Pairing: hints of Tao/Sehun
Rating: PG13 idk for language

mama-ish au!

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“Just perfect,” Zitao hisses, looking down to see the drop of blood drip from his fingertip and soak into his jeans, blossoming over dark denim.  At least it’s not obvious and it’s a lot better than if it had landed on the floor.  Zitao takes the cloth from his satchel and wraps it carefully around the chipped vase still in his grip.

He’s careful when he slips the aged porcelain into his bag.  His eyes linger over the rest of the vault he’s inside, just as a precautionary measure to ensure he didn’t leave any evidence behind.  The man who spent a fortune to procure this vase from a treasure hunter is going to be pissed when he discovers it’s missing.  And Zitao doesn’t give a damn.

What he holds in his satchel is something far more precious than pottery, although that knowledge is privy to very few.  His job is to ensure that the relics from the old world - the world of magic that humans paved over - are not brought into the light.  His kind do not want to be found.

Zitao slips out of the vault with ease, closing it behind him and using the shadows as his path.  They lead him outside the overly large house and into the gardens.  That’s where Zitao stashes the vase to be picked up by another one of his team later.

It’s simple enough for Zitao to close his eyes and pull on the power that runs through his veins.  He feels it coursing through him - hot and alive - and Zitao succumbs to it completely.  It always leaves him light-headed, blinking his eyes open to take in his surroundings.  He’s still in the garden, but the sun hasn’t set quite yet.  By his calculations, and the amount of exhaustion clinging to his limbs, he’s gone a few hours back in time to before he’d taken the vase.

The Zitao from this time is still in his hotel, about to leave to begin his trip here.  This Zitao heads back to the hotel, taking a different route so he doesn’t run into himself.  He’d done that once and the migraine he’d gotten after wasn’t worth it.  So he takes care that his self from now is gone before slipping inside through the back door.  Zitao’s bags are already packed and waiting for him, his ticket back to Seoul tucked in the pocket.  He made sure everything was ready to go before he left.

Zitao checks out and hails a cab, slumping in the seat and rubbing his temples to ease the pressure during the ride.  Time traveling, even when it’s only a hop back several hours, puts such a strain on the body.  It’s why he only does it when it’s necessary.

The airport is bustling, as it always is, and Zitao shoulders his way through, sunglasses put away so the cameras in the building all get a good look at his face.  He makes sure to pass close to several, seating himself in the waiting area right across from one.  It’s a great alibi.

He scrolls through his phone - the one that he never uses for business - and wastes time until boarding, smiling congenially at the stewardesses when he passes.  After getting himself as comfortable as he can in his seat, Zitao leans his head back and closes his eyes.  He only opens them after takeoff when he can slip his earbuds in and listen to calming music that drowns out the sound of the engines.

Zitao sleeps his way through the entire flight.

There are several uniformed police officers waiting for Zitao when he disembarks.  He almost lets out a laugh when they ask him to come with them.  He doesn’t put up a fight, allowing one of the officers to take his bag from him on their way to security.  Small white rooms with one way mirrors, a table and two chairs are something Zitao is familiar with.  He’s found himself inside them all too often, even if none of the accusations ever stick.

Zitao waits patiently, offering whoever is behind the mirror a smile and a small wave.  It isn’t long before the detective in charge comes waltzing in, all long legs in black slacks and a lean torso underneath a fitted white button-up.  Zitao sits higher in his seat, dragging his eyes curiously over the detective’s handsome face.

“If I knew they came as hot as you, I’d have done something naughty sooner,” Zitao quips, making a show of his lips after.

The detective glances up at him while dropping a thick file on the table between them.  “Is that a confession?” he tosses back before taking a seat.

“Hardly,” Zitao snorts.  “But you might get me to confess much more interesting things if you promise to tie me up.”

“I’m Detective Oh,” he says, fingers drumming on the table.  He doesn’t bother opening the file.  They both know what’s inside.  “And I have a few questions for you.”

“I prefer theme parks over dinner for first dates, and I like with the lights on.  How about you?”

“How did you do it?” Detective Oh asks, elbows on the table and fingers clasped under his chin.  “Seven perfect crimes with you in the city and yet you always have an airtight alibi.”

Zitao leans back in his chair.  It creaks.  “Did you ever think that I didn’t have anything to do with them?  What are you accusing me of now?”  Zitao crosses his arms and sighs, staring at the detective.  “Robbing a bank?  If there’s no proof, you can’t hold me here.”  With a grin, Zitao holds his hands out, wrists together.  “Unless you want to cuff me for another reason.”

A light breeze runs down the back of Zitao’s shirt and he shivers, shifting forward.

“What I don’t understand,” Detective Oh continues, “is that all of these antiques have seemingly disappeared.  There’s no sign of them showing up on any of the black markets, or miraculously being found in someone else’s collection.  What is it that you’re doing with them?”

“With what exactly?” Zitao queries with a tilt of his head.  A breeze runs over his skin again and Zitao is beginning to take notice.

Detective Oh finally opens the folder, spreading out pictures of every single relic that Zitao has taken back from humans and delivered to his own people.  Zitao merely glances at them, keeping his eyes on the detective.  There’s something there that intrigues him.

“Seven cities in three countries, all with something precious stolen from a vault that’s been deemed impenetrable.”

“I don’t think that word means as much now,” Zitao hums.  “Impenetrable.”  He slides his feet out underneath the table and an eyebrow at Detective Oh.  “Tell me, is anything truly completely safe?  Will there ever be a foolproof security system?  I’m guessing no.  Tacking on impenetrable is a marketing ploy to swindle money from idiots.”

“So you know how to break into something that’s marketed as impenetrable?”

Zitao narrows his eyes, scraping over his bottom lip before answering.  “Only when it comes to people. I’ve had several people claim to be impenetrable, but once I got my hands on them, they were begging me to . . . penetrate.”

This time, the gust of wind scatters the photographs on the table, some of them fluttering onto the floor.  Zitao takes great interest in that even as Detective Oh scrambles to pick them all up.

“If that’s all then,” Zitao states, “I’d like to be on my way.  You clearly have no evidence to detain me.”  And because he can’t help himself, “unless you’d like to do a cavity search”.

Zitao slides into his car and takes a moment to rub his eyes, letting out a deep breath.  He fishes his burner phone from the glove box and dials his boss.  “I’ve found another relic,” Zitao states.  “A man.  I request assistance with extraction.”

There’s silence on the other line for only a moment before Joonmyun speaks.  “Done.”

Only moments later, Jongin appears in a puff of shadow, sitting comfortable in Zitao’s passenger seat.  “A man?” Jongin asks.  “I hope he’s good looking.”

“Very,” Zitao purrs.  “This one’s going to be fun.”