not with a bang but with a kiss

All it takes is one glance across the span of the ballroom, over twirling pairs in tuxedoes and gaudy-coloured dresses.

Siwon recognises him at first sight. He moves, descending onto marble floor where his polished dress shoes mingle with many dancing others. The man has disappeared when he arrives, leaving his lady partner in the attentive arms of another man.

Siwon does not pause. His feet carry him outside, upstairs, past tall white columns and walls lined with soft-shaded paintings. He has memorised the blueprint of the building in his head, all the shortcuts, back stairs, and airshafts, combined into twenty-six different permutations to go from where he is to the eleventh-floor office. Using the shortest course, he arrives in precisely one minute and eight seconds.

That his enemy knows the exact same route is evident when he opens the door and finds the man inside, a sheaf of paper in his hand.

“Freeze.”

He steps in, the muzzle of his gun aimed at the intruder’s forehead. It is the same man, the same face which stares back at him from a blurry snapshot in his mission details files. Siwon does not need to remember the name—after three months of dancing around each other, it is engraved so deeply in the back of his mind to the point of indelibility. Cho Kyuhyun is his archenemy, and a very dangerous man by any standard.

“Step away from the desk,” he orders, earning himself a raised eyebrow from the other man.

“Say please.”

“Please,” Siwon deadpans, pretending that Cho Kyuhyun’s voice does not send a dangerous shiver down his spine.

His command is obeyed with a slow-spreading smirk. “Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

He blinks, and that is his first mistake. Siwon does not have enough time to adjust his aim and fire at a non-vital body part when Kyuhyun kicks the gun out of his grip. He deflects the second blow, but another quickly follows, then another, and another, each delivered with precision and just enough force to occupy his entire attention. There is no window for him to reach down and take his other gun, tucked in an ankle holster.

Which means that he has to change his target to that of his opponent’s—the papers.

True to his prediction, Kyuhyun falters, changing into defensive for a split of a second. But it is more than enough; Siwon does not waste time to lunge forward, taking custody of Kyuhyun’s wrists and restraining them against the edge of the desk. The stalemate is broken.

“Not so fast,” he growls, triumph lending a rougher edge to his voice.

The other man smiles in response. “My mistake.”

And then kisses him.

Siwon can literally feel his mind going blank, the entire scope of his awareness centred on the warm lips pressed against his. Then it is over, too long but too soon, and his captive is suddenly no longer a captive. When he turns around, Kyuhyun is already crouching on the windowsill, the disputed papers safely tucked behind silk jacket.

A smirk, a wink, all wordlessly eloquent; then he tips himself backward and disappears over the brink.

Siwon swears that his heart stops beating for a moment. Then he hastens toward the window, only to discover that there is, in fact, a wire (which clearly has been prepared beforehand), and not to mention the two men waiting on the ground, ready with a car which soon speeds away into the cloak of anonymity offered by the city at night.

It is not until about fifteen seconds later that Siwon realises he has lost this round—and because of a damned kiss.

END

A/N: The title is a play on a very famous line from T.S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men.