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The marriage jokes have started pretty much as soon as they made the announcement to their friends. Changbin can’t blame them — two long-time bachelors telling everyone they bought a flat together is as good as a wedding announcement, and he’s always down for some good-natured ribbing, even at his own expense.
Besides, all of them know him and Minho aren’t together like that — it was more of a marriage of convenience and circumstance than anything. Minho needs someone to take care of his cats when his crew is performing overseas and Changbin needs — well, Changbin needs someone to make sure he doesn’t get food poisoning from undercooked chicken breast again. They’d both been apartment hunting for a while, both found the place nearly perfect, both are at a point in their career where they can afford to buy a flat and at a point in their career where they aren’t looking for a long-term partner to share it with.
Unpacking the boxes they’ve spent the bigger part of the day hauling out of the moving truck, Changbin still can’t help but think about it anyway. Maybe it’s the setting sun casting the sparsely furnished walls and piles of cardboard into a soft orange glow, maybe it’s the sight of Minho whipping up a quick dinner from the few groceries they bought in the morning, freshly rinsed utensils piled up on the countertop and waiting to find a proper place — for a brief moment, the world splits and his mind conjures a mirror image of it, just like this, except closer, Minho smiling softly at him, because they’re together, Minho grabbing his butt except it’s different because he’s doing it because he loves him.
He blinks the vision away as soon as it appears, startles himself back into reality with a shake of his head. Him and Minho aren’t together like that, marriage jokes notwithstanding.
—
It should be weird how fast they slip into a comfortable routine. It doesn’t feel weird to Changbin, and probably does make some logical sense considering their personalities, but it still feels like it should be.
Minho prepares two sets of lunchboxes for them on the mornings his schedule allows him to and Changbin dutifully feeds the cats on time on the days Minho comes home late. They have dinner together in comfortable silence on the days their schedules align, Minho cooking and Changbin doing the dishes after. They go grocery shopping together when they can, Minho insisting on Changbin carrying the heavy bags all the way home just to shoo him away and let him rest while he deals with unpacking them. They split their chores evenly, even if after the more exhausting work weeks Changbin always finds himself coming home to a spotless apartment, Minho wordlessly lounging on the sofa with his feet up.
They spend a lot of free time together, one way or another, and it always feels comfortable, even if it’s Changbin working out in the little home gym he’s set up in the living room while Minho watches something on the TV despite having one in his own room. They never fight, even if they do bicker over inconsequential things often. All in all, Changbin’s home life has never been better, even though he’s loved living with his family and enjoyed sharing a house with Chan and Jisung before they decided to each get their own place since they spend most of their time together at the studio anyway.
It feels like their friendship has deepened a lot by sharing a living space – Changbin gets to see Minho be sleepy and relaxed in a way he hasn’t really been privy to before, which makes Changbin comfortable with letting himself relax as well, letting Minho know when he’s feeling sad or upset and being treated with sympathy and a shoulder to cry on. A shoulder to lean on too, sometimes, when they’re both tired and a little wine drunk and sitting on the couch next to each other while watching rom-coms to wind down.
Really, Changbin couldn’t ask for more.
Except-
The jokes about the two of them dating never stop, even if they do mellow out and settle into a running inside joke. He plays along with them, sometimes, chuckles to himself when Minho plays along as well, takes his hand and twines their fingers together when they walk somewhere with the others, smiles when Minho puckers his lips at him whenever Jisung calls them a couple. It’s innocuous, nothing more daring than what they do with everyone else or when they’re just hanging out at home, but it still makes a pit of… something settle in the middle of his throat, making the whole world feel ever so slightly off-kilter. It’s never enough to make him want to stop, but just enough to keep digging at the back of Changbin’s mind whenever there is a lull in conversation, whenever he has time to stop and think on it.
Maybe it’s the farce of it — Changbin’s never liked deception, and acting like what they already have between each other is something that it isn’t feels false in a way he can’t describe. Maybe the joke falls a little flat with so little exaggeration involved. He tries not to dwell on it, but the feeling never really goes away.
—
It was Minho’s idea.
Changbin’s never lied to his parents, not since he was five. He never really wanted or needed to lie to them anyway.
When he idly complained to Minho about his mom nagging him on when he’s going to get a boyfriend and settle for the milionth time, he didn’t expect Minho to reply, not a beat later, with ‘Tell her we’re dating then, Changbin-ah. We already got the settled part down.’
This technically means that Changbin isn’t at fault when he actually goes through with it — it must have been the outrageousness of the idea of lying to his own mother that made his brain fizz out the next time she asked over the phone and actually blurt the words out loud. Even if the guilt of the act sat heavy on his shoulders, he had figured a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially if it got his mom off his back about dating. Minho laughing and patting his head when Changbin told him had lulled him into a false sense of security.
Now, with a surprise dinnertime family visit to their flat sixty minutes away from arriving, blaming Minho takes the backseat to sheer panic at the prospect of his lie being exposed. There's only two things for him to do – beg for help and/or beg for forgiveness.
"Hyung, what am I going to do? " he whines helplessly into his hands after informing Minho of their predicament.
To his surprise, he isn’t met with the amused snicker Minho usually gives him whenever Changbin gets into trouble. When he looks up, Minho is looking at him, silent in contemplation.
“Hm. You could come clean about lying. Or,” Minho says slowly, pausing at the whine he gets him – more likely for the drama than for anything – “Or, we act like we’re actually dating. We’ve had time to practice.”
It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense, but Changbin’s too desperate to argue. “Okay. Okay - what do we do?”
That gets him a snicker. “Don’t worry about it, honey. Just go set the table and relax and let hyung take care of the rest of it, alright?”
He’s about to ask what Minho means when Minho stands up, ruffles his hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. He saunters off into the kitchen before Changbin has time to blink away the sudden fluttering feeling in his chest.
To distract himself, he does go to set the table for everyone, internally thanking his luck of having too many friends who regularly come over to own enough cutlery for all of them. Being unofficially banned from the kitchen whenever Minho’s cooking, he settles for cleaning up the rest of the flat as much as he can, vacuuming cat hair off the sofa and straightening the cushions five times in a row.
After what feels like forever, Minho emerges from the kitchen, smiling. Strangely enough, it feels reassuring to have him by his side for this, even if it's making things a little harder to hide. Minho grabs his hand and doesn't let go until the doorbell rings.
His nervousness nearly dissipates when he sees his family. Even if he goes to visit them almost every week, he's still missed them — he hugs his mom and prods back at a joking remark from his sister, greets his dad with a smile. They already know Minho so there's no need for introductions, which is a small mercy. The smile his mother gives Minho in greeting is much warmer than usual.
Minho takes his hand again during the obligatory tour around the flat — it's not much and definitely not as nice as his parent's house, but Changbin feels kind of proud of how homely they'd made it feel. By the time he shows them his bedroom, he feels completely at ease, Minho's hand warm and solid in his.
"You sleep in separate bedrooms?" his mom asks, making Changbin freeze up. Minho squeezes his hand.
"I kick and talk in my sleep often. It's a good measure for when both Binnie and I need a good night's rest. If we don't, well… Changbinnie's bed is big enough for the both of us." Minho replies smoothly, smiling and leaning into Changbin's space. Making him freeze up for a completely different reason.
His sister giggles and jabs him in the side. He grunts at her.
The conversation flows naturally after, Minho mostly keeping quiet, but seamlessly jumping in whenever needed. Changbin's mom compliments Minho's cooking and Changbin grins at the way his ears go red as he accepts the compliment. Minho talks about their cats and promises to try to lure at least one of them out from their nap spot at the top of the cat tree for his sister to take pictures of. Changbin gets his own turn of blushing when Minho compliments his mom on how well she's raised him. Sometime during the meal, Minho tangles his leg with Changbin’s under the table and doesn’t untangle them until they’re standing up to put the dishes away.
It’s only once they’re sitting on the sofa after dinner while his sister plays with a succesfully coaxed out Dori that Changbin realizes neither he or Minho technically lied at any point of their visit. That none of the touches they shared felt out of the ordinary. He suddenly becomes keenly aware of the pit inside his throat again, this time feeling two times as large.
“Ah, I just have one more question I’ve wanted to ask, forgive me for the nosiness,” his mom says once his sister’s returned from Minho’s bedroom with clear intention to leave, phone sufficiently full of cat pictures. “Minho, you’ve been friends with our Changbin for a long time, right? When did you realize you fell in love?”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Changbin can see Minho’s ears starting to go red. He squeezes his hand.
“Mooooom!” he tries to divert attention — even if Minho promised to handle it, he doesn’t want to put him on the spot like that. They don’t even have their fake dating story straight yet, so maybe if he acts like it’s embarrassing enough, she’ll let it go.
Minho squeezes his hand right back, then relaxes his hold completely.
“Um. It wasn’t actually until after we moved in together.” Minho’s voice is small, even softer than usual. If Changbin hasn’t spent so much time with him, he wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in it. “It happened so gradually, I’m not certain of exactly when I realized. He makes it really hard not to fall for him, you know? I think I might have been a little bit in love with him for a long time.”
Changbin has heard Minho lie many times, effortlessly and badly. He doesn’t sound like he’s lying now. Which can only mean that–
The pit inside his throat dislodges itself and falls, shatters and explodes into little fireworks sparkling throughout his chest. He can barely pay attention to his mom’s reply, looks away when she looks at him with a fond, knowing smile.
Changbin doesn’t let go of Minho’s hand when his family says goodbye, promising to give more of a heads up next time, making Changbin promise to visit next week. He doesn’t let go even after the door clicks shut, squeezing it so tightly it must hurt.
“Hyung.” he breathes out after they’ve been silently standing in the hallway for what must have been ages. “Hyung, you–”
“It’s okay, Changbinnie.” Minho’s voice isn’t shaky anymore, steady and soft and so full of love Changbin wasn’t able to see until he realized it was possible for it to be there. “You don’t have to say anything. Not unless you want to.”
“Can I just kiss you instead?” he must be blushing, but Minho is too, so it’s okay. Minho’s hand feels warm in his, still holding on.
When Minho leans in and their lips press together, the world splits and realigns itself again, and feels exactly right.