pariing/rating: hankyung/heechul, pg
summary:Will make a lot more sense if you watch a minute and a half...
The night that it really hits them, that it’s all over and they will inevitably drift apart, all of them, they drink in a dark room together, alone, the stereo turned all the way up. Heechul turns it to classical music, fumbling the dial with drunken fingers, and Hankyung reaches out with a trembling hand, pulling Heechul close and swallowing hard as they sway, emotion swelling.
Heechul thinks he will marry another idol, years down the line, a woman that will understand his eccentricities, with her own that he himself will have to put up with. A smart girl with a sharp tongue who can keep up with him, witty and sharp and sarcastic, and they will both understand it’s a marriage of convenience and not of love. They will sign the papers quietly at city hall, and will spring the news on everyone at a large party, thick with celebrities and friends, family and acquaintances. Heejin will cry and so will Siwon, and there will be an open bar that Heechul will take full advantage of, before joining the rest in drunken performances of their old singles. They will fill their lives with warm laughter and easy friendship, hard work and quiet indiscretions. At night, when they’re sleeping on opposite sides of a big bed, he will think of fleeting touches on stage, gazes that lingered and almost kisses, this moment—Hankyung’s hand tight on his shoulder, the press of their faces.
Hankyung thinks he will marry soon, a blushing Chinese girl who goes to church every Sunday and opts to stay home instead of work. He will stand in a church while she walks up the aisle in white to Henry’s violin, thirteen men in suits by his side. The minister will bless them with words from a God Hankyung doesn’t believe in, and Siwon will deliver his toast in haltering Mandarin, teary-eyed and heartfelt, in sharp contrast with Heechul’s rapid fire Korean, laughs that don’t touch his eyes as he lifts his glass, sad soft smile. Their first child will be a girl, and her first dance with a boy will be with him, waltzing in the darkened kitchen while her mother sleeps and her bottle heats, spinning gently. And he will think of the smell of Heechul’s hair and the hook of his fingers in Heechul’s belt-loops, the slow tinkling of the piano and the slide of the violins, and his heart will skip beats and his breath will hitch, and he will tell his little girl that she can love anyone, anyone at all, and to find that person and never let them go.
title: like slow-dancing in a burning building
pairing/rating: hankyung/heechul, pg
summary: heechul wonders when he got married. Might be lengthened later into like, an actual storyline.
In Heechul’s defense, he’s usually quite observant. He notices things about people around him, tiny shifts in relationships and nuances in body language, different inflections in vocal tones. His perceptions apply to his bandmates, his friends, family, people he meets in shows and interviews, but desert him in regard to his own personal life. It’s not until he’s reading comments on internet videos in a fit of utter boredom that he realizes he’s missed the biggest development of his life.
heechul-oppa and hankyung-oppa are married <3 hanchul OTP <3 , the fans squeal, over and over and over, citing photos and videos and interviews, evidence upon evidence, and Heechul scoffs, before pausing, considering, and then shrieking in horror. Ryeowook pokes his head in.
“Okay, hyung?” he asks chirpily. Heechul looks up at him, sprawled on the floor where he’d fallen out of his chair, then reaches over, curls his fingers around Ryeowook’s ankles and yanks the younger boy down. Ryeowook flails, squeaks, and falls to the floor, sprawled inappropriately over Heechul.
“Uh,” he says into Heechul’s crotch, “this is awkward.” Heechul ignores him.
“Ryeowook,” he says seriously, “am I married?” Ryeowook rolls onto his back and blinks at the ceiling.
“I think I--or, you know, you-- would have noticed that, hyung, so unless you had a super secret wedding to Hanky—”
“ARGHHH,” Heechul says. Ryeowook thinks miserably that he could have just kept walking, that Heechul shrieks a lot, and it’s rarely, if ever, important. There’s a knock on the door.
“Ryeowook-ah?” calls Sungmin cautiously, curiously, “Heechul-hyung?”
“Sungmin!” Heechul bellows, “Come here, I have a question for you!”
“No!” shouts Ryeowook, as the door creaks open, shoving himself to his hands and knees in an attempt either escape to tell Sungmin to save himself, the former being higher on his priority list.
Sungmin opens the door and stops dead.
“Uh.” He says, and Ryeowook becomes aware of the face that he is crouching over Heechul’s lower body, head positioned directly over Heechul’s crotch. Sungmin smiles widely.
“I’m telling Hankyung-hyung,” he sings, and darts off. Heechul scrambles after him, screeching about ‘why Hankyung,’ and Ryeowook flops on his back.
“Never again,” he informs the ceiling, then squints because what—is that ramen?
Heechul is pouting into his pillow when he hears the door open and close, feels the bed dip. Hankyung blows in his ear, laughing. “Eeteuk says you’ve been weirder than usual today,” he says, trying to coax Heechul’s face from the linen of the pillowcase. Heechul grumbles lazily and presses back into Hankyung’s embrace.
“Eeteuk can suck it,” he says, muffled. Hankyung wiggles his fingers into Heechul’s ribcage, tugging gently, and Heechul sighs, allows himself to curl into Hankyung’s front, turning to rest his head on Hankyung’s chest. Hankyung hums in triumph, sliding his fingertips up and down the soft skin of Heechul’s, slipping into the crook of his elbow, watches Heechul breathe in and out. Heechul suddenly jerks away, throwing himself violently off the bed, rolling to his feet and pointing accusingly at Hankyung.
“This!” he splutters, outraged, “This is exactly –arrghh.” He storms out of the room. Hankyung blinks, mouth slightly open.
“Wha—” Heechul bursts back through the door.
“Are you going to explain yourself?” he demands. Hankyung blinks some more.
“Sorry?” he tries. Heechul makes another inarticulate sound of rage, and slams the door behind him. Hankyung shrugs, rolling over into the warm spot Heechul had left in the mattress, dozing off surrounded by Heechul’s smell and wrapped in Heechul’s sheets.
He’s woken by Eeteuk shaking him, looking somewhere between amused and pained.
“Food’s here,” he says, “and Kangin needs to use the bathroom, so get Heechul out of there, would you?” Hankyung pads out into the hall, stretching and yawning, to find Kangin giving the bathroom door the evil eye.
“Look,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “you melodramatic whiny princess. I will pee on your laptop, do not test m—”
Hankyung raps the edge of his knuckles on the door, calling “Food’s on,” without stopping, aiming for the kitchen. He hears the door open and the sounds of a quick scuffle, before Heechul elbows by him sharply, power walking past.
Heechul ignores him all through dinner, reaching past him for items to make it obvious that he’s ignoring him, and speaking purposefully to Donghae, who’s all too happy to chatter to with his hyung. Afterwards they wander in the living room, and Heechul crawls into Siwon’s lap, prompting startled looks from most and a delighted look from Siwon, who cuddles closer and casts smug looks in Hankyung’s direction. Hankyung rolls his eyes and settles next to Shindong, who pats him on the shoulder sympathetically, eyes glued to the television.
Sungmin leans over, whispers “Magnae’s been creeping up on Heechul,” winks conspiratorially, and goes back to his previous position. Hankyung glances over at Ryeowook, who flushes bright red and buries his head in Yehsung’s shoulder.
“It’s not just you,” says Kyuhyun, “the band has gotten crazier lately.”
Hankyung lasts another three days of Heechul going out of his way to ignore him, Ryeowook squeaking and blushing around him, and Siwon grinning at him, Heechul wrapped in his arms, before he snaps. He corners Heechul in his room, shuts his laptop, and spins the desk chair around so Heechul is facing him.
“What the hell,” he demands. Heechul starts to look innocent, remembers it’s Hankyung, and glares mulishly instead. Hankyung changes his tone.
“Heechul,” he says coaxingly, “come on, we can watch Big Bang on the television and mock their hair and outfits…” Heechul’s face softens.
“You’ll make ramen?” he asks, face calculating. Hankyung smiles encouragingly.
“And popcorn,” he bribes. Heechul looks like he’s going to give in for a moment, but then his expression hardens and he crosses his arms stubbornly.
“No. Go away.” Hankyung leans over, bracing himself on the arms of the chair and locks gazes with Heechul.
“What’s wrong,” he murmurs, widening his eyes and bringing a wet sheen to them. Heechul fixes his gaze to a spot over Hankyung’s left shoulder. Hankyung’s lip trembles. Heechul crosses his arms.
“Fine.” says Hankyung, “Fine.” And he throws himself at Heechul.
“Ack,” yelps Heechul, as Hankyung hits him awkwardly, trying for a hard hug but only succeeding in unbalancing the chair, sending them both crashing to the floor.
“Shit,” says Hankyung, “that did not go quite as I had hoped.”
“Ow,” says Heechul, “what the hell is wrong with you?”
“I love you,” Hankyung says, sickly sweet. He bats his eyelashes at Heechul, who stares at him.
“Are you insane?” Heechul asks incredulously. Hankyung puffs his lips out.
“You so prreeety,” he simpers, “I lub you velly much, baby.” He tightens his grip on Heechul’s waist and nuzzles Heechul’s chest.
“Oh my god,” says Heechul, but his lips twitch, so Hankyung just beams at him. “I think the fall knocked your brains loose,” says Heechul, now grinning in amusement.
“Hankyung,” he says quietly, hesitantly, “do you think were married?” Hankyung pulls back and looks properly at Heechul for a moment, before breaking into peals of laughter.
“Oh Heechul,” he says, propping himself up against the desk and pulling Heechul into his lap. “They’ve been saying that for years.
“I know,” says Heechul defensively, “but it’s never seemed this true before, and, and. And I don’t want to be married to your stupid face, anyway.” Hankyung sits in silence for a few moments, sliding his fingers through Heechul’s hair as he mentally translates what Heechul said into what Heechul means. Finally he smiles and pancakes Heechul to the ground, pinning him down with his body and kisses him on the cheek, a wet smack that leaves Heechul squirming.
“You’ll find someone soon, Heechul-ah,” he says, “and we’ll still be best friends, okay?” he hops to his feet and yanks Heechul up, slinging his arm around his shoulders.
“You think my moods are eased that easily?” Heechul scoffs, “When I’m not even getting sex out of this marriage.” And Hankyung just skips off, laughing, into the hall, and so doesn’t see Heechul pause, touching his cheek and looking thoughtful, before shaking his head and following, shrieking happy nonsense, because today he is Heechul and Hankyung is Hankyung and neither of them are married.