Title: Lord Have Mercy on the Buttons
Pairing: Kris/Any (written in second person)
Rating: PG-13 for later implications?
A/N: fml FINALS and yet this happens. SIGH.
Lord Have Mercy on the Buttons
Of all things in this world that are not okay, this is definitely in the top ten.
He walks through the front door entirely too casually with exhaustion hanging heavy in his eyes, effortlessly hanging his keys on a hook you have to tip-toe to reach and fluffing his hair when you see it- just a sliver of the white dress shirt he bought last week peaking through the opening of his black jacket and hugging his chest like you desperately wanted to. It only gets worse when he walks further into the room and attempts to remove said black jacket. His shoulders pull back as his long arms loop around behind him to grab the opposite sleeve, the opening of his coat splitting further to reveal the white dress shirt below, pearly buttons pulling the fabric tight and straining to hold on.
It’s out before you can even think to stop it, but to Yifan’s credit, he only quirks an eyebrow at you and slides his jacket the rest of the way off as if he wasn’t driving you completely insane.
“Babe,” you call out to him, more consciously this time as he brushes past you and continues into the kitchen to snag a water bottle from the fridge. Again he quirks an eyebrow at you and pairs it with a hum of acknowledgment as he gulps the water down, head back and throat working around each swallow like oh hell no.
You feel something in your face twitch. “Babe… how much did your shirt cost?” you call innocently enough. He pauses for a split second, glances down at the white fabric, shrugs. Your eye definitely twitches this time. “Was it expensive?” you ask slowly, this time stepping closer to him and prying the bottle from his hand to toss it carelessly to the counter.
His eyebrows furrow, bending together in confusion as you come to a stop right in front of him and run your fingers lightly across those poor white buttons. “Umm, I don’t think so?” he answers, and oh my God sometimes he’s so dumb it actually hurts.
You exhale sharply through your teeth and try again. “Do you want to keep it?” you ask before he can get another breath out.
“Do you. want. to keep. your shirt?” Your fingers tighten unmercifully around his collar and you swear if he doesn’t catch on within the next five seconds you’re going to explode.
“Um. I guess? Why would I buy it if I didn’t want-”
He never was very good at this part, you muse. You rise up on your toes to press your lips flush against his jawline as it’s still moving around his words, delicate skin skimming over the soft curve just as he cuts himself short. “I want to rip it off of you,” you whisper, and now you’ve got his attention.
He freezes in your hold and you feel his throat work around another swallow as his breathing becomes shallow. “Oh,” he says softly, and a smirk spreads across your face.
“Oh,” you echo back with enough restraint as you can muster right before gripping the other side of his pristine white collar and tearing it apart.
A/N2: so this only took me like less than 10 minutes and i guess this was my celebration for clearing my first final super early? :D?