Fic: Scalding
Dec. 24th, 2012 09:34 pmTitle: Scalding
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Xiumin-centric, Chen/Xiumin
Genre: Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Length: Oneshot, 2000 words
Summary: Xiumin brings Chen hot chocolate, and somehow both of them get burnt.
Minseok has long since accepted that the amount of time he spends in the recording studio actually recording lines is absolutely minuscule -- negligible, even, in comparison to the other members of his unit. Although the fact had been difficult to swallow at first -- not unlike a spoonful of artificially flavored cough medicine, the kind he used to choke down with a sour face -- the bitterness had been tempered ages ago by the knowledge that at least the long uncertain days of his training period were finally over, as well as his natural disposition. There are other ways to make himself useful after all, both on-stage and off.
"Here you go," he says, handing off a warm styrofoam cup to Jongdae. It's far too chilly in the studio's empty control room, the brush of Jongdae's fingers against his own shockingly cold, but the heat from the cup spreads quickly from their fingertips and the steam from the drink billows comfortingly into their faces.
Jongdae's nose twitches like a rabbit's as he takes a long, exaggerated whiff. "How do I know you're not trying to poison me so you can take my position?" he jokes as he uses his free hand to massage his throat. With two slender fingers, he rubs tiny circles around his Adam's apple. Minseok remembers when his own fingers had been pressed again Jongdae's throat. They practically twitch at the memory of warm skin underneath the pads of his fingertips, absorbing every vibration that had accompanied Jongdae's voice.
He quickly shoves them into his pocket before Jongdae can notice.
"Even if I knocked you off, they still wouldn't give me your lines," Minseok laughs, his chest warming as Jongdae laughs along with him, "not with my god-awful Mandarin."
Jongdae groans, twisting past Minseok and slumping down so heavily onto the control room's couch, the leather squeaks and his legs dangle in the air for a fraction of a second. The couch is rather small, pressed against the back wall and littered with everyone's stuff -- Tao's leopard-spotted jacket, Kris's immaculate pea coat, Lu Han and Yixing's matching backpacks -- but there's just enough room for Jongdae to stretch out like the couch hog he is.
"Do not even bring up Mandarin, please," he moans miserably, "I was in that studio for hours, I swear. That ajusshi was all 'Chen, that's not the right tone. Chen, your words are slurring together. Chen--'"
"Why are you such a big baby?" Minseok adds, smiling even when Jongdae tries to glare at him accusingly. At least he leaves out the fact that Jongdae was only in the live room for fifty-five minutes. That would have been unhelpful, as amusing as Jongdae's expression probably would have been in response.
"Worst hyung in the world," Jongdae mutters, clasping both hands around his styrofoam cup and pouting at his drink, "even if you did bring me... Wait, is this hot chocolate? This is hot chocolate, right?"
It feels less like a guess and more like Jongdae is fishing for some sort of affirmation, for some sort of approval. Minseok can understand the sentiment though, having wasted twenty minutes in the recording booth himself trying to properly enunciate what was probably amounted to only thirty seconds' worth of lines and walking out with an unhealthy urge to headbutt the seemingly insatiable producer through the plexiglass window.
So Minseok nods encouragingly, reassuringly -- maybe a little over-indulgently. It's worth it though, when Jongdae's pout gives way to a bright, toothy smile that makes Minseok's hands clench in his pockets.
"Be careful," he says quietly, redirecting his gaze to the design of the cup. Tiny white reindeer peek out from behind Jongdae's fingers, frozen in place as they prance through a snowflake-speckled sea of bright, cheery red. They remind him of Lu Han, right down to the trickster smiles on their deceptively adorable faces. "It's still pretty hot, so you'd better drink slowly."
Jongdae hums in acknowledgement, the noise rising naturally from his throat like one of his vibratos. He's obviously not listening though -- Minseok gathers that much when he actually tries to slurp his drink.
As expected, he burns himself. Burns his tongue, Minseok's brain supplies unhelpfully. He decides that the initial impulse of offering to cool it down by sucking on it is probably the dumbest idea he's had since the time he agreed to let Lu Han come up with a nickname for him at their debut showcase without bothering to ask what that nickname was going to be in the first place.
"Should I get you some water?" he asks instead, leaning closer and already reaching out for Jongdae's cup.
Frantically, Jongdae shakes his head, even as he continues coughing in Minseok's face like it's his life's goal is to transfer every single one of his germs to Minseok. He holds his cup further away from Minseok's outstretched hand, taking advantage of the few annoying centimeters he has over Minseok to keep it out of the other's grasp.
"Aym guhd, hungh," he garbles, the words muffled by how he's keeping his scalded tongue sticking out of his mouth. He fans it with his free hand and looks every bit the idiot he is, Minseok thinks affectionately.
"Right. I'll just get some for you anyway."
The walk to the vending machine down the hallway and back doesn't take too long, even when Minseok stops to update Kris and Lu Han on Jongdae's situation when he passes by them near the bathroom. They all collectively chuckle for a few minutes at Jongdae's expense before he continues back to the recording studio at a lazy pace.
"I don't think the producer will mind a longer break," Kris calls out after him, his low voice echoing through the corridor. He's already pulling out his phone to report to their managers, "We're already behind schedule anyway. Just ice Chenchen's tongue and he'll be fine."
Lu Han snickers behind his hand as he adds, "And make sure to tell him to watch where he puts his tongue next time!"
Minseok pretends he didn't hear that last part, that he didn't see Lu Han's infuriating wink. Instead he focuses on the crinkling of the water bottle within his tight grip. It's cold, but not nearly as much as Jongdae's fingers had felt earlier.
"Hungh, yar bahack!"
He looks up and finds himself back in the control room, Jongdae still sprawled out on the only free spot on the couch, his head drooped against the back of his seat and his tongue hanging out. The cup of hot chocolate in his hand is still steaming, but it's obviously cooled down some while Minseok was away. If it weren't for the tongue and Jongdae's dumb expression, the sight would have looked like something out of one of Minseok's daydreams, or at least one of Exo's better photoshoots.
"Here you go," Minseok says once again, exchanging the water bottle for Jongdae's hot chocolate. He watches with a wide smile as Jongdae frantically twists the cap off of the bottle and proceeds to chug the water so carelessly, droplets of it fall on his ridiculously cartoonish Christmas sweater -- a present from Joonmyun, Minseok figures, based off of the tacky pattern -- instead of into his mouth. However, Minseok's smile slowly starts to fade as his eyes fasten themselves onto Jongdae's Adam's apple; it bobs with each gulp, and Minseok accidentally finds himself swallowing in sync with it.
Abruptly, he turns and walks back to the studio's door, quietly shutting it. His fingers are still wet from holding the water bottle and linger around the handle, clasping it tightly. He takes a long, deep, calming breath before he slowly lets go.
"Thanks, hyung," he hears from behind him, and he tries not to imagine how Jongdae looks, panting heavily as he takes in air rather than water. His legs spread on the couch, his head thrown back as he swallows one last time.
Fuck. Fuck.
"Hyung? Come sit with me!"
Minseok turns around as casually as he can, walking back over to the couch but standing a good foot away. "I don't think so. I kinda like looking down at you for once, Jongdae-yah." The chuckles he expels from his chest come out hesitant and breathy, but Jongdae doesn't seem to notice as he looks up at Minseok, his sharp features looking remarkably soft and tender for once. "Besides, it's not like there's enough room for my ass, what with yours taking up so much space."
Jongdae's lips curve into a pout, and much to Minseok's relief, he finally closes his legs. The relief is short-lived, however, when he realizes Jongdae is patting one of his thighs welcomingly.
"Just sit in my lap, hyung," Jongdae says cheekily, "plenty of room here!"
Minseok stares at him in disbelief, before abruptly scanning the room for a sign of, well, anything. A hidden camera on the other side of the plexiglass, an open laptop with a functional webcam at the producer's workstation, Chanyeol's wide uneven eyes and disconcerting grin gleaming down at him from one of the room's dark corners.
This can't be happening. There has to be a catch.
Jongdae rolls his eyes, finally reaching over and wrapping his hand around Minseok's wrist so he can clumsily pull Minseok into his lap. His thighs don't provide much cushioning, if only because they're so firm, but Minseok doesn't think that's the problem. Well, it's one of the problems, just not his main one at the moment.
"Watch it, the hot chocolate!" he yelps, holding the cup as far away from their bodies as he can manage. Miraculously, not a single drop spills onto the carpet, the couch, or either of them. Minseok desperately hopes that that tiny feat didn't use all of his luck, because he's going to need a lot more of it to deal with Jongdae.
"Oh yeah," Jongdae hums, his arms wrapping around Minseok's torso naturally and trapping him in his lap. He pulls him closer and plants his chin on Minseok's shoulder, breathing far too close to his ear. "Has it cooled down? Is it okay to try it now, hyung?"
The 'hyung' is dragged out, long and easy and lazy. It echoes in Minseok's ear, just as much a taunt as the warmth of Jongdae's chest against his back, as Jongdae's fingers laced together and resting on top of his stomach.
"Let me try it first," Minseok says with a soft, quiet exhale. Bringing the rim of the cup to his lips, he blows lightly across the surface of the hot chocolate and watches as tiny brown waves form. He tips the cup slightly, sipping at the hot chocolate as it reaches the edge of the cup.
The chocolate flavor is on the verge of overwhelming without any marshmallows to temper it, but better that than exceedingly watery. The sweetness sticks to his tongue even as the drink slides down his throat, and he finds himself smiling in pure contentment. Over all, the drink is a bit too sweet for him, but perfectly warm. It's hard to imagine something so delicious had scalded Jongdae's tongue the way it had earlier.
Or maybe it's not so hard, Minseok thinks when he feels the gentle press of cool lips against the side of his neck. The shivers that go down his spine have nothing to do with SM's refusal to turn up the thermostats in their recording studios and everything to do with the way he feels Jongdae's lips curl up into that familiar cat-like smile. The one Minseok sees whenever he rewatches their appearances on television programs, whenever he scrolls through the photo gallery on his cellphone, whenever he closes his eyes and slips into a dream and finds Jongdae beaming back at him in a way that could never match reality.
As Minseok's fingers intertwine with Jongdae's, the skin at the side of his neck burns, deliciously so.
Prompt: "now who's going to write me xiuchen cuddling on the couch and drinking cocoa together?" and this photo of Xiumin sitting on Chen's lap.
Author's Note: Haven't finished anything in a while, so I'm probably rusty. Inspired by the slew of Xiuchen pics and gifs I've been seeing lately, which I feel I should blame![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
staygame for. Anyway, maybe this will finally mean the end of all of my Exo-related dreams, I've had five in a row now lol. Oh yeah, since no one else really reads my dw and I don't really plan on posting anywhere else, I guess that means this can be solely dedicated to Boss lmao. Merry Christmas, darling Boss, and may we be blessed in the new year with more Xiuchen.
Fandom: Exo
Focus: Xiumin-centric, Chen/Xiumin
Genre: Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Length: Oneshot, 2000 words
Summary: Xiumin brings Chen hot chocolate, and somehow both of them get burnt.
Minseok has long since accepted that the amount of time he spends in the recording studio actually recording lines is absolutely minuscule -- negligible, even, in comparison to the other members of his unit. Although the fact had been difficult to swallow at first -- not unlike a spoonful of artificially flavored cough medicine, the kind he used to choke down with a sour face -- the bitterness had been tempered ages ago by the knowledge that at least the long uncertain days of his training period were finally over, as well as his natural disposition. There are other ways to make himself useful after all, both on-stage and off.
"Here you go," he says, handing off a warm styrofoam cup to Jongdae. It's far too chilly in the studio's empty control room, the brush of Jongdae's fingers against his own shockingly cold, but the heat from the cup spreads quickly from their fingertips and the steam from the drink billows comfortingly into their faces.
Jongdae's nose twitches like a rabbit's as he takes a long, exaggerated whiff. "How do I know you're not trying to poison me so you can take my position?" he jokes as he uses his free hand to massage his throat. With two slender fingers, he rubs tiny circles around his Adam's apple. Minseok remembers when his own fingers had been pressed again Jongdae's throat. They practically twitch at the memory of warm skin underneath the pads of his fingertips, absorbing every vibration that had accompanied Jongdae's voice.
He quickly shoves them into his pocket before Jongdae can notice.
"Even if I knocked you off, they still wouldn't give me your lines," Minseok laughs, his chest warming as Jongdae laughs along with him, "not with my god-awful Mandarin."
Jongdae groans, twisting past Minseok and slumping down so heavily onto the control room's couch, the leather squeaks and his legs dangle in the air for a fraction of a second. The couch is rather small, pressed against the back wall and littered with everyone's stuff -- Tao's leopard-spotted jacket, Kris's immaculate pea coat, Lu Han and Yixing's matching backpacks -- but there's just enough room for Jongdae to stretch out like the couch hog he is.
"Do not even bring up Mandarin, please," he moans miserably, "I was in that studio for hours, I swear. That ajusshi was all 'Chen, that's not the right tone. Chen, your words are slurring together. Chen--'"
"Why are you such a big baby?" Minseok adds, smiling even when Jongdae tries to glare at him accusingly. At least he leaves out the fact that Jongdae was only in the live room for fifty-five minutes. That would have been unhelpful, as amusing as Jongdae's expression probably would have been in response.
"Worst hyung in the world," Jongdae mutters, clasping both hands around his styrofoam cup and pouting at his drink, "even if you did bring me... Wait, is this hot chocolate? This is hot chocolate, right?"
It feels less like a guess and more like Jongdae is fishing for some sort of affirmation, for some sort of approval. Minseok can understand the sentiment though, having wasted twenty minutes in the recording booth himself trying to properly enunciate what was probably amounted to only thirty seconds' worth of lines and walking out with an unhealthy urge to headbutt the seemingly insatiable producer through the plexiglass window.
So Minseok nods encouragingly, reassuringly -- maybe a little over-indulgently. It's worth it though, when Jongdae's pout gives way to a bright, toothy smile that makes Minseok's hands clench in his pockets.
"Be careful," he says quietly, redirecting his gaze to the design of the cup. Tiny white reindeer peek out from behind Jongdae's fingers, frozen in place as they prance through a snowflake-speckled sea of bright, cheery red. They remind him of Lu Han, right down to the trickster smiles on their deceptively adorable faces. "It's still pretty hot, so you'd better drink slowly."
Jongdae hums in acknowledgement, the noise rising naturally from his throat like one of his vibratos. He's obviously not listening though -- Minseok gathers that much when he actually tries to slurp his drink.
As expected, he burns himself. Burns his tongue, Minseok's brain supplies unhelpfully. He decides that the initial impulse of offering to cool it down by sucking on it is probably the dumbest idea he's had since the time he agreed to let Lu Han come up with a nickname for him at their debut showcase without bothering to ask what that nickname was going to be in the first place.
"Should I get you some water?" he asks instead, leaning closer and already reaching out for Jongdae's cup.
Frantically, Jongdae shakes his head, even as he continues coughing in Minseok's face like it's his life's goal is to transfer every single one of his germs to Minseok. He holds his cup further away from Minseok's outstretched hand, taking advantage of the few annoying centimeters he has over Minseok to keep it out of the other's grasp.
"Aym guhd, hungh," he garbles, the words muffled by how he's keeping his scalded tongue sticking out of his mouth. He fans it with his free hand and looks every bit the idiot he is, Minseok thinks affectionately.
"Right. I'll just get some for you anyway."
The walk to the vending machine down the hallway and back doesn't take too long, even when Minseok stops to update Kris and Lu Han on Jongdae's situation when he passes by them near the bathroom. They all collectively chuckle for a few minutes at Jongdae's expense before he continues back to the recording studio at a lazy pace.
"I don't think the producer will mind a longer break," Kris calls out after him, his low voice echoing through the corridor. He's already pulling out his phone to report to their managers, "We're already behind schedule anyway. Just ice Chenchen's tongue and he'll be fine."
Lu Han snickers behind his hand as he adds, "And make sure to tell him to watch where he puts his tongue next time!"
Minseok pretends he didn't hear that last part, that he didn't see Lu Han's infuriating wink. Instead he focuses on the crinkling of the water bottle within his tight grip. It's cold, but not nearly as much as Jongdae's fingers had felt earlier.
"Hungh, yar bahack!"
He looks up and finds himself back in the control room, Jongdae still sprawled out on the only free spot on the couch, his head drooped against the back of his seat and his tongue hanging out. The cup of hot chocolate in his hand is still steaming, but it's obviously cooled down some while Minseok was away. If it weren't for the tongue and Jongdae's dumb expression, the sight would have looked like something out of one of Minseok's daydreams, or at least one of Exo's better photoshoots.
"Here you go," Minseok says once again, exchanging the water bottle for Jongdae's hot chocolate. He watches with a wide smile as Jongdae frantically twists the cap off of the bottle and proceeds to chug the water so carelessly, droplets of it fall on his ridiculously cartoonish Christmas sweater -- a present from Joonmyun, Minseok figures, based off of the tacky pattern -- instead of into his mouth. However, Minseok's smile slowly starts to fade as his eyes fasten themselves onto Jongdae's Adam's apple; it bobs with each gulp, and Minseok accidentally finds himself swallowing in sync with it.
Abruptly, he turns and walks back to the studio's door, quietly shutting it. His fingers are still wet from holding the water bottle and linger around the handle, clasping it tightly. He takes a long, deep, calming breath before he slowly lets go.
"Thanks, hyung," he hears from behind him, and he tries not to imagine how Jongdae looks, panting heavily as he takes in air rather than water. His legs spread on the couch, his head thrown back as he swallows one last time.
Fuck. Fuck.
"Hyung? Come sit with me!"
Minseok turns around as casually as he can, walking back over to the couch but standing a good foot away. "I don't think so. I kinda like looking down at you for once, Jongdae-yah." The chuckles he expels from his chest come out hesitant and breathy, but Jongdae doesn't seem to notice as he looks up at Minseok, his sharp features looking remarkably soft and tender for once. "Besides, it's not like there's enough room for my ass, what with yours taking up so much space."
Jongdae's lips curve into a pout, and much to Minseok's relief, he finally closes his legs. The relief is short-lived, however, when he realizes Jongdae is patting one of his thighs welcomingly.
"Just sit in my lap, hyung," Jongdae says cheekily, "plenty of room here!"
Minseok stares at him in disbelief, before abruptly scanning the room for a sign of, well, anything. A hidden camera on the other side of the plexiglass, an open laptop with a functional webcam at the producer's workstation, Chanyeol's wide uneven eyes and disconcerting grin gleaming down at him from one of the room's dark corners.
This can't be happening. There has to be a catch.
Jongdae rolls his eyes, finally reaching over and wrapping his hand around Minseok's wrist so he can clumsily pull Minseok into his lap. His thighs don't provide much cushioning, if only because they're so firm, but Minseok doesn't think that's the problem. Well, it's one of the problems, just not his main one at the moment.
"Watch it, the hot chocolate!" he yelps, holding the cup as far away from their bodies as he can manage. Miraculously, not a single drop spills onto the carpet, the couch, or either of them. Minseok desperately hopes that that tiny feat didn't use all of his luck, because he's going to need a lot more of it to deal with Jongdae.
"Oh yeah," Jongdae hums, his arms wrapping around Minseok's torso naturally and trapping him in his lap. He pulls him closer and plants his chin on Minseok's shoulder, breathing far too close to his ear. "Has it cooled down? Is it okay to try it now, hyung?"
The 'hyung' is dragged out, long and easy and lazy. It echoes in Minseok's ear, just as much a taunt as the warmth of Jongdae's chest against his back, as Jongdae's fingers laced together and resting on top of his stomach.
"Let me try it first," Minseok says with a soft, quiet exhale. Bringing the rim of the cup to his lips, he blows lightly across the surface of the hot chocolate and watches as tiny brown waves form. He tips the cup slightly, sipping at the hot chocolate as it reaches the edge of the cup.
The chocolate flavor is on the verge of overwhelming without any marshmallows to temper it, but better that than exceedingly watery. The sweetness sticks to his tongue even as the drink slides down his throat, and he finds himself smiling in pure contentment. Over all, the drink is a bit too sweet for him, but perfectly warm. It's hard to imagine something so delicious had scalded Jongdae's tongue the way it had earlier.
Or maybe it's not so hard, Minseok thinks when he feels the gentle press of cool lips against the side of his neck. The shivers that go down his spine have nothing to do with SM's refusal to turn up the thermostats in their recording studios and everything to do with the way he feels Jongdae's lips curl up into that familiar cat-like smile. The one Minseok sees whenever he rewatches their appearances on television programs, whenever he scrolls through the photo gallery on his cellphone, whenever he closes his eyes and slips into a dream and finds Jongdae beaming back at him in a way that could never match reality.
As Minseok's fingers intertwine with Jongdae's, the skin at the side of his neck burns, deliciously so.
Prompt: "now who's going to write me xiuchen cuddling on the couch and drinking cocoa together?" and this photo of Xiumin sitting on Chen's lap.
Author's Note: Haven't finished anything in a while, so I'm probably rusty. Inspired by the slew of Xiuchen pics and gifs I've been seeing lately, which I feel I should blame
staygame for. Anyway, maybe this will finally mean the end of all of my Exo-related dreams, I've had five in a row now lol. Oh yeah, since no one else really reads my dw and I don't really plan on posting anywhere else, I guess that means this can be solely dedicated to Boss lmao. Merry Christmas, darling Boss, and may we be blessed in the new year with more Xiuchen.
