A/N: There is actually such a word as 'singsonging'! I laughed... and then used it.
Disclaimer: The Tekkiverse, Hwoarang, and Baek are not mine.
Intoxicated
Hwoarang glared down at the woman in his arms, a half-hearted expression that quickly melted into his trademark smirk. He was still riding high on the thrill of excitement from escaping the dojo, and it left him feeling even more daring than usual. His fingers were practically twitching in anticipation with the opportunity the moment was presenting.
Faith, oblivious to his mental perving, had settled comfortably against his chest, an unconscious reaction to being pulled close in the cool weather. Her scant attire didn't help in keeping warm either. Or so she reasoned. To him, however, it was a tempting move that left a gap in her usual defenses.
With thoughts of their far-from-chaste encounter still fresh enough to taste, the redhead slid one hand lower, watching with more than a little amusement as realizations lit up Faith's eyes at what he was doing. His enjoyment doubled as the realization turned into an incredibly hostile glare.
"Now, now... After that little performance, you can't justify hitting me for indulging in a little groping," he clucked disapprovingly, giving an affectionate squeeze to the handful of soft flesh he'd taken hold of.
"I sure as hell can!" the agitated woman exclaimed, attempting to shove herself away from the now grinning Hwoarang.
Unfortunately for her, she only succeeded in creating a rubber band effect. Gaining space with the initial push, she was pulled back forcefully into a tight embrace, her body pressed flush against his. Toe to toe and almost nose to nose, the American found herself torn between the urges to either kiss or maim him. Knowing the first would be the same as handing him victory, she chose a warning prelude to the latter.
"Let me go, Hwoarang," she growled, giving another experimental pull backwards. As expected, she was held firmly in place.
Hwoarang felt a flare of impatient annoyance at her resistance, but kept it in check. Considering his usual charm had zero effect, he'd decided that the best way to break down her walls would take a hands-on approach. His favorite type.
"Mmm.... no," he drawled lazily in response to her determination to escape.
In an effort to soothe the object of his attention, if only a little, he brought the offensively grabbing hand back up, cupping the side of her face and tilting it up to face him. Bright aqua eyes blazed back at him, and he couldn't help but smirk even wider in response.
"You are the devil of mixed signals, woman. First you act like I'm a no good kidnapper, and then you dote on me when I get sick. You leave without a goodbye or a thank you," here Faith opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by a finger placed to her lips, "but then you come back without telling anyone. You treat me like an annoying child when I find you, and then hunt me down and offer up a late night striptease."
It was at that point that Faith began to protest out loud, but was cut off yet again.
"Say what you want, woman. You can run your mouth all night long, body language still says a hell of a lot more."
Planning a scathing reply, Faith found herself unable to grit it out, and not because of the actions of her temporary captor. Lying obviously wouldn't help at this point, so instead she tried pushing away from him yet again. This time the grip holding her in place loosened, and the sudden release made her stumble.
Catching her balance, the lightly dressed shopkeep took several steps down the deserted street, her back to the man staring after her. Crossing her arms in a pitiful attempt to keep warm, it was a lot colder out without a big, firm body to sink against, she glanced over her shoulder at Hwoarang. His face had set in that infuriatingly unreadable expression.
"Look," she turned back around but kept the distance between them, "I'm not just going to go falling into your arms like some hussy in a romance novel," she ignored the quirked eyebrow that statement received, "That's just not how I am. Tonight was more of a... dare than anything. I didn't expect it to go so far."
It wasn't a lie. It wasn't exactly the whole truth, considering she had almost hoped it would escalate before getting the cold feet she was exhibiting now, but it wasn't a lie.
"Reeeaaaally."
Faith felt like flinching at the gratingly drawn out syllables. The barely contained anger that single word held was nothing compared to the look he was giving her. The unreadable expression he'd held had faltered, revealing a stung and insulted reaction to her words.
"Hwoarang that's not what..."
She got no further as a pair of blazing headlights suddenly lit up the street and headed straight towards them. Shielding her eyes from the glare, Faith watched as the taxi approached and pulled to a stop beside the motionless biker on the sidewalk. The rear door of the vehicle opened, and a rather severe looking man with a salt-and-pepper ponytail emerged.
"Hwoarang! "
In one fluid, automatic movement, the redhead turned towards his mentor's authoritative voice and gave a small bow. Following the unspoken command, he sensed a serious verbal assault in the near future, he moved to get into the car on the other side, but was deterred by yet another command, this one softly spoken.
"And the girl. She can't walk home alone.... especially not in that."
Ignoring the implications hidden in those words, Hwoarang gave another, stiffer, bow before grinding his teeth and turning back towards Faith. She'd turned away when she saw him go for the door handle, but it took the leggy Korean only a few strides to reach her and catch her elbow in a less than gentle manner.
"Baek's giving you a ride home."
Wrenching her arm out of the rough hold, Faith looked past him to the older man still waiting patiently. He nodded politely to her, a gesture she returned with more than a touch of respect.
"So that's Baek Doo San?"
"Yeah," came the flat reply, "Now let's go."
Not bothering to take a hold of her again, Hwoarang went back to the taxi and held the rear passenger door open expectantly. At least she figured it was expectantly. His expression was as telling as that of a corpse.
Unconsciously squaring her shoulders, the shivering woman accepted the Tae Kwon Do master's invitation and tried to ignore the indifference she was experiencing from his coldly courteous pupil. She regretted the decision within minutes.
The ride to her place turned out to be the ten most awkward minutes of her life.
Settling down on the lumpy seat and telling the driver her address, she found herself sandwiched between two stoically close-mouthed Koreans: Baek, radiating a regal, intimidating quiet, and Hwoarang, who exhibited a very blatant, tight lipped exercise in the art of the silent treatment.
Unwilling to shatter the stillness that even the driver seemed to be enforcing, Faith used the time to study the younger of her fellow passengers from the corner of her eye.
Oh did he look furious.
This was no scowling pissfit brought on by harsh ribbing; this was full blown seething. The redhead's posture was a study in tension, with a ramrod straight back offset by rigid shoulders. His jaw was clenched so tightly it made the tendons in his neck stand out, full lips, usually set in a perpetual smirk, pressed together in a bloodless white line below smoldering eyes and furrowed brows.
For one unthinking moment, she felt like reaching up and stroking the taut musculature to ease the outstanding tendons and smooth the upset lines that now carved his forehead. And then she remembered where she was and who was seated on her other side. Doing that might be just a little awkward.
Repressing the sudden impulse, and wishing she could have finished speaking her thoughts when it had been just the two of them, Faith tried not to shift uncomfortably. She wanted desperately, much to her internal chagrin, to finish her explanation and to alleviate the angry strain that had suddenly sprung up between them.
She'd hurt his delicate male ego, there was no other way to account for his reaction, and while the intent of so many past insults had been aimed to irritate, this was definitely not one of those times. She hadn't even been trying this time!
Damn the taxi driver and his terrible timing.
She was still dwelling on that thought when they arrived outside her building.
The American's departure from the vehicle was as chilly as the invitation had been. Free from the confines of the backseat, she bowed politely to Baek and brushed past Hwoarang, who'd slid out first to clear the way. Standing with arms crossed, he refused to look at her, even when she stood facing him.
"Hwo-"
He completely ignored her, turning on his heel to sling himself gracefully back into the cab. The last thing she heard from him was the slamming of the taxi door and the rev of the engine as it sped both master and pupil away.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Faith folded her arms and watched the taillights grow smaller until they turned a corner. Shaking her head, she braced herself for the Eun Interrogation that was waiting inside.
Glancing over his shoulder, Baek watched the woman's form grow smaller as she stood on the sidewalk watching them leave. Turning his eyes to Hwoarang, he stalled the scolding he'd prepared. The younger man looked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on too many times and was ready to strike at the slightest provocation. He'd never seen his student worked up over any woman, and so decided to test the waters.
"Nice legs," he observed, still observing the redhead from the corner of his eyes.
It took Hwoarang a moment to figure out what his master was talking about. When the realization sank in, a wave of surprise hit him. Baek never talked about women. At least not to him.
"Oh... uh... yeah."
It didn't matter that he was angry at the subject of their conversation, the sudden surprise left him with only the knee jerk truth.
"Mhmm..." Baek leveled a look at him. "And I bet you discovered just how nice they are in the dojo," the older man's tone turned more severe with each word.
The accusation cleared up the biker's surprise, returning the scowl to his face. Forgetting who he was talking to, his words came out sharper than was respectful.
"No, I didn't."
Noticing the dark look that settled on Baek's face, he quickly corrected himself.
"Sorry, Master. It's just a touchy subject and I'd rather not talk about her."
Mollified by the apology, he couldn't expect much more from his clearly agitated student, the Tae Kwon Do master let the subject go for the moment. After all, with Hwoarang's military release and doubled dedication to training, he had all the time he wanted to punish the smartmouth.
The rest of the drive was fairly quiet, with only the occasional angry mutter about a dare breaking the peace.
The dojo was finally finished, standing stoically in the waning sunlight. Hwoarang was impressed.
It's construction had moved along so quickly that he'd thought corners must have been cut to get it finished in such a short time. Looking at it now he could see that wasn't the case. From afar, the structure appeared just as dignified and intimidating as the previous dojo had. Moving in closer through the orange light, he could see that only quality materials had been used, and all the details had been meticulously taken care of. His mentor would accept no less.
Sliding open the front door, he decided to see if the inside looked as nice. Baek would be displeased that he couldn't play tour guide in his new kingdom, but Hwoarang had never been one to leave his curiosity unsatisfied.
One small step and he was in, the walls reflecting the warm colored light from outside. Far from inspecting more of the building, however, his attention was drawn immediately to the center of the wood slat floor.
She was in that ridiculously appealing blue number again. Unlike last time, however, she looked appropriately bashful, kneeling in the center of the spacious floor and raising her lowered gaze to look at him through thick lashes. The demure display dissipated the grudge against her he'd been clinging to for the past several weeks.
With more than a little arrogance in his stride, he cleared his throat and sauntered over to where she remained motionless and watching him. Refusing to sit, he cocked his head questioningly at the woman below him. To his surprise, Faith reached up to take his hand instead of speaking, pulling gently downward with a pout. It seemed like she was returning the silent treatment he'd given her, but in a far cuter way.
Deciding to concede, he slowly bent down until his knees touched the floor. No sooner had he lowered himself than he found he had a lap full of Faith. She had pounced on him, draping herself across his lap and linking her arms around his neck. Pushing as close as possible she finally spoke to him, her voice a breathy whisper.
"Hwoarang, I want you. I want you to... wake up. Wake up, Hwoarang..."
Groaning, the redhead rolled over, trying futilely to keep a grasp on the wisps of the quickly fading scene around him. But it dissolved anyway, leaving him with only the red-tinted darkness of light shining through closed eyelids.
"Been dreamin' about me again?"
He turned to the purring voice, cracking his eyes open to greet the late morning sunshine and the woman who'd been speaking to him. Instead of the clear aqua eyes he'd been mentally locked with, the face inches from his held two deep brown, almost black, orbs, the edges around them smudged with makeup not washed off the night before. He groaned again.
"Hyun-Ok."
He said the name flatly, the same way one might curse the crappy weather.
"Well that's an awesome 'good morning'. Dickhead."
The biker was expecting the punch to the ribs and so didn't flinch in the slightest. Not that it really would have hurt if he hadn't been prepared for it.
"Don't test me, Hyun-Ok. I'm not in the mood."
"That's not what you said last niiiiight."
It was difficult, but Hwoarang managed to rein in the desire to shove the singsonging woman right off the bed. Instead, he focused on de-tangling the sheets from around his waist and escaping from the bed and it's smarmy female occupant. The need to wash away the morning after smell of stale sweat and cheap perfume was suddenly overwhelming and fueled his speedy rush for the shower.
Pretending not to hear the dark-haired woman's irritated hiss behind him, the ruffled biker made a beeline for the sanctuary of his bathroom. Positive that there weren't going to be any mid-lathering surprises, a double check of the lock ensured that, he allowed his mind to drift back to the now hazy images he'd been enjoying before waking up.
As the hot water and soap scent refreshed and reanimated both senses and body for the upcoming day, Hwoarang's mind was still stuck in the night and beyond. Drifting mentally, he left the charms of fantasy for the more solid memories of flesh and blood experience. The tickle of silk fabric, the warm press of skin, and that irresistible mix of coyness and seduction...
"Fuck!"
The exclamation was followed by a hollow thud as a half melted bar of soap slammed into the shower wall. The redhead glared at the slippery nugget as it slid back to rest against his foot. It wasn't really the soap he felt like raging against, that poor lump just happened to be on hand to commit violence against.
The alley cat had seeped into his subconscious, and damnit, it pissed him off! What right did she have to go filling his dreams with her teasing, even after he'd cut off speaking to her for a month? Even after he'd spent almost every night of said month relieving his built up sexual frustration with Hyun-Ok? Even after he'd refused to rise to the bait when she'd told him, via Scar, to stop being butthurt over nothing and talk to her?
"Complete bullshit," he muttered, vigorously shampooing.
Whatever the redhead consciously thought of the situation, his dreams were still taunting and bringing back unwanted feelings. They'd been sporadic initially, but for four nights in a row now they'd come sneaking up on him, high blood-alcohol levels or no. Even without being physically present the woman seemed determined to torture him and deny such small comforts as passing out drunk and blissfully blank.
The more he stewed on the subject, the angrier he got. By the time the last bubbles had swept down the drain he was snarling to himself.
"This is fucked up. I'm just going to go over there, tell her to fuck off to her face, and end this for good."
Feeling pumped by the decision and the peace of mind it would bring, whatever the results, Hwoarang returned to his bedroom. So intent was he on imagining possible scenarios for the upcoming confrontation that he didn't snap even once at Hyun-Ok as she alternately lounged around and vied for his attention for the rest of the early afternoon. He had more important things to think about than the woman who imagined herself to now be queen of his domain.
"She's not here."
Hwoarang glared at the glowering woman through the cracked open door.
"When is she going to be back then, woman?"
"She's not coming back, asshole. Her flight back to the states left this morning. Now kindly fuck off and die."
The door closed in his face with clicking finality, but the redhead stood staring at that plain wooden surface and it's equally plain number plate for several minutes, processing the information.
Back to the states? As in, the United States? She was gone? And Eun had told him to fuck off... wasn't that his line for the day?
Shaking his head and feeling a little taken aback by the abrupt declaration, he headed back downstairs to collect his reacquired bike and the muddle that was currently representing his thoughts.
As he straddled the tangible of the two assets where he'd last seen the woman in his dreams, he let out a cheerless sigh. Not only would he be unable to enjoy the clash he'd been anticipating since showering today; now he'd be unable to ever track the woman down and speak his piece.
'This must be that resolution crap the psychobabblers are always going on about. How it's important for people to resolve their issues. They might have a point,' he thought bitterly.
If the day continued on at this rate, his night on the town with the gang wasn't going to be much fun. Not with so full a head.
A light rain had started outside, reflecting the mood of the second floor hallway in a tucked away apartment building.
Faith stood in the doorway of her most recent home, looking damp and extremely put out as she waited for her bubbly friend to answer her knocking. When said door finally opened, the blonde occupant grinned from ear to ear at the would-be traveler.
"They canceled the flight. Apparently there will no direct flights to the United States until the airline officials decide it's safe enough fly without the chance of getting shot down. So I was wondering if I could have my room back until I figure out a way to flight hop home."
"Honey, you already are home!... Now let's celebrate!"
Faith failed to share in her companion's sheer exuberance, but cracked a smile nonetheless. She set her luggage down and listened warily to the stream of excited chatter about what possibilities the night now held. Personally, she just wanted to start finding connecting flights to New York and book them, but the chances of that happening were growing slimmer with every moment that passed with Eun's own growingly devious plans. Expecting the worst, she sat down to wait for the final verdict.
"Come on, man! We haven't had a night out with the whole gang in forever! The least you could do is look like you're enjoying it! I mean, booze and hot chicks! What's not to smile about?!"
Hwoarang grinned crookedly at the man, a longtime party buddy who'd suddenly popped up on the barstool next to him, but the expression only lasted long enough for the enthusiastic drunk to slap him heartily on the back and stagger back to the dance floor. As soon as he was sure his comrade was once again enthralled by the throbbing music and bouncing females, the leader's expression sobered.
Turning back to the bar, he slouched forward and sipped his drink, barely tasting the potent liquor as it sustained his buzz. Normally he'd be as hammered as his friends at this point, the club was their fourth and final destination for the night, but he hadn't been able to muster up the enthusiasm to get plastered. Carefree drunkenness just didn't sound like as much fun as it usually did.
It was this uncharacteristic restraint that had caught his companions' attention and had them harassing him at any given opportunity. They'd seen him in a bad mood before, and had learned to stay out of the way during such times, but found it hard to believe that the Blood Talon was refusing both beautiful women and the free drinks they sent his way. It was unheard of. By all the usual standards, he was being a stick-in-the-mud.
In response to this, most of the guys had either joked with him about turning into a pansy or pointed out the most attractive women in hopes of loosening him up and luring him away from his barstool. Despite such efforts, only the girls of the gang had been able to pull him away for a few dances. Several times he snubbed Hyun-Ok in favor of the twins, a burn that didn't go unnoticed and which spurred the vixen to attach to someone more receptive to her advances. Scar merely kept to the bar watching it all and giving his friend a knowing look.
"You're not fooling me," the aged gangster chortled when Hwoarang finally escaped from the mass of dancing clubbers.
"I don't have anything to fool anyone about, Scar. So yeah, I'm not."
"Ah... You mean except for the fact that you're moping around 'cause your alley cat skipped town?"
Hwoarang froze midway through grabbing his drink.
"What?"
Scar simply smiled in his lopsided way.
"How... How the fuck did you know?"
To that, the marred man took out his cell phone and gave it a tap. "She told me."
"Why the hell would she tell you? And why the hell didn't you tell me?!"
"Up until this point you've given me the impression that you didn't give a shit about what was going on with her, so I didn't bother. You already made it clear you don't want to talk to her..."
"I do now! I wanted to have a chance to tell her to-"
"Well it looks like you might have a chance," Scar interrupted, frowning at something past the redhead's shoulder.
Confused, Hwoarang turned around to see what his friend was talking about. His confusion only deepened.
The woman approaching the far end of the bar looked like Faith... if he'd entered an alternative universe. Not only was she here, instead of thousands of miles away, but she was actually dressed for a night out, which was a far cry from the simple jeans-tee shirt combo he was used to seeing. A teal off the shoulder top, a black skirt that fell to mid-thigh, knee high boots, and hair pulled halfway back but otherwise falling in tousled waves was her simple but dressed up look.
"Looks like they've been here awhile," Scar noted. Ever observant, and feeling far less shocked than his friend, he noticed the flushed cheeks and sheen of sweat before the change in appearance.
"Ah... What?"
"Faith and her friend. It looks like they've been dancing here awhile. Although what the hell they're doing here when Faith is supposed to have been long gone by now is a mystery."
"Yeah... a mystery..." Hwoarang, catching Scar's use of the word 'them', just then caught sight Eun trailing behind her friend and staring wistfully back at the crowded dance floor.
She didn't hold his attention for long, however. That was now reserved for the woman who now sat at the opposite end of the long bar.
Oblivious to being watched, Faith was relieved to finally be able to sit down and give her poor feet a rest. Dancing had never been her thing, but Eun had begged so pathetically that she'd agreed, but only on the condition that she got to have a few drinks first. That had been three hours ago, and she was regretting listening to her club-hopper friend instead of just spending a quiet night at home.
"Come ooooon, Faith. Finish that quick and let's get back to the fun!"
"Your definition of fun is a lot different than mine, Eun," she replied, taking a gulp of the mixed drink the bartender had just brought.
The blonde woman scoffed, readjusting her low cut top, "That's because old hermit nuns don't have a definition for fun. They just sit at home being boring."
Growling under her breath, Faith tossed her head back and finished the soju and soda mix in one go.
"Ooooh! That's gonna hit hard in a little bit!"
Slamming down the glass, Faith turned her narrowed stare to the gleeful woman.
"Shut up, Eun. You wanna dance? Let's go."
Without another word, the pair headed back to the mob of dancers, weaving their way through until they were tucked away somewhere in the middle. Completely surrounded, the anonymity of being just another body in the sea of movement was the only reason Faith agreed to go out. No one person could be picked out unless someone was intentionally searching, and no one could see that she was just mimicking the the general moves of others and pretending to know what she was doing. So far it had been working.
Even so, her tactics faltered when that last drink caught up with her like a blow to the head. Feeling suddenly off-kilter she started to tumble forward, but found herself caught and lifted by the shoulders. Staring at the well muscled arms responsible, she ruled out her delicately structured friend as her savior.
"Hey, thank...s..."
Skittering back in surprise upon seeing whose arms held her, she lost her balance yet again, only to be the caught by the same person she was trying to move away from.
"You're pathetic sometimes, you know that?" Hwoarang muttered, hoisting her back up.
"You... but how.... Are you stalking me?!"
The question came out shrilly, but barely got a reaction out of the zoned out dancers around them. If anything, their stillness caused more of an interruption than the terrified sounding accusation. Not even Eun, who had found a lanky but handsome partner, seemed to notice.
Hwoarang rolled his eyes, wondering just how many drinks she'd had to elicit such an obnoxious reaction.
"No, I'm not stalking you. I was told that you'd left and then saw you here tonight. I had to see if it was really you or just a look alike with more fashion sense."
"Well it's me. Now what?" she mumbled, glaring at him for insulting her ability to dress herself.
"Now," he spun her around without warning, pressing her back against his chest, "you dance with me."
She shivered as the words blew softly into her ear, the breath they rode on heating the sensitive skin along her neck.
Not waiting for a reply, he slid his hands to her waist and began to sway her as a new song began. The tempo began slow, as did Faith's willingness to move in time with the man behind her. Her reluctance faded quickly, however, as the gentle but persistent pressure continued to control the rhythm of her hips. In no time she was dancing of her own free will, the fingertips that brushed along her sides as teasing as the not-quite-touching presence of the rest of his body.
Frustrated by this, and buzzed enough to forget former inhibitions, she deliberately took a step back and molded herself to him, her hands reaching back to hook her thumbs in his belt loops to hold him there.
Surprised, and more than a little pleased, Hwoarang leaned forward to hide his smirk in her hair. This was definitely not how he had imagined interacting with her today. Or ever, for that matter. A slightly drunk Faith was obviously susceptible to the urges of the any other woman.
"Do you always get this frisky when you're tipsy?" he chortled into her ear, barely loud enough to hear over the music.
She turned her head to smile up at him. "No."
"Just when you feel like being a heartless tease."
Her smile faltered and her dancing slowed as she turned to face him fully.
"No. Never really tried to be a tease. And the one time I did... well.... if we hadn't been interrupted in the dojo... I wouldn't of pushed you away. Not really what a real tease would do."
Hwoarang was startled by the confession, but recovered quickly.
Pulling her close, he murmured huskily, "Come home with me then. Tonight. Right now."
Faith couldn't quite believe the urgency she detected in his voice, and attributed it to her fuzzy senses. Even more unbelievable, if she'd been completely sober, was what popped out of her mouth without hesitation:
"Cab?"
"Someone's gettin' laid tonight!" Eun whooped, practically cheering as she watched her friend disappear with her redheaded loverboy.
"I hope so," came a masculine voice from beside her.
Smiling coquettishly, she wrapped her arms around the tall man who'd spoken.
"Buy me another drink and we'll see what happens. My apartment's gonna be empty tonight," she added with a wink.
"He really told her off," Scar laughed to himself, watching the pair rush in a slightly stumbling manner for the door.
Shaking his head, but grinning from ear to ear, he ordered another beer and wondered who he'd have to haul from the club when closing time came.
God this took forever to write. I hate writers block. And I'm sick of reading this chapter, so if you find any errors, I'd be much obliged if you pointed them out for me.