Chapter Text
They had the equivalent of a free weekend, two consecutive days off, only it was a Monday, and they were making the most of it, they had had dinner together and were lingering around the table, drinking wine and beer, and having a great time.
Chan was actually relaxed for the first time in months and he even thought about going to bed earlier than usual.
Everyone looked happy and a little drunk, just drunk enough to start acting like the little menaces they were.
“So, let me ask, best fuck ever?” Hyunjin said, giggling his eyebrows, a groan extended around the table. “Come on!”
“You’re terrible” Jeongin muttered.
“I got The One” Minho said, raising his arm a little side-ways, almost knocking Changbin in doing so, the other protested but put his head in his hand, ready to listen.
“Oh! You told me about this one!” Jisung shouted and started giggling. “It’s really good.”
Hyunjin looked at them with a judging expression. “That good?”
“Better fuck than any of you has had or is, of that I’m sure.”
“You haven’t fucked any of us” Jeongin muttered, the little offense on his voice adorable.
“Or so you think” Minho winked back making Jeongin squirm.
“We don’t have the whole night, start speaking” Changbin whispered then.
“Impatient for a good story, I like you” Minho told him, it confirmed how drunk Minho really was, if the slur of words and redness hadn’t already.
Chan looked at them all with soft eyes, they could make even a topic like that sound adorable, he sipped a little wine, Felix looked at him and clinked their glasses before doing the same.
“So, we were in our first year after debut-”
“You told me second” Jisung interrupted.
“Oh, fuck!” Felix jumped; it startled everyone. “You told me about this one too!”
“I thought I was special?” Jisung whined.
“Can you let Minho talk?” Chan said, shaking his head, he was amused, and, true be told, a little excited about the story, he wasn’t a gossiper…, well…, only a little.
“Thank you, oh, leader” Minho said. Felix sat back down, now more excited than before, crossing his legs on the chair and bouncing sideways knocking into Chan from time to time. “So, we were in our early years after debut, and there was this party that I learned about thanks to a name I must protect.”
“Bambam?” Chan asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I must protect I said. So! You all were either too young or too old to go of course, but they took me there. The ambience was…”
“Sordid?” Hyunjin provided.
“You don’t know what that word means” Seungmin quickly told him, Minho kept talking before a fight could break.
“We all wore caps and masks, and dark clothes, except for like a couple sluts.”
“Minho…” Chan chastised him.
“What? I say it appreciatively; I wasn’t as brave back then so I was showing as little as possible. I was nervous and all that, but still I made it to the back room and as soon as I was there, there was a hand around my waist…”
“You fucked a stranger?” Changbin whispered, he got no answer.
“He whispered five words and nothing more: ‘Hey babe, you wanna fuck?’” Minho sipped his own wine, there were ‘oh’s and some puking sounds around the table. Chan arched his eyebrows again, Minho looked at him then, questioning look in place, was the leader judging him?
“Keep going” Hyunjin whined, “I want to tell mine too.”
“We all know yours, Jinnie” Jeongin protested.
“It’s a new one!” Hyunjin answered quickly.
“I nodded all shyly like a blushing virgin, and that sprung him on. He kissed my neck and I had to whisper ‘No marks’, he laughed, like he knew but didn’t care. He pushed me against the wall and turned me around. Got my pants down just enough-”
“I don’t want to hear this” Jeongin said, covering his ears.
“Chan, take the kid out of here” Minho said, pointing with his chin between the two of them.
“No, I want to hear” Chan whispered, the quick and serious response made Minho almost stop talking, luckily enough the rest didn’t notice.
“So… So, as I was saying, fuck, it’s difficult to make anything sound sexy around you all. I thought he would be quick and rough. But he got on his knees, on his fucking knees and he ate me out like I was a cupcake, damn, I still remember that tongue, I’m sure he was a rapper or something with the way he could move it.”
“Didn’t you recognize him?” Felix asked.
“I though… I think I started to do, but I turned my brain off, I didn’t want to know, imagine how awkward the awards ceremonies would turn, we were still a new group and all” Minho explained. “So, he made me come like that.”
“Like that?” Changbin exclaimed. “He didn’t even touch you?”
“Am I telling you the story of an ordinary fuck or The Best Fuck Ever?” Minho answered. “He got his fingers inside me right as I was about to come, found my prostate like that” he snapped his fingers. “I was a begging mess, I’m not too prideful to not admit it, I was begging for his cock so loud someone shushed at us. And then he gave it to me. Fuck, I wasn’t prepared. Mentally at least. It was so fucking big-”
“They shushed at you?” Seungmin asked, his eyebrows raising impossible high, Minho knew that, somehow, Seungmin wasn’t exactly asking what his words implied.
“What? Hard to believe?” Minho answered.
“Minho it’s pretty loud usually” Changbin said. “Like, not on bed, like-”
“Shh, don’t get an aneurism, wifey, I know you aren’t cheating” Hyunjin reassured him.
“Who is teaching difficult words to Hyunjin?” Jisung asked. “And why is he only using them while drunk?”
“So back to the monster cock. He fucked me till I was almost crying. And then he got completely off me, he kissed my neck and turned me around saying ‘Close your eyes’ and fucking took me up in the air, got my legs around him and he pushed me against the wall again, fucked me like that, he put a hand over my eyes, covered half my face. I’m not sure if he didn’t want me to recognize him-”
“Or he didn’t want you to recognize him” Chan muttered, he hadn’t taken his eyes off Minho since the story had started, not even the distractions from the others making him lose the intensity in his gaze.
“Right” Minho said back, almost a whisper.
“Hey” Seungmin started to say, but Minho interrupted him.
“So, I came on his cock and he fucked me during it, I started crying again, have you ever cried because of overstimulation? Fuck, best feeling ever. And then he lowered me and stayed still inside me as I gasped and tried to recover my breath, he got his hands under my shirt, got to twist and pinch my nipples before he started moving again. I’m not sure if I came a third time, I just felt like I did.”
‘You did’ Chan almost said.
“Hey” Seungmin interrupted again.
“What!” Both Minho and Changbin shouted at him.
Chan realized then, he realized what Seungmin was going to say, and he panicked, looking at him, almost jumping over the table to shut him up, but Seungmin was quicker; probably, he wasn’t processing his own thoughts completely, his mouth running way faster than his brain.
“So, Chan has a pretty similar story, doesn’t he?”
“What?” Minho looked between Seungmin and Chan.
“Oh!” Felix exclaimed. Then he, quicker than Seungmin for once, gasped and covered his mouth with both hands.
“He told us once or twice, right?” Seungmin looked at Felix, Felix nodded, still in shock. “I- I remember… Shit!” he realized then. “I haven’t said anything.”
But the damage was done.
“What?” Minho said again, much more panicked then. “Chan, please, tell me you also got fucked so good you came three times.”
“I did come?” Chan offered.
“Fuck” Minho whispered then, finished his glass in a go. “Fuck!”
“I don’t get what’s happening” Hyunjin whispered, looking at Jisung.
“Chan was Minho’s best fuck” Jeongin offered, for all he had protested he had listened to the whole story, and was now much more interested than before in the conversation.
“Don’t say that!” Chan quickly tried to stop him.
“It’s true though” Seungmin said, shrugging.
“I’m going to be sick” Minho muttered. He had gotten impossible red, he couldn’t look at Chan, of course, and he couldn’t find the quick wit that always got him out of situations. “I’m going back to my apartment. See you later, Sungie” Minho said, and got up.
Chan wasn’t much better. Even less so with everyone looking at him like he had done something horrible now that Minho had left the room.
“Did you know it was him?” Changbin asked.
Did he?
Chan swallowed and shook his head.
It had happened so long ago, but it was still so clear in his mind.
He had gone there without saying anything to anyone in the group, of course. When he arrived, he swore to not try to recognize anyone, after years as a trainee and being the social butterfly that he was it was difficult for him to stop trying to look for known faces in the crow, and he was sure he would end up finding more than a person he knew.
But he was tired of the awkwardness after a one-night stand, and he knew he couldn’t ask for more, and every hyung had told him those parties were alright, and yeah, sometimes you ended up fucking someone you knew, but you only had to act as if you didn’t and in a couple weeks the awkwardness was completely gone.
It sounded like a great plan.
And when he got into the backroom, the little light coming from the club’s lights illuminated the pretty profile of a boy and Chan instantly wanted to be on his knees for him. He was so pliant under his hands, his moans were so cute, and when he whined, he reminded him of someone, and those little whispers of ‘more’ and ‘harder’ they sounded like a known melody.
But he had talked more than Minho had said, had told him how pretty he was, had mouthed how he wanted to ruin him against a neck that felt well known. And the other hadn’t seem to recognize him, probably too blissfully silly to do so, now that he knew how Minho had felt. And so, he did his best effort not to recognize him either.
When they were to part, Chan took him by the chin, closed his eyes and lowered his mask to kiss him. The shape of those lips light up a bulb in his head, he quickly turned it off.
Minho hadn’t said anything about that kiss, but, for Chan, it was what hunted him the most for the next weeks.
He remembered the incidents.
“What are you looking at?” Minho said, mouth full as he munched on a big salad.
“Nothing” Chan answered.
“You’re looking at my mouth. Do I have something?”
“Yeah, a lot of lettuce.”
Minho rolled his eyes, looked away and didn’t comment anything else.
The same day, during dance practice, Minho put his hands on Chan and made him roll his hips, when he did, Minho looked at him, for an instant, it seemed like he was going to say something, to do something, he didn’t, he nodded and said “Yeah, like that, good” and moved away, turning his back to Chan. Chan couldn’t help but think that that bony ass of his reminded him or one he had intimately felt just that weekend.
Sometime later, everyone was watching a film together, and Minho had sat next to him, his body flushed against his and Chan put an arm around his waist, Minho looked up at him, again, that look.
“What?” Chan whispered, low enough that only Minho would hear him, still, he came closer.
“Nothing” Minho whispered back, he didn’t look away, coming closer too, he looked at Chan’s lips, licked his own. He seemed to be thinking pretty hard, in any other situation Chan would have told him not to hurt himself, right that moment though, he too was thinking too much trying to, both, unveil and kept hidden a little secret.
“Stop that” Seungmin said, clapping Chan’s knee.
They did.
As the weeks keep passing by, it was far easier to be on the same room as Minho, whatever tension there was quickly dissolving. So, what if the stranger had been quite similar to him? It wasn’t like there wasn’t any other people in the world with similar lips, neck, hips… voice, to Minho’s. And Minho seemed to decide the same thing, because he went back to normal.
As normal as Minho could be, that’s it.
And then years later, he drunkly told the story to Seungmin and Felix once. And it made him remember, and that time, even when he hadn’t seen anything when it happened for real, he couldn’t but imagine Minho’s face, and he was sure of his voice, and sure of his lips. It was Minho coming undone on his tongue and then his cock, and there wasn’t any other possible person doing so. No one else could beg for him like that, a little meaner than anyone he had before or after, and, at the same time, almost kissing the floor he walked on, as if he was being fucked by his own divinity.
After that night, the retelling one, things got awkward again for a couple months. Chan got a little obsessed. He would think about it every time Minho was close, and he was close a lot.
And then they had to sleep on the same bed and Chan couldn’t even wink his eyes. Too preoccupied he would do something stupid like moan Minho’s name on his sleep or, God forbid, touch him or get his hard-on against him or something.
Then, Minho rolled over to him.
“Channie” he whined, and got his arm around his stomach. “It hurts” he said. Chan got alert for a second, only hearing those words were enough to kick him into action, was he having a nightmare or- “Your cock’s too big, please”
Fuck.
“Channie” Minho whined again, and he griped at his side, squeezing him, his hips rutted against him and Chan knew he was hard, felt him against his thigh, and he felt his own dick starting to fill up. “Faster” he whispered.
Ah. That was. That reminded him of something. That was that voice, the stranger’s (that had never really been one) voice. Chan didn’t know what to do, he got his hand around the one Minho had put on his side and tried to pat at it, mostly because it was gripping so hard it was brushing, so painful already; and Chan didn’t dare touch any other part of Minho.
He moaned again, and then, as Chan was getting so hard that he was starting to feel his mind blurry, Minho let go of him and rolled on his side, shutting up. He didn’t move again for the rest of the night, Chan knew because he couldn’t sleep at all.
The next morning when he woke up Minho had already left the room. He didn’t act any different, just looking weirded out at Chan when he caught him staring from time to time.
That too passed. As time went on Chan almost completely forgot about the story.
But something stayed, the way he would shiver when Minho playfully touched him, the want to stay close to him, the need to just be by his side.
It wasn’t a crush. And it wasn’t pure lust either.
Chan did his best not to think about it, and during years it had worked.
---
Minho buried himself in the bed, but the mere touch of the blankets was too much, he kicked at them, got his feet tangled and almost fell of the mattress before he could breathe again.
So, it had been Chan.
The man that had been his only spank material for a whole year, the recurring fantasy he still had from time to time.
Of course it had been Chan, because life couldn’t be easy.
His biggest crush ever, the man he had dreamed about taking on dates and undoing after on big hotel beds during years.
Thay had already fucked.
How was he going to act normal now? He was ruined.
It had been so good. Minho could remember every detail. He could remember how much he had liked that the man voice was so similar to Chan’s, that his hands were calloused too and had left an imprint on his hips.
He always changed the fantasy so he wasn’t wearing a condom, the cum dripping out of him, marking him, he had wished it was Chan’s.
The weeks after it had been torture. He felt as if Chan knew it, like he was reading his dirty mind, his eyes on him, on his lips, the little arch on his eyebrows while he looked at him from time to time and Minho could only act surprised, trying not to show how ashamed he was that he had gotten off to his image a few hours ago.
He remembered vividly a karaoke night, the way Chan had let him drape around him, the way he had held his hips against his while they singed a romantic duet; Chan had excused himself to the toilet right after, Minho liked to think he had gotten all hot and bothered against Minho.
For years after it he had fought against his gigantic crush. Too aware of how messed up it was, how it could shatter the whole group dynamic. He had promised to never use Chan’s image again, to never compare his hands to those of the mystery man again.
But from time to time, he got desperate.
Like that time when they were filming in a remote location, and Chan got all handsy, like he was in heat or something, his hands all over Minho, and he was saying ‘baby’ and ‘honey’, and they weren’t supposed to sleep together, but Felix begged for a change of rooms so he could sleep with Hyunjin and Minho conceded after some bribery from the little sunshine.
And that’s how Minho ended in the same room as Chan, thankfully they had two beds, not like that time a few months ago when they had to share, that time Minho had woken up so hard he was hurting and he had bolted out the room so quick he had almost fallen to the floor two times.
But being on another bed also meant that Chan was more comfortable sleeping with less clothes on, and, soon after he was on the bed, he kicked the duvet, making his whole body visible in the dime light coming from the window. Minho turned not to look at him.
But then he turned his head back, they always said curiosity kills the cat. It sure did that night.
Chan looked directly out of a magazine, his curly hair was already messed up from not having stylized it when he came out of the shower, some of it falling over his eyes, his mouth was slightly open in a pout, his whole face turned towards Minho, it made the tendon on his neck show, Minho wanted to trace it with his tongue, he must be feeling cold even when he had kicked the duvet, because his nipples were pointy, and fuck, those tits, Minho could live on Chan’s pecs, a hand in each breast.
One of his hands was resting against his abs, and the moonlight was bathing him like he was a painting, resalting each indentation on both, his muscles and his veiny hand; his other hand was inside his underwear, his arm covering his v line in one side, but Minho could imagine it with how pretty the other side looked. Minho could make up the way Chan was unconsciously gripping his own bulge making it appear even bigger; Minho looked away from it, following the line of his powerful thighs down his legs, and then Chan turned, ass in full display.
“Fuck” Minho whispered.
“Minho” Chan immediately whispered back.
It was just like Chan to use any excuse to stop sleeping, right? Even the slightest of noises, so Minho didn’t flog himself too much for having woken him up.
Then Chan muttered something again.
“I can’t hear you” Minho whispered back, annoyed that Chan was telling him off because of a whisper.
“Ruin you” Chan said, Minho could hear it perfectly. But he couldn’t -shouldn’t- understand it. “Minho.”
Minho moved his own covers away; he inched closer to the edge of the bed. His ears weren’t tricking him, they never had before. He wanted to get closer, fuck, he wanted to hear, but he wanted to see even more, he wanted to see if Chan’s hands were moving, he wanted to turn him around so he would face him, and he wanted…
He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t even think about it, he had done so well lately, not even thinking about it when Chan rolled his hips on their dances, not even when Chan flexed his muscles and told any of them that he could lift them up (Felix always taking him on the offer, little lucky one).
He was on his hands and knees, crawling to him like the nasties little needy thing, wishing for Chan to turn around and see him like that, on his knees for him, and take up his silent offer, shove his thick cock on his mouth and fuck it like Minho’s throat was made for it.
He got a trembling hand on Chan’s bed. He could hear Chan’s grunting, he could see his arm tensing and relaxing ever so slightly, from that close he could even smell Chan’s arousal.
“Minnie” he moaned again.
It burned Minho, threw him back, almost falling on his ass, the only thing stopping the fall was the conscious knowledge that he should make no noise.
He ran, once again, he ran out of the room, found himself standing on the kitchen like he was a Sim with his order cancelled, looking upfront like a ghost waiting to appear in some grainy photograph.
He tentatively moved a hand down his stomach, shaking when he felt it on his dick. He was so hard.
“Hey.” The voice startled him, making Minho jump forwards. He was conscious enough to get his hand of his bulge before turning. “Couldn’t sleep?” Chan asked him, he walked towards him. Minho shivered. Chan passed him by with a smile, moving him to the side, with a light push on his side, to get to the fridge and get some cold water off it. “It’s weird, must be the weather, I feel hot and cold at the same time.”
“Yeah” Minho answered, still too far gone.
“Are you alright? You look pale.”
“Thanks” Minho answered. “Always nice to look pale as an idol.”
“Like, sick-pale.”
“Something always nice to hear, then.”
Chan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He came back from the fridge and stood in front of Minho. He realized he had been standing still the whole time when Chan poked him on his side to make him move again.
“You were giving me shivers; thought you were a ghost or something.”
“Go back to bed, Chan.”
“Hey, if you can’t sleep, we could always cuddle!” Chan offered, poked Minho again. Wasn’t he aware of how hard Minho still was? Chan had had to be on the same situation just minutes ago, right? He looked down.
“On your dreams” he answered as he did so. And Chan was hard. He was still very much hard, completely visible with him only wearing underwear, he hadn’t even bothered covering it before going out to get some water. Fuck him.
“Doctors say it’s relaxing” Chan shrugged. He realized quickly what Minho was looking at. He looked away. “It’s a normal reaction” Chan explained, Minho wasn’t sure if he was still talking about the cuddling thing of explaining himself.
“If you do it with someone you love” Minho retorted. “Not anyone.”
“You didn’t seem to care before” Chan whispered back, he moved closer, his head down too, looking at Minho’s very similar state, their foreheads knocked softly.
“What?” Minho’s heart was racing, he looked up.
“I mean, we’ve cuddled before, you didn’t seem to mind the loving part” Chan answered, Minho’s shoulders dropped, relaxing only slightly. “So?”
“Yeah, alright. Just get out of my face” Minho answered, pushed Chan back, but it only earned him a big hug from the other. All sexual tension dissolved except for how easily Minho could fell Chan’s hard-on against his own, and no one commented on the little sound he made.
Chan even held his hand on their way back to the room, they crossed paths with Seungmin and he arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment on it, only waving them goodbye as he changed rooms, to where, Minho wasn’t sure, to preoccupied by the feeling of his fingers interlacing with Chan’s.
Chan flopped into his own bed, opening his arms for Minho, Minho rolled his eyes, the moon was hitting him again like it had done before, and Chan was offering for him all those muscles he had been salivating about, and he was still so mouthwatering hard that Minho, for a delirious moment, thought about asking if he could suck him. In a bro way, or whatever Chan wanted him to call it. He didn’t. But he got himself between Chan’s arms.
Chan smiled and flexed his pecs, as if Minho wasn’t conscious enough about them.
“You can touch” he whispered, left a kiss on top of Minho’s head.
Minho did touch. He wasn’t stupid enough not to do it, it would have been weirder if he didn’t, anyway (‘Yeah, perfect excuse, Minho’ he thought).
Chan parted his legs slightly and cradled Minho’s leg on top of his, like Minho was his doll to position however he wanted. Minho looked up at him, Chan was looking at him, the look so clear, it was so clear that if Minho asked Chan would say yes, that what he was feeling against his thigh was there all for him.
Minho closed his eyes, buried his head against Chan neck, slowly, slightly, and whiny, moved his hips against Chan’s leg, once, twice, thrice before stopping. He listened to Chan’s accelerated breath, felt his hand on his waist, keeping him close, urging him to move again.
A shout from another bedroom made Minho open his eyes again, Chan looked unaffected, but after seconds of holding Minho’s look, seconds of inching closer, of his hand gripping on his waist and the other drawing circles on his thigh. Chan laughed. Minho did too.
They moved away, Minho rolling to his side and Chan protesting he was crushing his arm. The shouts from the other room got louder, then a door opened and closed with a loud thud and the room was quiet again. A prank.
Yeah. Everything felt like a prank, Minho thought.
Chan did cuddle him after it again, spooning him and kissing the top of his head again, but the tension, the feeling, the need, it was all buried again, and Minho didn’t rut his hips back to meet Chan’s softening cock, and Chan’s hand rested on his mid tummy instead of slowly lowering itself.
---
Back to that terrible night that had just unraveled.
Jisung knocked on the door, taking Minho out of his thoughts; he opened it without waiting for an answer, savvy of him because Minho would have opted for not answering.
“How are you?”
“Good, Sungie, I’ll just move to Chile and pay all of my small fortune in hopes of developing an erasing-memories serum for all of you.”
“Wow, way to overexaggerate a situation; you usually aren’t like this.”
“Well, I don’t usually find out I’ve fucked Chan before.”
“So, it’s true?”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure it is. No, it definitely happened. Life’s a bitch like that.”
“And is it still the best fuck you ever had?” Jisung asked, and he giggled his eyebrows like Minho’s whole life wasn’t crumbling before his eyes.
“Jisung, I’m going to kill all of you, but you’ll go first.”
“Nice, I hate waiting, makes my anxiety worse.” Jisung sat at the bed, making sure to make Minho jump a little when he fell down on it. “So, that’s something that happened. But it was a long time ago, right?”
“Right.”
“So, you can just keep going with your life, I’m sure Chan won’t make it weird.”
“Haven’t you known him the longest? He’ll absolutely make it weird.”
“Well, but he won’t hold it over you, and, hey! It happens that you were also his best fuck, so!”
“Shut up, please. You’re so bad at this.”
“Do you want me to call someone else?” Jisung asked, he was being sincere, it broke Minho’s already shattered heart.
“No, no, I’m joking, Sungie, you’re perfect, come here.”
Jisung cradled him on his arms, and he calmed down a little, enough to notice that he had been crying out of pure rage and confusion.
“They are going to tease you like crazy, though” Jisung said when he felt Minho had calmed down almost completely.
“Yeah, I know.”
---
And tease they did.
The next morning it was almost unbearable, with Chan acting all sorry and delicate around Minho and with the rest making heart signs at them when they found them on the same room. Minho was sure that they were even calling them over just so they could tease them over their newly found awkwardness.
Minho discovered soon enough that, if he didn’t want to end on the news and then prison; he needed to talk to Chan at least, so that night he called him to his kitchen.
“Hear me out.”
“Right” Chan said, smiling and taking seat in front of him.
It did nothing to Minho having Chan taking his orders so easily, siting on that Chair, legs open, looking up at him.
“So, we had sex. It was a long time ago. We didn’t know. It didn’t happen again. Let’s pretend we never realized the truth and keep going with our lives.”
“Alright.”
‘Alright’? That simple? Not that Minho had wished for something different, but he had expected it, some bullshit about talking about their feelings (a confession, maybe), at least some acknowledgement that it had been special (a love confession, maybe), or that it would be difficult, at least for some time, to pretend that night hadn’t happened (a yearning, beautiful, gay, love confession).
Chan smiled up at him and put his fist in front of him, waiting for Minho to hit it with his, when he did, Chan, still smiling dumbly, got up from the chair, carefully moved Minho back with his hands on his hips, and moved out of the kitchen, shouting for Jisung to get ready because they were going out together to the studio (it as already 10 p.m.).
So yeah, that settled that.
For a couple more days, Minho dealt with the others by rolling his eyes or ignored them.
Then Jeongin made the little heart sign at them when they were waiting for an interview and Minho smiled and kissed Chan’s cheek, it made Jeongin turn around making a disgusted face.
Fuck, how hadn’t he thought of that, of course.
So, that same night, when they all were out eating and they started to crack jokes at their expense, Minho took a piece of meat with his chopsticks.
“Open up, say ah, darling” Minho said. Chan looked at him with wide eyes at first, but quickly giggled and opened his mouth. “Eat up, eat up” Minho whispered.
It made Chan laugh so hard that he almost choked, but it stopped the jokes, everyone laughed and changed the topic, satisfied. As the night went on, Minho keep doing it and Chan started doing it too.
“You have to eat more” Chan said, the first time he brought his chopsticks to Minho, Minho almost jumped back, startled, but he opened up, looking at Chan like he was the one that had started doing something weird out of nowhere.
“Stop that” Seungmin muttered.
“Let them be!” Felix, a little drunk, shouted back. “Beautiful hyung love!” he proclaimed, and everyone was laughing again, except for Minho, who wanted to come up with a new threat for Felix and all the other kids, but, when Chan kissed his temple, and brought him closer, almost making Minho sat at his lap, he forgot about it.
Of course, it didn’t stop there.
Next off day, they were going to watch a film and Changbin was sitting on the couch next to Chan, his feet on top of his lap, when Minho got into the living room, lowering a gigantic bowl of popcorn to Felix and Jisung who were sitting at the floor, Changbin got up.
“It’s not what it seems like” he said, putting his hands up and moving to be further away from Minho, Minho arched an eyebrow to the stupid joke, but, the astros weren’t on his favor that day (or for the last couple of weeks for the matter) and Hyunjin started laughing, what made everyone else laugh too.
“Yeah, know your place, walrus” Minho spat his way and everyone started laughing even harder as Changbin faked an attempted attack as Minho sat on the couch next to Chan.
“Stop fighting, baby” Chan said. Minho was sure the nickname was supposed to be for comedic effect, but he said it so naturally that it didn’t sit as a joke, everyone ‘aw’ed, then, started making increasingly rougher puking sounds as Chan got Minho to actually sit on his lap, leaving an empty space for Changbin on the couch.
“Out of the way” Jisung shouted.
“I think he’s actually going to puke now” Jeongin said, making a disgusted face.
“You know what they say, fake it till you make it…” Seungmin whispered, his eyes locked on Minho.
Minho looked away.
And so, peace was back. Minho thought he would go back into the couch during the film, but Chan didn’t let go of him, and Changbin even returned to the position next to him taking all space on the couch. Chan was drawing circles on his thigh like he had done that other night Minho had stopped thinking about, and Minho sometimes looked at him and found him looking at his profile and not the film.
He was a very good practitioner of taking all those thoughts and burying them deep deep down till they became nothing.
Then the waters calmed down for a while.
That was till Changbin came into the dressing room during a fan meeting and pointed at Minho, asking “Where is your boyfriend?”
That made everyone start a little nasty game of calling them boyfriends every time they could get away with it, it always made Minho mad, and Chan blush-y.
But, quickly enough, everyone seemed to get used to it, and it wasn’t a way of teasing them anymore, just another joke integrated into the group so deep that it had developed into a habit; even Minho got kind of used to it (sometimes he wanted to pull his hair out, but it wasn’t as often as before).
And so, Minho could breathe again. And yes, sometimes he would catch Chan looking at him with a little too much adoration on his eyes; and sometimes he will find himself staring for longer than necessary; and he would blush and awkwardly smile when Chan got him pudding from his favorite place without Minho asking for it, or when he would buy him something that ‘reminded him of him’.
But it didn’t mean anything.
And, once again, the incident had been successfully forgotten. Everyone (Minho and Chan even more so) was very pleased about it.
Then Halloween came around.