i need an (airbag) wrote in bulgogied,
i need an
airbag
bulgogied

(exo) and gravity wants to bring me down.

and gravity wants to bring me down.
exo. jongin/kyungsoo. r. 076. strangers.
wrote this at work between breaks, lmao! also, i know i haven't replied to all my comments from the last fic but ajsdlks you guys are all so so so so lovely! ♥ also, no need to read these fics first, but this happens in my very very old city crime universe!


when detectives lee and kim retire, kyungsoo and jongin take over their office. they graduated together from the police academy but they've never been friends. kyungsoo was too focused to make friends, jongin was too wild. they're strangers, they've come from entirely different worlds. kyungsoo doesn't think they'll get along, he's sure the commander has made a mistake. he says this to jongin, the first day they enter the office, boxes in their hands. jongin just ducks his head, shy like a schoolgirl, and smiles. "it'll be okay," he says, as he claims a desk.

kyungsoo thinks he's too naive.





their first case out of their new office is a homicide. kyungsoo's seen enough murders that it doesn't faze him. jongin's sure to have seen his own share of it as well, he wouldn't have made detective so young if he hadn't, but his face turns green when they step into the bedroom.

the wife is laid out across the bed, carefully positioned. she looks like she's sleeping, with a hand tucked under her chin and her legs drawn up to her chest. if only she wasn't surrounded by blood. when they get closer, they see that her chest has nearly been clawed out by a knife. kyungsoo sighs. jongin chokes.





"why did you want to be a cop?" jongin asks him one day. its a slow day. it's hot, so hot. kyungsoo's convinced that even the criminals are too hot to make trouble. he likes days like this, because he can feel almost human.

"i wanted to protect the world," kyungsoo answers. he curls his hands around his mug of tea. it's too hot for tea but it's soothing, the smell of peppermint masking the smell of sweat and jongin's too-heavy cologne.

"you don't want that anymore?" jongin's voice is quietly earnest. he sounds so innocent. kyungsoo pictures his mouth, red and sweet, against his skin. he sighs the image away.

"i don't think i can anymore."





kyungsoo doesn't mean to kiss him. they're drunk, getting wasted at a bar after a bust goes terribly wrong and they lose three people in the firefight. they stumble to the car together, all hands and awkward feet, the world spinning around their heads. kyungsoo wants to taste how sweet and innocent jongin is, because he's sure he can taste it if he kisses him hard enough.

jongin tastes like alcohol and coffee and sweat. kyungsoo can't get enough of him. he shoves his hands down the tight denim of jongin's jeans and jongin makes a sound that makes the world spin a little faster.

"fuck me," kyungsoo whispers harshly against his mouth. "please fuck me."

the smile jongin gives him is out of place on his face, but kyungsoo doesn't see it.

they don't make it to either of their homes, only as far as the back seat. jongin fucks kyungsoo into the leather, his teeth caught painfully in kyungsoo's shoulder. its raw and dry and kyungsoo loves every second of it, the way jongin fills him up like he might tear in half and the way jongin curls his hand around his cock and the way jongin grunts his name. it's not innocent at all. not at all.





the next morning, jongin gives him shy smiles. it feels more like jongin, as if the jongin from last night was a dream. kyungsoo gives him a small smile back. he could get used to jongin.





some nights, kyungsoo can't fall asleep. he stares up at his cracked ceiling and feels like the bumpy texture of the walls are going to make him sick. he thinks of murders, then. all the ones he's seen, each victim's face emblazoned in his memory.

choi yeojiin, female, six, her father had liked to choke her when she got too loud. dong baekmin, male, forty eight, a robbery. shin heeyeon, male, twenty four, a jealous rival for a girl's affection. kim debra, female, eighteen, raped and beaten outside her school.

they hadn't solved them all, that's impossible. they linger, like ghosts, for the times when kyungsoo isn't too focused on another case to keep his mind occupied. their curl their fingers around his limbs and try to drag him under. why us, they ask in silence. why us, why us, why us.

why not you.





kyungsoo and jongin fall into a routine of fucking each other when things get too hard to handle. it's never gentle or slow. jongin likes to bite kyungsoo's skin and leave bruises. he likes it when kyungsoo scratches lines into his skin. when he leaves, because it's always at kyungsoo's apartment, kyungsoo feels cheated. where was the innocence? that's what he had been craving. he wanted jongin's shy quiet smile, not his calloused fingers and brutal pace.





he isn't sure why he feels the need to figure jongin out, but he does. on slow days when there's nothing to investigate, or they're waiting orders, he quietly searches out jongin's life. he reads his official records, knows that he was one of the youngest to graduate the academy, that his win/lose ration is nearly perfect, that he's a piss poor negotiator but an amazing shot. he has parents, sisters. a comfortable extended family. he hadn't made good grades in school but the teachers had all praised how hard he worked.

jongin grunts softly as he shifts in his search, flipping through records of their latest suspects. kyungsoo watches him for a moment before he goes back to his findings.

no significant others.

the records have nothing else to give; kyungsoo closes the window and closes his laptop. he looks away from jongin.





the winter air hurts kyungsoo's nose. he burrows his face deeper into his thick black scarf, shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. jongin's lean figure is just barely visible ahead of him. kyungsoo has a knack for following people. he knows the perfect balance of walking far behind but not too far, of fitting in with the crowd around him. he's followed jongin all the way downtown, and he's thankful he'd switched his thick peacoat for an overlarge hoodie -- he fits right in. there's a couple of girls, school girls linked arm in arm, that've chattered away and kept on the same course that jongin has been following; kyungsoo uses them for cover, but not too close to make them nervous. his gaze is kept mostly on the ground.

jongin turns a corner. kyungsoo's brows come together. something tingles at the base of his spine but when the girls keep going past the turn, he turns it.

when he's pushed hard up against the brick wall, he's not quite surprised. he should've excepted it.

"how long?" jongin's eyes are dark, shrewd. no innocence there.

"just today," kyungsoo answers easily. his hands are still in his pocket. he doesn't reach for his gun.

jongin's gaze roves over him, then he shakes his head. "don't do this. just go home and pretend this didn't happen." he's all full of confidence, until he takes a second to gaze down the alley, toward a thick steel door. he looks back to kyungsoo. "please. just... go."

kyungsoo nods, once, slow. there's approval on jongin's face before he steps back, turns on his heel, and makes his way down the alley. kyungsoo doesn't watch him, he turns and walks back to his car.

when kyungsoo arrives at the office the next day, jongin is already there. he looks immaculate, in his dark jeans and long-sleeved sweater, except for the bruising around his right eye and a split lip. kyungsoo sits down in the chair in front of jongin's desk, his thick coat dragging him down. he slowly unravels himself out of his scarf but he doesn't take his eyes away from jongin's face. it takes a moment, but he finally looks up at him.

"don't ask, because i won't tell you."

"is it worth it?"

"it's not about worth."

jongin follows him silently to his car when they go home for the night. kyungsoo drives them to his house. he offers dinner, jongin declines. they shower together, for the first time. jongin's hands are oh so soft as they start from kyungsoo's shoulders, down the solid line of his chest and waist, against the small curve of his hips. and then he does it again. and again, the water slicking his hair down against his forehead. kyungsoo doesn't hesitate to kiss him.

they make their way, dripping, down the hall and into kyungsoo's bed. the sheets are going to smell horrible in the morning.

jongin fucks him the way kyungsoo had imagined it would be like to fuck him. slow, soft, as if kyungsoo is something precious. he isn't. it's jongin, with those deceiving smiles, that needs to be sheltered under his body.

when he wakes up, he's alone. there's a note by his hand.

turn in your resignation today. move out of the country -- go to london, i hear it's nice. there's a joint bank account for you under the names "sarah and david kim." you're her husband.

you shouldn't have followed me.






a month later, kyungsoo sits in a subway in london and forces his roast beef to go down. a television plays in the corner. it talks about south korea, about corrupted policemen, about detectives found working for gangs. it talks about murders in retaliation. he sips his soda.





kyungsoo gets a job at a day care. he watches children all day long. baekhyun owns the place, he speaks korean with a british accent. he doesn't ask much questions, just accepts him as if kyungsoo has always been there. he feels as if he's come full circle, gone from staring at bodies with no more life ahead of him to chasing after bodies with all their lives ahead of them.

he comes home to a lonely apartment, but at night he sleeps a little easier. the walls aren't textured.

some days, baekhyun manages to make him go out with him. kyungsoo follows after him and his chinese boyfriend, who looks like a model but works in banking. they introduce him to their friends, one after another. kyungsoo memorizes their names and faces and can't talk himself out of carefully looking every single one of them up. he's not a detective anymore but old habits die hard.

it's not a very exciting life. kyungsoo likes it.





one day he comes home and someone is in his apartment.

kyungsoo keeps his gun in the table set beside the door and the weight is familiar in his hands. he clicks the safety off. one hand supports the other as he makes his way down the hall. the door to his bedroom is open, but not as wide as he'd left it. kyungsoo takes a deep silent breath, slips into the door frame.

"don't move. i have a gun with a round in the chamber and i know how to use it. put your hands in the air and slowly turn around." the dark figure at the window follows his directions.

"i thought you were dead," kyungsoo says.

jongin gives him a small shake of his head. "i was smarter than most. i left after i made sure you'd left. i can't go back to korea, i'm a wanted man."

kyungsoo doesn't lower his gun. jongin doesn't lower his hands. "why did you warn me?"

jongin frowns, just a little, and he looks like the little boy kyungsoo has always thought of him as. "i don't know. i barely know you, even with all the times we were together. but i need you alive."

just there, in the light of jongin's eyes, is a touch of the innocence kyungsoo has always looked for. he doesn't need it now, but he wants it.

kyungsoo lowers his gun.
Tags: c: jongin, c: kyungsoo, etc: table, g: drama, g: quiet, p: jongin/kyungsoo, r: r
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