“Dude I ing just my pants.”

“Chanyeol I’m actually working, believe it or not so could you just for five seconds-”

“No, like I actually-”

“Yeol. Rule 5 of your rent-free residence with me is that you shut that huge mouth of yours for when I’m trying to-”

Baekhyun pauses, draws in a deep breath, and promptly gags.

“What the hell is that smell, Chanyeol!?”

Jongdae is still reeling from the incident, but he figures that since he scored a date due to it, he doesn’t have to be that embarrassed anymore. It’s just sort of horrifying that he was transparent enough with his feelings for Yixing to know exactly how to traumatize him.

Jongdae is just about to head for the exit when he hears a loud thud and a muffled curse. He walks down the hallway and peers into the break room- it looks empty to him. There is another bump, and another curse, this time significantly louder.

Turning in confusion, he is faced with Joonmyun, juggling a box of takeout, his car-keys, stacks of Manila folders and a leather briefcase- the damned fishbowl, clanking loudly due to all the change in it, fallen at his feet.

Speak of the devil.

"..Need a hand?"

"Please.”

Jongdae and Joonmyun go back a long way. They went to the same high school and Jongdae still harbors memories of the latter; valedictorian, head prefect, hall monitor, student council president- and to top it all off- Jongdae's crush for 3 whole years. (That is, until Joonmyun graduated.) Unfortunately, Jongdae has a penchant for perfect rich boys that he has no hope of attaining.

At least, up until this point. Jongdae is hyperaware of the fact that their dinner date is looming a few hours away.

The two had mutual friends and encountered each other pretty frequently during high school, but Jongdae always kept himself at a distance; Joonmyun’s uality was undetermined, and Jongdae was a coward.

The two trudge to the parking lot, Jongdae holding the ‘No-No jar’ and simultaneously brainstorming ways to drop it and make it look like an accident. Joonmyun is lame, so lame, and unfortunately, Jongdae loves it.

"So why the hell do you carry this dumb jar around again? It seems like a lot of work.”

“Didn't I already explain this concept the other day?" Joonmyun asks with amused eyes.

Jongdae fixes the elder with a flat look. "The other day when you were explaining the concept, Yixing plastered my office walls with pictures of your head photoshopped to other people's nudes. I'm sure you can forgive my forgetfullness."

Joonmyun smirks. "Just wanted to hear it from your mouth."

Jongdae flushes, rubbing his face in an effort to cover up the evidence. He can never predict Joonmyun's comebacks.

"Anyway, believe it or not, this is a school, and teachers should set an example for the students. Cussing isn’t the best example.” Joonmyun adds on a more serious tone.

Jongdae's eyebrows raise. So predictable.

"But of course, resident hall monitor Joonmyun, bettering the workplace for the children."

Joonmyun has the grace to look moderately abashed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on, you should know. It's just like high school days. Perfect Kim Joonmyun with the perfect face and the perfect brains." Jongdae hopes to God that he doesn’t really have to explain this whole thing out to Joonmyun, because it has potential to become extremely embarrassing.

Joonmyun takes the fishbowl from Jongdae, tossing it into his backseat after unlocking the doors to his car.

"There is more than one Kim Joonmyun in this world, are you sure you have the right one?”

Jongdae laughs with disbelief. "Come on, Joonmahao. You should know this."

“Rumors are rumors, you can't believe everything you hear," Joonmyun counters. "And don't ing call me that!" he adds belatedly.

Jongdae sends a pointed glance towards the No-No jar.

Joonmyun sighs, leaning against his car and studying the slowly darkening sky, and Jongdae joins him, just far enough away so that their arms don’t touch.

"Enough about me- from what I can remember, you were the one with quite the reputation around the ladies.” Joonmyun’s words are punctuated with an amused smile.

"What- no one ever was interested in me!" Jongdae is blushing, ing blushing, because golden boy Kim Joonmyun actually recalls his high school dating history. Jongdae covers up his scarlet cheeks with a look of disbelief.

Joonmyun's mouth opens just slightly in a quiet laugh and he scoots just the little bit closer and now their arms are touching.

Jongdae is forever a coward (but this time he presses closer because Kim Joonmyun is still a total babe)

"Are you kidding? Jongdae with the killer cheekbones and the angel’s voice?"

Jongdae is about to open his mouth to reply with something, anything, when there is a rapid-fire click, a blinding flash, and a hyena-like laugh that could only belong to one person.

Jongdae cringes and Joonmyun presses the heel of his palms into his eyes to stop the temporary blindness.

“Well, well, well, isn’t this just precious?  Kim and Kim, watching the sunset and reminiscing about old high school days. Quite the picture perfect moment, you know, and especially before the dinner date!"

The first thing Luhan registers as his eyes flutter open is a flickering light bulb, connected to the ceiling with a flimsy looking piece of string and swinging dangerously.

“What the hell,” he groans, pressing a hand to his temple to stem his growing headache. “Where the am I?”

He moves to rise, but on sight of the rope binding his wrists and ankles to a metal pole, decides not to even try. With a second and third blink, his eyes adjust to the murky yellow lighting and he takes in his surroundings- white stucco ceilings, grey walls and grimy cement floor, all doused in the heavy scent of gasoline.

A frantic twist of his neck and Luhan takes note of Sehun and Jongdae, tied to the same pole he is, passed out in varying states of disarray.

Luhan lets out a long moan as understanding filters through his headache. There’s only one person who could pull off this kind of stunt.

“Zhang Yixing,” Luhan mutters, a wave of rage curdling in his throat. “My blood boils red with the urge to kill. No longer shall my people be beaten to the ground by your filthy hands; no longer will their bodies be tainted with the wrath of your hatred, no, no more! I, Luhan shall avenge the people of China, and you will bow down to your TRUE RULER FOR THE FINAL TIME-”

“in’ A, Luhan! Shut the hell up!” Luhan’s tirade is cut off by an irritable, just-awoken Jongdae.

“This is a big deal, Jongdae!” Luhan hisses. “I knew Yixing was fast, but I didn’t know he was this fast! It hasn’t even been 24 hours since we stole his motorcycle. We need to step up our game.”

Jongdae groans into the palm of his hand. “Well I have somewhere to be at 7 pm today, so Yixing better live up to this fast reputation so I can get the hell out of here!”

Luhan whips his head around the best he can (he’s sort of restricted by the ropes) and tries his hardest to snarl threateningly at Jongdae. “Do you understand the gravity of this situation, Jongdae? This isn’t about giving Yixing what he wants. This is about our pride. This is about the pride of the pranking club.”

“Honestly, I have a date with Joonmyun in about three hours,” Jongdae says, glancing at his watch, “and if I’m late to that there will be hell to pay.”

Luhan snickers. “Oh yeah, I was just snapping a picture of that pre-date flirting.”

Jongdae just glares, squirming uncomfortably. “Stop. You’re embarrassing.”

“What’s even more embarrassing is that I honestly can’t remember what I did after taking that picture.”

“Oh yeah. How did we ing get here?” Jongdae hisses.

Luhan grits his teeth. “I’m thinking tranquilizers. Yixing’s into some pretty shady . The real question is who his supplier is…”

“I better have enough time to shower after this. My balls itch.”

Luhan’s upper lip rises in unadulterated disgust. “You know, for a gay man, you’re pretty unsanitary.”

There is a sudden bang and then an eery creaking noise echoes off of the walls. Luhan’s eyes widen and flashes of every horror movie he’s watched ever flit through his head at high speed. It doesn’t help that this room is one of the creepiest places he’s ever been in, either. He presses himself against the pole, eyes fixed on the door on the opposite side of the room.

“Do you hear that?” Jongdae whispers, breathing intensified. “It sounds like wheels.”

Luhan swallows, hard. “If we die here-”

The door flies open with a sickening thud and Luhan squints his eyes to see Yixing’s figure crouched on a tiny red tricycle, pedaling unsteadily into the room. His face is tilted towards the ground and Luhan strains to make out the dancer’s features in the grainy light. It might just be the ty lighting, but it almost looks like-

Yixing suddenly looks up and Luhan and Jongdae both let out unmanly shrieks in unfortunate unison.

“Seriously? Why the are you wearing an Obama mask!?” Jongdae exclaims.

Luhan’s racing heart-rate is replaced by an exasperated throbbing in his temples.

Yixing ignores the outburst and stumbles off the tricycle, the small contraption wobbling unsteadily and then tipping to the floor with a clang.

He clears his throat and crosses his arms, standing confidently at the front of the room. “Now that you all are awake-”

“Actually, Sehun isn’t awake,” Luhan interrupts, pointing over his shoulder. Sehun is still sprawled out on the floor, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Yixing stalks over to Sehun and kicks the boy in calf. “Wake up!” he commands.

Sehun squirms, eyes fluttering, a string of saliva connecting him to the ground. “Where am I?” he murmurs.

Jongdae makes a sound of distaste from the back of his throat. “Could this possibly take any longer?” he hisses.

Sehun in a gasp of air as his eyes adjust, then lets out a little shout and twists around. “OBAMA-SENPAI!” he gasps, blinking rapidly as he gains awareness. “S-senpai- don’t look at me in this state!”

Yixing makes a noise from behind his mask that sounds suspiciously like a muffled sigh.

Jongdae reaches around the pole and whacks Sehun in the back of the head. “God, you retard. It isn’t Obama, it’s Yixing.”

Sehun’s eyes squint, then widen to unthinkable sizes. “Y-Yixing is black?”

Yixing groans and rips off the Obama mask, throwing it to the floor. “I wanted this to be kind of like SAW* but god, you guys are stupid.”

“Can we just get this thing over with??” Jongdae sobs into the floor. “I finally scored a date with the man of my dreams and I’m stuck in this room with you imbeciles.”

Yixing steps back to the front of the room and resumes his stance with arms crossed. Luhan is pretty sure it’s supposed to be intimidating, but in this yellow light Yixing just looks sort of stupid.

“It has been brought to my attention that you three have gained possession of an object very dear to me.” Yixing began. “Now you have two choices- confess to this crime and inform me of the whereabouts of my Cherry Shanghai, or remain locked in this room for an indefinite amount of time. Choose wisely.”

Sehun lets out a low gasp. “What should we do?”

Luhan fixes him with the best regal stare he can muster up under the circumstances. “Remember your honor, Sehun. Remember your people.”

There is a thick silence in the room and Yixing begins to tap his foot. “You have thirty seconds.”

“Yes, yes, okay, we stole your god damn motorcycle now get me the outta here!” Jongdae bursts.

Luhan lets out a banshee-like scream, and thrashes wildly against his ropes. “JONGDAE! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!?”

Jongdae scoffs as Yixing unties him. “ the Pranking Club, I have an almost-boyfriend that I need to attend to. Y’all are gay.”

“Do either of you want to join Jongdae and admit to your crime?” Yixing asks, smirking.

There is another heavy silence, and Yixing shrugs, leading Jongdae out of the room.

Luhan sobs as the door bangs shut and seals his fate. It was all over so fast- where was the valiance and the bravery of the Pranking Club? How could Jongdae throw it all away for a simple date?

“How could he desert the club like this?” Luhan cries. “After all we’ve worked towards…”

“Thanks Obama!” Sehun yells, then guffaws quietly at his own joke.

Kyungsoo is aware that his life is a little bit pathetic, but he never imagined it would come down to this.

“To call or not to call,” he mutters to himself, fingers hovering over the contacts button of his iPhone.

It’s a Friday night, the new season of Pororo just came out, and Kyungsoo will admit, he is feeling a little lonely.

Joonmyun is out on his date with Jongdae, and Chanyeol and Baekhyun apparently are having some sort of ‘situation’ at their shared apartment. And honestly, Kyungsoo just isn’t in the mood for the antics of his other friends tonight.

Kyungsoo doesn’t even know why he’s so nervous. It’s not like he and Jongin aren’t close enough to hang out outside of work, and in fact, Jongin was already supposed to come over Saturday night. Besides, Kyungsoo is straight, so why does he always act like a nervous teenage girl when he thinks about the younger boy?

Kyungsoo grips his phone a little tighter. “You do not have a schoolgirl crush,” he mutters to himself. Before he can change his mind, he dials.

He almost hangs up when he hears the ringing, but then a familiar deep voice answers, and now it's too late.

“Jongin?”

“Yes?”

Kyungsoo can hear the amusement in the dancer’s voice and he wonders, suddenly, why he was even nervous in the first place.

“So, the new season of Pororo just came out, and-”

“I’ll be right there. Is takeout okay?”

When Kyungsoo answers the door he is all sweet smiles and creamy skin and damp dark hair and shower fresh.

Jongin wants to touch, but then he’d drop the bags of Chinese takeout, and that’d be the mark of a bad guest.

“Nice place,” he remarks, setting the food down on Kyungsoo’s coffee table in front of the t.v.

Kyungsoo flashes him one of those disarming smirks, lips turning down in the corners but eyes lighting up. “Liars go to hell, Kim Jongin.”

Jongin laughs, settling down on the couch and un-bagging the food while Kyungsoo finds chopsticks. Kyungsoo’s place is sparse yet homey; it feels lived-in, and Jongin is instantly comfortable. There are photo frames lining the walls, of Kyungsoo and his family and friends.

Jongin would get up and look, but he doesn’t know whether that’s creepy or not so he lets it go and decides to save it for next time. (Jongin is desperately hoping for a next time, at least two or three next times.)

Kyungsoo settles down beside him, and the two fall into a comfortable silence, with Kyungsoo's commentary and Jongin's bad jokes punctuating the exaggerated plot lines of Pororo. Jongin has never met anyone who adored children's shows as much as he does, so it's a big deal when Kyungsoo knows all the names of the characters and doesn't find Jongin to be the hugest nerd in the universe.

They eat straight out of the containers and fight over the last morsels of the food, and Jongin ends up dusting bits of rice out of Kyungsoo's hair with a grin on his face. Kyungsoo snatches the last bite of tofu right out of Jongin’s chopsticks and the oil on his lips makes them glisten like he’s straight out of a movie. Jongin has never been so happy to binge watch a show, and even though his eyes kind of hurt it’s all worth it when a warm weight that smells like strawberry shampoo presses against his side.

Jongin slowly, ever so carefully swings his arm around the back of the couch, and his fingers are not shaking, and now his arm is around Kyungsoo, nestling the elder further into his side.

“You know, you look kind of like Pororo.” Jongin notes as the little penguin dances across the screen, partly to tease the other boy and partly to cover up his flaming cheeks.

He isn’t prepared for the punch in the gut he gets and almost chokes on his own spit.

Whoa. Fiesty Kyungsoo. Jongin tells his to calm down.

“If I’m Pororo, you have to be Krong.”

“Ew, what the hell, I look nothing like Krong!”

Kyungsoo studies him for a moment, just long enough to get Jongin’s pulse racing. “It’s all in the jaw.” He notes.

Jongin shoots Kyungsoo with a glare and prays that the dim lighting covers up the spark in his eyes.

“What happened this time?” he asks, exasperated, as he moves on to undoing Sehun’s bindings.

“Yixing retaliated.” Luhan grumbles, standing up on shaky legs. “And Jongdae betrayed the pranking club so he could go on his dumb date with Joonmyun.”

Minseok rolls his eyes. “You guys are taking all this pranking stuff way too seriously. Do you even have any idea what time it is?”

Luhan shoots him a look. “You wouldn’t understand the underground world, Minseok. Time has no reigns on people whose business thrives under the cover of night!” He ends this tirade with a raised fist, shining eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling.

Minseok raises an eyebrow. “I suppose that is a concept I’d be unfamiliar with.”

Luhan sighs. “Anyway, I’m most confused on how Yixing managed to trap us all here. I swear I was just walking to my car.”

“Same here,” Sehun adds, rubbing the feeling back into his wrists. “I had just arrived home, and I honestly don’t remember anything else. He must’ve just come over and drugged me or something.”

“Hmm...” Luhan ponders. “These are tactics we can put into action as well.”

Minseok tries his hardest to cover up the smirk forming on his face. “Well, that’s all the rope. Just don’t let Yixing know I was here. Tell him you found your own pocketknife or something.”

Luhan scampers towards the door, eager to put the incident behind him. Minseok suspects his pride is severely wounded.

“Thanks for that, man. You’re the best lock picker I know.”

Minseok clicks his tongue, smile still in place on his face, and backs up to block Luhan’s path. “Not so fast, pretty boy. You didn’t really think I was gonna come all the way down here to rescue you for nothing in return, did you?”

Luhan swallows, a shiver running down his spine.

He always suspected Minseok was shady, but didn’t exactly know just how shady.

Sehun winks at Minseok. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Luhan stares, open-mouthed, as Sehun waltzes out of the room whistling.

Minseok grins, and Luhan feels positively nauseous. “Now, Luhan, I conduct business in three forms...”

“Seriously!? Aren’t you potty trained?! These are things you learn when you’re two!”

“I don’t know!” Chanyeol moans in horror, staring at the dirty brown stain on the couch. “I thought I could hold it, I just had one more page to grade and then it just- it just happened!” The taller male is now in a clean pair of sweatpants, but the on the couch is not as easy of a fix.

“You are cleaning this mess up by yourself! I am not touching your feces!”

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whines. “I’ll clean it up, just don’t leave me here alone with my poop! What if it transmits some sort of disease to me!?”

Baekhyun groans, throwing himself onto his carpet dramatically.