Word Count: 1 279
Notes: Hooker!verse. It has been ages, but I there has been more chat and plot-building so, um, yeah. Dedicated to my darling lovelysilver19 for her birthday; may you have a wonderful one~
When Kibum calls him into the office, Eeteuk was quite sure it
was going to be about Kangin, him, and being asked (demanded,
told) to end it all now before it gets past puppy-love. He’s
been subtle, and careful, and thought perhaps the awkward bliss
the quasi-relationship he had with Kangin would be able to last just
a little bit longer, but as he opened the door, he automatically preps
himself for the pain of abandoning yet another part of his personal
life for the sake of his job.
He doesn’t let his shock show when Kibum doesn’t looks him in the
eyes and doesn’t ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, doesn’t
ask him to end his relationship;
“You need to say away for a while,” he says instead, calmly filling out
the usual paperwork that neatly clutters his desk. “There are some things
that need to be sorted out,” (Kibum spits the last few words out with
distain before composing himself.) “It’ll be the best for all of us right now.”
“I’m fired then, am I,” he states. Kibum sighs and nods, finally looking up.
“For now. Go stay with the puppy you’ve got following you; Kangin- I’m
sure he’ll be able to help you out until I can bring you back. Think of it as
a vacation leave.”
His voice was soft, but Eeteuk could hear the anger in his voice, the conflict
on the younger man’s face for once so evident though none of this was of
“You have my cell number,” Eeteuk mutters coldly as he turns on his feet,
stalking towards the door with a bitter smile on his lips. “Call me when
Yesung fucks everything up.”
“I left a horrendously boring meeting for this, you know.” Kangin’s eyes
crinkle as he smiles and sips at his drink, the foam of the latte coating his lips.
“And I’m horrendously aggrieved for pulling you from it,” he drawls,
watching the way Kangin’s tongue peeks out to clean his lips. “But truthfully,
I’ve got something to ask of you.”
“Anything, you know, all you have to do is ask.” Kangin mumbles as he takes
another sip, eyes darting down to the pendant that lay delicately against
Eeteuk’s chest and back up again.
“I’ve been kicked out of the club.”
Kangin sputters, choking on the sip he’d taken half a second before.
Eeteuk lets himself smile at the sight, hand already extended with a
napkin between his fingers.
“What the hell happened? How the can they do that?” Kangin hurriedly
wipes his lips, and Eeteuk takes a slight bit of pride at how incredulous
the younger man is acting on his behalf. “If you’ve been kicked out,
where on earth are you going to stay?”
Eeteuk offers an unhappy half smile, and toys with the cross around his
“I had been hoping you would be able to help me out with that last question.”
The apartment is vast, bright, and inviting, the furniture is tasteful while the
walls are soft earthy shades that reflect the early afternoon light coming
from the floor to ceiling windows. Eeteuk places his bag on the glass front
table, before walking fully into the living room.
“I… it’s kind of drab. I didn’t choose it,” Kangin mumbles sheepishly,
blush coming to his cheeks. He nervously toys with one of the colourful
flowers sitting prettily on the table next to him. Kangin’s blush deepens
when he glances up to find Eeteuk watching him. “It’s too beige.”
Eeteuk laughs at the absurdity of the situation he’s found himself in
(discussing décor of all things, with a man whose charity he now relied on,
who followed him around like a puppy, whom he had sold sex to); his
laugh turns bitter by the though of what can happen when one little person
came into his well planned out life.
“This is ridiculous.” Kangin looks slightly embarrassed, not meeting
Eeteuk’s eyes, and he almost laughs out again at the misunderstanding.
“I’m not talking about your apartment, Kangin.”
Not really knowing what to say, the younger flashes him a sympathetic half
grin and takes him on a tour.
“So, this is the guest room and um, where you’ll be staying,” Kangin mumbles,
the flush from earlier still tinting his cheeks as he clicks on the light.
The rooms decidedly bigger, and brighter, than his place at the Club, though
the bed is the same size (his mind always flitting back towards work), and
he can’t help himself from taking the opening to tease the boy.
“Not with you?” he purrs, steps taken with slow, deliberate care. He lets his
fingers rest gracefully on Kangin’s cheeks, the pads of each finger hardly a
ghost of a touch. Tilting his own head just a fraction to the right so that he’s
looking up through his lashes, he lets the tip of his tongue peek out to wet
his lips carefully. He drops his tone to a dark whisper, only a hairs breath
away from Kangin’s own lips: “Are you sure, Kangin?”
Kangin gulps and tilts his own head, slowing coming closer.
“Youngoon,” he breathes, his lips closing the gap between them for only
“Wait,” Eeteuk exclaims, pushing away letting his charm slip away for a
“I… that… my name?” Kangin stumbles over his words, panic slowly
building at the blank look he was receiving. “I didn’t use my real name at
the club because, well, that is, you know, I-”
“Yoongoon,” he tests, the syllables running like honey from his lips. Kangin
gulps a little as Eeteuk closes the distance again. “I like the sound of it.”
His phone rings somewhere near three am, and he scrambles to grab
something (anything) from the closet to slip on as he snaps the phone open.
“So, how’s domestic life going? Are you already his ‘little miss,’ hmm?”
“Fuck you, Heechul,” he hisses into the receiver, a quick glance over his
shoulder to see the sleeping man is still doing exactly that. “Why the hell are
you calling me?”
“I’ve gotten my hands on some lovely information that you just
maybe, perhaps, would like to know about.”
“I knew I kept you for a reason.”
“That’s what the all say,” Heechul cries before the line goes dead in
It’s early the next morning when Eeteuk brings up work again.
“He fired me,” he states, anger now barely lacing his words as he
lets a small sigh fall past his lips, a grim sort of depression coming about
as he thinks of the ordeal as a whole. Kangin’s eyes rise up from the
breakfast he was pushing around his plate to meet his own, mercifully
clear of pity or judgement, filled only with innocent curiosity. “Yesung
waltzes in and suddenly I’ve been cast aside? After all I’ve fucking done
for that place, for all I’ve given up, how dare he even think he co-”
Kangin’s arm stretches out to place a bit of eggs into Eeteuk’s open mouth.
He huffs loudly though his nose, but eats the bite, trying hard not to smile
back at the happy look the boy gives him as he stands up.
“I,” he announces, bending low to kiss Eeteuk deeply on the lips, “Have to
go to work. You should get dressed.” Eeteuk pulls at the too-large neck of
the t-shirt he borrowed (grabbed, in the middle of the night), some top
university emblazoned on his chest. “Call me if you need anything at all,
Eeteuk nods, but knows he won’t be calling; He’s got some extensive
research to focus on, and thankfully far too much time on his hands.