Fandom: Super Junior AU
Pairing: Kibum/Donghae, with background Siwon/Hankyung/Heechul and Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi
Word count: 8,557
Summary: “So all I’ve got to do,” says Donghae slowly, “is pretend that I’m your boyfriend.”
A/N: For meiface, because I love her. Also, I attempted that thing, but I don’t really know how it works? So yeah.
To be perfectly honest, being this hot is just a burden. His friends think that it must be great, to have all the girls falling all over him, flirting and sidling up him and falling into bed with him left, right and center. And, well, that last one doesn’t really affect him negatively that much – he rather likes it – but now that he’s slightly older, now that the girls are no longer just teenagers (and there are still a fair few of those in the groups that surround him, he is a little pleased to note), they like to talk about dating and marriage and children. Kibum is a sex god – he is not a commitment god.
Also, it doesn’t help that he’s rich. In fact, the more money you have, the worse it becomes, apparently.
“Oh my god,” says Heechul, and slaps him over the head. “Would you get over yourself?”
“But-” says Kibum.
“No,” says Heechul firmly, as they sit in the corner of the nightclub that they have chosen to grace with their presence that night. Kibum can see at least ten girls hovering around them, not quite daring to approach him while he’s with Heechul, who is well known to be rather unwelcoming to the women who like to talk to them. “No, because I refuse to listen to you talking about how life is so unfair because you’re hot and rich.”
“But it’s true,” says Kibum.
“You should embrace it!” says Heechul. “Open your arms and take hold of all the girls in a five mile radius and fuck them until they forget about ever wanting marriage or kids or any of that shit.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” says Kibum. “But it doesn’t work. The more I sleep with them, the more they think I’m in love with them! And then they think that I want to marry them. Hyung, it’s awful.”
“Hmmm,” says Heechul, looking over at the dance floor, where Hankyung and Siwon are dancing together. “I don’t know. Commitment’s not that bad, really.”
“I’m a playboy, hyung,” says Kibum. “Think of my reputation if I suddenly got married or something. Anyway, I don’t want to have to stay with just one person for the rest of my life.” He pauses, and then glares at Heechul. “Anyway, you’re not ‘committed’. You have regular sex with either one of two guys, or both of them together.”
“I live with them, don’t I?” demands Heechul.
“Yeah, but that’s not like marriage, hyung,” says Kibum. “What you have is sex on every given surface and someone there to cook because you can’t. What I’d get would be nagging and gossip and children. Children, hyung.”
“Okay, children are fucking awful,” says Heechul, and holds out one arm to welcome Siwon back; Siwon nuzzles into his neck as Hankyung climbs over the two of them to sit on his other side. Kibum sighs and slumps back.
“I take your point,” says Heechul lazily, but he isn’t really paying any attention to the conversation anymore.
“Fuck it,” says Kibum, finishes his drink and stands up. “I’m going to go find someone to sleep with.”
“We won’t be here when you get back,” says Heechul, as Hankyung smiles against his collarbone. “Just so you know.”
“I don’t know why I talk to you,” says Kibum, and he really doesn’t.
“Eunhyuk,” says Kibum, flipping his phone open to check for any messages. “Please tell me this is worth my while.”
“I never told you to come over!” says Eunhyuk indignantly. “You’re the one who likes to sit in on the sessions, you pervert.”
Kibum shrugs. “I have other things I could be doing.”
“Well, go do them then!” says Eunhyuk, throwing a towel at him. “Fuck, practise always goes a lot better without you than it does with you. The girl’s group is always too flustered by the owner’s son being there to actually do anything.”
“Well,” says Kibum. “I’ll go see how the singers are doing, and come back after the girls are finished. Then can I watch?”
“Yes,” says Eunhyuk. “But if you sleep with one of my dancers, I’ll tell your father.”
Kibum doesn’t answer, just flips him off as he goes out the door; there’s a heavy thud which suggests that Eunhyuk has thrown something else at him which the door thankfully blocked. He wanders down the corridor, absently flicking open his mobile every so often in order to make sure that the girl from last night hasn’t managed to get his number, and comes to one of the music rooms, where soft piano music is drifting out.
He pushes the door open without knocking, and Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi glance up, shocked. “Hey,” he says, with a grin.
Kyuhyun snarls and steps from between Zhou Mi’s legs. “Would you like, knock?” he asks angrily. “It’s just rude.”
“Would you like, not use my family’s music rooms to fulfil your dirty sexual fantasies?” Kibum retorts. “It’s just rude.”
Zhou Mi says something in Chinese. Kyuhyun screws his nose up. “He does not have a point,” he says. “He wouldn’t even have known about anything if he’d thought to knock.”
“Would you mind not using your practise time to have sex?” Kibum says.
“Fuck you,” says Kyuhyun. “I heard you got lucky last night.”
“When do I not get lucky?” asks Kibum with a smirk.
“Fuck you,” repeats Kyuhyun, and throws a music sheet at him; unfortunately, paper is a lot lighter than a towel and it just floats to the floor in front of him. “Fuck,” he says, as Zhou Mi buries his laughter in his waist.
“What are you practising?” Kibum asks, picking the sheet up off the floor and glancing at it, the musical notes making no sense to him.
“I don’t know,” says Kyuhyun. “Some Chinese song that Mimi wants us to learn.”
“普通朋友,” says Zhou Mi with a grin. “Regular Friends.”
“Yeah,” says Kyuhyun. Zhou Mi snorts a little, as if there is a joke that no one in the room is quite getting, but he is ignored because Zhou Mi is, according to Kyuhyun, a little girl most of the time.
“Nice,” says Kibum, and hands him the music back. “When did Heechul tell you about last night?”
“Just before,” says Kyuhyun. “He popped in on the way past with Hankyung. I think they were on their way to one of the spare dance rooms.”
“Geng-ge’s trying something new,” says Zhou Mi. “Something for an upcoming show.”
“Oh, thanks,” says Kibum, and leaves the room. He doesn’t look back; he has no doubt of what Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi will have restarted to do the second his back is turned.
He climbs the stairs up to where the dance rooms that aren’t used for lessons are. There is only one in use, only one with light streaming out from the small window at the top of the door, and he pushes the door open and steps through. “Heechul-” he says, and then stops, because it’s not Hankyung dancing and Heechul is nowhere to be seen.
He has never seen the boy before, the one who jumps and falls over when Kibum comes in. It’s a bit weird, honestly, because Kibum knows every single person at his father’s company (and a few of the girls quite personally, though they are the singers and Yehsung doesn’t care what Kibum does with the ones he has to work with), and is on speaking terms with almost everyone, and yet this boy, the one scrambling to turn down the loud music that was blocked by the soundproofing of the walls from the outside, is a complete stranger to him.
“Hi,” says Kibum. “Sorry, I was – looking for someone.”
“No,” says the boy. “I’m sorry; I should have heard you knocking.”
“No,” says Kibum. “I didn’t-” Fuck, he thinks. I hate being polite.
The boy grins at him. The smile is so genuine that Kibum feels like he’s just been hit over the head by it. “Hi,” he says brightly. “I’m Donghae.”
“Kibum,” says Kibum, frowning a little, and is about to ask what are you doing here? when the door opens and Sungmin puts his head in.
“Oh, there you are, Kibum,” he says. “I’ve been trying to find you. I think it’s safe for you to come back down to the dance practice now.”
“Are you a dancer too?” asks Donghae, still smiling as he rubs a towel over his face.
“No,” says Kibum. “I’m – my dad’s the owner.”
“Oh,” says Donghae, and then seems to get it. “Oh. You’re Mr Kim’s son?”
“Yeah,” says Kibum. “But-”
“He prefers to think that he’s one of us,” says Sungmin. “Even though he can’t sing or dance.”
“Hey,” says Kibum. “I can dance better than you. And I can act.”
“You are an accomplished actor,” says Sungmin. “You’d have to be to get all those girls to sleep with you.”
Donghae frowns a little. Kibum grins. “It’s not possible to act hot,” he says. “I don’t have to act for them to fall into bed with me.”
“Excuse me,” says Donghae, polite but cold, and he turns away to hover his finger over the play button. “Would you be able to leave me to my practice, please?”
“So you mean to say,” says Kibum as they walk back to the dance rooms a floor below, “that he’s not someone who’s just wandered in?”
“No,” says Sungmin, waving at one of the girls who went past. “Donghae’s a recent addition. He was part of a dance troop, but it broke down, and he wasn’t earning anything, so he had no choice but to sign up to a talent agency. From what I’ve heard, he didn’t particularly want to. He feels it stifles his creative growth or something.”
“I hate the arty types,” says Kibum. Sungmin stares at him, and then laughs loudly.
“Kibum,” he says. “You’re surrounded by the arty types. You’re the heir to an entertainment agency.”
“Yeah,” said Kibum. “And I hate you all, don’t I?”
“Kibum,” says his mother slowly night. Kibum has gone over for dinner from his own flat because the cooks at home always manage better than he ever does with the same ingredients. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”
Kibum is so shocked that he chokes a little on his meal, and has to be handed a glass of water by one of the maids. She blushes a little as he smiles a thank you at her. It’s a shame, she was good at her work. They never seem to last long after he’s slept with them.
“No,” he says a little breathlessly. “Mother, I’m only twenty-two.”
“I know,” says his mother, and her voice is clearly wistful. “But so many of my friends’ children are getting married.”
“They’re all older than me,” says Kibum.
“Don’t you ever think about it?” his mother asks. “All those girlfriends. Don’t you want to get married?”
“No,” says Kibum firmly. He is just very glad that his father is not here.
Heechul quickly makes friends with Lee Donghae, which is a surprise to everyone, because usually he doesn’t give the time of day to most people at the company (which really, makes the fact that he knows everything and everyone a little strange), but he clearly thinks that Donghae is worth his time. Quite why he initially thought that, Kibum never does find out.
“Donghae needs some money,” says Heechul, after a week of friendship. Really, Kibum doesn’t think that one week of friendship is enough for Heechul to be allowed to go around shouting about Donghae’s personal life, but then Heechul never did subscribe to the rest of the world’s rules. “Do you think you could talk to your father about getting him some work?”
“I don’t talk to my father about work,” says Kibum firmly. “We live in different spheres. His is this company – mine is having fun.”
“Well, Donghae needs some money.” Heechul clearly believes that it is up to Kibum to get him some.
“Why can’t he talk to my father?” Kibum asks. “Why do I have to do it?”
“Because Donghae’s new,” says Heechul. “He’s scared that they’ll throw him out if he kicks up a fuss about anything.”
“Oh, you go talk to him,” says Kibum, exasperated. “If you’re so bothered about it.”
“I-” begins Heechul angrily, but is cut off by Kibum’s ringtone. It’s his mother, and he tells Heechul so by screwing his face up and making a noise that sounds like a small mammal just died. Heechul understands that reaction perfectly, and turns back to interrupt Hankyung trying to teach Siwon something. This seems to involve tackling Hankyung to the floor, and it only works because Hankyung, as he has been heard to often say, thinks that Heechul will snap in two if he fights back.
“Yes?” says Kibum.
“Tonight,” says his mother. “You have a date!”
“What.” says Kibum.
“I arranged it with Sohee’s mother. It’s a date for marriage! Meet her tonight outside the Park Hotel at seven pm, okay?”
“Mother,” says Kibum, a lot more patiently that he feels, because inside he kind of wants to murder her. “Mother, we have been through this, I don’t-”
“Kibum,” says his mother firmly. “Marriage is important, and I really think you should do this. It will help create a good image for the family. Also, Sohee is a lovely girl!”
“That’s not the point!” Kibum says, bordering on hysteria. “Mother, I don’t want to get married!”
“You won’t have to get married,” says his mother, and Kibum is just about the heave a sigh of relief when she adds, “at least, not now, and not necessarily to Sohee. Once word gets out that you’re looking to be married, though, we’ll have every eligible girl this side of Seoul falling at your feet.”
She hangs up before Kibum can say anything, but to be honest, all Kibum is capable of doing is gaping at the telephone like a moron – and when someone is looking like a moron, Heechul is always there to see it.
“What’s mother-dearest want?” he asks, one foot on Hankyung’s back, who is whining to be allowed to practise.
“She’s set me up on a date,” rasps Kibum. “With some girl called Sohee.”
Heechul pauses; glares; Hankyung yelps a little; Siwon hunkers down and murmurs soothingly at him while trying to remove Heechul’s stubborn foot. “Kibum,” says Heechul darkly. “Fuck. You.”
“What?” Kibum asks. “Do you know her?”
“Ahn Sohee,” Heechul says, “is the perfect woman.”
“Oh my god, hyung,” says Siwon. “She’s sixteen.”
“I’m not dating her,” says Kibum. There is no way he’s dating anyone Heechul says is perfect, and anyway, sixteen is a little young even for him. “Oh no, I am not dating her.”
He glances around the room, looking desperately for some sort of inspiration, something that will get him out of this horrific thing called marriage that has sprung up on the horizon, and his eyes come to a rest on Donghae, dancing by himself at the other wall. A plan comes into his head; he smiles, slowly, and makes his way over. He leans against the mirror with his arms folded. Donghae stops and looks warily at him.
“Hey,” says Kibum. “I heard you needed some money.”
“Yeah,” says Donghae, a little nervously.
“I’ve got a job for you,” says Kibum.
“So all I’ve got to do,” says Donghae slowly, “is pretend that I’m your boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” says Kibum.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” says Donghae flatly.
“Look,” says Kibum. “I’m willing to pay you for this. Pay you well, might I add. All you have to do is get me out of marrying one of these girls.”
“I don’t know,” says Donghae. “I think you probably should make an honest woman out of one of the girls you screw around.”
There is a bite to his voice. Kibum looks at him coolly. “I get the feeling you don’t like me,” he says.
“It’s not that,” says Donghae, struggling a little. Kibum smiles inwardly. Donghae won’t say anything bad to him, he knows, because he’s worried about what that would mean for his place in the company. “I just feel sorry for the girls.”
Kibum shrugs. “They come willingly,” he says. “Anyway, that’s not important. I’m willing to pay you two hundred thousand won for every date that you help crash.”
Donghae looks a little stunned. “Two hundred thousand,” he says, a little hoarsely. “Just for acting?”
“Drop in the ocean,” Kibum says airily, and then regrets it immediately as Donghae scowls. “Look, I’m willing to pay. Just do it, please?”
“Okay,” says Donghae. “What time?”
He should have been more specific. He should have laid down some ground rules. He should have said, be presentable and look like you’re actually worthy of sleeping with me and – well, the point is, he didn’t, and Donghae has turned up dressed like he’s either just gotten out of high school, or prison.
“What are you wearing?” Kibum looks a little in horror at Donghae’s ripped jeans and tight black sweater, and then down at his own grey, designer suit. They couldn’t look more different if they tried.
Donghae looks down at himself. “What?” he says.
“You’re dressed like,” Kibum says, and then catches himself. “I mean, don’t you have a suit you could wear?”
“No,” says Donghae bluntly. “Anyway, you never said I needed a suit.”
Kibum frowns a little at the skin he can see at Donghae’s knees, the way his jeans are slung low, the way his shirt pulls up a little to reveal a band of the skin of his stomach, and then up to the hair that has been swept into his eyes by the wind outside. He screws his nose up.
“Look,” says Donghae. “All you need is for me to gate-crash your date, right? What does it matter what I’m wearing.”
“Fine,” says Kibum with a sigh. “Fine, but only because I really need to get out of this.”
“Give me the money now,” says Donghae.
“No,” says Kibum with a laugh. “What do you think I am, stupid? You’ll take it and run off.”
Donghae scowls, but his protesting is cut off by Kibum noticing the girl that was on the photograph his mother sent to him coming up the stairs to the front door of the hotel. “She’s here,” he says. “You remember the signal?”
“Yeah,” says Donghae flatly, and leaves the room before the girl can get a look at him.
Ahn Sohee, Kibum finds out, is a lovely girl, if a little young, and in other circumstances, he probably would have slept with her. However, she has come to him with marriage firmly in her mind, and when she begins to talk about wanting to wait until she has finished high school before actually having the ceremony, Kibum panics a little and stretches his arm to the side a little earlier than he had planned.
Luckily, Donghae is watching, unnoticed, from the doorway, and he saunters in at the signal, looks around as if looking for someone, and then heads over. Kibum watches him from the corner of his eye, and then looks directly at Sohee when Donghae comes up behind him.
“Hey,” says Donghae, and slips his hands over Kibum’s shoulders and down his front, crossing them over and resting his head alongside Kibum’s on the back of the chair. “Are you finished yet?”
Kibum has been expecting this, and even so, it comes as a shock, the way Donghae’s hands press against his lower stomach and his voice is low and seductive – Sohee looks like she’s been hit over the head. Kibum’s breath catches a little, but he manages to say, “Not yet. Can’t you wait?”
“Hmm,” says Donghae, and his head dips down to rest on Kibum’s shoulder this time. “Probably. But waiting is so boring, don’t you think?”
There is no way that Donghae has been able to hear the conversation Kibum and Sohee have just had – no doubt he is talking about waiting for the date to finish, and maybe something else, but the timing is so perfect that Kibum can’t stop the grin that comes over his face. Sohee scowls.
“Who are you?” she asks, a little snottily. “I’m surprised they even let you in, dressed like that.”
“Me?” Donghae, Kibum thinks, should be earning a living as an actor, not a dancer. “I’m Kibum’s boyfriend.”
Sohee squeaks. “B-boyfriend?” she stammers.
“Donghae,” Kibum says with a sigh. “Could you wait outside for me until I’m finished here?”
“Sure,” trills Donghae, and stands up, dragging his hands over Kibum’s chest. Kibum shivers a little. Sohee stands up also, and throws her napkin to the table.
“Never mind,” she snaps. “Forget about this date. Go home with your boyfriend.” She storms out before anyone can stop her. Kibum turns joyfully to Donghae.
“You,” he says, “are the greatest person in the entire world.”
Donghae isn’t looking at him; Donghae is looking after Sohee with a strange look on his face, and eventually he turns to Kibum and glares. “Just give me my money,” he says.
Kibum silently hands over the money that Donghae is owed. It’s not until Donghae is storming out in much the same way that Sohee did that Kibum realises that he has been left with the bill.
The next date his mother sets up is with a girl called Jessica, who is just a year younger than him and has just come back from studying in America. Kibum attempts to talk in English with her, but she is more interested in speaking in Korean, telling him that she’s sick of speaking English.
This time, Donghae comes in and repeats what happened last time, with very different consequences. Jessica doesn’t leave. She is suddenly very interested in ‘Oppa’s boyfriend’, and seems to want to talk about him; Kibum makes a lot of things up. The good thing is that she no longer wants to marry Kibum, she wants to marry Donghae.
The next time, Kibum gives the signal when they are leaving the restaurant that they’ve been eating at. Donghae springs up to him and hugs him enthusiastically. “Kibum!” he says brightly. “Does this mean we get to go home now?”
Yuri stops dead. “Who’s this?” she asks.
“Donghae,” says Kibum airily.
“We live together,” says Donghae.
“Oh,” says Yuri. “Like, roommates?”
“No,” says Donghae innocently, and rests his head on Kibum’s shoulder as Kibum wraps an arm around his shoulders – Donghae, when you actually touch him, is so tense that you could snap him in half. Yuri blinks a little.
“Oh,” she says. “Oh, okay. Well, I’ll ring you, shall I, oppa?”
She never does.
“You know,” Kibum says, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of meat. He is treating Donghae to dinner to thank him for his hard work that week. Donghae glances up from his own meal – he is eating as though he hasn’t done so for a week. “You’re really good at this. It’s almost like you actually are gay or something.”
Kibum expects laughter or some sort of denial. Donghae just narrows his eyes at him. “Is that some sort of a joke?” he says, a little suspiciously.
“No,” says Kibum. “Well, a little. I just – I’ve never seen someone as willing as you to act like that around another man.”
Donghae goes suddenly nervous. “I’m just good with skin ship,” he says. “Like Siwon.”
“Hmm,” says Kibum thoughtfully. They eat in silence for a couple of minutes, until Donghae puts his glass down and says quietly, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What?” asks Kibum, slightly confused.
“This,” says Donghae, waving his hand in between the two of them. “I don’t feel right doing it. We’re hurting all those girls.”
“Can you afford to have morals?” Kibum asks with a wry smile. “It’s all well and good doing the right thing when you can afford it.”
Donghae twists his face up. “I don’t feel right,” he says. “I can’t do it.”
Kibum can feel his escape from a life of nagging and changing babies slipping away from him, and he says desperately, “I’m willing to give you a pay rise, if you want. Just - three hundred thousand won a date. And I’ll pay for some new clothes for you.”
Donghae, Kibum has noticed, has worn the same outfit each time that Kibum has had need of him. Kibum is beginning to notice what Sohee meant, and is starting to worry that, perhaps, Donghae will not be allowed into one of the up-market venues they frequent. Also, he probably needs a haircut. As if on cue, Donghae pushes his hair from his eyes, like he has been doing non-stop for the past three days.
“Okay,” he says heavily. “Okay.”
Kibum grins at him.
“Kibum,” says his mother, a little strained, over dinner a couple of days later. “I’ve heard – rumours.”
“Yes?” Kibum looks, he knows, the very picture of innocence. It is probably the same look Sungmin takes on when Heechul is rampaging because someone has eaten his chocolate.
“About you,” continues his mother, looking at him carefully, “and a boy.”
“Mother,” Kibum says. “I have warned out about listening to gossip. There are a lot of strange people out there.”
“Hmm,” says his mother thoughtfully, and regards him over her wine glass. He pretends to not notice.
Kibum is very good at overhearing things. It helps, after all, to be able to know which girls are actually into him, and going after the other girls will probably be a bad idea. That’s why he hears what Heechul says to Donghae one day at their practise. It’s not like he was listening in particular.
“Look,” Heechul says, and he sounds almost sympathetic, and only Donghae could bring about that sort of tone. Heechul isn’t even sympathetic to cold, wet puppies left out at the side of the road. “I know it’s a hard time for you, and I understand that you have no where else right now, but I’m not sure how much longer you can stay with us.”
“Oh,” says Donghae.
“It’s just,” Heechul continues, “it’s not exactly the world’s biggest flat?” This is true, Kibum’s been there. The three only manage to live together because they are often very close together and so the amount of space doesn’t matter. “And Hankyung’s been kind of annoyed ever since he tripped over your bag in the main room and sprained his wrist?”
“Oh,” says Donghae again, and Heechul pats him on the shoulder. “Oh, okay. I guess I can-”
“You can move in with me,” Kibum says casually.
Donghae and Heechul turn to stare at him. “What?” says Donghae nervously. Kibum shrugs.
“I have loads of space,” he says. “You can stay with me until you’ve found someplace of your own.”
Donghae doesn’t look too sure, but he makes the mistake of glancing towards Heechul, who smirks and says, “That’s perfect!” He claps Donghae on the shoulder, and judging by the rather scared expression on Donghae’s face, he knows that he will be out of Heechul’s flat by that night.
“Also, it means we get to have sex again,” Heechul say thoughtfully. Donghae is actually out of the flat and moving into Kibum’s within three hours.
Donghae, it turns out, doesn’t own a lot of things, and when he has finished unpacking, his wardrobe is only half full, and there are few personal possession scattered around the room. Kibum raises an eyebrow at it, and brings up the subject later on as they watch television. Donghae, it seems, is a little on edge.
“It’s none of your business,” he says, eyes focused on the television.
Kibum shrugs. “I was just wondering,” he says. “I mean, I thought you were part of a dance group. How come you don’t have any money?”
Donghae laughs. “A dance group,” he says. “The managers screwed us over, like so many of them do.”
“Hey,” says Kibum, annoyed, but Donghae gets in there before he can lodge his protest.
“I’ll admit that your company seems different,” he says. “But do you see now why I was loath to join in the first place?” He screws his face up. “The call of money will make us do anything, I guess.”
Kibum is silent.
Kibum is used to his life going exactly the way that he wants it to. What he is not used to is surprises and horrible moments when he is out of his depth and completely uncertain as to what to do. He is never usually in these circumstances; he doesn’t know how to react.
“W-what?” he stutters, staring a little.
“If you’re going out,” Stephanie repeats, folding her arms and looks coolly at them, “kiss.”
Kibum is lost for words for the very first time in his (admittedly rather short) life. He turns helplessly towards Donghae, who blinks back at him. Stephanie is tapping her foot in impatience. Kibum is on the verge of proposing to her right there and then in order to stop his lie from getting out when Donghae rolls his eyes, grasps him by the collar, and pulls him towards him and kisses him.
Kibum panics some more. He tries, desperately, to make it look convincing, and finds that it’s not that hard, to be honest, because Donghae is a surprisingly good kisser, and when Donghae’s fingers brush across the skin of his throat, Kibum’s mind fizzes to a halt.
Donghae pulls away and grins at Stephanie, who looks a little disgusted, and also slightly in awe. “Okay,” she says. “Okay,” and she walks away, bag swinging from her arm.
Donghae turns to look at him; Kibum’s mind is still firmly in the ‘off’ position. “Hey, can we go shopping now?” Donghae asks eagerly.
“Y-you!” splutters Kibum.
“Yay,” says Donghae, and drags him to his car.
Donghae refuses to even look at the many suits that he could have, and instead bounds over to the racks of designer jeans, rifling through them looking like a child in a candy store. Kibum follows slowly behind, part of his mind trying to not over think that kiss, the other part focusing on not feeling like a sugar daddy or something.
“So I can have anything?” Donghae asks suddenly. Kibum jumps a little.
“Yeah,” he says. “Anything you like. Just – something that looks nice and expensive.”
Kibum calls an assistant over to help Donghae pick something that will look good, not quite trusting the boy with his own clothing. She gets rather giggly, laughing at every single one of Donghae’s jokes, and Kibum watches with a scowl that he isn’t aware is on his face. So many outfits are rejected by the two of them that Kibum begins to think that they aren’t going to get anything and in the end he goes upstairs to the cafeteria to get himself some coffee because he feels like he will be here for the remainder of the week.
When he comes back, Donghae is posing thoughtfully in front of one of the mirrors, and Kibum’s mind fizzes to a halt for the second time that day. He drags his eyes over black denim and the tight three-quarter sleeved shirt; dips down to expensive black leather shoes and up to the leather band around Donghae’s wrist; and swallows.
“Hey,” says Donghae, grinning at him over his shoulder. “Looks good, right?”
“Yeah,” says Kibum, and clears his throat. “If you like that sort of thing.”
Donghae reaches to the side and pulls a black vest top from one of the racks. “You should get this,” he tells Kibum. “You have really hot arms.”
Kibum chokes on his own tongue.
He forgets so easily that he is living with someone that it really makes him wonder as to whether he is quite as clever as a) he claims he is and b) everyone else claims he is. Only pure stupidity could have caused him to forget, for example, that Donghae always took a shower at seven pm, and to just walk into the bathroom without even knocking.
Donghae stares at him through the glass of the shower, horrified, and Kibum stammers out an apology and leaves the room as quickly as he can. He storms down the hallways, pulling his tie from his neck and undoing the buttons on his shirt, slams his bedroom door and flops down on his bed; it is only that he realises that in the short time he was in the bathroom, he has managed to memorize the journey of one of the drops of water than had been running down Donghae’s body.
This is rather worrying, he thinks, as the drop runs over Donghae’s collarbone. All this fixating on Donghae’s body, it’s not normal, even if he does have very long legs and a fucking stupid grin and golden skin that looks fucking gorgeous wet – fuck as the drop runs down over Donghae’s hip and down the inside of his thigh and Kibum realises that he’s horny as hell.
He tips his head back over the side of the bed and groans, and then slips a hand beneath his slacks. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
After a while, it stops being a curse and becomes a moan.
“Hyung.” Kibum broaches the subject when he’s more than a little drunk. “Can I ask you something?”
“Is this going to be, where do babies come from?” Heechul asks – he is more than a little drunk as well. “Because, fuck, Kibum, you know better than I do about that question.”
“No,” says Kibum, as Hankyung murmurs in drunken Chinese into Siwon’s neck. “No, it’s just – when did you know?”
“Know what?” Heechul asks, and then seems to get it when Kibum opens his mouth. “If you say something like, swing for the other team, I am going to take this bottle, smash it and shove it through your heart.”
Kibum doesn’t say that, because there is a high likelihood of Heechul doing just that. “No,” he says. “Well, yes.”
“I’m not having this conversation,” Heechul says. “It’s so awkward. Let’s just leave it at this – I had two hot boys willing to have sex with me. How on earth was I supposed to say no?”
“Ha,” Kibum says, and casts his eye over the dance floor.
“See someone you like?” Heechul asks casually, fingers curled into the material of Hankyung’s thin black jumper. To be honest, Kibum hasn’t seen anyone he liked for the past three weeks, not since Donghae moved in, but he doesn’t want to think about that, and so he just shrugs and stands up.
He falls into bed with a girl wearing far too much make-up and far too few clothes, who clutches him to her, and when he wakes in the morning it’s with a sudden clarification of what he’s just done. Without the make-up, without the cover to make her seem more attractive to people like him, who promise to give her the world and give her nothing but a night’s almost-pleasure, she is beautiful. It’s like someone’s just punched him in the stomach.
He gets out of the bed and pulls on the closest pants he can find and stumbles into the kitchen. Donghae is sitting at the table, and his chopsticks pause on their way to his mouth when Kibum comes in; he glances at him coolly and then resumes, ignores Kibum as he makes himself some coffee.
“I’ve had an epiphany,” Kibum says.
“Is that what last night was?” Donghae asks coldly. “An epiphany?”
Kibum hesitates. “You – heard?”
“I think,” Donghae bites out, “the whole apartment block heard.”
“Ah,” Kibum says. “No, I-”
The girl comes in then, stumbling in with her dress from the night before pulled on, and the rest of Kibum’s morning is taken up making sure that she no longer remembers his name, that she has all of her clothes, that there is no reason for her to come back, and getting her into a taxi. When Kibum comes back, Donghae has already gone to the company for training.
“I’m trying to be a nice person,” Kibum says, tapping his foot against the pavement impatiently.
“What?” Donghae says. “You mean nice people don’t lure girls into bed with the promise of riches?”
Kibum glares at him. “You,” he says. “I know you don’t like me, but I still pay your wages, okay?”
Donghae falls silent and looks down at the pavement. Kibum glances away, because otherwise he will fall victim to that awful illness which is making him stare at Donghae at every given moment, especially now that Donghae has just had a hair cut. Actually, that is a good excuse for staring. He glances back, and realises that his date for the night is coming towards them.
He greets her formally, as Donghae lurks in the background, and then says, “I’m happy to take you out for dinner, to thank you for coming, but I have to let you know that I am not interested in marriage.”
The girl blinks. “What?” she asks, looking confused.
“This date,” Kibum says. “It’s been set up, and I have no intention of marrying you, or anyone else, at this point in time. However, you’ve come a long way, and I’m willing to still take you out for dinner.”
He can practically feel Donghae’s incredulous expression boring into his back; he avoids looking at him for fear that it will all collapse around him and his attempt at changing will fall into being a façade that Donghae will see through. He doesn’t want it to become fake.
When he gets back that night, after Donghae went home with his pay for the evening in his hands even though he isn’t needed, Donghae is still awake, sitting unseeingly in front of the television. It flickers in the darkness, and Donghae doesn’t even look at him as he comes in.
“Hi,” says Kibum.
“Where’s your date?” Donghae asks, still not looking at him.
“She’s gone home,” Kibum says, a little confused.
“Hmm,” says Donghae, and turns the television up. Kibum shrugs and goes to his room.
He’s beginning to think that it couldn’t get any more awkward. It’s been one month since he started with trying to change, and although he flirts with everything in a skirt, he hasn’t slept with anyone. It’s like hell, to be honest. No one was made to do this; especially not him. What makes it worse is that Donghae is now trying out a tentative sort of friendship with him, and Kibum is now jerking off every night.
He’s still fairly certain that Donghae thinks that he’s just pretending, still knows that the doubt is floating around in the back of Donghae’s mind, but that just makes him more determined to keep it going. Heechul thinks he’s stupid and ridiculous; Kibum agrees sometimes, knows that it’s stupid to try to change over a new leaf on the basis of your nth one night stand and disapproval by your roommate, but mostly Kibum doesn’t care.
What Kibum cares about is trying now.
“Donghae,” he says, and Donghae pulls himself from his dance to stop in front of him, panting from exertion. “Do you want to come out tonight with us?”
“Huh?” Donghae stares at him. “What do you mean?”
“Tonight,” Kibum says. He can ask out any girl that he likes smoothly and suavely, but asking Donghae to come clubbing with him and the others makes his hands sweat. “We’re going out to the new club that’s just opened to try it out. I was wondering if you’d like to come?”
“Y-yeah.” Donghae looks like he isn’t too sure as to what’s going on; Kibum feels vaguely the same. The feeling only grows when Donghae turns up in one of the new outfits that Kibum bought him, white vest and blue denim, faded in the right places. Kibum finds that he kind of wants to slip his hand into the back pocket of Donghae’s jeans; it takes most of his will power to resist.
It appears that he’s not the only one to have noticed how good Donghae looks; as many girls fly to his side as they do to his own, but Donghae merely smiles and politely pushes past, whereas Kibum stays and flirts – because he can do that, that’s not against the rules, it’s just innocent. Donghae glares at him every time, but then Donghae goes down to the bar and is waylaid by a taller, good-looking man who puts his hand on his shoulder and smiles charmingly at him.
“You look like you’re going to break someone’s face,” Heechul remarks from beside him, not really paying attention but noting it all the same. Kibum shakes his head, glances away from Donghae, towards the door, and then back again. Donghae is on his way back.
“I thought you were in there,” he says with a grin when Donghae throws himself down next to him.
“Hmmm?” Donghae frowns at him. “I wouldn’t say – that.”
Kibum thinks that maybe they will always be like this. Tentative on his own behalf, unwilling on Donghae’s, and it will never change and he will never know why. The thought is so depressing that he drinks the rest of the contents of Siwon’s glass, and then chokes; he fucking hates whiskey.
“How does he drink that?” he wheezes. “It’s like someone punching you in the back of the throat!”
“Yeah, but it taste nice in the mouth,” Heechul says lazily, and no one is in any doubt as to what he means. “You owe him another drink for when he gets back.”
“Nah,” says Kibum. “I’m going home.”
He doesn’t expect anyone to follow him; the night is still young, after all, and they’ve barely even started by their own standards, but somehow, he can’t work up the energy necessary to do the usual things, to drink and dance and have fun. He doesn’t think anyone will join him, but Donghae does, by slipping into the same taxi without Kibum realising he was there beforehand.
Kibum complains that this was supposed to be a fun night and he just can’t be arsed, and Donghae grins, sly in the streetlights flashing past. “Maybe a lack of sex is sapping the life out of you,” he says.
Kibum jerks a little inside. He’s joking, he realises, Donghae just made a joke in front of him, and Kibum grins back. “Probably,” he says. “It’s not natural to go this long, you know.”
“I manage it,” Donghae says, leaning back a little in his seat.
“I don’t see how,” Kibum says; Donghae’s vest rides up a little, jeans pull low at the heavy belt, and Kibum tears his eyes away to look Donghae in the eye. “You must have plenty of people queuing up.”
“Not really,” Donghae says and then, “But.” He stops and his eyes go a little wide, and then quickly, as if to get it out before he can try to stop himself, “but if you were offering-”
Ah, thinks Kibum, and it is the most awkward silence that he has ever fell victim to, all crushing, all destroying, even as a bubble of want grows inside his chest, as Donghae looks steadfastly out of the window, and then at the doors of the lift, and then he tries to get into the penthouse apartment before Kibum can stop him.
Kibum stops him by spinning him around and shoving him against the door and holding him there by his body. Donghae struggles; Kibum brushes his thumb over his jaw and he shudders and stops. Kibum takes a deep breath and leans in.
“This is me offering,” he says softly, and muffles Donghae’s gasp of breath by kissing him. It is easy to do this, easy to fall into the rhythm that they need, while Kibum’s hands fumble with the key and manages to slip it into the lock; they fall through, just keep their balance, and Donghae’s fingers slip into his belt hoops and pull him along to his bedroom.
“Fuck you,” he hisses as he pushes Kibum down onto his bed and straddles him at the hips. “Fuck you and your money and your act. You’re so charming, you can wind everyone around your little finger, and then you had the nerve to try it on me. It works, you know that? It fucking works, and I hate you for it.”
He kisses Kibum hard, biting down on his lip, and it shoots down his spine and makes him moan, and then he’s gasping things out too. “Fuck you too,” he says. “Fuck you and your morals and your righteous indignation.” His shirt is thrown over the side of the bed; his fingers fumble with Donghae’s belt. “Fuck, you’re so set against it you’ve clearly just never done it right.”
Donghae grins, a flash of teeth and mischief that makes Kibum go slightly weak, unable to do anything other than take hold of him by the hips and pull him closer. He thinks that Donghae must be drunker than he previously thought when he murmurs, “Are you going to show me how it’s done, then?”
“Fuck yes,” gasps Kibum, and flips them over, quickly stripping Donghae and kissing down his stomach. He never thought he’d be in this position, Donghae’s leg hooked around his waist and hands clutching at his shoulders, kissing him fiercely to muffle Donghae’s cry of his name. He never - believed - but he is.
He wakes late, and Donghae isn’t there. It’s a vague sort of panic that makes him stumble around his bedroom, pulling on the first pair of pyjama bottoms he can find, and then rushing out of the room and down the corridor to the kitchen.
The coffee is already made, and there’s an empty cup in the sink. Kibum pours himself a cup, because there is silence from the rest of the flat. Perhaps Donghae has gone out already, he is thinking, when the door that he didn’t come through swings open and Donghae steps in, his holdall in hand.
Kibum jumps and the hot coffee spills over and onto his leg. He jumps up, cursing; Donghae drops his case on his foot in shock at seeing him. “I thought you were still in bed,” he says, a little flatly.
“What,” says Kibum. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving,” says Donghae, and bends down and picks up his case. Kibum stares at him. He sighs and leaves the room before Kibum’s mind even processes that he’s moved. He rushes after him and catches hold of his wrist and yanks him back. Donghae drops his case again and tries to pull away from him angrily.
“Why?” Kibum asks desperately.
“You probably don’t even remember last night,” spits Donghae. Kibum gapes at him. “I’ve been told enough times, I’m a moron, but I’m an even bigger moron for – I can’t stay here now.”
“Whoa,” says Kibum. “I don’t - why?”
“I can’t live here, knowing that I was just another one night stand,” Donghae says, and tries desperately to get his wrist free, but Kibum is holding onto him without being aware that he is doing so, too busy staring in shock and disbelief. “It’s like – I’m like all those girls that I felt sorry for, only me – I’m stupid because I know what you’re like.”
“You think,” says Kibum, disconnected and barely coherent. “One night stand – no, I’m.”
He pushes Donghae up against the nearest flat surface and kisses him. It’s one of the windows that run around the side of the room, and Donghae stares at him when he pulls away, and then glances around him and laughs nervously.
“Don’t laugh,” Kibum says in disbelief. “I’m trying to prove something here.”
“Well, hurry up and prove it so I can go,” Donghae says. Kibum sees that his laugh had been an attempt at swallowing the anger that still bubbled underneath the surface. Kibum leans in to kiss him again, and Donghae turns his head to the side to avoid it.
“It’s not a one-night stand,” Kibum murmurs into his ear, as Donghae becomes as tense as he was the first time Kibum put his arms around him, “if you do it a second time.”
Donghae’s head shoots around and it’s easy to kiss him; he falls into it with a frantic fervour, like he can’t stop himself from wanting it. Kibum slips Donghae’s jacket from his shoulders slowly, and pulls away. Donghae glares at him, and Kibum smirks and slides his hands down over the material covering Donghae’s stomach and kneels and deftly undoes the buttons of Donghae’s jeans.
Donghae’s head falls back against the cool glass of the window as he gasps out Kibum’s name and thrusts into his mouth. His fingers twist painfully in Kibum’s hair. Kibum reflects rather smugly that even though he is fairly new to this sort of thing, he’s still good at it. Donghae comes with a curse and Kibum wipes at his mouth and stands up. Donghae closes his eyes and jumps when Kibum murmurs in his ear again.
“So,” he says. “What is it if you do it a third time?”
Donghae’s eyes open slowly, hooded and dark. He grins. He gets it, now, and Kibum laughs and pulls him by the hand back into his bedroom.
“You know,” says Kibum, flipping his mobile phone open and closed again rapidly, a habit that made Heechul want to saw his hands off. “If you’re going to actually be my boyfriend, you should certainly look like you deserve to be it.”
Donghae glances down at his black jogging bottoms and his white vest top and then looks back at Kibum with a raised eyebrow. “I’m dancing,” he says. “I can’t be perfectly dressed when I’m dancing.”
Kibum grins a little bit. “At the very least,” he says, “they could be designer.”
“Who do you think I am?” Donghae shoots back. “You.”
“You wish you were,” Kibum says smoothly.
“I take it from this,” Donghae says, hitching himself up onto the nearest table, “that we’re going shopping tonight? Does this mean I get to spend your money?”
“Please do,” says Kibum, stepping in between his legs to kiss him. “I have far too much of it anyway.”
Zhou Mi, sitting at a nearby table, nudges Kyuhyun. “Why can’t you be my sugar daddy?” He asks.
Kyuhyun snorts. “You make the same amount of money as me,” he says. “And I already pay for your subscription so you can watch your girly dramas.”
“But-” begins Zhou Mi.
“And I learn that stupid Chinese song for you,” Kyuhyun adds.
“And,” says Kyuhyun, leaning in slightly to grin at him. “There are plenty of ways to have fun without spending money.”
Zhou Mi stares at him, then his eyes go wide and he says, a little frantically, “I think there’s a music room free.”