Current mood:	crappy
Current music:	Shinwha - Brand New
Entry tags:	dbsk, fic, yunjae

YunJae: Questions (one-shot)
So I got my ass throughly kicked today by the negative 12348793292 degree weather. Especially when I had to make the treacherous half-hour journey from my school to Borders just to find out that the book I needed to get for Lang class tomorrow wasn't in freaking stock. And now I have a headache and I never want to go outside and see the stupid dirty snow ever again. [/bitching]

I was planning to sit on this for a while since it's... different from everything else I've written and I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about it. But after what happened today, I decided screw it, posting this would probably keep me from thinking about how physically crappy I feel at the moment. So here it is. Enjoy? xDD;;

Title: Questions
Author: Bell
Pairing: YunJae
Length: One-Shot
Rating: PG-13
Genre: to be completely honest, I'm not sure
Word Count: 1,047

Description: I noticed how Yunho often looks obviously uncomfortable whenever Jaejoong does/says something with YunJae fanservice in mind. And in the midst of wondering why, this was thought up and written out.


yunho watches jaejoong watch the screen, the stream of taptaps against the keyboard the only sound emanating from the small bedroom despite its three typically chatty occupants. but silence is always brittle; yunho’s lips twitch downwards and questions burn at the back of his throat.

“why do you do that?”

“do what?” he asks with such brash innocence that even yunho almost buys into it.

“you’re on ufotown. you just typed the word ‘husband.’”

changmin glances up at them in amusement before returning to read the novel on his lap. “it’s jaejoong’s way of expressing his secret yearning for you of course,” he dryly quips, eyes still glued on the pages of text. jaejoong focuses on his computer with a rivaling attentiveness and ignores the remark.

“why are you so bothered by it? the fans enjoy it enough.”

“i guess it just feels like you’re toying with them or something.”

“i’m not toying, yunho, i’m teasing. and what’s so wrong about being a bit of a tease?”

changmin quietly frowns, and yunho just stares, not knowing what to think.

----------

it’s one of the rare moments that they decide to pose for the camera outside of their usual order. changmin stands at the forefront with junsu, pretending to give his elder a noogie while yoochun stands a little further behind them, aiming a punch at junsu’s head. yunho and jaejoong are left on their own in the background.

“let’s pose like a couple,” jaejoong whispers into the other’s ear, hot breath brushing past sensitive skin, and before yunho has the chance to protest, jaejoong curls an arm around his shoulders and uses his free arm to form the curve of a half-heart above his head. yunho rolls his eyes, but doesn’t hesitate to follow suit.

his smile falters when he feels jaejoong’s hand slip down from his shoulder to his waist, thumb stroking the top edge of his low-rise jeans. yunho instinctively pulls away, but jaejoong tightens his arm and keeps him firmly in place. jaejoong presses even closer into him, and yunho is all too aware of the incessant clicking of the shutter, of the tautness of his own photogenic smile, of the weight of jaejoong’s head resting on his shoulder. the three in front shift into arrangements even more ridiculous, imitating the charlie’s angels pose with yoochun in the center… or is that junsu? yunho can hardly tell anymore under the blinding lights overhead; he only hopes that the others remain oblivious to how their leader seems rooted to his spot. yunho begins to perspire and he curses the nervous habit, praying that jaejoong doesn’t notice the growing sweatiness of his palms.

a soft sigh interrupts his panic. “relax, yunho. it’s just me.” as if to punctuate the statement, jaejoong loosens his grip.

yunho barely catches the whisper, but he’s amazed by the immediacy of its effect. just jaejoong. the same jaejoong he’s lived with for years, the one he’s held hands with so many times that they’ve memorized the feel of each other’s palms. why should he feel uncomfortable? it’s just jaejoong, and yunho repeats it in his head like a mantra. he finally lets himself relax and gently squeezes jaejoong’s shoulder, holding him close.

but the camera lens is already covered. “that’s a wrap!” the photographer announces, and like the flick of a switch, jaejoong parts from him without a second glance, bowing slightly at the crew as he makes his exit. yunho is left staring at jaejoong’s retreating back, numbed and feeling somehow betrayed.

----------

yunho and jaejoong’s schedules end early that day. when the pair arrives home, yunho heads straight for his room, trying not to feel ashamed when jaejoong’s “are you okay?” is met with a blunt “no” and the slam of a door. only five minutes pass before that same door opens with a nervous creak and yunho feels his bed mattress dip beside him.

“what’s wrong?”

jaejoong rubs yunho’s arm reassuringly, but yunho shrugs out of his grasp.

“nothing,” he responds, scorn lurking at the edges.

“…fine.”

jaejoong leans away from him, but makes no motion to leave. they sit with the stillness of boulders, neither willing to budge first, each refusing to give in to the other. yunho growls to himself. he hates when jaejoong uses his silence as a weapon.

“jaejoong.”

“…”

“what am I to you?”

the question, finally asked, surprises neither of them. jaejoong remains quiet for a long time, his curious gaze fixed on yunho, who locks eyes with him defiantly.

“you’re you. you’re the yunho to my jaejoong. it’s as simple as that.”

but the intensity with which jaejoong’s eyes bore into his makes the answer seem anything but simple. yunho’s heart races, jaejoong eyeing the nervous beads of sweat that trail down the curve of his neck with the alertness of a predator. jaejoong lifts his hand to trace the paths left in their wake, fingers ending their short journey at the base of his collarbone. on impulse, yunho grabs jaejoong’s wrist to pull him in closer, and before either of them know what they’re doing, they’re biting skin, bruising flesh, and clawing off thin fabric. each touch inflames something seething and fierce within yunho that threatens to swallow the both of them whole, and he realizes then that this isn’t, can’t possibly be love. love is bouquets and chapels, white picket fences and laughing children. not questioning glances, explosive emotions and conversations that run in constant circles. love can’t be this.

they’re long resting in their own beds by the time the other three return, the trio whispering amongst each other in a barely contained loudness, like children tiptoeing past their sleeping parents. by the next morning, yunho wonders if any of it really happened.

----------

“yunho’s blankets are warmer than mine,” jaejoong says during a radio show, brushing off the implications with a muffled laugh. there’s a spark in his eyes when he turns to look at the man sitting two seats to the left of him, now stiff as a rod. there’s still a shadow of a twinkle when they leave the radio station an hour later, jaejoong stealing glimpses of him within the cramped space of their van, and yunho can’t help but search for a meaning behind it all.

Who are you, Kim Jaejoong? yunho can only ask questions.