Police Station
Title: Police Station C6
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG13
Genre: Drama, slight angst/humour?
Summary: In which Minho is a lawyer, worn down by the daily grind of work, until he meets a blonde boy in the overnight cell, guaranteed to change Minho's perspective in life.
1 2 3 4 5
Taemin was thankful that it was only Wednesday night, and it therefore meant that there were only a small amount of people outside, most presumably of friends and family shopping and eating outside. Minho was slightly more steady on his feet, an hour having passed since they left the restaurant (and therefore an hour of letting the alcohol pass through his body), and Taemin didn’t have to worry about dragging Minho through the streets drunk whilst trying to locate an apartment where he had never been before.
It didn’t help that Minho’s mind was still slightly intoxicated, and he grinned stupidly at the passerbys, making mothers clutch their children worriedly to their legs as they walked past. Taemin tugged on Minho’s sleeve impatiently, wanting to walk faster and get out of the eye sight of silently judging crowds. It wasn’t hard to get Minho to walk faster; after all, Minho’s legs were impossibly long and his drunken lope was still a challenge for Taemin to keep up with.
They reached the block of apartments that Minho lived in - it was in the outskirts of town, nearly in the seedy part of town yet still not, with what seemed like flowerpots sitting the balconies and ivy fingers climbing the red brick walls, and children’s toys left scattered, forgotten on the doorstep.
Minho trod on a piece of lego.
‘Shit.’
‘At least you’re wearing thick shoes,’ Taemin mused, stepping carefully over an army of toy soldiers arranged in combat.
Taemin groaned internally when Minho told him that his apartment was on the third floor, and that there were no elevators in the block. He let Minho go first, knowing that if he went first Minho would crash into him, and send both of them flying down onto steps that jutted out and create painful bruises and possible cracked skulls.
They stumbled up three flights of stairs with Taemin pushing slightly at the older’s back in order to encourage him to keep moving, keep going so long as he did not stop and fall asleep in a drunken stupor. Minho only tripped slightly at the steps; not enough to completely reunite him with the cold, unforgiving floor. They reached the third floor with some barely concealed patience from Taemin, and Minho shoved his hands into various pockets searching for the house keys, producing them with a flourish, and threw them up into the air so he could catch them again, but they slipped out of his hand, twirling gracefully down to the ground only to end with a loud clunk.
Minho looked confused, glancing from his hand to where the keys lay on the floor as if he could not understand what had happened, and as though his hands had some sort of magnet that would automatically guarantee that all keys would end up safely in his possession. Taemin rolled his eyes for what seemed like the fourteenth time that afternoon, and bent to pick it up. He sorted through the few keys on the key ring himself, refusing to hand over the bundle to Minho, and instead chose the one that seemed most likely to fit the lock.
The door clicked open, and Taemin gently pushed it open with his foot, hand automatically groping the sides of the wall in an attempt to find the light switch. He pressed a switch, only for an overhead fan to slowly whir to life. Frowning, he tuned it off and found another switch allocated next to it. The light flickered on, illuminating the room in a warm glow. Minho stumbled past him, sighing happily as he collapsed onto the brown leather sofa, settling his long limbs comfortably around himself. Taemin let his bag fall off his shoulders, placing it next to pairs of shoes and underneath a coat rack, remaining where he was and surveying his surroundings - and most importantly what kind of home Minho had.
It was simple, homely. He hadn’t expected Minho’s apartment to be like this, he had in fact expected some sort of bachelor pad with chrome furnishings and stonework counters, a black tiled floor and minimal decoration, devoid of any personalization. It actually reminded him a little of the home he had had with his parents - whilst it lasted. The room was full of beige, earthly colours, with a wooden floor and carpet which was an almost amber, with a near crimson tinge, reminding him of the games of don’t-touch-the-floor-of-lava he had played when he was younger. He wandered over to the bookcase that stood in the corner of the room, fingering the spines of the books, old classics he did not expect a lawyer to read, such as childhood bedtime stories - fairytales, in retrospect, that appeared to be well thumbed through and covers dog eared with age. There were also big, hardback books bound in leather and gold lettering with long and impossible titles that to Taemin, didn’t really have any meaning to them.
He glanced over to Minho, who was now flicking through the channels on the TV, long legs now propped up on the oval coffee table - under socked feet were a mess of papers, pens and paperclips that Taemin assumed he had been working on the previous night.
The curtains were open, and Taemin could see in the dying daylight children playing football in the nearby park, shouts and the sound of birds overhead reaching his ears. Teenagers were on the other side, gangly long limbs dribbling and dodging on a basketball court. He saw teenage girls with short skirts and perfectly styled hair on the benches, knowing smiles hidden behind manicured nails and coyly watching guys who were all too aware of their presence, jostling each other to get the ball in an attempt to show off.
Taemin often wondered what it would have been like if he had had a normal life, if he would have been one of those teenagers with spare money in their pockets to go to the cinema and buy ice cream to eat, whether or not he would have been in the ‘popular’ crowd at school and had a pretty girl hanging off his arm. He wondered if he would have had friends over frequently, perhaps even have a friend that he could call his best friend and share everything with.
Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, he smiled regretfully. This was his life now, and he knew he couldn’t spend his life hating his parents for leaving him. It was up to him what he would become in life, even if he did not have what other people consider as a normal upbringing. After all, he would create his own luck, and from his life so far, he thought he was fortunate to have hyungs that genuinely cared about him.
Laughter from the TV distracted him from the flurry of thoughts, and Taemin was momentarily startled, but relaxed when he knew where the noise was coming from.
‘Hey, Taemin-ah. Are you hungry? I’m hungry.’ Minho was half balanced the sofa now, one leg dangling off whilst one arm was wrapped around the back like an anchor.
‘Hyung, we just ate an hour ago.’
‘What’s your point? You eat when you’re hungry, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but-’
‘Hey, Taemin, I think I have chips in the cupboard. Go check!’
Minho did indeed have chips in the cupboard. A lot of chips. Several packets in fact, of an assortment of flavours. He dug an arm inside the cupboard curiously, wondering how many there were and if they really extended all the way to the back. They did, if the rough plastic scraping against his arm was anything to go by. He chose roast beef flavour, rearranging the remaining packets so they didn’t fall when he shut the door.
The man who was supposed to be a respectable lawyer had loosened his tie, and swung his legs off the coffee table to allow Taemin to edge in between it and the sofa, and he plopped down on the other end and set the bag between them. He took large handfuls of the chips, whilst Taemin picked at it, taking one at a time.
Minho turned his bleary eyes towards Taemin, brows furrowing as if he had forgotten something very important. ‘Didn’t you come over here to do something?’
‘To shower, hyung.’
His expression cleared. ‘Ah.’ There was a pause as Minho struggled to take in his thoughts.
‘So. Shouldn’t you shower?’
Taemin was surprised at how abrupt he was, and nodded hesitantly. Watching the older man fall back into his seat as he tried to get up, and he wondered why, of all nights, he had to be drunk tonight.
‘Don’t bother, hyung. I can find the bathroom by myself.’ He eyed Minho, who was now flattening the bag clumsily, mouth turned into a downwards frown. ‘Just…don’t do anything stupid.’
‘I’m not stupid!’
‘You are for drinking that second bottle of soju though.’
A light sparked in Minho’s eyes. ‘You know what, I think I have more soju in the fridge. Taemi-’
‘No. Hyung, just…go and have more chips or something,’ Taemin called over his shoulder as he walked down the hallway, pushing at one of the several doors to locate the bathroom. Bedroom, closet, study - bathroom. He figured Minho wouldn’t mind if he borrowed a towel; after all, he didn’t have anything else to dry himself on.
Apparently, Minho was one for male grooming, judging by the amount of toiletries present in the bathroom. Taemin opened them curiously, sniffing at each one and wrinkling his nose at one that smelled particularly of decaying flowers. They were things he had thought only girls would have in multiple quantities - body lotion, hair products, sprays and gels and waxes.
There were only the basics in the shower though; a combined shampoo and conditioner and shower gel. He decided that this must be what Minho used - it smelled of him, only more concentrated. Taemin turned on the shower before stepping in, not wanting to get either scalded or shocked by cold water when he stepped in.
The water was hot and pleasant, prickling sensitive skin and coursing down his body. It felt as though he could feel the water sluicing the dirt off his body, the water messaging his back and releasing the knotted tension from sleeping on that cot. Taemin used Minho’s shampoo - it smelt nice, he told himself, and he couldn’t help but feel that little bit manlier when he could smell the faint musk coming from his own body.
Wrapping a towel around his narrow hips, he walked out in search of clothes. Minho wouldn’t notice; he was sure that he was so drunk that he would think it was normal for a teenager to walk out half naked. Even so, his transition to the bathroom to bedroom was quick and unnoticed. Wearing his kigu again would be stupid, and Minho wasn’t that much taller than him - maybe only a head, so he didn‘t think that Minho would mind him borrowg his clothes either. The sweatpants he pulled on pooled around his feet, and the grey t shirt (of which Minho seemed to have multiples of) overlapped with his pants to cover his hipbones.
For some reason that he didn’t understand (and most probably didn’t want to know) Minho was found lying in the area between the bookcase and the sofa, a book of children’s bedtime stories lying on his chest. Taemin nudged his side with a foot, wondering if he was asleep and if he really had to drag him into bed as well.
He awoke with muttering of what Taemin thought sounded like incoherent cursing, and he offered a hand to pull him to his feet.
‘Brush your teeth and then to bed,’ Taemin ordered, taking charge.
Minho was obedient, and his movements were sleepy and jerky as he followed.
‘Hey, Taemin-ah. You should sleep with me. My bed is more comfortable than the floor. I should know.’
Taemin’s eyes flickered to the man in the mirror who had foam dripping down his chin, creating a beard.
‘What? It’s a double bed. Plenty of room.’
They finished brushing, and he wet a flannel towel and wiped the mess on Minho’s chin, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the stupid, goofy smile that spread across Minho’s lips.
Minho stumbled to the bedroom, hands searching blindly in front of him for the walls. He hesitated before lying on the bed, looking at the lump that already lay there. Taemin really didn’t like the possibility of Minho rolling over and squashing him, rendering it impossible to breathe. But the bed looked too inviting, with massive pillows and a thick, downy blanket that he wanted to burrow underneath.
He remembered the spare blankets he had seen in the closet, and dragged these to the room, proceeding to make a ‘barrier’ of sorts across the middle of the bed. He piled spare pillows high, rolling up a blanket and placing it between the lower part of the bed before flopping back into the mattress, worn out from the day before.
A/N: So. Guys.
I'M SO SORRY BUT I LOVE YOU NAEGACHILGAA.
I'm back. After a long while of not updating. But I'm back. OTL sorry this chapter is kinda crappy but hey crappy chapter is better than no chapter right?
And this what my friends got me for my birthday :3 Yep, my walls are covered with SHINee now :3
does anyone even read my A/Ns .__.
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG13
Genre: Drama, slight angst/humour?
Summary: In which Minho is a lawyer, worn down by the daily grind of work, until he meets a blonde boy in the overnight cell, guaranteed to change Minho's perspective in life.
1 2 3 4 5
Taemin was thankful that it was only Wednesday night, and it therefore meant that there were only a small amount of people outside, most presumably of friends and family shopping and eating outside. Minho was slightly more steady on his feet, an hour having passed since they left the restaurant (and therefore an hour of letting the alcohol pass through his body), and Taemin didn’t have to worry about dragging Minho through the streets drunk whilst trying to locate an apartment where he had never been before.
It didn’t help that Minho’s mind was still slightly intoxicated, and he grinned stupidly at the passerbys, making mothers clutch their children worriedly to their legs as they walked past. Taemin tugged on Minho’s sleeve impatiently, wanting to walk faster and get out of the eye sight of silently judging crowds. It wasn’t hard to get Minho to walk faster; after all, Minho’s legs were impossibly long and his drunken lope was still a challenge for Taemin to keep up with.
They reached the block of apartments that Minho lived in - it was in the outskirts of town, nearly in the seedy part of town yet still not, with what seemed like flowerpots sitting the balconies and ivy fingers climbing the red brick walls, and children’s toys left scattered, forgotten on the doorstep.
Minho trod on a piece of lego.
‘Shit.’
‘At least you’re wearing thick shoes,’ Taemin mused, stepping carefully over an army of toy soldiers arranged in combat.
Taemin groaned internally when Minho told him that his apartment was on the third floor, and that there were no elevators in the block. He let Minho go first, knowing that if he went first Minho would crash into him, and send both of them flying down onto steps that jutted out and create painful bruises and possible cracked skulls.
They stumbled up three flights of stairs with Taemin pushing slightly at the older’s back in order to encourage him to keep moving, keep going so long as he did not stop and fall asleep in a drunken stupor. Minho only tripped slightly at the steps; not enough to completely reunite him with the cold, unforgiving floor. They reached the third floor with some barely concealed patience from Taemin, and Minho shoved his hands into various pockets searching for the house keys, producing them with a flourish, and threw them up into the air so he could catch them again, but they slipped out of his hand, twirling gracefully down to the ground only to end with a loud clunk.
Minho looked confused, glancing from his hand to where the keys lay on the floor as if he could not understand what had happened, and as though his hands had some sort of magnet that would automatically guarantee that all keys would end up safely in his possession. Taemin rolled his eyes for what seemed like the fourteenth time that afternoon, and bent to pick it up. He sorted through the few keys on the key ring himself, refusing to hand over the bundle to Minho, and instead chose the one that seemed most likely to fit the lock.
The door clicked open, and Taemin gently pushed it open with his foot, hand automatically groping the sides of the wall in an attempt to find the light switch. He pressed a switch, only for an overhead fan to slowly whir to life. Frowning, he tuned it off and found another switch allocated next to it. The light flickered on, illuminating the room in a warm glow. Minho stumbled past him, sighing happily as he collapsed onto the brown leather sofa, settling his long limbs comfortably around himself. Taemin let his bag fall off his shoulders, placing it next to pairs of shoes and underneath a coat rack, remaining where he was and surveying his surroundings - and most importantly what kind of home Minho had.
It was simple, homely. He hadn’t expected Minho’s apartment to be like this, he had in fact expected some sort of bachelor pad with chrome furnishings and stonework counters, a black tiled floor and minimal decoration, devoid of any personalization. It actually reminded him a little of the home he had had with his parents - whilst it lasted. The room was full of beige, earthly colours, with a wooden floor and carpet which was an almost amber, with a near crimson tinge, reminding him of the games of don’t-touch-the-floor-of-lava he had played when he was younger. He wandered over to the bookcase that stood in the corner of the room, fingering the spines of the books, old classics he did not expect a lawyer to read, such as childhood bedtime stories - fairytales, in retrospect, that appeared to be well thumbed through and covers dog eared with age. There were also big, hardback books bound in leather and gold lettering with long and impossible titles that to Taemin, didn’t really have any meaning to them.
He glanced over to Minho, who was now flicking through the channels on the TV, long legs now propped up on the oval coffee table - under socked feet were a mess of papers, pens and paperclips that Taemin assumed he had been working on the previous night.
The curtains were open, and Taemin could see in the dying daylight children playing football in the nearby park, shouts and the sound of birds overhead reaching his ears. Teenagers were on the other side, gangly long limbs dribbling and dodging on a basketball court. He saw teenage girls with short skirts and perfectly styled hair on the benches, knowing smiles hidden behind manicured nails and coyly watching guys who were all too aware of their presence, jostling each other to get the ball in an attempt to show off.
Taemin often wondered what it would have been like if he had had a normal life, if he would have been one of those teenagers with spare money in their pockets to go to the cinema and buy ice cream to eat, whether or not he would have been in the ‘popular’ crowd at school and had a pretty girl hanging off his arm. He wondered if he would have had friends over frequently, perhaps even have a friend that he could call his best friend and share everything with.
Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, he smiled regretfully. This was his life now, and he knew he couldn’t spend his life hating his parents for leaving him. It was up to him what he would become in life, even if he did not have what other people consider as a normal upbringing. After all, he would create his own luck, and from his life so far, he thought he was fortunate to have hyungs that genuinely cared about him.
Laughter from the TV distracted him from the flurry of thoughts, and Taemin was momentarily startled, but relaxed when he knew where the noise was coming from.
‘Hey, Taemin-ah. Are you hungry? I’m hungry.’ Minho was half balanced the sofa now, one leg dangling off whilst one arm was wrapped around the back like an anchor.
‘Hyung, we just ate an hour ago.’
‘What’s your point? You eat when you’re hungry, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but-’
‘Hey, Taemin, I think I have chips in the cupboard. Go check!’
Minho did indeed have chips in the cupboard. A lot of chips. Several packets in fact, of an assortment of flavours. He dug an arm inside the cupboard curiously, wondering how many there were and if they really extended all the way to the back. They did, if the rough plastic scraping against his arm was anything to go by. He chose roast beef flavour, rearranging the remaining packets so they didn’t fall when he shut the door.
The man who was supposed to be a respectable lawyer had loosened his tie, and swung his legs off the coffee table to allow Taemin to edge in between it and the sofa, and he plopped down on the other end and set the bag between them. He took large handfuls of the chips, whilst Taemin picked at it, taking one at a time.
Minho turned his bleary eyes towards Taemin, brows furrowing as if he had forgotten something very important. ‘Didn’t you come over here to do something?’
‘To shower, hyung.’
His expression cleared. ‘Ah.’ There was a pause as Minho struggled to take in his thoughts.
‘So. Shouldn’t you shower?’
Taemin was surprised at how abrupt he was, and nodded hesitantly. Watching the older man fall back into his seat as he tried to get up, and he wondered why, of all nights, he had to be drunk tonight.
‘Don’t bother, hyung. I can find the bathroom by myself.’ He eyed Minho, who was now flattening the bag clumsily, mouth turned into a downwards frown. ‘Just…don’t do anything stupid.’
‘I’m not stupid!’
‘You are for drinking that second bottle of soju though.’
A light sparked in Minho’s eyes. ‘You know what, I think I have more soju in the fridge. Taemi-’
‘No. Hyung, just…go and have more chips or something,’ Taemin called over his shoulder as he walked down the hallway, pushing at one of the several doors to locate the bathroom. Bedroom, closet, study - bathroom. He figured Minho wouldn’t mind if he borrowed a towel; after all, he didn’t have anything else to dry himself on.
Apparently, Minho was one for male grooming, judging by the amount of toiletries present in the bathroom. Taemin opened them curiously, sniffing at each one and wrinkling his nose at one that smelled particularly of decaying flowers. They were things he had thought only girls would have in multiple quantities - body lotion, hair products, sprays and gels and waxes.
There were only the basics in the shower though; a combined shampoo and conditioner and shower gel. He decided that this must be what Minho used - it smelled of him, only more concentrated. Taemin turned on the shower before stepping in, not wanting to get either scalded or shocked by cold water when he stepped in.
The water was hot and pleasant, prickling sensitive skin and coursing down his body. It felt as though he could feel the water sluicing the dirt off his body, the water messaging his back and releasing the knotted tension from sleeping on that cot. Taemin used Minho’s shampoo - it smelt nice, he told himself, and he couldn’t help but feel that little bit manlier when he could smell the faint musk coming from his own body.
Wrapping a towel around his narrow hips, he walked out in search of clothes. Minho wouldn’t notice; he was sure that he was so drunk that he would think it was normal for a teenager to walk out half naked. Even so, his transition to the bathroom to bedroom was quick and unnoticed. Wearing his kigu again would be stupid, and Minho wasn’t that much taller than him - maybe only a head, so he didn‘t think that Minho would mind him borrowg his clothes either. The sweatpants he pulled on pooled around his feet, and the grey t shirt (of which Minho seemed to have multiples of) overlapped with his pants to cover his hipbones.
For some reason that he didn’t understand (and most probably didn’t want to know) Minho was found lying in the area between the bookcase and the sofa, a book of children’s bedtime stories lying on his chest. Taemin nudged his side with a foot, wondering if he was asleep and if he really had to drag him into bed as well.
He awoke with muttering of what Taemin thought sounded like incoherent cursing, and he offered a hand to pull him to his feet.
‘Brush your teeth and then to bed,’ Taemin ordered, taking charge.
Minho was obedient, and his movements were sleepy and jerky as he followed.
‘Hey, Taemin-ah. You should sleep with me. My bed is more comfortable than the floor. I should know.’
Taemin’s eyes flickered to the man in the mirror who had foam dripping down his chin, creating a beard.
‘What? It’s a double bed. Plenty of room.’
They finished brushing, and he wet a flannel towel and wiped the mess on Minho’s chin, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the stupid, goofy smile that spread across Minho’s lips.
Minho stumbled to the bedroom, hands searching blindly in front of him for the walls. He hesitated before lying on the bed, looking at the lump that already lay there. Taemin really didn’t like the possibility of Minho rolling over and squashing him, rendering it impossible to breathe. But the bed looked too inviting, with massive pillows and a thick, downy blanket that he wanted to burrow underneath.
He remembered the spare blankets he had seen in the closet, and dragged these to the room, proceeding to make a ‘barrier’ of sorts across the middle of the bed. He piled spare pillows high, rolling up a blanket and placing it between the lower part of the bed before flopping back into the mattress, worn out from the day before.
A/N: So. Guys.
I'M SO SORRY BUT I LOVE YOU NAEGACHILGAA.
I'm back. After a long while of not updating. But I'm back. OTL sorry this chapter is kinda crappy but hey crappy chapter is better than no chapter right?
And this what my friends got me for my birthday :3 Yep, my walls are covered with SHINee now :3
does anyone even read my A/Ns .__.