rabenhorst | [fic] Onew/Key – SHINee

Title: Then, Again
Author:

fonulyn
Rating: R
Pairing: Onew/Key
Other characters: --
Warnings: --
Wordcount: 3342 words
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: Breaking his leg – twice – turns out to be the best thing that has ever happened to Jinki.
Comments: haha this is like a set up for bad porn, and in the end I don’t even give you actual porn. I’m sorry? (I hope you like it anyway!)

When Jinki wakes up he doesn’t know where he is. He feels sore all over, in a way that is definitely nothing even remotely pleasant, and so he tries to hold as still as he can. Too bad even blinking makes his eyes hurt, as well as increases the pounding in the back of his skull. He really doesn’t appreciate the bright lights shining down on him. Shouldn’t it be basic human decency to switch off the lights when someone sleeps?

Finally he manages to blink his eyes open enough to focus on his surroundings. White. More white. And in the midst of it all, someone is suddenly looking down on him worriedly. The slanted eyes are clear and attentive, and Jinki really really wants to reach out and touch those lips. Maybe with his own. Moving still doesn’t sound tempting at all though, so he doesn’t shift, only opens his mouth to speak.

“Hey.” The croak that is his voice surprises him as it definitely doesn’t sound like he usually does. Or healthy at all, come to think of it. Yet he presses on, after swallowing hard to remedy what he can. This beautiful creature is still looking down at him, obviously focused, and Jinki wants to grab the opportunity while he can.

“Are you an angel?”

Jinki is sort of proud of himself for managing a coherent sentence. Although it’s somewhat dimmed by the way the angel’s face morphs into a pinched expression, quite like he’s not sure whether to be annoyed or amused. Jinki would apologize, he really would, but his fuzzy mind won’t co-operate enough to let him get words out any more.

“What kind of a stupid question is that?” So. Not an angel, then. Jinki squints up at him, trying to figure out if the light he sees is an actual halo. It might be the angel is just lying to him, right? Maybe they don’t want to be discovered. Or maybe they don’t know they’re angels? Makes perfect sense.

“Okay,” Jinki says, nevertheless, figuring that it’s easiest to agree. He wouldn’t want to deal with an angry angel, now would he. He sinks a little deeper into the covers, his eyes slipping shut as he snuffles contently. “I am going to sleep now.”

Jinki doesn’t see the angel’s expression anymore, but he can imagine it pretty well judging by the snort his announcement gains as an answer.

He hears nothing more before he drifts back into sleep.

The next time Jinki is awake he is at least slightly more lucid. He’s also a little bit embarrassed by the way he’d been acting the previous time, but he tries not to dwell on it. It’s enough that the nurse he mistook for an angel isn’t mentioning it, pretending like it never happened. Jinki can roll with that, he really can.

The man shuffles closer to the bed and fluffs Jinki’s pillow a little, before helping him to a more seated position. “Food is on its way,” comes the explanation. That’s as much of happy chitchat as he gets.

Carefully, Jinki looks at the shiny nametag pinned on the white scrubs right atop the man’s heart. It reads Kim Kibum. There must be thousands of Kim Kibums in this city alone, he thinks, but doesn’t comment on it, wary of the off chance that the man actually is an angel. Even if it seems to be less and less likely the more his dosage of painkillers is lowered.

“Kibum?” Jinki tries as the nurse is shifting the table closer. He’s not sure if addressing him with such familiarity is a bad thing but his excuse is that he’s on heavy medication and everything seems like a good idea right now. Especially getting to know the attractive person fussing over him. “Why am I here?”

Kibum huffs, obviously not minding the familiarity in the slightest. He almost rolls his eyes at Jinki, it seems, and only manages to keep professional in the nick of time. Jinki thinks it’s utterly charming. “You broke your leg in two places and hit your head so hard it’s surprising you only have a concussion,” Kibum explains, short and to the point. “You should consider yourself lucky.”

“I guess it’s a good thing my skull is so thick.” Jinki flashes his most winning goofy grin. If he’s not mistaken there’s a slight smile tugging on Kibum’s lips as well. Jinki definitely counts it as a win. Especially when Kibum pats his leg sort of fondly.

“If there’s an emergency, just press the call button,” he instructs. “But I am not helping you eat.”

“Not even if I ask nicely?” Jinki tries.

“No,” Kibum answers, “never in a million years.”

Later, Jinki presses the call button anyway. Kibum still refuses to feed him. But he stays, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Jinki’s bed, and keeps him company until he has to get up to collect the empty plates from all of the rooms.

Jinki thinks it could have gone a lot worse.

It takes three days of eating that horrid mess they call food before Jinki has had enough. He forces down a few spoonfuls of the porridge-like breakfast he’s served, trying to drown the taste in lots and lots of juice. It doesn’t really work, though, since as much as he’s not usually fussy about food he can’t get over the slimy texture.

He complains about it to Kibum, who tells him to get over it and act like a man. Which is decidedly not the outcome Jinki had in mind when he gave his elaborate representation on the merits of actual edible food versus the goo they offer at the hospital.

Jinki is sort of disappointed. Even though he tries not to show it. Yet he definitely spends the day moping in his room, picking on every meal of the day just enough that he’s able to fool himself he’s eaten. He’s still hungry, though, his stomach grumbling and protesting every chance it gets.

Defeated, Jinki burrows himself into his blankets and hopes that the old quote about sleep substituting food is actually true. It’s not like he can sleep, not with how hungry he is, and the more he thinks of it and focuses on it the worse it gets.

He’s so screwed.

Surprisingly though his wallowing in self-pity is cut short when the door opens and none other than Kibum waltzes in. There’s a plastic bag in his hand, and he sets it down on the edge of Jinki’s bed more gently than expected. Jinki sits up then, careful to keep the blanket still around himself. “What’s that?” he asks, curious.

Kibum rolls his eyes. Is it possible for eyerolls to be fond? Jinki decides it is.

“Food, you big whiny crybaby.”

“Oh.” Jinki beams. He feels like a kid on Christmas morning as he rummages through the bag of various snacks and fruit. He figures it’s too much to ask of Kibum to stay, but he doesn’t even need to. Before long they’re sharing the contents of the bag, the TV on in the background for them to comment on whatever mundane show is on at any given time.

It’s actually really nice. Even if the way Kibum spends ages eating the bananas is sort of very distracting.

It sort of becomes a habit. Jinki gives himself a mental pat on the back. He is awesome.

Turns out that the painkillers don’t only make Jinki’s mind a little fuzzy and his impulse control worse. They also make him horny. Every time he closes his eyes his mind drifts to the slight upturn of Kibum’s lips when he’s amused and trying to hide it, or the way he always has a little swing to his hips when he walks, or the way he seems to linger in Jinki’s room to exchange a few words with him even when he really should be already going.

It’s sort of sad, how fast Jinki has fallen, and how easily. Yet he’s enjoying their awkward flirting much more than he can even express. It’d make anyone cringe with how awful it is, truthfully, but it works for them.

Nevertheless Jinki is surprised when he opens his eyes to find Kibum kneeling on the hospital bed at his feet, grinning up at him. He’s wearing the same white nurse’s outfit he usually has, except it seems to be three sizes too small judging by the way it’s clinging on Kibum’s body like a second skin. Come to think of it, the regular outfit doesn’t include a short skirt, either, one that exposes more of Kibum’s hypnotizing thighs than it covers.

Maybe that is when Jinki realizes, on some level, that he is dreaming. He still clings on to the faint hope that this is actually happening, but when he realizes his clothes have magically disappeared, along with the covers he’d been lying under, there’s really no hope for that anymore.

Even in a dream, Kibum is amazing. Every single movement of his is full of seduction, and Jinki is completely and utterly helpless. He tries not to moan when Kibum runs his pale lips over the hard shaft of his erection, mouths at the sensitive head, and proceeds to do miracles with his tongue. There’s no way to hold back at that point, not for Jinki at least, and he thrusts up shallowly to gain even more of the sweet friction.

When Kibum deepthroats him, the dream ends.

Jinki wakes up with the worst case of morning wood ever. It’s still dark, the lights even outside the rooms dimmed, and no one seems to be moving in the corridor that is bustling with life during daytime. Somehow that makes Jinki even more hyperaware of his body, of the way even the covers create too much pressure on his dick, and how his breathing is way too loud for the small room.

He tries to will it away. He takes deep, calming breaths, and tries to think of anything and everything that could possibly be a turn-off enough to make him forget all about that dream. He’s not allowed to get out of bed so sneaking into the bathroom is out of the question, and that makes him curse his bad luck more than anything up until now.

It’s no use. Nothing works.

Eventually Jinki can’t control himself anymore, and pushes his hand down his pants. The elastic of the waistband gives way easily and for once he’s grateful for the hospital clothes and their easy access. He wriggles until he can push the pants down to mid-thigh, enough that they’re out of the way.

His movements are unfocused at first, but before long he lets his mind take him back to the dream he had. He brushes the pad of his thumb up the underside of his cock, following the trail that Kibum had created with his tongue. Slowly, he teases himself, mirroring everything he can remember happened.

When he finally curls his fingers around his dick and gives in to the short, almost rough pace, it’s like something clicks in place in his mind. He jerks off quickly, unfocusedly, and when he comes he bites back the telltale moan of Kibum’s name.

Even after that, Jinki sleeps restlessly, fitfully. On the plus side, at least he manages to gain some rest, he tells himself. It’s better than nothing.

The nurse who changes the sheets in the morning doesn’t say anything. Nevertheless, Jinki can’t help but feel vaguely embarrassed.

After that whole ordeal, Jinki assumes he’d be too embarrassed to even look Kibum in the eye. Yet, surprisingly, nothing like that happens. There’s no awkwardness, no nothing, as the second Kibum walks into the room everything seems to slot back into its regular place. It’s a huge relief, and definitely more than Jinki had even dared to hope for. The familiar way they address each other has stuck straight from the beginning, and it almost feels like spending time with a friend instead of a casual acquaintance.

The downside is that Kibum can only stay for a moment at a time. And whenever he’s gone, Jinki is bored out of his mind. He complains about it to Kibum every chance he gets, but the only reaction it gains him is an amused snort and a short headshake. “I work here. They don’t pay me to just sit by your bedside and listen to your nonsense.” Kibum reaches out and flicks Jinki’s forehead, before carefully setting the tray of food on the small table.

Jinki grins, happily. “I can always press the call button every two seconds.”

“If you do,” Kibum answers levelly. “I will sabotage the button. Then what’ll you do.”

“I’d think of a way. I swear I would.” Jinki is convinced of his own words, he knows he’s stubborn and that he can figure out how to proceed even when the most obvious route has been blocked. He pretends to focus on his food, although he’s definitely keeping an eye on Kibum’s reaction.

For a long moment, Kibum eyes him, considering. Finally he laughs. “You would, wouldn’t you.”

It’s not a question, so Jinki doesn’t answer. He has a distinct feeling he’s won something important.

The next day, Kibum walks into Jinki’s room and all but slams a bag full of books on his bedside. “Read,” is the only thing he says, before he’s already gone again.

Jinki does.

After the exchange Kibum does spend more time in Jinki’s room, and Jinki definitely counts it a success. It’s not much, but it’s obvious effort and it makes Jinki’s heart turn into a very embarrassing puddle of feelings. It’s also not very good for his self control. He hasn’t jerked off this much ever since he was a desperate teenager.

He still blames the painkillers. Even though he has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not how they really work.

Whatever it is, Jinki is man enough to admit that he is completely and utterly whipped. It’s not only the fact that Kibum is incredibly pretty and has the most inviting lips Jinki remembers seeing. It’s also the way he laughs, the way he mocks Jinki ruthlessly like they’ve known each other forever, it’s the way he moves, the way he spends that extra fifteen minutes in Jinki’s room when his shift is already technically over.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Not to Kibum, not to anyone that calls him at the hospital, worried. All of his family and friends live on almost the opposite end of the country, and none of them bothered to visit him once he said he’s fine, settling for the occasional text message or a phone call.

Jinki doesn’t mind. It feels that this is a special world for him and Kibum, anyway. He sort of wants to keep it that way.

Eventually, like things usually do, this also has to come to an end. Jinki is told that his leg is good enough for him to go on recovering at home, and that there’s no need for him to stay here any longer. Kibum is the one who brings him the discharge papers, after a tall doctor has signed them for him and explained Jinki how to take care of his healing limb.

“I swear to you,” Kibum huffs as he pushes the papers at Jinki’s chest. “If you neglect the instructions and screw up your leg for good I will personally make sure you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable life.”

There’s a grin dancing on his lips as he says it, though. And maybe it’s partly Jinki’s wishful thinking, but there’s also a hint of melancholy in his eyes, as if he’s not ready to let go of this either. Jinki knows he surely isn’t. He’d rather stay here for a couple of months, please, hospital bill be damned.

“Is that a promise?” he asks, instead of anything better, and tries to smile winningly.

Kibum laughs. “I thought you knew the distinct difference between a promise and a threat by now.” He turns more serious, then, his smile soft as he looks straight into Jinki’s eyes. “I guess this is it, then. Take care of yourself, okay.”

It’s the golden opportunity. Jinki tries to will himself to say any of the possible lines he figured out while he spent a sleepless night in his bed.

Would you go out to dinner with me? Soon?

Hey, Kibum, I’d really want to see you again, this time outside the hospital.

Date me, please? I promise not to break any more bones.

None of it comes out, though. Instead Jinki grins, even if it lacks the usual enthusiasm, and waves aside. “Okay. I will.” It’s the lamest of all lame replies he could’ve ever chosen and inwardly he groans at himself and his incompetency. Briefly he wonders if he still has a chance to remedy the situation, but Kibum pats his shoulder, his lips doing an odd little twitch.

“I’ll go get your clothes.”

It’s less than a month later when Jinki falls down the exact same set of stairs he did the first time. It’s quite impressive. Thankfully he doesn’t manage to hit his head quite as badly now, so he’s still conscious when he’s wheeled into the hospital. Nevertheless it feels sort of like a déjà vu, with the way his leg is hurting and the painkillers make everything dull around the edges.

He’s still a little disoriented when the door to his room bangs open and a furious Kibum storms in. Jinki can’t even get in a greeting before Kibum leans close over him, flexing his fingers as if he’s holding back the urge to either shake Jinki or to strangle him. Or possibly both. “Are you doing this on purpose!?” Kibum hisses out.

It’s probably supposed to be intimidating. It’s not. It’s laced so full of worry that it makes Jinki grin even before his brain properly catches up. “No,” he says, slowly. “But I did want to see you again.”

Maybe it’s the painkillers, or maybe it’s the way he hit his head again. Maybe it’s a sudden burst of random courage, Jinki doesn’t know. What he does know is that he goes on, uninterrupted and with deliberate, measured words. “Would you go out with me?” He looks up at Kibum, at the conflicting emotions that flicker across his expression for the briefest of moments.

Finally, Kibum snorts. “No.”

No? Despite his best efforts, Jinki’s heart sinks. He’s not stupid, he had known all along that rejection was a possibility, a very real one. Maybe he’s not Kibum’s type at all, maybe that tall doctor is, or the pretty girl stationed at the reception most days. Jinki clears his throat, but that’s as far as he gets before Kibum cuts him short.

“You’re not allowed out yet, stupid.” Kibum looks at Jinki, and the smile that spreads on his lips is unhurried, barely there, and yet unmistakeably genuine. “I could wheel you into the cafeteria downstairs though. I have a break in half an hour.”

Jinki beams. “Deal.”

True to his words, Kibum arrives back half an hour later with a wheelchair. He helps Jinki out of bed and into the chair, careful and practiced, and pushes him into the elevator that takes them to the first floor. People don’t even look at them twice when they pass them, too used to the nurses always wheeling people around wherever they need to be.

They’re not alone in the elevator so not a word is said, but as soon as the doors open Kibum leans down until his lips are nearly touching Jinki’s ear. “Take my advice,” he whispers when they go through the doors. His breath is warm against Jinki’s skin and Jinki shivers involuntarily. “The coffee here is horrible. Anything else is okay.”

Maybe it’s not quite like first dates usually go, but Jinki thinks it’s pretty good regardless.

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this is actually basically a dream I had, haha, only slightly modified. I hope you enjoyed :3

[fic] Onew/Key – SHINee – Then, Again