Yanagi's never been all that sure about Yukimura-- he's strong, very much so, keeps everything hidden and tucked away from the rest of the world-- about what's going on in his mind. Yanagi tries to read those eyes-- blue as the ocean and so deep he could fall in them, if he really wanted to-- tries to get inside Yukimura's brain to see how it works. Yanagi's never been this obsessed before, he wants to reach into Yukimura, break him just to put him back together again.
Yanagi's never been in love before, but his instincts tell him this is it-- wanting, waiting, watching for anything that will clue him in to Yukimura's feelings-- that even though Yanagi cannot tell if Yukimura feels the same way, this is love he is feeling.
It's tough love, Yanagi thinks, and he wonders if he will ever break through.
Jaejoong drags the pink gloss lightly over his lips, pouting into the mirror to observe his work. He gently runs the tip of his tongue over them and hums in approval-- it's cherry-flavored, one of his favorites. he rummages through the drawer a second time, a grin spreading across his face (he's still confused as to why Junsu would have cherry-flavored lipgloss in his desk drawer, but there'll be time to tease later) as his hands close around a familiar-shaped object. Jaejoong's smile widens as he pulls out the bottle of lube, and he laughs as he reads the cover: "Astroglide-- you'll never be butt-hurt again!"
Jaejoong remembers some American girl they met one time talking with her American slang, and butt-hurt seemed to be her favorite phrase. Junsu, of course, loved it, but not because of the actual meaning it held-- he liked it because it was, well, butt-hurt-- which was, according to her, angry or offended at something.
The creaking of the door causes Jaejoong to jump guiltily and he turns to find Junsu, torn between being amused and angry. Jaejoong puts on the charm and licks his shiny lips with a smile. "You're not butt-hurt, are you, Susu?" he drawls, his mouth curving moreso as a light flickers in Junsu's dark eyes.
Junsu laughs then, and slides up to Jaejoong, gently taking the lube out of his hand. "Want to find out?"
Jaejoong's glossed lips don't last very long after that.
Yunho's grateful, utterly so, to the person who thought of the term 'fanservice'. Without them, he wouldn't be able to walk past Jaejoong and lightly graze his bare shoulder, or slip an arm around his waist. Without them, he wouldn't be able to smile and watch as Jaejoong belts out another perfect note, another perfect blend of the harmony that makes them all work so well together. Without them Yunho wouldn't be able to place his hand on Jaejoong's chest and dip his head to whisper dirty phrases-- what he'll do tonight-- into Jaejoong's ear during a photoshoot, and watch as his smooth, fair skin flushes in anticipation, feel Jaejoong's heartbeat speed up underneath his hand.
Yunho thinks that if fanservice wasn't a part of their everyday life, he'd go insane, because he lives and breathes Jaejoong, and going even one second without touching him is torture.
When Jaejoong's fingers 'accidentally' slip underneath his t-shirt during a friendly embrace, Yunho thinks maybe Jaejoong agrees.
"Hey, Yunhoyah," Yoochun says in a low voice, trembling with the effort not to laugh. "You need to come see this."
Yunho is beside him in an instant, followed shortly after by the rest of the bandmates, and they all skim over the newspaper in Yoochun's hands quickly. The article in question is the headline of the day:
SHOCK! Boyband DBSK - LOVERS?! Photos inside!
There is a thoughtful silence.
"Well," Junsu says finally, his breath hot against Yoochun's ear.
"Well?" Jaejoong prompts, raising an eyebrow.
Yoochun can feel Junsu's grin, can practically see the devious flicker in those dark eyes. "Let's go prove them right."
There is another pondering silence following this statement. Then five pairs of feet scurrying up the stairs.
Yoochun is the first one in the apartment.
"I don't even know why I'm playing with you," Yuuta mumbles grumpily, tapping his racket lightly against his shoulder. He casts a glare across the court as Shiraishi, smirk firmly in place, fiddles with the bandaging on his arm.
"Because I asked you to," Shiraishi says simply, and twirls his racket once before pointing it at Yuuta challengingly. "Are you going to serve, or not? You wanted to practice, so let's go."
Yuuta clenches the ball in his hand. If he really wants to become better, Shiraishi would be a perfect practice partner-- perfect tennis and all that-- but the smug, overconfident atittude he exudes is pissing Yuuta off. Royally.
"Whatever," he says shortly.
Hours later, Yuuta is no less pissed off and he's lost every game. And Shiraishi wasn't even trying, the bastard.
"Well, I'm off," Shiraishi says offhandedly, twirling his racket again, "Tomorrow, same time?"
"Fuck off, " Yuuta growls, stuffing his racket into his bag, "You didn't even try. Am I that boring to you?"
Shiraishi chuckles, smooth and low. "Practice makes perfect, Shusuke-kun," is all he says as he saunters off.
The next day, Yuuta tells himself that he won't show up-- but he does anyway. Perfect, indeed.
"I'm bored," Junsu whines from the couch.
Yoochun glances up from his book with a raised eyebrow, but to be truthful, he's feeling the same-- he's trying to learn more Japanese, but the pages are beginning to blur together from having studied it for so long. He glances over towards the scenic balcony their apartment has, where Jaejoong is outside smoking a cigarette accompanied by Yunho, then shares a look with Changmin, who is seated at the kitchen table writing out kanji.
With a sigh, Yoochun places his bookmark inside the crease of the book and sets it aside. "What do you want to do, then? I've got a couple of songs we could work on, if you want," he suggests.
Junsu shakes his head. "No, I don't feel like writing just yet." Suddenly his eyes light up and he shoots off the couch so fast that Yoochun has to blink a couple of times. "Let's play games or something! Like, those Japanese games they were telling us about today!"
Jaejoong and Yunho, who had entered a few seconds ago, join Changmin at the table. "You know, that sounds like fun. We could work on our Japanese that way," Yunho agrees. "That game that uses the suffixes and prefixes would work."
Jaejoong rolls his eyes. "That's just more work, Yunnie-ah," he says, flopping onto the table and burying his head into his arms. "I'm tired of learning Japanese tonight."
Yoochun clears his throat. While he agreed with Jaejoong, they did need to work on their Japanese whenever they could-- they were in Japan, after all, and the Japanese fans were just as important as the Korean ones. "Ah," he murmurs, a smile curving his lips. "Why don't we make it interesting then?"
Jaejoong's head lifts and he eyes Yoochun devilishly. They've always been on the same wavelength, and Yoochun is sure Jaejoong knows exactly what he's planning. He asks anyway. "How, Chunnie?"
All eyes are on him, and Yoochun can see now that both Changmin and Junsu have curious smiles on their faces as well. Yunho simply looks apprehensive, but they're all used to that-- he's the leader and a leader needs to have a good head on his shoulders. But Yunho always managed to get dragged into their schemes no matter how much he protested, so Yoochun wasn't too worried. "Whoever loses removes an article of clothing," he answers with a smirk.
Thirty minutes later and everyone is nearly nude, save for Changmin (who still retains everything but his pants). Yoochun's not complaining though. He's got Yunho on one side, wearing only his boxers and a blush, and Junsu is on his other side with only a pillow and smile. Yoochun is still in his pants and underwear, thankfully, and Jaejoong is about two seconds away from losing his boxers.
Yoochun gleefully helps everyone count down the last two seconds of Jaejoong's time while he continues to splutter helplessly. But as Jaejoong steps out of his boxers, Yoochun doesn't miss the looks the other three give him. Nor does he miss out on the chance to do some looking of his own.
Jaejoong, apparently, doesn't miss them either and makes quite the show of trying to find a pillow to hide himself with.
No one helps him out, either.
Minutes later, everyone's nude-- save for Changmin, who still has on his boxers-- and Yoochun is horny as hell. "Let's play another game," he says, his mouth lifting into a sly smile that he shares with Jaejoong, who is sitting on the floor next to Changmin. Jaejoong's smile widens and his eyes sparkle and Yoochun winks. "Let's see who can get Changmin's boxers off the fastest."
Changmin is up in a flash, but Jaejoong's faster (Yoochun refrains from making any corny English puns in reference to this) and soon they are all carrying a now fully nude Changmin back to the bedroom.
Yoochun pauses and grabs Junsu, kissing him hard and fast. "I love your brain sometimes," he says.
Junsu beams and bumps Yoochun's hip as he saunters toward the bedroom after the other three. "No, you love all of me."
"I HATE ALL OF YOU!" Is Changmin's reply to that from the bedroom.
Yoochun and Junsu giggle and run to the bedroom to help their hyungs out.
Yunho doesn't have many kinks when it comes to sex. He doesn't care much for handcuffs of blindfolds, nor does he enjoy whips or leather of any sort. He prefers things simple, and the only time it gets even slightly kinky is when Jaejoong decides he wants to try a new position, or if one of the bandmates join them. Which isn't often.
But when he finds out that Jaejoong's and Yoochun's tattoos are a little more sensitive than anyone had previously thought, Yunho decides that perhaps he has a kink after all.
He makes an effort to invite Yoochun in a little more often, after that.
Junsu is aware that he's stolen the cute position from Changmin. He didn't do it on purpose, really. It just happened. But Changmin doesn't seem that angry about it, and in fact makes up for it by becoming the little smartass of the group. Junsu doesn't mind one bit, because he has to admit-- some of the replies Changmin gives their fans are nothing short of hilarious. He's proud of how much Changmin's grown, how the younger has come out of his shell little by little every year.
But at night, when everyone is asleep and they are the only two left awake watching movies on the couch, Junsu can't help but think that Changmin's still adorable. Especially when he's cuddled up against Junsu's side and his eyes begin to flutter shut.
When Junsu shifts to get more comfortable, sometimes Changmin will start, tense and pull back slightly; but Junsu kisses his forehead and whispers and Changmin relaxes, cuddles closer. And when he falls asleep, Junsu smiles and closes his own eyes, lulled to sleep himself by Changmin's deep rhythmic breathing.
It must be a cute thing, Junsu thinks with a smile.
Daphne chuckles and leans forward, stealing the firewhiskey from Harry's loose grip. "I think Theo has a crush on you, Potter," she says in a low, syrupy voice, eyes alight with mischief and alcohol. She's pleasantly buzzed, not intoxicated, but feeling decidedly warm and giggly. If she didn't care much for Harry Potter before, she does now-- his idea of curing boredom at a summer camp is one of genius.
Harry grins, allows her to take the bottle and rests his head on her pillow. "I thought Malfoy did? When did Theo come into the conversation?" His green eyes are unfocused even with his glasses on, and his dark hair is wild, messy. Daphne's alcohol-hindered brain thinks it's the sexiest thing she's ever seen.
"Don't you know, Potter? You're supposed to jump topics like this when you're drunk," she says, returning his grin. She takes another drink of the firewhiskey and a small bit dribbles down her chin. She giggles, raises her hand to stop it, but Harry's is there first. She doesn't know how he managed to move so fast, but his close proximity is making her suddenly dizzy, and she's sure it's not from the alcohol.
Harry's fingers are gentle upon her skin, teasing almost, with their light, fleeting touches. He seems unsure, but bolder because he's not thinking clearly. "What topic will we jump to now, then?" he asks, his words slurring slightly, his breath fanning the hair framing her face.
Daphne smiles coyly, turning her head to the side and nips his fingertips lightly. "Someone other than Theo has a crush on you, Harry Potter," she says and her heart is thumping so loudly she thinks it's a wonder Harry can't hear it. Maybe it's because it's Harry Potter, she's not sure, but she's never been so giddily schoolgirl-ish with anyone other than Blaise and Blaise doesn't really count because she's known him forever. Even though she is calm, cool, Slytherin on the outside, she feels like a Hufflepuff on this inside, all butterflies and mush as Harry's eyes widen slightly and his mouth drops in a small 'o'.
Daphne's not sure who moves first, but suddenly the firewhiskey is forgotten as lips meet, awkwardly and too much teeth and Daphne is blushing when she pulls back-- she's never blushed before, not once. Harry's blushing too, and he clears his throat nervously. The sound echoes in the silence between them. "Er," Harry says.
Daphne sighs, pulls Harry by his shirt, so they are nose to nose. She's not so drunk that what just happened is going to be forgotten easily. "Alright. We kissed, yes. It was a bit awkward, yes. Do we want to try again, or pretend it never happened, even though it really did and you are utter crap at acting?"
Harry frowns, but his gaze is still resting on her lips as he protests, "I am not crap at acting. I just...don't like lying." His gaze raises and Daphne feels her insides start to melt. "Er, Daphne, what do you think?"
Daphne lets go of his shirt and sits back. "That's why I asked you. I have no earthly idea, because not even a day ago, I couldn't stand the thought of you, to be honest," she replies, picking up the discarded bottle of firewhiskey (spill-proof and unbreakable!) absently. She shrugs, trying to look as casual as possible-- she's a Slytherin after all, and can't go around showing too many emotions.
Harry is silent for a few moments then runs a hand through his hair. "I think," he begins, slowly, "if we practice a little, we may get it right." His nervous look her way is Daphne's undoing.
She crawls forward, despite the butterflies that are still present deep in her belly, and pushes Harry back against the bed, straddling his hips. Harry's eyes widen slightly and he sucks in a breath as Daphne leans down, brushes her lips lightly against his. "Alright then, Po--" she smiles then, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth and releasing it. "Harry, I think, would be more appropriate." She doesn't wait for him to comment and slowly kisses him. This kiss is better than the other, less teeth and more tongue, more sounds of pleasure, although Daphne's unsure who's making them.
There is another sound just then, and a bright flash followed by an amused cackle, coming from the opening of the tent. Daphne and Harry both startle, jump away from each other in fright.
Theo Nott doubles over with laughter and flashes Daphne a satisfied smirk as her gaze falls upon the source of the first sound and the flash of light-- a camera. "THEO, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" Daphne yells, as Theo waves joyfully and runs far, far away, which is probably a good thing, Daphne thinks, because she is really going to kill him. After she gets that picture.
Harry, meanwhile, has taken her loss of attention his way as a chance to laugh silently. Daphne shuts him up, but not before casting a few hand charms and hexes on their tent first.
Later, Daphne decides she may not kill Theo after all-- if he helps her tidy Harry up a little. The glasses have to go.