JinxHwoa ficlet for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
justinetre
Apr. 23rd, 2005 03:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
culuyetilleI feel I'm overposting these days, but couldn't help typing this in hopes of cheering up justinetre *huggles*
Title: Start
Author:lorielen
Pairing: Jin x Hwo... heh, because as I’ve explained todead_pen earlier today, Hwo is soooooooo much of a seme. *amused*
Rating: R
Summary: H/C, namely jealousy & fluff. A little alcohol too.
Author Notes: Should fit prompt #60 Drink for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 challenge.
Written based on the jinxhwoa fuel Pen constantly provides me with, posted as an attempt to getjustinetre to smile. *hugs* You’ll show those bastards you’re more than capable, honey.
This little ficlet is, as I’ve said, nothing too complicated. I even fear they’re heavily OOC. They don’t feel like that to me because the way our RP has been developing makes this plausible, but... well I do hope you’ll like it anyway.
Start
Hwoarang grunted as he was pressed against the wall of the lads’ loo belonging to Etherea, one of Tokyo’s hottest nightclubs. The following sounds he made were lost in the damp and very carnal kiss he shared with a guy he’d met like, half an hour ago. The stranger’s hands were roaming all over his well-tone body, setting him on liquid fire that moulded to the male pressing urgently against him, rubbing their denim-clad erections. The red-headed Korean groaned again as a leg was pushed between his own, pressing just so, and the other man’s greedy hands were filled with his arseglobes and pulling him into greater friction.
That was becoming all too fucking familiar.
His thoughts went to Jin, somewhere among the mass of bodies moving to the beat outside. Jin must be dancing, and the evoked mental image made Hwoarang suck viciously on the guy’s tongue as it was shoved down his throat. Jin was disarmingly sexy when he danced, hence Hwoarang often leaving for a drink and a cigarette and accidentally bumping into total strangers who didn’t mind playing tongue-wrestling and groping for a while. Because he couldn’t work up the nerve to approach Jin on the subject and he’d be damned if he’d go home with a raging hard-on and the man who’d caused it snuggling up behind him on his bike, harbouring distressingly friendly feelings.
The guy was working on Hwoarang’s collarbone now, thumbs teasing the Korean’s nipples and he tilted his head back, seeking immersion. Fifth pick-up in two weeks, and the best hands down. The first two’d been female though, so didn’t really count.
Fuck, that was lame and he knew it.
It totally paid off when he heard his trousers being unzipped. He shivered, the shared body heat suddenly faulting because the other man was on his knees, and tingles made it throughout his nerve ends in anticipation, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip. Mild moral dilemma here. Was it acceptable to try and mentally replace the generous stranger’s face with that of a certain Japanese as he received sexual gratification? Jin would be completely oblivious about now, dancing, he was endearing when he danced and it’d taken Hwoarang fucking forever and some alcohol to convince Jin Kazama that it was ok to dance when they went clubbing. The results by far overthrew the efforts though, Jin seemed to really appreciate music and he could attune his body to it in an unique and fascinating way.
Yeah, Hwoarang had a gigantic crush on the guy. It happens.
All of him startled at the feel of a wet kiss planted atop the tip of his cock. Regaining his wits, Hwoarang briskly placed either hand on the man’s shoulders and pushed. He then side-stepped, pulling up his underwear under the male’s astonished stare. He zipped himself up, no easy task, his erection not subsiding.
"Sorry, man. I just..." he ran a hand through his red hair and his face acquired a stern expression as he continued, "can’t do this. I’m hooked."
"Go fuck yourself."
The stranger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust, and Hwoarang shrugged.
"Sorry."
Adrenaline pumped to the beat as he made it out of the loo and into the dance floor. His heart was beating crazily as he acknowledged just what he’d said. He was taken. Beyond his former stud-self, his horror to attachment, he was hopelessly fixated on one Jin Kazama.
He was grinning like fool when he spotted Jin among the crowd. As he neared his friend, he saw a man approach him. The fucker came up and started to dance in front of Jin, obviously trying to hit on him. Bastard. Hwoarang’s eyes were blazes of scathing danger as he walked up behind Jin. The Japanese didn’t seem to mind the complete stranger curtseying him, and from that and the way his body moved, Hwoarang could tell he was tipsy. Great. He boldly took the opportunity to step up behind Jin, encircling his waist with both arms and leaning against him the more boyfriendly he could. All of him tingled but he concentrated in seeming natural.
"I’m back."
He said it loud enough for the third party to hear and get the fucking hint. Jin, ever the surprising tease, moulded against him, limp as a kitty, and Hwoarang couldn’t resist resting his chin on the Karate fighter’s shoulder to glare at the stranger.
"He’s with me."
His voice was calm, his arms possessively around Jin. He felt the fellow fighter’s body stiffen. Crap, what was he doing? His trousers were becoming uncomfortable. When the offender turned away and left, he relaxed his grip.
"Sorry, Jin. Got caught up, I didn’t mean to harass you."
He would have released the dark-haired man but Jin clasped a hand firmly atop his own, keeping them locked together.
"I don’t mind." A new music bounced off the speakers, and Jin started to move. Too much for Hwoarang’s strained nerve ends.
"I just wanted him to leave you alone, I know you don’t fancy that kind of stuff."
He was so tense. One, he knew he’d fucked up because his brain was screaming at him to get the fuck away from Kazama and his renewed erection urged him to do just the contrary. Two, Jin was actually keeping their position and was fucking dancing so very maddeningly close.
"What kind of stuff?"
Hwoarang pondered the best answer for a moment.
"Guys." He decided to go with bluntness.
"Oh." Jin conceded an instant of deliberation to the matter, then nudged the Korean with his shoulder. "You aren’t dancing."
Dancing with very pressing arousal was a spectacularly shitty idea.
"Jin, I think you’re drunk."
"I’m not." A pause during which Hwoarang knew he must be smiling and rolling his eyes. "You’re so allergic to being mistaken."
“How so?” Hwoarang was honestly puzzled.
Jin spun around, still between his arms, and suddenly Hwoarang had the subject of his secret fancy standing much too close, on the reason-shutdown zone. It didn’t help any that Kazama was smiling, amused.
"You assumed I wasn’t into guys."
Oh. Ooh. Ooooooohh. Understanding dawned on Hwoarang and he was so taken by surprise that he couldn’t help hissing when Jin delicately touched his zipper. The little thing made a metallic sound as the Japanese played with it.
"Is this for me?"
The tae-kwon-do ace had to take a step back, as though he’d been heavily punched on the chin. What the fuck was going on with Jin? The other man’s dilated pupils and wavering stance made his question silly. He sighed.
"Jin, you complete shithead, you’re so fucking drunk." He unceremoniously grabbed the other man’s wrist. "I’m taking you home."
He weaved their way through the crowd towards the exit, a scowl on his face. This was so not what he’d been fantasising about. He needed to get a grip on himself, for once he was supposed to be the sane one around. Right. As soon as the cool air of the parking lot greeted them, Jin yanked his hand away and stood, half-glaring at him.
"What?"
Hwoarang didn’t quite snap, he was too damn tired for that. But his patience wasn’t extensive either.
"I’ll admit I have had a little too much to drink."
No shit. Hwoarang grumbled inwardly, that sounded like the preamble for a loooong drunken speech and he really didn’t want to hear it, hell he had enough lecturing when Jin was damn sober, for chrissakes. Before he could act on it, though, the Japanese was at it again.
"But I did it because I had to get the courage to talk to you. Hm I bet that makes me the wanker you keep calling me huh?" He smiled self-deprecatingly.
Hwoarang was frozen on spot, freaking out on the inside. Jin resumed being looking his usual serious self.
"I saw you with that guy with the blue shirt."
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit oooooh fucking hell.
"I also saw the other guy last Thursday."
"Look, Jin--" He couldn’t get an entire sentence.
"And that was really bad because it was you with a guy." Contempt clearly showed in the Karate fighter’s voice.
He’d never known Jin to be homophobic before. His heart sank to the depths of utter hopelessness of his crush ever leading anywhere, the ironic display that had been the zipper trick. He’d missed out on the despise leaking from Jin’s voice then, must’ve been too damn focused with… oh fuck. Jin had stopped talking, apparently too aggravated, but then he took a breath and continued.
"And you didn’t even know them, you were just so accessible."
"Jin--" He was cut short again.
"And you are my friend, a really good friend, you can be unreasonable and petty at times but I care about you a lot."
Hwoarang really feared where this was heading. He might lose Jin’s friendship, a bond he’d worked hard for with a man he treasured, just because he was an easy whor not above instant gratification. And gay. He couldn’t bear to look at Jin in the eye, not sure whether to be indignant or mortified.
"It shouldn’t be so damn hard for me to talk to you, but it was and now I think I had too much to drink and I still can’t find the right words."
A small silence followed, both men breathing slowly, skin caressed by the early hours chill. Carefully, Hwoarang lifted his chin to look at the man he’d been stupid enough to fall in love with. He instinctively winced when Jin brought fingertips to trace strands of russet hair. It ached that a mockery of the very thing he desired should be bestowed on him right before he was kicked out of Jin’s straight life like a flea-bitten dog.
"Hwoarang." A whisper. "Will you kiss me?"
His eyes widened impossibly and he was sure he’d had some major brain fuck-up. But Jin was standing before him, looking expectantly into his eyes with disturbing intensity.
"W-what?" He stammered his surprise and the moment shattered. Jin drew away, downcast.
"I’m sorry. Should’ve known you didn’t fancy me." He smiled sheepishly. "There had to be a reason you didn’t approach me after all."
The Japanese shrugged dismissively, sending Hwoarang out of his stupor.
"Fuck. Jin." SO not the right thing to say. He tried breathing. "It’s not that. I just..." he nervously ran a hand through his hair and fuck, he needed a smoke, "didn’t think you’d want anything with me. Hell, I didn’t even know you were bi. Gay. You get my point."
And now he was babbling. Jin seemed to be analysing his answer, and Hwoarang knew he was very very drunk when he smiled lopsidedly. He growled a curse in Korean.
"Now we’ve cleared all out, will you kiss me?"
All of a sudden he was too close, into Hwoarang’s personal space, intoxicating. The redhead hesitantly extended a hand to touch Jin’s face, and he couldn’t quite believe it when the other man leaned into the caress, turning his face a little to the side. Hwoarang leaned in for a mild brush of lips that echoed on his every nerve end, right down to his toes. When he pulled back, Jin looked perfectly ecstatic.
A few seconds later, though, the Japanese frowned.
"That was a friend kiss." The childish tone matched the expression.
Hwoarang half-smiled.
"You’re drunk and I don’t want you kicking my ass tomorrow for abusing your saucy alcoholised self. So now I am taking you home to sleep and we’ll talk this out when we wake up."
His tone admitted no discussion and Jin, pouting, agreed to climb on the motorcycle.
Hwoarang firmly believed his content heartbeat could be heard a mile away. It was lucky Jin couldn’t see his face, too, because he was beaming like an idiot.
-*-
Epilogue:
Turns out Hwoarang being incapable to sleep wasn’t too bad, because he was able to rush to Jin’s bedroom at the first sounds of someone who’d drunk too much making it for the toilet bowl in record time. In a split second he was standing behind the crouching Jin, one hand on the man’s cold-sweating forehead. Jin coughed and breathed hard, cleaning his throat, but nothing actually came out of his mouth. Eventually Hwoarang said in a soft voice.
"Don’t force it. Maybe you should just lie down."
Jin nodded slowly, and Hwoarang helped him to his feet, the man was pale and his legs didn’t seem to offer any support. The Korean guided his friend to the sink and made him throw some cold water on his face, would ease the sickness. Once Jin was safely laying on the bed, catching his breath, he disappeared for a moment to return with medicine and a glass of water. In spite of the Japanese’s pleading eyes, which stated clearly that he did not want anything going down his throat, Hwoarang’s stern manner got him to cooperate.
He gently took the glass from his friend and placed it on the nightstand, then kneeled more comfortably on the carpeted floor.
"You should lay on your side, it won’t spin as much."
Jin groaned but complied, moving slowly. The poor man must be having it pretty bad. Hwoarang covered him only with light bedsheets and, as silently as he could, dragged a chair to a spot from where he could conveniently keep an eye on Jin. He made himself as comfortable as he could and braced himself for a shitty night.
Jin’s breathing became even, and Hwoarang idly learned how curled up his friend was, the very contour of his every muscle underneath the sheets. Movement caught his attention, Jin was blinking, not getting more sleep than himself. Hwoarang shifted uneasily on his chair.
Some more time went by in a silence that was becoming awkward. It was Jin who broke it, his voice a bit ragged.
"Hwoarang."
"Yeah?" He was concerned and sleepy, still confused by the evening’s events.
"Sleep with me?"
He knitted his brow, but before he could say anything, Jin spoke again.
"I’m not drunk anymore. I just... don’t want to be alone."
Thoroughly worn out, Hwoarang didn’t have it in him to resist any longer.
"Okay."
He rose and carefully walked around the bed, pulling the covers and sliding to lay on the side Jin wasn’t occupying. The bed wasn’t a proper marital bed, but it wasn’t a single bed either, an uncomfortable size that forced the bed companions to partake personal space. Hwoarang held his breath as Jin moved, excruciatingly slowly, turning to face him. He relaxed when he made out the small smile on the other man’s face.
"Thanks." Jin reached forward and he almost instinctively extended his own hand for the Japanese to take it.
"Anytime." He smiled back, then chuckled softly. The situation was awkward but there were these wonderful goosebumps all over his back. "Shitty start huh?"
Jin chuckled too.
"For us?"
Hwoarang grew serious, the implications of the plural pronoun suddenly heavy. He tried to dispel the tension, squeezed Jin’s hand and smiled teasingly.
"I’m a drunkard’s fling. You’re going to wake up in the morning and kick my ass back to Korea."
"Your own fault, coaching me into drinking." Jin's reply came easily, in a yawn.
He couldn’t quite refute that, so just shrugged.
" ’m glad you did, though, if this is where it leads." He brought Hwoarang’s fingers to his lips and pressed small kisses against the knuckles. The Korean had nearly no voice to retort.
"No drunken love declarations please, sex will more than suffice."
The remark wasn’t even half-hearted, for he was too lost in Jin’s gaze to come up with anything remotely smartass. Jin smiled.
"Shut up."
And bit the tip of his forefinger lightly. Hwoarang shivered.
"Good night." Jin closed his eyes, clutching the redhead’s hand.
"Sweet dreams." Hwoarang whispered, his gaze caressing the other man’s cheek, something his hand didn’t dare do.
He lay there, letting his eyes just take in every little detail of Jin Kazama before he drifted to sleep.
-*-
Note: I'm smiling like an idiot.dead_pen's sent me the Tekken 5 Opening Video and... it's so gorgeous *drools* the graphics are amazing and Hwoarang is just so hot.
Hwoa: Always been *cocky smile*
He's also so very, very much shagging Steve. As soon as yousendit behaves, I'll make the video available and you'll be able to see what I mean. Remarkable thing #3: OMG Lee Chaolan is too sexy for words. +____+ There should definitely be more Jin in it, though...
justinetre *huggles* Title: Start
Author:
lorielenPairing: Jin x Hwo... heh, because as I’ve explained to
dead_pen earlier today, Hwo is soooooooo much of a seme. *amused*Rating: R
Summary: H/C, namely jealousy & fluff. A little alcohol too.
Author Notes: Should fit prompt #60 Drink for the
fanfic100 challenge.Written based on the jinxhwoa fuel Pen constantly provides me with, posted as an attempt to get
justinetre to smile. *hugs* You’ll show those bastards you’re more than capable, honey. This little ficlet is, as I’ve said, nothing too complicated. I even fear they’re heavily OOC. They don’t feel like that to me because the way our RP has been developing makes this plausible, but... well I do hope you’ll like it anyway.
Start
Hwoarang grunted as he was pressed against the wall of the lads’ loo belonging to Etherea, one of Tokyo’s hottest nightclubs. The following sounds he made were lost in the damp and very carnal kiss he shared with a guy he’d met like, half an hour ago. The stranger’s hands were roaming all over his well-tone body, setting him on liquid fire that moulded to the male pressing urgently against him, rubbing their denim-clad erections. The red-headed Korean groaned again as a leg was pushed between his own, pressing just so, and the other man’s greedy hands were filled with his arseglobes and pulling him into greater friction.
That was becoming all too fucking familiar.
His thoughts went to Jin, somewhere among the mass of bodies moving to the beat outside. Jin must be dancing, and the evoked mental image made Hwoarang suck viciously on the guy’s tongue as it was shoved down his throat. Jin was disarmingly sexy when he danced, hence Hwoarang often leaving for a drink and a cigarette and accidentally bumping into total strangers who didn’t mind playing tongue-wrestling and groping for a while. Because he couldn’t work up the nerve to approach Jin on the subject and he’d be damned if he’d go home with a raging hard-on and the man who’d caused it snuggling up behind him on his bike, harbouring distressingly friendly feelings.
The guy was working on Hwoarang’s collarbone now, thumbs teasing the Korean’s nipples and he tilted his head back, seeking immersion. Fifth pick-up in two weeks, and the best hands down. The first two’d been female though, so didn’t really count.
Fuck, that was lame and he knew it.
It totally paid off when he heard his trousers being unzipped. He shivered, the shared body heat suddenly faulting because the other man was on his knees, and tingles made it throughout his nerve ends in anticipation, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip. Mild moral dilemma here. Was it acceptable to try and mentally replace the generous stranger’s face with that of a certain Japanese as he received sexual gratification? Jin would be completely oblivious about now, dancing, he was endearing when he danced and it’d taken Hwoarang fucking forever and some alcohol to convince Jin Kazama that it was ok to dance when they went clubbing. The results by far overthrew the efforts though, Jin seemed to really appreciate music and he could attune his body to it in an unique and fascinating way.
Yeah, Hwoarang had a gigantic crush on the guy. It happens.
All of him startled at the feel of a wet kiss planted atop the tip of his cock. Regaining his wits, Hwoarang briskly placed either hand on the man’s shoulders and pushed. He then side-stepped, pulling up his underwear under the male’s astonished stare. He zipped himself up, no easy task, his erection not subsiding.
"Sorry, man. I just..." he ran a hand through his red hair and his face acquired a stern expression as he continued, "can’t do this. I’m hooked."
"Go fuck yourself."
The stranger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust, and Hwoarang shrugged.
"Sorry."
Adrenaline pumped to the beat as he made it out of the loo and into the dance floor. His heart was beating crazily as he acknowledged just what he’d said. He was taken. Beyond his former stud-self, his horror to attachment, he was hopelessly fixated on one Jin Kazama.
He was grinning like fool when he spotted Jin among the crowd. As he neared his friend, he saw a man approach him. The fucker came up and started to dance in front of Jin, obviously trying to hit on him. Bastard. Hwoarang’s eyes were blazes of scathing danger as he walked up behind Jin. The Japanese didn’t seem to mind the complete stranger curtseying him, and from that and the way his body moved, Hwoarang could tell he was tipsy. Great. He boldly took the opportunity to step up behind Jin, encircling his waist with both arms and leaning against him the more boyfriendly he could. All of him tingled but he concentrated in seeming natural.
"I’m back."
He said it loud enough for the third party to hear and get the fucking hint. Jin, ever the surprising tease, moulded against him, limp as a kitty, and Hwoarang couldn’t resist resting his chin on the Karate fighter’s shoulder to glare at the stranger.
"He’s with me."
His voice was calm, his arms possessively around Jin. He felt the fellow fighter’s body stiffen. Crap, what was he doing? His trousers were becoming uncomfortable. When the offender turned away and left, he relaxed his grip.
"Sorry, Jin. Got caught up, I didn’t mean to harass you."
He would have released the dark-haired man but Jin clasped a hand firmly atop his own, keeping them locked together.
"I don’t mind." A new music bounced off the speakers, and Jin started to move. Too much for Hwoarang’s strained nerve ends.
"I just wanted him to leave you alone, I know you don’t fancy that kind of stuff."
He was so tense. One, he knew he’d fucked up because his brain was screaming at him to get the fuck away from Kazama and his renewed erection urged him to do just the contrary. Two, Jin was actually keeping their position and was fucking dancing so very maddeningly close.
"What kind of stuff?"
Hwoarang pondered the best answer for a moment.
"Guys." He decided to go with bluntness.
"Oh." Jin conceded an instant of deliberation to the matter, then nudged the Korean with his shoulder. "You aren’t dancing."
Dancing with very pressing arousal was a spectacularly shitty idea.
"Jin, I think you’re drunk."
"I’m not." A pause during which Hwoarang knew he must be smiling and rolling his eyes. "You’re so allergic to being mistaken."
“How so?” Hwoarang was honestly puzzled.
Jin spun around, still between his arms, and suddenly Hwoarang had the subject of his secret fancy standing much too close, on the reason-shutdown zone. It didn’t help any that Kazama was smiling, amused.
"You assumed I wasn’t into guys."
Oh. Ooh. Ooooooohh. Understanding dawned on Hwoarang and he was so taken by surprise that he couldn’t help hissing when Jin delicately touched his zipper. The little thing made a metallic sound as the Japanese played with it.
"Is this for me?"
The tae-kwon-do ace had to take a step back, as though he’d been heavily punched on the chin. What the fuck was going on with Jin? The other man’s dilated pupils and wavering stance made his question silly. He sighed.
"Jin, you complete shithead, you’re so fucking drunk." He unceremoniously grabbed the other man’s wrist. "I’m taking you home."
He weaved their way through the crowd towards the exit, a scowl on his face. This was so not what he’d been fantasising about. He needed to get a grip on himself, for once he was supposed to be the sane one around. Right. As soon as the cool air of the parking lot greeted them, Jin yanked his hand away and stood, half-glaring at him.
"What?"
Hwoarang didn’t quite snap, he was too damn tired for that. But his patience wasn’t extensive either.
"I’ll admit I have had a little too much to drink."
No shit. Hwoarang grumbled inwardly, that sounded like the preamble for a loooong drunken speech and he really didn’t want to hear it, hell he had enough lecturing when Jin was damn sober, for chrissakes. Before he could act on it, though, the Japanese was at it again.
"But I did it because I had to get the courage to talk to you. Hm I bet that makes me the wanker you keep calling me huh?" He smiled self-deprecatingly.
Hwoarang was frozen on spot, freaking out on the inside. Jin resumed being looking his usual serious self.
"I saw you with that guy with the blue shirt."
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit oooooh fucking hell.
"I also saw the other guy last Thursday."
"Look, Jin--" He couldn’t get an entire sentence.
"And that was really bad because it was you with a guy." Contempt clearly showed in the Karate fighter’s voice.
He’d never known Jin to be homophobic before. His heart sank to the depths of utter hopelessness of his crush ever leading anywhere, the ironic display that had been the zipper trick. He’d missed out on the despise leaking from Jin’s voice then, must’ve been too damn focused with… oh fuck. Jin had stopped talking, apparently too aggravated, but then he took a breath and continued.
"And you didn’t even know them, you were just so accessible."
"Jin--" He was cut short again.
"And you are my friend, a really good friend, you can be unreasonable and petty at times but I care about you a lot."
Hwoarang really feared where this was heading. He might lose Jin’s friendship, a bond he’d worked hard for with a man he treasured, just because he was an easy whor not above instant gratification. And gay. He couldn’t bear to look at Jin in the eye, not sure whether to be indignant or mortified.
"It shouldn’t be so damn hard for me to talk to you, but it was and now I think I had too much to drink and I still can’t find the right words."
A small silence followed, both men breathing slowly, skin caressed by the early hours chill. Carefully, Hwoarang lifted his chin to look at the man he’d been stupid enough to fall in love with. He instinctively winced when Jin brought fingertips to trace strands of russet hair. It ached that a mockery of the very thing he desired should be bestowed on him right before he was kicked out of Jin’s straight life like a flea-bitten dog.
"Hwoarang." A whisper. "Will you kiss me?"
His eyes widened impossibly and he was sure he’d had some major brain fuck-up. But Jin was standing before him, looking expectantly into his eyes with disturbing intensity.
"W-what?" He stammered his surprise and the moment shattered. Jin drew away, downcast.
"I’m sorry. Should’ve known you didn’t fancy me." He smiled sheepishly. "There had to be a reason you didn’t approach me after all."
The Japanese shrugged dismissively, sending Hwoarang out of his stupor.
"Fuck. Jin." SO not the right thing to say. He tried breathing. "It’s not that. I just..." he nervously ran a hand through his hair and fuck, he needed a smoke, "didn’t think you’d want anything with me. Hell, I didn’t even know you were bi. Gay. You get my point."
And now he was babbling. Jin seemed to be analysing his answer, and Hwoarang knew he was very very drunk when he smiled lopsidedly. He growled a curse in Korean.
"Now we’ve cleared all out, will you kiss me?"
All of a sudden he was too close, into Hwoarang’s personal space, intoxicating. The redhead hesitantly extended a hand to touch Jin’s face, and he couldn’t quite believe it when the other man leaned into the caress, turning his face a little to the side. Hwoarang leaned in for a mild brush of lips that echoed on his every nerve end, right down to his toes. When he pulled back, Jin looked perfectly ecstatic.
A few seconds later, though, the Japanese frowned.
"That was a friend kiss." The childish tone matched the expression.
Hwoarang half-smiled.
"You’re drunk and I don’t want you kicking my ass tomorrow for abusing your saucy alcoholised self. So now I am taking you home to sleep and we’ll talk this out when we wake up."
His tone admitted no discussion and Jin, pouting, agreed to climb on the motorcycle.
Hwoarang firmly believed his content heartbeat could be heard a mile away. It was lucky Jin couldn’t see his face, too, because he was beaming like an idiot.
-*-
Epilogue:
Turns out Hwoarang being incapable to sleep wasn’t too bad, because he was able to rush to Jin’s bedroom at the first sounds of someone who’d drunk too much making it for the toilet bowl in record time. In a split second he was standing behind the crouching Jin, one hand on the man’s cold-sweating forehead. Jin coughed and breathed hard, cleaning his throat, but nothing actually came out of his mouth. Eventually Hwoarang said in a soft voice.
"Don’t force it. Maybe you should just lie down."
Jin nodded slowly, and Hwoarang helped him to his feet, the man was pale and his legs didn’t seem to offer any support. The Korean guided his friend to the sink and made him throw some cold water on his face, would ease the sickness. Once Jin was safely laying on the bed, catching his breath, he disappeared for a moment to return with medicine and a glass of water. In spite of the Japanese’s pleading eyes, which stated clearly that he did not want anything going down his throat, Hwoarang’s stern manner got him to cooperate.
He gently took the glass from his friend and placed it on the nightstand, then kneeled more comfortably on the carpeted floor.
"You should lay on your side, it won’t spin as much."
Jin groaned but complied, moving slowly. The poor man must be having it pretty bad. Hwoarang covered him only with light bedsheets and, as silently as he could, dragged a chair to a spot from where he could conveniently keep an eye on Jin. He made himself as comfortable as he could and braced himself for a shitty night.
Jin’s breathing became even, and Hwoarang idly learned how curled up his friend was, the very contour of his every muscle underneath the sheets. Movement caught his attention, Jin was blinking, not getting more sleep than himself. Hwoarang shifted uneasily on his chair.
Some more time went by in a silence that was becoming awkward. It was Jin who broke it, his voice a bit ragged.
"Hwoarang."
"Yeah?" He was concerned and sleepy, still confused by the evening’s events.
"Sleep with me?"
He knitted his brow, but before he could say anything, Jin spoke again.
"I’m not drunk anymore. I just... don’t want to be alone."
Thoroughly worn out, Hwoarang didn’t have it in him to resist any longer.
"Okay."
He rose and carefully walked around the bed, pulling the covers and sliding to lay on the side Jin wasn’t occupying. The bed wasn’t a proper marital bed, but it wasn’t a single bed either, an uncomfortable size that forced the bed companions to partake personal space. Hwoarang held his breath as Jin moved, excruciatingly slowly, turning to face him. He relaxed when he made out the small smile on the other man’s face.
"Thanks." Jin reached forward and he almost instinctively extended his own hand for the Japanese to take it.
"Anytime." He smiled back, then chuckled softly. The situation was awkward but there were these wonderful goosebumps all over his back. "Shitty start huh?"
Jin chuckled too.
"For us?"
Hwoarang grew serious, the implications of the plural pronoun suddenly heavy. He tried to dispel the tension, squeezed Jin’s hand and smiled teasingly.
"I’m a drunkard’s fling. You’re going to wake up in the morning and kick my ass back to Korea."
"Your own fault, coaching me into drinking." Jin's reply came easily, in a yawn.
He couldn’t quite refute that, so just shrugged.
" ’m glad you did, though, if this is where it leads." He brought Hwoarang’s fingers to his lips and pressed small kisses against the knuckles. The Korean had nearly no voice to retort.
"No drunken love declarations please, sex will more than suffice."
The remark wasn’t even half-hearted, for he was too lost in Jin’s gaze to come up with anything remotely smartass. Jin smiled.
"Shut up."
And bit the tip of his forefinger lightly. Hwoarang shivered.
"Good night." Jin closed his eyes, clutching the redhead’s hand.
"Sweet dreams." Hwoarang whispered, his gaze caressing the other man’s cheek, something his hand didn’t dare do.
He lay there, letting his eyes just take in every little detail of Jin Kazama before he drifted to sleep.
-*-
Note: I'm smiling like an idiot.
dead_pen's sent me the Tekken 5 Opening Video and... it's so gorgeous *drools* the graphics are amazing and Hwoarang is just so hot. Hwoa: Always been *cocky smile*
He's also so very, very much shagging Steve. As soon as yousendit behaves, I'll make the video available and you'll be able to see what I mean. Remarkable thing #3: OMG Lee Chaolan is too sexy for words. +____+ There should definitely be more Jin in it, though...
