danie (himawarixxsandz) wrote,

The 12th Floor of Apartment E: Dim Sum (EXO AU - Drabble)

Title: Dim Sum
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): XiuHan
Summary: Luhan's favorite food
A/N: Don't ask me what this is supposed to be because I have no clue I just really wanted to write Xiuhan and title it dim sum because steamed buns ha ha get it okay omfg ignore me. (because baozi is what luhan calls xiumin when he wants sex or when things are really serious)

“Holy fuck,” Wufan believes, is the appropriate and necessary reaction to what he has to face first thing in the morning after he’s dragged himself out of bed, into the shower, out of the shower, by the table for coffee and fried rice, and out to the elevator to make his way downstairs so he can go to work. It’s the appropriate and necessary reaction so that’s what he says when the elevator doors open, at seven in the morning, and Minseok is trapped between Luhan’s body and the elevator wall.

                There’s a belt on the floor, and Wufan assumes that it’s Minseok’s because Luhan’s is open and barely keeping from sliding out of the loops of the translator’s pants.

                “It,” Wufan says, putting an arm against the elevator door to make sure it doesn’t close, “is seven in the morning. What—”

                “I got up early and prepped for that Taiwanese executive that’s coming in for the interview,” Luhan says as he turns around (Minseok’s eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed and Wufan is pretty sure the teacher doesn’t exactly know what just happened—he probably can’t see Wufan either right now). “Just because you asked me to.”

                Wufan thinks it has less to do with him asking Luhan and more to do with the fact that the last time they had a Taiwanese executive at the office for an interview, Luhan was fifteen minutes late and came rushing in with no belt and an untucked shirt and unzipped pants and Wufan had had to work as a makeshift translator for Chanyeol (which had resulted in fifteen minutes of the Taiwanese executive becoming very offended and Chanyeol becoming increasingly loud—the journalist is one of those people who doesn’t understand that if a person does not understand Korean, taking up the decibel level twenty notches will not make them suddenly understand Korean).

                “Good,” Wufan says, “because I’m never covering for you again.”

                Luhan shrugs, pulling Minseok back against the translator’s body. Minseok mouths a discreet “sorry” in Wufan’s direction, the teacher bowing his head apologetically right before Luhan swings his body in front of Minseok’s so Wufan can no longer make eye contact with the teacher. “Can you take the next one?” Luhan asks, glancing at Wufan. “Please?”

                Wufan sighs and pulls his arm away. “The things I do for you,” he says.

                “Yeah,” Luhan turns enough just to grin at Wufan. “You’re an angel,” he says then in Mandarin, right before the doors close.

                (Unfortunately, the doors don’t close fast enough and Wufan catches a glimpse of Luhan slipping his hand past Minseok’s waistband)

                Most of the time, Sehun knows he’s drunken a little too much, but there’s hardly ever a time where he thinks he hasn’t drunken enough.

                Those rare times are usually when he and Jongin come home late from a post-lecture splurge and have to reap the consequences of coming across Luhan plastered over Minseok at the grouping of chairs right across the twelfth floor elevators. They both somehow fit into one chair except not really because Sehun can’t even see Minseok’s face, and he can’t make out whose limbs are whose.

                “I told you we should’ve gone earlier,” Jongin mutters, grabbing Sehun’s arm as they try to walk as quickly as possible (trying as best they can to ignore the mixed moans of Mandarin and Korean). “I told you.”

                Sehun wrenches his arm away incredulously. “You’re the one who wanted to drink for another hour—what the fuck,” he says, irritated because injustice. He’s not going to stand for being blamed when Jongin complains to Joonmyeon to post another complaint on the complaints’ page just because Jongin was too into the party to remember the risks that came with coming to the apartment past ten.

                “Why can’t they just do it in a room?” Jongin mutters, because sounds carry and they can still hear the voices from all the way down the hall.

                “If you were dating someone like Luhan-shii,” Sehun tries to reason, “wouldn’t—”

                “Okay,” Jongin says, “Luhan-shii is the one always starting it. Like—have you ever been in the elevator with them? Minseok-shii was just standing there and then Luhan-shii just starts eating his face, and then says some weird, random ass Mandarin word that I think is—like—his sex name for Minseok-shii or something. Bao—something. Something like that.”

                Sehun gets the key out once they reach the door, and glances at Jongin. “Yeah,” he says, “I know. It’s like their sex key word or something. Luhan-shii always says it right before they get it on and that’s when you have to get out and take the stairs. I mean—at least it’s only the twelfth floor.”

                The door opens before Sehun can turn the key (Joonmyeon probably heard the noise), and Jongin flings himself onto Joonmyeon. “Luhan-shii and Minseok-shii were fucking again,” he (drunkenly) sobs into Joonmyeon’s shoulder.

                Joonmyeon sighs.

                Kyungsoo feels like crying.

                He wants to regress back into a fetus and never emerge into this cruel, cruel place called earth. He also no longer wants to be on the shift where the emergency stairs need to go through their daily check because he doesn’t ever again want to have to see Luhan’s face buried in Minseok’s lap nor does Kyungsoo ever again want to see Luhan taking his face out of Minseok’s lap, pressing a hand over Minseok’s mouth because shh, baozi.  

                Five times has already been plenty.

                Kyungsoo doesn’t want to aim for a sixth.

                “And,” Kyungsoo adds lamely, the building’s master keys hanging limply from his hand, “I’m sure this is—like—illegal. It’s—defacing property—something.”

                Minseok, at the very least, looks sympathetic and apologetic—as best as someone who’s still trying to breathe properly can. He stands a few meters from Luhan, holding the translator’s belt for him while Luhan finishes fastening his jeans. Luhan takes his time, grinning good-naturedly at Kyungsoo, as Minseok hands over the belt and Luhan yanks the teacher in for a brief kiss (and a stroke of Minseok’s cheek) before looping in the belt.

                “What if I cried?” Kyungsoo asks.

                “Don’t cry,” Minseok blinks sympathetically and apologetically.

                “Cry,” Luhan says brightly. “You have big eyes. You’ll look pretty if you cry.”

                Kyungsoo stares, mouth falling open slightly—he looks at Minseok incredulously and the teacher looks sympathetic and apologetic once again, shrugging and mouthing a considerably sincere I’m sorry.

                “Please don’t have sex on the stairs again,” Kyungsoo decides to go with because he doesn’t know what else to say. He tries to look as distraught and traumatized as possible in the hopes that Luhan will take pity on him.

                Luhan already has his fingers intertwined with Minseok’s, dragging the teacher past Kyungsoo (Luhan pats Kyungsoo’s face cheerily with the translator’s free hand). “We’ll try,” Luhan says lightly, walking out the door.

                Minseok turns one last time and mouths another sorry.

                (Personally, Kyungsoo doesn’t think Minseok looked very sorry at that point—especially considering the fact that Luhan was dragging him in the direction of the elevators)

                Yixing opens the door.

                He closes the door.

                He looks at Jongdae.

                “Please don’t tell me,” Jongdae says, “that—”


                “I told you not to invite them over,” Wufan says, “Yixing told you not to invite them over. But you had to be all polite and Korean about it.”

                Jongdae sighs, and wonders if he has enough money to buy himself a new bed.

                Minseok doesn’t mind.

                He doesn’t particularly understand why Luhan seems to want Minseok every moment of the day, regardless of where they are—doesn’t particularly either understand why Luhan also seems to take great pleasure in getting caught. Minseok thinks it’s funny, so he understands if Luhan thinks it’s funny too, and while Luhan does think it’s funny, that’s apparently not the reason that he likes it for.

                “I like being caught with you,” Luhan says one night after Joonmyeon catches them in the hallway corner. He smiles sleepily and reaches across the small space between them as they both lie in bed, knuckles poking gently at Minseok’s cheek (Luhan’s special habit that goes hand-in-hand with his nickname for Minseok, even though Minseok hates his cheeks).

                Minseok still doesn’t really understand what that’s supposed to mean—what Luhan is trying to say—but he doesn’t mind. It makes Luhan happy, and Minseok really does think it’s funny (to make a game out of how far can they increase the diameter of Kyungsoo’s eyes) and it’s not like sex with Luhan can ever produce negative results.

                Luhan has his reasons.

                Sharing them, though, is another story.

                (Maybe he just likes steaming buns in the open—like—so the steam can escape properly)

Tags: apartmentau, chen, d.o., kai, kris, lay, luhan, sehun, suho, xiuhan, xiumin
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