Genre: AU, fluff, crack
Warning: Underage Jaejoong
Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the story. I wish I had YunJae and if I had my way, they'd move to New Zealand so they can be MARRIED here
Summary: Nothing has ever fazed him in his life. At 29, he is successfully self-employed, and doing something he loves which means going to work should really be enjoyable. What is that saying? If you work in what you love, you will never work a day in your life? This would be true if not for just one doe-eyed problem…
AN: This was finished last week but I was sick and our internet had a fit so it’s taken this long :O
AN2: Kawaii angel kitten...JUST LOOK AT HIM +________________+
“I don’t want to go.”
“Jaejoong, please…” Yunho looks back and forth between the teenager and two men he’s managed to wrap himself around. Under normal circumstances, he’d have more than a few choice words about this but right now, he’s on the back foot with a plane to catch in less than three hours.
The teenager shakes his head, pouting fiercely as he twists, ducking his face behind a strong shoulder, said shoulder moving helpfully to give him room to hide. He can feel someone else rubbing his calf comfortingly, and it just serves to increase his irritation. Yunho should be the one soothing him, not his cousin!
Changmin and Junsu may or may not have been necking on the couch like a pair of undisciplined teenagers when the actual teenager arrived home from his last day of finals in one hell of a mood, Yunho trailing behind him cussing in three languages to himself as the mutinous glare on Jaejoong’s face shows anything but cooperation.
The seventeen year old all but bulldozed himself a straight path through the apartment, not even pausing to walk around the coffee table in the way but rather climbing over it and nudging Changmin and Junsu apart as he settles himself between them, crossing his arms and declaring in no uncertain terms…
”I am not going.”
Well, that was almost two hours ago. It’s now degenerated to Yunho asking, then ordering, and now close to begging.
All with liberal doses of ”Damn it, Jaejoong.” which really isn’t very helpful towards his cause.
Yunho cards his hand through his hair in frustration, tugging at the roots as he stares at the full couch, his young boyfriend trying his damnedest to burrow his way into Changmin for some reason. Junsu isn’t helping one bit, crowding the boy’s other side and tut tutting every now and again in Yunho direction while the petulant teenager gets coos from the international superstar instead.
Yes, he’s defied his father on more than one occasion but this isn’t about defying his father.
This is about disappointing his mother.
Nobody disappoints her and survives unscathed.
And there is nothing Yunho can do about it. His father’s wrath will be directed at him but some will definitely spill over to Jaejoong. Protected or not, nobody has a chance in hell of getting away with disappointing the oyabun’s beloved.
Only she can step in, but he knows his mother can be flighty and her sulks are the stuff of legend, so by the time she realizes she really ought to step in, it might be too late.
His thoughts are leaning towards melodrama, but really, being the youngest son of the greatest oyabun of the modern era, there’s no such thing as too much drama. He’s pretty fucking sure that drama happens sometimes just because his father wishes it.
It’s always best to be mentally prepared for any eventuality, and his father can be fucking creative.
“Damn it, Jaejoong.”
The teenager stiffens, finally pulling his head out from behind Changmin’s shoulder and deciding he’s done with making like an ostrich. The problem isn’t going away no matter what he does. He turns, blinking in the bright light, rubbing his clenched fists over his eyes to try and regain his vision quicker.
He knows he’s being difficult but he feels like he really has justification for it. He’d wanted to ask Yunho about his parents several times in the last few weeks but the distraction of studying for his finals was sufficient to stay his tongue every single time. And really, he’d assumed that if Yunho was serious about taking him then he’d bring it up again.
Isn’t that what any normal person does?
What do they say about assumptions again?
Jaejoong thinks back carefully, unaware of his pout as he concentrates on his memories of the brief mention of this trip all those weeks ago. He’d blocked it all out during his finals that day, a feat that even he is rather proud of, but the second he’d clapped eyes on his boyfriend, the breakfast conversation that had reminded him of it comes to fore.
“How can you even think to take me to your parents when you haven’t even told me you love me? What am I supposed to say to your parents if they ask me what the hell their twenty-nine year old son is doing with a seventeen year old nobody who only found out today that popping cherries means to steal your V card?”
Well, perhaps his no wasn’t very clear. Perhaps Yunho’s avowal of love that came after that equates to a tacit acquiescence on his part in being presented to his boyfriend’s yakuza parents.
The teenager suppresses a shiver.
He doesn’t want to think about it.
And really, Yunho should have learned by now, right? Didn’t he teach the man to ask him?
A little voice in his head is quietly reminding him that he is no doubt complicit as well for not mentioning it, but he is going to be the teenager here, and point out that Yunho is the adult and really should know better.
Mouth still pursed, the way he rubs his eyes reminds Yunho of the kitten no doubt curled up on his pillow in their bedroom.
The fight finally leaves the tattooed man as he sighs in the direction of his young boyfriend, the tattooist’s shoulders drooping uncharacteristically as he finally drops onto the armchair opposite the trio.
Changmin quirks an eyebrow at him, mouth tugging in the corners, but he says nothing.
Junsu wrinkles his nose, eyes narrowed as he studies his cousin who is gazing at the teenager currently letting out little huffs and puffs of dismayed air as he mutters under his breath about arbitrary yakuza princes who really should know better.
He knows why Yunho is pushing it. His aunt has even called him, gleeful and excited about finally meeting Jaejoong, asking Junsu of all people what the teenager’s favorite food is. He’d almost been about to say Yunho, but he’d managed to stop himself at the last minute, telling his aunt that the boy is fond of ramen. The spicier the better.
However, what he doesn’t agree with is how Yunho’s done it. His hopeless cousin, so used to people doing his bidding without question, has another thing coming when it comes to Jaejoong. The boy has a defiant and stubborn streak that could possibly rival Yunho’s. Instead of trying to coax the teenager and ease him into the idea of meeting his parents over the last few weeks, Yunho had simply casually mentioned it over breakfast that morning.
”Babe, remember you need to pack. I’ll pick you up after your final paper, but if you finish it early just give me a call. I’ll be nearby.”
“Pack?” Jaejoong’s expression is mystified, caught mid-feed of the kitten perched on the table, he is the very picture of adorable confusion, squeaking even when his kitten nips his fingers when he’s late in feeding it.
Yunho doesn’t notice as he makes coffee for his uninvited breakfast guests, namely Junsu and Changmin who’d strolled in hand in hand that morning. The two men exchange glances, Junsu mouthing “they haven’t settled this?” to Changmin who shrugs, mouthing back “I stayed out of it”.
“Yes, pack. Remember? We’re going to see my parents after your exams. ” Yunho replies distractedly as the coffee machine makes a protesting croak at whatever it is he’s doing. Glaring at the machine, he misses the dawning glare on his teenager’s sleep-creased cherubic features. He continues unwittingly, “We’re flying out late afternoon. It’ll only be for one night and then tomorrow I’ll take you around the country.”
“As if she’s going to let you two go after just one night,” Junsu mumbles unhelpfully, but his words are caught by the slowly stewing teenager on his left.
The machine wheezes, and Yunho smacks it in disgust, pulling out the half filled mug and staring at it. He turns towards Changmin, missing the deadly glare being leveled his way, not realizing exactly how silent the kitchen is.
“I think you got an espresso instead of a latte. I can’t work this fucking thing. Why did you have to buy such a complicated machine? Take it back to your apartment. I’ll get my own coffee jug. Who the fuck uses gadgets like these anyway? Coffee is coffee.”
Changmin smirks, leaning back on the bar stool, hand caressing the small of Junsu’s back as he waits.
“Which part of no didn’t you understand?”
Junsu sucks on his bottom lip, glancing at the angry teenager who doesn’t even flinch anymore at his kitten using his fingertips as chew toys.
Yunho finally looks up, still completely oblivious. “No? You want this machine?” he glances down at the gleaming metal contraption tilting his head as he appraises his foe, before shrugging. “Ok, if you really want it, I’ll figure it out. Might have to ask Nic what she did with the manual though. I don’t want to accidentally steam my thumb off or something.”
“To hell with your thumb, you ass!” Jaejoong stands, pushing away from the table, he picks up his kitten roughly, ignoring its confused mewls as he storms to the bedroom.
“Huh?” Yunho stares after him, before turning to look at the couple shaking their heads at him. “What? I didn’t think he liked it that much. He barely even drinks coffee. I’m so glad his exams are almost over. Blue balls makes him grumpier than me, and that’s saying something.”
“Oh, hyung…you’re in so much shit right now.” Junsu remarks sotto voce.
And now here they are, seven hours later and nothing resolved it seems.
Junsu feels sorry for the unlikely couple, for different reasons.
He feels bad for Jaejoong because it’s definitely too much too soon, and especially with him being so young, he doesn’t expect the teenager to understand.
And he feels bad for Yunho because he knows his cousin is trying to protect Jaejoong. He made the initial mistake, but being new to relationships and especially with someone like Jaejoong, it more than likely didn’t occur to him that the teenager had both forgotten as well as never imagined Yunho would hold him to something from so long ago without any discussion in between.
Either way, it’s really his cousin to blame, but the objective is to come out of this as unscathed as possible, so Junsu will throw his lot in.
“I’m going too, cutie.” Junsu pats Jaejoong’s knee comfortingly. “I need to sort out some Japanese promotions and I can’t go to Japan without paying my respects so I’m going with you.”
“You are?” Changmin asks, pretty fucking sure that Junsu told him last night that the Japanese agency can sort themselves out otherwise they’d have the wrath of Yamaguchi-gumi raining down on them and nobody wants that.
“We are,” Junsu declares pointedly, deciding that perhaps his own shiny new boyfriend should be punished for letting matters get so bad. At least he has a valid excuse with all the flying around he’s been doing from Bali to Macau and then some. Changmin though? He lives next door for pete’s sake! He should know better especially since he knows what Yunho is like, and he knows Jaejoong better than anyone.
“We are?” Changmin’s throat closes up.
Yunho catches onto the lifeline, knowing that if anyone can somehow get a seat, or two, on the flight with practically no notice, it would be Xia Junsu, international superstar idol.
“See? It’ll be fun. It’s just like the apartment but with two extra people.” Yunho’s voice holds a very minute thread of desperation.
“How stupid do you think I am?” The query is quiet and a little sad.
Yunho shakes his head immediately, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his protest completely genuine and heartfelt. “Not stupid, never stupid. I’m so sorry, babe. I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life if I have to, but we really have to be on that flight.”
“And if we’re not?”
And it stretches.
Changmin shifts uncomfortably, resisting the urge to count his fingers and toes.
Jaejoong has no such compunction, wrinkling his nose, holding out his hands in front of him and examining his fingers carefully.
“1 + 1… gwiyomi,” he intones sepulchrally, deep dark eyes locked on Yunho’s face but his sight is unseeing.
Changmin wants to laugh, feeling totally thrown off balance thanks to Junsu’s bombshell, but he stops himself. Jaejoong does this sometimes, going completely off tangent and he knows it’s a way the teenager copes with stress. He blocks it out and moves on as if nothing is wrong till he decides he wants to deal with the problem.
If he ever deals with the problem.
Jaejoong is similar to Yunho in that respect.
Out of sight, out of mind.
God only knows how the two of them resolve any major disagreement.
“2 + 2… gwiyomi.”
Both Junsu and Yunho are gazing at Jaejoong as if he’s some sort of alien.
There is nothing lighthearted about the teenager’s version of gwiyomi. His tone is veritably tomblike, as if building up to his doom. Each word like a brick, sealing his immurement.
Changmin shakes his head, trying to clear his mental vision. Being around Yunho and doing some research on his father over the past month or so has heightened his appreciation for the macabre. His friend’s father is very creative with his punishments and rather enjoys making examples of people.
Both he and Jaejoong better not be his next example.
“3 + 3…” Jaejoong looks perplexedly at his fingers because something isn’t quite right. He tries again. “3 + 3…” And still his fingers are wrong.
[Author's Note: You have to click :O]
[AN: This is the first time I’m doing an insert here but I had to. He was so fucking hopeless pretty much every single time he did this and I’m just unable to can. Imagine that Jaejoong up at the top doing this with a cutie patootie confused expression as he can’t quite manage to work it out lmao!
AN: And yes, HE STILL DID IT WRONG. Ok, back to the fic and I’m so sorry for being random like this but it really killed me. And I know it’s hard to imagine Jaejoong doing it with an utterly mournful expression on his face but try, ok? :P]
Junsu reaches out, fixing the teenager’s fingers quietly. Having done this stupid meme so many times for his fans, it’s practically muscle memory.
“Thank you,” Jaejoong murmurs, before continuing, “3 + 3…gwiyomi.”
It’s still wrong.
Yunho keeps his thoughts to himself as he watches the teenager, unable to stop the smile he directs at the boy for his adorable fumbling.
Dead silence in the living room of Yunho’s apartment.
If Jaejoong notices, he doesn’t make any comment on it as he keeps going. “4 + 4… gwiyomi.”
He tilts his head, resting his cheek against the back of his fingers, eyes gleaming and awash with accusation and a healthy dose of upset as he looks at Yunho who holds his gaze for a second before dropping his eyes.
“5 + 5… gwiyomi.”
Jaejoong sigh is long and loud at the end of that particular part, hands cupping his cheeks, looking utterly forlorn.
Only Yunho can see his expression though, and the guilt is eating him.
Jaejoong kisses his fingers, moving up to the sixth part of gwiyomi, but he pauses when he gets to the thumb signaling six.
He stares at the digit, eyes almost crossed as he peers at it, his mind finally calming down even though his belly is still churning like crazy. It feels like he’s got a whole heap of butterflies in his belly, trying to get out.
It hurts but he ignores it, finally looking up, doe eyes clear and sparkling with a hint of mischief as he decides that the main problem of Yunho being a hopeless boyfriend can be dealt with later, and the sub problem of his parents he’ll just have to roll with it. He trusts that Yunho won’t let anything happen to him, and he has to meet them eventually. It’ll be like ripping off a bandaid doing it now, but hopefully there won’t be any pain involved.
Whatever it is though, his boyfriend really needs a lesson or two. Maybe his mother will help. Mothers adore Jaejoong.
His voice is small as he tilts his head to gaze past his thumb to look over at Yunho. “I’m rather fond of my fingers and thumbs, Yunho.”
“Uh-huh…” it’s not like he has any inkling whatsoever as to what’s going through Jaejoong’s mind. His morbid version of gwiyomi has already done a number on Yunho’s head.
“Promise I can still do gwiyomi after we get back?”
“I promise. You can do whatever you want.”
Jaejoong suddenly grins. “Can I do you?”
Changmin finally loses it, all that time to think about his own doom, and the implications of Jaejoong’s gwiyomi game has made him toe the line of hysteria. He bursts out laughing, his whole body into it and making Jaejoong stand for fear of being hit by a flying limb.
Even Junsu moves away from the crazed laughing piercer.
“K-kid…” Changmin coughs, trying to get control of himself.
Jaejoong wrinkles his nose, moving away from the man, crawling atop the coffee table and sitting cross-legged right in the middle of it.
“I think hyung is crazy,” he declares loudly.
“You’re the crazy one.” Changmin finally sobers up, choking off his laughter as he sits up, wiping tears from his eyes.
“You wanna do hyung? It’ll be like a chihuahua trying to fuck a doberman.”
“You’re an idiot,” Junsu mutters in disgust, leaning over to smack his boyfriend up the back of the head as Jaejoong still looks confused. “He didn’t mean it that way. I can do you and it’ll still be your damn cock in my ass.”
Jaejoong chokes at the explicit image in his mind.
Junsu’s outburst had been uncharacteristic and has fanned a fair few flames.
Yunho and Changmin’s eyes meet, and a silent exchange ensues.
As one, both men stand, hauling their respective other halves over their shoulder and marching off in the direction of their rooms.
Jaejoong’s laughter echoes after him.
Junsu on the other hand is busy howling the apartment down about fucking neanderthals.
Changmin shuts him up right quick though.
The flight to Tokyo was delayed slightly by their tardy arrival, but it’s pretty hard for an airline to leave when it’s missing even one first class passenger, let alone four.
The three men and one boy-man enter the chamber, heads bowed, waiting to be addressed, only to find the room empty. Jaejoong and Changmin have both been cautioned to only speak when spoken to, and while the piercer has every intention of not saying a damn word unless being quiet might actually get him maimed or killed, Jaejoong’s natural curiosity has already caused him to throw caution in the wind as he looks around the room.
There is nothing ostentatious about it, nothing indicating that they are in the home belonging to a very powerful and scary man. In fact, the room is a lot smaller than Jaejoong had expected, but what it lacks in size, it more than makes up for in height. The soaring ceilings with ornately carved cornices of gold frolicking koi give the room a sense of understated grandeur. Tasteful even, despite the gold.
He steps away from his boyfriend, ignoring the man’s quiet ”Damn it, Jaejoong, come back here” as he moves silently towards a wall that had caught his attention the second he’d come in.
It is blood red.
A deep, warm red that mimics the color of blood a little too closely.
A complete contrast to the snow white marble walls of the room that in reality should make the room look stark and industrial, but the red of the sole remaining wall throws a hue on the rest of the room, tinging everything in a hint of pink that is balanced by the gold.
The result is a strangely soothing aura of rose gold, that might even be considered pretty.
But that’s not what has Jaejoong’s attention.
He approaches the red wall, reaching out a hand, wanting to find out why the wall shimmers as if it is alive. The quiet and soothing gurgle of a small fountain indicates water, and once again, deaf to his boyfriend’s pleas, Jaejoong’s small hand presses against the red wall.
The wall is rough to the touch as water pours over his hand, tiny droplets of displaced water splashing back onto him as he stares in awe at the characteristic undulating patterns of marble. The way some of the red is darker than the others, makes it very pretty as different lines of red follow different veins.
A thin sheet of water covers the entire wall, streaming from a slit in the ceiling and ending in a small grate running the length of the wall at its base.
His hand follows the wall, skimming over the various grooves and etches in the stone, realizing by touch that the wall is more than likely natural.
Changmin is practically frozen, stricken by the sight of the teenager touching the most infamous wall in modern yakuza lore.
At least, he thinks that’s the right wall.
A quick and reluctant glance at an uncharacteristically pale Yunho confirms his suspicions.
Their innocent kumiho is touching the Wall of Life.
A misnomer to be sure.
Changmin is unable to suppress the shiver that runs up his spine, as if the cold touch of Death itself has stroked down his back, as he is unable to tear his eyes away from the teenager blithely unaware of his and Yunho’s discomfort. His hand blindly searches for Junsu’s, and when he gets his boyfriend’s hand, the touch isn’t soothing at all.
Xia Junsu’s palm is cold and clammy.
Make that his, Yunho’s and Junsu’s discomfort.
“Do you like my wall, child?”
Four bodies start at the mellifluous voice, three of them turning warily towards an unassuming looking man dressed in a bespoke suit while the youngest amongst them merely cocks his head inquisitively.
There is a sense of quiet menace. Palpable if you are looking for it or know what to look for, and nondescript if you are not. If you knew the man, you would know that the veneer of gentility hides a ruthlessness second to none. This is a man who ordered one of his sons to cut off his own pinky in front of him with a knife. And going against the normal rules, he had forbidden the young man from doing any further damage to himself until he had regained his honor for there is no honor in taking your life before repairing your wrongs. A painful lesson for sure but nobody had dared to gainsay him. That son is now one of his lieutenants but the clock still ticks inexorably towards the day he regains his honor.
What happens then is anyone’s guess. Changmin’s mind is running rampant, moving at the speed of a bullet as his brain flits to search through the mental dossier he has of what he has learned about this unassuming-looking man before him.
And every single speck of information he pulls up makes his mouth run dry and his throat increasingly parched. Even swallowing is difficult, and as he recalls the gift the man had bestowed on his youngest son all those weeks ago, he cannot help but feel that a swoon really would not be all that unexpected.
Even for him.
He is a tough guy. No question about that. There is a rare breed of person who would mess with Max Changmin. One look at him, especially if his glare is turned full force on them is enough to send the most gung-ho to run scuttling or at least, to learn to mind their manners. The well formed musculature of his upper body as well as all the random piercings add to his own sense of menace.
But in the face of Yunho’s father, whom he has the dubious privilege of being presented to that day, he is but a piece of lint on the man’s impeccably tailored suit jacket.
This is a man who would not look out of place in high level boardroom, but there is an unmistakeable underlying aura of leashed violence that he wears that Changmin recognizes Yunho having.
And Yunho most certainly has it in spades now, his back ramrod straight as he bows at the waist to greet the man.
Junsu and Changmin follow suit immediately, and half a beat later, Jaejoong too, though the teenager’s hand stays against the rough wall, enjoying the warm water running over the back of his hand.
The man makes no indication of hearing his son’s greeting, and as the three older, somewhat weary travelers straighten, they realize that the oyabun’s eyes are still on Jaejoong.
The teenager smiles, eyes dreamy as his hand continues to skim the wall.
A greying eyebrow goes up. “Do you know the story of the wall?”
Yunho moves to step forward, but his father holds up a hand stopping his progress, not even bothering to look his son’s way.
A simple gesture that is so commanding that it freezes the tall, hulking tattooist mid-step.
The tension in the room is thick, Changmin and Junsu holding their breaths, both separately thankful that they are partially out of sight behind Yunho.
Jaejoong turns towards the man, mouth pursed slightly, knowing full well this is Yunho’s father. However, despite the fact that this man is the prime yakuza, the teenager doesn’t sense any malevolence directed towards him. The man does appear a little cold, but then again Yunho can get pretty icy too and look what a teddy bear he really is?
“No, is it a good story?”
“It’s an interesting story,” the man allows, amusement creeping into his voice.
“Will I like this story?” There is no guile in his voice, his eyes shining with true innocent curiosity as he cocks his head at the man.
There is a pause, three men holding their breaths and a fourth contemplating the boy before him. A boy who is breathing easy unlike his companions.
“Probably not,” he replies honestly, eyes not leaving the young man’s as he takes his measure.
“Then don’t tell me.” Jaejoong answers quietly, eyes darting back to the wall, and then at the snow white marble adjacent to it. “It’s beautiful enough for me without the story.”
Was that a command from the kid?
Junsu’s mouth is dry. Normally when he visits, he just sees his aunt, only meeting with his uncle on the rare occasion that the man is home. He hasn’t seen this man in almost three years and really, it’s three years too soon. He’d forgotten how terrifying the man can be while doing absolutely nothing. His cousin definitely inherited this trait, but due to his size, Yunho’s menace is somewhat overt. More bark than bite as the saying goes.
His father’s menace though is quiet.
Is there not a saying that goes along the lines of the quiet ones are the ones you need to watch out for?
This quiet man is most assuredly all bite.
“Why do you find it beautiful?”
“The color.” Jaejoong answers immediately before pausing to turn to gaze at the expanse of red marble next to him, finally taking his hand away from the flow of water, shaking is dry before wiping it on the seat of his pants. “It reminds me of blood.”
The oyabun chuckles lowly just as a seamless door in the wall behind him opens and a beautiful woman comes through.
Everyone witnesses the change in the old man immediately.
The chuckle was just the beginning as his smile causes the crinkles around his eyes to deepen as he takes the tall woman in his arms, not quite hugging her, but holding her close for sure.
“Ayako,” he says simply, the fondness he gives the simple name is staggering, almost humbling.
“Oppa,” she replies in kind, before she turns towards their audience.
AN: I had to split it because it went over the LJ limit… I will never learn economy of words. Part Two will be up before the end of the week. It’s mostly written except for one (long-ish) scene… :P Let’s just hope it doesn’t go over the LJ limit again OTL