KPop: Three-Point Shot (Tao/Kris, R)
Sep. 4th, 2012 02:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maayacolabackupTitle: Three-Point Shot
Pairing: Kris/Zitao
Rating: R
Summary: Zitao’s mother encourages him to join the school basketball team. Zitao’s more interested in joining the team captain in the showers. [AU, 4k]
Notes: this was the first pinch I wrote for runandgun, but then I read the DNWs more closely and it said she wasn’t a big fan of fluff. THIS is shameless fluff. It is a story in which nothing much particularly happens but a lot of blushing and kris-admiration, and it is a school au, and it is only complete because![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hyperlydian said ‘so mote it be’.
“I just think you’d make more friends if you played a sport,” Zitao’s mother says, fussing with his hair, and Zitao smiles at her gently, patting her hand even as he pushes it away. “And you’re so athletic.”
“I have friends,” Zitao says, checking his tie in the mirror. It’s perfectly straight; he’d checked it earlier when he was getting ready, and again before he’d come downstairs. “I’ve got Sehun and Jongin. And I do wushu. Wushu is way cooler than football, or handball, or basketball.”
“Yes, but now you’re starting at a new school,” his mother says, and he shakes her hair out of her eyes as she finishes setting out the side dishes for breakfast. “And now you’re back here in China, where you can’t hang out with those delinquents.”
Zitao thinks calling Sehun and Jongin delinquents is really taking things a bit far. They just don’t really like to go to class; they spend most of their time on the school roof smoking cigarettes Sehun’s bummed off of Park Chanyeol’s hot older sister, talking about hipster things like Jongin isn’t going to go to private ballet school after class and like Sehun’s loafers aren’t designer.
Zitao likes them because even if Sehun has problems looking excited and Jongin can’t seem to decide if he’s arrogant or shy, both of them are really nice guys that made sure Zitao didn’t feel lost or alone in Korea, despite the language barrier.
“Well, at least this time I’ll actually be able to speak to my classmates,” Zitao says, grabbing his bag. “See you after school.”
“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast?” His mother calls after him, but the question is cut off by the closing front door, and Zitao doesn’t bother to run back and answer. It feels like a very Sehun thing to do. Zitao smiles.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and he’s got two new emails—both from Jongin.
Try not to get caught taking pics of yourself in the bathroom on the first day of class, the first one reads, and Zitao rolls his eyes because he never gets caught. The second one seems more like an addendum: Especially not naked ones.
Zitao smiles at his phone, before slipping it back into his pocket. Zitao had been worried on his first day of school in Korea, too, but he’d made great friends, and this won’t be any different.
Zitao isn’t planning on joining any sports teams.
“All right,” he says to himself, as he approaches the front gate. “You’ve got this.”
*
Zitao is assigned a helpful guide by the name of Lu Han by the administator. “It’s nice to meet you, Huang Zitao,” Lu Han says. “And welcome back to China.”
“I guess,” Zitao says, and thinks about how nice it would be to still be sitting on the rooftop between Sehun and Jongin, legs swinging against the bricks as Sehun threatens to push both of them off. But Lu Han seems nice, if a little spacey, and Zitao likes people, so he smiles back at Lu Han. “But I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”
“You will,” Lu Han enthuses. “Do you like ball sports?”
“Not at all,” Zitao says. “I’m into martial arts though.”
“That’s cool,” Lu Han says, before he makes a fish face across the hallway at another spacey looking guy with an awkward asymmetrical haircut and an exaggerated dimple. “Too bad, though, since you’re so tall and we just lost a player from our basketball team.”
“Mm,” Zitao says, noncommittal, and Lu Han sighs. He runs a hand through his hair.
“This is our classroom,” Lu Han says, after he’s shown Zitao around all the major facilities.
“You’re in my class?” Zitao asks, and Lu Han raises both eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Lu Han says. “You thought I was a first-year, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” Zitao admits, and Lu Han laughs at him
Lu Han leaves him at the door, finding his own seat in the front of the classroom, with promises to take him at the end of the day to show him the extracurricular club rooms, and Zitao is left to the mercy of thirty screaming classmates and a harried looking homeroom teacher as he introduces himself like a good transfer student always does in those Korean dramas Kyungsoo had liked.
The kid next to Zitao, in the back of the classroom where Zitao figures all the transfers sit, is named Kim Jongdae. Zitao supposes it’s fitting that he moves back to China and he’s still stuck speaking Korean.
Jongdae’s nice, and catches Zitao up on everything the class has been doing. It all seems, fortunately, very similar to what he was doing in Korea, before his dad’s job had up and moved them here with no warning.
Zitao does his best not to fall asleep. He’s about forty percent successful. Jongdae helpfully kicks Zitao’s chair whenever Zitao starts to snore, pushing his round, black-framed glasses up and clearing his throat to hide the noise of his school shoes hitting the wood of Zitao’s chair. Zitao offers him a sleepy grin in thanks, and Jongdae smiles back.
Zitao doesn’t have to join sports teams to make friends, he thinks smugly, before he falls asleep again.
True to his word, Lu Han is waiting outside the door of the classroom when Zitao slides it open to leave.
“You survived,” Lu Han teases, and Zitao grins.
“Barely,” Zitao says. “I thought I was going to actually fall asleep for all eternity.”
“Don’t worry,” Lu Han’s friend, the one from earlier with the dimple, says. “We all experienced that.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Yixing, by the way. And this guy,” he points to the shorter boy next to him, “is Minseok.”
“Minseok’s on the basketball team,” Lu Han says, and he looks over at Minseok and flutters his eyelashes.
“Lu Han says you’re not going to try out,” Minseok says, Mandarin a little strange but perfectly intelligible. “That’s too bad.”
“I’m not really into organized sports like that,” Zitao says, and then he stops breathing.
He stops breathing because the person that is walking down the hallway towards them is actually so much Zitao’s type that Zitao finds it impossible to force air into his lungs.
“Your mouth is hanging open,” Yixing says, and then the guy stops in front of them, and Zitao remembers to close his mouth. “Hey, Duizhang, meet Zitao. Zitao, this is Kris.”
“Hello,” Kris says, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Zitao.”
“Likewise,” Zitao says, and no, no, he is not blushing, because that would be completely unacceptable and Zitao is already eighteen, which is way too old for his heart to start beating like he’s thirteen with his first boner. “Duizhang?”
“I’m the captain of the basketball team. The guys gave me the nickname Duizhang because I’m, you know, the leader.” Kris shrugs, and his bleach-blonde hair falls into his eyes. He pushes it back with one massive hand, and Zitao wonders what those hands would look like—“Are you going to try out for the team? You’re tall, and you look athletic, too.”
“Martial arts,” Zitao says. “And I’m still thinking about it.”
Lu Han hisses ’thinking about it’ amusedly under his breath, and if it were Jongin being that embarrassing, Zitao would have kicked him already.
“You should,” Kris says, straightening his tie and grinning at Zitao. When he smiles, Zitao thinks, Kris’s whole face changes. “We could really use you.”
And then Kris is gone, and Zitao is left watching him walk away with a squirming stomach and an unfortunate crush.
“What did you think of Duizhang, then?” Minseok says, chuckling and patting Zitao’s arm gently. Zitao sighs.
“I think,” Zitao says, faintly, as Lu Han waves his hand in front of Zitao’s face like that will somehow drag Zitao’s attention away from the retreating back of the captain of the basketball team, “I’m going to try out for basketball.”
“Oh, really?” Yixing says, and Minseok snorts. “How…surprising.”
*
Zitao is the only person trying out for the basketball team, it turns out. “Just me? Really?”
“A lot of people are intimidated by Duizhang,” Minseok says. “I think it’s the jaw-line.”
“I’m not actually that good at basketball,” Zitao says. “I mean, I’m not terrible, but-“
“With a bit of practice,” a low voice cuts in, and Zitao turns to see Kris staring at him, face impassive, “you’ll be good enough.”
“Encouraging, Duizhang,” Minseok says. “He must be brimming with confidence at the hope that he’ll be ‘good enough’.”
“I meant that we’re a team,” Kris says, the expression on his face transforming to something that’s almost wry. “We pick up each other’s slack, and we’re strong.”
Minseok pats Kris gingerly on the shoulder before going over to the rest of the team to join the passing drills. “I’m not terrible,” Zitao says. “Just maybe not high school star material.”
Kris smiles, and Zitao’s palms feel to sweaty for Kris to be handing him a basketball right now. “Let’s see what you’ve got, new guy.”
*
“You’re home late,” Zitao’s mother says, and Zitao sighs.
“I’m tried out for the basketball team,” Zitao says, and she give him a hug, wrapping her arms around his middle because he’s too tall for her to reach any higher.
“I’m so proud of you,” she says, and Zitao wonders if she’d still be proud of him if she knew he was trying out for the team for the sheer visual pleasure of watching the captain play.
Did you have an interesting first day? Sehun’s email says, and Zitao considers.
Possibly. Will get back to you on how things turn out.
*
Zitao’s second day at basketball practice highlights, Kris says, areas where Zitao could use some improvement.
Kris stands behind him, chest hot against Zitao’s back, as he guides Zitao’s hands up into the appropriate position to shoot. Zitao’s not sure it’s entirely necessary, the way he drags his big hands down Zitao’s arms after he’s tilted his wrists, but Zitao’s not complaining.
He turns to thank Kris, expecting Kris to be looking at the ball, or the net, but instead he’s looking straight at Zitao. His fingers are still resting on Zitao’s shoulders, and his face is scarily intense.
Kris seems to realize he’s still standing close, and his arms drop to his sides. “You make the team,” Kris says, and Zitao wants to remind him that there is no one else even trying out.
Minseok comes up to him in the locker room with a big smile. “Congrats, teammate.”
“Thanks,” Zitao says. “Heading home?”
If Minseok leaves, it’ll be just Kris and Zitao in the locker room. Zitao is probably okay with that.
“Yep,” Minseok says. “See you tomorrow.”
Kris is unlacing his sneakers behind him. Zitao doesn’t turn around, in case Kris has done something unbearable like take off his shirt. The last thing Zitao needs right now is to make a fool of himself.
They change in silence, and as Zitao fixes his tie, he notices that Kris is finished, and just waiting for him. He can feel Kris’s eyes on his back, staring at him, and awareness of that heavy gaze sweeps down his spine.
“Ready to go?” Kris asks, and Zitao nods, not trusting his voice not to crack. Kris is leaning back against the lockers, and he looks like something straight out of Jongin’s gay porn comics.
Not that Zitao had read any of those, of course, but they’d been around, he admits to having snuck a peek or two.
“You should treat me to ice cream,” Zitao says, finding his voice. “Since I made the team.”
Kris’s mouth lifts at the corner in amusement. “All right,” Kris agrees, and Zitao smiles triumphantly at his own very good idea.
*
Zitao bites his lower lip as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking slow. He imagines how Kris had looked, ice cream on his lips as he laughed, small tongue licking at the corners as Zitao had tried his best not to drop his.
“So the ice cream might have been a bad idea,” Zitao thinks to himself as his thumb rolls around the head of his cock, and he bites down on his lower lip to stifle the sound of his moans.
He speeds up, hand slicker now, and as he pulls at himself he thinks about the slow slip of Kris’s hands down his arms and those fingers on his shoulders and the way his bleached hair falls into his eyes. It’s not long before he’s spilling into his hand, thighs tight and gut twisted.
*
Zitao can’t meet Kris’s eyes at practice the next day. He misses most of his shots, and mumbles something about a headache to Zhou Mi, one of the guys on the team, when he asks what’s got Zitao off his game. Zhou Mi nods understandingly, and Zitao tries to focus on things that are not his hormones for the remaining hour of practice.
He hurries out of the locker room, rushing through his shower, flushing when he thinks he hears Kris trying to catch his attention. He pretends he can’t hear him and follows Minseok out into the hallway. Lu Han is waiting for Minseok, cheerful smile on his face. Yixing’s there, too, bag of potato snacks in his hand, munching on them steadily as he eyes Zitao’s flustered appearance.
“Granted, it’s only been three days, but that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen you change,” Minseok says. “You didn’t even take pictures of yourself with your iPhone in the mirror today.” Yixing chokes on a piece of potato, and Zitao glares.
“I’ve got to go home early today,” Zitao says.
“Why?” Lu Han asks, leaning toward Yixing to pat his back as he clears his throat of obstruction.
“My sanity,” Zitao mumbles, and then just smiles and shakes his head when Lu Han looks at him curiously.
He starts walking home, hands jammed in his pocket, earphones in to block out the sounds of traffic.
He jolts, suddenly, when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. He yanks his earphones out and spins around. It’s Kris, looking a little out of breath, thick eyebrows furrowed together.
“Duizhang,” Zitao says. “You surprised me.” Zitao feels that familiar tingle in his stomach as Kris stares at him.
“Did I… do something to make you upset?” Kris asks, and Zitao’s eyes widen. He tries to school his face into nonchalance, but Sehun’s always told him his face is an open book.
“No,” Zitao says. “I’m just having a rough day.” Zitao exasperatedly pushes his hair out of his face, eyes fixing on the dumpling shop across the street instead of on Kris’s face. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Kris’s hand is still on his shoulder. Zitao is finding words, in general, quite difficult. “I was… worried,” Kris says, and Zitao gulps and turns to look at Kris, who’s looking a bit nervous, himself. “Because I’m the captain, you know?”
“Of course,” Zitao says. Kris finally takes his hand away, and Zitao’s shoulder feels cold, even though it’s incredibly hot outside.
“Well, I’ll let you go,” Kris says. “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t-“ He stops, and shrugs. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”
“Yeah,” Zitao says. “You ran after me just to make sure I-“ Zitao starts to ask, but then he slams his mouth shut. “See you tomorrow, Duizhang,” he says instead. As he starts walking away, he shoves his earphones back in and turns the volume up enough that he can’t hear how fast his heart is beating.
*
“How’s managing your obvious crush going?” Jongdae asks, voice low, during break time. “Any developments?”
“It just keeps getting worse,” Zitao says. “I’ve only been here four days and I feel like I’m going to die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Jongdae says. “You might do something humiliating though.” He taps his finger on his chin as he ponders. “Like getting in the wrong shower, or something.”
“You’re such a help,” Zitao says. “Really.”
“I try,” Jongdae says, pushing his glasses up again. “I really do.”
*
Even in China I found a sarcastic friend to talk to me in Korean, Zitao types to Jongin, and Jongin sends back a long line of ‘k’s in roman letters before he sends an actual response.
Anything else interesting?
Zitao wonders if he’s actually ready to talk about the basketball captain and his extremely obvious and mortifying crush, but decides Jongdae’s laughter has been enough for the day. I’ll keep you updated, he types instead, and sets his phone down on the table so he can tackle his mathematics homework.
*
It’s Friday, and before practice starts, Kris signals that they need to talk. “Are you busy, after practice today?” Kris asks, and Zitao’s tongue feels like it’s made of lead.
“Why?” Zitao asks, looking up at Kris through his hair, and Kris seems momentarily caught off guard, his gaze sliding down to Zitao’s mouth before back up into his eyes.
“To review some basic team things,” Kris says, after a few awkward seconds, straightening his loose pink tank shirt like they’re about to take pictures, not play basketball. “Plays we use a lot. Things like that.”
“Sure,” Zitao says, wondering what he’d thought Kris might mean. “That’s fine.”
Zitao stays late, running drills with Kris as Kris goes through some of the common passes they do during games. Zitao tries to pay attention, he really does, but the sweat on Kris’s face is distracting. A single bead is crawling slowly down Kris’s neck. Zitao’s been watching it since it had started making its way down that firm jaw, and now, as it’s about to disappear into the neckline of Kris’s pink tank top, Zitao’s throat feels very dry, and basketball is the last thing on his mind.
“Well, I think we’re done for today,” Kris says. “You’re not even listening anymore.”
Kris doesn’t seem upset; just amused, and Zitao likes how much more approachable Kris looks when he smiles that gummy smile. “Yes,” Zitao says. “I must be tired.”
“Hmm,” Kris says, and there’s a bit of knowing in his eyes that makes Zitao’s stomach flop uncomfortably. “Tired?”
“Yes,” Zitao says. “Sorry, Duizhang.”
Kris bounces the ball a few more times, aimlessly, and then takes a shot from the three-point line. The ball swooshes through the net, and Kris smirks, looking back at Zitao and winking. “Let’s go wash up, then,” Kris says, and Zitao nods, letting Kris go first as he takes his time gathering his things. It’s almost five minutes later that Zitao is entering the locker room, dropping his towel on the bench and stripping down.
He absentmindedly checks his email—no new messages—and sets his phone down too.
Zitao is thinking about the way Kris’s arms had looked in that tank top. Perhaps that’s why, Zitao thinks, he’s somehow managed to walk into the only occupied shower.
Kris looks at him in shock, hot water falling in rivulets down his broad chest, and Zitao follows the path of the water down, down, down, before he realizes, suddenly, what he’s doing, and he covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry!”
Zitao is pretty sure that this is all Jongdae’s fault; Jongdae had jinxed him, and now Zitao is going to drown in his own mortification. Even as he feels himself flush from embarrassment, he can see the lean line of Kris’s thighs emblazoned on the forefront of his mind, and he can feel himself getting hard. This could not be worse.
He takes step backwards, and trips, but Kris’s arm snakes out to catch him by the forearm, pulling Zitao up straight. Kris overcompensates, and Zitao stumbles forward, hands landing on Kris’s shoulders.
Now Zitao is under the water, too, with Kris’s wet, silky skin beneath his palms, and yes, Zitao thinks, it could be worse, is worse. “Oh my… I’m so sorry,” Zitao babbles, staring at the drain like it has all the answers, and then Kris’s hands settle on his hips.
Zitao looks up in surprise, and Kris is smirking down at him, clearly entertained; either by his effect on Zitao or this entire situation. Good, Zitao thinks. At least if he’s entertained, Zitao hasn’t completely ruined everything. “I’m not,” Kris says. “Sorry, I mean.”
It takes a minute for the words to sink in, and when they do, Zitao is left gaping at Kris for approximately how long it takes the shot-clock to run out before Kris is claiming his mouth, pressing him against the tile and slipping his thigh between, and rub against Zitao in delicious ways.
Zitao wonders if that ice cream trip can count as a first date, because while he doesn’t usually put out on the first date, he definitely puts out on the second.
“I don’t know if I can have someone this distracting on my team,” Kris says. “You’ve been driving me crazy.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Zitao says, before he slides fingers up into Kris’s wet hair and drags his mouth back to his own, biting too hard on Kris’s lower lip as Kris reaches between them to grab both their cocks in his massive, basketball-player hands, stroking up and down quickly.
“We’ve probably got fifteen minutes untll the cleaning staff shows up,” Kris says, and Zitao can barely hear him over the sound of the water.
“We’d better make the most of it,” Zitao says, bucking up into Kris’s hand and enjoying the way they slide together. “Faster.”
“I knew you were going to be demanding,” Kris says, and Zitao laughs, sputtering as water gets into his eyes and his mouth.
“I’m glad,” Zitao hisses, and Kris’s thumb brushes across his slit, pushing back the foreskin, “I joined the team.”
“Me too,” Kris says. “Otherwise I’d have had to think of some other way to get you into these showers.”
*
Zitao opens up his email on his phone as he’s walking home, feeling simultaneously clean and filthy.
Joined the basketball team, he types in a draft to Sehun and Jongin in his rudimentary Korean. Seems fun.
Sehun writes back first. Is the captain hot?
Zitao smiles, and thinks about Kris’s eyebrows and the way his mouth had felt along the line of Zitao’s neck as he pressed open mouth kisses against the skin. Very, Zitao writes back.
He thinks it’s been a productive first week, and he’s really looking forward to basketball practice tomorrow.
Pairing: Kris/Zitao
Rating: R
Summary: Zitao’s mother encourages him to join the school basketball team. Zitao’s more interested in joining the team captain in the showers. [AU, 4k]
Notes: this was the first pinch I wrote for runandgun, but then I read the DNWs more closely and it said she wasn’t a big fan of fluff. THIS is shameless fluff. It is a story in which nothing much particularly happens but a lot of blushing and kris-admiration, and it is a school au, and it is only complete because
hyperlydian said ‘so mote it be’.“I just think you’d make more friends if you played a sport,” Zitao’s mother says, fussing with his hair, and Zitao smiles at her gently, patting her hand even as he pushes it away. “And you’re so athletic.”
“I have friends,” Zitao says, checking his tie in the mirror. It’s perfectly straight; he’d checked it earlier when he was getting ready, and again before he’d come downstairs. “I’ve got Sehun and Jongin. And I do wushu. Wushu is way cooler than football, or handball, or basketball.”
“Yes, but now you’re starting at a new school,” his mother says, and he shakes her hair out of her eyes as she finishes setting out the side dishes for breakfast. “And now you’re back here in China, where you can’t hang out with those delinquents.”
Zitao thinks calling Sehun and Jongin delinquents is really taking things a bit far. They just don’t really like to go to class; they spend most of their time on the school roof smoking cigarettes Sehun’s bummed off of Park Chanyeol’s hot older sister, talking about hipster things like Jongin isn’t going to go to private ballet school after class and like Sehun’s loafers aren’t designer.
Zitao likes them because even if Sehun has problems looking excited and Jongin can’t seem to decide if he’s arrogant or shy, both of them are really nice guys that made sure Zitao didn’t feel lost or alone in Korea, despite the language barrier.
“Well, at least this time I’ll actually be able to speak to my classmates,” Zitao says, grabbing his bag. “See you after school.”
“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast?” His mother calls after him, but the question is cut off by the closing front door, and Zitao doesn’t bother to run back and answer. It feels like a very Sehun thing to do. Zitao smiles.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and he’s got two new emails—both from Jongin.
Try not to get caught taking pics of yourself in the bathroom on the first day of class, the first one reads, and Zitao rolls his eyes because he never gets caught. The second one seems more like an addendum: Especially not naked ones.
Zitao smiles at his phone, before slipping it back into his pocket. Zitao had been worried on his first day of school in Korea, too, but he’d made great friends, and this won’t be any different.
Zitao isn’t planning on joining any sports teams.
“All right,” he says to himself, as he approaches the front gate. “You’ve got this.”
*
Zitao is assigned a helpful guide by the name of Lu Han by the administator. “It’s nice to meet you, Huang Zitao,” Lu Han says. “And welcome back to China.”
“I guess,” Zitao says, and thinks about how nice it would be to still be sitting on the rooftop between Sehun and Jongin, legs swinging against the bricks as Sehun threatens to push both of them off. But Lu Han seems nice, if a little spacey, and Zitao likes people, so he smiles back at Lu Han. “But I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”
“You will,” Lu Han enthuses. “Do you like ball sports?”
“Not at all,” Zitao says. “I’m into martial arts though.”
“That’s cool,” Lu Han says, before he makes a fish face across the hallway at another spacey looking guy with an awkward asymmetrical haircut and an exaggerated dimple. “Too bad, though, since you’re so tall and we just lost a player from our basketball team.”
“Mm,” Zitao says, noncommittal, and Lu Han sighs. He runs a hand through his hair.
“This is our classroom,” Lu Han says, after he’s shown Zitao around all the major facilities.
“You’re in my class?” Zitao asks, and Lu Han raises both eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Lu Han says. “You thought I was a first-year, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” Zitao admits, and Lu Han laughs at him
Lu Han leaves him at the door, finding his own seat in the front of the classroom, with promises to take him at the end of the day to show him the extracurricular club rooms, and Zitao is left to the mercy of thirty screaming classmates and a harried looking homeroom teacher as he introduces himself like a good transfer student always does in those Korean dramas Kyungsoo had liked.
The kid next to Zitao, in the back of the classroom where Zitao figures all the transfers sit, is named Kim Jongdae. Zitao supposes it’s fitting that he moves back to China and he’s still stuck speaking Korean.
Jongdae’s nice, and catches Zitao up on everything the class has been doing. It all seems, fortunately, very similar to what he was doing in Korea, before his dad’s job had up and moved them here with no warning.
Zitao does his best not to fall asleep. He’s about forty percent successful. Jongdae helpfully kicks Zitao’s chair whenever Zitao starts to snore, pushing his round, black-framed glasses up and clearing his throat to hide the noise of his school shoes hitting the wood of Zitao’s chair. Zitao offers him a sleepy grin in thanks, and Jongdae smiles back.
Zitao doesn’t have to join sports teams to make friends, he thinks smugly, before he falls asleep again.
True to his word, Lu Han is waiting outside the door of the classroom when Zitao slides it open to leave.
“You survived,” Lu Han teases, and Zitao grins.
“Barely,” Zitao says. “I thought I was going to actually fall asleep for all eternity.”
“Don’t worry,” Lu Han’s friend, the one from earlier with the dimple, says. “We all experienced that.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Yixing, by the way. And this guy,” he points to the shorter boy next to him, “is Minseok.”
“Minseok’s on the basketball team,” Lu Han says, and he looks over at Minseok and flutters his eyelashes.
“Lu Han says you’re not going to try out,” Minseok says, Mandarin a little strange but perfectly intelligible. “That’s too bad.”
“I’m not really into organized sports like that,” Zitao says, and then he stops breathing.
He stops breathing because the person that is walking down the hallway towards them is actually so much Zitao’s type that Zitao finds it impossible to force air into his lungs.
“Your mouth is hanging open,” Yixing says, and then the guy stops in front of them, and Zitao remembers to close his mouth. “Hey, Duizhang, meet Zitao. Zitao, this is Kris.”
“Hello,” Kris says, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Zitao.”
“Likewise,” Zitao says, and no, no, he is not blushing, because that would be completely unacceptable and Zitao is already eighteen, which is way too old for his heart to start beating like he’s thirteen with his first boner. “Duizhang?”
“I’m the captain of the basketball team. The guys gave me the nickname Duizhang because I’m, you know, the leader.” Kris shrugs, and his bleach-blonde hair falls into his eyes. He pushes it back with one massive hand, and Zitao wonders what those hands would look like—“Are you going to try out for the team? You’re tall, and you look athletic, too.”
“Martial arts,” Zitao says. “And I’m still thinking about it.”
Lu Han hisses ’thinking about it’ amusedly under his breath, and if it were Jongin being that embarrassing, Zitao would have kicked him already.
“You should,” Kris says, straightening his tie and grinning at Zitao. When he smiles, Zitao thinks, Kris’s whole face changes. “We could really use you.”
And then Kris is gone, and Zitao is left watching him walk away with a squirming stomach and an unfortunate crush.
“What did you think of Duizhang, then?” Minseok says, chuckling and patting Zitao’s arm gently. Zitao sighs.
“I think,” Zitao says, faintly, as Lu Han waves his hand in front of Zitao’s face like that will somehow drag Zitao’s attention away from the retreating back of the captain of the basketball team, “I’m going to try out for basketball.”
“Oh, really?” Yixing says, and Minseok snorts. “How…surprising.”
*
Zitao is the only person trying out for the basketball team, it turns out. “Just me? Really?”
“A lot of people are intimidated by Duizhang,” Minseok says. “I think it’s the jaw-line.”
“I’m not actually that good at basketball,” Zitao says. “I mean, I’m not terrible, but-“
“With a bit of practice,” a low voice cuts in, and Zitao turns to see Kris staring at him, face impassive, “you’ll be good enough.”
“Encouraging, Duizhang,” Minseok says. “He must be brimming with confidence at the hope that he’ll be ‘good enough’.”
“I meant that we’re a team,” Kris says, the expression on his face transforming to something that’s almost wry. “We pick up each other’s slack, and we’re strong.”
Minseok pats Kris gingerly on the shoulder before going over to the rest of the team to join the passing drills. “I’m not terrible,” Zitao says. “Just maybe not high school star material.”
Kris smiles, and Zitao’s palms feel to sweaty for Kris to be handing him a basketball right now. “Let’s see what you’ve got, new guy.”
*
“You’re home late,” Zitao’s mother says, and Zitao sighs.
“I’m tried out for the basketball team,” Zitao says, and she give him a hug, wrapping her arms around his middle because he’s too tall for her to reach any higher.
“I’m so proud of you,” she says, and Zitao wonders if she’d still be proud of him if she knew he was trying out for the team for the sheer visual pleasure of watching the captain play.
Did you have an interesting first day? Sehun’s email says, and Zitao considers.
Possibly. Will get back to you on how things turn out.
*
Zitao’s second day at basketball practice highlights, Kris says, areas where Zitao could use some improvement.
Kris stands behind him, chest hot against Zitao’s back, as he guides Zitao’s hands up into the appropriate position to shoot. Zitao’s not sure it’s entirely necessary, the way he drags his big hands down Zitao’s arms after he’s tilted his wrists, but Zitao’s not complaining.
He turns to thank Kris, expecting Kris to be looking at the ball, or the net, but instead he’s looking straight at Zitao. His fingers are still resting on Zitao’s shoulders, and his face is scarily intense.
Kris seems to realize he’s still standing close, and his arms drop to his sides. “You make the team,” Kris says, and Zitao wants to remind him that there is no one else even trying out.
Minseok comes up to him in the locker room with a big smile. “Congrats, teammate.”
“Thanks,” Zitao says. “Heading home?”
If Minseok leaves, it’ll be just Kris and Zitao in the locker room. Zitao is probably okay with that.
“Yep,” Minseok says. “See you tomorrow.”
Kris is unlacing his sneakers behind him. Zitao doesn’t turn around, in case Kris has done something unbearable like take off his shirt. The last thing Zitao needs right now is to make a fool of himself.
They change in silence, and as Zitao fixes his tie, he notices that Kris is finished, and just waiting for him. He can feel Kris’s eyes on his back, staring at him, and awareness of that heavy gaze sweeps down his spine.
“Ready to go?” Kris asks, and Zitao nods, not trusting his voice not to crack. Kris is leaning back against the lockers, and he looks like something straight out of Jongin’s gay porn comics.
Not that Zitao had read any of those, of course, but they’d been around, he admits to having snuck a peek or two.
“You should treat me to ice cream,” Zitao says, finding his voice. “Since I made the team.”
Kris’s mouth lifts at the corner in amusement. “All right,” Kris agrees, and Zitao smiles triumphantly at his own very good idea.
*
Zitao bites his lower lip as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking slow. He imagines how Kris had looked, ice cream on his lips as he laughed, small tongue licking at the corners as Zitao had tried his best not to drop his.
“So the ice cream might have been a bad idea,” Zitao thinks to himself as his thumb rolls around the head of his cock, and he bites down on his lower lip to stifle the sound of his moans.
He speeds up, hand slicker now, and as he pulls at himself he thinks about the slow slip of Kris’s hands down his arms and those fingers on his shoulders and the way his bleached hair falls into his eyes. It’s not long before he’s spilling into his hand, thighs tight and gut twisted.
*
Zitao can’t meet Kris’s eyes at practice the next day. He misses most of his shots, and mumbles something about a headache to Zhou Mi, one of the guys on the team, when he asks what’s got Zitao off his game. Zhou Mi nods understandingly, and Zitao tries to focus on things that are not his hormones for the remaining hour of practice.
He hurries out of the locker room, rushing through his shower, flushing when he thinks he hears Kris trying to catch his attention. He pretends he can’t hear him and follows Minseok out into the hallway. Lu Han is waiting for Minseok, cheerful smile on his face. Yixing’s there, too, bag of potato snacks in his hand, munching on them steadily as he eyes Zitao’s flustered appearance.
“Granted, it’s only been three days, but that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen you change,” Minseok says. “You didn’t even take pictures of yourself with your iPhone in the mirror today.” Yixing chokes on a piece of potato, and Zitao glares.
“I’ve got to go home early today,” Zitao says.
“Why?” Lu Han asks, leaning toward Yixing to pat his back as he clears his throat of obstruction.
“My sanity,” Zitao mumbles, and then just smiles and shakes his head when Lu Han looks at him curiously.
He starts walking home, hands jammed in his pocket, earphones in to block out the sounds of traffic.
He jolts, suddenly, when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. He yanks his earphones out and spins around. It’s Kris, looking a little out of breath, thick eyebrows furrowed together.
“Duizhang,” Zitao says. “You surprised me.” Zitao feels that familiar tingle in his stomach as Kris stares at him.
“Did I… do something to make you upset?” Kris asks, and Zitao’s eyes widen. He tries to school his face into nonchalance, but Sehun’s always told him his face is an open book.
“No,” Zitao says. “I’m just having a rough day.” Zitao exasperatedly pushes his hair out of his face, eyes fixing on the dumpling shop across the street instead of on Kris’s face. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Kris’s hand is still on his shoulder. Zitao is finding words, in general, quite difficult. “I was… worried,” Kris says, and Zitao gulps and turns to look at Kris, who’s looking a bit nervous, himself. “Because I’m the captain, you know?”
“Of course,” Zitao says. Kris finally takes his hand away, and Zitao’s shoulder feels cold, even though it’s incredibly hot outside.
“Well, I’ll let you go,” Kris says. “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t-“ He stops, and shrugs. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”
“Yeah,” Zitao says. “You ran after me just to make sure I-“ Zitao starts to ask, but then he slams his mouth shut. “See you tomorrow, Duizhang,” he says instead. As he starts walking away, he shoves his earphones back in and turns the volume up enough that he can’t hear how fast his heart is beating.
*
“How’s managing your obvious crush going?” Jongdae asks, voice low, during break time. “Any developments?”
“It just keeps getting worse,” Zitao says. “I’ve only been here four days and I feel like I’m going to die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Jongdae says. “You might do something humiliating though.” He taps his finger on his chin as he ponders. “Like getting in the wrong shower, or something.”
“You’re such a help,” Zitao says. “Really.”
“I try,” Jongdae says, pushing his glasses up again. “I really do.”
*
Even in China I found a sarcastic friend to talk to me in Korean, Zitao types to Jongin, and Jongin sends back a long line of ‘k’s in roman letters before he sends an actual response.
Anything else interesting?
Zitao wonders if he’s actually ready to talk about the basketball captain and his extremely obvious and mortifying crush, but decides Jongdae’s laughter has been enough for the day. I’ll keep you updated, he types instead, and sets his phone down on the table so he can tackle his mathematics homework.
*
It’s Friday, and before practice starts, Kris signals that they need to talk. “Are you busy, after practice today?” Kris asks, and Zitao’s tongue feels like it’s made of lead.
“Why?” Zitao asks, looking up at Kris through his hair, and Kris seems momentarily caught off guard, his gaze sliding down to Zitao’s mouth before back up into his eyes.
“To review some basic team things,” Kris says, after a few awkward seconds, straightening his loose pink tank shirt like they’re about to take pictures, not play basketball. “Plays we use a lot. Things like that.”
“Sure,” Zitao says, wondering what he’d thought Kris might mean. “That’s fine.”
Zitao stays late, running drills with Kris as Kris goes through some of the common passes they do during games. Zitao tries to pay attention, he really does, but the sweat on Kris’s face is distracting. A single bead is crawling slowly down Kris’s neck. Zitao’s been watching it since it had started making its way down that firm jaw, and now, as it’s about to disappear into the neckline of Kris’s pink tank top, Zitao’s throat feels very dry, and basketball is the last thing on his mind.
“Well, I think we’re done for today,” Kris says. “You’re not even listening anymore.”
Kris doesn’t seem upset; just amused, and Zitao likes how much more approachable Kris looks when he smiles that gummy smile. “Yes,” Zitao says. “I must be tired.”
“Hmm,” Kris says, and there’s a bit of knowing in his eyes that makes Zitao’s stomach flop uncomfortably. “Tired?”
“Yes,” Zitao says. “Sorry, Duizhang.”
Kris bounces the ball a few more times, aimlessly, and then takes a shot from the three-point line. The ball swooshes through the net, and Kris smirks, looking back at Zitao and winking. “Let’s go wash up, then,” Kris says, and Zitao nods, letting Kris go first as he takes his time gathering his things. It’s almost five minutes later that Zitao is entering the locker room, dropping his towel on the bench and stripping down.
He absentmindedly checks his email—no new messages—and sets his phone down too.
Zitao is thinking about the way Kris’s arms had looked in that tank top. Perhaps that’s why, Zitao thinks, he’s somehow managed to walk into the only occupied shower.
Kris looks at him in shock, hot water falling in rivulets down his broad chest, and Zitao follows the path of the water down, down, down, before he realizes, suddenly, what he’s doing, and he covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry!”
Zitao is pretty sure that this is all Jongdae’s fault; Jongdae had jinxed him, and now Zitao is going to drown in his own mortification. Even as he feels himself flush from embarrassment, he can see the lean line of Kris’s thighs emblazoned on the forefront of his mind, and he can feel himself getting hard. This could not be worse.
He takes step backwards, and trips, but Kris’s arm snakes out to catch him by the forearm, pulling Zitao up straight. Kris overcompensates, and Zitao stumbles forward, hands landing on Kris’s shoulders.
Now Zitao is under the water, too, with Kris’s wet, silky skin beneath his palms, and yes, Zitao thinks, it could be worse, is worse. “Oh my… I’m so sorry,” Zitao babbles, staring at the drain like it has all the answers, and then Kris’s hands settle on his hips.
Zitao looks up in surprise, and Kris is smirking down at him, clearly entertained; either by his effect on Zitao or this entire situation. Good, Zitao thinks. At least if he’s entertained, Zitao hasn’t completely ruined everything. “I’m not,” Kris says. “Sorry, I mean.”
It takes a minute for the words to sink in, and when they do, Zitao is left gaping at Kris for approximately how long it takes the shot-clock to run out before Kris is claiming his mouth, pressing him against the tile and slipping his thigh between, and rub against Zitao in delicious ways.
Zitao wonders if that ice cream trip can count as a first date, because while he doesn’t usually put out on the first date, he definitely puts out on the second.
“I don’t know if I can have someone this distracting on my team,” Kris says. “You’ve been driving me crazy.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Zitao says, before he slides fingers up into Kris’s wet hair and drags his mouth back to his own, biting too hard on Kris’s lower lip as Kris reaches between them to grab both their cocks in his massive, basketball-player hands, stroking up and down quickly.
“We’ve probably got fifteen minutes untll the cleaning staff shows up,” Kris says, and Zitao can barely hear him over the sound of the water.
“We’d better make the most of it,” Zitao says, bucking up into Kris’s hand and enjoying the way they slide together. “Faster.”
“I knew you were going to be demanding,” Kris says, and Zitao laughs, sputtering as water gets into his eyes and his mouth.
“I’m glad,” Zitao hisses, and Kris’s thumb brushes across his slit, pushing back the foreskin, “I joined the team.”
“Me too,” Kris says. “Otherwise I’d have had to think of some other way to get you into these showers.”
*
Zitao opens up his email on his phone as he’s walking home, feeling simultaneously clean and filthy.
Joined the basketball team, he types in a draft to Sehun and Jongin in his rudimentary Korean. Seems fun.
Sehun writes back first. Is the captain hot?
Zitao smiles, and thinks about Kris’s eyebrows and the way his mouth had felt along the line of Zitao’s neck as he pressed open mouth kisses against the skin. Very, Zitao writes back.
He thinks it’s been a productive first week, and he’s really looking forward to basketball practice tomorrow.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-09-04 09:53 pm (UTC)finally some hot taoris again! ^^
nice nice nice ^^ the shower scene was so predictable and sooo hot :D
omg, love it :D
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:55 am (UTC)thank you for reading!
no subject
Date: 2012-09-05 02:23 am (UTC)Zitao likes them because even if Sehun has problems looking excited and Jongin can’t seem to decide if he’s arrogant or shy, both of them are really nice guys that made sure Zitao didn’t feel lost or alone in Korea, despite the language barrier.
S E H U N lmao sobs my poor bb. and ahhh i love the description of jongin here ;ww;
your characterizations are spot-on, as usual kdskjfgd even though this is relatively short and the side characters had only minor appearances, none of exo felt flat to me? how do you do this omg. ngl, i don't really ship taoris romantically, but this is so so sososososo cute and tao with a crush is just ヽ(；▽；)ノヽ(；▽；)ヽ(；▽；)ノ
excuse me as i roll and giggle in all these happy feelings u__u♥
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:56 am (UTC)thank you so much for reading!!!
--maia
no subject
Date: 2012-09-05 06:56 am (UTC)i loved all of the exo cameos (especially faux!hipsters jongin and sehun XD jongdae and minseok were hilarious as well)
and lmao at tao's habit of taking selcas in the bathroom
taoris is always a good thing ^^
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:57 am (UTC)thank you for reading ^^
--maia
no subject
Date: 2012-09-05 08:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:57 am (UTC)thank you for reading!
--maia
no subject
Date: 2012-09-05 10:28 am (UTC)BEST AU
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-05 02:33 pm (UTC)let me go die or something omg
“It just keeps getting worse,” Zitao says. “I’ve only been here four days and I feel like I’m going to die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Jongdae says. “You might do something humiliating though.” He taps his finger on his chin as he ponders. “Like getting in the wrong shower, or something.”
“You’re such a help,” Zitao says. “Really.”
“I try,” Jongdae says, pushing his glasses up again. “I really do.”
ohoho I see taochen :D
this was so cute and I loved it!♥♥
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:58 am (UTC)<3 thank you for reading!! <3 <3
no subject
Date: 2012-09-06 06:41 pm (UTC)I love love that Tao is such a fangirl in this story. Bathroom selcas and forever trolling Jongdae had me rolling.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:58 am (UTC)thank you for reading!!!
--maia
no subject
Date: 2012-09-08 01:20 pm (UTC)I love this story, like everything you write. My only complaint is that it is too short. :-P
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 07:59 am (UTC)"too short" is not often the complaint with me!!
thank you, for reading, D!!!
--maia
no subject
Date: 2012-09-10 12:51 pm (UTC)And that's when I started this weird ritual of clawing-at-face-because-TaoRis-feels and laughing-hysterically-because-Zitao.
Snarky!Jongdae is 짱; the inclusion of Kris and ice cream, yes, this is the reality I wanted; everything about the shower scene deserves all the keyboardsmashes... I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS RIGHT NOW.
So yeah, all in all, this was g r e a t . ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 08:01 am (UTC)don't claw your face! facepalm instead ;)
:D :D
i'm hapoy you liked it! thank you for reading!
no subject
Date: 2012-09-12 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 08:01 am (UTC)Thank you for reading <3
no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 08:06 am (UTC)I'm not a machine yet (but a girl can dream!) It was actually probably the most stressful week of my life in a long time, haha, because when I was writing Borderlines I had literally JUST turned in Masquerades and my brain was reeling. <3
Anyway, I'm glad you found manga-utility in this bit of self-indulgent fluff <3 <3 Thank you for reading <3 <3
--Maia
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 01:52 pm (UTC)I can't believe you managed to write both Masquerades AND Borderlinse AND Continuum in that space of time because honestly I think ust writing one of them would have exhausted me and they were both such lovely stories, sigh. One day you're going to confess that you actually sold your soul to the devil to write as much and as well as you do AND NO ONE WILL BE SURPRISED BECAUSE WE ALREADY KNEW IT!!
no subject
Date: 2012-09-18 04:55 am (UTC)in summary i am dying this is too cute help me
(but jongdae though, seriously. why are you like this you little dick i love you.)
no subject
Date: 2012-10-11 01:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-30 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-11 01:30 am (UTC)thank you for reading! <3
no subject
Date: 2012-10-01 12:15 am (UTC)MY GOD WAS THIS HOT. FUCK AND THE SMUT WAS TOP NOTCH!
i also really enjoyed the plot tooIs it too much to ask for a sequel? Pretty please?? ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-10-11 01:29 am (UTC)idk what i'll do with this world! hahah <3
thank you for reading! <3
no subject
Date: 2012-11-10 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-06 10:08 am (UTC)especially the shower scene ahhhhhh