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erimeows · 5 months ago

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Again And Again (NSFW)

Seven shifts awkwardly, unsure of where he should direct his gaze as he lies in his bed. Vanderwood is to his right, and Seven is all too aware of what they’ve just done.

Alas, he can’t bring himself to say anything.

Apparently, Vanderwood can’t either.

The room is so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

The first time it happened, Seven was drinking after a long night of working on a project for the agency. For whatever reason, Vanderwood joined him. One drink turned into so many that they lost count and things went down that probably shouldn’t have. Seven remembers waking up in his bed by himself the next day with a bottle of water and two pain pills left on his nightstand, but no other trace of Vanderwood to be seen.

Part of him wondered if it was a dream, but the giant bite marks and hickeys on his chest, neck, thighs, and ass were living proof.

Fine, he thought. It’s one lousy hook up that he doesn’t even remember. Something that happens between coworkers all the time. As long as it doesn’t affect their work, it doesn’t matter.

Seven pretends that he doesn’t notice Vanderwood’s refusal to look at him for the following week, and he tries to move on. But then he drinks again. And then Vanderwood joins him in drinking again. And, with noticeably fewer drinks than it required the first time, they’re on the floor. Again.

This time, Seven wakes up on the couch with a blanket pulled over him and a cup of hot coffee on the table. Vanderwood is there, in the kitchen washing dishes to keep himself busy, but of course, they don’t talk about it.

Eventually, they start doing it without alcohol involved. Seven remembers each and every instance, now that they’re usually sober, and even finds himself looking forward to the occasional rendezvous. Still, neither of them talk about it.

Seven wants to talk about it. Or, sometimes he thinks he does. But what would he say? ‘Hey, that sex was phenomenal, let’s make this official?’ Or maybe ‘Hey, isn’t it weird that we fuck weekly but don’t ever actually talk about anything that isn’t work?’. Seven has no idea. Would Vanderwood even care? Maybe this is all just some plot to get his mind clear so he can be more productive. Or maybe Seven is just an easy, convenient target for Vanderwood’s stress relief.

Seven doesn’t know, and to be honest, he doesn’t really care. Trying to have an open dialogue with Vanderwood would be like pulling someone’s teeth out with a rusty spoon. They don’t really know each other, after all. Seven is an agent, and Vanderwood is his handler. They aren’t friends. They aren’t lovers. They’re coworkers.

What would be the point of anything more, anyway?

Seven lies in his bed, boxers clinging to his curvy hips as his golden eyes stay trained on Vanderwood- yes, that’s where he decided to direct his gaze, against his better judgment. The other man is still undressed, a lit cigarette dangling loosely between his lips. Seven’s bedroom reeks of sex and the chip bags and soda cans on the floor remain unscrutinized, for now. Vanderwood is too out of it from the sex- from Seven- to scold the hacker for the mess in his room. Seven smiles, knowing that once Vanderwood is out of his post-nut clarity, he’ll surely throw a fit about the disaster that is Seven’s home and go on yet another cleaning spree.

For now, though, things are peaceful. Seven thinks to roll from flat on his back to his side so he can curl up against Vanderwood’s chest, only to stop himself and wonder… Does he really want that, or is he following instinct now?

Seven isn’t sure that he likes Vanderwood. He likes the sex, and he likes having Vanderwood around, but the man is cold and doesn’t seem to understand Seven’s sense of humor at all. Seven doesn’t understand Vanderwood, just like Vanderwood doesn’t understand Seven. And maybe that’s the way it’s meant to be.

So, Seven finds himself surprised when the words, “You know, you don’t have to leave after we do this if you don’t want to,” fall from between his lips before he can stop himself from saying them.

Vanderwood’s face doesn’t change. No, the man is a trained informant used to doing undercover work. His expression is always still, unchanging unless he wants to get a point across- even then, every new face Vanderwood does make is extremely calculated.

Vanderwood sits up, tosses his legs over the edge of the bed, and lets his hair down. Seven almost assumes that Vanderwood isn’t going to bother with a reply until the man says-

“You shouldn’t tell people things like that. Might give a person the wrong idea.”

‘And what would the wrong idea be?’ Seven thinks the words, but freezes instead of speaking them aloud when Vanderwood glances back at him over one of his broad shoulders.

Seven swallows tightly, watching the muscles on Vanderwood’s back, shoulders, and arms flex and pull as he tugs his white t-shirt back over his body. Seven memorizes every detail of Vanderwood; every odd scar that maps over the other man’s sunkissed skin, those scars on his neck that Seven suspects are from cigarette burns, the gaudy cheetah print pattern that’s painted onto his long and immaculate fingernails.

Seven isn’t sure why he pays so much attention, but he does. He memorizes everything. Maybe in case this is the last time- in case Vanderwood finally decides to get tired of him and leave, or to report him to the agency for all of the rules he’s broken, or dies on a mission. Something terrible like that. And in that moment, Seven realizes… He would actually miss Vanderwood if he were to leave.

He realizes that he wants Vanderwood to stay.

And, worst of all, he realizes that he does, in fact, like who Vanderwood is as a person. Because even though Vanderwood threatens to tase him daily, he ensures that Seven is covered by a warm blanket and has water on his nightstand before he so much as thinks of leaving, and he ensures that he keeps coming back. Each and every time.

But Seven can’t say anything. Can’t voice it. He’s still speechless, a quality that’s so unlike him that he wants to scream out in frustration. Instead, he stays in the bed, simply watching as Vanderwood finishes getting dressed and exits the room without another word- or, even another glance in Seven’s direction.

Seven debates on what he should do after the revelation. He’s not in love with Vanderwood- no, it would take a lot for either of them to fall in love. He does, however, like the other agent, and as a result of that, he wants to get to know Vanderwood better than he does currently. After all, Seven wouldn’t have had sex with someone he didn’t like all that much- no matter the circumstances. He was an idiot not to put together his budding feelings for Vanderwood before things got this… Well, this far.

They fuck almost weekly, but Seven doesn’t even know basic things about Vanderwood like his favorite color, favorite foods, the kind of television he likes to watch, or any of his hobbies outside of making empty threats with a taser and vigorously cleaning his surroundings. It’s a little embarrassing, really, so the next week when Vanderwood is over, Seven decides to try and fix the issue.

“Hey, Vandy,” Seven calls out as he walks into the living room. It’s half past noon and he’s only just now getting up for the day- the norm for him since Vanderwood has been making him work most nights. Vanderwood is sitting on the couch with his computer in his lap, hair loose and freshly washed. Seven suspects that Vanderwood wears his hair long and down to cover the many scars on his neck and back, but he knows better than to ask about that this early on. Instead, he bounces further into the room, approaching Vanderwood from behind and draping his arms over the other man’s massive shoulders. “What’s your favorite color? Mine’s red!”

A typical strategy- offering information about himself first. Plus, it’s something as simple as a favorite color. Seven can ask about the deeper stuff later. What could go wrong?

Much to Seven’s surprise, Vanderwood ignores him, clicking and clacking away on his keyboard instead of giving any sort of answer to Seven’s question. Fine- whatever. Seven is good at getting what he wants out of people and has no problem with being annoying to achieve his goals.

“Hey, hey, hey-” Seven resorts to annoyance, now circling around the couch and sitting down far too close to Vanderwood. He wonders what Vanderwood is working on that’s so important, but the man had the foresight to put a privacy cover over his laptop, so Seven can’t see what’s on the screen. He frowns and pokes Vanderwood’s cheek repeatedly. “Vanderwood, Vanderwood, Vanderwood-”

“What? My God,” Vanderwood rolls his chesnut-hued eyes as he slaps Seven’s hand away. Seven pouts in response. “I’m trying to work, Agent Seven Zero Seven.”

“Ah, hitting me with the ‘Agent Seven Zero Seven’ today instead of ‘Seven’, huh? That’s not my name,” Seven playfully scolds, and is ignored once more. “What, are you just gonna ignore me?”

“Pretty much,” Vanderwood answers, as if it’s obvious. “Unlike you, I know better than to ignore my work.”

Seven pauses, racking his brain for a new strategy. He needs to get Vanderwood’s attention, and he needs to get Vanderwood to lose his composure. The easiest ways to do that are A) sex, B) things that are unhygienic, and C) things that could jeopardize Seven’s productivity or their jobs in general. If they simply hook up again without anything about the encounter changing, Vanderwood will leave like he has every other time and Seven will get nowhere on his quest for information. If Seven appeals to Vanderwood’s freakish obsession with cleanliness by doing something gross or making a mess, he’ll receive a cold shoulder born from disgust for the rest of the day… So, he does something that will make Vanderwood panic instead.

“Do you wanna know my name?”

“I don’t care about your name. It’s Luciel, anyway, isn’t it?”

“Nope,” Seven answers with a grin. “Saeyoung Choi.”

“You…” Vanderwood slams his laptop shut and sets the device on the coffee table in front of him before shooting a pointed glare in Seven’s direction. “What the hell are you getting at? You know, if the boss knew you were telling me these things, he’d torture or kill us.”

Seven internally cheers. Vanderwood has put his work down- Seven has his attention.

“And my legal birthday is-”

“Shut up!” Vanderwood interjects, raising his voice and slapping a hand over each ear. “Are you really trying to get us killed?”

“Oh, and I actually have a-”

“Shut up,” Vanderwood practically growls, to which Seven pauses. He can feel his cheeks turning red as Vanderwood grabs him by the hips and drags him onto his lap. “God, you’re something else. What’s with that shit eating grin of yours, huh?”

Seven laughs and adjusts his knees so they’re on either side of Vanderwood’s thighs, resting comfortably in the grooves of the couch cushion. Vanderwood’s hands remain locked like handcuffs on his waist.

“It’s so easy to rile you up.”

“You. You’re always dying for my attention… And it’s even worse than usual today. I have to wonder what it is you’re wanting out of this,” Vanderwood sighs. In an uncharacteristically tender display of affection, he reaches up with a single gloved hand and caresses Seven’s cheek. Seven leans into the touch before he can even process what he’s doing or how intimate this feels. It’s different than before. He wonders if Vanderwood likes him, too. “What you’re wanting out of me.”

“I want to get to know you,” Seven answers honestly, for once. He’s not sure why he’s being so candid. Offering up information about himself to get information in exchange- that’s what he tells himself. Deep down, though, opening up feels sort of… Good. He just hopes it doesn’t bite him in the ass. “Who are you outside of this?”

“This isn’t smart.”

Vanderwood starts to break. Seven can feel it; that deep down, Vanderwood wants to be honest with him, too. If he just pushes a little more, he’ll get what he wants- what he needs.

“Neither was sleeping with me to begin with. Doesn’t seem like you care all that much considering you keep coming back for more,” Seven points out. “Instead of reporting me to the boss for not doing my work, or asking for a reassignment, or anything else. You keep coming back- again and again, day after day, week after week.”

“You’re insufferable,” Vanderwood groans and tilts his head back into the couch to avoid Seven’s eyes.

“Then why do you keep sleeping with me?”

“Shut up, Seven,” Vanderwood whispers, retracting from Seven just enough to bury his head in his hands. “You know why.”

“I really don’t.”

Vanderwood puts his hands back on Seven’s hips, seemingly because he doesn’t know where else to place them. Seven doesn’t complain, instead leaning into the touch. He notices that Vanderwood is losing control of his calculated, calm demeanor and expressions when Vanderwood furrows his brow whilst struggling to come up with a decent response.

“Why would you be interrogating me like this, if you didn’t already know?”

“Because I want to know? Interrogating people is how you figure out things that you want to know,” Seven scoffs. “Duh.”

“No, asking people about things like a well adjusted human being is how you figure those things out… Instead of this weird tactic you’re doing.”

Seven blinks. They both know damn well that if Seven were blunt in how he chose to lure answers out of Vanderwood, Vanderwood wouldn’t respond. He’d shut down, maybe call Seven some nasty names, and storm out of the house.

“Are you stupid?” Seven laughs out the words, not really meaning them, but Vanderwood appears offended regardless as he pushes Seven off of his lap and stands up.

“Apparently, because I have no idea what the hell is going on with you- what, did you go and catch feelings?”

And, instead of leaving like Seven expects him to, Vanderwood paces the living room while waiting for the answer to his question.

“Shit, Vanderwood, I think I’ve had feelings,” Seven confesses, to which Vanderwood freezes in the middle of the living room and stares at him with wide brown eyes. When Vanderwood stays silent for an uncomfortable minute or so, Seven continues. “...You think I would’ve slept with you in the first place if I didn’t like you in some way? I don’t- I don’t just do that with people, y’know?”

“You can’t like me,” Vanderwood crosses his arms and shakes his head. “You don’t even know me.”

“I want to know you,” Seven quietly argues. “Because I like the person I’ve gotten to know so far, even if I don’t know much about you yet. Don’t you want to know more about me, too?”

“Hell, you really like me?”

“Uh, duh. That’s what I just said.”

“You’re annoying, but,” Vanderwood chuckles. The pleasant sound shoots straight to Seven’s heart, effectively making it skip a beat. “I do like you”

“Do you, uh,” Seven stammers as he tries to find the right words. Now that he’s really thinking about it, he realizes he’s never asked someone out on a proper date before. “Want to… Wanna… Maybe, um-”

“Jeez, with the kind of dirty talk you spew in bed and that entire interrogation you just put me through, I didn’t expect you to have trouble asking me to do something with you,” Vanderwood teases with a hint of a smirk and a smug look in his eyes. “But yeah, we can do something together. How about we go grab a bite to eat?”

“R-Really?” Seven questions.

Honestly, he didn’t expect this to go so well- let alone for Vanderwood to ask him on a date.

“Yeah,” Vanderwood nods. “Throw some decent clothes on and meet me outside in ten.”

Then, Vanderwood is walking off, leaving Seven on the couch to ponder just how well his strategy seems to have worked.

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marshmallowprotection · 2 years ago

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Now, Saeyoung Choi is my soulmate (no offense), but I can understand why Vanderwood gets upset when he procrastinates or doesn't listen. Co-workers who do Not communicate clearly are currently the bane of my existence.

In Vanderwood's defense, their lives are on the line. The hammer is thrown every time they don't do their work fast enough to please the bosses and the clients. Vanderwood is the one with the gun against their head and warns Saeyoung multiple times that this shit needs to get done or it's their heads that will roll, not the target. In some ways, I think they're taking the heat first because they're in charge of what Saeyoung does. They're supposed to be his mentor and partner, but mainly his lead that makes sure that he follows orders.

If a certain procrastinator decides that he wants to spend all of his time making a robot dog that breathes fire instead of running a case that involves getting rid of someone in high power... well, you can see why Vanderwood is pissed off all the time. Personally, I think most of the procrastination that comes from Saeyoung isn't simply a fact that happens because he's bored or lazy.

I genuinely think that he puts off so many of his projects because he knows that someone bad is going to win from this. He purposefully is making it harder on people to win after they put dirty money into the agency to succeed. It seems like something he would do because he definitely doesn't agree with most of the work projects that are given to him.

With Saejoong Choi implying in the After Ending that people like him pay into agencies for dirty work, I can only assume that it's someone like Saeyoung who has to look at that and either turn their head away or stomach whatever awful thing they gotta do. Most of them likely do turn their head away, knowing that agents value saving their asses and livelihood more than caring about the morality of all these things they do.

Vanderwood doesn't care about morality. They do whatever it takes to stay alive. Whereas, Saeyoung only went into this thinking that it would protect his brother... and if he wants to do that, you know he's damn determined to make sure that the world is a good place, trying to minimize as much of these shady people's dealings as he can. The chance of him being able to stop it is low, but he can minimize and it is one way he bites back and rebels against the agency.

Make note: He only started to procrastinate AFTER Rika showed him proof that Saeran was okay. So, he started to change his tune and the way he reacted to things knowing Saeran was as "Happy" and "Safe" as he could be. Vanderwood is the one that tells us that, given that it was annoying for them after Saeyoung transformed from "quiet and does his fucking work" to "masking and building procrastination bots that try to kill me."

But, in a true workplace, you know, the ones that aren't built on life or death? People need to communicate with each other and find means to get things done in a way that works. Make the adjustments, add accommodations for people, and talk to each other. That's the key to making a truly welcoming place to work that allows workers to feel understood and respected, instead of begotten and ignored by the management and their co-workers.

May Saeyoung lend you his fire-breathing dog.

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