[fic] Minho/Key - SHINee - High Maintenance - Chapter 10/10
Title: High Maintenance; Chapter 10/10
Author: fonulyn
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Pairing: Minho/girl!Key (Minho/Gwiboon)
Other characters: Jonghyun, Onew, Zhou Mi, Boa, girl!Taemin (some are around more than others)
Warnings: --
Wordcount: ~47k (overall); 5604 for this part
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: When Gwiboon's car breaks down she expects the repairs to be an annoying hassle. Not in her wildest dreams had she hoped for an illegally hot mechanic to be there to ease her hardships.
Comments: THIS IS IT GUYS. This is the eeeeeend.
Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
It’s a miracle Gwiboon manages to get all the way home without causing an accident. Maybe it’s partly thanks to the way anger is finally seeping off her, leaving her deflated and sort of empty, as she has no idea what she’s supposed to do now. She still feels the immense urge to run away, to go somewhere, anywhere, as long as it’s far away from her parents. She simply doesn’t know how, doesn’t know where to start, and doesn’t know if she can do it by herself.
A large part of her feels like she just needs a good cry.
That’s exactly what she does, as soon as the door slams shut behind her. There’s no way she can hold back the big tears that roll down her cheeks, even though she tries to swallow them down and furiously wipe them away. Finally she gives in, falls onto the plush living room couch and lets the sobs subside on their own.
After she’s calmed down enough she dials Jinki’s number, but it goes straight to his voicemail. With a huff, she punches the next possible number, and is greeted by a sleepy mumble. “Gwiboon?” It’s enough to make her smile, at least, as she’s known her friend long enough to be able to imagine the adorably, and amusingly, sleepy features that accompany that particular tone.
“Sorry if I woke you up,” she begins, and just like that the tears are back again. She blinks to get rid of them, but her success is limited and she knows it’s audible in her voice as well. “I just really needed to talk to someone and Jinki isn’t answering, so.”
“I just took a nap. I’m glad to be your backup plan,” Zhou Mi laughs, and doesn’t sound the least bit offended by it. The merry laughter quickly turns to an honestly concerned tone, though. “What’s wrong?”
Gwiboon doesn’t need to be asked twice, and she spills the whole story, from the beginning to the end. It feels like she’s not even breathing in between, but at the same time an enormous weight is lifted off her shoulders as soon as she’s managed to explain everything. Zhou Mi doesn’t interrupt her, not even once, before she’s obviously done and they fall into a short silence.
“You know that I’d love to have you here, right?” Zhou Mi begins carefully. When he gets an agreeing sound as an answer, he goes on. “So I’m not saying this to keep you from coming here, you’re always welcome.” He pauses, as if he’s searching for words, but then just blurts it all out. “You shouldn’t come here on an impulse. It’s a big decision. And an even bigger change in your life. You should really think about it and not do it just because you’re angry.”
“I have thought about it,” Gwiboon tries, but it sounds meek even to her own ears.
Zhou Mi laughs. “Yeah I’m sure. Think of it more, though. Make sure it’s what you want. Moving here was tough on me, too, and I was returning home. It’s going to be a lot harder for you, so you need to be certain.”
“I thought I was,” she sighs. “I was ready to pack my bags and take the next flight out.”
“Give it a bit of time,” he says, gently. It’s not an order, and doesn’t send her on the defensive, not even when he goes on. “Sleep on it, or make a list of pros and cons, or just think about it more. After that, if you still want to come here, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
It does make a lot of sense, Gwiboon has to admit, and maybe she has been acting harshly. Maybe she shouldn’t have dropped the bomb on Minho like she did, and then explode again when he refused to agree. In a way, she’s known it all along, she just needed someone to make her see it. “Hey? Thank you,” she says, and means it wholly. “I might not be moving there quite yet.”
They chat for a moment longer, slowly drifting from the initial topic to everything and nothing. When the call finally ends Gwiboon stays right there on the couch, eyes closed, lost in her thoughts. At least she’s not angry anymore. She just feels this strange emptiness, like air has stilled around her. Like the calm before the storm. She’s not sure what to make of it.
Several hours later, Jinki finally calls back and Gwiboon doesn’t even need to ask before he announces he’s coming over. He brings snacks and three bottles of wine, and Gwiboon sort of wishes she really could marry Jinki since he is all kinds of perfect. Especially when he allows her to lean against him and snuggle close, as they’re sipping on their first glasses of wine.
The companionable silence does the trick and calms Gwiboon down until she’s feeling mostly like her normal self. She can’t get rid of the hollow ache in her chest, but then again, she supposes that’d be too much to ask for, especially so soon. A part of her wants to call Minho, or go to him, and talk things through until they’d be back where they were before this mess. Yet another part, the stubborn part, feels that she was wronged and doesn’t want to give in.
She sighs, and apparently that works as a cue for Jinki to squeeze her shoulder and reach for the bottle to fill their glasses again. “So, want to explain what happened?”
Gwiboon knows that she could say no and he wouldn’t press it, but she needs him to know. She explains how her parents behaved, how her mother called her, and how she stormed off to Minho’s place only to end up fighting with him as well. She’s glad she has the glass in her hand since she can take a sip to calm her nerves every now and then.
Talking about it should’ve calmed her down and sorted out her thoughts, she thinks, but it’s pretty much the opposite of what happens. The myriad of emotions is back again, and when she talks about the argument she almost feels like the lump in her throat might end up choking her. She tries to cover it up the best she can, even though she knows Jinki will see through it anyway. “Don’t worry,” she finishes, with a weak chuckle. “I’m not moving to China. At least not yet. It was a stupid thought, anyway.” She downs the rest of the wine in her glass in one go, reaching for the bottle. This time she foregoes the glass completely and sips right from it.
“Well.” Jinki smiles, softly. “It wouldn’t be stupid if you really wanted it. But do you?”
“No.” She doesn’t even need to think about it. The answer is obvious. “I just feel… I’m really angry at my parents. I don’t want to see them even on accident, and I know I need to work out how to get rid of this apartment and how to make sure I’m not financially dependant on them anymore. I just haven’t had the time to think about it, at all. I’ve been too busy thinking of ways to run away as far as I can.” By the end of it she’s speaking so fast she’s surprised she isn’t tripping over her words.
Jinki notices how she’s trying to work herself into near hysterics again, and pats her knee. “We’ll sort it out. It’s not going to be hard, you don’t pay them rent so you can basically just move out. The rest we can plan later.” He knows, from experience, that he just needs to be patient.
For a moment Gwiboon is silent, allowing her thoughts to run free. She has the bag of peanuts on her lap, eating them in between the pretty generous sips of wine, and as soon as she’s emptied the bottle she sets it down on the floor, gesturing for the next one. With a sigh, Jinki opens it, but only gives her half a glass. “Have you called Minho?” he asks to break the silence.
Gwiboon sighs, shaking her head. “No.” She doesn’t know if her call would be even welcomed now, after she made such a spectacle and then ran away right after without even giving Minho the chance to say anything. It’s not something she wants to discuss over the phone, honestly.
Jinki hums, thoughtfully. “Did you two break up?”
The question alone makes Gwiboon’s head ache. Maybe she overdid it with the wine. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she gives another slow headshake. “I… don’t know. I really don’t know.” Admitting it out loud sucks even more than realizing that she really has no idea what the argument led to, where it left them.
Jinki’s answer is a nod. Then, he asks the question that holds the most importance. “Do you want to break up with him?”
This time, she needs no time to think. “No.”
The reply seems to satisfy Jinki as he finally attends his own glass of wine, takes a small sip and then grins brightly at Gwiboon. “Then you’ll just go there tomorrow. Apologize,” he says, giving a happy little shrug, “get your man back.”
She laughs. “You make it sound so easy!”
“It is,” he nods, “it is.”
For the second time within a week Minho wakes up feeling like crap. This time, there’s no hangover to explain that away, but he simply couldn’t sleep at all because of the thoughts that kept running to and fro in his mind. He keeps replaying the argument, every word that was said, and by the end of it he doesn’t even know how much of it is how things really went down and how much his tired mind managed to muddle things up.
In the morning he drags himself out of bed and into the shower. He gets dressed, nibbles on his breakfast and drinks four cups of coffee. Despite all that, he can’t bring himself to go to work so he calls Jonghyun and asks him to just lock up and go home too. One missed day of business isn’t going to kill them. Jonghyun notices immediately that something is up and asks if he should come over but Minho tells him he’s fine. He knows that Jonghyun doesn’t believe him, but thankfully he doesn’t pry and lets it be.
Eventually Minho ends up sitting on the couch, thumbing his phone as he tries to decide whether he should call Gwiboon or not. He’s not sure how the proper etiquette goes with these things. Is he supposed to give her space and wait until she calls him, if ever? Or is he supposed to call her as soon as possible, to show that he’s not ready to let things just fall apart like this? It’s not like he particularly wants to make the call since talking about something like this over the phone feels somehow wrong, but he doesn’t even want to imagine all the ways it could become a disaster if he suddenly appeared on her doorstep.
He never really got the chance to get angry, since the whole argument happened so fast it ended up being pretty onesided. He barely had time to understand what was going on, and only later, when Gwiboon was long gone, his temper flared and he decided he wouldn’t be the first one to make a move to reconcile. A decision he managed to give up less than an hour after he made it. He knows they both said things they shouldn’t have, spoke without thinking, and he doesn’t care who’s the one who ends it and starts fixing things. As long as it happens.
With a frustrated, deep sigh Minho throws himself back on the couch, with his long legs dangling over the armrest. How do people even deal with situations like these? It’s not like this is the first time he’s argued with someone, or with Gwiboon. Yet it’s the first time an argument leaves him feeling this uneasy, like it might actually ruin something he’s not ready to let go.
He feels sick to his stomach at the mere thought of losing Gwiboon. Maybe that’s what makes him finally get over the hesitation and press the ‘call’ button. He chews on his lower lip, probably hard enough to leave it swollen, as he waits for Gwiboon to pick up the phone. He counts each beep, until it becomes apparent that she’s not going to answer, and in a fit of frustration Minho lets his phone drop to the floor. It makes a slight cracking sound, but he doesn’t bother to check if it’s still in one piece.
Fine. If she doesn’t want to hear him out, he’s …
The ringing of the doorbell effectively cuts his thoughts. For a second Minho considers the merits of just ignoring it, as it’s probably either Jonghyun or someone trying to sell things he’s not even remotely interested in. After it sounds one more time, though, he heaves himself up from the couch and starts towards the door. He rakes his fingers through his hair, hoping to tame the mop to a slightly more presentable hairdo, since he’s fairly sure he looks like a walking zombie right now.
He doesn’t expect to see Gwiboon standing at his door as soon as he swings it open. He definitely doesn’t expect to see Gwiboon with a whole bunch of suitcases and bags piled at her feet. And he knows he’s gaping at the sight, stunned into silence, since after a moment Gwiboon reaches out to gently tap his chin. “Close your mouth, Minho. That’s really not attractive.”
With a snap, Minho does as he’s told, shaking his head a little as if it could clear his mind and make him see right, instead of this illusion that his tired brain has obviously conjured to torture him. “What… just what is going on?” he manages to ask, eventually.
Gwiboon gives a small shrug and a grin. “I’m moving in! Make room in the bathroom, I have at least one suitcase full of beauty products to fit in there, it’s not like I remain this gorgeous just because mother nature has been kind to me.” She speaks as if she’s completely sure of herself, yet there’s clear hesitance in her tone, in her posture, in the line of her shoulders.
“You’re?” Minho asks, before he realizes it’s not really a question at all. “You’re moving in? I thought you didn’t want to, at least before you’d finished your studies and -”
He doesn’t get any further before she stops him, placing a hand on his chest. “Look, Minho. I am really sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have barged in when I was still angry, I just took it all out on you. Besides, you were right, I really don’t want to move away and leave my life here behind. Not if you’re not coming with me. And since you asked me, repeatedly, if I’d want to live together, I figured… well, here I am.” She pauses, smiles softly up at him. “I’m here to stay. That is, if you’ll still have me.”
It takes Minho a moment to process all the information in his mind. It takes long enough for Gwiboon to interpret his silence wrong and begin to retreat, but that’s when he finally jumps into action and gently grabs her wrist to hold her hand in place. “If I’ll still have you? …for God’s sake I want to marry you!” he bursts out, and that cues another stunned silence. He doesn’t let it go on for long this time, though, but instead allows a bright smile to break free. “Gwiboon. Will you marry me?”
She can’t stop smiling, either, her cheeks hurting from the way she’s grinning so wide and she jumps him, throwing her arms and legs around him. “Hell fucking yes I will!” she announces, so loud that probably the whole building hears her. But it doesn’t matter, nothing else matters but the way she’s clinging on to him, the way he is hugging her back almost too tightly, and the way their laughter echoes off the walls of the corridor.
Eventually Gwiboon pulls back enough to crush their mouths together in a kiss that holds a slight hint of desperation, and a whole lot of relief now that they know that things will work out between them. It’s like straight from one of those romantic comedies they kept laughing at and comparing themselves to, and they wouldn’t even want it any other way right now. There’s going to be some serious talking in the immediate future, but in silent agreement they decide that now is not the time for it.
They keep kissing until Minho’s arms are aching from holding Gwiboon up, until they’re both slightly out of breath from it. She wriggles a little, then, and he lets her down on the ground to stand on her own two feet. “Now,” she says, inhaling sharply as her voice almost breaks already at that single word, “let’s drag all of this inside before someone steals my stuff, okay?”
He laughs, and obligingly grabs two large suitcases to haul them into the living room.
Later, much later, they’re tangled as much in the sheets as they are in each other, and neither of them wants to get up anytime soon. They spent the majority of the evening unpacking the essentials, and trying to figure out a place for the rest of the bags and suitcases for the time being. Not much was spoken, but they kept migrating towards each other as if they couldn’t go too far for the fear of hurting the careful balance.
It’s only now, when they’re lying in bed in almost complete darkness, silent save for the soft breaths and the frantic heartbeats, that they finally talk about something other than ‘where do you want to put the makeup’ or ‘should we buy a new closet’. Minho is slowly stroking spirals into Gwiboon’s back as he speaks, voice low and rough from the lack of use. “What about your parents?”
“What about them?” Gwiboon asks. She instinctively tenses at the mere mention of them, but Minho doesn’t stop the soothing touches and it makes her gradually relax back against him, seeking the shared warmth. “Well, they’ll either disown me and have nothing to do with me, or they’ll make a huge scene and try to threaten you out of my life.” She tilts her head, presses a small kiss in the hollow of his collarbone. “But fuck if I care. They can shove their money right up their asses.”
That makes Minho laugh, although he knows it’s sort of inappropriate. It’s not really funny, if one thinks of it, but it’s not like he can burst into tears either. Now that they’re on the topic of wealth, he figures he can as well address the other thing that’s pressing on his mind. “You do realize that I’m not rich?” He winces slightly even as he says it, because it comes out more condescending than he wanted it to.
Gwiboon doesn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, she scoffs at him and reaches up to cuff his head. “Don’t you think we’ve come a bit far for you to have that crisis now?” she says, glaring at him the best she can. It’s not very effective considering that it’s so dark he only sees her features vaguely, and that her hair is sticking in every direction making her look more adorable than threatening. She’s immediately rewarded with a soft kiss, one that makes her sigh happily and strain upwards until she can deepen it slightly.
After, she happily collapses back on him, not caring in the slightest that it knocks the air out of him. Not that he cares, either, he just huffs out a laugh and twines his arms around her waist again. “Don’t even dare to go there,” Gwiboon mumbles, “I’m not marrying you for your money. Besides, we’ll make it work. We’ll make your garage the biggest fucking garage in the city!”
“Our garage,” he cuts in, grinning. It makes him stupidly giddy to say that. It makes him stupidly giddy to even think that they’re engaged, even if they’re still lacking the rings. And whatever is his is now definitely hers too, as cliché as it makes him.
Gwiboon pulls back far enough to grin at him. “Now why did that sound so romantic?” she asks, laughing. “It definitely should not be romantic! I bet no other man has yet wooed a woman by promises of co-owning a garage.” Yet she can’t deny, either, that having a concrete promise of a life built together is a better mood-lifter than pretty much anything else she could think of.
“You’re just so far gone,” Minho points out, the grin turning sort of smug. “Admit it, you’ve fallen head over heels for me, there’s no turning back. You may as well accept your fate.”
He means it as a joke, but he receives a completely serious reply. “Yes, I have.” She looks at him straight, and only when he doesn’t react immediately to the words she rolls her eyes. “Did you maybe miss it when I told you I love you? Or do you have ears only as decoration?”
“No, no I didn’t miss it,” he says, underlining the words with a quick headshake. He smiles goofily, unable to hold it back as damn, he remembers that moment and thinking of it makes him as happy as living it in the first place did. He slides his hands lower, over the curve of her butt, and grabs the backs of her thighs to hike her even closer. She nods forward until their foreheads are pressed together, and they’re just grinning stupidly at one another.
“You ass,” Gwiboon chuckles. “The least you could do is say it back. Or sing that serenade now that you’re sober.”
“I just can’t believe all this,” Minho admits. “When I woke up I wasn’t sure if you’d ever wanna see me again and now we’re facing the life sentence together. Like, a house, picket fence, kids running around with pets…” He trails off, overwhelmed by all of the thoughts and images, the hopes and dreams that run through him at once.
“Hmmmh.” She makes a happy noise and places open mouthed kisses along his ridiculously long neck. She ends the trail with a scrape of her teeth, the light bite making him arch upwards into it in surprise. “Hold your horses there, man,” she says, amused. “Remember, five year plan! No kids in the immediate future. I’m not abandoning that just because you proposed.”
“I know, I know,” he laughs, “but I did promise you the dog, didn’t I?” The words are slightly breathless, just because she’s apparently determined to render him completely incapable of speaking. She knows the exact right way to run her nails down his sides, not too hard but not too gentle, and when she slots one leg between his, she barely needs to shift forward to make him gasp.
“Yeah, you did,” she admits, obviously enjoying the power she holds over him, how she is allowed to have him like this, at her mercy. Not that she’d ever misuse that, she knows how to make it a good deal for both parties involved. She kisses him, slow and unhurried, like they have all the time in the world, and he has no choice but to succumb. Even when it breaks naturally, she keeps gently nipping at his lower lip, enjoying the fullness of it. Until she speaks up unexpectedly. “And we seriously need to buy a new bed.”
Minho blames both the kiss and the touches for not really following that train of thought. He arches both eyebrows, just staring at her for a second dumbly, before he manages a coherent question. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“It’s not big enough,” she says, as if it should be obvious and as if anyone should be able to see it. “And I want one with a proper headboard! I have ideas I want to put into action.” Minho’s sort of loves the self-satisfied, wicked smirk on Gwiboon’s face, and it makes him pretty much mirror the expression.
“Ideas?” he asks. “Should I be worried?” The only thing that worries him right now is that she’s way too controlled right now, and he vows to change that. One large palm stays in its place on the back of her thigh, but he slips the other hand between her legs to pay her back with some teasing of his own. She doesn’t object, but instead rocks her hips into the touch with a delighted little hum.
“No,” she still manages to answer, albeit breathlessly. “You should look forward to them. I promise, you’ll end up begging for more.”
Somehow, Minho doesn’t have any doubts that it’ll be exactly how things will play out. She has pretty much already managed to convince him of the necessity of a new bed, with a proper headboard, but she doesn’t need to know that just yet. Feigning innocence, he blinks up at her. “Tell me more about those plans.”
She does.
“C’mon, Minho! We were supposed to leave already an hour ago,” Gwiboon calls into the apartment, and only gets a muffled curse as a reply. She sighs, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she shifts on her feet, impatiently waiting by the door. It’s getting too hot, as she’s already wearing a light jacket and her stylish new boots, and for some reason the temperature in their apartment is turned up abnormally high.
Maybe she’s impatient also because she knows they’re headed to a pet shelter that closes fairly early, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s incredibly annoyed by how Minho has one of those days when he takes an hour to find a matching pair of socks. Finally Minho appears from the living room, cheeks slightly flushed, and fucking finally pocketing his lost keys, Gwiboon just frowns at him. Maybe she can convey her disapproval that way.
Minho knows her too well to even bat an eye, though. He leans down and places a kiss on her lips, patting her back to make her move. “Now c’mon, you were yelling at me for the past half an hour for being so slow. Are we going or not?” He’s grinning, and a part of Gwiboon wants to smack that expression off his face. She doesn’t, though, but instead kisses it off. Same difference.
“Fine. You’ll drive. And after, we’re getting takeout,” she orders, finally marching outside.
They make it in time at the shelter, but the decision proves to be more than difficult. Minho sort of wants to take a dozen of cats and dogs home, along with a few bunnies and other soft and cuddly things. Hell, he might have a thing for cute animals, sue him. He doesn’t need to admit that soft spot to anyone.
Finally, after what feels like an endless day of heartbreak knowing they can’t bring home more than one pet, Gwiboon announces she’s made her decision. The worker that has accompanied them most of the time seems pleased by this, and before they even know it there’s a dog deposited in her arms while the worker announces he’s going to go pre-fill out the paperwork.
Minho stares at the dog for a moment, before the words burst out of him. “You can’t be serious!” He frowns, confused, tilting his head as if that could make the animal look different. “That dog looks like a rat!”
“Minho! You can’t call this little cutie pie a rat! No, we’re getting him,” she protectively cradles the little dog in her arms, and the dog seems very pleased about that. “Hello, Vuitton. You’ll be nice to your new mom, won’t you? Good boy,” she coos, and the dog seems to agree. At least judging by the way he shifts slightly in Gwiboon’s hold and reaches to lick her neck in an affectionate gesture.
“…Vuitton?” Minho asks incredulously. He’s still staring at the little rat, and can’t help but think that in his imagination getting a dog would have consisted of an animal much bigger and… furrier? He would’ve liked a nice golden retriever or so, not one of these little things he’s afraid he’s going to step on accidentally.
“Yes,” Gwiboon says with a fond smile. She’s obviously in love already. “His name. And we’re getting him.” The feeling seems to be mutual, as the dog nuzzles against Gwiboon, like he’s always belonged right there and has no intention of ever going anywhere.
Minho can’t deny, he’s still a little hesitant, but he figures he can’t judge a book by its cover. Or a dog by its… appearance, whatever. Slowly he reaches out, intending on petting the dog, to maybe get to know him. Yet he withdraws his hand in record speed when the dog has the audacity to growl at him to warn him off. “We can’t have a dog that hates my guts,” he says, with a frown.
“Of course he’s mad at you,” Gwiboon huffs. “You called him a rat! He’s going to forgive, as long as you’ll be nice to him.”
Her mind is set, so Minho figures he can’t do much else but agree. It’s going to be two against one anyway, so he might as well give in without a fight. Even though he can already imagine how the dog is going to chew on all the wires - of course only of the appliances he uses - and piss in his toolbox and scratch his car, only to list a few.
Then again, his annoyance is slightly alleviated when they go buy more supplies and Gwiboon decides to buy Vuitton a pink collar with sparkly studs. Minho swears, if dogs get appalled, they wear the exact same look that Vuitton does as he’s stuck with that piece of questionable fashion. Minho thanks his luck that he’s not going to be forced into anything that horrid.
Maybe he’ll learn to get along with the dog, eventually. Nothing stops him from trying.
As soon as they arrive home, the new addition to their little family seems to find a place for himself on the comfortable, fluffy carpet in front of the couch. He curls up happily, completely ignoring the dog basket and the food bowls, and seems to fall asleep right after a wide yawn. It sort of looks adorable, Minho has to admit. He’s already growing fond of the dog, so now he only needs to make sure it’s mutual.
This is not the time for any of that, though. Instead they break out the takeout, sitting cross-legged on the couch with the containers between them. The TV isn’t running, there’s no music or no background noise, and neither of them can be bothered to get up and change that fact.
“Next time,” Minho begins when he’s managed to already destroy pretty much half of the food. “I’ll get to pick the dog.” It’s not like it’s a big issue for him, really, but he can’t get it out of his mind how many animals they saw in need of a home, and he doesn’t think having two dogs would be much more work than one. As long as they don’t both hate him.
“Alright,” Gwiboon answers easily, with a small shrug. “Something tells me you’ll just find the biggest dog available, and pick based on that alone.” She’s grinning, as she can really imagine that happening. Somehow, it’d be pretty much perfect, too. Don’t people say that dogs are supposed to represent their owners?
Minho at least doesn’t even bother to try denying her assumptions. He only grins around a mouthful of food and nods. “Hell yes.” He has some sauce stains in the corner of his mouth, which is unusual considering how he’s usually the cleaner eater of the two, and Gwiboon just can’t resist leaning in to kiss the stain off.
In the process she manages to lose her balance and fall right over. She ends up face first into Minho’s chest, while lying on the remains of their food, and after the initial oh my god what did I just do she can’t help but burst out laughing. Helplessly she clutches at Minho’s shirt, trying to scramble upwards since the sauce is soaking through her clothes already. “Oh my god this is so gross!”
She barely manages to sit up before there’s a flurry of movement and suddenly there’s a little dog sitting on her lap, gnawing on the stained shirt as if it’s the most delicious thing in the whole wide world.
They laugh until their bellies hurt from it, until their cheeks ache from all the smiling.
When Gwiboon first walked into that garage all those months ago, she had no idea it would end up changing her life this much. She doesn’t think she even realized it when she was already well on her way to falling in love. Yet now that it’s done, now that there’s no going back, she wouldn’t change it for the world.
He’s everything she’s not. She fills in what he’s lacking. That is all they need.
That’s what makes them inseparable.
EXTRAS 1
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So now that it’s all over some thanks are in order.
First of all, I need to thank Nina. Without her, this fic would have never been conceived. I want to thank her for holding my hand through the whole (extremely long and difficult) labour pains as I was trying to give birth to this fic. Here it is now, Nina, our baby! You are a father now, when are you going to make an honest woman out of me and propose?
Secondly, there are two other friends I want to thank: Hannah for her incredibly valuable suggestions and help when it was direly needed, and Piu for her unfaltering support and encouragement! You both helped me a lot during this process. Do you want to be the godmothers of this child? 8)
Thirdly, I want to thank every single person who has shown interest towards this fic either by commenting, by liking and/or reblogging this on tumblr, or by otherwise letting me know this wasn’t written in vain for an empty audience. I love and cherish each and every one of you! Without you this wouldn’t have been possible!
Now imagine me dramatically burst in tears like one should after every great thank you -speech.
This is (I think?) the longest fic I’ve written, and it was supposed to be just a quick smutty oneshot with a car mechanic Minho, haha what is my lifeeeee. I even have a few drabbles written for this verse, I’m going to post them sometime in the near future :3 (also, secret hint: if you would like to see a certain moment as a little drabble, you can always prompt me and I’ll see what I can do!)
Also, I’ve now successfully written not only regular minkey but also het!minkey and lesbian!minkey so I think I’ve got all the bases covered, right? This pairing just does it for me in all of these variations ;; Otp ;;
Anyhow! I’ll finally shut up now. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did :D
@DW.
Author: fonulyn
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Pairing: Minho/girl!Key (Minho/Gwiboon)
Other characters: Jonghyun, Onew, Zhou Mi, Boa, girl!Taemin (some are around more than others)
Warnings: --
Wordcount: ~47k (overall); 5604 for this part
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: When Gwiboon's car breaks down she expects the repairs to be an annoying hassle. Not in her wildest dreams had she hoped for an illegally hot mechanic to be there to ease her hardships.
Comments: THIS IS IT GUYS. This is the eeeeeend.
Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
It’s a miracle Gwiboon manages to get all the way home without causing an accident. Maybe it’s partly thanks to the way anger is finally seeping off her, leaving her deflated and sort of empty, as she has no idea what she’s supposed to do now. She still feels the immense urge to run away, to go somewhere, anywhere, as long as it’s far away from her parents. She simply doesn’t know how, doesn’t know where to start, and doesn’t know if she can do it by herself.
A large part of her feels like she just needs a good cry.
That’s exactly what she does, as soon as the door slams shut behind her. There’s no way she can hold back the big tears that roll down her cheeks, even though she tries to swallow them down and furiously wipe them away. Finally she gives in, falls onto the plush living room couch and lets the sobs subside on their own.
After she’s calmed down enough she dials Jinki’s number, but it goes straight to his voicemail. With a huff, she punches the next possible number, and is greeted by a sleepy mumble. “Gwiboon?” It’s enough to make her smile, at least, as she’s known her friend long enough to be able to imagine the adorably, and amusingly, sleepy features that accompany that particular tone.
“Sorry if I woke you up,” she begins, and just like that the tears are back again. She blinks to get rid of them, but her success is limited and she knows it’s audible in her voice as well. “I just really needed to talk to someone and Jinki isn’t answering, so.”
“I just took a nap. I’m glad to be your backup plan,” Zhou Mi laughs, and doesn’t sound the least bit offended by it. The merry laughter quickly turns to an honestly concerned tone, though. “What’s wrong?”
Gwiboon doesn’t need to be asked twice, and she spills the whole story, from the beginning to the end. It feels like she’s not even breathing in between, but at the same time an enormous weight is lifted off her shoulders as soon as she’s managed to explain everything. Zhou Mi doesn’t interrupt her, not even once, before she’s obviously done and they fall into a short silence.
“You know that I’d love to have you here, right?” Zhou Mi begins carefully. When he gets an agreeing sound as an answer, he goes on. “So I’m not saying this to keep you from coming here, you’re always welcome.” He pauses, as if he’s searching for words, but then just blurts it all out. “You shouldn’t come here on an impulse. It’s a big decision. And an even bigger change in your life. You should really think about it and not do it just because you’re angry.”
“I have thought about it,” Gwiboon tries, but it sounds meek even to her own ears.
Zhou Mi laughs. “Yeah I’m sure. Think of it more, though. Make sure it’s what you want. Moving here was tough on me, too, and I was returning home. It’s going to be a lot harder for you, so you need to be certain.”
“I thought I was,” she sighs. “I was ready to pack my bags and take the next flight out.”
“Give it a bit of time,” he says, gently. It’s not an order, and doesn’t send her on the defensive, not even when he goes on. “Sleep on it, or make a list of pros and cons, or just think about it more. After that, if you still want to come here, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
It does make a lot of sense, Gwiboon has to admit, and maybe she has been acting harshly. Maybe she shouldn’t have dropped the bomb on Minho like she did, and then explode again when he refused to agree. In a way, she’s known it all along, she just needed someone to make her see it. “Hey? Thank you,” she says, and means it wholly. “I might not be moving there quite yet.”
They chat for a moment longer, slowly drifting from the initial topic to everything and nothing. When the call finally ends Gwiboon stays right there on the couch, eyes closed, lost in her thoughts. At least she’s not angry anymore. She just feels this strange emptiness, like air has stilled around her. Like the calm before the storm. She’s not sure what to make of it.
Several hours later, Jinki finally calls back and Gwiboon doesn’t even need to ask before he announces he’s coming over. He brings snacks and three bottles of wine, and Gwiboon sort of wishes she really could marry Jinki since he is all kinds of perfect. Especially when he allows her to lean against him and snuggle close, as they’re sipping on their first glasses of wine.
The companionable silence does the trick and calms Gwiboon down until she’s feeling mostly like her normal self. She can’t get rid of the hollow ache in her chest, but then again, she supposes that’d be too much to ask for, especially so soon. A part of her wants to call Minho, or go to him, and talk things through until they’d be back where they were before this mess. Yet another part, the stubborn part, feels that she was wronged and doesn’t want to give in.
She sighs, and apparently that works as a cue for Jinki to squeeze her shoulder and reach for the bottle to fill their glasses again. “So, want to explain what happened?”
Gwiboon knows that she could say no and he wouldn’t press it, but she needs him to know. She explains how her parents behaved, how her mother called her, and how she stormed off to Minho’s place only to end up fighting with him as well. She’s glad she has the glass in her hand since she can take a sip to calm her nerves every now and then.
Talking about it should’ve calmed her down and sorted out her thoughts, she thinks, but it’s pretty much the opposite of what happens. The myriad of emotions is back again, and when she talks about the argument she almost feels like the lump in her throat might end up choking her. She tries to cover it up the best she can, even though she knows Jinki will see through it anyway. “Don’t worry,” she finishes, with a weak chuckle. “I’m not moving to China. At least not yet. It was a stupid thought, anyway.” She downs the rest of the wine in her glass in one go, reaching for the bottle. This time she foregoes the glass completely and sips right from it.
“Well.” Jinki smiles, softly. “It wouldn’t be stupid if you really wanted it. But do you?”
“No.” She doesn’t even need to think about it. The answer is obvious. “I just feel… I’m really angry at my parents. I don’t want to see them even on accident, and I know I need to work out how to get rid of this apartment and how to make sure I’m not financially dependant on them anymore. I just haven’t had the time to think about it, at all. I’ve been too busy thinking of ways to run away as far as I can.” By the end of it she’s speaking so fast she’s surprised she isn’t tripping over her words.
Jinki notices how she’s trying to work herself into near hysterics again, and pats her knee. “We’ll sort it out. It’s not going to be hard, you don’t pay them rent so you can basically just move out. The rest we can plan later.” He knows, from experience, that he just needs to be patient.
For a moment Gwiboon is silent, allowing her thoughts to run free. She has the bag of peanuts on her lap, eating them in between the pretty generous sips of wine, and as soon as she’s emptied the bottle she sets it down on the floor, gesturing for the next one. With a sigh, Jinki opens it, but only gives her half a glass. “Have you called Minho?” he asks to break the silence.
Gwiboon sighs, shaking her head. “No.” She doesn’t know if her call would be even welcomed now, after she made such a spectacle and then ran away right after without even giving Minho the chance to say anything. It’s not something she wants to discuss over the phone, honestly.
Jinki hums, thoughtfully. “Did you two break up?”
The question alone makes Gwiboon’s head ache. Maybe she overdid it with the wine. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she gives another slow headshake. “I… don’t know. I really don’t know.” Admitting it out loud sucks even more than realizing that she really has no idea what the argument led to, where it left them.
Jinki’s answer is a nod. Then, he asks the question that holds the most importance. “Do you want to break up with him?”
This time, she needs no time to think. “No.”
The reply seems to satisfy Jinki as he finally attends his own glass of wine, takes a small sip and then grins brightly at Gwiboon. “Then you’ll just go there tomorrow. Apologize,” he says, giving a happy little shrug, “get your man back.”
She laughs. “You make it sound so easy!”
“It is,” he nods, “it is.”
For the second time within a week Minho wakes up feeling like crap. This time, there’s no hangover to explain that away, but he simply couldn’t sleep at all because of the thoughts that kept running to and fro in his mind. He keeps replaying the argument, every word that was said, and by the end of it he doesn’t even know how much of it is how things really went down and how much his tired mind managed to muddle things up.
In the morning he drags himself out of bed and into the shower. He gets dressed, nibbles on his breakfast and drinks four cups of coffee. Despite all that, he can’t bring himself to go to work so he calls Jonghyun and asks him to just lock up and go home too. One missed day of business isn’t going to kill them. Jonghyun notices immediately that something is up and asks if he should come over but Minho tells him he’s fine. He knows that Jonghyun doesn’t believe him, but thankfully he doesn’t pry and lets it be.
Eventually Minho ends up sitting on the couch, thumbing his phone as he tries to decide whether he should call Gwiboon or not. He’s not sure how the proper etiquette goes with these things. Is he supposed to give her space and wait until she calls him, if ever? Or is he supposed to call her as soon as possible, to show that he’s not ready to let things just fall apart like this? It’s not like he particularly wants to make the call since talking about something like this over the phone feels somehow wrong, but he doesn’t even want to imagine all the ways it could become a disaster if he suddenly appeared on her doorstep.
He never really got the chance to get angry, since the whole argument happened so fast it ended up being pretty onesided. He barely had time to understand what was going on, and only later, when Gwiboon was long gone, his temper flared and he decided he wouldn’t be the first one to make a move to reconcile. A decision he managed to give up less than an hour after he made it. He knows they both said things they shouldn’t have, spoke without thinking, and he doesn’t care who’s the one who ends it and starts fixing things. As long as it happens.
With a frustrated, deep sigh Minho throws himself back on the couch, with his long legs dangling over the armrest. How do people even deal with situations like these? It’s not like this is the first time he’s argued with someone, or with Gwiboon. Yet it’s the first time an argument leaves him feeling this uneasy, like it might actually ruin something he’s not ready to let go.
He feels sick to his stomach at the mere thought of losing Gwiboon. Maybe that’s what makes him finally get over the hesitation and press the ‘call’ button. He chews on his lower lip, probably hard enough to leave it swollen, as he waits for Gwiboon to pick up the phone. He counts each beep, until it becomes apparent that she’s not going to answer, and in a fit of frustration Minho lets his phone drop to the floor. It makes a slight cracking sound, but he doesn’t bother to check if it’s still in one piece.
Fine. If she doesn’t want to hear him out, he’s …
The ringing of the doorbell effectively cuts his thoughts. For a second Minho considers the merits of just ignoring it, as it’s probably either Jonghyun or someone trying to sell things he’s not even remotely interested in. After it sounds one more time, though, he heaves himself up from the couch and starts towards the door. He rakes his fingers through his hair, hoping to tame the mop to a slightly more presentable hairdo, since he’s fairly sure he looks like a walking zombie right now.
He doesn’t expect to see Gwiboon standing at his door as soon as he swings it open. He definitely doesn’t expect to see Gwiboon with a whole bunch of suitcases and bags piled at her feet. And he knows he’s gaping at the sight, stunned into silence, since after a moment Gwiboon reaches out to gently tap his chin. “Close your mouth, Minho. That’s really not attractive.”
With a snap, Minho does as he’s told, shaking his head a little as if it could clear his mind and make him see right, instead of this illusion that his tired brain has obviously conjured to torture him. “What… just what is going on?” he manages to ask, eventually.
Gwiboon gives a small shrug and a grin. “I’m moving in! Make room in the bathroom, I have at least one suitcase full of beauty products to fit in there, it’s not like I remain this gorgeous just because mother nature has been kind to me.” She speaks as if she’s completely sure of herself, yet there’s clear hesitance in her tone, in her posture, in the line of her shoulders.
“You’re?” Minho asks, before he realizes it’s not really a question at all. “You’re moving in? I thought you didn’t want to, at least before you’d finished your studies and -”
He doesn’t get any further before she stops him, placing a hand on his chest. “Look, Minho. I am really sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have barged in when I was still angry, I just took it all out on you. Besides, you were right, I really don’t want to move away and leave my life here behind. Not if you’re not coming with me. And since you asked me, repeatedly, if I’d want to live together, I figured… well, here I am.” She pauses, smiles softly up at him. “I’m here to stay. That is, if you’ll still have me.”
It takes Minho a moment to process all the information in his mind. It takes long enough for Gwiboon to interpret his silence wrong and begin to retreat, but that’s when he finally jumps into action and gently grabs her wrist to hold her hand in place. “If I’ll still have you? …for God’s sake I want to marry you!” he bursts out, and that cues another stunned silence. He doesn’t let it go on for long this time, though, but instead allows a bright smile to break free. “Gwiboon. Will you marry me?”
She can’t stop smiling, either, her cheeks hurting from the way she’s grinning so wide and she jumps him, throwing her arms and legs around him. “Hell fucking yes I will!” she announces, so loud that probably the whole building hears her. But it doesn’t matter, nothing else matters but the way she’s clinging on to him, the way he is hugging her back almost too tightly, and the way their laughter echoes off the walls of the corridor.
Eventually Gwiboon pulls back enough to crush their mouths together in a kiss that holds a slight hint of desperation, and a whole lot of relief now that they know that things will work out between them. It’s like straight from one of those romantic comedies they kept laughing at and comparing themselves to, and they wouldn’t even want it any other way right now. There’s going to be some serious talking in the immediate future, but in silent agreement they decide that now is not the time for it.
They keep kissing until Minho’s arms are aching from holding Gwiboon up, until they’re both slightly out of breath from it. She wriggles a little, then, and he lets her down on the ground to stand on her own two feet. “Now,” she says, inhaling sharply as her voice almost breaks already at that single word, “let’s drag all of this inside before someone steals my stuff, okay?”
He laughs, and obligingly grabs two large suitcases to haul them into the living room.
Later, much later, they’re tangled as much in the sheets as they are in each other, and neither of them wants to get up anytime soon. They spent the majority of the evening unpacking the essentials, and trying to figure out a place for the rest of the bags and suitcases for the time being. Not much was spoken, but they kept migrating towards each other as if they couldn’t go too far for the fear of hurting the careful balance.
It’s only now, when they’re lying in bed in almost complete darkness, silent save for the soft breaths and the frantic heartbeats, that they finally talk about something other than ‘where do you want to put the makeup’ or ‘should we buy a new closet’. Minho is slowly stroking spirals into Gwiboon’s back as he speaks, voice low and rough from the lack of use. “What about your parents?”
“What about them?” Gwiboon asks. She instinctively tenses at the mere mention of them, but Minho doesn’t stop the soothing touches and it makes her gradually relax back against him, seeking the shared warmth. “Well, they’ll either disown me and have nothing to do with me, or they’ll make a huge scene and try to threaten you out of my life.” She tilts her head, presses a small kiss in the hollow of his collarbone. “But fuck if I care. They can shove their money right up their asses.”
That makes Minho laugh, although he knows it’s sort of inappropriate. It’s not really funny, if one thinks of it, but it’s not like he can burst into tears either. Now that they’re on the topic of wealth, he figures he can as well address the other thing that’s pressing on his mind. “You do realize that I’m not rich?” He winces slightly even as he says it, because it comes out more condescending than he wanted it to.
Gwiboon doesn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, she scoffs at him and reaches up to cuff his head. “Don’t you think we’ve come a bit far for you to have that crisis now?” she says, glaring at him the best she can. It’s not very effective considering that it’s so dark he only sees her features vaguely, and that her hair is sticking in every direction making her look more adorable than threatening. She’s immediately rewarded with a soft kiss, one that makes her sigh happily and strain upwards until she can deepen it slightly.
After, she happily collapses back on him, not caring in the slightest that it knocks the air out of him. Not that he cares, either, he just huffs out a laugh and twines his arms around her waist again. “Don’t even dare to go there,” Gwiboon mumbles, “I’m not marrying you for your money. Besides, we’ll make it work. We’ll make your garage the biggest fucking garage in the city!”
“Our garage,” he cuts in, grinning. It makes him stupidly giddy to say that. It makes him stupidly giddy to even think that they’re engaged, even if they’re still lacking the rings. And whatever is his is now definitely hers too, as cliché as it makes him.
Gwiboon pulls back far enough to grin at him. “Now why did that sound so romantic?” she asks, laughing. “It definitely should not be romantic! I bet no other man has yet wooed a woman by promises of co-owning a garage.” Yet she can’t deny, either, that having a concrete promise of a life built together is a better mood-lifter than pretty much anything else she could think of.
“You’re just so far gone,” Minho points out, the grin turning sort of smug. “Admit it, you’ve fallen head over heels for me, there’s no turning back. You may as well accept your fate.”
He means it as a joke, but he receives a completely serious reply. “Yes, I have.” She looks at him straight, and only when he doesn’t react immediately to the words she rolls her eyes. “Did you maybe miss it when I told you I love you? Or do you have ears only as decoration?”
“No, no I didn’t miss it,” he says, underlining the words with a quick headshake. He smiles goofily, unable to hold it back as damn, he remembers that moment and thinking of it makes him as happy as living it in the first place did. He slides his hands lower, over the curve of her butt, and grabs the backs of her thighs to hike her even closer. She nods forward until their foreheads are pressed together, and they’re just grinning stupidly at one another.
“You ass,” Gwiboon chuckles. “The least you could do is say it back. Or sing that serenade now that you’re sober.”
“I just can’t believe all this,” Minho admits. “When I woke up I wasn’t sure if you’d ever wanna see me again and now we’re facing the life sentence together. Like, a house, picket fence, kids running around with pets…” He trails off, overwhelmed by all of the thoughts and images, the hopes and dreams that run through him at once.
“Hmmmh.” She makes a happy noise and places open mouthed kisses along his ridiculously long neck. She ends the trail with a scrape of her teeth, the light bite making him arch upwards into it in surprise. “Hold your horses there, man,” she says, amused. “Remember, five year plan! No kids in the immediate future. I’m not abandoning that just because you proposed.”
“I know, I know,” he laughs, “but I did promise you the dog, didn’t I?” The words are slightly breathless, just because she’s apparently determined to render him completely incapable of speaking. She knows the exact right way to run her nails down his sides, not too hard but not too gentle, and when she slots one leg between his, she barely needs to shift forward to make him gasp.
“Yeah, you did,” she admits, obviously enjoying the power she holds over him, how she is allowed to have him like this, at her mercy. Not that she’d ever misuse that, she knows how to make it a good deal for both parties involved. She kisses him, slow and unhurried, like they have all the time in the world, and he has no choice but to succumb. Even when it breaks naturally, she keeps gently nipping at his lower lip, enjoying the fullness of it. Until she speaks up unexpectedly. “And we seriously need to buy a new bed.”
Minho blames both the kiss and the touches for not really following that train of thought. He arches both eyebrows, just staring at her for a second dumbly, before he manages a coherent question. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“It’s not big enough,” she says, as if it should be obvious and as if anyone should be able to see it. “And I want one with a proper headboard! I have ideas I want to put into action.” Minho’s sort of loves the self-satisfied, wicked smirk on Gwiboon’s face, and it makes him pretty much mirror the expression.
“Ideas?” he asks. “Should I be worried?” The only thing that worries him right now is that she’s way too controlled right now, and he vows to change that. One large palm stays in its place on the back of her thigh, but he slips the other hand between her legs to pay her back with some teasing of his own. She doesn’t object, but instead rocks her hips into the touch with a delighted little hum.
“No,” she still manages to answer, albeit breathlessly. “You should look forward to them. I promise, you’ll end up begging for more.”
Somehow, Minho doesn’t have any doubts that it’ll be exactly how things will play out. She has pretty much already managed to convince him of the necessity of a new bed, with a proper headboard, but she doesn’t need to know that just yet. Feigning innocence, he blinks up at her. “Tell me more about those plans.”
She does.
“C’mon, Minho! We were supposed to leave already an hour ago,” Gwiboon calls into the apartment, and only gets a muffled curse as a reply. She sighs, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she shifts on her feet, impatiently waiting by the door. It’s getting too hot, as she’s already wearing a light jacket and her stylish new boots, and for some reason the temperature in their apartment is turned up abnormally high.
Maybe she’s impatient also because she knows they’re headed to a pet shelter that closes fairly early, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s incredibly annoyed by how Minho has one of those days when he takes an hour to find a matching pair of socks. Finally Minho appears from the living room, cheeks slightly flushed, and fucking finally pocketing his lost keys, Gwiboon just frowns at him. Maybe she can convey her disapproval that way.
Minho knows her too well to even bat an eye, though. He leans down and places a kiss on her lips, patting her back to make her move. “Now c’mon, you were yelling at me for the past half an hour for being so slow. Are we going or not?” He’s grinning, and a part of Gwiboon wants to smack that expression off his face. She doesn’t, though, but instead kisses it off. Same difference.
“Fine. You’ll drive. And after, we’re getting takeout,” she orders, finally marching outside.
They make it in time at the shelter, but the decision proves to be more than difficult. Minho sort of wants to take a dozen of cats and dogs home, along with a few bunnies and other soft and cuddly things. Hell, he might have a thing for cute animals, sue him. He doesn’t need to admit that soft spot to anyone.
Finally, after what feels like an endless day of heartbreak knowing they can’t bring home more than one pet, Gwiboon announces she’s made her decision. The worker that has accompanied them most of the time seems pleased by this, and before they even know it there’s a dog deposited in her arms while the worker announces he’s going to go pre-fill out the paperwork.
Minho stares at the dog for a moment, before the words burst out of him. “You can’t be serious!” He frowns, confused, tilting his head as if that could make the animal look different. “That dog looks like a rat!”
“Minho! You can’t call this little cutie pie a rat! No, we’re getting him,” she protectively cradles the little dog in her arms, and the dog seems very pleased about that. “Hello, Vuitton. You’ll be nice to your new mom, won’t you? Good boy,” she coos, and the dog seems to agree. At least judging by the way he shifts slightly in Gwiboon’s hold and reaches to lick her neck in an affectionate gesture.
“…Vuitton?” Minho asks incredulously. He’s still staring at the little rat, and can’t help but think that in his imagination getting a dog would have consisted of an animal much bigger and… furrier? He would’ve liked a nice golden retriever or so, not one of these little things he’s afraid he’s going to step on accidentally.
“Yes,” Gwiboon says with a fond smile. She’s obviously in love already. “His name. And we’re getting him.” The feeling seems to be mutual, as the dog nuzzles against Gwiboon, like he’s always belonged right there and has no intention of ever going anywhere.
Minho can’t deny, he’s still a little hesitant, but he figures he can’t judge a book by its cover. Or a dog by its… appearance, whatever. Slowly he reaches out, intending on petting the dog, to maybe get to know him. Yet he withdraws his hand in record speed when the dog has the audacity to growl at him to warn him off. “We can’t have a dog that hates my guts,” he says, with a frown.
“Of course he’s mad at you,” Gwiboon huffs. “You called him a rat! He’s going to forgive, as long as you’ll be nice to him.”
Her mind is set, so Minho figures he can’t do much else but agree. It’s going to be two against one anyway, so he might as well give in without a fight. Even though he can already imagine how the dog is going to chew on all the wires - of course only of the appliances he uses - and piss in his toolbox and scratch his car, only to list a few.
Then again, his annoyance is slightly alleviated when they go buy more supplies and Gwiboon decides to buy Vuitton a pink collar with sparkly studs. Minho swears, if dogs get appalled, they wear the exact same look that Vuitton does as he’s stuck with that piece of questionable fashion. Minho thanks his luck that he’s not going to be forced into anything that horrid.
Maybe he’ll learn to get along with the dog, eventually. Nothing stops him from trying.
As soon as they arrive home, the new addition to their little family seems to find a place for himself on the comfortable, fluffy carpet in front of the couch. He curls up happily, completely ignoring the dog basket and the food bowls, and seems to fall asleep right after a wide yawn. It sort of looks adorable, Minho has to admit. He’s already growing fond of the dog, so now he only needs to make sure it’s mutual.
This is not the time for any of that, though. Instead they break out the takeout, sitting cross-legged on the couch with the containers between them. The TV isn’t running, there’s no music or no background noise, and neither of them can be bothered to get up and change that fact.
“Next time,” Minho begins when he’s managed to already destroy pretty much half of the food. “I’ll get to pick the dog.” It’s not like it’s a big issue for him, really, but he can’t get it out of his mind how many animals they saw in need of a home, and he doesn’t think having two dogs would be much more work than one. As long as they don’t both hate him.
“Alright,” Gwiboon answers easily, with a small shrug. “Something tells me you’ll just find the biggest dog available, and pick based on that alone.” She’s grinning, as she can really imagine that happening. Somehow, it’d be pretty much perfect, too. Don’t people say that dogs are supposed to represent their owners?
Minho at least doesn’t even bother to try denying her assumptions. He only grins around a mouthful of food and nods. “Hell yes.” He has some sauce stains in the corner of his mouth, which is unusual considering how he’s usually the cleaner eater of the two, and Gwiboon just can’t resist leaning in to kiss the stain off.
In the process she manages to lose her balance and fall right over. She ends up face first into Minho’s chest, while lying on the remains of their food, and after the initial oh my god what did I just do she can’t help but burst out laughing. Helplessly she clutches at Minho’s shirt, trying to scramble upwards since the sauce is soaking through her clothes already. “Oh my god this is so gross!”
She barely manages to sit up before there’s a flurry of movement and suddenly there’s a little dog sitting on her lap, gnawing on the stained shirt as if it’s the most delicious thing in the whole wide world.
They laugh until their bellies hurt from it, until their cheeks ache from all the smiling.
When Gwiboon first walked into that garage all those months ago, she had no idea it would end up changing her life this much. She doesn’t think she even realized it when she was already well on her way to falling in love. Yet now that it’s done, now that there’s no going back, she wouldn’t change it for the world.
He’s everything she’s not. She fills in what he’s lacking. That is all they need.
That’s what makes them inseparable.
EXTRAS 1
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So now that it’s all over some thanks are in order.
First of all, I need to thank Nina. Without her, this fic would have never been conceived. I want to thank her for holding my hand through the whole (extremely long and difficult) labour pains as I was trying to give birth to this fic. Here it is now, Nina, our baby! You are a father now, when are you going to make an honest woman out of me and propose?
Secondly, there are two other friends I want to thank: Hannah for her incredibly valuable suggestions and help when it was direly needed, and Piu for her unfaltering support and encouragement! You both helped me a lot during this process. Do you want to be the godmothers of this child? 8)
Thirdly, I want to thank every single person who has shown interest towards this fic either by commenting, by liking and/or reblogging this on tumblr, or by otherwise letting me know this wasn’t written in vain for an empty audience. I love and cherish each and every one of you! Without you this wouldn’t have been possible!
Now imagine me dramatically burst in tears like one should after every great thank you -speech.
This is (I think?) the longest fic I’ve written, and it was supposed to be just a quick smutty oneshot with a car mechanic Minho, haha what is my lifeeeee. I even have a few drabbles written for this verse, I’m going to post them sometime in the near future :3 (also, secret hint: if you would like to see a certain moment as a little drabble, you can always prompt me and I’ll see what I can do!)
Also, I’ve now successfully written not only regular minkey but also het!minkey and lesbian!minkey so I think I’ve got all the bases covered, right? This pairing just does it for me in all of these variations ;; Otp ;;
Anyhow! I’ll finally shut up now. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did :D
@DW.