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writetomyheart2016-10-07 09:27 pm
jojibear.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2016-10-07 09:27 pm
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[Team SIX] overtime
This one's for you, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
feiling, you terrible enabler.
Inspired by this beautiful fanart.
I choose you,springmaid!
feiling, you terrible enabler.Inspired by this beautiful fanart.
In typical Hakyeon fashion, Taekwoon found his Royal Adviser bent over an almost completely filled up parchment when he entered the Adviser’s office.
It was well past the normal hours of work, the day’s bright, cloudless blue skies having long since given to star-speckled darkness, and the Prince knew not everyone who worked in his room was oblivious to this fact, if Sanghyuk’s soft snores from the secretary’s corner were anything to go by. But the chief object of his attention, the man whom he had entrusted to help with his life’s work, clearly was, and that just would not do.
So he approached the desk, shuffling as loudly as he dared to without waking Sanghyuk up, and he cleared his throat, rapping his knuckles against the wooden surface for good measure.
Hakyeon startled into the present, gasping as he jerked up to see who had disturbed his concentration.
“Your Majesty,” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet when he saw who it was. This appellation earned him a glower from Taekwoon, but Hakyeon shook his head firmly. “I am still in my office,” he said, gesturing to the piles of paper around him.
“I wish you were not,” Taekwoon murmured. “It is late, and you are still here.”
Hakyeon sighed, the sound heavy and resigned. “You know I do not have much choice in the matter. There are things I must finish before tomorrow morning’s session at Court. I cannot attend unprepared, Your Majesty; I cannot, and I will not do that to you, not when your appointment as successor to the throne is already in contention with the wishes of half of the Court. As your right hand man, I must work hard to show them that the King’s decision was not a lapse in judgement.”
It was Taekwoon’s turn to sigh, but when the Adviser turned his gaze upon the Prince, he found that while Taekwoon’s lips were still pursed together tightly, the dark expression had lost some of its severity. It looked more contemplative now, as though Taekwoon was seriously considering something.
“Your Majesty?” Hakyeon ventured, after some moments of silence.
Instead of getting an answer, however, the Adviser watched — first in confusion, then in amazement — as Taekwoon turned around the desk and moved towards the raised seating area under the window.
“I will wait here for you to finish your work,” he declared as he seated himself on Hakyeon’s customary cushion. “Do not take too long.”
In a daze, Hakyeon made a soft noise in the back of his throat to acknowledge that he had heard and understand Taekwoon’s words, and then he took his seat again, trying to — slowly, jarringly — pull his attention back to the parchment had had been busily penning before he had been disturbed.
For the first five minutes or so, Hakyeon forced himself to find his momentum again by reading and re-reading the last few sentences he had set down; he even managed to complete the sentence he had been interrupted in writing.
But eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he took a surreptitious glace over his shoulder to see Taekwoon playing with the empty tea set laid out on the small table between the two cushions.
It was such an endearing sight — the de facto Head of State turning the tiny lid of Hakyeon’s favourite clay teapot over and over between his long fingers — and it brought a smile of fond amusement to Hakyeon’s lips, but he could not help the confusion that bubbled to the forefront of his thoughts. As far as he knew, Taekwoon hated the platformed seating area he now sat on; his dislike of it had been apparent on his face when, on the afternoon after it had been installed, he had entered the room, caught sight of it, then proceeded to make Sanghyuk bring in a chair from outside. Every visit to the Royal Adviser’s office thereafter began with a request for the assistant to bring in a chair, to the point where Sanghyuk simply refused to return the seat to its original position.
Hakyeon had never managed to find a good opportunity to address this, but he knew Taekwoon well — too well, almost — so seeing the Prince sitting there…
His thoughts were interrupted when Taekwoon moved, and Hakyeon whipped back round to face his work, his cheeks reddening.
He thought he heard the Prince let out a soft chuckle as he pretended to slave away at the document in front of him.
It was well past the normal hours of work, the day’s bright, cloudless blue skies having long since given to star-speckled darkness, and the Prince knew not everyone who worked in his room was oblivious to this fact, if Sanghyuk’s soft snores from the secretary’s corner were anything to go by. But the chief object of his attention, the man whom he had entrusted to help with his life’s work, clearly was, and that just would not do.
So he approached the desk, shuffling as loudly as he dared to without waking Sanghyuk up, and he cleared his throat, rapping his knuckles against the wooden surface for good measure.
Hakyeon startled into the present, gasping as he jerked up to see who had disturbed his concentration.
“Your Majesty,” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet when he saw who it was. This appellation earned him a glower from Taekwoon, but Hakyeon shook his head firmly. “I am still in my office,” he said, gesturing to the piles of paper around him.
“I wish you were not,” Taekwoon murmured. “It is late, and you are still here.”
Hakyeon sighed, the sound heavy and resigned. “You know I do not have much choice in the matter. There are things I must finish before tomorrow morning’s session at Court. I cannot attend unprepared, Your Majesty; I cannot, and I will not do that to you, not when your appointment as successor to the throne is already in contention with the wishes of half of the Court. As your right hand man, I must work hard to show them that the King’s decision was not a lapse in judgement.”
It was Taekwoon’s turn to sigh, but when the Adviser turned his gaze upon the Prince, he found that while Taekwoon’s lips were still pursed together tightly, the dark expression had lost some of its severity. It looked more contemplative now, as though Taekwoon was seriously considering something.
“Your Majesty?” Hakyeon ventured, after some moments of silence.
Instead of getting an answer, however, the Adviser watched — first in confusion, then in amazement — as Taekwoon turned around the desk and moved towards the raised seating area under the window.
“I will wait here for you to finish your work,” he declared as he seated himself on Hakyeon’s customary cushion. “Do not take too long.”
In a daze, Hakyeon made a soft noise in the back of his throat to acknowledge that he had heard and understand Taekwoon’s words, and then he took his seat again, trying to — slowly, jarringly — pull his attention back to the parchment had had been busily penning before he had been disturbed.
For the first five minutes or so, Hakyeon forced himself to find his momentum again by reading and re-reading the last few sentences he had set down; he even managed to complete the sentence he had been interrupted in writing.
But eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he took a surreptitious glace over his shoulder to see Taekwoon playing with the empty tea set laid out on the small table between the two cushions.
It was such an endearing sight — the de facto Head of State turning the tiny lid of Hakyeon’s favourite clay teapot over and over between his long fingers — and it brought a smile of fond amusement to Hakyeon’s lips, but he could not help the confusion that bubbled to the forefront of his thoughts. As far as he knew, Taekwoon hated the platformed seating area he now sat on; his dislike of it had been apparent on his face when, on the afternoon after it had been installed, he had entered the room, caught sight of it, then proceeded to make Sanghyuk bring in a chair from outside. Every visit to the Royal Adviser’s office thereafter began with a request for the assistant to bring in a chair, to the point where Sanghyuk simply refused to return the seat to its original position.
Hakyeon had never managed to find a good opportunity to address this, but he knew Taekwoon well — too well, almost — so seeing the Prince sitting there…
His thoughts were interrupted when Taekwoon moved, and Hakyeon whipped back round to face his work, his cheeks reddening.
He thought he heard the Prince let out a soft chuckle as he pretended to slave away at the document in front of him.
I choose you,
springmaid!
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