I hate policemen

The suite was bright and quiet, the sun lazily piercing throught the awnings. Kim Yesung was waiting patiently, hidden around a corner of the room, waiting for the man to come out from the bathroom. All he wanted were informations. Nothing more, nothing less. He dindn't have a gun – a dagger neither. He didn't have to kill that man. He needed top secret informations. If he dies, the truth will die with him. And he wouldn't let this happen.

Minutes passed by, and Yesung was still there, leaning on the wall, humming a song as his eyes scanned the room and everything that was around him. He immediately memorized his surroundings, and he knew he wouldn't be able to forget a single thing.

Suddenly, the door of the bathroom opened, and a middle aged man – that Yesung knew as Nowitzki – came out, wearing nothing but a white bathrobe. He ran his fingers through his wet, black hair, and the hidden young man noticed a few gray strands. Nowitzki stood in front of the window, pouring some scotch in a glass and drinking it in one gulp. He smiled, satisfied, and grabbed the bottle, ready for another drink.

Yesung took one step forwards and opened his mouth to surprise the man. But his idea was soon useless.

The loud noise of numerous gunshots filled the room, followed by moans of pain and broken glasses. The raven crouched on the floor, squishing his body against the wall, eyes shut and hands over his head. He dared to glance over the corner and he spotted Nowitzki's body lying on the floor, lifeless. He cursed under his breath and clenched his fist, throwing a punch at the wall beside him. Trying to calm down and to repress his anger, he crawled into the living room and left the suite through a secondary door, sneaking on the floor and avoiding the bullets. As soon as he got on the ground floor and then out of the hotel, he looked around and immediately understood why the mission didn't go well – why the results of months of hard work and sleepless nights crushed on the floor. Patrol cars were everywhere, the sirens were and their sound was echoing in the neighbourhood.

Yesung kicked a pebble, drowning in frustration, before pulling out his phone and calling his collegues:

-I failed. Policemen nosed around again.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The bar was full and it wasn't even eleven in the evening. Yesung was sitting at the counter, all alone, bearing with his anger, disappointment and sadness – not to mention his hate towards the police. Without Nowitzki, they were again at the starting point. He could already imagine how exhausting the next months were going to be: stress, coffee and computers would be his best friends, and he probably would rarely be at home.

Swallowing another shot of vodka, he ordered a new one – strawberry, this time. He wanted to forget about that frustrating day for a few hours, store away those memories and enjoy his last free evening, since he couldn't see any free day on the horizon.

He swallowed two more shots of alcohol, before he could feel someone behind him. He glanced at his left and saw a man sitting beside him. He couldn't be much younger – or older – than him. The unknown guy had trim black hair, a pretty well-built body and two amazing and sparkling eyes. Yesung stared at him for some seconds, dazed, his sensed obfuscated because of the amount of alcohol in his system. The other man looked at him, a bit embarassed, but then he smiled and said:

-Tough day, uh?

Yesung jumped on his spot and just turned his head, blushing a bit. He noticed how many empty glasses he had in front of him – the reason behind the nameless man's statement. He drank a bit of his vodka lemon and then he spoke with a husky voice:

-You have no idea.

And that was everything they needed to start a conversation. They spent almost two hours talking about this and that, meaningless things that would let them forget their problems. Even if only for a little period of time.

Sipping their drinks, slowly and calmly, they got to know a bit of each other but, sadly, time is still the greatest thief of all and, before they could even realize it, it had already stolen their mere free hours.

-I must go. I have to wake up extra-early, tomorrow- Siwon grunted, paying his drinks and standing up from his seat.

-Work?- Yesung asked, leaning on the counter.

-Yeah... I'm a policeman.

Yesung froze on his spot for a few seconds, before being able to assimilate the fact that he had been talking for more than one hour to a policeman.

And he had liked it.

-So, what do you think?- Siwon asked and Yesung snapped out of his fantasies. He was so shocked he hadn't even noticed that the latter was talking to him.

-S-sorry, what?

-I was wondering if we could meet again- Siwon repeated, his smile showing two cute dimples on the corner of his cheeks.

The spy, surprised, mumbled a few incomprehensible words, before being able to say:

-Yes, I'd love to.

After all, he could change his opinion about policemen, couldn't he?

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble (or a double-drabble). But, simply, I can't write drabbles – pardon me the redundancy.

A spy!AU (one more time) and always YeWon *hugs the OTP*.

Plus, english isn't my mother tongue, that's why you'll find few mistakes here and there.

As I've already said after the first chapter of “Cross my heart and hope to lie”, I'm going on holiday – leaving today – and I'll comeback on the 24, so I'll update the long fic at the end of August.

I hope you liked this one-shot and, please, let me now what you think about it.

Thanks for reading!

Hope to see a lot of comments *dreams*.

Bye, see you in two weeks!