Author's Notes: This ficlet was written for Tekken Dreamz's Halloween fic section. I wrote it in 10 minutes, so it's no great piece of fiction, but I thought it was cute and fun.
Disclaimer: -sigh- Now comes the depressing part. Jin's not mine, the sexy Korean's not mine, no matter how much I squeeze my eyes shut and wish it were true. Namco owns them, the lucky bastards.
Hwoarang sighed and rolled his eyes. Jin was laying down after a particularly rough training session with his new sensei, but Xiaoyu was on the phone, screeching to talk to the black-haired man about a Halloween party she was throwing next week. Prodding the shirtless man with the end of the cordless phone, Hwoarang tried again. "Get up, man, it's your _girlfriend_, and she sounds pretty excited. Damn near busted my ear drum in the process, too."
When Jin made no move toward the proffered telephone, Hwoarang jabbed it into his bare shoulder a bit harder. This earned him an outraged grunt, but Jin just snuffled into his pillow, hugging it tighter and ignoring the martial artist.
Sighing again, the red-head placed the phone back to his ear. "I can't wake him, Ling."
"Try harder!" Xiaoyu's voice screaked across the staticky wires. Letting off with a string of obscenities in his native language, Hwoarang wrenched the cursed phone away from him, tossing it onto the floor.
"Fuck, Kazama, talk to your parrot of a girlfriend already, before she appears in real life and gives me a bigger fuckin' headache!"
Jin shifted on the bed, turning onto his side. "Not my girlfriend," he mumbled sleepily.
The red-haired Korean looked at Kazama murderously for a second, then inspiration struck. Knowing Jin's reactions to his body, Hwoarang pressed his mouth to the other's exposed ear, catching it between his teeth. "Oh Jin..." he breathed seductively, silently delighting in the visible shiver that ran down the stockier man's spine.
Hwoarang chuckled lowly. "If you don't get up and talk to that skanky _girlfriend_ of yours, you'll miss me modeling my Halloween costume."
"Fwa-- yeah? What kinda costume, Hwoarang?" Jin asked, not opening an eye or even bothering to roll over to face the Tae Kwon Do master.
A slow cheshire grin spread across Hwoarang's features, unknown to the heir to the Mishima fortune. He pressed his lips to Jin's ear again and whispered oh-so-innocently, "I thought I'd go as nature intended."
"Huh," Jin said intelligently, lazily sliding one eye open. All he could see, however, was a single lock of poker-straight red hair. He shifted to get a better view of the thin man, but found he was pinned to the bed. "What do you mean?"
Looking up to the heavens for an answer to his koibito's sudden block- headedness, Hwoarang decided to give Jin the benefit of the doubt and tried again. "I thought about wearing a suit for Halloween. Perhaps my... birthday suit?"
Suddenly, Jin got it. Throwing aside the red-head's arms, he bolted up in the bed and turned to his lover. He groaned and slumped back when he felt pain lance through his shoulder, his eyes shut in agony.
Hwoarang slunk guiltily out of the room, closing the door quietly. He had completely forgotten about Jin's injury, which he had sustained at practice earlier. Laughing silently, the fully-clothed Korean leaned against the door, relearning how to breathe and listening to Jin howl inside the room. Oh, how he loved to tease the black-haired man.
"I'm gonna get you for that, Hwoarang!" he heard Jin shout. Walking off down the hall, the red-head smirked. Oh, Jin _was_ going to get him back, of that Hwoarang was certain. Funny how he always looked forward to that, too.
Owari. Please R/R.
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