Thickheaded
Title: Thickheaded
Pairing: 2min
Rating: pg-15ish
Genre: crack
Summary: Minho teases. Taemin cracks.
Words: 1877
A/N: written for a prompt at twominkink. I'm not entirely happy with this, but I promised it so here it is.
It's not easy for any of them to make time for the gym. Without fail they-well, mostly Jonghyun and Taemin, Minho is unreasonably prepared for everything-end up racing around the dorm after they get back from recording or an appearance. They're like headless chickens, rushing back and forth, madly searching for clean towels and clothing and water bottles so they can snatch a quick workout before they head back home and crash.
Taemin is the only one holding them up today.
“Just take any towel,” Jonghyun tells the maknae as he darts through the living room, wild-eyed and frantic, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “It'll be fine!”
“No way.” Taemin peers around the sofa and spots a towel crumpled on the floor. With what looks to be a good deal more caution than is necessary he picks it up, shaking it out before giving it a delicate sniff. “Last time I did that I smelled like bad tomatoes. Urgh, this is nasty!”
Minho is leaning against the door with his arms crossed, watching Taemin with what looks to be mild amusement. “You're working up a sweat before we've even left, Taemin-ah. Are you sure you can handle this?”
Taemin is only half-listening to Minho since Jonghyun has started searching too and he's starting to go into the bathroom, which the maknae knows is a completely futile move. “Handle what? There's nothing in there, Jjong! Not unless you have a secret stash hidden somewhere.”
“The gym.” Minho's voice is slow, drawling, and it's obvious that he's trying to get a rise out of Taemin. “Your body isn't made to gain a lot of muscle mass. It's going to be really difficult.”
“Minho,” Taemin says sharply, “I think you don't know what you're talking about. I'm sure my efforts will be completely rewarded and I'll be as thickheaded as you and Jonghyun in no time.”
“Oi!” Jonghyun shouts from the bathroom. “I was going to give you one of my clean towels, but I don't know if I should after that comment!”
Minho just laughs though, shrugging carelessly. “Whatever you say, Taemin.”
//
They're in the car when Minho starts up again.
“I suppose you could get a little muscle,” he says, leaning between the driver's and passenger's to pinch Taemin's arm.
Taemin shoves his elbow back unceremoniously, catching Minho in the cheekbone.
Minho jerks backward, rubbing his face. “Ouch! What was that for!?”
“You're being a dick. I don't know what you're getting at, I've gone before and did just fine--”
Leopard-rimmed sunglasses come into view as Jonghyun adjusts the rear-view mirror. “If you two don't stop bickering I'm going to make you walk the rest of the way."
Minho sits back, smug, while Taemin glares pointedly out the front window.
//
Jonghyun has long since left Taemin and Minho to the treadmills by themselves. They've been insufferable, Minho picking at Taemin left and right, Taemin spitting back at him each time Minho opens his mouth.
“You're breathing wrong. How are you supposed to build up your endurance if you don't work out properly?” Minho sounds out of breath, but a good deal less out of breath than Taemin does.
“I-don't-care.” The sweat is dripping down the sides of Taemin's face, his neck, over his collarbones. “It's you who cares-the gym-this-I don't care.”
“If you don't care,” Minho says, his words falling in tempo with the steady pounding of his feet, “you're never going to get as good as we are. You won't. You have to care if you want that, Taemin.”
Taemin's treadmill comes to a grinding halt and Minho is startled into stumbling. The younger is breathing harshly as he steps off, hands on his knees as he leans over, trying to steady himself.
“You have to push through that,” Minho starts up again, more seriously this time, once he's regains his pacing. “Take a breather, then get back on. Tomorrow you can start weights. I'll spot you if you want.”
“I don't care,” Taemin says harshly, shoving his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “I don't care about the gym, I don't care about working out. I don't want to look like Jonghyun.” And he stalks away, leaving Minho feeling uncharacteristically unsure of what exactly just happened.
//
Jonghyun intercepts Minho at the mats where the taller boy is doing crunches, face screwed up in concentration, sweat making streaks down his skin.
“Listen, Minho,” he says, kicking at Minho's shins with the toe of his shoe, “I don't know if you did anything, but Taemin is beyond pissed off and I don't want to deal with that in the car so you'd better go figure out how to fix him.”
Minho opens his eyes to peer up at Jonghyun (something that doesn't happen often and he finds he doesn't enjoy all that much), then regrets it immediately when he feels the familiar salty burn. “I can't do anything about him. He doesn't listen to me any more than he does anyone else.”
Jonghyun is sauntering away though, clearly uninterested in anything Minho has to say.
//
It takes a bit for Minho to go looking. Taemin's not his responsibility, he tries to tell himself. He's not his job, nor is he someone that needs to be taken care of. He's nineteen years old. But the more he tries to convince himself the less he's convinced, and shortly he finds himself standing up and scanning the room for the younger. Taemin isn't Minho's responsibility, but there's a large portion of Minho that can't help but feel like he needs to look out for him. He wants, needs, to take care of him. To make sure he's okay.
Even though he's searching for him it's completely by accident that he stumbles upon the maknae. The saunas and showers are right next to each other for easy access, and when Minho is going to open the door to the latter to rinse off his sweat Taemin just happens to open the sauna door.
“There you are,” Minho exclaims, fairly relieved that Taemin hasn't run off. “I was looking for you earlier, I just didn't think you'd be here in...”
That's when his eyes trail downwards and his voice trails off, because Taemin is just wearing a little towel around his waist and he's pink and sweaty and looks far too delectable for Minho's brain to function properly.
Minho looks away, fumbling for the handle to the shower door. Where did he get that towel, anyway? The towel Minho was wearing around his hips was much more reasonably sized. “Yeah. Okay. I'm going to talk to you after I get out.”
Taemin rolls his eyes even though Minho isn't looking at his face anymore. “You don't talk,” he says, scoffing. “Not to me, not anymore since you've been going here with Jonghyun all the time. Don't try to pretend you're going to.”
Minho spins around tell Taemin that he absolutely does talk to him, but his feet slip on the damp floor and he ends up reaching out, clutching onto Taemin's arm to stay upright. But Taemin isn't any less slippery-in fact, he's even sweatier than Minho is, and it's only by stepping carefully that he's been able to keep himself off the floor. Now though, with the added weight, he finds himself slipping as well.
They end up sprawled on the floor, Taemin on his stomach, Minho on his side next to him.
“I'll just--”
“I didn't--”
Taemin laughs, awkwardly scrambling up while smoothing his towel down. “You should be more careful. The coordi noonas aren't going to be happy with these bruises.”
Minho's not thinking about the bruises though; his mind his still replaying Taemin's earlier words. You don't talk. Not to me. Not since you've been going here with Jonghyun.
I don't care.
The pieces start falling into place.
I don't want to look like Jonghyun.
He stands up quickly, ignoring the twinge of the twin bruises on his knees and elbows as comprehension dawns on him. Taemin has missed him.
“Were you jealous, Taemin?”
Taemin freezes, his back to Minho, shower door gaping open. “I...”
There's a smile, smug and embarrassingly fluttery, stretching Minho's cheeks. “You don't have to be jealous. I like you a lot more than Jonghyun.”
Goosebumps erupt over Taemin's skin when Minho takes his shoulder, turning him around and backing him into the single stall. He's not resisting, and Minho takes this as an invitation to expand.
“For one, you don't look like a dog.” He runs his hand up Taemin's neck to his jawbone, shutting the door behind him with the other. “You're more of a cat. More fine-boned. More of an attitude.”
Taemin's red and it's not the lingering effects of the sauna. “You're stupid. Stupid and blind and I'm not a cat-mm.”
Minho can't think very well with his mouth against Taemin's, slow and salty, but he has just enough lucidity to pull back, eyes a cross between laughing and lidded, to tease the maknae just a little bit more. “You aren't helping disprove the cat theory when you purr like that.”
This apparently doesn't bother Taemin too much though, because instead of retaliating his hooks his arms around Minho's back, splaying his hands against Minho's collarbones. “A cat, hmm?”
Minho starts to say yes, definitely but his words catch in his throat because Taemin no longer shy. In fact, he's the furthest thing from it now; instead he's taking matters into his own hands, dragging his nails down Minho's back and rolling his hips up. “I suppose don't mind being a cat. It's better than being a cow.”
Minho abandons words in favor of kissing Taemin again, reveling in the feel of his tongue and his teeth and his none-too-gentle nips, the way he presses himself up against Minho's body wantonly, abandoning all sense of propriety. They're both eager and sloppy and-judging by the way that Taemin is fingering the edge of Minho's towel with a touch that's somewhere between tentative and impatient-willing for this to go further than just hot, slick mouths and roving hands.
It's when they hear the shower next door to them flip on that they remember that they're actually supposed to be accomplishing something besides feeling up every inch of available flesh possible, though.
“I'm going to shower in this one,” Taemin says, edging away from Minho. “Go out.”
“But,” Minho protests as the maknae shoves him toward the door, clinging on to a last shred of hope that he won't have to take a cold shower by himself, “we can just shower together!”
Taemin's eyes flicker downward toward Minho's hips where his towel is just barely clinging on for dear life. “Not happening. Not that I don't want to, but...not here. Go away.”
It's with serious regret that Minho steps out of the stall. So close, yet so far.
“Anyway,” Taemin says him matter-of-factly through the door as he flicks on the water, “the shower at home is bigger.”
Or maybe not so far.
Pairing: 2min
Rating: pg-15ish
Genre: crack
Summary: Minho teases. Taemin cracks.
Words: 1877
A/N: written for a prompt at twominkink. I'm not entirely happy with this, but I promised it so here it is.
It's not easy for any of them to make time for the gym. Without fail they-well, mostly Jonghyun and Taemin, Minho is unreasonably prepared for everything-end up racing around the dorm after they get back from recording or an appearance. They're like headless chickens, rushing back and forth, madly searching for clean towels and clothing and water bottles so they can snatch a quick workout before they head back home and crash.
Taemin is the only one holding them up today.
“Just take any towel,” Jonghyun tells the maknae as he darts through the living room, wild-eyed and frantic, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “It'll be fine!”
“No way.” Taemin peers around the sofa and spots a towel crumpled on the floor. With what looks to be a good deal more caution than is necessary he picks it up, shaking it out before giving it a delicate sniff. “Last time I did that I smelled like bad tomatoes. Urgh, this is nasty!”
Minho is leaning against the door with his arms crossed, watching Taemin with what looks to be mild amusement. “You're working up a sweat before we've even left, Taemin-ah. Are you sure you can handle this?”
Taemin is only half-listening to Minho since Jonghyun has started searching too and he's starting to go into the bathroom, which the maknae knows is a completely futile move. “Handle what? There's nothing in there, Jjong! Not unless you have a secret stash hidden somewhere.”
“The gym.” Minho's voice is slow, drawling, and it's obvious that he's trying to get a rise out of Taemin. “Your body isn't made to gain a lot of muscle mass. It's going to be really difficult.”
“Minho,” Taemin says sharply, “I think you don't know what you're talking about. I'm sure my efforts will be completely rewarded and I'll be as thickheaded as you and Jonghyun in no time.”
“Oi!” Jonghyun shouts from the bathroom. “I was going to give you one of my clean towels, but I don't know if I should after that comment!”
Minho just laughs though, shrugging carelessly. “Whatever you say, Taemin.”
//
They're in the car when Minho starts up again.
“I suppose you could get a little muscle,” he says, leaning between the driver's and passenger's to pinch Taemin's arm.
Taemin shoves his elbow back unceremoniously, catching Minho in the cheekbone.
Minho jerks backward, rubbing his face. “Ouch! What was that for!?”
“You're being a dick. I don't know what you're getting at, I've gone before and did just fine--”
Leopard-rimmed sunglasses come into view as Jonghyun adjusts the rear-view mirror. “If you two don't stop bickering I'm going to make you walk the rest of the way."
Minho sits back, smug, while Taemin glares pointedly out the front window.
//
Jonghyun has long since left Taemin and Minho to the treadmills by themselves. They've been insufferable, Minho picking at Taemin left and right, Taemin spitting back at him each time Minho opens his mouth.
“You're breathing wrong. How are you supposed to build up your endurance if you don't work out properly?” Minho sounds out of breath, but a good deal less out of breath than Taemin does.
“I-don't-care.” The sweat is dripping down the sides of Taemin's face, his neck, over his collarbones. “It's you who cares-the gym-this-I don't care.”
“If you don't care,” Minho says, his words falling in tempo with the steady pounding of his feet, “you're never going to get as good as we are. You won't. You have to care if you want that, Taemin.”
Taemin's treadmill comes to a grinding halt and Minho is startled into stumbling. The younger is breathing harshly as he steps off, hands on his knees as he leans over, trying to steady himself.
“You have to push through that,” Minho starts up again, more seriously this time, once he's regains his pacing. “Take a breather, then get back on. Tomorrow you can start weights. I'll spot you if you want.”
“I don't care,” Taemin says harshly, shoving his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “I don't care about the gym, I don't care about working out. I don't want to look like Jonghyun.” And he stalks away, leaving Minho feeling uncharacteristically unsure of what exactly just happened.
//
Jonghyun intercepts Minho at the mats where the taller boy is doing crunches, face screwed up in concentration, sweat making streaks down his skin.
“Listen, Minho,” he says, kicking at Minho's shins with the toe of his shoe, “I don't know if you did anything, but Taemin is beyond pissed off and I don't want to deal with that in the car so you'd better go figure out how to fix him.”
Minho opens his eyes to peer up at Jonghyun (something that doesn't happen often and he finds he doesn't enjoy all that much), then regrets it immediately when he feels the familiar salty burn. “I can't do anything about him. He doesn't listen to me any more than he does anyone else.”
Jonghyun is sauntering away though, clearly uninterested in anything Minho has to say.
//
It takes a bit for Minho to go looking. Taemin's not his responsibility, he tries to tell himself. He's not his job, nor is he someone that needs to be taken care of. He's nineteen years old. But the more he tries to convince himself the less he's convinced, and shortly he finds himself standing up and scanning the room for the younger. Taemin isn't Minho's responsibility, but there's a large portion of Minho that can't help but feel like he needs to look out for him. He wants, needs, to take care of him. To make sure he's okay.
Even though he's searching for him it's completely by accident that he stumbles upon the maknae. The saunas and showers are right next to each other for easy access, and when Minho is going to open the door to the latter to rinse off his sweat Taemin just happens to open the sauna door.
“There you are,” Minho exclaims, fairly relieved that Taemin hasn't run off. “I was looking for you earlier, I just didn't think you'd be here in...”
That's when his eyes trail downwards and his voice trails off, because Taemin is just wearing a little towel around his waist and he's pink and sweaty and looks far too delectable for Minho's brain to function properly.
Minho looks away, fumbling for the handle to the shower door. Where did he get that towel, anyway? The towel Minho was wearing around his hips was much more reasonably sized. “Yeah. Okay. I'm going to talk to you after I get out.”
Taemin rolls his eyes even though Minho isn't looking at his face anymore. “You don't talk,” he says, scoffing. “Not to me, not anymore since you've been going here with Jonghyun all the time. Don't try to pretend you're going to.”
Minho spins around tell Taemin that he absolutely does talk to him, but his feet slip on the damp floor and he ends up reaching out, clutching onto Taemin's arm to stay upright. But Taemin isn't any less slippery-in fact, he's even sweatier than Minho is, and it's only by stepping carefully that he's been able to keep himself off the floor. Now though, with the added weight, he finds himself slipping as well.
They end up sprawled on the floor, Taemin on his stomach, Minho on his side next to him.
“I'll just--”
“I didn't--”
Taemin laughs, awkwardly scrambling up while smoothing his towel down. “You should be more careful. The coordi noonas aren't going to be happy with these bruises.”
Minho's not thinking about the bruises though; his mind his still replaying Taemin's earlier words. You don't talk. Not to me. Not since you've been going here with Jonghyun.
I don't care.
The pieces start falling into place.
I don't want to look like Jonghyun.
He stands up quickly, ignoring the twinge of the twin bruises on his knees and elbows as comprehension dawns on him. Taemin has missed him.
“Were you jealous, Taemin?”
Taemin freezes, his back to Minho, shower door gaping open. “I...”
There's a smile, smug and embarrassingly fluttery, stretching Minho's cheeks. “You don't have to be jealous. I like you a lot more than Jonghyun.”
Goosebumps erupt over Taemin's skin when Minho takes his shoulder, turning him around and backing him into the single stall. He's not resisting, and Minho takes this as an invitation to expand.
“For one, you don't look like a dog.” He runs his hand up Taemin's neck to his jawbone, shutting the door behind him with the other. “You're more of a cat. More fine-boned. More of an attitude.”
Taemin's red and it's not the lingering effects of the sauna. “You're stupid. Stupid and blind and I'm not a cat-mm.”
Minho can't think very well with his mouth against Taemin's, slow and salty, but he has just enough lucidity to pull back, eyes a cross between laughing and lidded, to tease the maknae just a little bit more. “You aren't helping disprove the cat theory when you purr like that.”
This apparently doesn't bother Taemin too much though, because instead of retaliating his hooks his arms around Minho's back, splaying his hands against Minho's collarbones. “A cat, hmm?”
Minho starts to say yes, definitely but his words catch in his throat because Taemin no longer shy. In fact, he's the furthest thing from it now; instead he's taking matters into his own hands, dragging his nails down Minho's back and rolling his hips up. “I suppose don't mind being a cat. It's better than being a cow.”
Minho abandons words in favor of kissing Taemin again, reveling in the feel of his tongue and his teeth and his none-too-gentle nips, the way he presses himself up against Minho's body wantonly, abandoning all sense of propriety. They're both eager and sloppy and-judging by the way that Taemin is fingering the edge of Minho's towel with a touch that's somewhere between tentative and impatient-willing for this to go further than just hot, slick mouths and roving hands.
It's when they hear the shower next door to them flip on that they remember that they're actually supposed to be accomplishing something besides feeling up every inch of available flesh possible, though.
“I'm going to shower in this one,” Taemin says, edging away from Minho. “Go out.”
“But,” Minho protests as the maknae shoves him toward the door, clinging on to a last shred of hope that he won't have to take a cold shower by himself, “we can just shower together!”
Taemin's eyes flicker downward toward Minho's hips where his towel is just barely clinging on for dear life. “Not happening. Not that I don't want to, but...not here. Go away.”
It's with serious regret that Minho steps out of the stall. So close, yet so far.
“Anyway,” Taemin says him matter-of-factly through the door as he flicks on the water, “the shower at home is bigger.”
Or maybe not so far.