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1001 Tales: Suho/Lay Fic Fest Round 3
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Published:
2020-09-07
Completed:
2020-09-07
Words:
37,392
Chapters:
5/5
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Kudos:
102
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a cunning hare is hard to find

Chapter 5: Call My Name

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Sword dances are a crucial part of this Kingdom’s history,” Yixing says, looking up from the letter he’s reading. He might as well do some work while Junmyeon is practising. He had been staying on the Kim Clan territory for too long now. Today marked the day of Junmyeon’s inauguration ceremony, so he was due to leave soon. “As you would know.”

There’s a sharp clang, and Yixing watches in amusement as Junmyeon’s sword spins in the air before clattering onto the ground.

Junmyeon cries out again, undoubtedly frustrated when his sword is sent flying again by Jongdae. The humid weather doesn’t help. Jongdae wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, and gives Yixing another look. This one Yixing can roughly translate into a series of curses in his native tongue.

“I don’t see you practising your sword dancing,” Junmyeon squints his eyes accusatorily and it’s a wonder Yixing let’s him get away with it.

“I don’t need practise,” Yixing folds the letter into a perfect half, setting it down in his read letter pile. “My form is already perfect.”

“It’s just different to what I expected,” Junmyeon says heavily, “I’m not one for these dances anyways.”

“It’s not like you have a choice in the matter. Excelling in them is an unsaid quality of a clan leader.”

“How ridiculous,” Junmyeon frowns. “Besides, I haven’t even seen a sword dance done without the music accompanying the dancers. Maybe that’s why I’m struggling.”

“You have a rehearsal with the music accompaniment later today. For now, you can’t handle the extra distraction,” Yixing shrugs, “You can’t even get the simplest form of the dance down.”

“I’m trying,” Junmyeon stresses, dabbing at his forehead with the edge of his sleeve. “My strength is not physical. I already know I can’t do this.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I’m saying,” Junmyeon stresses.

“If you tried hard enough at it, maybe you would be able to do it.” And if it were anyone else, Yixing would already be feeling the annoyance ebbing on him.

“I am trying,”

“Not hard enough.” He counters easily. Standing up he makes his way towards where Junmyeon is standing. Like a defiant child, Junmyeon’s hands are crossed over his chest.

They’re almost face to face now, so close that Yixing could count Junmyeon’s eyelashes. Admire the rosy hue in his cheeks, lips. Junmyeon is attractive, in a way that makes Yixing want to push and break him. Attractive in a way that makes his heart restrict and want to look away at the same time. Confusing. Maybe Junmyeon was just confusing.

“Not hard enough?” Junmyeon blinks, as though he’s innocent. “I don’t see you monitoring my every move.” He has a lot of nerve to speak to Yixing like this, batting his eyes in front of Jongdae, and maybe Yixing has a lot of nerve to just stand and let him. It’s been like this for ages, if Yixing were to admit it. He’d let Junmyeon get away with anything if it meant they could stay together just the slightest bit longer.

“Not hard enough,” Yixing confirms, breath ghosting over Junmyeon’s lips.

It’s the playfulness that fuels Junmyeon to outstretch his arms, ready to shove Yixing. Push him back a step or two. Yixing’s fingers wrap around his wrists before his fingertips can even reach his chest. In whatever ways he wants to push Junmyeon, Junmyeon wants to do the same to him.

“Try that again and I’ll break your wrists.” Yixing smiles sweet, even if his words are anything but. It would be all too easy for him to do., but he wouldn’t dare to even touch Junmyeon in that way.

“Do it!” Junmyeon exclaims, daring him. Too tempting, especially when Yixing’s fingers are wrapped around his wrists so easily. A part of Yixing wonders if he can cage both of Junmyeon’s wrists in one hand. “Then I won’t have to do this infuriating dance,”

Yixing drops Junmyeon’s wrists, keeping his face blank. “Again.” He orders calmly.

“No,” Junmyeon refutes, pouting. He grabs the sword that’s on the ground and sticks the point into the ground.

“That’s not an option, Junmyeon.” Yixing grabs the hilt of the sword, and easily pulls it out. “Give him your sword Jongdae.”

He points the edge of the blade against Junmyeon’s neck. Junmyeon doesn’t flinch, just stares back at Yixing defiantly. Too stubborn for his own good. He would be performing this, today, and he was acting as if he has all the time in the world. Yixing keeps the sword pointed at Junmyeon’s pretty neck for just a few seconds longer,(Yixing had never thought a neck was pretty before) before aiming it towards the ground.

Jongdae complies easily, and Junmyeon takes it from him. “What are you planning?” Junmyeon asks with narrowed eyes. He’s grown used to Yixing’s games. Yixing watches as Jongdae moves towards the short wall surrounding them, leaning against it. He crosses his arm, and his expression screams amused.

“Sometimes the problem isn’t necessarily how you wield the sword,” Yixing tilts his head up, and Junmyeon takes a few steps back. “But the wielder itself.”

“So me,” Junmyeon responds, looking unimpressed.

“Exactly,” Yixing points the tip of his sword towards Junmyeon.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Junmyeon exclaims, a little laugh coming out.

“Junmyeon,” Yixing says levelly, “Try again.”

“With you?” Junmyeon questions incredulously.

“This is a high honour, don’t sound so disgusted.” Yixing looks at Junmyeon. “Your attitude can very well be the difference between life and death.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, “We’ve grown past that.”

“Have we?”Yixing holds his sword out towards Junmyeon. The tips of the swords just barely touch. “And wrong, by the way.”

“We just started!” Junmyeon huffs.

Yixing sighs, and now it’s him driving the sword into the ground. “Hold your stance,” He moves towards Junmyeon, until he’s right behind him. Jongdae goes and picks up Yixing’s sword, wordlessly placing it beside him before he disappears into the shadows again.

“What are you—”

“Do you want to succeed or not?” Yixing murmurs. He keeps one hand on Junmyeon’s waist and the other holds his wrist from underneath. The heat from Junmyeon’s skin bleeds into him. He tightens his fingers around his wrist. So fragile, so breakable. His mouth is right beside Junmyeon’s ears, and he doesn’t need to look at him to know the shorter is flushed. This is the closest they’ve been in public. “First, hold your sword tighter.”

Junmyeon does as instructed immediately for once, so Yixing should probably try this tactic. Fingers tightening so hard Yixing can see his knuckles whiten. Yixing knows it’s not out of fear anymore, just to ground him from whatever thoughts are causing his ears to turn pink.

“You need to bend your hand upwards here,” Yixing uses his hand to direct it. “You keep making this mistake. Now, hold it straight in front of you,” He lets go of his wrist.

Junmyeon obliges, holding the sword right under his eyes, his wrists making a cross on the hilt. Yixing’s fingers gently probe his elbows the slightest bit upwards. Now his arms are on either side of Junmyeon, his front nearly pressing into his back. Yixing can picture it easily, his hands resting on Junmyeon’s narrow waist. The sharp jut of his hips, slipping down lower as Junmyeon looks over his shoulder, lips parted and—

“Now what?” Junmyeon asks, and he sounds as breathless as Yixing had hoped to to make him. Yixing is starting to feel warmer than he intended.

“Five steps forward, slowly,” He reminds Junmyeon before he swings his sword. “ And spin so you face me.”

He picks up his sword from the ground while Junmyeon busies himself with the steps. When Junmyeon whirls around, he’s met with Yixing angling the sword downwards in front of him. “Keep going,” he orders. The tip of his sword is pointed towards the right, and Junmyeon’s to the left. “Now we circle each other.”

Junmyeon slowly slides his feet around, and they stand in front of each other, their pathways in the stone forming an invisible circle.

“Forwards,” Yixing says, and the moment the command leaves his mouth Junmyeon is following, determination in his eyes. He’s actually listening and paying attention instead of countering every last word Yixing says. It’s so refreshing, even if Yixing loves their banter. The sound their swords make echoes in their ear, a loud and heavy ringing of metal meeting metal. Yixing doesn’t voice his approval. He just spins his sword around, just barely nicking the edge of Junmyeon’s robes.

Junmyeon, to Yixing’s surprise, stays in his spot. He follows the movements in the opposite direction. Yixing’s sword is pointed to the sky, and Junmyeon’s to the ground. “Spin. This time we should be touching again.”

They do that, backs pressed against each other. Junmyeon tilts his head back for a second, and Yixing let’s it knock against his. He can feel every heave of Junmyeon’s chest, and he wants to see it. The fire in Junmyeon’s eyes, highlighted by the next move of the dance.

“Bring it under your eyes,” he continues. “And then direct it towards the left with a sliding movement.” Yixing does the same but to the right. “Now move away from me.”

As if eager to do so, Junmyeon jumps away. He looks shaky, thrown off his game if Yixing is reading him correctly. He likes that, the way Junmyeon’s cheeks can’t hide the flush from the effort he’s exerting— and other possible things.

“Slide next time, it’s smoother and looks better.” Yixing directs, pointing his sword at Junmyeon. “Point it towards me.”

Junmyeon follows. “Couldn’t I be imprisoned for this?” he smiles wryly. His bangs stick to his forehead, a testament of his constant working.

“I thought we’ve grown past that,” Yixing reminds him flatly. “Thrust your sword forward, and spin to avoid my blade.”

With a huff Junmyeon does it, they’re not facing each other anymore.

“You don’t even have the time to practise more.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Junmyeon raises an eyebrow at Yixing.

“Perform with me.”

“What?” Junmyeon blinks, “Why?”

“I can mask what you lack,” Yixing says, frowning. “You don’t have to deny me so rudely.”

“I’m not denying you at all,” Junmyeon breathes out. “I’m just shocked that it’s. I assumed you would be too busy to attend, given all your meeting’s and letters to respond to and—”

“I’m not,” Yixing cuts in smoothly. “And unless you don’t want to perform with me, I don’t see why not.”

“I would be honoured,” Junmyeon replies with a smile. “Like my own, personal send off. Isn’t it?”

“Think whatever you like,” He watches as Jongdae extends a cloth towards him. His lips are bordering a smirk and Yixing wants it gone soon.

“Well, that’s settled then.” Junmyeon wipes at his face lightly with the cloth. Even the way he holds it is more delicate than Yixing expected. “Shouldn’t you be busy preparing for the ceremony?” Junmyeon teases.

“Not as busy as you,” He’s looking at Junmyeon, and the way his lips quirk up. “But I do have to go. I’ll see you before the ceremony starts. Try to fit in a few more minutes of practice. I can adapt after all.”

“Gladly.” With a little bow, and funny looking salute, Junmyeon whirls away. His blue robes swim out behind him, and for whatever reason Yixing is tempted to reach out and grab it, make him stay.

“If I may Your Majesty,” Jongdae begins.

“You may not,” Yixing says, dabbing at his face.

“That was quite the spectacle,” Jongdae continues.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know, sometimes they say that it’s not the wielder, but the partner itself.” He pauses. “I suspect you were the right partner for him, Your Majesty.”

“Enough nonsense Jongdae. I have a banquet to prepare for.”

 

 

The inauguration goes smoother than Yixing had hoped. Everyone is high spirits, happy that after months of work the Kim Clan is back on the right track. Junmyeon takes his new title with ease, not breaking eye contact the entire time Yixing appoints him as the new leader of the North. He appoints some people he’s personally chosen (Do Kyungsoo, a hard worker who helped Yixing in the past as a permanent resident, and Baekhyun as someone with personal experience with the Kim Clan) to be Junmyeon’s right-hand men.

After the normal stiff ceremony, the festivities begin. The wine is brought out, and the food is served. Dancing and laughter fills the room, and everything feels right. Perfect, too perfect, but Yixing has personally made sure that nothing today would go wrong.

Soon enough, Junmyeon is called for his act of honour, and much to everyone’s surprise Yixing follows after him, sword in tow. Silence falls onto the room, hushed voices ceasing their whispering as the pair take their positions in the center of the room.

“Stance,” Yixing murmurs, pulling his sword back. He keeps the tip pointed towards the ground towards the right, and Junmyeon does the same but to the left. The beauty of sword dances came from the way they made a weapon of brutality and war into a showpiece, something passionate and frenzied amidst the cold banquet atmosphere.

Junmyeon follows suit, his posture has improved greatly, or maybe he was just hiding his true performance self. They circle each other slowly, Junmyeon keeps his eyes on Yixing, and Yixing does likewise. Their steps mirror each other, the taps of their feet echoing in time with the drum that is struck at intervals. The familiar beat settles in Yixing’s bones.

They surge forward at the same time, the swords meeting with a heavy clang. Yixing drops one hand off the hilt, spinning his sword upwards easily. Junmyeon spins it and leaves it angled down.

A spin. Their backs against each other. Swords angled horizontally, right under their eyes. An easy movement that has Yixing’s sword pointed to the right, and Junmyeon’s to left. They slide apart from each other, robes fluttering at the sudden move. Their swords are pointed at each other once again. Yixing’s eyes burn into Junmyeon’s, and Junmyeon accepts the flames.

A thrust towards each other, a spin to avoid being slaughtered by the blade. Junmyeon is matching his steps well, so well Yixing feels a stir inside him. He’s more than impressed. A drip of sweat runs down Junmyeon’s cheek, and Yixing wants to wipe it away.

They’re not facing each other anymore, the end of the dance approaching. With a final strong swing of his blade, Yixing twirls. Right on time, their swords meet in the center between them, crossed against each other.

There’s a moment where the clanging of their swords rings out, interrupting the heavy silence. Junmyeon looks at Yixing defiantly as always, and Yixing meets his gaze with just as much passion. It’s like they’re in a trance, blades pressed against each other, and their eyes locked. Daring the other to break away first.

The applause takes care of that for them, smatterings of clapping noises break throughout the room, shattering their moment. Junmyeon’s chest heaves as he stows his sword away, before striving gracefully towards him. As per custom, he dips into a bow, before straightening up.

“Thank you,” He murmurs, soft and sweet. Yixing wants to say something, anything about how he’s leaving in the early morning but he can’t. Not here. The look in Junmyeon’s eyes indicates that he gets that, the lingering hand he places on Yixing’s arm proves that. But more than anything this whisper in Yixing’s ears, to meet him outside, cements that.

 

 

They’re like teenagers, kids maybe. Reaching for each other the moment they find cover in the dark. Junmyeon’s cheeks pink as Yixing leans in to kiss Junmyeon. Slower, more purposeful this time. Junmyeon’s hands slide up cupping Yixing’s cheeks. It’s a gentle gesture, one Yixing has surprisingly become familiar with. He will miss this, along with everything about Junmyeon, terribly.

“People will notice if we’re gone long,” Junmyeon murmurs, still holding onto Yixing’s robes. They’re acting as if they won’t see each other forever. They’ll see each other, sporadically, when Yixing comes to visit, and vice versa. But who knows when the next time will be. Yixing will be right back to his boring duties and stacks of stacks of paper, his head filled with the countless worries his empire provided. Junmyeon will be no better, having to help build up a broken clan. Yixing wonders if the letters they will send will be enough to quell his occasional bout of loneliness. They probably won’t, but he’ll manage. “Should we head back?”

"I'd rather not," Yixing says, selfishly. They're only counting down hours from here. Too little time spent together, too little words shared between them.

"If you order me too," Junmyeon presses a kiss against Yixing's lips. "Then I suppose I don't have a choice."

"I won't." He can't. Not anymore. If Junmyeon decides to stay he'll indulge in him, if he doesn't, they'll go back to the banquet as if nothing has happened. As if they're just two people who work together, no more, no less. Even if anyone with eyes, could clearly see how Yixing favoured Junmyeon.

"Then we should go," Junmyeon's voice is filled with longing, "It's not like the banquet will go on all night anyways."

One last night between them.

“Not going to kiss my ring before we go?” Like a promise, shared between them. Junmyeon brings him in for another kiss, as if he’ll never let Yixing go. When they pull apart Junmyeon’s eyes are glassy, as if he’s going to cry. Yixing looks down at Junmyeon’s lips, drags his thumb across his lower one slowly. A pretty picture, like Junmyeon.

Junmyeon takes Yixing’s hand in his, and does as asked. A quick peck to Yixing’s ring, and he’s smiling like nothing’s wrong. And maybe he’s got the right idea, because they’re ok. The Kingdom is ok, and the Kim Clan, through a union of the Empire and Junmyeon’s effort will thrive someday in the future.

Notes:

 

 

 

ahh this was a bit (I think a bit is generous considering it is highkey) messy butthis was, absolutely unlike anything I've written before. It was so fun to explore and brainstorm for this universe, I can only hope the prompter enjoyed this, and I have to thank the prompter for the amazing prompt itself.