Unpredictable Impulses, Chapter 8.2 (for simplicity's sake, and because Fanfiction.net won't let me label it chapter 8.2, we'll just call it 9. *looks grumpy*)
Based on T3, Hwoarang's ending: He's tired of fighting. He's tired of being alone. He's even tired of college! Jin picks up Hwoarang's tab in a bar, with some interesting results. Yaoi: m/m relationship (Jin X Hwoarang). R for language misuse, implied illegal action, & sexual activities.
Author's Note: I've never played any other Tekken game but T3, so I'm going to pretend that none of the others exist anymore. And Hwoarang did not join any stupid army! *snorts at the absurdity of the idea* That would really ruin my story. Maybe he became a citizen of the country he's going to college in... Yes... I think I like that idea... but I'm still referring to him as Korean, since that is his birth nationality.
Author's Note 2: I don't own Tekken or its characters, so don't sue me, but I can damn well ignore the parts of both that I don't like since I'm not even writing this for profit! *crosses eyes and sticks tongue out*
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Author's Note 3: I didn't want to wait any longer to post this, even though the former chapter 8 has not been reconstructed to my satisfaction. I hate pop quizzes, essays, finals, and blah blah blah... -.-" won't bore you all with my angsty issues... lol. Simply suffice it to be known that I have little time at the moment and have been dividing what I *have* had with this chapter, and a plot bunny that's been hopping around in my mind for gods know how long... Just for reference, are there any fans of a Drizzt Do'Urden / Legolas Greenleaf pairing out there?
Author's Note 4: The song in here is copyrighted to Sheryl Benita Moore, used with her permission.
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Before Hwoarang could come to any decision about which Jin was which, a tall, skinny black man in a green cardigan, combat boots and a kilt strode up to them from behind the counter. "Shinji," he greeted with a flash of white teeth, then held up a forefinger. "Shhh... come into the back rooms and we'll talk." He glanced uneasily at Hwoarang, thick eyebrows narrowing as though to say 'who the hell is he?'
Hwoarang opened his mouth to speak, but Jin elbowed him lightly and beamed a smile at the man. "Garrett Madiero," he said quietly, "this is my guest for the evening and as long as he cares to stay at my residence. Meet Kotun Mikoshi, fellow student." Garrett stuck his hand out gruffly for a quick handshake, but didn't speak. He jerked his head toward a door guarded by two burly Americans, each wearing black suits with a billy club hanging from the belt, and started for it. They nodded almost imperceptibly as Garrett passed.
Jin made to follow, but Hwoarang placed a hand lightly on his arm. "He doesn't seem to like me very well," he whispered, eyes nervous.
"He may seem to blow you off at first, that's just the way he is. He'll get over it soon enough," the Japanese responded with a reassuring wink.
Hwoarang let it go with an inward sigh. *I hope he's right,* he thought to himself. He fell into step behind Jin, suppressing the urge to cling to the back of his vest. One of the guards opened the door with an intimidating scowl, but the Japanese only bowed respectfully as he entered the hallway. The only light source was an open door on the right side of the hall; that is where they headed. The brightness of the light was startling after the dim hallway and darker club, as though they had returned to reality after a trip through a fantasy realm. Garrett was seated already on one of the four white satin couches in the room. There was one against each wall, and an oaken round table with a slowly spinning crystalline Buddha fountain on it. Picturesque, if not for the fake moustache that had been put on the poised statue. "Have a seat," the vocalist offered. "A drink for either of you?"
"Business first, pleasure later," Jin replied firmly with accent intact. He sat down, glancing at the Korean to see that he did the same, and leaned forward immediately to peer across the table at Garrett. "There is rumor on the street that things grow in this club," he added with no preamble. "How bad is the infestation?"
Garret ran a hand across his shaven head, black eyes uncertain and posture questioning. "I haven't heard anything about that," he said slowly. "Nor have I seen anyth-"
"Matt told me," Jin interrupted, and from the slight widening and then narrowing of his eyes, the vocalist was not pleased to hear this.
"There has been no sign of any trouble yet, except when I go offstage for a drink." The cardican seemed to swell as he shrugged. "I'm glad you decided to show up today, Shinji. I'll make sure to mention this to the techs."
Jin shrugged back, feeling queasy. Tingles ran up his spine and up his neck and up across his skull, chill where the enchanted Devil-marks lay dormant beneath his skin. "The warning may be too late."
The Korean crossed his arms, frowning. "Not if we can help it. The carrion feeders have no excuse to be interested... do they?"
Jin turned his head to regard his guest with a fake look of agreement, but his eyes told a different story. Hwoarang's ears burned for a moment, but he held Jin's gaze without glancing away. "Of course," was all Jin said.
"The warning hasn't come too late. The techs will take care of everything, don't you worry. I'm glad you showed up," Garrett repeated with the hint of a genuine smile. "I know this has been brief, but if you wish to speak with me again later and if the weeds do not become malignant-" he laughed. "I will be more than pleased to accept your company. Until then, and if not, good evening. I go to collect the band members."
Jin and Hwoarang watched in silence as he exited the room, both noting with ample amusement that the backside of his kilt was nonexistent. Oh well. These days, it was possible to get away with such. The door closed softly and Jin stared at the spinning Buddha, visibly angry. The redhead wondered with a sinking heart if he had done something wrong. "Shinji," he started timidly, stopping as Jin met his eyes. The burn in those tawny orbs mellowed slowly, a faint smile crinkling them at the edges. "You looked... upset."
"I was," the Japanese said simply, putting his arms around Hwoarang's waist and drawing him close. "Garrett turns a blind eye on that which he does not want to see. Like you, for instance."
"What do you mean?" Hwoarang's voice was muffled slightly as he rested his head against Jin's shoulder, returning the embrace.
"He seems to have always harbored some interest in seducing me, though he hasn't been trying hard lately. A good thing, too; I'd hate to have to get violent." A few chords, laden with heavy bass, were audible as the band began tuning up. Hwoarang straightened up at the thought, smiling into Jin's eyes. "But for now... just so you are warned, do not be alarmed if the walls and the floor begin to shake. I can't say why, not now, but remember that." Light brown eyes twinkled down into dark while guitar riffs and cheers marked the beginning of a song. They hardly heard it though.
"All right," the Korean whispered, eyes shutting of their own accord as Jin placed a warm kiss on his lips. It was short but tender, leaving a smile on both their faces.
*Don't rush it,* the Japanese reminded himself. While he wanted to engage in more serious things with his guest, this was neither the time or the place. Jin kissed the tip of his nose impishly and stood up, dragging Hwoarang with him. "Come on! I want to dance with you." The redhead laughed and followed, holding unabashedly to one of Jin's hands.
They emerged from the door at the end of the hallway into the hazy club, fading immediately into the crowd and making their way toward the area reserved for dancing. The costumes were something spectacular, though obviously not required. Unsurprisingly, with the wantonness of youth, several couples were dancing intimately, while others equipped with glowsticks on strings or across fingers kept to something more tame, but just as uninhibited. Then, there were pairs *ballroom dancing* - it should have seemed out of place, but it didn't. Hwoarang looked on the gathering in a new light and realized just how unique this sort of thing was: there were many diverse races here, all with different styles and most likely different views, but that didn't stop them from congregating and simply having fun. They weren't all young, either. *That's what it is,* he realized, startled. *This is a place for everyone. Not just one or two minority groups...*
Jin spun around, grinning through the smoke. "What do you think?"
His guest only shook his head with mock disappointment. "I don't know how to dance!" he admitted, with a smirk of his own. "You'll have to teach me a few moves." Before a response could be made, a woman with bunny ears flopping atop her head passed close to them with a tray of shot glasses.
Hwoarang paused to look askance at the spike-haired fighter, but Jin had already taken one and shrugged comfortably. "It's herbal tea," he confirmed after taking a sip. "Safe enough." The woman pretty much ignored them until they replaced their empty glasses on the tray, two wrinkled dollar bills finding their way there as well. Then she dimpled at them and moved on. Up on the stage in the middle of the room, rainbow lights flashed across the main microphone, highlighting Garrett's outlandish outfit as he began to sing to the half-jazz, half-punk instrumentals.
~I saw you there but you never saw me
~Felt your pain but you didn't care
~Because I touched you only with my eyes
~I heard you just because you cried
~Still never heard nothin' so - beautiful
Around them, whistles and scattered cheering erupted again and more people started to dance. Jin leaned close to his guest, so he could whisper in his ear. His lips were close enough to brush against Hwoarang's earlobe. "If I am going to teach you some moves, then I get to choose which ones." A blush spread across the Korean's face, but he nodded acceptance and was turned around in short order, heart speeding up drastically as his host's arms entertwined around his chest, the pad of Jin's right thumb brushing across his lips in a symbolic kiss as warm breath tickled his ear. The arms slid slowly down until they encircled Hwoarang's waist, pulling him back gently to meet the support of Jin's hips. The Korean swallowed hard, nervous and sure that everyone was staring at them.
~I knew you but you've never met me
~I was obsessed to your oblivion
~And you refused to say hello
~Never hesitated to shout - goodbye
The rising smoke began to take a more solid hue. It was only an effect of the lighting, but it served as an optical barrier to all but the upraised stage. The glowlights sent swirls and ripples through the smoke, momentarily revealing the dancers behind them. "Bend your knees a little," Jin instructed softly, "and follow my movements." He started guiding the Korean's hips around in languid circles, his own eyes shut to savor the nearly full-body touch. Hwoarang was lost somewhere between embarassment and arousal, head flung back ever so slightly. *So this is why so many couples dance this way,* he thought dazedly. His arms found their way across Jin's, fingers clasping his- perhaps clinging just a little.
~I'm just a shadow to you, now
~Look right through me with those eyes
~See right through me with empy smiles
~Look deeper still and see these - dreams
A grating rumble, followed by a gradually increasing quaking of walls and floor, made a few of the dancers stumble, but it wasn't so terrific that it sent anyone to the floor. "And now we're dropping down a level," Jin whispered into the redhead's ear. "That's one of the reasons that these places are called mobile dance clubs." There was an odd feeling, like being in an elevator headed down, for a moment, then a *click* that was felt more than heard and the room stopped moving. The Korean didn't care whether it moved or not- he was moving, and so was Jin. He had long since relaxed into Jin's embrace, except for resisting the rhythmic motion and pressing back to meet it. His reward was a soft nip at the earlobe. *Oh god...*
~Blackened silk slips through my fingers
~I reached for you but lost my intent
~You're untouchable, your heart beats alone
~Reached for love and still I - burn
Try as he might, the Japanese couldn't resist the curve of Hwoarang's neck, so he growled softly and kissed it. A sharply-drawn breath and a low whimper encouraged him. Jin realized then that perhaps his guest was as turned on as he. "Are you all right?" he breathed. For an answer the redhead tilted his face toward him, those dark eyes almost drunken with wanting. Hwoarang kissed him boldly, running his tongue sensuously across Jin's bottom lip, eliciting an open invitation. Jin all but slurped the Korean's tongue into his mouth and slid his own along its length, and discovered with amazement that his guest was *shaking* as their hands held tight together. They stopped dancing then, Hwoarang turning in his embrace and holding on to him as the kiss intensified. Somehow Jin's hands found their way to his ass.
~I always had the best of intentions
~What you had was superstition
~I fled your piercing gaze today
~Won't give up my hopes of - forever
Hwoarang drew back and broke the kiss as the instrumentals again took over the song. "I was all right," he chuckled breathlessly, "until you started humping me!"
The corner of the Japanese man's mouth twitched. He was trying hard not to grin, but failing miserably. "Well... it is the dance I chose to teach you," he responded with a playful squeeze. The redhead's cheeks colored.
He leaned close to whisper softly in Jin's ear. "I'd rather take this particular dance somewhere private." Before he could say anything else, he was swept up into the spike-haired man's arms.
"That could be arranged," was all Jin said as he strode toward the exit.
Based on T3, Hwoarang's ending: He's tired of fighting. He's tired of being alone. He's even tired of college! Jin picks up Hwoarang's tab in a bar, with some interesting results. Yaoi: m/m relationship (Jin X Hwoarang). R for language misuse, implied illegal action, & sexual activities.
Author's Note: I've never played any other Tekken game but T3, so I'm going to pretend that none of the others exist anymore. And Hwoarang did not join any stupid army! *snorts at the absurdity of the idea* That would really ruin my story. Maybe he became a citizen of the country he's going to college in... Yes... I think I like that idea... but I'm still referring to him as Korean, since that is his birth nationality.
Author's Note 2: I don't own Tekken or its characters, so don't sue me, but I can damn well ignore the parts of both that I don't like since I'm not even writing this for profit! *crosses eyes and sticks tongue out*
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Author's Note 3: I didn't want to wait any longer to post this, even though the former chapter 8 has not been reconstructed to my satisfaction. I hate pop quizzes, essays, finals, and blah blah blah... -.-" won't bore you all with my angsty issues... lol. Simply suffice it to be known that I have little time at the moment and have been dividing what I *have* had with this chapter, and a plot bunny that's been hopping around in my mind for gods know how long... Just for reference, are there any fans of a Drizzt Do'Urden / Legolas Greenleaf pairing out there?
Author's Note 4: The song in here is copyrighted to Sheryl Benita Moore, used with her permission.
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Before Hwoarang could come to any decision about which Jin was which, a tall, skinny black man in a green cardigan, combat boots and a kilt strode up to them from behind the counter. "Shinji," he greeted with a flash of white teeth, then held up a forefinger. "Shhh... come into the back rooms and we'll talk." He glanced uneasily at Hwoarang, thick eyebrows narrowing as though to say 'who the hell is he?'
Hwoarang opened his mouth to speak, but Jin elbowed him lightly and beamed a smile at the man. "Garrett Madiero," he said quietly, "this is my guest for the evening and as long as he cares to stay at my residence. Meet Kotun Mikoshi, fellow student." Garrett stuck his hand out gruffly for a quick handshake, but didn't speak. He jerked his head toward a door guarded by two burly Americans, each wearing black suits with a billy club hanging from the belt, and started for it. They nodded almost imperceptibly as Garrett passed.
Jin made to follow, but Hwoarang placed a hand lightly on his arm. "He doesn't seem to like me very well," he whispered, eyes nervous.
"He may seem to blow you off at first, that's just the way he is. He'll get over it soon enough," the Japanese responded with a reassuring wink.
Hwoarang let it go with an inward sigh. *I hope he's right,* he thought to himself. He fell into step behind Jin, suppressing the urge to cling to the back of his vest. One of the guards opened the door with an intimidating scowl, but the Japanese only bowed respectfully as he entered the hallway. The only light source was an open door on the right side of the hall; that is where they headed. The brightness of the light was startling after the dim hallway and darker club, as though they had returned to reality after a trip through a fantasy realm. Garrett was seated already on one of the four white satin couches in the room. There was one against each wall, and an oaken round table with a slowly spinning crystalline Buddha fountain on it. Picturesque, if not for the fake moustache that had been put on the poised statue. "Have a seat," the vocalist offered. "A drink for either of you?"
"Business first, pleasure later," Jin replied firmly with accent intact. He sat down, glancing at the Korean to see that he did the same, and leaned forward immediately to peer across the table at Garrett. "There is rumor on the street that things grow in this club," he added with no preamble. "How bad is the infestation?"
Garret ran a hand across his shaven head, black eyes uncertain and posture questioning. "I haven't heard anything about that," he said slowly. "Nor have I seen anyth-"
"Matt told me," Jin interrupted, and from the slight widening and then narrowing of his eyes, the vocalist was not pleased to hear this.
"There has been no sign of any trouble yet, except when I go offstage for a drink." The cardican seemed to swell as he shrugged. "I'm glad you decided to show up today, Shinji. I'll make sure to mention this to the techs."
Jin shrugged back, feeling queasy. Tingles ran up his spine and up his neck and up across his skull, chill where the enchanted Devil-marks lay dormant beneath his skin. "The warning may be too late."
The Korean crossed his arms, frowning. "Not if we can help it. The carrion feeders have no excuse to be interested... do they?"
Jin turned his head to regard his guest with a fake look of agreement, but his eyes told a different story. Hwoarang's ears burned for a moment, but he held Jin's gaze without glancing away. "Of course," was all Jin said.
"The warning hasn't come too late. The techs will take care of everything, don't you worry. I'm glad you showed up," Garrett repeated with the hint of a genuine smile. "I know this has been brief, but if you wish to speak with me again later and if the weeds do not become malignant-" he laughed. "I will be more than pleased to accept your company. Until then, and if not, good evening. I go to collect the band members."
Jin and Hwoarang watched in silence as he exited the room, both noting with ample amusement that the backside of his kilt was nonexistent. Oh well. These days, it was possible to get away with such. The door closed softly and Jin stared at the spinning Buddha, visibly angry. The redhead wondered with a sinking heart if he had done something wrong. "Shinji," he started timidly, stopping as Jin met his eyes. The burn in those tawny orbs mellowed slowly, a faint smile crinkling them at the edges. "You looked... upset."
"I was," the Japanese said simply, putting his arms around Hwoarang's waist and drawing him close. "Garrett turns a blind eye on that which he does not want to see. Like you, for instance."
"What do you mean?" Hwoarang's voice was muffled slightly as he rested his head against Jin's shoulder, returning the embrace.
"He seems to have always harbored some interest in seducing me, though he hasn't been trying hard lately. A good thing, too; I'd hate to have to get violent." A few chords, laden with heavy bass, were audible as the band began tuning up. Hwoarang straightened up at the thought, smiling into Jin's eyes. "But for now... just so you are warned, do not be alarmed if the walls and the floor begin to shake. I can't say why, not now, but remember that." Light brown eyes twinkled down into dark while guitar riffs and cheers marked the beginning of a song. They hardly heard it though.
"All right," the Korean whispered, eyes shutting of their own accord as Jin placed a warm kiss on his lips. It was short but tender, leaving a smile on both their faces.
*Don't rush it,* the Japanese reminded himself. While he wanted to engage in more serious things with his guest, this was neither the time or the place. Jin kissed the tip of his nose impishly and stood up, dragging Hwoarang with him. "Come on! I want to dance with you." The redhead laughed and followed, holding unabashedly to one of Jin's hands.
They emerged from the door at the end of the hallway into the hazy club, fading immediately into the crowd and making their way toward the area reserved for dancing. The costumes were something spectacular, though obviously not required. Unsurprisingly, with the wantonness of youth, several couples were dancing intimately, while others equipped with glowsticks on strings or across fingers kept to something more tame, but just as uninhibited. Then, there were pairs *ballroom dancing* - it should have seemed out of place, but it didn't. Hwoarang looked on the gathering in a new light and realized just how unique this sort of thing was: there were many diverse races here, all with different styles and most likely different views, but that didn't stop them from congregating and simply having fun. They weren't all young, either. *That's what it is,* he realized, startled. *This is a place for everyone. Not just one or two minority groups...*
Jin spun around, grinning through the smoke. "What do you think?"
His guest only shook his head with mock disappointment. "I don't know how to dance!" he admitted, with a smirk of his own. "You'll have to teach me a few moves." Before a response could be made, a woman with bunny ears flopping atop her head passed close to them with a tray of shot glasses.
Hwoarang paused to look askance at the spike-haired fighter, but Jin had already taken one and shrugged comfortably. "It's herbal tea," he confirmed after taking a sip. "Safe enough." The woman pretty much ignored them until they replaced their empty glasses on the tray, two wrinkled dollar bills finding their way there as well. Then she dimpled at them and moved on. Up on the stage in the middle of the room, rainbow lights flashed across the main microphone, highlighting Garrett's outlandish outfit as he began to sing to the half-jazz, half-punk instrumentals.
~I saw you there but you never saw me
~Felt your pain but you didn't care
~Because I touched you only with my eyes
~I heard you just because you cried
~Still never heard nothin' so - beautiful
Around them, whistles and scattered cheering erupted again and more people started to dance. Jin leaned close to his guest, so he could whisper in his ear. His lips were close enough to brush against Hwoarang's earlobe. "If I am going to teach you some moves, then I get to choose which ones." A blush spread across the Korean's face, but he nodded acceptance and was turned around in short order, heart speeding up drastically as his host's arms entertwined around his chest, the pad of Jin's right thumb brushing across his lips in a symbolic kiss as warm breath tickled his ear. The arms slid slowly down until they encircled Hwoarang's waist, pulling him back gently to meet the support of Jin's hips. The Korean swallowed hard, nervous and sure that everyone was staring at them.
~I knew you but you've never met me
~I was obsessed to your oblivion
~And you refused to say hello
~Never hesitated to shout - goodbye
The rising smoke began to take a more solid hue. It was only an effect of the lighting, but it served as an optical barrier to all but the upraised stage. The glowlights sent swirls and ripples through the smoke, momentarily revealing the dancers behind them. "Bend your knees a little," Jin instructed softly, "and follow my movements." He started guiding the Korean's hips around in languid circles, his own eyes shut to savor the nearly full-body touch. Hwoarang was lost somewhere between embarassment and arousal, head flung back ever so slightly. *So this is why so many couples dance this way,* he thought dazedly. His arms found their way across Jin's, fingers clasping his- perhaps clinging just a little.
~I'm just a shadow to you, now
~Look right through me with those eyes
~See right through me with empy smiles
~Look deeper still and see these - dreams
A grating rumble, followed by a gradually increasing quaking of walls and floor, made a few of the dancers stumble, but it wasn't so terrific that it sent anyone to the floor. "And now we're dropping down a level," Jin whispered into the redhead's ear. "That's one of the reasons that these places are called mobile dance clubs." There was an odd feeling, like being in an elevator headed down, for a moment, then a *click* that was felt more than heard and the room stopped moving. The Korean didn't care whether it moved or not- he was moving, and so was Jin. He had long since relaxed into Jin's embrace, except for resisting the rhythmic motion and pressing back to meet it. His reward was a soft nip at the earlobe. *Oh god...*
~Blackened silk slips through my fingers
~I reached for you but lost my intent
~You're untouchable, your heart beats alone
~Reached for love and still I - burn
Try as he might, the Japanese couldn't resist the curve of Hwoarang's neck, so he growled softly and kissed it. A sharply-drawn breath and a low whimper encouraged him. Jin realized then that perhaps his guest was as turned on as he. "Are you all right?" he breathed. For an answer the redhead tilted his face toward him, those dark eyes almost drunken with wanting. Hwoarang kissed him boldly, running his tongue sensuously across Jin's bottom lip, eliciting an open invitation. Jin all but slurped the Korean's tongue into his mouth and slid his own along its length, and discovered with amazement that his guest was *shaking* as their hands held tight together. They stopped dancing then, Hwoarang turning in his embrace and holding on to him as the kiss intensified. Somehow Jin's hands found their way to his ass.
~I always had the best of intentions
~What you had was superstition
~I fled your piercing gaze today
~Won't give up my hopes of - forever
Hwoarang drew back and broke the kiss as the instrumentals again took over the song. "I was all right," he chuckled breathlessly, "until you started humping me!"
The corner of the Japanese man's mouth twitched. He was trying hard not to grin, but failing miserably. "Well... it is the dance I chose to teach you," he responded with a playful squeeze. The redhead's cheeks colored.
He leaned close to whisper softly in Jin's ear. "I'd rather take this particular dance somewhere private." Before he could say anything else, he was swept up into the spike-haired man's arms.
"That could be arranged," was all Jin said as he strode toward the exit.