Archive of Our Own

A thing Chan has never sought for was drastic change. He enjoyed stability, it gave him hope for tomorrow. His friends and family told him he's hard to move around, but when things run swiftly in front of his eyes he gets overwhelmed. So he’s doing fine now.

Chan has found himself in an empty aisle. It looked pretty unimpressive, people don’t really buy books and magazines in supermarkets, but it seemed like the staff completely gave up on this part of the store – quick glance on editions and they are over six months old.

Maybe Chan is getting a little restless. He appreciates routines. He thinks it’s healthy that he’s so used to his daily schedule that he doesn't have to set his alarm, waking up at the same hour every morning. He’s glad he has a stable job. After all, what feels more grounding than knowing exactly how much you're spending on your groceries every week? What makes you feel more secure than knowing you have relevant spending habits? Yet the problem is that lately it’s been hard to tell one day from another. He doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Looking up from a half-empty metal railing with postcards, Chan meets gazes with another customer, somewhat his age. He diverts his eyes and starts making his way out of the aisle when they look back at him.

Chan only chose to live in the outskirts with a high rate of elderly population because of the cheap rent, and he doesn’t really care for anything else because the area doesn’t make him feel dizzy with its heavy traffic or bright advertisements that bigger cities have. Seeing people in their 20’s here is unusual cause, well, it’s pretty boring here also; once teens graduate local school, they go to the city for college, and then only people in their 30’s settle here with their families. But the best excuse Chan can make for the person’s location is that they are one of his neighbors’ grandchild or… something like a children’s tutor. Anyways Chan shouldn't be wondering about strangers' private lives.

Even if these kinds of strangers become the highlight of Chan’s day. Randomly, when his thoughts start straying away from his usual concerns, he remembers them once or twice during the week until he stumbles upon them again, in the same convenience store.

Seeing people in suits lining up in a queue is telling him it's the rush hour. He sighs shifting weight from one leg to another, holding his groceries tighter in his hands (because he thought the spree would be quick so he didn’t bother taking a cart).

“Need help?” he hears someone say behind him. He turns to see if he’s the one being talked to.

“Uh, no, thanks” Chan says to the same stranger he saw last week.

The stranger retaliates. “We’re not reaching the belt soon,” he says nodding forward, which makes Chan look where he’s pointed at, “The dude with rice packets at the front loves taking his time to talk with the cashier.

Chan just nods his head and purses his lips, trying to be polite. Few minutes later he doesn’t have to look down to know his fingers are blue from cold glass beer bottles he clutches in his hands. The line did not move an inch.

“My basket’s pretty empty, I could share,” he hears a sing-songing behind him. Chan gives up and puts his groceries in the basket, not forgetting his thanks. The persistence is just a little creepy. Gladly, the stranger doesn’t say a word until they reach the belt. Yet Chan doesn't get to gather his stuff as the other pulls it out himself, putting it behind his own groceries. Chan frowns.

“Let’s just pay together,” the man says shrugging, as if that’s how it’s done, “To save some receipt paper. Did you know it’s unrecyclable?”

“I did,” Chan says, “But I don’t carry cash. So it's fine, I’ll pay for myself” he says leaning to take his goods, but meets the body in front of him.

“It’s okay. Also I have a discount card,” he says whipping the card in question.
Chan looks the stranger in the face. His expression is calm, even feigning hospitality. That somehow makes chills run down Chan’s neck.

He looks behind to see how far they are from the cashier that apparently isn’t bothered to pick up their pace with so many people waiting in line. Not that these people look like they’re in a hurry. The leftover men and women that look like Chan’s grandparents probably don’t have anywhere to rush to at 7 o’clock. Maybe that’s an advantage for the stranger; he could ask and do all kinds of weird stuff to a person their age in front of those who actually don’t care about their fuss as long as it doesn’t disturb them. Chan considers what danger he could put himself under by flashing some of his personal info to someone else, but then again he’s pretty tired and wants his beer and noodles.

Chan sighs, reaching for his pockets to fetch his card, but then he’s shoved a phone in his face. He looks up and sees a bank’s app open, asking to type in his phone number. He fixes his gaze on the stranger that just waits for the phone to be taken from their hands.

“Is that what you want? My phone number?”

The other can’t contain a smug smile pulling at their face. It feels surreal. Chan takes the phone to his hands and switches from phone to card number option, quickly pasting the digits from his card before the weirdo in front of him starts whining.

“Hey!”

“Here. Get your discount,” Chan says, moving to greet the cashier.

“Together?” the cashier asks in a fairly relaxed tone.

“Yes,” Chan answers, glancing up. His stranger is pouting.

Chan stands by the counter, waiting for his stuff to come last. While the cashier slides a variety of cat food packets, Chan feels a bump to his shoulder. He moves aside to let the cat lady disaster collect his goods.

Once Chan’s food comes to his hands he puts it in a bag and sets off, hearing a yelp behind. He’s not going to let anything else separate him from his beer anymore, or busy him with unnecessary talk. He’ll try hard to never ever go to that store during this time. If anything, maybe it’s a nice change, this store is both close to his place and has a decent price policy, but maybe, that’s a sign he has to go out to explore new places around the town. Yep, that’s what he’s going to do.

“If you were trying to avoid me, you should’ve at least switched branches.”

Maybe he should have. It’s been exactly two weeks since Chan has been going to another store, 2 blocks farther now, but hey it’s a nice walk, isn’t it?

Not really. The narrow sidewalks, crooked streetlight stands and heavy air in this area gave him creeps. He's not that much of an athlete to skip through skimmy neighborhoods nor is he rich enough to buy overpriced vegetables in a place to the other side from his flat.

Chan turns around to the familiar voice. The same stranger leans on a cart with a green handler with a scratched off branch logo on it. He’s just a little taken aback.

“One thing I should’ve done is ask you for your name,” Chan says, stretching a smile on his face.

The other perks up in surprise, his face changing from relaxed and smug to invested.

“So that I could report stalking,” he turns back around, looking for decent veggies."

He hears a short laugh, but doesn’t spare another glance.

“It’s Lee Minho,” he hears beside him, too close. He side-eyes Minho that’s now standing in front of cucumber and tomato boxes; yellow price tags beg to get them out of here. Minho hums, probably pitying ill-looking vegetables. “Nice to meet you too, Channie.”

This time Chan looks up, for Minho’s fun; He's smiling widely, now that he has Chan’s attention.

Credit card transfer, Chan remembers. He purses his lips and looks down, collecting some sweet peppers he thinks would taste fine if he cooks them tonight.

“Look," Chan sighs, "If there’s something you want from me, just say it. What you’re doing is creep behavior,” he says, pointing a pepper at Minho. They both look down and Minho bites his lip, trying to contain a smile. Chan puts it in the plastic bag sighing, “I’m serious.”

Minho slumps his shoulders.“I thought I made it obvious. I want your number.”

Chan looks up again, frowning. “Why?”

Minho’s face falls. Chan keeps silent, upping his chin as if asking to elaborate. “You don’t get it really?”

“Why does a complete stranger need my phone number?” Chan emphasizes every word, nodding along. It’s getting ridiculous for him.

“We’re not complete strangers,” Minho crosses his arms, “We know each other’s names.”

Chan picks up his basket and strides away to another aisle. He doesn’t expect Minho to disappear, but he’s trying his best to finish this round peacefully, without causing a commotion and attracting any unnecessary attention.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“And why do you need that?”

Minho shrugs, “That’s a human need. I need communication.”

“If anything, it looks like you’re giving into your animal instincts, following me as your prey.”

Minho scrunches his nose. “I can’t decide whether you’re weird or boring.”

“Isn’t that a turn off?”

“It is. But you see, I’m a fool. I have too much free time on me.”

Chan doesn’t answer that and just proceeds to fridges with dairy.

“Whenever I see you in the store, you always buy this shitty milk,” Minho groans beside him. “Do you even read what’s written on it? It’s not even milk, it’s just powder dissolved in water.”

Chan puts aside the fact that Minho noticed him way more often than he noticed Minho. “It’s my milk. And it’s not shitty. Why do you care?”

Minho tsks. “Your buds are drugged on sugar, you don’t even notice the weird taste.”

“Are you implying something?” Chan says, paying him a puzzled look.

Minho shrugs nonchalantly. “Your accent slips here and there. Are you from the States?”

Chan scoffs. “My accent is not that bad.”

Minho rocks on his feet back and forth waiting for Chan to choose his powder milk, “At least I guessed you’re a foreigner.”

“Well done, Sherlock,” Chan says in English. Minho wrinkles his face so much as if Chan’s the one that’s been annoying him all this time, “I’m Australian.”

“Are you done? Wanna split the receipt again?” Minho asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Chan just scoffs.

When Chan looks at Minho he finds him blinking in confusion. Then the latter pushes him on the shoulder, “Nah, don’t laugh at that. I have better lines.”

“I’m sure you do.” Chan says, nodding absent-mindedly.

“You don’t want to miss out on them.”

“Sounds more like you don’t want me to miss them,” Chan says, making his way to cashboxes.

"Stop making it look like I’ve already annoyed you.”

“Maybe you did,” Chan says, getting a high-pitched ‘huh’ from the side. He turns, shrugging with one shoulder, “What? Was I speaking the wrong language the whole time?”

“You’re just playing hard to get,” Minho says, pulling up to cashier first, “Make it easier for both of us. Give me your number.”

Chan takes in another set of cat food Minho piled up. It seems like it’s enough for a whole shelter. “Send me pictures of your cats. I don’t want you to use it on any other occasion.”

Minho squeals, “Maybe you’re not that bad.”

“Thanks?” When Chan finishes emptying his basket, he straightens up and sees a phone in front of him, again. He looks at Minho and sees a cat-like persistent expression on his face: his eyes open, staring at Chan without blinking, his mouth relaxed, but still he looks kind of cute like that. If they stayed like that a little more, Chan’s confident Minho would start jerking his ears just to turn Chan’s attention back to what’s at hand, or literally, what’s in his hand. “Cat pictures only.”

Unknown: *a cat pic*
this is doongie
Chan: hello stranger
u should’ve called me or something so that I could save your contact
thanks tho
my day is better now
Minho: see im the light in your miserable life
you were fighting me so hard
see what u’ve almost missed on
Chan: u have nothing to do w this
it’s your cat
Minho: u do know im the one sending the pics not doongie
Chan: and u say im boring
anyways unless its doongie don’t text me I told u
Minho: hey channie this is doongie minho hyung wants to know if u’re busy tonight
Chan: hi doongie why would he ask this
also tell him I don’t want him to call me channie
its chan or hyung for him
Minho: meow you’re so cold
Chan: sorry
Minho: do u like movies?
Chan: doongie?
Minho: obviously
Chan: no I don’t
Minho: why not
Chan: short attention span
gotta go doongs
tty later
Minho: catch u in the store?

“What happened to your attention span?”

It’s later in the day when Chan drops by his usual store, shopping before going home and shutting down completely until the next morning. He’s been busy the whole day yet he didn’t take Minho’s message seriously and now is dealing with repercussions.

“Hello to you, too. Where is Doongie?” Chan says looking around as if he’s actually hoping to see the cat.

“At home?” Minho says, frowning at him.

Chan looks him over. The only few times he saw Minho he looked... presentable, he may have even worn makeup. This time he’s wearing sweatpants and an outdoors jacket over a plain black shirt.

“You alright? You sound stressed?” Chan pulls a brow up.

Minho huffs, clearly frustrated. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Chan doesn’t pressure, turning to a groats shelf. He only recognizes Minho stayed silent all this time when he finally picks up the right pack and puts it in his cart.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to explode right now,” Chan says, trying to look Minho in the face, yet the latter keeps his gaze trained on a window as if he can’t wait to run out of the store to save some stray cats. Chan leans in, looking out the same way, but fails to see anything particular.
Minho snaps his head at Chan, biting his bottom lip.

“Can we just talk? Back to your attention span for movies?” he repeats again. Chan purses his lips; he wasn’t hired to entertain Minho.

Maybe he’s too kind. “I don’t like sitting around waiting for plot to unfold,” he pushes the cart down the hall, “I don’t mind action though. But it can be too much in your face.”

“Do you maybe still have a favorite movie?” Minho presses, idly chewing on his lip.

“I don’t think I do,” Chan says sighing, “I don’t mind TV series. And books,” he adds shrugging insecurely, “I can sit through 40 minutes of an episode and then watch the next one whenever I feel like it. And I read chapter by chapter, I never bookmark in the middle of a chapter.”

“That’s weird. What if you get bored in the process? You still read til the end?”

“No, I drop it. Then start over, cause I usually take month long breaks, or something like that.”

“School must have been hard for you,” Minho says but he doesn’t mean anything bad. He fakes a shudder and whines, “Wow, you’re really a weirdo.”

Chan barks out a laugh. “I wasn't being serious,” he smirks, “Just trying to shake you up. You stress me out looking mad like this.”

Minho slumps his shoulders. “I’m not mad,” he mumbles, “I’m just kind of overwhelmed. With work, I guess.”

“You know you don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” Chan gives him a tight-lipped smile.

“Just say you don’t care about me.”

“As long as I get cat pictures from you, you’re fine," he hisses and rubs his forearm, to where Minho beats him, “Chill. If anything, we’re no one to each other, remember? So there’s nothing to be sad about.”

Minho sulks again, but Chan thinks he’s just putting up a show, as he hears him speak again. “You’re so persistent in pushing your strangers agenda on us.”

“Because we are strangers? And there’s no “us”,” he shows quotation marks with one hand, “I can't tell what's your interest, all I got is cat pictures,” he feels a stern look on his back when he reaches for an orange juice box, “Wait, is that how cat people flirt?”

Minho doesn’t answer right away, but once Chan faces him, a glint is visible in his eyes. As if he saw something shiny and is ready to jump on him to catch it, “So you’re waiting for something more?”

In all honesty, Chan isn’t sure. He’s not sure why he didn’t do a better job at avoiding Minho or calling up security on him the first two times. He’s not sure why he’s trying to entertain him now, why he still goes to the store at the time Minho goes there too. He’s not annoyed with Minho, actually. Their interactions humor him and he laughs to himself whenever they suddenly pop up in his head.

Does Chan like Minho? He’s fun, to say the least. Does Chan feel like he could entertain Minho's shenanigans?

“Where do you want to go?”

“I’m not watching Cats,” Chan says, stopping completely and crossing arms on his chest.

It’s Wednesday and both have found themselves free in the middle of the week, rather than on weekends. Better for them, cinema hall is probably empty just for them, middle schoolers and some stray duos of parents and their kindergarten-age children. Except Chan isn’t really excited.

“I thought you liked cats,” Minho says, chewing on popcorn; his tone is innocent.

“I like real cats. Those that meow and have natural fur all over their body.”

“Sphynx cats are cute too,” Minho says frowning playfully.

“Yes, cause they’re real cats. Not people distorted with CGI,” Chan says frustrated, “Are you trying to pull some joke here?”

Minho yelps in question, a straw stuck between his lips, “A joke? I’m trying to find the movie genre for your attention span,” he gulps and gives Chan his drink. Chan takes it from his hand and sips. It’s cold, too cold. He feels his teeth aching from the freeze, “I’m being very serious.”

Nothing actually has been serious between them, not their conversations, real life or through texts (Minho kept sending Chan his cats - he’s now acquantained with two more, Soonie and Dori). One day it’ll all feel super weird, overused and unfunny to him, yet at times like this Chan is intrigued at what lengths of ridiculousness Minho can go.

“You didn’t buy tickets yet, right?” Chan asks, his voice is laced with hope. He’s never seen any trailers or teasers, but one look at a poster hanging behind Minho was enough to weird him out.

At this Minho rolls his eyes really hard, whining lowly. Chan wonders if it hurts.

“No, I didn’t,” he says defeated.

“I’m sorry but furry James Corden is the last thing I want to see on a date,” Chan says pitifully.

“You’ve crashed my dreams.”

Chan hangs his head, chuckling. “Making out to musicals is wack. But when it’s a cat musical - that’s a turn off.”

He checks time - it’s 3pm, then pockets his phone back and looks Minho over; he now wears mischief on his face with a light shade of pink to his cheeks.

Chan picked Minho up from the address he texted him. He wasn’t sure if that’s where he actually lived, cause it seemed as if someone didn’t want to let go of him, interrogating him right on the doorstep. When Minho plopped down on a passenger seat he was out of breath. He wore a hoodie with some funky print on it and jeans; not that Chan dressed any fancier - he was in all black, as usual.

“Am I your side thing or was it your mom that pampered you,” Chan said, trying to contain a laugh.

Minho glared at him, still trying to catch his breath. He fixed his hair and hummed, looking in front of him, to the road.

“My halmonie, actually,” he said as if he lost something to Chan, “She’s a little old-fashioned. She’s sad I didn't tell her about my girlfriend I have a date with. I told her she’s slippery. Kinda cold to me,” he turned back to Chan; his expression unreadable.

“I was told I have solid chest muscles,” Chan said, patting his chest and making Minho’s gaze follow his movements, “And my laughter is higher than my speaking voice. Maybe she won’t notice. Let’s go, introduce me to her.”

“Shut up,” Minho said, chuckling a little, “I dropped by after work to feed the cats,” he says, looking down at himself, “but she also had some chores and she asked me to help… so I’m kinda sweaty right now, to be honest.”

Chan laughed out loud. “I’m glad you’re taking care of your elders,” he stopped there for a second, “Some of them.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Chan shrugged nonchalantly, pursing his lips. “You’re not that nice to me. You don't even use honorifics on me.”

Minho rolled his eyes, looking out of the window. Chan started the car and looked back to move from his parking spot, catching a glimpse of Minho jiggling his leg.

“Never thought a Chris would mind informal speech. Besides,” he turned to face Chan, “you’re only a year older.”

Chan clicked his tongue, circling the steering wheel and looking in front of him again, “I should tell on you to your halmonie. You’re talking rudely to your hyung,” he heard a loud groan from Minho’s side that made him laugh out loud, “And don’t bully me for my English name. It’s my legal name.”

“It's not your name,” he huffed, keeping his gaze at Chan until he averted his gaze from the road, “It’s your lame KakaoTalk profile picture."

Chan shrinks; he’s been told the same thing numerous times previously; he just doesn't get what's so wrong with it, “It’s not lame.”

“You were thinking of making out with me?” Minho says, sounding awfully prideful, “That’s flattering. Considering you haven't expressed your attraction for me previously.”

Chan laughs in his throat, letting a smirk pull on one side of his face, dimple popping and making Minho’s eyes shift for a little.

“So what, you want a kiss as a reward?”

Chan says lifting his chin at him.

Surprise on his face appears, then he laughs lightly. “Would you give it to me?”

Chan takes another sip from Minho’s drink, the latter’s eyes fall to Chan’s lips for a second and then they lock gazes. Chan’s not greedy, nor does he find giving Minho a quick peck too intimate or disturbing for the public. Yet he enjoys the way Minho is excited for it, makes it feel even more thrilling for Chan to drag this out.

They couldn’t decide where to go next, as no other movie name sounded appealing to them. Besides, it's the middle of the week, so most attractions are closed until weekends.

“Whatever,” Minho says with his hand buried in a popcorn box, “I know a place.”

Chan turns his head at this, hand reaching in the box. He might not enjoy popcorn as much as Minho apparently does, but he can endure it to get rid of the box faster and finally do something else besides strolling the empty mall.

“Your place,” he says with a smirk so smug Chan wants to cringe.

“Not until I see your cats,” the elder replies, withdrawing his hand and instantly putting it to his mouth, his head hanging back.

Minho narrows his eyes at Chan, snatching the box out of his grasp, then strays to the side to dump it away.

“Not with halmonie home,” he muses.

“Oh, come on,” Chan whines, “Tell her as it is. You’re bringing a friend to play with the cats. Be clear and honest.”

“You seem more interested in my cats than in me,” Minho says, squinting. He puts his hands in his jacket as they exit the mall.

“Why do you live here?”

Minho shrugs. “I didn’t want to go to college. And halmonie just happened to have her knees starting to sore up when I graduated high school, so I thought it’s a win-win situation,” he stops speaking, his face wrinkling in thought, eyes rolling up a little, “A win-win-win-win actually,” he says counting on his fingers.

Chan scoffs, “What?”

Minho takes Chan’s hand by the wrist and starts unfolding his fingers now, “No college. A job,” Chan arches his brows, “Halmonie’s running a place here,” he explains swiftly, not missing how Chan’s interest has picked up on this, “I’m not a complete disappointment in my parents’ eyes. It’s kind of a hero grandchild image for them. I have cousins, but they’re all in Seoul and are much older, with their families and kids,” he says that off-handedly, pulling at Chan’s middle finger carefully, “And I love halmonie. Really, I used to take trains to hang out at her’s for weekends and school breaks. It’s cool here. Chill. Lots of stray cats too.”

Once he stops his narration he lowers their hands, but doesn’t drop them completely. Chan hums, slightly smiling to himself. He takes Minho’s hand in his, making him lift his head.

“That’s so sweet.”

Minho gazes at him. He feels his cheeks heating up a little, flustered. He can’t come up with anything to rile Chan up for his dry response.

“What is your reason?” Minho asks instead. Chan’s palm feels warm and big against his own. He caresses a thumb against the side of Minho’s palm, making him feel kind of nervous. He’s not sure why.

“Cheap rent,” he muses and takes a prolonged pause, then adds, “Also, yes, it’s pretty chill. Kind of boring on free days cause there aren't many decent pubs,” he picks his gaze up from the ground, “Does your halmonie run an underground pub by chance cause I honestly went back and forth this area and found nothing.”

Minho tsks. “No, you won’t find pubs in here. Restaurants serve alcohol, but people come here to settle down with a family. And I guess pubs aren't that family-friendly."

Chan rolls his eyes slightly, "It’s just a coincidence I met someone my age here in a convenience store out of all places,” he scratches at his nape.

Minho snorts at that, but doesn’t add anything.

“So, where’s the family business going down?” Chan says, tucking their intertwined hands inside his jacket’s pocket, “Should I drop by sometime?”

Minho gapes at him, being pulled closer to Chan, their shoulders collapsing. He gulps under Chan’s gaze that follows every shift in his expression. Minho settles at pursing his lips and frowning.

His hand is getting warmer in Chan’s hold, but he doesn't withdraw it, “I won’t tell you.”

“Why not?” a pout can be heard in Chan’s voice.

“Cause it's my workplace. I’m busy throughout the day. Can’t just flirt with clients.”

"Okay, busyyy. I just wanted to eat out. I have the appetite for good food."

It's better like that. Minho really doesn't think he'd be able to deliver his usual tasks knowing Chan is there, in the reach of a stretched arm, sitting outside of the restaurant's kitchen, chewing on some order Minho didn't cook nor arranged.

"What else do you want to do?" the elder muses.

Minho feels giddy, so he smiles. "Kiss."

Chan huffs through his nose. "It's even funnier when you don't get it your way."

"If it's so funny why did you give in?"

"Pardon?"

"Why would you give your number, if I’m such a bother?" Minho says, shrugging, "You can’t say it’s all only for cats’ pictures.”

“Why not?” Chan replies immediately because this is exactly what he wanted to say.

“Because there’s been no cat for two weeks and yet you’re holding my hand and thinking of making out with me. For the second time today,” Minho announces, proud of himself, swinging their hands side to side.

"What do you want me to say?”

"I know you like me. Why play hard to get?”

Chan gawks at him. It’s simple for him… except it’s not. He doesn’t know why he enjoys that. Why he’s interested in Minho. If Minho was to ask Chan the exact reason why he's here with him, he’d just shrug. No actual reason. And that also makes him nervous - not knowing what’s their destination, what are Minho’s intentions. Because Chan is also still deciding on that and in case he’s not on the same page with the younger, that’s not going to feel pleasant.

Chan clicks his tongue unintentionally when he opens his mouth and that makes what he says sounds a little harsher than he wanted, but in the end he doesn’t do anything to fix the impression. “I’m just trying to show that getting in your pants is not my end goal.”

Minho stays silent, blinking at him until Chan pulls his hand and locks forearms with him, forcing him to continue walking.

They text much more often, every day actually. And not that it hurts Chan’s pride, but it certainly fuels Minho’s ego that the older is the one that initiates the conversation mostly.

Well, that’s only natural, Chan thinks. He who’d fallen out of his friendships over a year ago found it exciting to finally have someone to talk to about his day. Chan can admit he’s a little clingy, but he’s not ashamed, knowing well that’s what makes Minho feel like he’s winning this game. And maybe Chan could give it to him.

"Nice jeans," Chan says the other day to Minho. He's standing behind the younger, as the latter studies some cat food package's content list. Minho lifts his head and turns slightly. He sees Chan looking him up and down, smirking.

Minho glances down to his old ratty trousers. He put those on in a rush this morning and now he has to constantly pick them up by waist.

But then Minho is struck with realization. He could feel blush tinting his cheeks as he opens his mouth to retort to Chan's indecency. He didn't get to turn his body around as he felt hands landing on the smaller of his back.

"A little slow, aren't we?" Minho could hear Chan a little closer now. It wasn't mocking, but Minho knew what was on the mind of the elder.

Minho just huffed. "Wow. Such a low blow," he tried playing cool, "At least give me a warning next time."

"Before complimenting you? I like your fit," he says as his hand lands on Minho's belt, patting it. If that wasn't for high rise, Chan would be straight patting his ass, "You're unsure about it?"

"I thought you were still on your strangers agenda," Minho says that but he can hear his tone lacking the bite that's intended to be there. Instead, that just sounds a little petty and bothered, especially with the way he's avoiding Chan's gaze who's now leaning in and studying his face from the side, "So it's unusual coming from you."

The elder only huffs. His hand leaves Minho back and the latter once again hates how easily he can get caught off guard with Chan.

Because he is supposed to be the one to make the other flustered with witts and flirts. Minho is supposed to swim in Chan's reactions, yet the latter's speechless not because of Minho, but because he is like that.

Minho has figured out, Chan doesn't talk a lot, in general. Except for texts, but that's how it's been up until now - no change in expression at Minho's bold flirting and aside from that their conversations are nothing but friendly talk: cat talk, work talk, halmonie talk. Minho would be getting annoyed but he just waited. Maybe it's their circumstances as they only get to meet a couple times a week; their interactions are mostly shopping for groceries, texting for the rest of the week and sometimes going out for a walk but even then both are too stressed from working.

For some weird reason despite Chan's unresponsiveness he didn't feel entirely detached; it felt like Chan was actually involved in whatever Minho tried pulling on him, studying him. Maybe Minho missed friendships but his intentions with Chan were more grand than that in the first place. So as Minho finally sees action from Chan, he feels weird, but he's definitely intrigued.

"Don't make me the bad guy. I thought that's what you wanted?"

Minho opens and closes his mouth, deciding on what to speak. He feels just a little too desperate admitting it, yet he never really hid the fact he's attracted to Chan.

"You're playing unfair."

The elder scoffs, tilting his head at Minho, "Not how you want, you mean?"

"Maybe. Since I've put most effort from the beginning, I think it's fair I get some reward."

"Like what?"

As Chan says it they both freeze in place. Chan makes sure to study Minho's face a little longer, then he gazes on the younger's lips that part right at that moment. Minho feels stupid and put on spot when Chan chuckles lowly at his reaction. No, Minho's not expecting Chan to kiss him in a smelly pet food aisle.

"Don't stress yourself. I'm a sex after marriage type of person," Minho wrinkles at that, "And I speak metaphors often."

Chan didn’t like when things went too fast. He isn’t cut out for brief things. He likes things that last, he likes the feeling of solid ground under his feet. He only misses his friends sometimes, but as his small town residence time goes on he learns to prefer it here. He gave up things that shook up his life in the city just enough for him to feel refreshed for the next patch of routine. Chan thought he'd miss all that, but now it is less stressful. He doesn't have to worry about being late, stuck in traffic, doesn't have to take crowded trains twice a day, doesn't have to feel drained from people's stupidity around him. Because it simply isn't there anymore. And he feels relieved. It took him long to get used to the change of speed though, he even felt like there was nothing to do some days. But then Minho came into his life.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” Chan heard the voice beside him ask nonchalantly.

Minho shrugged. "Just wanna know if that's your first time."

Chan barked out a laugh. "Don't flatter yourself," he bumped their shoulders together but the impact was heavier than he intended, as bags with groceries weighed down on Minho so he stumbled to the side. Minho came back pouting, "What's with the questioning?"

"Did you treat all of your lovers like you treat me?" Minho says daringly.

"What… What do you mean?"

Minho hummed, looking down at his feet. "Do you like when people chase you?"

Chan stopped in his tracks. Minho turned to him, shifting weight to one leg.

"Elaborate?" he says, trying to sound calm.

The younger licked at his lips, picking out better words. Minho might have not thought this through. He's trying to come up with a reason that is not rooted in his desire to have it go his own way; his desire to have Chan give into his quirks easier. But actually, this is all there is to it. Chan's stoic and it confuses him, it’s impossible to gauge Chan's reactions. So that makes Minho wonder, if that's what he needs to do - fight for Chan's attention?

Minho chuckles nervously, "It's not like I'm being insecure," he starts, finding it hard to look Chan into eyes as this entry sounds cringey even to his own ears, "But where are we going?"

He continues to avoid Chan's eyes. He lets out a loud sigh, wanting to take his words back. He's not even that concerned.

"That's funny, cause I was wondering the same," Chan's words capture Minho's attention.

"Oh," Chan doesn't say anything else, obviously, so Minho breaks the silence, "And?"

It's Chan's turn now to shrug. "I don't know. You tell me."

Minho blinks. Of course he's not opening up first.

"I like you, Chan," this time Minho accentuates it, looking the elder in his face, catching small changes in his expression, "I find you attractive. Hot. Pretty".

Chan doesn't respond yet, feeling his cheeks prickle with heat a little.

"I've told you this. I'm sure you've taken the clue," Minho takes a step forward. He feels a little nervous for some reason, something is swirling in his stomach, as if he is having indigestion issues. So unsexy, fuck, "And I know you like me too."

Nothing in Chan's expression tells he's disagreeing. Yet nothing is proving Minho right either, even though he knows it is the truth. And that's what makes him feel restless about Chan.

"What is there that you need me to do?" he gets close enough, now practically whispering these words in the space between them, "What do I have to do to at least earn a kiss from you?"

Chan doesn’t budge, keeping his gaze trained on Minho’s face. He can’t move, not because he’s trying to be bold, but because he feels petrified; he’s holding his breath because Minho is too close to him.

One thing Chan knows is that he’s feeling apologetic. He feels like an asshole. Looking back, now his ways seem childish to him.

He lets out a breathy sorry, finally feeling a knot in his throat loosening a little, just enough for him to take some breath in, but then he lifts his eyes back on Minho and suddenly it feels even worse.

Minho blinks at him. He’s confused by Chan’s state, never has he seen him so dazed, he doesn’t find blush on his cheeks cute - it’s rather embarrassing.

“I mean,” he tries, but then there’s a palm landing on his wrist. It’s tugging him down, forcing him to put the groceries down, to which Minho complies. Minho watches as Chan circles his hand around his own wrist, a thumb prodding further under his padded coat and sweater sleeves to press lightly at his pulse, “I.. You don’t have to… I’m not forcing you to do anything now.”

Chan shakes his head, huffing slightly, “Do you not want me to?”

“Just don’t make it weirder than it already is. And don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Chan opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but then slowly closes it, changing his mind. Instead he’s pulling Minho even closer, toes of their shoes bumping together so they spread it away, chuckling lightly together. When Minho lifts his head he realizes they’re really close.

“Woah, hi there,” he whispers in between them, caught off guard; steam falls on Chan’s face. In return, Chan reaches his hand to Minho’s face (when did he slip his glove off?). Something in Minho's head breaks, his brain stops working properly making him think dumb stuff, but he’s trying his best to keep his mouth shut while he has Chan right in front of him, looking so pretty upclose. He feels the elder’s gaze on his lips and so he licks them unconsciously.

“It’s cold,” Chan says, his eyes flicking back to look Minho in his eyes, “You’ll lie sick. Wanna go to my place?”

And as much as Chan seems to love giving Minho blue balls, the latter has to do his best to hold back the whine in his throat - whether it’s from the delayed momentum or excitement. His patience will be rewarded soon.

Minho stands in the hallway watching as the elder makes his way to put the grocery bags away in the kitchen. When Chan turns around he can see the hallway from where he stands. He makes a questioning noise with his high pitched tone, tilting his head to the side a little. He could swear Chan just had puppy ears grow out of his head.

"Everything alright?" Chan asks slowly, making his way back to Minho. He still has his shoes and coat on for some reason.

"Why didn't you take your shoes off?" Minho asks.

"Why didn't you?" Chan asks back.

"I just came in. And you rushed to get the bags to the kitchen," at this Chan has finally reached Minho. The elder scrunches his face, as Minho starts slipping off his own coat, "Weirdo."

He slips off his outerwear and stands straight before Minho. "Maybe I get weird when I'm nervous."

They've somehow ended up watching a movie. Even after all that attention span talk, indecision and failing to find common ground on favorite genres. Though now they didn't choose it this time, more so didn't choose it to fill their time with. Chan just clicked his TV on by habit to have a background noise. He disappeared in the kitchen to make hot chocolate then. Minho found that movie is actually a good distraction from the awkwardness.

"It's cozy here," he announced as Chan had delivered him a cup. Minho noted the proximity, too friendly, that Chan decided to land himself beside him, "Looks like an old lady's place."

Chan chuckled to himself. "The landlady is actually—"

"I know, every landlord here is an old lady," he said, cutting the elder off, "But I like how your manly vibe seeps through."

Chan can feel his ears turn red. Yeah, he should've probably taken out his impromptu empty beer bottle collection before having Minho over.

Minho smirks at him. "I said I like it."

"I got it."

"As well as this hot chocolate."

"Thank you. It's a family recipe."

"You'll have to teach me it."

"Alright."

Minho feels his heartbeat in his ears. He uses the moment as they lock gazes to put a hand on Chan's propped knee. He curls it around, moving closer.

"We should probably talk this through."

As much as Minho tries he can't contain a groan. "Hyung. We're not gonna have sex now."

"I didn't... Mean that," he sounds offended and embarrassed at the same time, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he finds it hard to say that, but apparently not impossible. His crush is too big, "Don't apologize for being dense."

Chan opens and closes his mouth immediately. He can't argue that point.

"Okay then, look. I don't mind the teasing you give me in response to my restlessness. I just wish I knew my stakes are to be fulfilled."

"And I have my stakes too," Chan says, changing his position towards Minho, "Perhaps I don't think you'd want me to be a bore talking about commitment before the first kiss."

"How do you sound like a conservative and a middle schooler at the same time?"

"I'm serious," Chan doesn't let the remark falter him, "I like you. But I'm not cut out for friends with benefits shit."

"Hmm," he says with a nod of his chin, "It's a small town where everyone knows my halmonie," Minho retorts, lowering his voice to half a whisper, "I can't afford a reputation of a slutty grandchild either."

"Do you think she'll be fine with you dating a man?"

"She knows I'm bi. She just doesn't think queer relationships can take place here. It's her way of caring for me."

Chan fixes Minho's hair out of his face and brings his fingers to his ear.

"It must be exhausting, not having much to choose from."

Minho licks his lips as Chan studies his face with his hand on his ear still.

"I have to thank capitalism for tiring you into internal migration."

Chan bites his lips as a smile stretches on his lips. "Yeah. Very romantic."

They giggle together. "Are you the romantic type?" Minho asks.

"If holding hands and going out to get to know you better hasn't shown it…"

"You just seemed indecisive. A little."

"Maybe I am. A lot."

Chan takes the moment of silence. His hand has moved to Minho's neck, thumb stroking Minho's jaw. The younger almost purrs.

"What are you thinking of now?"

How much I want to kiss you.

"Whether you'll dine me at your place. The restaurant," Chan says almost absent-mindedly, watching the way Minho's eyes lose focus on his face, "I could come in afterhours. Let you have me," he sees Minho wetting his lips, "As your VIP guest."

"I'd like that," he's leaned in so close, now feeling Chan's breath on himself.

Chan's head is buzzing. He can't nor does he want to hold out more, breaching the space between them. Minho responds instantly, eyes falling shut, lips molding with Chan's.

What Chan intended to be a soft kiss turned more ardent with Minho giving in closer. He puts his hand where Chan's shoulder and neck meet to seek more closure. He's waited for so long and he isn't playing shy now.

The more Minho explores his mouth, the more it riles Chan up. He puts his other hand on Minho's waist to turn them comfortably and presses on his hip bone. Minho reacts by placing both of his forearms on Chan's shoulders. The elder practically straddles Minho and their lips separate at the move with a smack. Minho chases after Chan, pulling him back. The elder hums in his throat in response.

Chan's so content. He regrets letting his indecision hold him back from being playful and kissing Minho earlier. Because it's so surprisingly nice that he can't contain his bodily impulse.

Once he feels shortness of breath coming up, he refocuses from Minho's lips slightly towards his neck, kissing his way through it thoroughly.

Minho braces his hands on Chan's neck first, moving then to his waist to have him sit on his lap. He huffs as Chan mouths harder on his jaw.

"Don't leave marks. Please," his tone is imploring, almost embarrassing to his ears.

Chan just hums, making Minho's neck vibrate. The latter lays his head back for Chan to have more place to explore.

He starts at the base of his neck, pecking it more lightly but at the same time making Minho tickle a little. He huffs in response with fingers squeezing at the elder's waist.

Reaching Minho's jaw base, Chan puts up his forearm for support to place distance between them. Everything about Minho in this moment is almost ethereal. His lips, slightly parted, glimmer with coral pink and spit, his eyes half open with pupils blown wide to look like black shiny orbits. Chan's sure he looks no less unbothered. He leans in for the last peck on the lips, giggling afterwards. Minho follows suit.

"Wow," he says softly.

"Not bad for a first kiss."

"Definitely not bad."

They spend some more time together then, talking about the movie they actually watch, kissing, talking about Chan's job, kissing some more, finishing their lukewarm drinks, kissing again. Chan doesn't think he's ever craved kisses as much.

He kisses Minho on the porch too while bidding him farewell.

"I have to go," he's pressed into the wall, "Cook dinner and," Chan presses in more, causing Minho to yelp into his mouth, "Sleep."

"Right," Chan says, still continuing, "I'm getting hungry too."

"I can tell," he refers to another thing but Chan is too busy clutching on Minho's sweater, not pulling it much because he actually needs to let him go. At some point. Now.

Minho finds the strength to pull away. He exhales and let's his hands slip off of Chan's figure. Chan takes a step back, allowing him to zip up.

"I'll text you when I'm home," he says, shyly pocketing his hands for grounding.

"Sure," he takes a step ahead to open the door for him. Minho steps in front of him, "Have a good night."

Minho smiles at Chan. He looks modest now, and so so cute. He pecks him for the last time and quickly runs out.

Chan stands watching him. He waves awkwardly as Minho looks back. Minho breaks into a wide smile and waves back. Chan bites his lip. He can't even feel stupid for how good today turned out.

Chan finds his mind to be occupied with one thing for the entire week. Lee Minho.

His head feels so light ever since their first prolonged session of kissing. He guesses, it released stress from his system he didn't know he had. Really, his work flow is smoother, his concentration is better than ever too.

Disregarding the cat mischievous emoji recently added to Minho's contact name, their chat didn't change at all. And Chan is relieved. As much as he feels like a fool himself, he doesn't think he'd handle lovey-dovey stuff, including cliché good morning/good night/have a nice day baby stuff.

Chan enjoys Minho's arrays of text that hold close to zero meaning. He enjoys being updated on Soonie, Doongie and Dori every 3 business days too. Of all, he's glad they still arrange usual plans, including meeting in the supermarket.

"Do you think the guys will like a shrimp flavored treat?"

"Who?"

"My cats, of course," Minho says, holding up a pack of soft paw shaped treats, "What if I haven't spoiled them enough yet and they're picky eaters who only eat meat flavored food?"

"I think you're contradicting yourself. As long as you don't feed them actual meat or seafood they'll remain modest."

"Also true," he agrees, "Just haven't seen this treat before. Wonder if it's good."

"It's cute," Chan says, looking closer. It's more detailed than he initially noticed - there's even pink coloured beans, "Just grab one pack for a test."

Minho complies, placing the treat in their shared cart. "Who knew picking cat food could be so difficult."

Chan chuckles to that and pushes the cart ahead.

"Where do you want to go? Afterwards."

Minho sizes up the cart. There's barely anything Chan's picked for himself - he's mostly stocked for the weekdays. Minho's picks make it look like mouse hung itself in his fridge.

"Probably have to get this home first," he says on an exhale. Chan noted how worn Minho looked.

"I'll drive you up," he says, "Are you feeling alright?"

He comes closer, making Minho's gaze regain focus. "Just tired. Busy day."

Chan pouts slightly and hooks up his pinky with Minho's.

"You should rest," Chan is almost reluctant to say it. He doesn't want to look clingy or act like Minho owes him leisure time, "We can meet another time."

"Hyung," Minho's tone is sad, "I need a distraction to rest."

Chan raises his brows at that. Oh.

"What do you want to do?"

Minho turns his wrist to fit into Chan's hand. "Come to mine with me?"

Chan feels like an intruder. He's a little on the edge from the fact that Minho hasn't mentioned if his halmonie was home. Something tells him, if he had been to Minho's earlier, he'd have been informed on it first thing. With a sway of Minho's brows, of course. Now that they're… dating, perhaps officially, Chan isn't sure what to expect or how to act, in case Minho's grandmother is home.

He feels stupid asking now, especially as they're unloading groceries and are heading towards the entrance. But what comes to Chan's mind doesn't seem foolish.

He calls the younger out as he fumbles with his keys. Minho looks at him expectantly. The elder just moves into his space to place a kiss on his lips.

It surprises Minho. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just realized I haven't kissed you today yet."

Minho frowns with a small smile. "Weirdo. Couldn't have waited til we're inside?"

Is Minho willing to be affectionate in front of his halmonie? Or is she just not home?

What is so difficult about asking? Now he doesn't have time for that as they come inside.

Chan takes a quick glance around the house that is definitely much cozier than his own place.

Chan's reaction is halfway from his brain to his mouth, but it gets cut off as he feels
something leaning to his left leg. He looks down and sees an blob of orange fur.

Chan yelps in excitement, falling down to the floor in a cross-legged position. He instantly recognizes the cat as Soonie, “Hi, kitty!”

Chan strokes Soonie from head to the base of his tail in quick motions, which makes the cat work his head up faster as he leans into the touch.

He hears Minho scoff above him. “You are actually in it for the cats.”

Chan coos, looking between Minho and Soonie. “We’ve finally met, Soonie! Look how cute you are.”

Minho turns on his heels towards where the kitchen is to put his bags away. He can’t help a smile on his face so he decides not to show it to Chan yet.

Dori finds him in the kitchen, approaching in the same way as Soonie did with Chan.

“Hi, Dori. Are you guys hungry?”

A high-pitched coo is heard from the hallway. Minho should probably check on Soonie soon.

Dori doesn’t reply, instead he jumps up a stool that stands closest to the counter. He won’t go further - Minho has shed blood, sweat and tears training them not to. Not literally, but it was long 3 weeks of restraining himself from letting his frustration out on the pets.

He pulls out the new shrimp treat and studies it one more time before tearing the pack open.

Dori leans closer at the sound, his ears perk up too. Good sign?

Minho places the paw shaped treat on his hand, luckily it’s not smelly. Dori doesn’t take too long inspecting it, pawing it to himself and licking it off Minho’s hand at once. Minho watches the cat chew and lick before he’s met with an expectant look that is pleading for more. Success.

Minho murmurs a promise for more treats, scratching Dori behind his ear. He leaves the room, hearing black fur ball drop down on his fours and skip in another direction.

“Clearly your petting habits are adopted from handling dogs.”

Chan looks up with his hand frozen mid air above Soonie’s head. The cat paws at it gently, asking to continue.

He giggles and admits it. “I have a dog at home in Australia.”

Minho raises his brows in light surprise. He strolls up to where Chan and Soonie sit beside each other. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I don’t have recent pictures. Didn’t think it’d be fun if I shared old ones to your weekly new ones,” he shakes his head, laying his palm on Soonie’s back - the way one would do with a dog. The cat clearly dislikes the lack of movement and the weight of the hand on his body. Soonie wiggles and rubs his cold nose on Chan’s forearm, “The last one is from three years ago.”

Minho pouts and watches Soonie fall on his side, exposing his belly, much to Chan's excitement. “Show me.”

Chan hesitates, his face scrunches up slightly but he still fetches his phone from his jacket, that he still hasn’t taken off.

“Uh… Warning, I look different here.”

Chan gives Minho his phone. In the picture Chan sits in the same way as now with the dog in his lap. It’s a small dog with white and caramel frizzy fur; its ears are hung down, rather than perked up on the head.

But as Minho is quick to register it, his eyes catch Chan’s milky white hair, just as frizzy as the dog’s.

“You’re blond. Wow,” he says, laughing.

“Yeah,” he prolongs, “Had a phase.”

“What’s it’s name?”

“Berry,” Chan takes his phone from Minho’s hands, “She’s a girl.”

“She’s cute,” Minho murmurs, “Why didn’t you bring her here?”

At this point Chan calms down with his petting of Soonie, though the cat stays lying on his back, watching them.

“She just has it better living with family. And I don’t want to rid them of her. Though I think she might’ve forgotten me already,” he chuckles lowly.

Minho nudges Chan’s nose lightly, taking him by surprise. “I hope you’ll see her soon.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Chan realizes how distracted he got with Soonie. A quick review suggests he’s been a little too loud fawning over the pet. Yet it doesn’t seem like Minho’s grandmother is to appear from one of the door frames.

“Where’s halmonie?” he asks finally.

“Out. Meeting with friends.” Minho replies and leans back on his hands. His body reminds him of how tired it is and, perhaps, sitting on the floor isn’t the comfiest but he takes it because he still has to have Chan move on from Soonie, “She’ll be home by 7. Wanna stay for dinner?”

Chan feels his cheeks heating up. Oh.

“Is it okay? Sure,” he tries to contain surprise in his voice.

“Of course. She’s been asking about you,” he says, smiling to himself.

“Is that so?”

“Uh huh. She’s curious whether you’re going to take your outwear off today.”

Chan quirks a brow at him. “Hey!” it gets a laugh out of Minho. Chan shifts to take it off.

He walks back as Minho stretches his hand. “Help me up now.”

They move to the living room where it's comfier for Minho to rest.

"Hey," Chan calls out to Minho in English. The latter is met with a kiss on his lips.

"Hi," Minho replies and dives back. He feels Chan's hand on his cheek so he curls his hand around his forearm, "Don't plan to fool around when grandma's here."

"I wasn't going to. But now we're alone."

Well, except for the cats and specifically Doongie who is watching them from behind Chan. He's not as active as usual, just strolling around instead of hopping. Probably has as much energy as Minho now.

Minho doesn't pay mind to him, focusing on the way Chan kisses him softly.

Minho hasn't brought any of his romantic partners in. Because for him that meant inviting them into his safest space that he shares with his beloved cats and halmonie. Nor has he met others' family, even as he's been to their places. He guesses they didn't click as well or lasted long enough for that.

Or is crucial. He is surprised how easy it was for him to invite Chan, considering they've known each other for a little less than two months. Perhaps with how much they've delayed romantic interaction, Minho doesn't think they're rushing things now.

Besides, he doesn't make a big deal of introducing Chan to his halmonie now because it was an impulsive decision. Impulsive, yet confident.

Minho nips at Chan's bottom lip as his hands pull the elder by the neck to make them lie. He is down for a lazy make-out.

As less as Chan can touch him, having to support his weight above him, Minho takes all the advantage on his side. His hands roam Chan's back as his mouth stretches wider into Chan's. The elder lets out a low hum as Minho grips him tighter, trying to pull him closer. Chan relaxes his lower body, laying it down. It allows him to shift weight to his right elbow and put his left hand behind Minho's neck. Chan's tongue enters Minho's mouth as Minho clutches Chan at sides. Uncareful jerk of the latter's hips makes Minho's mouth open agape.

"Sorry," Chan says, separating with a smack of their lips.

Minho's dazed. "It's fine," he says, giving Chan no time to regret and chases him back.

Chan wonders if it's really okay at this point. Especially while they're on a living room couch, with clocks ticking closer to dinner time that still has to be cooked.

Minho's hips buck up this time and that sends a light shock to his body and head. Sure, they're both in the mood. Yet can he afford that now?

Minho grunts, his brows knitting together on his face. Chan watches him with his elbows and one knee propped.

"Hold on. I'm considering how sleepy I could get."

Chan chuckles at him, pressing on his forehead to clear it from wrinkles. "We should just go cook. Hour and a half left," he doesn't move to stand up, feeling too comfortable yet before he could hear Minho agree, "You're really low on energy. I'll probably leave right after dining, so you can rest."

Minho looks at him and sighs with his chest rising, "We're so old, Channie."

Chan barks out a laugh and sits up on his legs, "Old and tired."

The prepping process takes them about 20 minutes with Minho distributing products between them. They cook in a comfortable silence, listening to Chan's playlist. The songs are upbeat and nice but Minho doesn't recognize any.

Chan bumps Minho's arm as he comes to gather cut mushrooms and Minho bumps Chan's hip on purpose as they stand side by side while the elder shreds cheese. He bounces back with the same force as Minho spreads chicken pieces and mushrooms on a pan. The latter huffs with his nose in laughter.

As he places the creamed and cheesed dish into an oven and rises back up he sees Chan looking at him with wonder.

"Are we dating?"

It's Minho's turn to wear a questionable expression. "I guess so."

"What do you define us as?"

"Bang Chan, are you being insecure?" Minho teases and gets bumped again.

"Just curious what you're gonna tell your grandma."

"Like what am I going to introduce you as?" he asks softly and hums, "A plumber, probably."

Chan titters shortly, shaking his head. Hearing how relaxed Minho seems to be, he decides to let go of his worries too, "Okay."

Then Minho brings cocoa powder and pieces a dark chocolate bar. "Show me how you make your hot chocolate?"

"Sure," Chan replies, taken off guard slightly, "Set the saucepan."

Minho complies.

"You want it the way I made it or richer?"

"Sweeter, instead," Minho replies, placing sugar down from a cabinet before him.

Chan smiles unconsciously. He hears Coldplay's Sparks starting in the background.

"That's a good song."

"Mellow. Is it sad?" He hasn't heard it but he likes it.

"Not really. Just nice."

Minho hovers his hand above the warming milk and looks for Chan's instructions.

"Start with cocoa and sugar."

Chan feels the sweet taste on Minho's lips. He sits on a stool as Minho stands before him with a cup in each hand. It's not quite comfortable but Chan can't be blamed because Minho was the one to initiate the exchange.

"It's good," he concludes, licking his lips. Minho gives him his cup and nips on his own again.

"Halmonie will love it."

Speaking of… They hear the front door open and shut. Minho makes an oh sound and rushes to the entrance.

As much as Chan wants to come off as collected, his abrupt exhale gives away his nervousness. At this point he realizes Minho's the second partner that introduces him to his family. Though the first time was in college and basically it happened by accident - one time he ran into his 2 week boyfriend's dad while they were out on a Sunday. His boyfriend wasn't completely out at the time so the urge to let go of Chan's hand and bring a friendly distance between them was a natural reaction. At the time he felt hurt, even if he knew the fear of misunderstanding, especially during college when neither of them could find a stable job or afford to live independently on their income.

Now it is different. He is more mature and Minho is confident, even if it would take time for halmonie to admit it is possible to be in a gay relationship outside of big cities.

Chan steps forward into the hall and sees Minho with his halmonie. She isn't much shorter than her grandson; dressed in winter wear, she might be even smaller. But she looks energetic despite her age. Chan announces his presence as he greets her.

She looks at him weirdly. Something in her eyes is Minho-like, but more intimidating.

"Meet Channie-hyung," Minho says, pulling him by his hand and interlacing their hands, "My boyfriend."

Minho's grandmother looks between them for a moment, then her face stretches in a smile. A smile that is so teasing and so alike with Minho's, Chan's body reacts by squeezing Minho's hand.

"I was wondering when you'd let me see the reason why you're absent at home constantly."

Minho's gaze drops to the floor in shyness. Chan titters between them, letting go of his hold to put his arm around Minho's waist. That somehow makes Minho feel even more flustered.

They spend the evening nicely, Chan gets to tell his full autobiography, even mentioning stuff he left Minho out of (to be fair, he just didn't ask about certain things). Halmonie does give Chan an impression of a brilliant person, which almost makes him nervous, but her invested tone and face expressions are what assures him she's serious about getting to know him for her grandson's good.

Chan can't blame her for the interviewing - Minho had two months to ask Chan anything, it's fair for halmonie to have her crash course too.

They let her wander to the living room - she excuses herself with a TV show starting. Minho is adamant on doing all of the cleaning, only accepting Chan's help to store leftovers. The elder decides to apply creativity - he steps up from behind, putting his arms around Minho's middle and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"You're thrown from one extreme to another," he says with a shaky laugh in his voice.

"I'm still on the helping extreme. I'll weigh you down until you let me help."

"You're ridiculous."

Chan starts working his jaw up and down to press on Minho's shoulder, making him hiss and cuss under his breath. Chan in turn cackles loudly, shaking Minho with himself.

"You're much more affectionate now than you were at first," Minho says, swaying their hips playfully.

"Maybe if you hadn't approached me in a stalker fashion I would've warmed up earlier."

"Can you say it was stalker behavior if you also watched me?" Chan hums questionably, "You're not that slick, I could feel the staring from behind for weeks."

Chan clicks his tongue. He didn't stare, his gaze just strayed and froze at Minho specifically every time he saw him.

"That still doesn't deny how weird your introduction lines were."

"The first time I made you pay together? Oh I was just bored and surprised to see you in line with me."

"Does that mean you wouldn't have approached me otherwise?"

"I really wanted to advise you to stop buying that milk actually," he receives a massive pinch on his side, which almost makes him cry out loudly, "You're a big baby, stop!"

"I'm serious," Chan says, pouting.

Minho shuts off the faucet and dries his hands on his shirt before turning to face the elder. "I could ask you the same."

"That is definitely not fair. You're local and I was the new face in the crowd. On my side, I couldn't have known for sure you weren't weird. I haven't lived here for long enough to know people's mentality"

"You called me weird numerous times."

"You know what I mean."

Minho shakes his head and puts his palm over Chan's mouth. "That's one thing. For two, was I not an outstanding face in the crowd for you too?"

Chan sighs, hanging his head. Minho continues, "You seem to be looking for a conflict. An hour after I first called you my boyfriend."

"No-no-no," he retorts, laughing, "I'm kidding."

He captures Minho's lips in a kiss then, which Minho responds to as a moment passes by. Yet he is also quick to break it up.

"Get off. Let me finish up. And," he rolls his eyes theatrically, "If you so want to help, you can load clean dishes up in the cabinet."

Chan lets out a high sound of compliance and does as he's told.

He gets to have Minho to himself for the last time tonight as he is saying goodbye. In their current fashion of course.

"God," Minho inserts in between kisses, "Why do you have to be indecent on my house's porch too."

Chan isn't too big on PDA, but he can handle it on an empty street at 9pm.

"If you don't like it, just stop it," he says smirking into the kiss, "I'm all about mutually consenting relationships."

Minho grunts back in response, not stopping with clutching on Chan's collar. "Be cute at least. Maybe I'll appreciate being kept on my toes for some attention now too."

"Hmm, I'll consider that," Chan says off-handedly, holding Minho by his ribcage.

Chan promised himself to make his goodbye quick because he feels like he's overstayed his visit. It also seems impolite before Minho's halmonie to fuss around at the entrance. And it's cold, he can't put Minho in danger of getting sick just because they give into the cliché phase of their relationship.

Minho, as always, is the one to put an end to things, much to his unwillingness. The contrast of their relationship dynamic at the start and now is drastic.

"Goodbye, boyfriend," Minho says with a serious face, avoiding looking at Chan, "We both have work tomorrow. Gotta stop playing teenagers in love."

"Aw," Chan coos, "Look how responsible we are. Should I call you hyung instead? Boyfriend."

Minho scoffs at how ridiculous they sound.

"Your homework is to come up with a pet name for me," Minho says as a yawn draws out of him, "Present alternatives too. I'll choose the good one."

"No, you don't get to choose a pet name for yourself," Minho quirks an eyebrow at that, "Because I already have one for you. Kitten."

Something warm spreads in Minho's tummy. He blinks rapidly in surprise - he likes it, so much that he doesn't want to admit it to Chan.

He gives two long nods, "Okay… Let me know if you come up with anything else."

Chan laughs at how unconvincing Minho sounds, but he doesn't say anything. He leans in for the last time to peck his warm cheek, just beneath his eye. The move makes Minho melt. Chan is too quick to fulfill his wishes - it makes it harder, yet no less fun for him to think of ways to sweep Chan off his feet.