Title: How To Conquer Your Personal Demons
Word Count: 10.2k
Summary: Luhan is an average college student until a demon named Yixing falls out of the sky and into his life.
Notes: written for onlayforlu
The only logical explanation is that Luhan is suffering from a concussion - too many balls to the head in his twenty years of life have finally caught up to him - otherwise how can he explain the flying, horned man dropping from the sky to push him out the way of the car hurtling eighty miles per hour down the skinny, spindly one way street straight at him. There's a moment between vehicular manslaughter and becoming a human cannonball where Luhan thinks how nice it is to have another body pressed warm and tight against his, before his pretty head slams into a brick wall and he crumples to the ground. Luhan lies back on the cold asphalt, the car that almost made him into mincemeat speeding away, as his aerial savior floats above and gives him a cheeky grin.
"Is it always this easy to get you flat on your back?" the stranger asks with a lecherous wink. The curves of his cheeks dimple and he'd be remarkably cute except for the decidedly devilish aspects of his appearance - not to mention his cringe-worthy pick-up lines.
Closing his eyes, Luhan brings a hand up to delicately examine his head. There is a large bump forming where he slammed into the brick wall of the alley, tender to the touch, and he winces as his fingers prod it gently. Yes, he is definitely suffering from some kind of mild brain injury. Imagining a fiendish guardian angel coming out of nowhere to save him from becoming roadkill was certainly cause for concern. He is in desperate need of some ice. Or perhaps a psychiatric evaluation.
"I think I require medical attention," Luhan says in a daze, "I fear I may be concussed."
The other man floats closer, hovering above Luhan's chest and peering at his face in a disturbingly wanton manner. Luhan wonders if he's supposed to lie still after sustaining brain damage or could he get up and walk away from flying perverts?
"I've got some band-aids, if you'd like?" the airborne figure responds, patting down his pockets and fishing out three brightly colored bandages from within. He holds out the band-aids and at a loss for anything else to do, Luhan accepts them. At this point, it can't make anything worse. He carefully unwraps one and places it on his aching temple - he's got a headache that could kill a goat.
"I'm sorry," Luhan says, shielding his eyes as he gazes up at the man above him, "But you are definitely flying, right?"
The man flutters his leathery wings, ascending a few inches into the air.
"Yeah, of course. All demons can fly."
Luhan closes his eyes. Demons. Yes, that sounds about right. His head throbs uncomfortably. Demons. Goodbye sanity, it was nice to know you. At least when he spends the rest of his life in the crazy house, there will be lots of free time to pursue his hobbies - he's always wondered how knitting works. And he looks damn good in a well-fitting sweater. He could make sweaters for all his friends. Minseok would appreciate the intricacies of a nice cable-knit. And he wouldn't mind seeing this new guy in something tight, with exposed collarbones. Not that he's fantasizing about his strangely-attractive imaginary friend, but if he is, it can definitely be blamed on the head trauma.
"I don't mean to rush you," the stranger says in his soft, lilting voice, completely incongruous with the mischievous sparkle in his eyes that says he's up to no good. He points one small hand towards another car speeding down the alley. What the hell was this alley, a practice lane for Indy 500 drivers?? "But if you keep laying there, you're really going to get hit this time and you humans have such soft, squishy bodies."
He says humans in the same way that someone would say cockroaches or gas station tacos. Luhan wants to be offended (the human race invented cheese - that's all win, baby!), but there's just no time for it. Even if he's gone completely crazy, he doesn't want to end up a smear on the road in a back alley. He pulls himself up off the ground, head pounding with every movement, and makes his way back out onto the street, where he collapses against the side of a building. The man follows behind, now absent of horns and wings, and plops down next to Luhan, leaning against him far too intimately. He rests his head on Luhan's shoulder and Luhan doesn't have the energy to shake him off. He's avoided death twice today, now he just wants to take a nap.
"I'm Yixing, by the way," the stranger says, "And I'm quite hungry. When are you planning on feeding me?"
Luhan's biggest fault has always been that he's too kind, so it is almost automatic when he answers, "What would you like?" before even realizing that he's just offered a meal to someone claiming to be a demon.
Yixing's response of "something hot" with a shameless glance at Luhan's crotch barely even ruffles his feathers at this point. He's clearly losing it. But there is some solace to be had in the knowledge that if he's gone nuts, then this Yixing guy must be completely off his rocker. At least he won't be lonely in the loony bin.
"This is so exciting, I haven't been to the human world in nearly two hundred years!" Yixing says, his eyes darting in every direction, as if trying to take in everything at once. He looks strikingly young, all wide-eyed enthusiasm and wonder and he might be described as just the tiniest bit cute, if Luhan didn't know any better. "Do you still guillotine people? I used to love going to a good guillotining back in the day! The chaos was exquisite."
The blood drains from Luhan's face. Forget anything he said about being cute, Yixing is a wolf in sheep's clothing. Checking that no one else on the street heard him, Luhan shushes Yixing as his words slowly sink in. He rakes his eyes over Yixing's unlined face and cherubic dimples.
"Two hundred years? You don't even look old enough to drink!"
Yixing gives him a sidelong glance, one eyebrow cocked. "Is that really something you should be saying?"
The words have barely left Yixing's mouth when he tumbles to the ground, courtesy of Luhan's swift, brutal kick (the consummation of years of intense soccer training) to the back of his knee. It's really not Luhan's fault - his delicate babyface is not to be made light of. It's a very sensitive subject.
From the sidewalk, Yixing examines his scraped palms, prodding gently at the damaged skin. He looks up at Luhan, a wicked smile on his face.
"Feisty," he says, licking his palm obscenely, "Can't wait to see what you're like in the sack."
Before Yixing can get off the ground, Luhan kicks him again and storms ahead, trying to put all thoughts of getting into bed with Yixing out of his mind. No matter how long it's been since his last boyfriend, he is not so desperate to actually want to get intimate with a guy who is horny in more ways than one. Any lingering images he has of Yixing's tongue and his confident smirk must be after-effects of the blow to the head. Sexual fantasies about the people in your head are probably a very normal sign of a concussion. He's going to check the wiki-page later.
Across the restaurant table, Luhan levels a cool stare at Yixing, trying to ignore the repulsive way he eats his fourth slice of pizza whole, as though he is a penguin swallowing a fish. "So let me get this straight, you're a demon-"
Yixing nods blithely, a smear of pizza sauce on his cheek as he takes a loud, childish slurp from his soda.
"-from the demon dimension-"
Another nod as Yixing helps himself to the last slice of pizza on the table. Pineapple. Luhan's favorite. He lets a breath out between his lips slowly and picks up a napkin from the dispenser, wiping at the sauce on Yixing's cheek with a bit more force than necessary.
"And you leaped through an inter-dimensional portal to save my life and even though I never asked for or agreed to this, I'm now indebted to you until such time that you no longer require my services."
Sucking the last of his drink through his straw, Yixing smiles sweetly. "That's the gist of it. Can I get another soda?" He shakes his empty cup, rattling the ice inside. "I've never had one of these before. I don't think we have them in our dimension. Or ice. Not a lot of ice there, either."
Luhan sighs, his shoulders slumping against the cheap vinyl booth as he waves for the waiter and orders Yixing another drink. Looking down at his quickly emptying wallet, Luhan wonders if maybe he should have just let the car run over him in the alley; when he can't pay the rent this month, his landlord is going to murder him anyway. Perhaps he could sell his story to The National Inquirer.
College Student Saved From Grizzly Death By Man Claiming To Be Demon - read more on page 4!
He exhales loudly. Maybe it's the head injury, maybe it's the surprisingly real wings and horns that Yixing seems to be able to make appear and disappear at will, but Luhan is actually starting to believe that Yixing could really be a demon. His appetite is certainly otherworldly.
"What exactly are these services you expect me to provide?"
"Lodging, sustenance," Yixing cocks one eyebrow at Luhan, "Entertainment..."
Luhan chokes on his pizza. "There will be no entertainment of any kind!"
Yixing looks Luhan up and down slowly, like a starving hyena checking out a sickly water buffalo who wandered just a little too far away from the herd. "What a pity..."
"Why can't you just go back to your dimension? I'm not dead, your good deed of the decade is done, you can go return to your world of torture and gloom."
"Quite frankly, I'm due for a vacation. I only want to stay a few days! Just until the end of the weekend.” He pouts at Luhan. “It's so hot at home, like living in Arizona. I'm a demon, but that's just cruel. And my dad is always on my case about something. I'm a constant source of disappointment for him."
Luhan's heart clenches in sympathy. He knows a thing or two about disappointing his own father. Finally, something the two of them have in common. Maybe he and Yixing aren't that different, after all. Over the grease-spotted tablecloth, Luhan rests his hand on top of Yixing's, squeezing gently and letting him know that he's not alone.
"What's he like?" Luhan asks kindly.
"Oh you know dads," Yixing says, rolling his eyes and intertwining their fingers, "Executing all their naysayers, maiming your friends when you stay out too late. At the end of the day, they just want what is best for you, but can't he understand I want to do my own thing? Tormenting the human race is so two thousand years ago."
Luhan cannot rip his hand away from Yixing's fast enough. Across the table, he stares at Yixing in horror, his mouth dropped so low he feels like his jaw might have unhinged. Though rattled, he tries to convey his thoughts eloquently and with a sense of maturity. "Dude! What the fuck is up with your dad?"
"Oh right, he's the Demon Overlord of our dimension. It's like kind of an important job? He's always trying to get me to be more like my brothers." Yixing screws his face up, continuing on in a high-pitched, mocking tone, "Yixing why aren't you torturing anyone today? Yixing, don't you want to enslave a human of your own? It's just so boring after a while. You slice someone to ribbons with a steak knife once, then you've done it a hundred times. I'd rather just watch you humans to be honest. It’s like free cable. You don't know how far behind TV is in the demon dimension. I still don’t know if Derek gives Jackson the bite or not on Teen Wolf!”
Yixing launches into a passionate declaration of his love for Stiles while stuffing packs of Parmesan cheese and hot peppers into his pockets, but Luhan tunes him out, lowering his face to rest on the table. His head aches in ways that have absolutely nothing to do with the damage to his melon. Two days of putting up with Yixing in exchange for having his life saved? Most people would agree he’s getting the raw end of the deal here. At least if he was dead, he wouldn’t have to listen to Yixing listing the Teen Wolf characters in the order of "most-bangable" to "boner-killing".
He sighs and sinks further into his seat while Yixing finishes off another soda. Two days. He can make it two days, right?
The only upside of being too poor to afford nice things is that there is literally nothing of value to steal in his apartment, so Luhan doesn't see the harm in allowing Yixing to stay. Yixing probably didn't go through all the trouble of pushing him out of the way of a speeding car just to turn around and murder him in his sleep. Sexually assault him, maybe, but Luhan is pretty sure his life is not in danger from accepting a self-proclaimed demon into his home. Besides, he's a heavy sleeper.
"Here's the kitchen," Luhan says, tossing his keys in a bowl by the door, "It's also the bedroom and the living room, so don't worry about finding your way around. Shitter's behind the curtain."
Yixing looks around the modest room dubiously. "Well, isn't this cozy? I've got an iron maiden bigger than this place."
"Don't be rude, Yixing," Luhan says warningly. Yixing manages to look properly abashed and Luhan has the feeling that his comments were more of a knee-jerk reaction than just plain jerk. Perhaps he really does have an iron maiden as large as Luhan's (admittedly, very small) apartment. But what is the point of that? Are the spikes super long or is it a torture device for giants? Is this something Luhan should really be spending time contemplating? This is probably why demons are attracted to him.
"Oh, um..." Yixing's eyes flit about the room, searching desperately for something to compliment. "Wow, from your window, you can see right into a much nicer apartment! I bet it's fun to pretend to not be poor there?"
Luhan nods, satisfied at Yixing's attempted civility, and kicks off his shoes, leaving them in a messy pile by the door. He does often peer into that other living room and imagine what it's like to have matching furniture and a robot vacuum cleaner. They probably never have to play weekend host to a sex-crazed demon over there. He sighs wistfully.
Wings popping out in excitement, Yixing flutters over to Luhan's tiny single bed and dives inside, burying himself under the blankets. Luhan’s mouth goes dry and he feels more than a little nauseous. It's bad enough when humans try to sit on his bed and infect it with all their dirty Earth germs, who knows what kind of terrifying, otherworldly bacterium Yixing has crawling all over him. Diabolical chickenpox? Demonic Bubonic Plague?? The prospects are sickening. A cold shiver runs down his spine.
"No!" Luhan says, dragging Yixing and his blanket burrito onto the floor. The sheets he contaminated follow behind. "The bed is mine. You'll be sleeping on the couch."
"How about we share?" Yixing asks from his cocoon of bedding on the floor, "I don't mind cuddling. You can be the big spoon."
It's true, Luhan does enjoy the much manlier position of the big spoon while cuddling, and honestly Yixing looks very comfortable to hold and it has been awhile sinc-no, no, no, no, no, absolutely not, no. Luhan is not the heroine of a bad Harlequin novel. He will not spend the night restlessly embracing a stranger in his twin bed just because he saved his life. Deep inside, somewhere below the greasy pizza he couldn't afford and the unfortunate tattoo on his hip, he still has some dignity left to cling to. He holds his head up high.
"Couch!" he says, pointing to the sad, sagging, floral printed sofa he'd rescued from the side of the road a few years back. The old girl has seen better days (and worse days, like last Christmas when Minseok got really drunk on eggnog and puked everywhere while singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer), but she's more than fine for a freeloader to spend two nights on. Especially a whiny, irritating freeloader who ate more than half of Luhan's food budget for the month in one meal. From the stack of milk crates he uses as storage, Luhan grabs a clean sheet and blanket and starts to make up his bed again.
Yixing looks at him with pitiful eyes, like he can’t believe that Luhan doesn’t want to give up his bed to the guy who spent the entire walk home alternating between grabbing his ass and trying to hold his hand. "I've never slept on a couch before and this one doesn't even look fit for my shitty little underling to sleep on! And everyone hates him!"
Finished with the bed, Luhan shrugs and tugs off his shirt, slipping into a pair of sweatpants. "Next time save a rich person, then."
Yixing pouts and flops down on the couch dramatically. It creaks underneath him, groaning with age. Luhan tosses him a pillow, along with a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in.
Yixing raises an eyebrow at the clothing. Luhan turns his nose up, unashamed of his I’d Rather Be At Hogwarts t-shirt. Harry Potter is cool and if Luhan was a wizard, he could just banish Yixing back to the demon dimension and then conjure himself a nice congratulatory butterbeer. Hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his pants, Yixing smirks. "Don’t worry about pajamas, I normally sleep naked."
"Well I normally sleep in a demon-free apartment, so put on the pajamas or get out."
“If you insist,” Yixing says with a wink. He yanks down his tight jeans in one go with a practiced finesse. He wears nothing underneath.
“Ah! My eyes!” Luhan screams, diving for the lightswitch. He was much less worried about giving into the temptation of Yixing’s warm and willing body when he thought Yixing’s bits might also have horns or something, but demon anatomy is frighteningly normal. He navigates around the edges of the room, not wanting to accidentally bump into a half-naked Yixing on his way back to the safety of his bed.
Yixing grumbles, but gets changed and lies back down on the sofa, rolling around and fidgeting to get comfortable, occasionally mumbling about bringing the couch back to be used in the torture chambers. Collapsing on his own bed, Luhan's cradles his head on his pillow and he's almost asleep before the thought passes through his mind that maybe someone with a concussion shouldn't go to sleep, especially when it's entirely possible he's been experiencing wild hallucinations for hours, but he's too tired to actually care. If he dies in his sleep, at least he got to eat pizza one last time.
Luhan wakes up warm. For a few moments, he basks in the heat, content and relaxed. Sunlight shines through his eyelids and he burrows deeper into the blankets, contemplating going back to sleep or indulging in a nice daydream about frolicking shirtless on a beach with Zac Efron. Their couple name could be Zufran and their test-tube babies would have the world's most beautiful eyelashes. He smiles, drool-stained face pressed into the pillow. This is the happiest and most comfortable he remembers being in a long time, right up until he realizes the reason he's so warm is the burning hot body crammed into the bed behind him (I’m supposed to be the big spoon! his mind cries), one leg thrown across his hip and an arm wrapped tightly around his waist.
It is a source of pride that his girlish scream of fear barely lasts ten blood-curdling seconds.
"Why are you making so much noise?" Yixing whines, tugging Luhan closer and pressing his nose into Luhan's back, "Do you need me to take care of Little Lu?" His hand smoothly slides down Luhan's waist, slipping into his sweatpants with practiced ease. While a small part of Luhan (hey, come on! at least average!!) is completely okay with these proceedings, the part of him that understands logic and rationality is freaking pissed that Yixing defiled the sanctity of his bed. Again. He angrily swats Yixing's hand away, shoving him onto the cold, hard floor. Yixing tumbles from the bed, half the blankets following him down. Luhan carefully adjusts his pants, telling himself Yixing's hand did not touch his dick. It didn't. A graze surely doesn't count.
Yixing crawls out from underneath the blanket, his face a mask of indignation. "What'd you do that for? I was just giving you a reach-around, like any good houseguest would do. We weren't going to go all the way, purely high school stuff!"
Luhan pulls his end of the blanket over his head, trying to hide his humiliation. He was almost a willing participant in an interspecies sexual encounter. He can tell, today is not going to be a good day. When he speaks again, his words come out slightly muffled through the thick cotton. "I don't even want to know what kind of sick shit you consider high school stuff."
Yixing laughs, a dopey, high-pitched sound that makes Luhan want to laugh along with him. Instead he pokes his head out of the blankets to glare. He hopes Yixing catches on fire. Unless that's something demons enjoy.
"Guess we won't be needing these nipple clamps, then," Yixing says, dropping the metal devices onto the floor. Luhan blinks, staring at the sharp metal teeth on what is probably the most wicked set of nipple clamps he's ever seen in his life. Why did Yixing even have those in the bed? Where did they come from? The fact that Yixing can just pull out kinky sex toys in the middle of the living room and still have the face of a baby angel is a source of extreme irritation to Luhan. Yixing should have a weird, thin mustache or some other visual indication that he's a total creep. Luhan throws a pillow at Yixing's face, just to wipe the smile off it.
Yixing whines at Luhan, lips poking out petulantly as he tosses the pillow aside, "Be nice to me! Your alarm went off like six times this morning and I turned it off for you every time! I should be the one receiving an old fashioned..."
Luhan's eyes widen as he scrambles for his phone.
"Oh my god, what time is it? I have school, you asshole!"
It takes a moment for the numbers to even make sense in his head. He's so late. Even if he runs, he's already missed more than half of his first class. He sighs, flopping back down on the bed. Might as well just skip it and hope Minseok took good notes. Who is he kidding? Minseok’s notes will be more detailed than the lecture, color-coded and have additional reading material attached. Reading Minseok’s notes is better than attending the class, to be honest.
“Come on,” he says grudgingly, “Let’s have some breakfast.”
Breakfast consists of two tepid bowls of plain oatmeal and a much-needed coffee for Luhan in the biggest mug he can find. A horse trough filled with extra strong espresso and 5-hour Energy shots doesn’t even sound like enough to deal with the headache Yixing has already caused him this morning, but he’ll just have to make do with what he’s got. Peering across the small table at Yixing, he takes a careful sip of his liquid caffeine fix. Yixing appears half-dead and even younger still, with his messy bedhead and wearing Luhan’s sleep-wrinkled Harry Potter t-shirt.
“Hey Yixing,” Luhan asks, "Exactly how old are you?"
There's a slight pause before Yixing answers. "You know when humans invented the wheel?"
"Me, too," Yixing says with a smirk, before his eyes fall onto his bowl. His face falls and he looks at his breakfast like the rest of the world looks like Lindsay Lohan.
“Ew, what is this?” Yixing says, poking at his bowl with a spoon. “Is this food?”
“It’s Quaker Oats.”
Yixing prods the oatmeal in his bowl with the spoon again, like he thinks it might start moving or that if he pokes it enough, he’ll break through the outer shell and into the more delicious, breakfast-y insides. “These Quakers must have never heard of bacon.”
Luhan frowns, taking a very long drink of his coffee and glaring at Yixing over the edge of the mug. He needs that caffeine to start kicking in ASAP. “It’s healthy. And at thirteen cents per serving, practically all I can afford.”
Yixing’s eyes widen. “This sticky goo-lump is all you can afford to eat? Exactly how poor are you? Like, oh no, I can't go to Jamaica this year because I had to get the windshield on my BMW replaced or are you about one week and a pair of leather hot pants away from turning to prostitution?"
Luhan's face goes blank and his lips press into a thin line. "Just eat the damn oatmeal."
Yixing takes a half-hearted nibble. His cheeks puff and his nose twitches as he chews, like an overgrown rabbit. He swallows, his face screwing up.
“This tastes like hot, mushy cardboard!” He puts his spoon down, looking like a kicked puppy. “Are you really sure this is food?”
“I have some raisins. Do you want me to add some raisins to it?”
Yixing looks at him, annoyed. “Oh right, like dried up old grapes are going to fix this. Don’t you have anything cola-flavored?”
“Sure,” Luhan says, going to the fridge and opening a Coke. Honestly, he thinks oatmeal is a pretty shit breakfast, too, but if Yixing is going to act like a spoiled child, then Luhan can also be a brat. “Here,” he says, pouring the soda over Yixing’s breakfast, “Bon appetite.”
He slams the can down on the table and smirks at Yixing.
Yixing smiles gleefully. “Alright! Now we’re talking good eats!” He picks up his spoon and starts shoveling coke-covered oatmeal into his mouth. “Delicious,” he moans. “Thank you, Luhan!”
Luhan sits back down and sighs. This isn’t exactly how he planned this scenario to go, but at least he doesn’t have to listen to Yixing’s complaining anymore. He shrugs, takes another sip from his coffee, and adds some soda to his oatmeal, too.
“Ok, I’ll be back from school at four,” Luhan says, throwing a hat over his messy hair and looking around for his backpack, “Are you really going to be alright walking around the city by yourself this afternoon?”
Yixing throws him a look that says are you kidding me, I found a piece of popcorn stuck in my teeth the other day that was older than you. Still, Luhan feels the urge to make sure Yixing’s shoelaces are tied tightly and that he knows the way back to the apartment and how to call Luhan if strangers in a white van approach him and offer him candy. There’s something about Yixing that makes one very concerned for him. He locks the door behind them, adjusting his backpack straps.
“Have a good day at school,” Yixing says, leaning in to give Luhan a hug. Luhan tries to ignore Yixing’s hand on his ass. He nods, squeezing Yixing’s shoulder.
“Stay out of trouble, okay?”
Yixing grins wickedly, pinches Luhan’s left buttcheek once more and heads off. Luhan watches him until he’s out of sight.
Luhan is happy to return from his afternoon class to find Yixing on the steps to the apartment, right where he should be. And nothing is on fire! That’s a huge relief. Yixing smiles when he sees Luhan, waving happily with a fat wad of cash in his hand. Luhan’s eyes go wide at the huge amount of bills. He quickly shoves a bewildered Yixing inside the apartment, bolting the door behind them.
“What the hell is this?” Luhan hisses, “Are you…. are you mugging people?”
He looks around wildly, wondering if the cops are about to arrest him as an accessory to Yixing’s thievery. He can’t go to jail, he’s too pretty!
“No no,” Yixing says, waving his hand dismissively. He shoves the slightly damp bills into Luhan’s hands. There must be at least $400, easy. “This is better. I went to that club a few blocks away, Beefcake. They let me dance around on a stage in a sexy costume and people just gave me money!”
Luhan chokes, dropping the cash. It spreads out across the floor in a mix of singles, twenties, and one very disturbing hundred dollar bill. "You're a stripper?!"
"No silly, stripping flesh from bones was my major in college. I'm an exotic dancer."
Luhan buries his head in his hands. Is this what it feels like to a parent? He has the overwhelming urge to call his mom and apologize for everything from 2004 until now. How did Yixing even manage to make $400 stripping during the afternoon? The images Luhan’s mind conjures are not unwanted, but “while giving a talk about why he should not be a stripper” is the least appropriate time to be imagining Yixing working the pole in nothing but a chef’s toque and an apron while holding a saucy, suggestive baguette.
Man, he’s getting kind of hungry, though.
"You can't be an exotic dancer, Yixing," Luhan sighs, rubbing his temples.
"Yes I can!" Yixing argues, his lips forming the over-exaggerated pout of someone used to getting his way, "Sleazy Larry says I'm a natural!"
“The opinions of someone named Sleazy Larry are completely invalid! And I meant you shouldn’t be a stripper. It’s not viewed as respectable to wear a cowboy hat and shake your moneymaker in assless chaps.”
“Oh, I see,” Yixing says, frowning and looking at his hard-earned (don’t think about it, Luhan, just don’t think about it) money. “You humans are so strange. I was only trying to help your dire financial situation.” He steps closer to Luhan, his lips against Luhan’s ear as he says, “And so you know, I was dressed as a sexy fireman with a very big hose.” His breath ghosts across Luhan’s earlobe. “At least, I was dressed at the start...”
Thanks to Yixing’s natural skill at hip gyrations and body rolls, they have enough money to buy real food. Yixing promises to make a proper meal for the two of them, claiming he’s too exhausted from what he referred to as a very intense workout to eat any more of Luhan’s peasant food. Luhan tries so hard not to envision Yixing’s intense workout. He definitely is not picturing Yixing’s thighs or ass or anything that is normally covered by clothing. Not even his covertly lewd forearms!
He’s a little concerned about what Yixing is going to cook for them, but Luhan is too low on funds to turn down a free meal, even when he sees Yixing dropping a bunch of beets into the cart. Ain’t no one wants no damn beets.
“So, what are you going to make, Yixing?” Luhan asks, pushing the cart and following Yixing on his aimless wandering of the store aisles. He swears they’ve gone down the same aisle three times and Yixing picks up something new every time.
“Something we call Hellfire Borscht in the demon dimension. It's like normal, boring human borscht, but made in the traditional demonic style."
Luhan hopes "human borscht" means the kind of borscht humans eat and not borscht with human-meatballs. No matter how popular Hannibal gets, he's not ready to have fluttery-heart feelings over someone who partakes in human flesh. Not that he has any feelings about Yixing at all. Luhan is a man, damnit! The only feelings he gets are in his pants! And when he sees that TV commercial where the old man and his dog bring flowers to the wife’s grave. He dares anyone not to shed a tear watching that beautiful moment of interspecies bromance.
While Yixing veers down another aisle for Peanut Butter Crunch and Cheetos, Luhan peers into the cart, trying to get a feel for their upcoming dinner. The impression he gets is not good. The contents of the shopping cart are a strange collection of meaty things (why did the butcher counter carry eyeballs and plastic deli containers of blood??), junk food and so many kinds of soda that Luhan is sure they’re both going to have diabetes by the time the weekend is over.
God, he hopes this meal somehow turns out better once it’s cooked.
It doesn’t get better.
The apartment stinks of boiled root vegetables and farm animals. It smells exactly like Belgium. Luhan grimaces, peering into the pot. The inside of his nose stings, but that’s nothing compared to how his stomach feels.
“Couldn’t you make chicken noodle instead?” Luhan asks.
Yixing drapes himself over Luhan’s shoulders and generally violates his personal space. “Ew, what’s chicken noodle? That sounds disgusting,” Yixing says, stirring the container of blood into his frighteningly magenta soup. “Bowls?”
Luhan obediently goes to retrieve bowls and spoons. He watches apprehensively as Yixing spoons them both out huge servings.
“There’s normally more eyeballs,” Yixing says, pushing a bowl in front of Luhan. Oh god it smells even worse up close. And now he can see all the bits bobbing around inside. Is that skin? And what’s the part that looks like a chopped up tongue? Luhan’s stomach is not strong enough for this. “Can you believe they didn’t sell more eyeballs at the store?”
Yixing takes a bite. “Just like mom used to make!” he says, rubbing his tummy, “...well, like she would have made if she wasn’t all tentacles and slime. FYI, female demons: gross. Male demons: adorable” He frames his face in his hands and grins and Luhan refuses to admit that it’s really fucking cute.
And if whiny, pretty boy Yixing can eat the Hellfire borscht, so can Luhan. He's poor - he's eaten expired yogurt, discount lunch meat, and even a can of cat food on a dare - how bad could this be? No demon is going to come into his house and be manlier than him! The damn soup is pink! Luhan can’t be scared of something pink. Cautiously, he lifts the spoon up to his mouth, trying to ignore the questionable fleshy lump that spills out onto his tongue.
Luhan is not sure when he developed a taste for blood and organ meat, but the borscht is pretty damn good. He shovels another spoonful into his mouth, chewing on a surprisingly sweet rubbery bit.
"This is really good, Yixing," Luhan says, resisting the urge to pick up the bowl and start slurping. Better than anything he’s ever cooked.
Yixing grins. "Do you want me to fish you out an eyeball?"
Luhan is not sure what it means when he really does want an eyeball.
The apartment still smells like boiled beets when they try to sleep that night. Luhan rolls around restlessly.
“Hey, Yixing?” Luhan wonders out loud, “If they don’t have soda in your dimension, then what do you drink all the time?”
Yixing answers immediately, the excitement in his voice obvious. “There’s this one super delicious drink, flavored with the blood of a virg-” his voice tapers off in an awkward silence. He swallows once. “Milk. We drink a lot of healthy, wholesome milk.”
Luhan makes a mental note to never, ever visit the demon dimension.
For the second day in a row, Luhan wakes up comfortable and warm. This time, though, he's prepared.
"Out!" he yells at Yixing, wrapping the blanket around himself protectively.
Yixing grumbles and rolls out of the bed. "Seriously? I've gotten with girls in chastity belts faster than you're giving it up!"
Luhan sighs, heading towards the kitchen counter and turning on the coffee machine. He tells himself that he doesn’t find Yixing’s grumpy complaints cute. There’s nothing cute about Yixing, especially not the way his scrunched-up cranky face turns wide-eyed and sweet the moment Luhan gets out the Peanut Butter Crunch and pours him a huge bowl. And definitely not the way he eats by stuffing heaping spoonfuls in his mouth and wiggling around happily.
He probably eats babies, Luhan tells himself desperately, you can’t like a baby eater!
“So what’s the deal with the curtain?” Yixing asks. Luhan looks up from his textbook to see Yixing glaring at the curtain separating the bathroom from the living space. “Is this some weird human bonding thing, listening to each other peeing?”
“Gross, Yixing. Give us humans a little credit. My landlord is just a dick. He drives around in a shiny red convertible but claimed he couldn’t afford to properly replace my bathroom door when it was eaten by wild rats that invaded the building. And then he charged me for having pets! He’s such an asshole.”
A slow smile spreads across Yixing’s face. “Have you ever thought about seeking revenge?”
“What, like going Kill Bill on him?” Sure, there have been times when Luhan has felt like whipping out a katana and claiming his blood vengeance. Like in January when the building’s heating went out four times and he had to sleep with a bag of microwave popcorn under the covers for warmth. Or the time an extra $15 was tacked onto his rent for a “strange boiled cabbage smell disturbing the other tenants”. It's not Luhan's fault cabbage was on sale that week and his only cooking methods are boil or broil. Besides, he thinks some of the other tenants liked that smell! The old lady down the hall came over with sausages and stories of the old country. Which country, Luhan is not sure, but he doesn’t turn down free meat.
“No, something more fun,” Yixing’s eyes gleam, dark and wicked and his horns slowly inch out from his head. For the first time, he truly looks like a demon. “Does he park that nice car of his around here?”
Luhan is half amazed, half disgusted as he watches Yixing command an army of pigeons to release their bowels over the landlord’s car. The birds shitbomb the car so hard, that asshole is going to need a chisel to get the door open. It’s strangely satisfying how much the expensive car looks like the money shot of a bukakae film.
“That’s quite the unique talent,” Luhan says, watching as six of the birds write Yixing’s name along the side of the car, in cursive.
Yixing pokes his tongue out of his mouth childishly. “Demonic powers are hit and miss. Mine’s kind of wussy. My brother can hurl thunderbolts! He’s like a Greek god and I’m like one of the fairies in the Tinkerbell movies.” Last that Luhan checked, none of the fairies of Pixie Hollow could make a bird crap on command. Not that he's seen any of those extremely girly movies. Especially not the one with Tom Hiddleston. Yixing grins, “Could be worse, though. Our other brother is just a flashlight. Watch out pitiful humans, here comes the big scary demon to fill the room with warm, comfortable lighting.”
One of the pigeons lands nearby and ambles over, cooing at Yixing. When he's close enough, Yixing stretches out an arm and allows the bird to hop into his hand, like the Mary Poppins of vermin. It would be quite precious, if Luhan can just stop imagining all the germs. He tries not to think about just how many of them will cling to Yixing and make it back into the apartment. At least it’s not a rat. It could have been a rat.
Luhan nods at the car, content. “Man, petty revenge feels awesome! Should we go find my high school math teacher’s car, too?”
Yixing laughs, causing the bird in his hand to startle and fly off. He grabs Luhan’s hand in his. “I have so much to teach you”
They burst into the apartment, damp with perspiration and laughing, having run from the scene of the crime. Luhan collapses onto his bed, before remembering that Yixing violated the purity of his sleeping space. Ugh, demon germs. He slides off the bed, onto the floor. With both his sets of sheets dirtied by Yixing (Luhan tries not to let his mind wander to more pleasant ways Yixing could have dirtied the sheets), a trip to the laundromat is imminent. It’s either that or swadling himself in plastic wrap so he can sleep tonight. The laundromat sounds less sweaty, but only marginally. There’s always one gross, sweaty person at the laundromat who zeroes in on Luhan and spends three hours telling him about their cats while Luhan tries to breathe through his mouth and fake interest in two year-old magazines. At least this time, he can take Yixing with him to scare off the riffraff. Smelly, laundromat-dwellers are welcome to take their chances with the mischievous, perverted demon with a penchant for grabbing ass and causing trouble.
“You’ve got some strange issues with your bed, man,” Yixing says, watching Luhan methodically stripping off the sheets and pillowcases and tossing them into his laundry basket. “What happens when you bring home blue-eyed, brown-haired stranger to live out your weird Zac Efron fantasies? Do you have to burn the mattress? By the way, you talk in your sleep. Well scream, actually… Not that I mind,” Yixing says, eyebrows waggling and tongue poking flirtatiously between his lips.
Luhan flushes, turning away. Zufran is supposed to be a secret between himself and the poster!
“It’s none of your business,” he says, busying himself with the laundry basket, “But there are plenty of other places to be intimate with someone besides the bed.”
A sly grin creeps across Yixing’s face. “Hmm, I underestimated you. I had you pegged for a lights off, missionary position kind of guy.” He rubs the space on the couch next to him shamelessly. “Soooo, if I sang a few High School Musical songs and asked you to join me here on the couch for a little-”
“-not a chance, loser,” Luhan says with narrowed eyes. “Try again when you’ve got Zac Efron’s chiseled body.”
“What am I, chopped liver?,” Yixing says, drawing up the edge of his t-shirt to reveal the paper-white skin below. Luhan is kind of mesmerized by Yixing's stomach. It looks flat and firm and if Zac Efron has some deep Belgian waffle style abs, then Yixing is crisp, buttery-smooth pancakes and Luhan really really likes pancakes.
“Average,” Luhan says, desperately repressing all sudden, persistent images of Grade A maple syrup, his tongue and Yixing’s stomach. “Do you want to go to the laundromat with me?”
Yixing blinks at him, his face blank, “Do what now?”
“Go wash our clothes and bedding?” Luhan says, picking up the last of the dirty clothing on the floor and stuffing it into the basket.
“What, by ourselves?” Yixing asks, wide-eyed, as if Luhan just asked him to build a rocket and fly it to the moon. Although Yixing is kind of a space case, so it does make a little sense. And the earth would be so safe with him 240,000 miles away. Luhan could be a hero to the people. They would write songs about him. Luhan: Banisher of the Degenerate Demon. He sighs.
“Who else would do it? The laundry gnomes?”
“Underlings?” Yixing says meekly. “I don’t think that my father, the Demon Overlord, would be very happy to learn his son has to labor over your pizza-stained jeans and novelty Harry Potter t-shirts.”
Luhan purses his lips, annoyed with Yixing’s brattiness. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t learn to do things on his own. And why did he have to bring the Harry Potter t-shirts into this? People like those shirts! They’re a conversation starter! And they are pajama shirts, anyway, it’s not like he wears them out in public! Not that often, at least.
“Does your daddy fight all your battles for you, Yixing?” Luhan asks mockingly.
“Of course he does! I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Yixing says with a satisfied smirk. “And I just want to let you know that I'm clean and disease free. I've been described as a very giving lover, tireless and enthusiastic."
"Oh? And I just wanted to let you know, if you don't get up and put your shoes on in three seconds, I'm gonna hit you in the dick."
"You're just hurting yourself!" Yixing says, moments later from the doorway.
Luhan tops the laundry basket with the soap and dryer sheets before putting on his own shoes. He watches Yixing struggling with his laces for a few seconds before pulling the shoe out of his hands and leaning down to help him. “Don’t you ever want to do things on your own? Do something with your life?”
“Like what,” Yixing say, as Luhan ties his laces for him, “Getting to a new level on Candy Crush?”
Luhan shakes his head and stands up, brushing his hands on his pants. “Like get a job, do something fulfilling with your time.”
“I highly doubt touching your dirty socks is going to be fulfilling.”
“Come on, little prince,” Luhan says, grabbing Yixing’s hand and tugging him out the door, “There’s only one way to find out.”
Yixing, it turns out, is awful at doing laundry, but to his credit, he does try his best. Luhan can’t help the fond smile spreading across his face as Yixing tries to take all the clothes out from the washing machine at once and ends up spilling almost half of them on the floor.
“This sucks!” Yixing says, up to his elbows in cold, wet laundry, “I used to be an exotic dancer!”
Two machines down, an elderly woman with short white hair and a cat sweater raises her head and nods at him gently. “Me too, dear. Me, too,” she says, coming over to help Yixing load the dryer. The two of them huddle together at one of the tables and chat about baking cookies and her grandchildren and how important good communication skills are while stripping. The dryer finishes and Luhan gets everything folded and packed, coming up behind Yixing while the woman is telling stories about the 60’s that Luhan really wishes he didn’t hear from woman who looks like Betty White.
“Oh dear, looks like your friend is ready to leave,” the woman says, patting Yixing on the hand.
“We’re not friends,” Luhan says, pained.
Yixing grins at him and winds his arm through Luhan’s. “Yeah, we’re more like best friends.”
“Love is love, boys. It’ll be legal one day,” the woman says, patting Luhan on the hand and turning back to her laundry.
Luhan splutters. “I don’t... we’re not-”
“Come on, honey, let’s go home,” Yixing says, dragging Luhan away.
“So, what do you want to do for dinner tonight?” Luhan asks, taking a peek in the cupboards. What can they make with a half bag of Cheetos, a container of frosting and two bags of jellybeans? A 7-layer dip, but for people on the fast-track to obesity?
“Actually, since this is our last meal together, how about we go somewhere nice? My treat,” Yixing says.
Luhan closes the cupboard door, eyeing him suspiciously. Yixing does appear sincere in his offer and Luhan wonders what he has to lose. It sounds an awful lot like a date, but Luhan is not exactly opposed to a date with Yixing. He’s quite good-looking and underneath all the demon stuff, Yixing has a kind of unique cuteness, like a spoiled brat you can’t help but want to pamper. Not to mention the time he saved Luhan’s life - that was pretty cool of him. The final deciding factor is free food. Luhan can’t resist free food.
He nods at Yixing. “Sure, sounds fun.”
Yixing grins broadly, his face lit up like a thousand Christmas lights. “Great, I’m going to go get ready,” he says, heading for the apartment door, “Try to wear something nice, okay?”
After Yixing leaves, Luhan fishes out his something nice from his storage crates: a white dress shirt and dark jeans. He does his best to steam the wrinkles out of the shirt while he’s in the shower, but with a curtain for a door, it doesn’t go very well. He throws a cardigan on top to cover most of the wrinkly bits and spins around to check himself out in the mirror.
Luhan understands the expectations of being brought to a fancy restaurant and if he’s being honest with himself, maybe he is not 100% against showing Yixing a little appreciation. He can’t help acknowledging that Yixing has some endearing qualities. And Luhan does wonder if maybe Yixing would pull out some of his stripper moves in bed. Besides, Yixing is leaving in a few hours, there wouldn’t really be any harm in it, right? He looks at himself carefully in the mirror, fixing a few stray hairs across his forehead. Not bad, he thinks to himself.
“I’d fuck me,” he says quietly.
“I’d fuck you, too!” Yixing says through the curtain.
“Ah! Get out of here, asshole!” Luhan says, stepping through the curtain to punch Yixing on the arm. His eyes widen when he sees Yixing, his hand falling uselessly back to his side. Yixing is dressed to kill in a slim blue button down tucked into nice fitting slacks. His belt and shoes are shiny and black and his hair has been arranged neatly. Yixing looks devastatingly handsome; Luhan tries to stop himself from staring. This is the guy who whines about having to eat healthy food and can’t stop sneaking into Luhan’s bed, he should not be this good-looking.
“Do I want to know where you got the outfit from?” Luhan says, trying to pick his jaw back up off the floor.
Yixing’s eyes sparkle merrily. “Probably not.”
“Okay, fair enough. You look nice,” he tells Yixing in what is possibly the understatement of the year. Yixing looks nice in the same way that Michelangelo’s Pietà is a nice statue.
“Thanks,” Yixing says, his eyes raking over Luhan’s body, “You look good enough to eat. In fact, what do you say we skip dinner and get right to dessert?” He thumbs along the edge of Luhan’s pants.
“If you keep that up,” Luhan says, pushing Yixing away and smoothing his hands down his shirt, “The only dessert you’re going to have is a knuckle sandwich.”
The restaurant is nice, by far the fanciest place Luhan has ever been to (a title previously held by The Olive Garden, so maybe that’s not saying a lot). He feels a bit shabby in his wrinkled shirt and sneakers, but Yixing grabs his hand and drags him along proudly and makes Luhan feel like Cinderella when the prince danced with her at the ball. Oh god no, wait! Something more macho! He feels like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Oh, wow, that’s not any better. Forget all this, he just feels like a dude being walked through a restaurant by another dude and no one is a girl or pretty or a prostitute.
A flower peddler approaches them eagerly. “A pretty flower for the pretty-”
“Cram it!” Luhan says, pushing past. Much to his chagrin, Yixing buys three and thanks the peddler with a steady handshake before presenting the flowers to Luhan on one-knee, like the scene of a bad movie. Luhan grudgingly accepts them and seats himself at their table, shoving the red tulips behind a candle. He tries to ignore the romantic atmosphere in the restaurant and the way Yixing’s eyes twinkle mischievously in the candlelight.
“So, booze?” he asks, pulling at his collar uncomfortably.
Yixing nods enthusiastically. When the waiter comes by, he orders a bottle of champagne and even Luhan is kind of impressed with his extravagance. Poppin’ bottles is a perfectly acceptable, masculine activity.
“We’re celebrating,” Yixing explains, “Forty-eight hours without killing each other!”
The waiter balks. “That’s… lovely, sir. Can I get you gentlemen anything else?”
Yixing’s eyes are bright and he blinks innocently at the waiter. “Your finest bottle of cola, please.”
It’s a testament to the amount of time they’ve spent together in the past two days that Luhan barely feels the urge to bury his head in his hands and sink through the floor in embarrassment. It’s a passing moment, like a bout of seasickness, and then he’s fine to gaze across the table at Yixing’s happy, expectant face and feel his heart thudding in his chest like a group of Irish dancers. Stupid ridiculously cute demons. Where were all the big, scary demons? The kind that made people projectile vomit and not feel all mushy and confused.
“Er, right,” the waiter says, dashing off. He brings back the champagne on ice and a coke for Yixing in an elegant glass. Yixing mixes half champagne and half soda into a champagne flute and sips at the bubbly concoction reverently.
“To chaos!” he says, holding out his glass for a toast. Luhan frowns at him. “To a little under the table hanky-panky?” he tries, looking at Luhan for approval. Luhan shakes his head. “To friendship?”
Luhan smiles, clinking their glasses together. “To friendship.”
Luhan has his fill of decadent foods he can’t pronounce, rich sides that are half butter and half full-fat cream, and of course a little bubbly. He’s just loose enough to smile across the table at Yixing indulgently and let Yixing hold his hand around their empty plates and glasses.
“Did you enjoy your meal?” Yixing asks, his fingers rubbing across the back of Luhan’s hand and even Luhan can admit that maybe there’s something a little provocative about the way Yixing’s long, thin fingers stroke his skin.
“It was delicious,” Luhan says, staring into Yixing’s big brown eyes.
Yixing looks at him tenderly. “And you feel okay, didn’t eat too much?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Luhan says, touched with Yixing’s concern.
“And are your shoes tied?”
Luhan tilts his head to the side, confused, but he checks out his footwear anyway. “Yes?”
Yixing smiles. “Okay, good. Because you’re gonna need to run pretty fast now. DINE AND DASH, BRO, DINE AND DASH!!!” Yixing yells, tearing out of the restaurant like a bat out of hell. Luhan stares at him, mortified, his hand still on the table. What the fuck is he supposed to do now? On one hand, Luhan is a stand-up, moral guy who has never done anything illegal a day in his life. But on the other hand, he ain’t got no champagne money. Luhan follows after Yixing, his sneakers squeaking against the floor. He’s never been more thankful for his years of playing soccer than when the maitre d starts chasing after them, flinging forks and screaming obscenities in French.
He follows them for two blocks. They run another three, laughing and breathless, before Luhan collapses back against the wall behind him. “I thought you said it was your treat, asshole.”
Yixing’s chest puffs out and he raises an eyebrow playfully. “You didn’t have to pay, right?”
Luhan smacks him in the chest, trying to hold back a laugh. “God, you’re a terrible person.”
“Good thing I’m a demon then,” Yixing says, his tongue poking out of his mouth flirtatiously.
Luhan rolls his eyes at Yixing’s terrible joke His breathing slowly returns to normal and he stands up straighter, noticing for the first time that they’re back in the alley where he first met Yixing. He looks around, practically nostalgic about revisiting the place where his head almost cracked open and spilled grey matter across the asphalt. He turns back to Yixing, who, for the first time, is looking at him quite seriously.
“So, this is it,” Yixing says, chewing on his bottom lip. Behind him, a portal opens up, like a tear between this world and the next. “Thanks for letting me stay with you. I’m gonna miss the cute way you get mad to hide your feelings and the way you express your affection with physical violence. You’ve got the makings of a great demon,” Yixing says with a wink, “And you’d look really sexy with a pair of horns.”
Luhan is almost completely sure Yixing meant that as a compliment. He reaches out an arm to squeeze Yixing’s shoulder. “Thanks for saving my life, dummy,” he says fondly, “I kinda like being alive.”
Yixing smiles and pushes his arm away, crushing Luhan in a tight hug. He buries his face in Luhan’s neck. “I kinda like you being alive, too,” he says. Luhan returns the hug, running his hand down Yixing’s back until Yixing pulls away. “I guess it’s time.”
Luhan brushes his thumb along the edge of Yixing’s jaw. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”
Yixing nods, steps back, and disappears from Luhan’s life as quickly as he came.
Luhan is not going to cry. That’d be ridiculous. He’s a man, damnit. He can burp the entire alphabet, backwards. He barely knows Yixing and he was annoyed throughout their entire acquaintanceship, there’s now way Luhan actually developed any sort of feelings for him beyond a mild physical attraction. Who wouldn’t be into Yixing’s toned body and deep dimples and big, wide smile and the way he laughs and how cute he looks when he wakes up and the way his face lights up when he’s happy and - okay, maybe Luhan did establish some kind of affection towards Yixing over the past few days, but he’s going to be fine. He’s never needed anyone before and he doesn’t need Yixing now, no matter how comforting his soft little snores were while he slept or how his smile could light up a room. Luhan is going to be just fine alone. He crawls into bed, trying not to notice how quiet the apartment is, turns on The Notebook (just in case he needs an excuse for why he might feel the tiniest bit sad), and then rolls over and falls asleep.
For the third day in a row, Luhan wakes up warm.
"AHHHHH!!" Luhan screams, punching at the blankets.
"AHHHHH!!" the blankets scream back.
Luhan freezes in place. “Yixing?” he asks, recognizing the annoying whine. He pulls the blankets away to reveal Yixing, cradling his ribs and glaring at Luhan.
“There better not be any other guys in your bed!" he says, slapping Luhan on the shoulder. Luhan doesn't even feel the impact. He can’t stop staring. Yixing is there, in his bed, like he was always meant to be there. Luhan can't wait another moment to wrap his arms around Yixing, collapsing on top of him. He feels warm and solid in his arms, exactly how he should be.
"What are you doing here?"
Yixing smiles up at him, bright and happy. “Well, I finally figured out what I wanted to do with my life. As of 3 o’clock this morning, I am your very own personal demon!” Yixing says, waving his hands around his face excitedly. “They’re going to pay me to be the constant thorn in your side and every time I influence you into making a bad decision, I get a bonus!”
A small smile slowly crawls across Luhan's face, growing and growing until he's grinning like a mad-man. "Are you kidding me, you asshole?" He hardly dares to believe it. “Are you really staying?”
"As long as you can stand me," Yixing promises.
Luhan laughs, holding Yixing tighter, squeezing him in his arms, feeling the weight of Yixing's muscles against his, the warmth of his skin, until Yixing starts complaining that Luhan is too heavy and could he get his “very manly, strong body off my damn lungs before I die and we never get to enjoy our happily ever ever.” Luhan flops down beside him, letting Yixing link their hands together.
"Does this mean I can stay in your bed?" Yixing asks.
"Maybe five minutes..." Luhan says, tangling a hand in the hair on the back of Yixing's head. Yixing grins with a devilish smirk, leaning across Luhan's body.
"Don't worry, I can be quick," he says, smashing their lips together.
Slightly more than five minutes later, Luhan rolls over, happy and content to watch a beam of sunlight travel across the floor while Yixing strokes a hand down his side. It’s strange, but normally the sun doesn’t show up there until at least the afternoon… His hand shoots out to grab his phone.
“Oh my god, did you turn off my alarm again?” Luhan shouts, jumping up from the bed and searching for his pants.
“You looked sleepy!” Yixing yells back, throwing Luhan’s pants at his head.
“I have school, you asshole!” Luhan says, hastily getting his clothes on and tripping out the door. “I hope you die in a fire!”
“I love you, too,” Yixing says, snuggling into the bed as the door slams shut.
asleep & dreaming
- How To Conquer Your Personal Demons