Three-Fifths of Distractibility, 4/?
Title: Three-Fifths of Distractibility, 4/?
Pairing: 2min
Rating: pg-15ish eventually
Genre: au, fluff
Summary: Taemin is the new boy at Minho's grocery store.
Words: 2048
A/N: non-beta'd goodness because my betas are on vacation and studying, respectively. -__-
Part Three
Minho was the one who started it all.
“I want to come over,” Taemin told him over the phone one evening a few days after he passed all of his exams.
There was a short pause. “Come over? Why?”
That was the beginning.
“Why not? I'm done with school finally. It'll be like a vacation from my room. I'm so tired of it.” It would be really nice, Taemin thought. He had just finished what felt like seven thousand years of drudgery and stress, split equally between his room and his school. Exams were extremely important, and even though he was a good student it was a lot.
All he wanted was a break.
“I don't know. I'm...kind of...busy.” Minho sounded unsure, halting between his words.
Taemin frowned, rolling over on his bed to look at the ceiling. “You're terrible at lying. All you're doing is working and hanging out with your friends; you're not busy.”
“How about we go somewhere then? A carnival or something. Or an amusement park. Or--”
“Minho,” Taemin said, “I want to go to your house to relax. It's not like you have to worry about anything, won't Jonghyun be there?” He was looking forward to meeting Jonghyun anyway. It would be interesting to get to know one of Minho's friends, to see what types of people he enjoyed.
“Yeah, he will.”
Taemin sighed. He obviously was going to have to prod at Minho to see why he was being so hesitant. “So what's the problem then? Tell me. I'm going to get upset if you don't.”
“It's...Taemin, you're not even eighteen yet. Jonghyun is twenty-three. I just...” He trailed off.
“...you're twenty-two,” Taemin said slowly after a moment of stunned silence that that was what Minho was unsure about.
“That's different. We're in a different situation.”
It was stupid of him, Taemin thought bitterly after he hung up the phone, to have said that he was going to be upset if Minho didn't tell him what the problem was, because clearly he would have ended up upset either way.
//
“Minho.”
The older had picked up after four, almost five, rings. Taemin was feeling less and less impressed by the minute.
“What? Have you decided to stop being unreasonable?”
Him? Unreasonable? Taemin knew he was sometimes, but this was absolutely not one of those cases. “Are you alone right now?”
“...no, Jonghyun is here.”
“Great. Bye.”
The phone rang again after Taemin clicked the red button, but he didn't answer. If Minho was going to be stupid, then he was bringing this upon himself.
//
It hadn't taken much for Taemin to convince his mother to let him borrow the car. “Errands,” he told her. “I need to get new shoes, these ones are really worn. See, the soles...” She had tutted, pursing her lips and nodding in agreement before sending him off with the keys and wishes of good bargains.
He wasn't going to get new shoes. Telling her he hadn't found any wouldn't be a lie, either; Minho apartment certainly wouldn't be a place he'd be finding new shoes at. It was just an evasive statement.
This sort of a situation was necessary, anyway. Minho was being a dick, and it was obvious that he needed a kick in the face to realize that Taemin wasn't just playing around. He was young, yes, but Minho had shocked him into oblivion and back and what had started as a job just to earn some extra money had somehow morphed into something Taemin looked forward to every day because Minho was there.
Minho, even and tall and handsome, easily embarrassed and far too easy to tease because of that. Minho who had accidentally swooped Taemin up with his gaze, who somehow needed to be finagled and prodded before he admitted that he wanted the younger.
He was just an idiot sometimes. Taemin knew that about him. When he was right he was just knew he was right even if he wasn't, and it sometimes took a shock for him to understand that what he thought wasn't necessarily always the truth.
This was indeed a shock.
“Who are you?” The boy who opened the door was short and brown-haired, slim and muscular and attractive. It figured that Minho would be the one to start accidentally making his apartment into a beauty farm.
“Taemin. You must be Jonghyun, right?” He stepped in, slipping off his shoes and glancing around. The apartment looked the same as before, just with more clutter. Apparently Jonghyun wasn't one for tidying up.
The short boy nodded, sizing Taemin up. “Taemin. His boyfriend. I've heard a lot about you. You talk a lot, don't you?”
Taemin raised a brow, unsure of whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that Jonghyun had heard about him enough that he felt comfortable saying things like that already. “Minho doesn't talk very much. I just make up for him.”
Jonghyun laughed, an obnoxious, friendly sound that had the last of Taemin's apprehension leaving. “Unless it's about you. Then he talks too much. Oi, Minho!” He cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting down the hallway. “Taemin's here! Come out! He's been drowning himself in his music,” he told Taemin, rolling his eyes. “I was starting to wonder if you two were having a spat or something. He's so hormonal these days.”
“Sort of. Oh, hey, Minho,” Taemin said, casually waving over at Minho, frozen at the edge of the living room.
“What are you doing here!?” His eyes were darting between Jonghyun and Taemin, looking more than a bit apprehensive. “I thought you, we, that...”
“You thought wrong. Come on, Minho, if you don't want me around then you have to tell me. Don't mince words, okay? I'm old enough to handle things.”
Minho stepped forward, grasping Taemin by the wrist. “How about we talk about this in my room?”
Taemin realized a bit late that Jonghyun was skulking around in the kitchenette, trying to be inconspicuous. “Sorry,” he mouthed as he found himself being dragged away down the short hall, aiming an apologetic duck of his head at the older boy. He hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, just Minho.
Jonghyun rolled his eyes, waving it off. “Minho's stupid sometimes. It's alright.”
//
Minho was exceedingly upset, and it was making the younger a strange mix of uncomfortable and pleased. It was only reasonable that he got a taste of what he was making Taemin feel. His actions were simply not fair, nor were they deserved; while Taemin knew he was younger, if Minho was willing to date him he should be comfortable and confident with him.
The fact that he wasn't was troubling.
“Are you even listening to me? Taemin.”
Minho was pacing, creases stiff between his brows as he wore a track through the carpet.
“Uh, not particularly.” Taemin shrugged, doing his best to exude nonchalance. The last thing he wanted right now was for Minho to see how much work it was to keep his frustration under wraps. “I don't know what you want me to think. Should I suddenly change my mind and be happy that you don't want me to meet your friends?”
“No. Yes. No, that's not...why are you reading so much into this!?” He stopped, rubbing his neck, just a silhouette against the white light of the white. “You're really acting your age right now. What do you want me to say?”
“I'm acting my age? I'm acting my age!?” The anger he'd been tamping down erupted, his hands fisting at his sides. “Minho, I've been doing my best. Don't try to...to shove my feelings into the immature box.”
Minho was tight, tense, his muscles taut ropes. “I told you not to come over and you did. That's not respect, that's immaturity.”
“Because your thought process was stupid. If you just gave me a chance...”
“Not like this. You obviously need to grow up still.”
That was it. The last thread holding Taemin's temper down snapped, and he lashed out, punching Minho squarely in the jaw. “That,” he said, hands shaking from the sheer amount of fury he was feeling, “is what you get for not listening, not thinking. That's your biggest fault, Minho. You can't see past the tip of your own nose when you think you're right.” He really ought to have punched that instead of his jaw. Maybe then Minho would have seen just how ridiculous he was being.
“Taemin.” His eyes were wide, hand pressed to his face.
But Taemin was unlocking Minho's door, stepping through it. “You can call me when you're ready to stop being ashamed of my age. Not before.”
Jonghyun was hovering half-way between the hall and the kitchen, looking for all the world like a first-class eavesdropper. “I wasn't listening,” he assured Taemin quickly. “I was just making coffee!”
“It's alright,” Taemin said, forcing himself to breathe through the post-adrenaline tremors. “We weren't being quiet.” He slipped on his shoes and felt for his phone to make sure it was in his pocket.
“For the record,” Jonghyun told him as Taemin laced up his last shoe, tying the laces in a careless knot, “I think you're in the right here. And if we're looking at immaturity, Minho isn't exactly grown-up.”
Yeah, Taemin thought, Jonghyun definitely wasn't bad, and Minho definitely needed to get his ideas sorted out.
//
It was a week later that Taemin picked up, not bothering to double check who it was. Minho was the only one with that ringtone. “Yeah?”
There was a pause, long, pregnant. “I...” Minho's voice was barely audible.
Taemin waited, his heart drumming.
Then, finally: “Doyouwanttocomeover?”
It took a good deal of will-power for Taemin to keep his flailing limbs and squawking bed-springs silent. “What...what was that?”
“I can tell you're laughing. Don't make this more difficult for me. Please.”
It was stupid how easily they fell back into step, wonderful how simple it was.
“No, I won't.”
Minho sighed, dragging it out. “Do I need to come get you? Beg for your forgiveness on my hands and knees? Jonghyun has been nagging me to get you to come over. He's convinced you have some sort of superpower because the bruise you gave me--”
“The bruise?” Taemin interrupted, suddenly bright.
“Don't sound so gleeful.” Minho was dark in contrast. Taemin could see the baleful frown, the unimpressed set of his mouth, and it was making him unreasonably happy. “Of course you left a bruise. And let me tell you, it hurts like you wouldn't believe. Does that make you feel better?”
“Yes.” Then: “Minho?”
“Taemin?” Minho's voice curled up at the edges just like his eyes and his mouth did when he was pleased.
“Are you sorry?”
Minho laughed, deep and throaty. “Is it not obvious enough? I'm calling you right now. You left me with express instructions.”
“Yeah, but I want you to say it.”
It was a wonder the older had any breath left in him at all what with the amount of times he sighed.
“Lee Taemin,” he said formally, “I'm very sorry. I was stupid and I want you to come over and it doesn't matter if you're not quite eighteen. Is that enough? I don't know how much more I can handle.”
“Yeah.” Taemin smiled, curling into his pillow on his bed, content. Making Minho the competitive scrape low like that was enough for him. “Does that mean you'll sleep with me now?”
“Absolutely not,” Minho said, not hesitating for a moment. “I still want you to come over though. Will you?”
Taemin didn't say anything, holding his breath to see how much he could get Minho to give him.
“Please.”
“Fine. Okay. I will.”
When he dropped the phone, sweaty from his hand and ear, smile still plastered to his face, Taemin realized he now understood why Minho liked winning so much.
Part Five
Pairing: 2min
Rating: pg-15ish eventually
Genre: au, fluff
Summary: Taemin is the new boy at Minho's grocery store.
Words: 2048
A/N: non-beta'd goodness because my betas are on vacation and studying, respectively. -__-
Part Three
Minho was the one who started it all.
“I want to come over,” Taemin told him over the phone one evening a few days after he passed all of his exams.
There was a short pause. “Come over? Why?”
That was the beginning.
“Why not? I'm done with school finally. It'll be like a vacation from my room. I'm so tired of it.” It would be really nice, Taemin thought. He had just finished what felt like seven thousand years of drudgery and stress, split equally between his room and his school. Exams were extremely important, and even though he was a good student it was a lot.
All he wanted was a break.
“I don't know. I'm...kind of...busy.” Minho sounded unsure, halting between his words.
Taemin frowned, rolling over on his bed to look at the ceiling. “You're terrible at lying. All you're doing is working and hanging out with your friends; you're not busy.”
“How about we go somewhere then? A carnival or something. Or an amusement park. Or--”
“Minho,” Taemin said, “I want to go to your house to relax. It's not like you have to worry about anything, won't Jonghyun be there?” He was looking forward to meeting Jonghyun anyway. It would be interesting to get to know one of Minho's friends, to see what types of people he enjoyed.
“Yeah, he will.”
Taemin sighed. He obviously was going to have to prod at Minho to see why he was being so hesitant. “So what's the problem then? Tell me. I'm going to get upset if you don't.”
“It's...Taemin, you're not even eighteen yet. Jonghyun is twenty-three. I just...” He trailed off.
“...you're twenty-two,” Taemin said slowly after a moment of stunned silence that that was what Minho was unsure about.
“That's different. We're in a different situation.”
It was stupid of him, Taemin thought bitterly after he hung up the phone, to have said that he was going to be upset if Minho didn't tell him what the problem was, because clearly he would have ended up upset either way.
//
“Minho.”
The older had picked up after four, almost five, rings. Taemin was feeling less and less impressed by the minute.
“What? Have you decided to stop being unreasonable?”
Him? Unreasonable? Taemin knew he was sometimes, but this was absolutely not one of those cases. “Are you alone right now?”
“...no, Jonghyun is here.”
“Great. Bye.”
The phone rang again after Taemin clicked the red button, but he didn't answer. If Minho was going to be stupid, then he was bringing this upon himself.
//
It hadn't taken much for Taemin to convince his mother to let him borrow the car. “Errands,” he told her. “I need to get new shoes, these ones are really worn. See, the soles...” She had tutted, pursing her lips and nodding in agreement before sending him off with the keys and wishes of good bargains.
He wasn't going to get new shoes. Telling her he hadn't found any wouldn't be a lie, either; Minho apartment certainly wouldn't be a place he'd be finding new shoes at. It was just an evasive statement.
This sort of a situation was necessary, anyway. Minho was being a dick, and it was obvious that he needed a kick in the face to realize that Taemin wasn't just playing around. He was young, yes, but Minho had shocked him into oblivion and back and what had started as a job just to earn some extra money had somehow morphed into something Taemin looked forward to every day because Minho was there.
Minho, even and tall and handsome, easily embarrassed and far too easy to tease because of that. Minho who had accidentally swooped Taemin up with his gaze, who somehow needed to be finagled and prodded before he admitted that he wanted the younger.
He was just an idiot sometimes. Taemin knew that about him. When he was right he was just knew he was right even if he wasn't, and it sometimes took a shock for him to understand that what he thought wasn't necessarily always the truth.
This was indeed a shock.
“Who are you?” The boy who opened the door was short and brown-haired, slim and muscular and attractive. It figured that Minho would be the one to start accidentally making his apartment into a beauty farm.
“Taemin. You must be Jonghyun, right?” He stepped in, slipping off his shoes and glancing around. The apartment looked the same as before, just with more clutter. Apparently Jonghyun wasn't one for tidying up.
The short boy nodded, sizing Taemin up. “Taemin. His boyfriend. I've heard a lot about you. You talk a lot, don't you?”
Taemin raised a brow, unsure of whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that Jonghyun had heard about him enough that he felt comfortable saying things like that already. “Minho doesn't talk very much. I just make up for him.”
Jonghyun laughed, an obnoxious, friendly sound that had the last of Taemin's apprehension leaving. “Unless it's about you. Then he talks too much. Oi, Minho!” He cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting down the hallway. “Taemin's here! Come out! He's been drowning himself in his music,” he told Taemin, rolling his eyes. “I was starting to wonder if you two were having a spat or something. He's so hormonal these days.”
“Sort of. Oh, hey, Minho,” Taemin said, casually waving over at Minho, frozen at the edge of the living room.
“What are you doing here!?” His eyes were darting between Jonghyun and Taemin, looking more than a bit apprehensive. “I thought you, we, that...”
“You thought wrong. Come on, Minho, if you don't want me around then you have to tell me. Don't mince words, okay? I'm old enough to handle things.”
Minho stepped forward, grasping Taemin by the wrist. “How about we talk about this in my room?”
Taemin realized a bit late that Jonghyun was skulking around in the kitchenette, trying to be inconspicuous. “Sorry,” he mouthed as he found himself being dragged away down the short hall, aiming an apologetic duck of his head at the older boy. He hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, just Minho.
Jonghyun rolled his eyes, waving it off. “Minho's stupid sometimes. It's alright.”
//
Minho was exceedingly upset, and it was making the younger a strange mix of uncomfortable and pleased. It was only reasonable that he got a taste of what he was making Taemin feel. His actions were simply not fair, nor were they deserved; while Taemin knew he was younger, if Minho was willing to date him he should be comfortable and confident with him.
The fact that he wasn't was troubling.
“Are you even listening to me? Taemin.”
Minho was pacing, creases stiff between his brows as he wore a track through the carpet.
“Uh, not particularly.” Taemin shrugged, doing his best to exude nonchalance. The last thing he wanted right now was for Minho to see how much work it was to keep his frustration under wraps. “I don't know what you want me to think. Should I suddenly change my mind and be happy that you don't want me to meet your friends?”
“No. Yes. No, that's not...why are you reading so much into this!?” He stopped, rubbing his neck, just a silhouette against the white light of the white. “You're really acting your age right now. What do you want me to say?”
“I'm acting my age? I'm acting my age!?” The anger he'd been tamping down erupted, his hands fisting at his sides. “Minho, I've been doing my best. Don't try to...to shove my feelings into the immature box.”
Minho was tight, tense, his muscles taut ropes. “I told you not to come over and you did. That's not respect, that's immaturity.”
“Because your thought process was stupid. If you just gave me a chance...”
“Not like this. You obviously need to grow up still.”
That was it. The last thread holding Taemin's temper down snapped, and he lashed out, punching Minho squarely in the jaw. “That,” he said, hands shaking from the sheer amount of fury he was feeling, “is what you get for not listening, not thinking. That's your biggest fault, Minho. You can't see past the tip of your own nose when you think you're right.” He really ought to have punched that instead of his jaw. Maybe then Minho would have seen just how ridiculous he was being.
“Taemin.” His eyes were wide, hand pressed to his face.
But Taemin was unlocking Minho's door, stepping through it. “You can call me when you're ready to stop being ashamed of my age. Not before.”
Jonghyun was hovering half-way between the hall and the kitchen, looking for all the world like a first-class eavesdropper. “I wasn't listening,” he assured Taemin quickly. “I was just making coffee!”
“It's alright,” Taemin said, forcing himself to breathe through the post-adrenaline tremors. “We weren't being quiet.” He slipped on his shoes and felt for his phone to make sure it was in his pocket.
“For the record,” Jonghyun told him as Taemin laced up his last shoe, tying the laces in a careless knot, “I think you're in the right here. And if we're looking at immaturity, Minho isn't exactly grown-up.”
Yeah, Taemin thought, Jonghyun definitely wasn't bad, and Minho definitely needed to get his ideas sorted out.
//
It was a week later that Taemin picked up, not bothering to double check who it was. Minho was the only one with that ringtone. “Yeah?”
There was a pause, long, pregnant. “I...” Minho's voice was barely audible.
Taemin waited, his heart drumming.
Then, finally: “Doyouwanttocomeover?”
It took a good deal of will-power for Taemin to keep his flailing limbs and squawking bed-springs silent. “What...what was that?”
“I can tell you're laughing. Don't make this more difficult for me. Please.”
It was stupid how easily they fell back into step, wonderful how simple it was.
“No, I won't.”
Minho sighed, dragging it out. “Do I need to come get you? Beg for your forgiveness on my hands and knees? Jonghyun has been nagging me to get you to come over. He's convinced you have some sort of superpower because the bruise you gave me--”
“The bruise?” Taemin interrupted, suddenly bright.
“Don't sound so gleeful.” Minho was dark in contrast. Taemin could see the baleful frown, the unimpressed set of his mouth, and it was making him unreasonably happy. “Of course you left a bruise. And let me tell you, it hurts like you wouldn't believe. Does that make you feel better?”
“Yes.” Then: “Minho?”
“Taemin?” Minho's voice curled up at the edges just like his eyes and his mouth did when he was pleased.
“Are you sorry?”
Minho laughed, deep and throaty. “Is it not obvious enough? I'm calling you right now. You left me with express instructions.”
“Yeah, but I want you to say it.”
It was a wonder the older had any breath left in him at all what with the amount of times he sighed.
“Lee Taemin,” he said formally, “I'm very sorry. I was stupid and I want you to come over and it doesn't matter if you're not quite eighteen. Is that enough? I don't know how much more I can handle.”
“Yeah.” Taemin smiled, curling into his pillow on his bed, content. Making Minho the competitive scrape low like that was enough for him. “Does that mean you'll sleep with me now?”
“Absolutely not,” Minho said, not hesitating for a moment. “I still want you to come over though. Will you?”
Taemin didn't say anything, holding his breath to see how much he could get Minho to give him.
“Please.”
“Fine. Okay. I will.”
When he dropped the phone, sweaty from his hand and ear, smile still plastered to his face, Taemin realized he now understood why Minho liked winning so much.
Part Five