How They Are i
rating: PG
genre: au, romance
pairing: minho/key
length: chaptered
word count: ~1k wc
summary: in which minho and key fall in and out of love.
How They Are
A story by Yoonis
How they sort of argue
Minho had an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t reach in the duration of his drive home from the office. Finally, as he kicked off his shoes by the door, one palm pressed to the wall, he was free to scratch as he pleased. There was struggle. At first, it was the debate of whether to attack the itch from the south or the north. Just seconds into it, he decided that he didn’t give a fuck that he looked as though he were swatting off an invisible bee that had a penchant for the valley of his shoulder blades. He sighed when he made contact; nails on fabric on skin.
He couldn’t reach far enough. Just beyond his reach was the source, the ultimate itch if you will. Luckily, Minho didn’t have to suffer long as a spare hand was helping him out, the owner of said hand, already tilting his head to the side slightly. “Idiot. You could have called me.”
Kibum’s breath was warm. Minho craned his neck just enough to smile at Kibum with his profile. “I thought you were busy.”
“It’s a back-scratch, Minho. Not a heart operation.”
“You do those too?”
Kibum pinched the skin on his back. Funny how an act of comfort could easily dissolve into something of malice. Kibum did so swiftly, wearing a smile that bore no semblance of remorse. “You forgot the wine, didn’t you?”
“What wine?”
“Minho.” Kibum undid the apron where it knotted around his back, walking back to the kitchen.
He was pissed. Minho could tell by the way he said his name just then. Also, in the recent years of their marriage, Kibum had been short with him. Minho’s memory flashed a text message to him that he got earlier while in the car, too concentrated on the stupid itch on his back. “Fuck. I forgot. I’ll get it now.”
Kibum walked around the island counter that divided the kitchen and the dining area. When they first moved in, Kibum had said it was his favorite part of the house. Minho was only a little jealous that he was in competition with an inanimate object for his husband’s affection. When he had mentioned the notion, Kibum laughed - more like guffawed. He had looked at Minho then as though he were a petulant child, Kibum’s favorite one.
“They’re coming in like ten minutes,” said Kibum.
“That’s plenty of time,” Minho was already putting his shoes back on. “If I’m not back then, you can start without me.”
“Don’t be stupid. We can’t start without the wine.”
Again, Minho was only a little pissed. His husband just knocked him a few pegs lower than a bottle of wine, but whatever. Kibum talked out of his ass a lot of the time. He didn’t mean it like that.
--
With gum stuck to his shoe and sweaty underarms, Minho managed to make it back in the house just in time to freshen up and look less, as Kibum lovingly put it, homeless.
By the time Minho was fixing his hair and buttoning up the collar of his shirt, he heard the front door open from the bedroom, soon followed by Taemin’s voice. He was bringing his new girlfriend over and according to Kibum, she was awfully sweet; possibly much too much for a boy of Taemin’s stature. “He’d tire of her in a month, tops.”
Minho wanted to keep a bit more faith. His cousin, Taemin, had a reputation for going through girls as often as he did shirts, but he knew his intentions. Plus, with the way things were nowadays with dating and the younger generation, it really was hit or miss. Taemin just knew what he wanted.
Minho joined the exchange of pleasantries, finally introduced to Taemin’s girlfriend. “Hi! I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Same,” she said in response.
“Son Naeun, was it?”
She nodded, holding out a Tupperware of food. Minho took it with both hands because he knew that Kibum wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole while in full astronaut gear. Kibum didn’t enjoy food in plastic containers, just one of his many charming qualities. “It’s sweet rice cakes. My mom owns a store of them back in Korea.”
Both Minho and Kibum weren’t particularly fond of the dish, but Minho bowed and smiled because he appreciated the gesture. Taemin supplied, “they’re really good,” just to knee Minho’s conscience in the balls. “I’m sure they are, Naeun-sshi. Please, come in. I’ll put these in the fridge for now.”
“Thank you. I love your loft, by the way.”
Minho answered as he walked to the kitchen. “Thanks! Kibum bought all of the art.”
“And put everything up,” Kibum added.
Taemin’s eyes landed on the biggest painting of the inside of a cathedral posted above the couch. The fault was that Minho knows Taemin so well, and he knows that what caught Taemin’s attention was mostly the frame. Minho brought out the wine and four glasses.
--
“Is this your first time in New York?” Minho asked as he cut into his steak.
Naeun skipped the wine (the tips of Minho’s ears might have turned red earlier and perhaps Kibum smiled too, and those might have been two separate things) and opted for water. Taemin drank enough for the both of them. He was always a good drinker, and he drank anything alcoholic, no matter how soft or strong.
“It is, yeah,” Naeun answered. “I really like it so far.”
“I take it that Taemin has showed you to all the tourist spots already?”
Taemin laughed, but it was a surface-level one that was more to echo Naeun’s polite one. “Twine already.”
Kibum cocked a brow. “Twine?”
Naeun, embarrassed, placed her fork on the plate and covered her mouth as she chewed and spoke at the same time, “I meant to say twice. Sorry, I must have wine on the mind.”
“There’s still more,” Minho offered.
“I really shouldn’t.”
“I insist. You’ll take a cab home anyways.”
“No, I…” Naeun paused.
While Taemin rubbed the pad of his thumb along the dull end of the knife, he said simply, “She’s pregnant.”
The way they went silent after that, he might as well had told them that she was dying. Minho might have considered both one and the same. Luckily, he didn’t have to lead in with a lackluster “Wow” - he hadn’t even managed to put his hand down, still frozen from where he was supposed to pour wine into Naeun’s glass. Kibum stood up and walked over to her, giving her a hug.
Minho aimed a betrayed glance at Taemin, who wasn’t meeting it, instead distracted by Naeun crying tears of relief in Kibum’s shoulder.
--
“I haven’t gone to the doctor yet so I don’t know when I’m due, but…”
They were sat on two couches, divided by a coffee table. Naeun saddled up to Taemin, and what space should have been between them was seated between Kibum and Minho on the opposite couch.
“So this is the big news.” Kibum crossed his legs, attention bouncing between the two. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, hyung,” Taemin said. “That’s actually not all of it. I wanted to ask you both to be my best men.”
“For what?” That question earned Minho a glare from Kibum.
“For my - well, our wedding.” Taemin placed an arm around Naeun’s shoulders. She smiled up at him.
Kibum spoke before Minho could, “We’d love to!”
Love was a strong word. Just as strong as hate.
Suddenly, all eyes were on Minho. Minho smiled and nodded, crossing his arms across his chest. “You’ve set a date?”
“I was thinking next year. A summer wedding,” Naeun tucked her hair behind her ear, and Taemin smiled at the gesture. “I want something small.”
Kibum said the same thing too, Minho thought. “That sounds good. Also, Taemin,” Minho added, unable to stop himself, “I don’t think you can have two best men.”
“Says who?”
“Tradition, law? God?” Minho looked to Kibum for agreement.
Kibum shook his head. “I think it’s fine? It’s his wedding.”
“Exactly,” Taemin agreed. “Besides, I can’t think of anyone other than the two of you to be there with me.”
“Really.” Minho said, dubious.
That made Taemin laugh. “It’s true. Yours is the kind of marriage that I want to have.”
“Really?” Minho wished that Kibum didn’t sound as surprised as he really was.
“He talks so highly of the both of you,” Naeun said. “He tells me about you all the time. That’s mostly why I wanted to meet you.”
Minho saw Kibum’s stare crawl to the bottom of the coffee table. There, beneath magazines was a leatherette accordion case that housed divorce papers. Relationships were fragile in that they could all end in writing -- the ghost of heart skipping a beat. Kibum met Minho’s eyes. He wasn’t going to say anything tonight. Neither was Minho.
“If you don’t mind,” Naeun said, “ could I ask how you two met?”
“He saw me, he fell in love with me. That’s basically it.” Kibum answered.
Minho almost pulled off looking insulted.
“Taemin said the same thing.” Naeun’s hands were folded over each other on her lap. “He also said that I should just ask you.”
“Didn’t you meet at a coffee shop?” Taemin asked.
“Party, actually.” Belatedly, Minho realized what Taemin just did. By then, Taemin was already grinning, Naeun was attentive, and Kibum was leaning back into the couch. He almost looked worried, nipping at his thumbnail.
*masterficlist | tumblr | twitter | comment here to be added
-- for linnhe, who has always been supportive of me and my writing. <3
genre: au, romance
pairing: minho/key
length: chaptered
word count: ~1k wc
summary: in which minho and key fall in and out of love.
How They Are
A story by Yoonis
How they sort of argue
Minho had an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t reach in the duration of his drive home from the office. Finally, as he kicked off his shoes by the door, one palm pressed to the wall, he was free to scratch as he pleased. There was struggle. At first, it was the debate of whether to attack the itch from the south or the north. Just seconds into it, he decided that he didn’t give a fuck that he looked as though he were swatting off an invisible bee that had a penchant for the valley of his shoulder blades. He sighed when he made contact; nails on fabric on skin.
He couldn’t reach far enough. Just beyond his reach was the source, the ultimate itch if you will. Luckily, Minho didn’t have to suffer long as a spare hand was helping him out, the owner of said hand, already tilting his head to the side slightly. “Idiot. You could have called me.”
Kibum’s breath was warm. Minho craned his neck just enough to smile at Kibum with his profile. “I thought you were busy.”
“It’s a back-scratch, Minho. Not a heart operation.”
“You do those too?”
Kibum pinched the skin on his back. Funny how an act of comfort could easily dissolve into something of malice. Kibum did so swiftly, wearing a smile that bore no semblance of remorse. “You forgot the wine, didn’t you?”
“What wine?”
“Minho.” Kibum undid the apron where it knotted around his back, walking back to the kitchen.
He was pissed. Minho could tell by the way he said his name just then. Also, in the recent years of their marriage, Kibum had been short with him. Minho’s memory flashed a text message to him that he got earlier while in the car, too concentrated on the stupid itch on his back. “Fuck. I forgot. I’ll get it now.”
Kibum walked around the island counter that divided the kitchen and the dining area. When they first moved in, Kibum had said it was his favorite part of the house. Minho was only a little jealous that he was in competition with an inanimate object for his husband’s affection. When he had mentioned the notion, Kibum laughed - more like guffawed. He had looked at Minho then as though he were a petulant child, Kibum’s favorite one.
“They’re coming in like ten minutes,” said Kibum.
“That’s plenty of time,” Minho was already putting his shoes back on. “If I’m not back then, you can start without me.”
“Don’t be stupid. We can’t start without the wine.”
Again, Minho was only a little pissed. His husband just knocked him a few pegs lower than a bottle of wine, but whatever. Kibum talked out of his ass a lot of the time. He didn’t mean it like that.
--
With gum stuck to his shoe and sweaty underarms, Minho managed to make it back in the house just in time to freshen up and look less, as Kibum lovingly put it, homeless.
By the time Minho was fixing his hair and buttoning up the collar of his shirt, he heard the front door open from the bedroom, soon followed by Taemin’s voice. He was bringing his new girlfriend over and according to Kibum, she was awfully sweet; possibly much too much for a boy of Taemin’s stature. “He’d tire of her in a month, tops.”
Minho wanted to keep a bit more faith. His cousin, Taemin, had a reputation for going through girls as often as he did shirts, but he knew his intentions. Plus, with the way things were nowadays with dating and the younger generation, it really was hit or miss. Taemin just knew what he wanted.
Minho joined the exchange of pleasantries, finally introduced to Taemin’s girlfriend. “Hi! I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Same,” she said in response.
“Son Naeun, was it?”
She nodded, holding out a Tupperware of food. Minho took it with both hands because he knew that Kibum wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole while in full astronaut gear. Kibum didn’t enjoy food in plastic containers, just one of his many charming qualities. “It’s sweet rice cakes. My mom owns a store of them back in Korea.”
Both Minho and Kibum weren’t particularly fond of the dish, but Minho bowed and smiled because he appreciated the gesture. Taemin supplied, “they’re really good,” just to knee Minho’s conscience in the balls. “I’m sure they are, Naeun-sshi. Please, come in. I’ll put these in the fridge for now.”
“Thank you. I love your loft, by the way.”
Minho answered as he walked to the kitchen. “Thanks! Kibum bought all of the art.”
“And put everything up,” Kibum added.
Taemin’s eyes landed on the biggest painting of the inside of a cathedral posted above the couch. The fault was that Minho knows Taemin so well, and he knows that what caught Taemin’s attention was mostly the frame. Minho brought out the wine and four glasses.
--
“Is this your first time in New York?” Minho asked as he cut into his steak.
Naeun skipped the wine (the tips of Minho’s ears might have turned red earlier and perhaps Kibum smiled too, and those might have been two separate things) and opted for water. Taemin drank enough for the both of them. He was always a good drinker, and he drank anything alcoholic, no matter how soft or strong.
“It is, yeah,” Naeun answered. “I really like it so far.”
“I take it that Taemin has showed you to all the tourist spots already?”
Taemin laughed, but it was a surface-level one that was more to echo Naeun’s polite one. “Twine already.”
Kibum cocked a brow. “Twine?”
Naeun, embarrassed, placed her fork on the plate and covered her mouth as she chewed and spoke at the same time, “I meant to say twice. Sorry, I must have wine on the mind.”
“There’s still more,” Minho offered.
“I really shouldn’t.”
“I insist. You’ll take a cab home anyways.”
“No, I…” Naeun paused.
While Taemin rubbed the pad of his thumb along the dull end of the knife, he said simply, “She’s pregnant.”
The way they went silent after that, he might as well had told them that she was dying. Minho might have considered both one and the same. Luckily, he didn’t have to lead in with a lackluster “Wow” - he hadn’t even managed to put his hand down, still frozen from where he was supposed to pour wine into Naeun’s glass. Kibum stood up and walked over to her, giving her a hug.
Minho aimed a betrayed glance at Taemin, who wasn’t meeting it, instead distracted by Naeun crying tears of relief in Kibum’s shoulder.
--
“I haven’t gone to the doctor yet so I don’t know when I’m due, but…”
They were sat on two couches, divided by a coffee table. Naeun saddled up to Taemin, and what space should have been between them was seated between Kibum and Minho on the opposite couch.
“So this is the big news.” Kibum crossed his legs, attention bouncing between the two. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, hyung,” Taemin said. “That’s actually not all of it. I wanted to ask you both to be my best men.”
“For what?” That question earned Minho a glare from Kibum.
“For my - well, our wedding.” Taemin placed an arm around Naeun’s shoulders. She smiled up at him.
Kibum spoke before Minho could, “We’d love to!”
Love was a strong word. Just as strong as hate.
Suddenly, all eyes were on Minho. Minho smiled and nodded, crossing his arms across his chest. “You’ve set a date?”
“I was thinking next year. A summer wedding,” Naeun tucked her hair behind her ear, and Taemin smiled at the gesture. “I want something small.”
Kibum said the same thing too, Minho thought. “That sounds good. Also, Taemin,” Minho added, unable to stop himself, “I don’t think you can have two best men.”
“Says who?”
“Tradition, law? God?” Minho looked to Kibum for agreement.
Kibum shook his head. “I think it’s fine? It’s his wedding.”
“Exactly,” Taemin agreed. “Besides, I can’t think of anyone other than the two of you to be there with me.”
“Really.” Minho said, dubious.
That made Taemin laugh. “It’s true. Yours is the kind of marriage that I want to have.”
“Really?” Minho wished that Kibum didn’t sound as surprised as he really was.
“He talks so highly of the both of you,” Naeun said. “He tells me about you all the time. That’s mostly why I wanted to meet you.”
Minho saw Kibum’s stare crawl to the bottom of the coffee table. There, beneath magazines was a leatherette accordion case that housed divorce papers. Relationships were fragile in that they could all end in writing -- the ghost of heart skipping a beat. Kibum met Minho’s eyes. He wasn’t going to say anything tonight. Neither was Minho.
“If you don’t mind,” Naeun said, “ could I ask how you two met?”
“He saw me, he fell in love with me. That’s basically it.” Kibum answered.
Minho almost pulled off looking insulted.
“Taemin said the same thing.” Naeun’s hands were folded over each other on her lap. “He also said that I should just ask you.”
“Didn’t you meet at a coffee shop?” Taemin asked.
“Party, actually.” Belatedly, Minho realized what Taemin just did. By then, Taemin was already grinning, Naeun was attentive, and Kibum was leaning back into the couch. He almost looked worried, nipping at his thumbnail.
*masterficlist | tumblr | twitter | comment here to be added
-- for linnhe, who has always been supportive of me and my writing. <3