Author's Note: This is a sort of late Christmas present for Kiren, my source of gorgeous piccage and the only one close enough to maintain proper correspondence with. I wrote this at one in the morning so it's a shortfic, fluffy and has conclusion. The boys were due in for a happy fic. I think a certain someone else (if she reads this) might pick up various references and notice that I sort of borrowed her Hwoarang. Sorry, couldn't resist.
DISCLAIMER: Characters of Tekken aren't mine and as much as I love them, I think they're safer belonging to NAMCO.
More Than Words
Hwoarang's hand stilled, the contents of his coffee melding in murky clouds of white and mahogany when he tapped the teaspoon on the mug's rim, wondering why the music had suddenly stopped. He had threatened much pain and dismemberment to any who dared touch the stereo, or even the remote.
It had to be Steve.
Muttering darkly under his breath, Hwoarang took his drink, forgot the others he had offered to make and stalked to the door adjoining the dining room to the lounge. He had enough mind to take care and not spill his coffee on the pale carpet (Jin would be less than pleased); roughly shoving the door open, the insult died on his lips and he stopped mid-step at the scene before him.
The sweet notes gracing the late summer breeze basked in a warm glow cast by the setting sun and the entire room was illuminated in a soft golden hue. Sitting on the edge of the couch was Jin, Hwoarang's acoustic guitar in his arms as he played a familiar tune, sang softly enough that his words seemed almost a lullaby. With his head bowed slightly he missed the wide smile that crossed Xiaoyu's face while she watched him from her perch on the armrest on the opposite couch. Hwoarang thought that her smile had an odd quality to it: adoring, though sad. Or maybe it was just the light in the room.
His gaze shifting, he found Steve leaning on the wall by the sound system's main unit. Hwoarang's suspicions were confirmed, but even he found himself favouring Jin's music to the hard metal that had been blasting only moments before. Steve's arms were crossed tightly over his front and he too wore a strange expression. His thick brows were gently knitted into the barest frown and he watched Jin with as much intent as Xiaoyu.
"That was pretty good," Steve commented, and Hwoarang then realised that Jin had ended his song but still cradled the guitar. The dark-haired man smiled at him for a short moment before returning his attention to the coffee table before him.
"'Pretty good'?" Xiaoyu echoed in dismay. "Jin, that was beautiful! Why didn't you tell us before that you could play…? And sing, even!"
Jin's skin held the slightest blush; he raised a shoulder and shrugged. "It wasn't really worth mention, I don't play often."
"You should!" she insisted.
"Where did you learn?" Steve asked then, taking the seat beside her.
"This is actually the only song I know." Jin's lips lifted again in a smile of fond recall. "Hwoarang played this for me on my last birthday and then taught it to me."
Xiaoyu tilted her head to one side, her eyes softening but Steve laughed.
"I had no idea Hwoarang even played this sort of music. I'd expect him to be one breaking strings like half the stuff he listens to," the blond said.
"No, he plays a lot and in wide variety," Jin said softly.
Xiaoyu pouted playfully. "Ooh, that's not fair. If I wasn't taken, I'd be on you in a second!"
Steve looked at her in surprise. "You're taken?"
Xiaoyu beamed and nothing more needed be said. Hwoarang took that as his cue and straightened, noticing then that he had been leaning quite comfortably against the doorframe.
"Jin's taken too, in case you've forgotten, Xiaoyu." Hwoarang smirked when Steve only raised an eyebrow, all too familiar with the Korean's occasional tendency to flaunt said fact. Xiaoyu held a hand to her heart and sighed dramatically as Jin turned and greeted him with a wide smile.
"Hey," Hwoarang returned the smile and leaned down for a brief kiss before going round the couch to sit beside him.
Xiaoyu pointed at their extended collection of CDs arrayed along the walls. "Can I take a look?"
Hwoarang waved her away. "Be my guest."
Jin set the guitar aside and snaked an arm behind Hwoarang. The redhead took the invitation, settling against Jin's solid warmth as he sipped from his drink. The arm settled across his stomach, soft lips pressed to his hair and Steve eyed Hwoarang critically.
"Yo, where are our drinks?" Steve asked suddenly.
"On the bench, wench," Hwoarang retorted.
Steve smiled, shook his head and started to rise but Hwoarang beat him to his feet, quickly putting his steaming mug on the table.
"Or they will be in five minutes," Hwoarang corrected.
Jin chuckled and leaned back as his boyfriend disappeared back through the door. Steve stared after him as if in hesitation.
"What is it?" Jin prompted.
"Wow, can I put this on?" Xiaoyu asked, holding up a CD.
Steve's hand found his hip and he frowned a little. "Just think… I'll follow." He did so and called over his shoulder, "just in case he poisons my drink."
When he entered the kitchen he found Hwoarang already pouring coffee from the plunger into two mugs. The redhead looked up as he came closer to inspect.
"Moron. I heard that." Hwoarang poked his tongue out at the boxer who simply laughed.
"Forgive my loose tongue," the blond drawled. "I know better than that: if you were going to, you'd at least wait until Jin was out of the house."
A smirk. "Exactly."
Several seconds passed in comfortable silence as Steve watched Hwoarang complete the task and handed him his drink.
"Thanks," Steve paused. "Whose is that?"
"Xiaoyu's," Hwoarang replied and started back.
"What about Jin?"
"He doesn't drink coffee; I've yet to convert him." Hwoarang shot back a sly grin. "Still working on it."
Steve smiled back and then said something neither of them had expected. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be able to turn someone and just say 'I love you'? I mean, really… have you thought about it?"
Hwoarang blinked in surprise, but the smile slowly returned. "Actually, yeah. And yes, I do realise." He winked at his friend. "Don't worry, I'm not taking any o'this for granted."
"Good," Steve said sternly, though with a smile. He settled back into his seat as Hwoarang handed Xiaoyu her drink.
"You didn't put any sugar in, did you?" She looked into her drink as though the answer lay hidden there.
Hwoarang patted her head. "As per my lady's command."
"Thank you!" Her grin was infectious and Hwoarang couldn't help but return it, and patted her head. He then looked at Jin who kneeled beside her before one of the tall CD racks.
"Yours is coming. Did you want ginseng or green?"
"Green will be fine, thank you," Jin replied, his attention was quickly stolen when Xiaoyu asked him about another CD in her free hand. Hwoarang turned back for a second round with the kitchen, musing silently over how his notoriety in said venue had momentarily been forgotten. Then again, he wasn't that bad and it wasn't like he had ever blown anything up. Burned, enflamed, yes, but that was another story.
He had just been pouring hot water in a small teapot when he sensed an approaching presence. He sighed inwardly. What was with all the constant surveillance?
"No, Steve, there is no poison - "
A pair of strong arms weaved around his waist from behind and he stopped abruptly.
"That drink of yours is bitter enough without it," Jin murmured against his ear, nuzzling gently.
Oh. "Try straight black sometime if you want to know bitterness."
"Hardly the way to persuade a man to take the poison, is it?"
Hwoarang felt Jin smile against the skin of his neck even as he busied with the tea. "Coffee's an acquired taste. You're one of the few office freaks I know who don't drink it."
The arms hugged him closer. "Mm. Tea."
"I need to get you a mug first, idiot. You have to let go," Hwoarang pointed out, motioning to the far cupboard.
"You can move," Jin protested, loosening his hold but not releasing and Hwoarang nearly rolled his eyes. He wasn't complaining, really, and it was pretty cute but if Jin wanted his goddamn tea… !
"Here." Hwoarang held up a mug for Jin to take but Jin leaned his chin on Hwoarang's shoulder and held on to his waist.
"You pour it for me."
Again, the Korean was a little confused but complied nonetheless. It wasn't as though it took a great deal of effort. From the open door wafted calm jazz tunes, a lulling piano that was sweet and deceivingly gentle came accompanied by a husky beat and smooth bass.
Hwoarang had poured the drink, but Jin wasn't taking it. Instead, Jin tucked his head at the juncture where neck met shoulder and kissed the bare skin. Hwoarang admitted defeat and let his head fall back on Jin's shoulder. His hands covered those resting on his abdomen; their fingers entwined. Soon Hwoarang found himself gently swaying in the comfort of Jin's embrace; he closed his eyes in contentment.
"Would you play for me?" he asked quietly.
"Play what, love?" Jin murmured, pressing his cheek to Hwoarang's temple.
"The song. The one you played for them."
"… But you've heard it plenty and play it beautifully yourself."
"So?" Hwoarang turned his head so that his forehead rested against Jin's ear and the long, dark fringe strayed to tickle the bridge of his nose. "All musicians are different and I like the way you play."
Jin closed the scarce distance between them and claimed Hwoarang's lips in a lingering kiss. Still they swayed interlocked and only stopped when they drew apart. Hwoarang turned to properly embrace his lover.
"Is that a 'yes'?" Hwoarang asked, one hand sliding over Jin's back came to a rest on his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist.
"Of course," Jin said without hesitation. "I could never refuse you anything."
The smile returned to grace Hwoarang's lips and it was mirrored on Jin's face. Jin held him close as Hwoarang rested his head against Jin's shoulder and silently, they continued their dance.
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