Precariously
Title: Precariously
Genre: fluff, romance
Rating: pg
Pairings: 2min
Word count: 2949
Summary: It's lucky for Taemin that Minho is pretty much a technician.
Taemin detested making mistakes he knew he could avoid. Or rather, he detested making important mistakes. It was one thing to realize that apples and cheese actually didn't make a good topping on rice since that didn't make a big difference to anything besides his stomach, but it was completely different thing to make mistakes in a routine he was going to be performing over and over and over again. He felt he'd rather die than go on stage and not feel like he'd prepared the absolute best that he could.
It was this fear that led him to the position he was in.
Currently, due to the fact that the day was exceedingly boring, Taemin was slouched over at the kitchen table, poring over a video he'd had filmed of himself during a group rehearsal of Lucifer. Even though it was well past lunchtime, he hadn't bothered to get properly dressed, instead choosing to leave on his loose sweats and tank from the night before.
Kibum was watching him, birdlike, from across the kitchen. “You take perfectionism to a whole new level, Taemin-ah,” he told him, shaking his head. “You've been there watching that same clip for what, thirty minutes?”
Taemin paused the video and glanced up, blinking with the sudden shift from blue screen to bright kitchen sunlight. “I need to memorize what I did wrong so I can correct it. It's not obsessive.”
“Mmph, call it what you will.” Kibum crossed over and peered over Taemin's shoulder at the tiny screen. “It's so small! Your eyes are going to rot. And how are you supposed to see anything anyway? Put it on full-screen!”
“It lags!” Taemin whined, scrubbing at his eyeballs. “My computer is a dinosaur. It can't handle anything bigger than this, otherwise I would.”
Kibum pressed a finger to his lips thoughtfully. “Hey, Minho did something where he connected the laptop to the television once. It played on the big screen then.”
Taemin's face lit up. “He did!? I want to do that!” It would be extremely helpful if it played on the TV, because then he could relax on the sofa and watch the clip full-screen, no lag. And he'd be able to keep his eyeballs in good health.
Kibum nodded, pleased with himself. Making Taemin happy was something that was an innately feel-good action. “It was a while ago though, I don't know if...”
He trailed off, not bothering to finish since his conversational partner had just bolted up out of the chair in the middle of his sentence, scurrying towards the bedroom. “Minho! Minho-hyung!”
He was reaching for the handle when the door flew open, nearly flattening Taemin between it and the wall with the sudden force. “What!? What!”
The younger boy was on the floor, the force of the corner hitting him having sent him tumbling down. “You almost killed me,” he mumbled, rubbing his shoulder from his lower position.
Minho rolled his eyes, grabbing his elbow to pull him up. “What do you want? Is something wrong?”
“Yes, something's wrong. I have a bruise! You hit me!” Taemin was still massaging the tender spot, glaring at Minho half-heartedly. “And I want you to connect my laptop and the TV.”
“Sorry, you were in the way.” Minho rumpled Taemin's hair, pushing it even further into I-just-woke-up territory. “Is that all you wanted me for though, to do something for you?”
“I don't know how to do it myself,” he said, not directly answering.
Minho shut the door behind him, sighing. “I spoil you too much.”
Taemin blinked, disbelieving. “I am not spoiled!” Minho was just nice to him. He took care of him. Besides, it wasn't that he wasn't helpful toward the others, because he was; it was just that he made sure to take especially good care of Taemin. He'd never questioned this because he was the youngest and, since they were all older, they were just fine watching out for themselves. (Not that he wasn't perfectly capable of watching over himself though...it was just that life was a whole lot easier when you had someone willing to do you favors.)
“You keep telling yourself that,” Minho said dryly as he edged around Taemin. “I'm going to go find the cord.” He was striding into the kitchen, aiming for the cupboard that the boys all threw various cords and electronics into. Taemin stood there for a second in the hallway, dumbfounded that his hyung actually had the nerve to call him spoiled. That was a massive accusation! He was not at all spoiled. If he was Minho would have paid more attention to his bruised shoulder.
With a small scowl he finally followed him into the kitchen.
Minho was already rustling around in cupboards, elbow deep in dusty electronics as he tried to find the cord he needed. “Jinki used it last,” he was telling Kibum, who was currently using his own laptop at the table. “Who knows where he...he...heatchoo!”
“...two, three, four, five,” Kibum was counting the sneezes, his eyes wide over his cup of tea. “That's...impressive.”
Minho sniffed, wiping his eyes. “Dust. No one ever cleans around here.”
Kibum took a small sip of tea. “I cook, you all clean. I'm not touching any of that, it's not my job.”
Taemin wandered into the kitchen then, walking over to Minho to see what he was doing, then shrank back immediately. “Ugh! Umma, why is there so much dust? Haven't you you ever cleaned it out?”
“Why are you asking me?!” Kibum was beginning to look affronted. “I'm not cleaning that, I cook for everyone! That's far more than enough!” He took a rather violent gulp of tea. “Where's Jonghyun when you need him? I should just make him clean out that cupboard...”
Taemin wasn't listening anymore. Minho had moved onto the drawer below the cupboard, and the position he was in--leaning over to peer into the murky dimness of it--was causing his legs to look a bit too good for the younger boy's comfort. His pants were tight, smoothing over slim legs so long that Taemin wondered how he managed to find pants that actually fit him at all. But he must somehow, because oh, did these ever fit him.
He knew he really ought to stop looking, but he had an excellent view and really, what was the harm in admiring someone's legs?
“Ah, I found it!” Minho straightened up, relieving Taemin of the responsibility of actually having to decide whether or not to look away.
“Okay! I am so excited, this is going to be so good...” He bounced into the living room merrily, looking for all the world like he'd forgotten about Minho's legs. “Let's set it up. What do you want me to do?” He kept his eyes lowered as he heard Minho follow him into the room. In truth, this was all an attempt to keep his mind off of said legs. If he kept himself distracted he wouldn't get caught looking at them, or Minho's arms, or his neck, or his shoulders...Taemin busied himself with the screen, fussing with the buttons at the bottom of it. Yeah.
“That's the volume, babo.” Minho appeared over his shoulder suddenly, breath ruffling the hair on Taemin's neck. “What we're doing has nothing to do with that.”
Taemin twitched. Why was he so close? The temptation to touch him, even just lean back against his chest, was sudden and urgent. “Then I have no idea what's supposed to be going on. All I want to do is go over the routine again without having Kibum tell me my eyes are turning into squares.”
“You plug it in on the back of the screen. You have a video of us doing the routine?” He was off to Taemin's side now, moving the screen away from the wall to do some unknown task in the back.
“Of me,” Taemin corrected distractedly, trying to decipher what Minho was doing while trying not to think too much of how attractive his arms looked as they flexed with the movement.
Minho shot a look at him, teasing. “You're getting vain.”
The urge to touch Minho's arms suddenly changed into an urge to bite them. “Nooo! I just want to see what I'm doing wrong.”
“On the big screen?” Minho was looking doubtful now, pausing in his task. “That seems pretty self-centered to--ouch!” He cursed loudly, hand whipping out from behind the television to rub the spot on his arm where Taemin had bit him. “What did you do that for?”
“You were being stupid,” Taemin said, pouting as he sat back on his haunches. “I'm just trying to get the routine right and practice and you're accusing me of being vain.”
“But you bit me!” He was shocked, hand hovering over the wounded area.
“Be more careful then. You can’t call me spoiled and vain in the same day and not expect something to happen.” Why was he making such a big deal out of it? It wasn't even hard, just a little nip. There weren't even any teeth marks left. Sighing heavily, Taemin patted Minho's forearm in a sort of apology. “There. Do you feel better now?”
Minho just looked at him, a funny expression on his face, before disappearing behind the screen again.
Whatever that was supposed to mean was absolutely beyond Taemin, so he ignored it.
A minute later he emerged again. “Here,” he said, giving Taemin the end of the cord that was loose. “That's for your computer. It should connect.”
Taemin took it, inspecting it closely. “Okay. Could you get my computer? It's at the table.”
“Kibum!” Minho said loudly, not interested in getting up at all despite the kitchen being only a few seconds away. “Taemin wants his laptop! Can you bring it?”
There was a groan of annoyance and for a second the two boys thought their umma was going to refuse, but a few seconds later Kibum walked into the room, laptop tucked beneath his arm. “Here. Now don't bother me anymore, I'm reading.”
Taemin beamed at him, cheerfully accepting his laptop. “Sure, hyung. Whatever you say.”
Having finished his duties Minho sat back on the sofa, relaxing and waiting. “So? Plug it in.”
Taemin frowned, eyeing the casual (and permanent) position Minho had arranged himself in, his arm slung over the back of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him. He was so tall that whenever he relaxed he ended up just draping himself all over whatever piece of furniture he ended up sitting in, all long limbs and sharp angles. This time was no different, and it was completely distracting. “You're staying here and watching it too?”
“I can leave if you want...” He made a move to get up.
Taemin waved a hand at him, gesturing that it was fine. “No, no!” He hastily plugged the cord in, fiddling with the screen for a minute so he could rearrange his face into something a little more neutral. “You can. It's fine.” He'd be sharing the sofa with him then though, which meant that he would be sharing the sofa with Minho's beautiful wrists and arms and legs and face and...and if he was going to do that, he was going to go for broke and enjoy every minute of it.
It was a strange experience, lying on the sofa with Minho and watching himself dance. Concentration was just not something that was within Taemin's grasp. It was sort of his fault that he couldn't focus though; after all, he was the one who'd decided that Minho's lap would make an excellent pillow, and he was the one who'd settled himself down across the length of the sofa, and he was the one who had shifted himself about so he was arranged comfortably on both the cushions and Minho's legs. It was nice, but because of this he was thinking a lot more about Minho being utterly attractive than about watching himself on the television, no matter how useful it was.
It took four full repetitions of the clip for Taemin to finally be able to relax enough to think about his on-screen movements. The majority of it was fairly smooth. The transitions were good, he wasn't missing the beats, but there was something he knew he did wrong that he needed to fix. It was just that he couldn't remember what it was, or where it was, or...or...yeah. So much for concentration.
Minho was not saying a single word. “It should be somewhere here,” Taemin was beginning to ramble, trying to fill the strangely tense silence with small talk. “I know the big mistake is somewhere, I just keep missing it. If you see it you should--oh, there it is!” He sat up suddenly in his revelation and accidentally knocked the top of his head on Minho's chin. “Ouch!”
The older boy swore, jerking so sharply at the impact that Taemin started sliding off the sofa. The floor was not soft. This was something Taemin knew from experience. So, in a desperate attempt to not come into contact with it and gain another bruise (he was going to start looking as spotted as Jinki got!) his arms snagged Minho's waist. This move threw the two so wildly off balance that they somehow ended up in a tangled heap of arms and legs on the living room floor.
Minho was still cursing. “Shut up,” Taemin told him sternly, his voice muffled by Minho's shirt. “You have a dirty mouth.”
“I have a right to curse since apparently you're trying to kill me,” Minho retorted. “You bit me, hit me with your head, and then pulled me onto the floor with you. Do you have something against me today?”
“I saw the mistake!” Taemin was defending himself, annoyed that Minho was trying to put the blame on him. He hadn't tried to hit his chin, it had just happened! And besides, he'd hit him in the shoulder with the door earlier. “If you'd just get off of me I'd show you...”
That was when their brains clicked into gear, both realizing at the exact same instant the precarious position they were in. Taemin was underneath Minho, face pressed into his shoulder and hands fisted in the soft gray cotton of his shirt, and their legs were tumbled together, knees hooked in knees, tightly lacing them together.
This felt so incredibly good.
Taemin flexed his fingers slowly, his nails brushing the older boy's chest through the thin material. Minho's body was incredibly tense and hard, his breathing almost unintelligible. He was so warm and felt so good and smelled divine; his entire being seemed to be riddled with deep musk and rich earthiness that was making Taemin have an extremely difficult time with rational thinking.
“You...we...” Minho sounded just as unintelligent as Taemin was feeling. “This...”
Taemin shifted slightly to stop his leg from going numb and Minho groaned, something that sounded suspiciously like an expletive on his breath. “Yeah. No.”
“You're not making any sense,” Taemin said, his voice creaking embarrassingly. Minho’s proximity was doing bad things to him, making him feel like he was about to lose control of himself; just start nibbling on any available skin, or…or. He swallowed tightly, teeth catching on his bottom lip, eyes darting around for a safe place to rest.
Minho's parted lips were not a safe place.
But they looked so soft and full and Taemin was seriously having a difficult time not kissing him, and why was he not? He should be, he decided through his fogged brain. It only made sense. He felt good, his leg wasn't numb, and Minho was right there looking extremely kissable and entirely too far away. Kiss me. He moistened his lips with his tongue, inviting and challenging. Just do it.
But then Minho rolled off, disentangling himself and leaving Taemin suddenly cold and empty and alone on the floor. His stomach sunk, sinking into the carpet. A slow burn was creeping up his neck, threatening to spill over onto his face and give away his shame in disappointment.
Then Minho tapped Taemin's forehead, calling his attention. “Kibum,” he mouthed, eyes desperate and searching, pleading with his gaze. “We can't.”
Taemin's stomach lurched again, lifting in a manner not entirely unpleasant and causing his mood to violently swing in the opposite direction again. He understood now. It wasn't that Minho didn't want to kiss him, it was that Kibum was next door and he didn't want to be caught! With a slip of a smile Taemin propped himself up on his elbows and met Minho's eyes, blatant and direct. It was okay right now, but if the older boy tried to make him wait...
“Later,” he breathed, patting Minho’s chest and smiling, easily falling back into his blithe, cheerful state. “Now come help me find the problem spot in that clip, we lost it again.”
He stood up too quickly to see Minho pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes closing briefly in a plea for help before standing up as well to join Taemin on the sofa once more.