“I still cannot believe that you–”

“Sehun get down!” Jongin shouts, pulling the younger down with him as a can of gas–tear gas, he notes with a grimace–shatters the already cracked kitchen windows and rolls on the kitchen floor, over shards of glass and broken plates, before settling and letting out colored vapor. Jongin grabs a bony arm and runs, a vague idea of where he is going.

“Jongin, wh–”

“Cover your nose.”

Sehun sighs despite the shouts from outside and hastily covers his face with a sleeve from the shirt he is wearing. The sleeves are too long. It is Jongin’s. “Can I at least grab some pants?”

“No time,” the blond snaps, cursing when he sees the red dots lining the walls of the office room. He doesn’t know where else to go. The shouting is getting louder.

Sehun rolls his eyes and shoulders past Jongin, carelessly walking down the hall and into the basement. Jongin follows behind, hunched over and wary, closing and locking the door behind them. It won’t hold. He slides down the banister and sprints towards an old monopoly box. He yanks out two semi-automatics. Not the best, but he’d holed them away in case something like this happened. Well, he didn’t think it would have happened exactly like this, but.

Sehun chooses this moment to round the corner, hem of Jongin’s shirt brushing his thighs and green rain boots halfway up his shins. In his hands he has a blue pair for Jongin and a carbine in the other, shotgun stuffed under his armpit.

Scowling, Jongin grabs the pair of boots and struggles into them. “What the actual hell?” He says finally.

Sehun starts, then shrugs. “I like big things.”

A giant grin takes over Jongin’s features. “Oh, I kn–” Sehun abruptly tackles him, throwing a hand over his mouth. He stills, waiting for something. He hears the footsteps upstairs and , he still has his wine stash up there. He gets up, fully intending to run upstairs and grab the few bottles he’d bought overseas because really, those were irreplaceable, but then there’s a loud bang and he knows that going up the stairs at this point means death. He starts searching for an exit. “Sehun.”

The boy turns to face him, but is pointed in the direction of the cellar stairs. “It’s locked from the outside,” he hisses back, “we can’t get out.”

Well, they’ll have to, because someone is trying to break open the door to the basement. Jongin grits his teeth and straightens his thin undershirt before snatching the carbine from Sehun and running full speed towards the sealed doors, taking the impact with his shoulder. There is a light shudder, but nothing more. Damn.

“Jongin, don’t mean to rush you, but.”

Jongin turns and meets Sehun’s tired eyes, noting the grenade rolling down the stairs. The younger goes over and gives it a light kick, eyes widening when it rolls across the room, right beside the gas furnace. Well damn.

“I’m so so–”

Jongin grabs the man and slams the of the gun against the wood, painfully aware of how little time they have before they become nothing more than burnt corpses.

The rusted chain outside gives and they make a run for it, reaching the backyard just as a deafening boom goes off behind him. They’re both thrown to the ground and Jongin is barely there enough to pull Sehun into him, protect him from the debris raining down. When it stops and there is only silence, Jongin pulls away enough to see Sehun’s unblemished face. He grins and presses their lips together, hands carding through short hair. After a minute, Sehun pulls back.

“There isn’t any time for this,” he chastises, tone playful. “We need to get to the garage.”

 

Jongin puts the minivan into reverse and gives Sehun a look. “You couldn’t have gone for a Jeep or a SUV? Hell, Sehun, even a Scion is better than this.”

Sehun frowns. “It was all part of the cover.”

“Right. About that,” Jongin doesn’t miss the way Sehun cringes out of the corner of his eye. “We need to talk,” he says simply, speeding out of the driveway, noticing the smoking house out of the corner of his eye. The economy was bad enough as it was, where was he going to find another house?

“Jongin, there’s a–”

The blond turns just in time to see a light-haired man smash the of his gun into the head of a uniformed individual who had been aiming at them. The man kicks the sniper before dashing over and throwing open the side door, jumping in. “So, what did I miss?”

Jongin groans, “with you two around, I’m not going to have any shirts left!”

Sehun nudges him from the passenger seat. “Just drive.”

 

It isn’t until they get on the highway that they notice they’re being followed. Jongin speeds up. “How many?”

Luhan ceases his humming and turns. “Two. No wait, just kidding. There’s four.”

Jongin groans. “I suppose that means we’re stuck.”

Sehun pauses rhythmic taps against his bare thigh to lean across and capture Jongin’s lips, hands framing his cheeks and teeth lightly nipping on his upper lip before he pulls away, a semblance of a smile gracing his features. “For good luck,” he explains with a wink, “now, eyes on the road.” He flips the switch on the roof that will open the trunk and makes his way back, accepting Luhan’s shot gun halfway.

Jongin weaves through traffic, trying to lose the three identical cars. No such luck. He glances up to see Sehun crouched behind a seat. “So. When were you going to tell me?”

“Honestly, never” a bored voice shouts back, “I thought we were just a fling!”

Jongin turns completely around in his chair to give Sehun a wide-eyed stare. Luhan yelps and reaches around him to grab the wheel, ending up with his chin digging into Jongin’s shoulder. “A fling,” the tallest of the three repeats, “Sehun I bought you a diamond ring, goddammit. I don’t know how much more serious serious I could have gotten.”

“You did the same for Luhan and it was really confusing!” The youngest whines back.

Jongin shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Sehun, honey,” Luhan starts, sending Sehun’s dry cleaning from last week out onto the road to miss a near-collision with a freight truck, “you know we–”

“Don’t feed me bull, you tried to kill me last night,” Sehun glances over his shoulder to send a heated glare their way. “You too.”

“You weren’t exactly a sitting duck,” Jongin counters.

Sehun sighs, “fine, fine.” He groans, “I thought it would be easier than this. I didn’t know what I was signing up for when I moved in.” A bullet zings by and Sehun returns the shot, whining soon after. “Bulletproof.”

“I don’t think any of us knew what we were getting,” Luhan agrees light-heartedly, grabbing a handgun and loading it soon after Jongin reclaims the wheel. “I wanted cover, not a showdown,” he laughs.

Jongin smirks because, really, he has to laugh otherwise he’ll go crazy. Honestly, what are the chances of three hitmen from warring agencies applying to room in the same house and then… well…

“Do you two remember that girl I brought home near the beginning? Blonde hair, big blue eyes?” Jongin begins, slowing down enough to match the speed of the head of the pack, the only car who had been stupid enough to break formation, slamming it against the barrier.

Luhan laughs, the noise harmonious and loud, overcoming the squealing of metal on metal. “Yeah! I knew right then that you were gay, I mean there was no way that–”

“We went out for a while.”

The silence in the car is disturbing despite the ruckus outside. Luhan clambers into the passenger seat and when Jongin turns to look at him, he receives a stinging slap.

“What–”

“You kissed me the night before.”

“Luhan, I didn’t know–”

“You. Kissed. Me,” Luhan enunciates each syllable, shaking his head in disbelief. “Cheating on me. You are a jackass.”

“Luhan there wasn’t anything between us at the time and anyways, I had to kill her a month later so I figured why not?”

Luhan nodded slowly. “So, is that what you’re going to do to me, too? Kill me? Go for it, I dare you.”

“Luhan, you’re–”

“I’m an orphan.”

Luhan and Jongin both turn to face the lone fighter in the back, firing a shot every now and then. They have to wait a minute before he continues.

“That couple you met? Paid actors.”

Luhan frowns. “Oh, sweetie.”

Sehun shrugs. “They were nice enough. Even offered to do a dinner date for free.” Another silence settles over the trio.

“I’m from Beijing, not Shanghai.”

Sehun looks absolutely crushed. “I learned the dialect for you! I told you I loved you in Shanghai dialect.”

“It was very cute,” Luhan consoles, giving him a small peck before turning back to a polished colt.

Jongin smashes his head down on the wheel. “The only thing I lied about was my sisters. I have two.”

Sehun erupts in laughter from the back, but quickly stops. “Um.”

“I have golf clubs in the seat to your right,” Luhan states, hand flapping in the general direction.

“Thank you,” Sehun sings, grabbing a driver before walking onto the hood of the black car practically on their tail, bringing it down onto the windshield again and again until the driver jumps out. Luhan, who had rushed to the rear, grabs him around the middle and yanks him back into the minivan. Jongin shuts the trunk and they all share a smile before two black sedans appear on either side. Luhan makes his way back to the front.

“Jongin, let me drive.”

“No, Luhan, it’s okay.”

Luhan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stop being a child and give me the wheel.”

“No. Just deal with them. I saw what you brought with you, you shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Jongin,” the bleach-haired man starts, “I know you’re the better marksman.”

Jongin’s face falls because he knows Luhan’s referring to a couple months ago when he’d been stationed in the middle of nowhere near some important guy’s hideout. He remembers the exact moment when he and his partner had been notified that enemy agents were in the field as well. He had seen the masked man poke his head out from behind the tree, had written it off as stupidity, and had taken the shot. His partner pounded him on the back as the black-helmeted figure had crumpled to the ground, but they had been unable to continue after a command was issued to get rid of the target as soon as possible. Jongin had forgotten until last night, when he’d seen the end result etched over Luhan’s stomach and lower ribs, skin still pink and raised over where the stitches had been. Jongin had apologized verbally then with his mouth, tracing the scar, but it would never be enough.

He nods and helps Luhan into the driver’s seat, waiting until the elder has a foot on the gas and both hands on the wheel before trailing a finger over the scar–he can feel it though the thin material of his dress shirt–and heading back to where Luhan had neatly arranged their resources.

Sehun crawls over, resting his chin in Luhan’s lap. “That was a low blow, you know.”

Luhan rolls his eyes. “He needs to get over it. Now go help him, he’s hopeless.”

Jongin grabs two handguns and throws open the side door, aiming for the wheels of the car. Shots are fired at him, but continue to miss. It is all about intelligence nowadays, he laments, if a prospective is good with a computer he can be a horrible marksman and still fill Jongin’s place. Pity. He grabs a pistol and fires three shots, two of them making their mark. The car slows and spins, another car crashing into the side.

One to go.

Jongin closes the heavily dented door and makes for the other side, where Sehun is trying to balance a carbine by throwing half of his body out the door. Jongin pulls him back inside and aims the pistol, gritting his teeth when he runs out of bullets. The car is all over the place. He crawls back inside and grabs another pistol, trying to decide between the machine gun or the carbine when a mouth latches itself onto his neck.

“You can rely on me too, you know,” Sehun whispers against his throat, “you don’t have to fight your own battles anymore; you have us.”

As if to make this point, Luhan yanks the steering wheel to the right, shifting into reverse then shouting, “GO!”

Sehun snatches the carbine out of Jongin’s hands and leans halfway out the door, leg dangling. Jongin moves to his side, holding him in place. “Aim a little higher than the tires,” he advises, watching with pride as Sehun does exactly that, busting the two wheels and turning to face Jongin with a smug smile.

Then the minivan stops and the car is much too close.

“Luhan.”

“I can’t–the brakes just stuck,” the man shouts, sounding alarmed, “give me a second!”

“We don’t have a second. They’re practically–”

“JONGIN.”

The tallest turns to find a masked man in the doorway, foot pressing down on Sehun’s leg, the youngest unable to reach his rifle. The car is practically lodged beneath the minivan.

“I’m going to enjoy the million I get from this,” the man promises, raising his hands in which he holds a handgun, and aims at Sehun.

Jongin grabs a firearm and shoots blindly, not stopping until the man has dropped the gun. He rushes forward and kicks the man out of the doorway, the heel of his boot coming down on the hood of the car until Luhan has wrenched them free. Jongin slides the door shut, breathing harshly and checking out the shattered rear window. “That’s it.”

Sehun, shaking slightly, sits up and brushes himself off. He nimbly makes his way into the passenger’s seat, sinking down into the soft leather. Jongin tries to organize the weapons, before giving up and throwing them all onto the seat, moving to sit in Sehun’s lap careful to keep his weight mostly off the boy. Warm arms wrap around his middle, pulling him into a defined chest.

“So,” Sehun begins after clearing his throat, “what now? What do we do?”

“There are plenty of horrible people in the world,” Jongin huffs, “there will always be a market for people who kill people. We’re set.”

Luhan grins in agreement. “And I happen to know a pretty good one.”

It was silent a bit longer, Sehun playing with Jongin’s fingers and blowing little puffs of air into his back before reluctantly speaking. “So, that’s not going to be the end. They’re going to be after us again. Always.” Jongin nods, threading their fingers together.

“Please,” Luhan laughs, “I think we can handle it.”