youngwoon, not about your job. She doesn’t know as much as she says she does, and you can’t trust her.”
Jungmo blinks. “Heechul, what do you mean--”
“Nothing, okay?”
The elevator dings and Heechul hurries past him. Jungmo can’t help but notice the way the lines in Heechul’s face relax slightly when he’s near Donghae, like the world is somehow infinitely less harsh.
Jungmo walks into the bathroom and punches the wall.
--
No one says anything about the fact that the star member of the team is off shooting bullets into wooden targets instead of working. They need Heechul, Jungmo realizes, and is shocked when he starts to see how much work Heechul can accomplish in such a short amount of time. Sungmin grabs another detailed analysis off of Heechul’s desk and, turning around, notices Jungmo in the conference room. He walks in.
“Hey,” Sungmin says. “You okay?”
After the incident with Heechul’s gun, it had taken weeks to rebuild his relationship with Sungmin. Eventually the other agent had started speaking to him again, answering his questions, and laughing at his jokes. But Jungmo never expected Sungmin to truly forgive him. Not after--
A lump forms in his throat. Now I know why he’s so triggered. “I’ll get over it.”
Sungmin sits down at a chair and clasps his hands on the desk. “I’m really glad the two of you started getting along--frankly, Heechul needed something like that. He’s thirty-one and we’re his only friends. But that’s not good for him and--well. I worry. For him and Donghae both.”
“I don’t know how to talk to him when he’s like this, Sungmin.”
“Solve the case. Everything will work itself out if you work as hard as you can--it’ll all be over once Youngwoon is gone.”
Jungmo taps his fingers on the desk. “Sungmin,” he blurts, “do you--know.”
“No. I don’t. But apparently you do. Donghae and Jay and maybe Hyukjae are the only other ones--so don’t talk about it. If Heechul wanted us to know, he’d have sent out e-mails.” Sungmin smiles thinly. “Get back to work, kiddo.”
Sungmin brushes a hand through his hair and closes the conference room door behind him. They’re so tired, Jungmo realizes. Not just of this--of everything. They’ve all been here for years, and it just never stops. He thinks of Donghae and Heechul downstairs and tries not to be upset, tries to remember that Donghae was there first, has always been there first, but that in the end, Heechul slept with him.
It doesn’t work.
→ VIII
Authors: e and hopeandmemory
Rating: NC-17 (for sex and violence)
Overall Word Count: 36283
Warnings: Whatever you'd reasonably expect to see on western television in a crime drama will be found in this fic. If you are easily triggered by material referenced (but rarely explicitly shown) in these kinds of programs, you might want to tread carefully.
Summary: In 2006, Kim Heechul put Kim Youngwoon behind bars. He became a legend almost immediately--the guy who watched Star King instead of doing work, drank more than his fair share of the shitty office coffee, and managed to drive off every partner he'd ever been assigned. And then in 2009, Kim Jungmo joins the force, a new case leaves Special Ops Department 1315 grasping helplessly at straws, and everything changes. Heechul/Jungmo
VII.
On his way out of the office late Thursday evening, he sees Donghae getting into the elevator, holding the doors for him. Jungmo smiles and rushes inside, turning to punch the ground floor button, but Donghae grabs at his wrist with gloved hands and instead taps the button to shut the doors.
Before Jungmo can interject, Donghae lets go of his wrist. “Have you heard from Heechul this week?”
“No, but we’re supposed to meet up on Friday after work, he wants to see this movie--” Jungmo wonders if Heechul had wanted to keep their dating a secret, but Donghae doesn’t seem fazed.
“That’s great. Look.” Donghae shakes his hair out of his face. “You really need to give him space this week. This is triggering a lot of shitty memories for him, and before you even say anything, don’t. Just don’t. Because whatever you think happened while he was undercover, it was so much worse.”
Jungmo feels jealousy flare in his stomach. “How do you know all about this anyway? What makes you an expert, suddenly?”
“Because he did it for me.”
Donghae presses the ground floor button, and they travel down in silence. When the doors open, Jungmo grabs his phone out of his pocket and texts Heechul.
Hey. We still on for tomorrow night?
He sends the message before he can regret it and spend the next half hour rephrasing the question.
His phone dings almost immediately.
Yes :D
Donghae has slipped into his car and is reversing out of the parking lot. Jungmo almost feels vindicated, but the response feels somewhat out of character, and he’s not sure why.
--
Jungmo leans against the cool marble of the cinema’s entrance, holding popcorn (which he knows Heechul will just complain about), soda, and two tickets to the latest idol studded movie--”19 Nineteen.” He’s not sure that it looks good, and he didn’t really understand the plot, but when he’d made reservations and asked for something a teenage girl would like, the box office had recommended this. He finds himself checking his phone every few seconds, marking the time nervously. He doesn’t think Heechul will just ditch him, really, but with the strain of Youngwoon’s escape and--
A high, reedy voice startles him. “Jungmo?”
Jungmo looks up and drop the popcorn and soda. Because Heechul is standing right in front of him in a dress. It’s a light, gauzy thing with layers of green fabric fluffing out at the knee, and he’s wearing a cardigan over his shoulder and a thin, knit scarf around his neck, concealing his Adam’s apple. His hair is brushed out neatly, and there’s a green bow tied in at the back.
“Hee--”
“I’m sorry I’m late. You dropped your food.” Heechul bends over to pick it up, and he sees that there’s a pink purse slung over her shoulder and across her back. He stares.
“I’ll buy more,” he finds himself saying, but he can see Heechul’s collarbones and wrists and somehow he’s ridiculously turned on. He fists his hand in his pocket and tries to think of Siwon.
Heechul finally stands up, and his heels tap against the floor. He smiles bashfully, curling an errant strand of hair around an ear, and something clicks in Jungmo’s head. He steps forward and grabs at Heechul’s arm.
Heechul calls Jungmo by name only when they have sex. Heechul’s hair is always deliberately mussed, his eyes dark and purposeful, his back ramrod straight. Heechul glides across a room and never shrinks into himself, never bends over to pick up trash, and never apologizes.
This is not Heechul.
“Who are you,” he breathes.
“It’s me, Jungmo.”
“You?”
And the girl smiles prettily. “Your date. Heehee.”
“Heehee?”
“Well,” and she coughs softly into a hand. “Heejin. But I like Heehee better.” Her fingers are adorned with silver rings, and her nails are pink. Jungmo swallows.
“You’re not Heechul’s sister or anything, right?” Jungmo asks weakly.
Heehee’s eyes flutter, and Jungmo catches a glimpse of her mascara and shimmering eyeshadow. She takes a step back.
“Sorry,” she says, “a bit of dizzy spell. I didn’t catch your question.”
The curve of her jaw is smooth, and he follows it down, eyes skipping past the scarf around her neck, to the thin sliver of visible skin between dress and cardigan. There is a fading bruise at the juncture of neck and shoulder
It’s Heechul, Jungmo thinks, but it isn’t. He’s at a loss, and wonders if this is what Donghae meant, Donghae knew, if Donghae had--
He offers Heehee his arm. It’s a gesture Heechul might have appreciated as well. He’s relieved when she takes it with three delicate fingers, flushing.
“I got us tickets for that movie with Big Bang in it,” he starts, mouth dry.
Her brow furrows. “Big Bang? The pop group?”
“Yeah. T.O.P and Seungri are the stars.”
She frowns delicately, eyes lowered. Her fingers dig into his arm. “I’m sorry, but could we not? I don’t really like watching pop stars act.”
He almost chokes on his tongue. Kim Heechul, not like seeing pop stars act?
“If you chose it for him, I understand. Jay used to mix us up as well.”
Jay? Jay Kim?
Jungmo blinks and swallows hard. “Uh. I can switch out the tickets, probably, if you’d like?” He glances up at the “Now Playing” marquee over the ticket booth. “That Son Ye-Jin film looked pretty interesting.”
“Do you mind if we just go for coffee? I don’t really like movies.”
Coffee. Some things never change. “Sure. Do you want to meet me there, or do you mind riding with me?”
She stares at him, confused, and licks her lips. They’re shiny. Jungmo wonders if she’s wearing lipgloss.
“Your car is fine?”
“Okay. Okay. Cool. Just--wondering.” Jungmo tugs her gently toward the exit. When they reach the car, he opens the passenger-side door for her, watching her slide inside gracefully, hand modestly clutching at the frills of her dress.
“You know,” she begins when he’s closed the door and joined her in the car, “I’m not him. You need to forget him.”
“You know about--”
She holds up a hand. “Not his name. I get dizzy thinking about it. Jay’s told me all about him, though. I hated Jay for that. It’s not really fair that he gets everything, and I’m supposed to be happy with just--” She pauses and rubs at her forehead.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I just. He knows about me too. He just won’t ever admit it. He thought I was gone, for a while, and even tried to throw out my clothes and makeup.”
Jungmo isn’t sure what side he’s supposed to be on, but he feels badly for the beautiful girl who looks terribly frail and frightened.
“It’s my turn,” she says quietly. He almost doesn’t hear her over the thrum of the engine, and decides not to interject.
I’m gay, he thinks. Heehee is a girl. And she is. He can imagine the cock pinned closely to her thighs in silk panties, and realizes that she must be wearing a bra to hide Heechul’s lack of breasts, but she’s not male. She’s not a guy. And she’s not Heechul.
Well, fuck. Karma for wanting to go on a traditional date, I guess.
He pulls out of the parking lot.
--
Jungmo has moved his set-up in the conference room around so he’s able to watch the office doors through the glass wall separating him from the bullpen. It’s nearly ten, and Heechul still hasn’t made an appearance, even if he is supposed to be back today. Better he stays home than Heehee shows up, though. Jungmo isn’t sure what she’d make of the office, or whether she could handle the strain.
Just as the thought crosses his mind, Heechul storms in, slamming the door behind him, stalking furiously to his desk. He looks around and gestures when he sees Jungmo.
“Coffee!” He shouts loudly enough that the whole office hears. Sungmin jumps. “Now!”
Jungmo nearly upends a stack of folders when he slides his chair back, and picks his way over the cords connecting Kyuhyun’s laptop to the old desktop in the corner. It’s a little pathetic, he thinks for a moment, how quickly he responds to Heechul’s demand. After the week Heechul’s had, though, he figures that a cup of coffee isn’t much to ask for.
Jungmo wants to drop kick the cheap-ass percolator Hyukjae refuses to replace, but settles for pulling the pot out when there’s enough coffee to fill Heechul’s mug. Half milk, three Splendas, two stirrers. She takes hers the same way. He clutches the mug in two hands and brings it out, setting it on the edge of Heechul’s desk.
“What took you so fucking long,” Heechul snaps. He’s sitting at his desk, poring over floorplans and lists of strategies they’d compiled over the week he was out, fingers tapping at his computer keys relentlessly. Jungmo can’t help but notice that almost all of the pink paint has been peeled off, but there’s a small chip left on his right pinky.
Jungmo’s never seen him so serious before. “Sorry. You know that machine takes forever to--”
“Don’t care. Don’t interrupt me when I’m working. I need to run through these reports and all the shit Kyuhyun pulled from their network. I’m a fucking week behind.”
Jungmo retreats uncertainly, keeping an eye on the furious way Heechul pages through the documents, stopping only to check something out on his computer, or call for Kyuhyun to retrieve a file. When he finally takes a break over four hours later, announcing loudly that he’s off to the toilet, Jungmo decides to follow him.
“Wait, Heechul.” Jungmo grabs at Heechul’s wrist in the hallway. For a moment, he marvels at the difference between Heechul and Heehee--Heehee is fragile where Heechul is whipcord. “Are you going to explain this to me?”
Heechul whirls to face him, and his eyes are angry and tight. “No. Just. Trust me, okay? I’m still me. This will all blow over.”
Jungmo is slightly disappointed. He remembers the way Heehee has said Jungmo. He moves closer, hand reaching for Heechul’s neck, looking to press new bruises into his collarbone, sucking deeply at the marks already there. Reminding Heechul of them.
Suddenly, Donghae walks out of the office. The noise startles Jungmo, and he flinches at the look Donghae shoots him, snatching back his hand.
“Heechul, I’m going to practice a few rounds. Want to come?”
“Yes,” Heechul croaks. Donghae turns around and calls for the elevator.
“Listen,” Heechul says furtively, “in case you--don’t tell her anything. Not about the case, not about Youngwoon, not about your job. She doesn’t know as much as she says she does, and you can’t trust her.”
Jungmo blinks. “Heechul, what do you mean--”
“Nothing, okay?”
The elevator dings and Heechul hurries past him. Jungmo can’t help but notice the way the lines in Heechul’s face relax slightly when he’s near Donghae, like the world is somehow infinitely less harsh.
Jungmo walks into the bathroom and punches the wall.
--
No one says anything about the fact that the star member of the team is off shooting bullets into wooden targets instead of working. They need Heechul, Jungmo realizes, and is shocked when he starts to see how much work Heechul can accomplish in such a short amount of time. Sungmin grabs another detailed analysis off of Heechul’s desk and, turning around, notices Jungmo in the conference room. He walks in.
“Hey,” Sungmin says. “You okay?”
After the incident with Heechul’s gun, it had taken weeks to rebuild his relationship with Sungmin. Eventually the other agent had started speaking to him again, answering his questions, and laughing at his jokes. But Jungmo never expected Sungmin to truly forgive him. Not after--
A lump forms in his throat. Now I know why he’s so triggered. “I’ll get over it.”
Sungmin sits down at a chair and clasps his hands on the desk. “I’m really glad the two of you started getting along--frankly, Heechul needed something like that. He’s thirty-one and we’re his only friends. But that’s not good for him and--well. I worry. For him and Donghae both.”
“I don’t know how to talk to him when he’s like this, Sungmin.”
“Solve the case. Everything will work itself out if you work as hard as you can--it’ll all be over once Youngwoon is gone.”
Jungmo taps his fingers on the desk. “Sungmin,” he blurts, “do you--know.”
“No. I don’t. But apparently you do. Donghae and Jay and maybe Hyukjae are the only other ones--so don’t talk about it. If Heechul wanted us to know, he’d have sent out e-mails.” Sungmin smiles thinly. “Get back to work, kiddo.”
Sungmin brushes a hand through his hair and closes the conference room door behind him. They’re so tired, Jungmo realizes. Not just of this--of everything. They’ve all been here for years, and it just never stops. He thinks of Donghae and Heechul downstairs and tries not to be upset, tries to remember that Donghae was there first, has always been there first, but that in the end, Heechul slept with him.
It doesn’t work.
→ VIII