#THIS IS RECONCILLIATION NUMBER 2390 BTW

[wildelydawn]

🦇 Trick ~or~ Treat! 👻

My Atlas <3 Once upon a time, years (a year) ago, I wrote (parts) of this in my messages with Shou. And now, my dear, my friend, you get the full glimpse of my KimChay WIP, titled, "Chay Punches Kim."

-

“You should punch him in the face.”

Porchay and Macau turn towards Vegas. “What?”

“Your brother punched me in the face,” Vegas says casually, as if Porsche went around punching people for shits and giggles. “It really solidified that I should apologize to Pete."

Porchay folds his arms. “I’m not gonna take advice from the guy who kidnapped me.”

“Suit yourself,” Vegas shrugs. “I’m not sleeping alone tonight.”

“Ouch,” Macau whistles. Porchay nudges him, but Macau shoves him playfully. “Oh, please. You’re the one always complaining about how Kim has the emotional range of a circus clown. My brother, on the other hand, is completely pathetic-”

“Hey!”

“He cried in front of Pete the other day over-”

Vegas clamps his hand over Macau’s mouth. “As my brother was saying,” Vegas cuts in cheerfully. “Kim’s love language is violence. You should punch him. Then he’ll understand.”

-

Porchay is outside Kim’s apartment. He hasn’t been here in months, and quite frankly, it’s a little hard to even look at Kim’s door.

Would he even answer?

And am I really going to do this?

Before he can talk himself out of it, Porchay knocks loudly on Kim’s door, thinking that if he can’t hit Kim, at least he can yell at him.

And when the heavy gray door swings open, and Kim’s face comes into his view, the younger Kittisawat’s mind goes utterly blank. They stare at each other for a brief moment before Porchay remembers he’s supposed to be hitting Kim. So he draws back his fist, and thwack.

Porchay’s fist awkwardly makes contact with Kim’s chest. Kim barely flinches, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. And Porchay is so aware that his punch was nothing like how Porsche must have punched Vegas, because Kim is looking at him as if he's butt-naked and covered in chocolate sauce.

An even worse awkward silence falls between them before Kim clears his throat. “You can do better than that,” he says, before closing the door.

“What?”

“Try again,” Kim calls out from the other side.

This makes Porchay even angrier. How dare Kim treat him like he’s… like-

Porchay bangs on the door. Kim swings it wide open, and Porchay draws his fist-

Only to see Kim gracefully dodge, once, twice, and when Porchay swings again, Kim steps backward, and Porchay falls forward, right into Kim’s foyer. 

Kim has a smirk on his face, or at least a laugh, and it just makes Porchay’s chest ache, seeing Kim all happy while he’s suffering alone in the Main House.

So Porchay kicks Kim, right in the shin.

Kim immediately drops to a knee, crouched over and holding onto his leg.

Porchay is on the ground with him in seconds. “Oh, God, P’Kim! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Kim looks up, grins, and sweeps Porchay’s leg. Chay falls flat on his back, and before he can blink, Kim collects his wrists, holds them above his head, wedges a knee between Chay’s legs, and leans in close to his face.

“Never assume your opponent will fight fair.”

Chay’s face warms over. “L-let go of me!”

Kim does, only to have Chay crash right back into him, his head banging painfully on his hardwood floors. Now Chay’s on top of him, the victory on his face looking quite attractive as Chay sits on Kim’s hips.

“You were saying?”

Kim holds up his hands and turns away from Chay. “You win, you win. Just get off me-”

“Why? Why should I ever listen to anything you have to say-”

“Chay, please-”

“You’re the one who made my life-”

“Chay.”

“What!?”

Kim doesn’t say anything: just keeps his face turned away. But a pink flush overcomes his cheeks, and suddenly, Chay is very aware of how close their hips are, and how Kim’s dick is quickly hardening right under his ass.

“Oh.”