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His fingers were flying over the keyboard of his laptop like a danse only he knew the moves of. His eyes focused on each new line of code, the reflection of the screen making his eyes look shiny as focus took him over completely. He enjoyed when Baek-Jeong was out with all his men, it gave more time to Alan to work, stalk or just do whatever he wanted without someone watching him constantly.
He entered a final line of code and watched the screen move in front of him. Satisfied with his work he reached out to grab a can on the side of his desk and open it, only to find the last can of energy drink already empty.
As Alan was about to get up from his chair, glass shattered behind his bedroom door, further away in the main penthouse room. Someone was in the kitchen and he wasn’t expecting Baek-Jeong to be back so early. The night had barely taken over the city, the bustling noises of the day calming down as the moon rose up in the sky.
He didn’t expect to see what he saw upon entering the open kitchen area.
You were hunched over the counter, head above the sink, breathing hard. Somehow you heard his rather quiet footsteps on the marble floor and turned around too fast, grunting from the effort.
From that angle Alan couldn't see much of you except your face, bloodied and bruised. Strands of hair plastered to your skin by a layer of sweat, your braid a mess sticking to your neck. A shattered glass was at your feet, bits and pieces everywhere like a broken kaleidoscope reflecting the dim lighting of the kitchen.
You hadn’t turned on the big lights and neither did Alan, preferring the anonymity the dark gave you. One thing you didn’t know you had in common.
He took a few steps toward you once he realised it was just you, coming back from that job the boss had sent you on. It had been a few hours, and as Alan took in the state of your face and blood stained clothes, things didn’t go as smoothly as planned.
“What happened?” Were his first words to you with his deep almost broken voice and his accent, laced with concern and worry. You couldn’t truly decide if he was worried about you or worried about Baek-Jeong if you failed at the job he gave you. You decided on the latter, as it was more probable.
“Don’t worry, the job is done.” Your voice was flat, devoid of emotion, proof of the tiredness taking over your body. Alan didn’t know the specifics of the job you’d been tasked with, but he knew you and that you were a damn good fighter. As good as Taegeon. So he suspected that it had been a long day for you and the only thing you wanted was to go to sleep.
He eyed you for a second, thoughts racing. You needed help with all the cuts and blood covering your body. So he walked around the smashed glass, coming to you on your other side forcing you to turn around and shift your stance. You grunted again as the movement made you wince.
“You need to get checked out by the doc.” He said and from this close you could actually see his face more clearly. His eyes showed more worry than he probably intended to.
“Ain’t no way I let that creep touch me.” You said with a huff. You hated that guy, either it was because you didn’t trust him or because you knew he dealt with body trafficking on the dark web and a wave a disgust washed over you. Either way you disliked him, he gave you the creep.
Alan let out a sigh, as if exasperated by your words. Holding out one of his hands for you to take, he said “C’mon on then. You still need to clean up the wounds.”
You first instinct was to reach out and take his hands, but you were still in fight mode and your brain was struggling to recognise Alan as an ally right now.
“Why do you care? You’re not a nurse. I can take care of myself.”
“I know. I just want to help because I do care.”
You threw him a glance, your dark eyes even darker in the shadow of the night.
“What?” He looked at you with his piercing eyes and for a hot second you felt yourself lost in contemplation.
You’d always find him cute, attractive, his presence so calming somehow, ever since that first day Baek-Jeong introduced you to the rest of his team.
“What? You think I’m a cold, calculating psycho?” One of his eyebrows was curled up and you could practically see the trace of a smirk he was desperately trying to hold back, his eyes glimmering mischievously.
You couldn’t decide if he was joking or really offended by your judging gaze. So you made a face, half-half. He dismissed it like he didn’t give a damn about what you thought of him, and you let him lead you towards the corridor. The various bedroom doors were closed except for his, he led you inside and closed the door, then walked toward another door at the opposite end of his room.
You entered the private bathroom reluctantly. “So you have some nurse skills I don’t know about?” You asked him while he rumaged through drawers until he found a first aid kit.
You didn’t know why you were trying to strike up a conversation, or maybe it was your nerves after such an intense day, but you ached to hear his voice and that ever so subtle korean accent when he pronounced some words in English.
Baek-Jeong had recruited you in another part of the world and you didn’t speak Korean, so you were bound to wait in silence whenever him and his men talked. It made you feel left out, and you knew it wasn’t good for business that you couldn’t speak a word of Korean.
You had wanted to ask someone to teach you, but the thought alone made you shy. As if the big bad spy and assassin under Baek-Jeong command was scared to ask for help.
Maybe it was because you didn’t want to be perceived as weak, and often times asking for help came with a price, you knew that.
Alan made you sit on the edge of the bathtub while he retrieved a wet clean cloth. He came closer and stared at your bloodied arms, the dark red hues mixing with the black ink of your tattoos.
You made a move to reach out and grab the wet cloth but he took it away. “Just let me. Show me where you’re hurt.”
“Not all that blood is mine, I’m fine.” You huffed, tired.
He snorted, “Yeah you looked fine hunched over the sink.”
His words were laced with sarcasm and you finally found the usual Alan. The other softer version that offers to help, you’re not used to it. It feels strange.
But you don’t say anything and watch in silent disbelief as he slowly drops to his knees in front of you, putting him eye level with you sitting on the edge of the tub.
He spent some time cleaning the dirt and blood off of your skin with the wet cloth, gently and silently while you watched him like a creep. Totally not a crush on the cute psycho internet boy working for your boss, nope. Putting disinfectant and gauze on various cuts. Then his eyes shift to your face for the first time since he started treating your wounds.
His eyes roam over your features while he uses another cloth to wipe the blood and see more clearly where you’re hurt. There’s a cut above one of your eyebrows, blood trickled down your face and on the bathroom floor as Alan wiped it with disinfectant.
The room falls silent as his warm hands are on your face, putting ointment on the cut to help heal the skin. His fingertips brushes the skin of your temple, shivers coursing through you.
“Breathe or you’ll pass out.” He says matter-of-factly.
How had you not realised that you’d been holding your breath the moment his fingers touched your face.
“I’m breathing, but thank you for your concern, nurse Alan.” You tried something funny or sarcastic, but it didn’t land right. His hands pause and he looks at you. Then he straightens up and takes his hands off your face.
Without realising it you let out a deep exhale. You heard it. He heard it. He saw the movement of your chest as you started breathing again. And you cursed him silently for being so damn observant.
“Sure. You’re breathing just fine when I'm not touching you.”
You almost choked at his words but held it back, hiding behind a cough. And his sly smirk is tugging at the corner of his lips again, the silver ring there catching the light with the movement, your eyes drawn to it immediately.
You’ve always wondered what it feels like, this metallic ring in the corner of his lower lip. Would it be cold against your own lips and skin or warm from his body heat.
You forced yourself to close your eyes and turn your head to look away staring at the black tile of the bathroom walls, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of having you flustered.
You felt him move before you heard him, he shuffles closer again, still on his knees, one hand under your chin to force you to face him.
“What’s wrong, killer? You don’t like me?”
Your mouth falls open and closes a couple of times. Your brain scrambles to say something but his words are playing on repeat in your ears. That nickname, that tone in his words and the smile tugging at his lips.
He was definitely having fun, watching you get more and more flustered, almost squirming to get away from him.
His thumb is moving on your jaw, his grip not so tight that you wouldn’t be able to get free if you so wished. But you didn’t. You were exactly where you wanted to be even if you were shy like you never had been in your life.
He suddenly leaned closer, the chain around his neck dangled free from under his t-shirt and swayed lightly with his movements. You watched him closely, his beautiful eyes traveling over your face, stopping a little bit longer on your lips before coming back up to meet your gaze.
You tried to convince yourself that you imagined the way you saw his eyes darken when he looked down at your mouth, the way he licked his own lips making his piercing move. You know he saw you looking down too, because he smiles like the devil. His smile is soft but also so wicked that you think he is going to laugh in your face and make fun of you.
You’re lost, you don’t feel your body anymore, your entire attention focused on his hand still holding your face and the contact with his skin makes yours tickle with anticipation. Need? Want? It seemed that all your nerves end at that singular point where he's touching you.
Before you knew it he leans in even closer and you feel his hair tingling your forehead. His hand angles your face a little, making your nose bump into his softly. You feel his breath on your cheek and the ever-delicate graze of his lips on yours, like a ghost.
“So?” His voice is soft and low but it takes you by surprise nonetheless. Damnit, you loved his rough low voice.
Your eyes that were unabashedly staring at his mouth so close to yours, snap up to meet his intense gaze in confusion. He saw it and with a soft laugh from deep within his throat, and you saw his Adam Apple moving to the sound, he clarified. “You don’t like me?”
You didn't reply, you couldn't reply. You felt as if your brain had shut down entirely, leaving you stranded in this situation that makes you panic but also makes you feral inside.
He cock his head on one side, curiosity written all over his face.
“Answer me.” He said it like a command, not a demand, and it seemed to unlock your brain finally.
“Why do you care what I think about you?” Your voice was merely but a whisper, and you wondered why you were both speaking so softly when there’s no one around. But you didn't complain, you liked the effect his deep voice had on you. Not that you’d ever admit it to anyone.
“I don’t. I just want to know what’s going on in your head. Why you’re always looking at me with that look on your face.”
“I don’t always look at you.”
“Not me, killer. You can fool anyone but not me.”
He said it like you already belonged to each other despite that you had never truly been close, until now.
And that nickname again. Like he knows you could switch things around and have him pinned under you or against the wall in one motion. Like he knows just how dangerous you can be and somehow he isn't afraid. Even though you’re still geared up and you could easily reach for one of your blades and threaten him.
“Why are you doing this?” You asked, your voice coming more weak than you intended and you internally cringe.
“Doing what? That?” and without giving you time to process his words or answer, he lean in closer again and brushes his lips against yours once before actually kissing you. It’s not a desperate kiss, but rather a soft tentative one but still firm enough to show you that he wants this. He actually wants to kiss you. It feels like he’s asking if you want this too.
Without thinking twice you kissed him back, moving your head to meet his lips again before he can pull away. And slowly the kiss became more frantic, more passionate. Clash of teeth and tongues. You felt him biting your lower lip gently and when he kisses you again you felt his piercing and wondered how it must feel.
Judging by how he moved against you, it probably doesn’t hurt. You brought up a hand to catch the wrist that had been holding your face in place. It slid from your chin to the side of your neck, and when he squeezed your throat lightly, sparks shot through you.
You squeezed his wrist in return. You other hand reached out to grab the back of his head, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck as the kiss deepened. His breathing hot on your skin.
You felt the tingling sensation of the small cut on your lower lips as the wound reopened slightly, a metallic taste slowly tangling around your mouth.
And he must have tasted it too because he pulled back just enough to gaze at your lips, a thumb brushing over it in a soothing motion.
When his eyes met yours, he flashed you his devastating smile again, making you weak in the knees. Your eyes devour his face as he lean back and you frown at the loss of his fingers on your skin. You want to say something but nothing comes to your mind. It’s like your brain had been numbed by his kiss and whatever drug he had on his lips. But you knew there wasn't any drug involved.
You watch as he gets up from his position, handing you out his hand with a beckoning smile.