acatwhowrites: (Taohun♡bros)
A Cat Who Writes ([personal profile] acatwhowrites) wrote2013-11-20 11:22 pm

She's Always a Woman to Me

title: She's Always a Woman to Me
players: Wu Yifan/Kris (Kristina), Park Chanyeol
word count: 1,000
rating: PG
summary: Chanyeol's not used to seeing Kris in a dress.
a/n: Written for this prompt on the EXO prompt meme. Title from the Billy Joel song of the same name.





Chanyeol is asleep on the sofa when his girlfriend returns home. He wakes with a snort and quick swipe at his mouth, embarrassed to find he’d been drooling again.

“Chanyeol?”

“Yeah! Living room.” He sits up and stretches,yawning and lacing his fingers together and pulling them behind his head while thrusting his chest out until his vertebra cracked.

“You fell asleep on the sofa again? Where’s your shirt?”

“That’s a good question,” he chuckles and turns to give his girlfriend a kiss. The smile falls from his lips, taking his entire face with it and leaving him slack-jawed.

Kris hangs her coat on a peg and notices him staring out of the corner of her eye. She frowns, looking around her in concern. “What?”

“What happened to you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re wearing a dress!” He stands on his knees. “And heels! Oh, are you even wearing a slip?” he asks scandalously.

She slaps his hand away. “Mitts off. I had an interview, is all. . .” She fidgets, looking down at her feet, up at his face, and quickly back to her feet or the wall, cheeks flushed pink. “I’m gonna go change.”

“Hey, wait! Let me see properly. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“A picture will last longer,” she retorts.

Chanyeol pats his pockets and rummages in the cushions for his cell phone.

“No pictures!” Kris dashes—as much as she can dash in high heels; it’s more like a quick trot while leaning back to stay balanced—to their bedroom.

Their door doesn’t lock, so Chanyeol can easily follow her inside, camera ready.

The camera flashes. Kris drops her arms to her chest, dress bunched around her wrists. “Chanyeol!”

“I’m keeping this one.” He looks satisfied. The photo is kind of dark, but it’s still clear enough to see Kris with her dress pulled over her head, hair falling back down to her shoulders and slip riding up her thighs.

She frowns at him, hanging her dress in the closet and pulling the straps of her slip off her shoulders. The silk falls down her body to pool at her feet as she walks to the bed and sits to struggle with the tiny buckles on her shoes.

After struggling without success, Kris flops backwards onto the bed and raises her leg. “Chanyeol.”

He takes the opportunity to snap another picture—followed by memory-making one of her unenthused expression—and takes her foot gently. Bracing it against his thigh, he makes remarkably quick work of the buckles and tosses the shoes into the back of the closet. He doubts Kris will ever wear them again. He didn't know she even owned heels.

“I never want to wear those again.”

“They made your legs look nice, at least. Well,” he amends, stroking up her calf with his fingertips, “nicer.”

Kris bites her lips, hiding her pleased grin, and gets up on her elbows. “C’mere.” She holds out an arm.

Chanyeol takes her hand and allows himself to be pulled on top of his girlfriend. He keeps his weight on his elbows on either side of her head.

She threads her arms inside his biceps and wraps around his neck, peppering his face with little kisses.

He notices her knee bending beside his hip and traces a hand down her thigh. Her abdominals tense under his fingers, shivering and sending her nerves in a ticklish frenzy. “What, you’re ticklish?” he feigns surprise.

She gives him a warning look, which he ignores, and sits up on his knees, trailing his fingertips over her exposed stomach, fingers gripping her sides and dipping feather-soft along her ribs.

Her shrieks and pleas for him to stop end when a gurgley growl rumbles from her stomach.

The couple stare at her belly, wide-eyed.

“Are we hungry?” Chanyeol asks lightly.

“I didn’t eat breakfast this morning,” Kris admits. “I was way too nervous.” She sits up and pushes his shoulder. “Go make me food while I get dressed.”

“Why can’t you just stay in this?”

She slaps his arm. “I could just make myself something. . .”

Chanyeol stands abruptly. “We can’t afford another microwave.”

Kris smiles and hums in agreement. She watches her boyfriend amble out of their room and rummages beneath the pillows for her pyjamas. She finds her sweatpants, but her shirt has probably disappeared into the depths of the darkness beneath their bed.

One of these days, they need to clean under there. It is too easy to let “things” accumulate and find their own homes, but sometimes he or she wastes a lot of time searching for those “things” when they’re needed.

All of their sweaters and sweatshirts hang somewhat neatly in the closet, at least, so it’s easy to reach in blindly and pull on whatever she grabs. She pulls her arms into the shirt, shimmying her shoulders a bit, and thrusts her arms back through the sleeves, bra in hand. It follows her slip to the pile of laundry in the corner of the room as she leaves.

Chanyeol is making ramen at the stove when she joins him, standing on tip-toes and wrapping her arms around him from behind. She nestles her chin on his shoulder, observing him work. The smell of the soup makes her stomach grumble again.

“You really looked amazing in that dress. You should dress like that more often. Just, you know, not when you have to go out.”

“Why not when I go out?”

“Because other people get to look at you, then,” Chanyeol chuckles. “I want to keep that to myself.”

Kris can feel his laugh through his back to her chest. She squeezes him tighter and stretches so her lips brush his ear. “Then you’d better keep that photo to yourself, because if I find out you’ve been sharing ... .” Her arms clamp like a vice just long enough for Chanyeol to cough in understanding. “You will be sleeping on the sofa for a month.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kisses his neck and waits patiently for her food, toeing the hem of his jeans absently.

Chanyeol grabs a bowl from the dish drainer and fills it with soup, then waddles to the kitchen table with Kris still attached to his face. “Would you do that, though? Wear a dress for me?”

She sits down and shovels her chopsticks into the bowl. “Maybe. Depends on how good you are.”

Chanyeol clasps his hands together and promises himself that he will be on his best behaviour from that moment on.