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Minho woke up to the comforting weight of an arm draped over his waist, a gentle purr next to his ear, and the inner certainty that it wasn't quite time to get out of bed. He was naturally an early riser, and it wasn't uncommon for him to wake up before his alarm went off. But this morning was a special one, and Minho was in no rush to start moving. So he kept his eyes shut and just breathed into this moment of closeness, doing his best not to move in any way that would betray that he was actually awake to his hungry cats.
Behind him, Chan sighed and then shifted a little closer. Unfortunately, the cats took that as their cue to start their campaign for an early breakfast. A polite paw tapped Minho’s cheek, gently at first, then with a hint of claws. Probably Doongie. Another cat decided to use Minho’s thighs as a trampoline as he bounced across the bed. Definitely Dori. Chan smothered a laugh against the nape of Minho’s neck. Good thing he thought it was amusing, as he was probably going to have to get used to it. The final straw was when Soonie’s purrs turned into demanding meows, quickly echoed by his brothers.
So much for sleeping in.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Minho murmured as he slid out from under Chan’s arm. He squinted at his phone as he shoved his feet into his house slippers. 6:07 am. “Come on, you hungry monsters,” he whispered to the cats. None of them heard him. They’d already run toward their food bowls the moment he’d sat up.
He didn’t bother to turn on any lights as he made his way to the kitchen. It was pretty normal for him to go through his morning routine half-asleep and in the dark, even with three cats doing their best to convince him that they hadn’t eaten in a week. Once the food was down and the only sound was the satisfied smack of the cats’ noshing, Minho shuffled back to the bedroom, where he kicked off his slippers again and crawled back under the covers. Chan immediately pulled him close again.
“Good morning, baby.” Mumbled into Minho’s hair, as if they’d woken up together a hundred times, not just once.
Minho closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable again. “Not ready for morning, check back in a couple hours.”
“If you insist. But I’m still going to be the first to tell you happy birthday.”
At least it was dark enough in the bedroom that no one could see Minho’s besotted smile. He buried his face in his pillow and let himself drift off again.
Minho had just about managed to fall back asleep again when his daily 6:15 alarm began to shriek. He cursed and stabbed at his phone until it was silent again.
Beside him, Chan giggled but wisely didn’t comment.
🎁
When Minho woke up for the second time, he was alone under his comforter, abandoned by his cats and his sexy date. Morning light was filtering through the bedroom curtains. He stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of what he’d done the night before. Then he figured out where his slippers had ended up, pulled on one of the hoodies that he’d stolen from Chan, and went in search of his boys.
Doongie and Dori were napping together on the living room sofa, a yin-yang of brown, orange, and white. Soonie was supervising Chan’s cooking from the kitchen counter. Minho also allowed himself a moment to enjoy the view, taking in the pajamas hanging low on Chan’s hips, the curve of Chan’s ass, and the pink marks that he’d left on Chan’s neck. Chan wasn’t even wearing a shirt, just had all his delicious muscles out for everyone to see.
Minho draped himself over Chan’s bare shoulders and peered into the pot that Chan was stirring on the stove. “Is that miyeok-guk?”
Chan startled at the unexpected contact, but recovered quickly, turning so he could kiss Minho lavishly. Well, at least one of them had brushed their teeth, even if it wasn’t Minho. They made out lazily, hands sneaking under clothing, until the soup nearly bubbled over, and Chan had to return his attention to their breakfast again.
“It smells good,” Minho said, when disaster had been averted. “Is that what you smuggled inside last night?”
Chan had put a brown paper bag in the refrigerator when he arrived the previous evening, and he’d tried to make Minho promise not to open it. Minho hadn’t made any promises, but he’d been sufficiently distracted by other activities that he’d forgotten to snoop. He’d supposed it was some sort of birthday treat. Maybe cake. He hadn’t been that far off.
“The internet promised me the recipe wasn’t hard.” A cute pout, suggesting Minho had missed some struggles while he was sleeping. “Probably not as good as what you’d make but you can’t make your own birthday miyeok-guk.”
“It’s perfect,” Minho said, because he didn’t have to taste it to appreciate the sentiment. So are you, he wanted to add, though he managed to bite that comment back. Too much, too soon. He slipped away from Chan’s shameless hands to start the coffee machine. It added its hisses to the familiar sputter of the rice cooker near the end of its cycle and the bubbling soup on the stove. Minho pulled his favorite cat mug out of the cabinet—the same one he’d once offered Chan—and waited for the carafe to fill.
It promised to be a very good birthday.
🎁
Chan insisted on setting the table himself—a bowl of steaming soup in front of Minho, rice to the left, spoon and chopsticks to the right, a row of banchan in their identical glasslock containers. Someone had taught Chan how to do that properly at some point, which Minho appreciated even if he didn’t really expect other people to know.
“Do you have to work today?” Chan asked as he finally sat down with his own soup and rice across from Minho.
“Took the day off. I have so much PTO banked, I’m not going to waste my birthday sitting through Zoom meetings. What about you?”
“Nothing scheduled until the afternoon, so my morning’s yours.” A foot poking his own under the table, plus a very coy look. Which was ridiculous given how assuredly Chan had fucked his brains out last night, but Minho was beginning to understand that was probably just how Chan rolled. “Perk of being my own boss.”
Minho realized that Chan was waiting for him to eat first. He dipped his spoon in the soup, tasted it, and let himself savor the familiar flavors of beef and the sea. “It’s really good,” Minho told Chan, and he was only exaggerating a little. Perhaps not at all, once he factored in the pleasure of his company. His boyfriend? His lover? They hadn’t negotiated the label yet. Maybe just his Chan. Who looked enormously pleased with himself on the other side of his table as he watched Minho eat.
They were still finishing breakfast when Jisung texted to confirm that their evening plans were still on.
Should we increase the reservation? Is Chan coming?
Minho wasn’t sure. He hadn’t even met Chan when Jisung and Seungmin had organized this particular dinner.. It was a little awkward to have something as personal as a birthday so early in getting to know each other. Still, there was nothing to do about it but ask. “Some friends are taking me out for a birthday dinner tonight. Thai. Do you want to come? It’s okay if you don’t. I wouldn’t normally inflict them on you so soon.”
“I’m up for dinner with your gremlins, if you don’t mind me there.” Chan beamed. “Felix already got to meet you, so he’s got one up on Jisung. Might as well make things fair.”
“I’m regretting this already,” Minho joked, but he texted Jisung that Chan would be there. “I disavow all responsibility for anything embarrassing they say or do.”
“At least it probably won’t end up on TikTok.”
When they had finished eating and cleared the table, Chan pinned Minho against one of the kitchen counters and said, “I also have a birthday present for you.”
Minho put on his best fake shocked face. “The soup wasn’t a present? Or the orgasms?”
“If those count, I have multiple presents for you.” Chan tugged playfully on the zipper of Minho’s hoodie, revealing the marks he’d left on Minho’s collarbones. He stroked one lightly, and Minho shivered. Maybe he should have been embarrassed at how needy he was for Chan already, but Minho just wanted. At this rate, they were going to forget about birthday presents and just go back to destroying each other. “First I thought about getting GPS collars for your cats, but then I remembered they were little nudists who didn’t wear collars.”
“I knew where they were,” Minho grumbled. “I just couldn’t reach them.”
“Then Changbin told me I should replace all your window screens, but I didn’t think that was very romantic.”
“I don’t know, home improvement is very romantic. So is soup.”
Chan was grinning at him now, which was good, because anyone who dated him needed to appreciate his little quips. Minho grinned right back. When it was clear that Minho was done deflecting, Chan said, shyly, “So I wrote you a song.”
Minho truly hadn’t expected much for his birthday, not this early in a relationship. Cake, maybe some flowers. A nice meal at a fancy restaurant. Definitely sex, since it was pretty clear they were compatible there. The gift of a song felt far more personal than the previous night’s fucking, and that hadn’t just been mindless physicality. And there was Chan, waiting for Minho’s reaction, somehow managing to be simultaneously bashful and bold. This gorgeous, endearing, impossible man. Minho wasn’t sure whether to shake him or kiss him.
He suspected he’d probably end up doing both.
“Can I hear it now?”
“It’s not completely done but—”
“Please.”
It was an unnamed file on Chan’s phone. A verse and a chorus, with a melody that made Minho feel like he was the main character in a romantic movie, as if he didn’t already feel that way with Chan holding him close in his kitchen on this golden birthday morning.
Minho made Chan play it again. Once, twice, thrice. After the song faded out the final time, Minho told Chan, “You have to send me the file,” before starting to pull him back toward the bedroom. “Now I’d like my other presents, too.”
“You’re the birthday boy,” Chan said lightly, though his eyes were hot. “You can have everything you want.”
🎁
They were the last ones to arrive at the restaurant for Minho’s birthday dinner. Minho introduced Chan to Jisung, Seungmin, and Hyunjin, and Jisung managed not to say anything especially inappropriate. Though he definitely noticed the fresh hickeys on Minho’s neck, which meant Minho was going to be interrogated later. To be fair, Minho was planning to overshare whether Jisung wanted to listen or not.
When they’d all finally squeezed around their reserved table and started looking through the menu, Seungmin said, “How has your birthday been so far, hyung?”
Minho reached for Chan’s hand under the table—it was there waiting, warm and sure—and said, “Just about perfect.”