Police Station [ON HIATUS]
Title: Police Station C7
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.
A/N: unbeta'ed, as in REALLY unbeta'ed, as in I didn't even read through it to check for spelling mistakes I'm sorry but I'M TIRED AND I STILL NEED TO DO THINGS.
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The sunlight seemed to glare more harshly than it ever had before, and it painted Minho’s eyelids a bright red crimson that was painful for him to even try to look at, and he groaned as he buried his face in his pillow again. His mind was muffled and drowsy, last night’s alcohol now bringing pain to his head and a faint ringing to his ears. His elbow nudged something soft, though, and he glanced over to his side where he discovered a mountain of pillows and blankets and a half naked Taemin.
He panicked then, struggling to remember last night’s activities and wondering why Taemin didn’t have a shirt on and what on earth had happened to his kigu that he normally (Minho assumed) slept in. He checked under his own blanket quickly, and was relieved to see that his own pants were on. The bed was too warm though, and he was suffering under the blankets that had collapsed on top of him and kicked them off.
The movement of the mattress must have been bigger than he thought, and his bed sharer stirred, rubbing sleepy eyes with fists and looking blearily around at his surroundings. Minho noticed firstly that Taemin’s mouth was still puffy and swollen from sleep, and his bed hair was ruffled with tufts sticking out, but it wasn’t even bad bed hair - it was the type that stylists and teenage boys would spend hours on to achieve.
‘Uh. Taemin.’ He gestured to his naked torso. ‘Um. What exactly happened last night?’
Taemin glanced down, and groaned. ‘Urgh. This happened again?’
‘Woah. Wait. What happened again? Why are there so many pillows on my bed? Why are you naked?’
He laughed at this, way more amused than the current situation really should allow him to be. ‘Don’t worry, Minho. We didn’t sleep together. Not like you would bend that way, anyway.’ He laughed again light heartedly.
‘And me being naked? I have this really annoying habit of taking my clothes off whilst I sleep. Sorry about that, look, I still have my pants on though,’ he said, whipping off the blanket.
And so Minho’s attention was drawn to Taemin’s legs, which were exposed due to the fabric being rolled up to above knee height, exposing the slender swell of his calves - dancer’s legs, almost, and the fine hair that feathered his legs.
‘Oh. I see.’ He tore his gaze away from Taemin, feeling the scarlet flush his cheeks and making excuses about having to get ready to work, lurching his way off the bed as he tried to stumble his way to the bathroom.
‘Oh, ok.’ Taemin hopped off the bed nimbly, picking up the discarded shirt on the floor and threading his arms through the holes. ‘I’ll make breakfast for you whilst you shower. You’re gonna need it today, after drinking so much last night.’
‘It’s alright, you’re probably still tired. Go back to bed.’ It felt weird to Minho saying this, unaccustomed to sharing his mornings with another person. It also fluttered into his mind that this was what being married would feel like, with a wife to cook him breakfast rather than him ending up having to run again without even a hastily drunk cup of coffee.
‘Nonsense,’ Taemin waved away his excuse, stretching his arms way above his head so that his stomach was exposed, and Minho’s eyes were involuntarily drawn down to the exposed skin. ‘You need food in order to soak up the excess alcohol; I know the best cure for hangovers, Heechul hyung used to depend on me all the time after all.’
Minho was surprised by the logic that came from such a young mind. He’s also never had breakfast prepared in his own apartment, and doubts he has the equipment necessary; after all, he burnt toast and restaurants were just so convenient.
‘Well. If you insist.’ He walked out of the bedroom dazedly, turning into the bathroom as lighter footsteps pad past him.
The shower’s hot and the steam helped to clear his head a little; he can only remember fragments of last night, mostly of Kibum taunting him by challenging him to another bottle of soju, when he knew that Minho was unable to hold his liquor. Minho cursed his naturally competitive nature, unable to refuse the glint in Kibum's eyes.
‘Fine,’ he had said, grabbing the bottle and taking large gulps from it, the alcohol burning its way down his throat as he swallowed. Minho had ignored the satisfied look on Kibum's face, instead concentrating on the bottle that somehow seemed to split into two.
He wondered today if Kibum had an ulterior motive in order to get him drunk.
Of course not, he thought, brushing it off quickly. After all, they didn’t even do anything after drinking. He had simply, it seemed, went home with Taemin.
The smell of cooking was already seeping through the apartment, and surprisingly Minho found his stomach rumbling; this generally never happened in the morning. He towelled dry quickly, throwing on a wifebeater and stepping into a pair of flannel bottoms before making his way out into the living area.
Taemin was still facing the cooker, his narrow back to Minho and shoulder blades shifting prominently underneath the thin white t-shirt - it was almost see through, Minho realised, and he wondered how he had never noticed this before.
Minho stood almost awkwardly in his own apartment, not sure whether or not to announce his arrival or to wait until Taemin had finished cooking, seemingly absorbed by whatever he was prodding in the frying pan. He settled for a compromise, dragging out a chair so it screeched against the linoleum floor, and Taemin turned to acknowledge his presence, throwing him a brief smile that caused a stutter in his chest.
‘Almost ready,’ Taemin sang out, flipping what seemed to be an omelette effortlessly into the air.
Minho had never really sat down at his table before, and he frowned as his finger trailed a pathway amongst the light scattering of dust which had settled. His attention was diverted though, by Taemin unceremoniously rummaging through cupboards to find plates and pulling some out with a flourish, setting down two on the table with a clatter.
‘You don’t stock your fridge very much, do you?’
He felt abashed by this; cooking had never been a hobby of his, and this showed by the lack of (real) food in his house.
‘Not really, what with work and stuff-hey, this is good.’ His eyebrows quirked up in amazement, and Taemin laughed in the seat opposite him.
‘Why do you sound surprised?’
Minho was embarrassed that the words left his mouth so suddenly without letting him put it in a nicer format.
‘No, it’s not that, I just didn’t expect a kid like you to be able to cook this well.’
Taemin forked more omelette into his mouth, lips curling.
‘Well, I’ve had to fend for myself, remember? Besides, it’s just an omelette.’
He frowned at this.
‘I can hardly make toast without burning it,’ he said, sulking.
The blonde snorted at this, a hand automatically flying up to cover his mouth.
‘I’m serious! I swear there’s something wrong with the toaster, it’s definitely not my fault.’
Taemin raised an eyebrow at him disbelievingly.
‘You must have had a really sheltered life, huh?’
Minho ducked his head.
‘Kibum comes over and cooks for me sometimes. That’s probably why I even have anything in my fridge,’ he mused. The clock on the wall caught his eye.
‘Shit, is that the time?’ He only caught the profanity after it left his mouth, and closed his eyes in disbelief. ‘Ignore that,’ he said gravely, eyes flickering open to stare at Taemin intently. ‘You’re too young to be swearing.’
He only got an eye roll in return. ‘Hyung, I hear worse from twelve year olds running about on the streets. And I’m seventeen, I should be allowed to swear by now.’
Minho frowned. There wasn’t really that much of an age gap, was there? Just give or take seven years.
‘I supposed I can’t tell you what to do, can I?’ He sighed. The clock was ticking, and work was calling. It only really gave him a brief moment to deliberate over what to do with Taemin.
Tae, I have to go to work soon.’ He worried his lip, knowing that today would be a busy day with Kibum harassing him. ‘Listen, would you rather stay in the apartment? Because the only other choice is you come to the station with me, but then you would have to go into the cell again since the other co-workers wouldn’t really be open to you hanging around the offices.’
Taemin hesitated before answering. ‘I guess I could stay in the apartment. It’s a lot more comfortable than the cell too.’
Minho felt relief, with a wave of slight disappointment that Taemin wouldn’t be present for whenever he grew tired of his work.
‘Don’t run away, ok? My boss would get so pissed at me if you disappeared…’ Taemin laughed again. ‘I’ll leave some money if you want to go the shop to buy any food, and a spare key but for god’s sake don’t wander off too far cause I don’t want to lose you, ok?’
Another eye roll was his response. ‘Hyung, I live on the streets, remember? I probably know your neighbourhood better than you do yourself.’
He refused to reply, because this was most probably true, considering that the journey to and from work was the most frequent (and only) road he took. Even all the shops were conveniently located on this path.
‘Never mind.’ He rose to get changed, Taemin clearing the table before him.
There was a multitude of suits hanging in his wardrobe, and he quickly pulled out the first one he could lay his hands on. He never understood why Kibum made such a big fuss about his clothing; to him they practically all looked the same, not including the obvious that they were of course of different shades of colour. But he had the sense to stay away from the one located on the far side, only to be worn when Kibum told him to.
That suit was exceedingly expensive, a price that made Minho almost choke when Kibum told him.
‘Are you crazy? That could cover my rent for three months.’
Kibum didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘It’s Armani. Of course it’s expensive.’
Minho never really tried to argue with Kibum after that. He concluded that it was impossible for Kibum to see sense.
His wallet only had ₩5,000 in total, and so he rummaged in his drawer for more money. There was a fistful of notes he found, and triumphantly he took these and slammed them on the kitchen counter, along with a spare key and the old mobile he still had lying around now connected to a charger. Taemin was seemingly absorbed in a morning cartoon, and paid no heed to Minho moving about like a mad man, gathering papers off the table and from his office, stuffing them haphazardly into his briefcase.
‘Taemin, there’s money on the counter.’
A grunt of acknowledgement.
‘And I left my phone number beside the phone. You can bring out that old mobile if you go out, so I can phone you and you can phone me.’
Taemin nodded in his direction, eyes fixed to the television.
‘If you get hungry, you can just call for delivery, ok?’
A thumbs up showed that he heard.
Minho hesitated, not wanting to leave even though he was already late.
‘I’ll call you when it’s around lunchtime, and we can have lunch together.’
Taemin didn’t even bother this time.
‘If a man calls and says he wants to sell me some cocaine tell him I’ll meet him in the usual spot and I’ve got his weed.’
‘Hyung, just go already.’
This morning’s journey to work wasn’t filled with anticipation like his last two had been; instead, he dreaded having to deal with a possibly equally hung over Kibum, as he was known for having a drink and then continuing throughout the whole night. (At least he hadn’t the misfortune of Kibum staying over last night - Kibum’s drunken aeygo was simply horrible.)
He stopped by the coffee shop, smiling hesitantly at Jinki who regarded him with a look of slight suspicion, before breaking into a smile made his eyes squint as he turned to the coffee machine. The two coffees (one for Kibum) were served in a Styrofoam cup holder, so Minho didn’t have to fumble with burning hot coffees whilst trying to dodge a sea of people. He arrived to work without any incidents though, which was an accomplishment in itself. Now all he had to do was make it to lunch without Taemin, and actually do some work.
As was predicted, Kibum had a terrible hangover, but it didn’t stop him from interrogating Minho about Taemin. He gripped onto the coffee Minho had given him as if it was a vital lifeline, eyeing him beadily as he sipped gingerly.
‘So. What happened after?’
‘What do you mean, what happened after?’
Kibum winced. ‘Jesus Christ, Minho, you don’t need to talk so loud.’
Minho lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Nothing happened. After you left me with him - why did you buy me that second bottle of soju, by the way - he got me home and then we went to sleep.’
He scoffed, looking at Minho doubtfully. ‘You mean, you guys slept together as in you slept together, or did you just sleep together? Please tell me that you slept together as in you slept together.’
One thing Minho was good at was being a gentleman. ‘We slept. As in, we went to sleep. In the same bed sort of together.’
‘What, you didn’t even offer to sleep on the couch? If you didn’t sleep together sleep together then what were you doing sleeping together?’
Minho grew easily frustrated, because even he couldn’t remember what had happened last night. And Kibum had no right as to ask what had happened between him and Taemin, because it was private. Sort of.
‘You have no right on questioning me on these things, Kim Kibum, especially when you got me drunk last night.’
Kibum leant back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk appearing. ‘Hey, I didn’t force it down your throat.’
That was true, but in Minho’s eyes he might as well have, with his taunts about not being able to hold his liquor.
Time passed exceptionally slowly for some reason, with Minho glancing at his watch only to find 5 minutes had passed in what felt like an hour. He was preparing Taemin’s case - simple, of sorts. Taemin would be given some kind of punishment, because there was too much that he could be convicted for. Minho planned to ask for a simple charge, based on the grounds that he was young; only seventeen, with no parents or guardians to speak of. Taemin would only be held responsible for the charges made in the past year, as the legal age for punishment on junior delinquents was 16.
It was only 11.43 when Minho finished Taemin’s case (he was certain that was the precise time, since he made sure his watch was exactly in sync with the TV), but he decided that he could call home, even if it was a little early.
He waited patiently for Taemin to pick up, reasoning that maybe he was in the bathroom as the phone kept ringing. The phone rang 23 times, and Minho frowned, pressing the ‘end’ button.
Maybe Taemin was at the corner shop, he thought. After all, it was nearly lunchtime, and there was practically nothing edible except for crisps in his house. That’s it, he thought, nodding to himself. He spun himself around in his swivel chair once for good measure. I’ll just phone back in about 20 minutes.
20 minutes was an awfully long time to wait. There were only so many times he could spin on his chair - probably less so than usual as he was still feeling slightly nauseous. He settled for throwing a pen in the air and catching it, pleased that even when it spiralled higher into the air it still fell into his hand more often than on the floor.
There must have been something wrong with his watch; after all, time couldn’t possibly move this slowly, could it? He decided that 17 minutes and 34 seconds was plenty of time for Taemin to get back, and dialled again expectantly. No answer.
Minho then remembered that Taemin had his old mobile, and it took a further 3 minutes for him to rummage in his brain for the correct sequence of numbers. He wasn’t sure if it was right though; he tended to get a bit muddled, and he hadn’t used that number for over a year. Defeated, he went to find Kibum.
Kibum was able to rattle it off over the shoulder the moment Minho asked him, not bothering to ask him why because he was pretty sure he knew why already. Minho typed it into his mobile hurriedly, heart rate steadying as the call connected, meaning that Taemin had turned on his phone.
There was a rustle on the other side as he picked up, and Minho couldn’t prevent an uncontrollable grin from breaking onto his face. He could hear Taemin’s laugh that somehow managed to be husky yet pealing at the same time, and he wondered what happened to make that delicious sound come out of his mouth.
‘Minho-hyung?’
His heart fluttered a little. ‘How did you know it was me?’
A soft laugh come through to his ear. ‘Hyung, you gave me this mobile and you said you would phone at lunchtime.’
‘Oh. Well anyway, have you had lunch yet?’
‘Actually, I’m having lunch right now.’ Minho fully expected a no, and couldn’t help but feel that his plans had been crushed. Blown into the dusty plain by a storm. Even though he hadn’t given a thought as to where they would eat lunch.
‘Oh. In the apartment?’
There was a laugh again. ‘No, in Jinki-hyung’s coffee shop.’ There was a short gasp. ‘Wait.’ Minho could hear the receiver being muffled, and scuffling at the other end.
‘Sorry, Jinki-hyung was interrupting me.’ Minho didn’t like Taemin calling other people ‘hyung’ for some reason.
‘What was he doing?’
‘Tickling me.’ Minho was perturbed when Taemin sighed. ‘Jinki-hyung knows it’s my greatest weakness.’ He carefully stored this piece of information away in his brain.
‘Anyway, I should probably go now.’ Minho tried to not let the hint of clinginess into his voice. ‘I’ll probably just get lunch with Kibum, since you’ve already eaten.’
‘You could come down and sit with us,’ Taemin offered, but Minho thought it was best if he gave Jinki some space. He was still wary of this man who seemed fiercely protective of Taemin.
‘I shouldn’t intrude your time with Jinki,’ he muttered.
‘Well then, I should go now. Jinki-hyung’s calling me for dessert.’ Taemin’s voice perked up, and Minho suddenly really didn’t like the idea of lunch with Kibum.
He was probably going to have to pay for them again.
A/N: THIS IS WHAT I CALL THE HONEYMOON PHASE
Sorry about it being unbeta'ed, but you see I was trying to get this up because I know I haven't updated this in forever and still have to crosspost this to things and everything and I'm leaving soon and I felt so bad about not updating this. My main priority right now (if my mind allows me) is to finish this chaptered fic for all you lovely readers and then work on my collection of unfinished oneshots.
And in other news, I will now disappear.