diversion
diversion kris/luhan pg-13 drabble ~ 1k
The bullet is heading straight for his head.
Or rather, it’s supposed to, but Kris Wu is either an extremely bad shot or a complete idiot, because despite how insistently Lu Han tells him to do it right this time around he just keeps on missing. Lu Han bites his bottom lip in frustration, lets out a loud sigh and glares. A simple wave of his hand and the bullet flicks off midflight.
“I’d believe your sorry excuse about not being used to a gun,” Lu Han seethes through gritted teeth, “but they gave shooting lessons back in the Academy.”
Kris shrugs, an easy grin worming its way onto his face. “I’m not used to pointing it at people.”
Lu Han gives him an incredulous look.
“Fine. I’m not used to pointing a gun at friends,” Kris corrects himself. “You don’t just tell someone to put a bullet through your head and expect them to be able to do it easily.”
“I’m not telling you to fucking kill me, I’m telling you to help me train,” Lu Han says, clenching his fingers into fists. He doesn’t know why he even bothers. “And we’re not friends.”
Kris ignores him.
“I don’t get why I can’t just throw a chair at you or something,” he says, pulling a face. “There are other ways to train.”
“Right. Maybe I can cut off a finger or two of yours and see if that healing factor extends to regenerating limbs,” Lu Han deadpans, and dumps himself on the couch.
He wants to get under Kris’ skin; make him feel irritated, annoyed, hopefully enough for the other to warrant getting some time off away from each other. No such luck. Kris is ridiculously persistent, and any biting remarks Lu Han might have made to push him away seem to bounce off his thick head.
“Aerial combat is a good skill to develop.”
“I told you, we’re never gonna use it. There’ll be too many people—”
“There’s nothing wrong with being scared of heights.”
Silence. Lu Han closes his eyes, sags down the couch. “I’m not scared.”
Kris doesn’t believe him in the least. He doesn’t even try, the bastard. “Of course you’re not.”
Lu Han hates the tone of his voice, the confidence brimming from every single word in his sentences. Kris likes to act like he knows him, like he can sit down and listen to Lu Han talk all day long and by the end of the day be able to list down which ones are lies and which ones are half-truths.
“Just because you slept with me,” he mutters, loud enough for Kris to hear, “doesn’t mean you know me.”
Kris looks rather amused.
“So are we done with pretending it never happened?”
Lu Han gives him a dirty look.
“We’re not friends,” he repeats. “And you don’t know me.”
That isn’t completely true, because despite doing everything in his means to ensure that they never needed to talk in the last few years, Kris is probably one of the few people who’ve been with him since his very first days in the Academy. Never mind the unexplained rivalry that grew from the moment they’ve met, or the fact that the relationship morphed into some kind of weird afterschool… hobby… during their years of training. Fact is, Wu Yifan has known him for quite some time—knows him in ways other people don’t, even—and he’s very well aware of it.
The next thing he knows, Kris is sitting beside him on the couch, eyeing him with an odd expression in his eyes.
“I know enough to find it weird that you’re on probation right now.”
Lu Han flinches.
“Everyone has off days,” he replies, looking away in a hurry. “Things just got to me, is all.”
“Beating someone half to death doesn’t sound like something you’d do just because you were feeling ‘off’, Lu Han.”
“I can move things with my mind,” he states, purposefully, like he’s trying to make a point. “Excuse me if my brain doesn’t exactly work the way normal people’s do.”
There are fingers encircling his wrist, and Lu Han would wrench his hand away but Kris’ grip is strong, holds him down firmly enough that Lu Han is unable to move. He settles with giving him the darkest glare he could muster. Kris doesn’t respond; he just looks concerned.
“If there’s something you want to tell me—”
Lu Han feels cornered, trapped. Kris is moving onto a topic he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with discussing right now. So Lu Han does the next best thing; turns around, mashes Kris’ lips against his own, and steals the words right out of his mouth.
By the end of it, Kris seems a little dazed.
“You always do these things when you don’t want to talk,” Kris is saying. “Did you notice that?”
He wants answers, Lu Han knows that for sure, but his eyes are fond, and Lu Han hadn’t realized it before but he’s always suspected, always found it kind of weird how easily Kris lets him off even when he was being difficult all those years back.
He’d asked for Yixing, Minseok… Jongdae or Zitao even. None of them were allowed to watch over him; the company was worried that they were too soft, too involved. He wonders how they’ll react when they find out that the guy they did assign the job to might possibly be the worst out of the whole lot.
It doesn’t feel like an advantage, though. Lu Han has always been a little pliant, a little weak when it comes to Kris, and the latter has always been observant.
“I didn’t shoot properly,” Kris whispers in his ear, soft, gentle, pained, “because it seemed like you wanted the bullet to go through your head.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
Lu Han leans forward and kisses him again.
