Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peculiar things were happening in Chan’s life. 

Not that it usually wasn’t like that, given his job, but still, strange things typically didn’t happen within Chan’s own four walls. As it were, abnormal occurrences happened almost every morning and night, and Chan had no way of explaining them. 

That alone, in and of itself, should’ve been the biggest indicator that something terrible was wrong. Chan had spent his entire life working towards being the best problem solver there had ever been - he should know the answer as to what was happening in his own life! 

And yet, he didn’t. The greatest magical investigator of his time was outwitted by a simple mystery. Chan’s mind was as void as a freshly emptied trash can, nothing but the lingering stench to remind him that something rotten was going on in the comfort of his own home. 

Most of the time, Chan was convinced it was his brain playing tricks on him, his long work hours finally having caught up to him, his need to solve every puzzle in the world having affected his brain and delivered him hallucinations of the most heartbreaking grade catered directly to him. 

There was no logical explanation for what was happening. 

For the first month, he had been able to brush it off using that very tactile excuse. For the second one, he had asked Jisung if he was going insane, or if it was actually happening. To Jisung’s credit, he hadn’t even hesitated before whacking the back of Chan’s head and demanding to know if they had been working overtime due to Chan thinking he was losing his mind. 

Everything Chan feared was a hallucination was actually happening.

Which led him to the third month of this conundrum, with his midsection bearing the burden of being bent in half and searching through a dumpster for evidence. Why? Because dumpsters always hid the best evidence. 

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here,” Jisung complained for the nth time, perched atop a dumpster a couple of feet away from Chan, reclined back, and bathed in a weak ray of sun. “You’re going to stink when we come home, and I don’t want to deal with that.”

“I can bathe myself, don’t worry. I’m not going to involve you in that,” Chan said, only leaning back enough to offer Jisung a glare which was returned with a flash of his blueish tongue stuck out between his teeth. 

Chan wished he could say it was the work of a blueberry-flavored lollipop that had given Jisung’s tongue that color, but, no, it was all biologically accurate. Though Chan should consider himself lucky that the fey he had entered a contract with wasn’t as scary as he had first assumed. 

All things considered, Jisung was fairly mellow compared to all the other supernatural creatures Chan had come into contact with through his job.

“You say that, but we all know you’ll be needing the assistance of my magic once you realize you’ll still be reeking when Minho comes home from work,” Jisung muttered sullenly. “Then you’ll start to whine about it, and I will be forced to make you smell like roses, because Minho likes those. We’ve been here before, Chan, and I am not liking how this moment is already shaping my future.” 

Chan didn’t bother sparing the fey a glance, too familiar with him to know that there wasn’t any other expression on his face than the one where his lips were pursed, and his brows were pushed together in displeasure. They had been together for many years now, since the day Chan turned 18 and decided to take his magic-less disposition into his own hands and draw up a contract with someone who could fix that aspect of him. 

Jisung had been the first one to answer his call, and Chan hadn’t even stopped to wonder if tying himself to a literal fey was a good idea before he did it. 

Looking back, he could have done worse, but Jisung was still a handful on a good day.

“It’s always ‘Jisung, come help me with a stupid task’ and never ‘Jisung, please talk me out of doing this extremely stupid thing’ and that’s how it’s always been,” Jisung continued from behind Chan. “And that’s also why you’re dumpster diving to figure out everything in your life.”

The bottom of the dumpster he had chosen to search through was barely covered, so it didn’t take a lot of effort to weed through the trash. Chan quietly wished he had taken up Jisung’s offer of getting more protective gear than just a pair of gloves, but at least he was experienced enough to do this efficiently. 

“And when we get home, we both know Minho will worry more about you reeking than he will about me having wasted an entire day trying to get you to stop cosplaying a fox,” Jisung whined.

“That’s Jeongin’s job,” Chan said and pushed himself off the edge of the dumpster. He landed with a grunt and brushed off the grime on his gloved hands before turning to face Jisung. 

His veiny butterfly wings were folding tightly against his back, giving him the illusion of merely being a boorish young adult. The truth couldn’t be further from it, the matching gold collar around both their necks telling the world that he and Chan were tied together in a magical contract. 

In return for unlimited magic and power, Jisung got to make Chan his link to the mortal world, and they had been inseparable ever since. Mostly because Jisung was a curious, nosy bastard who didn’t want Chan to run amok with his powers, but also because they had become sort of friends… or as much friends as a mortal running on borrowed magical power could be friends with an immortal being from another realm, of course. 

“We’re searching for clues,” Chan said, finally offering Jisung an explanation as to what in the world they were doing. “Hence, I am actively searching through a dumpster, trying to solve this mystery.”

“The mystery of why Minho keeps heatedly making out with you before leaving for work?” Jisung wondered, his lips drawn wide in a wicked grin. “I don’t see you complaining,” he sang, his sharp teeth gleaming in the dull light of the back alley. 

Against his own wishes, Chan’s cheeks heated up at the mention of what had been bothering him - or, not really bothered, because nothing about Minho kissing him first thing in the morning could bring down his mood - but he just didn’t have an explanation for it. It didn’t make sense that Minho would go from being his best friend to kissing him without any warning.

Chan wasn’t a prude, but dinner beforehand might have been nice, or perhaps a warning. 

“No, not that,” Chan grumbled between clenched teeth, wishing he had the willpower to shove Jisung down one of the dumpsters. The whining party afterwards wouldn’t be worth it, but it sure was tempting. “Well, kinda that.”

“You could also just ask him, and we could get back to taking on more exciting cases that don’t involve us having to rummage through the trash of your entire apartment complex,” Jisung suggested, hand held out in front of him to admire his nails. “Or you could hire another detective to do this shit so we don’t have to. Isn’t there something biased about you taking on a case that involves you?”

“This isn’t an official case, and no, I’m not biased in this matter,” Chan muttered. “And we will not be bringing any competitors to any business when we’re in possession of the skill set needed to figure this out ourselves.”

“Things were so much more fun when you only did this Paranormal Activity Private Investigator gig as a part-time thing,” Jisung sighed, wings fluttering. “Back then, I got so much more sleep than I do now.”

“You don’t even require sleep.”

“No, but I do enjoy not being outside all day long - it’s fucking freezing if you haven’t noticed!”

“Stop whining or I’ll tattle to Minho that you made my work day difficult,” Chan muttered, using his power to make the lid of the next dumpster in the line fly open. “And I’ll tell him you can’t come along when he and Jeongin go shopping.” 

Jisung gasped, making a high, shrill sound.

“You wouldn’t dare! You know how insane he gets about that,” Jisung huffed, sitting up and staring at Chan with wide neon blue eyes. “Minho might be a sorcerer, but he will not hesitate to pin me to a frame and display me like some messed-up taxidermy.”  

“Then let’s get back to work,” Chan said, and singled out the next dumpster he was hoping could lead him down the right path.

“What do you want me to look for?” Jisung asked, joining Chan as he pulled himself over the edge and into the dumpster. “I have rotten banana peels, a few apple cores, and what looks like someone’s monthly supply of yogurt containers,” he muttered with slight disdain. Given that he and dairy weren’t friends on a good day, Chan could kind of understand him. 

“Love potions, ripped out spell-book pages, or even a random note,” Chan rambled off and got to work. “Everything magical or out of place. You’ve done this a million times before. You know what is weird by now,” Chan said, tearing a bag open and wincing at the scent of rancid chicken. 

“You’re insane,” Jisung sighed and joined him.

Chan’s search through the dumpster proved futile, and after 3 showers and Jisung’s assistance with finding a spell effective enough to rid him of the stench of rotten fruit, Chan was back to the business of trying to untangle this mystery.

As preparation for his investigation, he and Jisung drew out a mental timeline of everything that had happened from the morning Minho had first kissed Chan. That first one had become the catalyst for more, until Minho’s go-to method of greeting Chan was with his lips pressed against Chan’s.

Things had changed around the end of November. They had shared a few kisses prior to that, all of them instigated by Minho, but most notably the morning after Chan had joined him for a concert after Minho’s latest flirt had stood him up. 

Chan had watched Minho get ready, and Jisung had helpfully suggested they curse the dude for being late, until it became evident the guy wasn’t going to show up at all, even without magical sabotage. Chan had seen Minho’s eyes grow glassy and his pout trembling, knew the concert he was going to was one Minho had looked forward to a lot, and then, without prompting, Chan had offered to go instead. 

As a stand-in date, of course. Fully platonic, no feeling involved, no Chan-accidentally-revealing-his-crush-on-Minho-during-his-favortite-song, or a so-since-you’re-single-and-I’m-single-perhaps-we-should-be-single-together-in-a-highly-committed-exclusive-relationship kind of thing. No, none of that. Just two roomies hanging out and being there for each other. Like bros. Dedicated bros, where one had a crush on the other, but it was still 100% platonic.

After that perfectly normal evening, where Chan might have had to swallow his own feelings with more alcohol than he could handle, things had changed - the biggest one being that Minho had become a lot freer with his caresses and his affection. 

However, it had taken a handful of weeks, after they had returned home from visiting Minho’s family, to be precise, before things had changed permanently. Chan had once again acted as his pretend boyfriend, like the good friend and true bro he was, saving Minho from having to admit that he was still single and diverting attention away from Minho and onto his younger cousins. 

The Lee family cared a lot about having all their members matched up in perfect relationships, something about a happy sorcerer being a better sorcerer. 

Minho and Chan had been there to celebrate Samhaim, and Chan had been brought along to play the role of Minho’s loving partner, who just so happened to be a warlock and thus not a suitable spouse for someone who came from a long line of sorcerers and innate magic wielders. 

Chan had done his task well. Everyone had ignored him, and Minho hadn’t been asked a single question about settling down and getting married, just in case he got the wrong idea and decided Chan was the perfect match for him.

It had been an interesting experience, and Chan had loved and hated every moment. 

Loved it because it proved how perfect he and Minho would be if they were a couple, and hated it because it was all a lie to make Minho’s aunts get off his back. Next year, Minho would undoubtedly have found a new and competent partner, and Chan would soon be forgotten as that weird boyfriend Minho brought once upon a time in an act of defiance. 

It didn’t hurt that it wasn’t that long after Minho had begun to kiss him, simply turning around one night after they had been out to dinner and planting a deep, knee-buckling kiss right on Chan’s lips. 

“Maybe he’s been cursed by another sorcerer into kissing random people, and that’s why he’s started kissing you,” Jisung offered, making Chan blink as he returned to reality. 

“Except I’m not random,” Chan reminded him, tapping his marker against the table. This was a tough case, tough enough that he had dared to bring out the whiteboard even though it usually distracted Jisung. “And as we’ve already made sure, I’m the only one he’s been kissing, which means it’s probably not that.”

“Maybe he’s just been cursed into kissing his roommate?” Jiusung shrugged, lying flat on his stomach on the floor in the corner of the room, the carpet under him looking suspiciously like grass. 

Chan wasn’t getting his deposit back from this place ever, and it would all be due to Jisung’s lack of manners. 

“But he hasn’t been kissing you, Jisung,” Chan reminded him, knowing a spell would be the most obvious cause behind Minho’s altered behavior. 

Except that Minho didn’t show any symptoms of being spell-trapped.

“No, he hasn’t,” Jisung hummed and frowned at Chan like he was looking at it from a whole new angle.  

“Then that’s probably not the case since you’re also his roommate,” Chan explained helpfully, smiling as Jisung’s frown deepened. 

Apparently, fey courting was much easier; you simply preened at your intended as if you were a bird, and if they liked you back, they would accept the offer, and you would go straight to making out. 

“Ah, well, it was worth the shot,” Jisung sighed, wings fluttering slightly and sending rainbows of ricocheting light around the room. “You humans are so weird. A fey would never kiss another fey until they were ready to mate,” he added, still frowning at the whiteboard that was painfully blank. 

“Thanks,” Chan muttered sarcastically. “Keep up the good work.”

“Of course,” Jisung saluted and grinned at Chan. “And you’re sure Minho doesn’t want to mate you? Because it really does look a lot like human courting.”

“If Minho and I were dating, I think I would know,” Chan said, pushing up from the chair. It was a terrible predicament. Chan wanted nothing more than for him and Minho to date, but it was kind of impossible with how Minho was so far out of Chan’s league. 

Minho was perfect, all Chan would ever want in a partner, but Chan, on the other hand, was everything everyone did not want in a partner. Jisung quite literally owned his soul and his body, Chan was married to his job, and while Minho technically owned his heart, it didn’t undo the other two. 

After a couple of hours of brainstorming, Chan had managed to boil everything down to 3 main hypotheses: 

1. Love Potion
2. Concussion 
3. A lost bet with Jeongin

“But why would Jeongin make a bet involving Minho kissing me?” Chan wondered out loud, watching Jisung draw a number of zigzagging lines that clearly meant something in Fey on the whiteboard. “They’re like pseudo brothers, wouldn’t that be weird?” 

“You know what a wonderful little devil Innie can be,” Jisung said, as love-sick as ever. “It’s cruel that he isn’t fey so I could declare my honest intentions. Do you remember when Innie made a bet about which one of them could lift the most with their powers? They almost killed themselves before calling it a tie, so a bet wouldn’t be too out of bounds for them,” he added, the zigzag drawing starting to look a little like flowers. 

“True,” Chan sighed, feeling lost. With a snap of his fingers, his scribbles disappeared, giving more room for Jisung to get lost in his drawings. At least one of them was having a great day. “I give up. This is hopeless,” he said and flung himself back in his chair. 

It didn’t creak as it accepted him like it was a cloud - courtesy of a spell Minho had cast on it, for practice, Minho claimed, even though Chan highly doubted that was true.

The chair-repair had come after the fatal October concert outing, but prior to the kissing, which just made the entire action that much more befuddling. For 4 years, Minho had heard Chan complain about his favorite chair creaking and not once had he lifted a finger to help fix it, until one day Chan sat down and the damned thing was fixed, with softer pillows, automatic cooling or warming depending on the weather, and it was even stain-repelling.

It also came with an iron cross under the seat, spelled to stick so well that Jisung couldn’t get it off and was thereby no longer able to steal Chan’s chair. He appreciated it since Minho had also removed the cloves that had been growing on the armrests for months.

What made it all the more puzzling was that sorcerers never did anything nice for anyone. It was their thing. Just like the fey couldn’t lie, or like a warlock siphoned their powers from otherworldly creatures, a sorcerer didn’t do anything without reason, and only if it benefited them.

How Minho was benefiting from this was a mystery for when Chan had figured out why Minho was kissing him. 

“Jagi-ya, I’m home,” Minho called, the front door bursting open, and the sound of the cats rushing down the hallway following. “You would not believe what I saw on my way home,” he continued, nearly drowned out by the sound of his shoes being kicked off. “There was a pineapple sale!”

Like a god from faraway lands, Minho entered the room, holding out two bags of golden and perfectly ripe pineapples. The rainbows reflecting off Jisung’s wings bathed him in a myriad of colors, his big onyx eyes sparkling and his little bunny teeth gleaming.

Chan momentarily forgot his own name as the cats rubbed themselves against him in greeting. Upon being ignored, they changed their target from Chan to Jisung, who welcomed them with open arms.

“I can make you fresh juice,” Minho cheered, sauntered over to him, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on Chan’s lips, smooth with practiced ease. His lips were warm and familiar as they moved against Chan’s, a nip at his bottom lip eliminating it from being deemed chaste. “Much better than that concentrate stuff,” he said and gave Chan a final peck and withdrew.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chan said, having a hard time not smiling at his roommate. He loved fresh pineapple juice, and Minho knew that from the countless rants Chan had gone on about it. “Now I’ll have to get you pudding from that place you like,” he teased, his eyes stuck to Minho as he set the bags down on the kitchen counter. 

The layout of their apartment was open to accommodate Jisung and his dislike of cramped spaces, so from the vantage point of his office chair, Chan followed Minho as he put everything away in the cupboards and fridge. He looked so at home in the kitchen, which was also the one place in the apartment Jisung was banned from touching. 

Minho did not want moss on his counters. 

“Hmm, I mean, you don’t have to,” Minho grinned and spared Chan a glance over his shoulder. His purple hair was slightly mussed from being outside, but it just made him look that much more free and appealing to Chan, wild with magic and mischief. “But you definitely should,” he added playfully, crossing the room to meet Chan at his chair again, hips swaying with every step. “Might even earn you more than just juice,” he practically purred, leaning up against Chan’s chair and staring down at him with those dark, seductive boba eyes. 

Chan’s heart stuttered, delusional enough to think that Minho was flirting with him. 

“Curry?” Chan offered, feeling a little lost. Really, it wasn’t unusual for him to have no idea what Minho was talking about, but lately it seemed worse than ever.

“I mean, if that is all you want,” Minho said, shoulders falling a little. He looked disappointed, eyes fleeing Chan to settle on Jisung scribbling poetry onto the white board, the words overlaying his flowers. “Though case?” He asked, crossing his arms as he nodded at Jisung. “You braved Sungie and the board.”

“Chan has been working all day, and he hasn’t gotten anywhere,” Jisung piped up, unhelpful as ever. When Chan glared at him, all he got was a cheeky smile. “Even took a trip into a dumpster.”

“Oh?” Minho frowned, something akin to worry in his voice as his arms uncrosed, one hand landing warm and firm on Chan's shoulder. “You okay?” He asked, his hand drifting carefully up and down Chan’s arm. 

Chan looked up at Minho, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Chan replied, trying and failing at not leaning into the touch. “It’s just a dumpster, you know. It was more tedious getting clean than it was searching through it,” he said, and lost the battle of keeping his eyes open. 

Tension escaped him as Minho kept touching him, rubbing his arm, and standing close to him. Just his presence was like a cooling balm for Chan’s tired body. 

“You work too hard,” Minho lamented with a shake of his head, as he kept rubbing Chan’s arm. 

“Hmm, I work just enough,” Chan muttered, leaning more and more to one side and into Minho, until his forehead was pressed into Minho’s toned, sweater-clad stomach.

“I dare say, your definition of ‘enough’ and mine are not the same,” Minho huffed, thankfully sounding amused. 

The cats chose that moment to try their luck again, purring loudly as they began to rub up against Chan’s leg, staring at him with large pupils and feisty meows. 

“Now what is all this fuss?” Chan laughed at Minho’s three familiars, all of them blinking up at him slowly. “It was a dumpster. I’ve been in those before,” he told the cats, only succeeding in making them purr louder. 

Jisung cackled by the whiteboard, evidently amused at how Chan wasn’t used to being at the centre of both Minho and his cat’s attention. 

“They’re worried about you, too. You look tense, stressed even,” Minho said, gently detangling from Chan and settling behind the chair. Chan nearly jumped out of his skin when Minho’s hands landed on his shoulders, thumbs digging into Chan’s tense muscles. “Shit, you are tense,” he chastised and started to massage Chan’s shoulder in earnest. “Did you accidentally spell your shoulders into rocks or something?”

“No… fuck… It’s a tough case,” Chan muttered, practically melting under Minho’s touch. “Makes my head hurt,” he muttered, eyes slipping shut as he relaxed. His shoulder had indeed been tense, but Minho seemed to know just where to press to make them begin to ease. 

“Ah,” Minho clicked his tongue, the disappointment from before disappearing from his tone. “You need to tell me, Channie,” he said, hands moving over Chan’s shoulder, practically fondling his back and neck. God bless that Chan always wore sleeveless shirts, meaning he got to feel Minho’s hands all over his bare skin. “I can help you out if you need to.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Chan brushed it off, knowing Minho couldn’t really help when he was the mystery in question. “I just need to wrap my head around it,” he groaned, leaning back as Minho kept touching him, warm hands teasing Chan’s muscles into relaxing. 

“Sure,” Minho said, thumbs digging hard into the knots in Chan’s neck and pulling a hiss out of him. “But I will not allow anything, case or not, to make you this tense, Chan. I love you, so don’t hurt yourself over work.”

The ‘I love you’ was like a knife to Chan’s fragile heart.

“Love you too, bro,” Chan replied, happy Felix had taught him to be comfortable with random declarations of friendly love. “And I’ll take care of myself,” he promised, blinking slowly as Minho kept rubbing his shoulders, only stopping when Chan felt ready to fall asleep. 

“There,” Minho muttered, gently pulling Chan so he was leaning back on the chair, while Dori jumped up on his lap and rolled up. “Now, you nap while I cook,” he instructed and kissed Chan again, this time longer and more for the intimacy of it all than anything else.

“Yes, dear,” Chan teased, already half asleep.

“Why don’t you ever rub my shoulders?” Jisung bemoaned, busy in his little moss-clad corner of the living room. 

“Because you’re not Chan,” Minho replied, and Chan smiled. “Because you’re not mine,” he swore Minho whispered under his breath, but by then Chan was already drifting alseep, Dori’s purring making him forget all his worries. If only for a moment. 

The bedroom door creaked open at half past three in the morning, inviting inside a beam of light from the lamp hanging in the hallway. It was quickly quelled as Minho snuck inside of Chan’s room, closing the door resolutely behind him. Chan was about to open his mouth to remind him to leave it ajar for the cats when he remembered that Minho had fixed that issue several weeks ago. 

It had happened a day while Chan had been away, and upon returning home, Minho had broken a small hole in his wall to install a cat door. Perhaps breaking a hole hadn’t been the best way of going about it, but who was Chan to dictate how interior design worked? He was too busy with work to care much about what was happening in their apartment, and since it solved an issue he and Minho had, no harm was done. 

“It won’t be a problem anymore when I come visit you after dark,” Minho had proudly declared back then, and Chan had merely shrugged. 

As long as Minho was happy, Chan was happy. And it wasn’t like they would get anything back from their deposit anyway. Jisung and his moss wall had made sure of that.

“Minho?” Chan muttered, his eyes barely open enough to make out the shape of Minho as he crossed the room. “What are you doing?”

“Shh, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Minho replied. He sounded miles more awake than Chan, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering Minho went to bed at a reasonable time compared to him. 

“Wasn’t sleeping,” Chan said, only lying a little bit as he scooted over to make room for Minho. He lifted up the duvet, and Minho slipped under the covers in a swift and practiced motion, slithering all the way up to Chan so nearly every part of them touched.

Once, Chan thought he would never get to experience this, but at present, Minho slept more in Chan’s bed than he did in his own. 

“Liar,” Minho said, tangling his and Chan’s legs together as if it were the most innocent action in the entire world. Maybe it was to him. Chan wouldn’t know. Minho was becoming more and more confusing by the hour. “But it’s okay. I forgive you.”

“Thank God,” Chan said with an extra deep and relieved sigh for dramatic effect. 

Minho giggled, a light and airy sound that sent a shiver through Chan’s body. Minho took it as a sign to move closer and eliminate the chill he had let in while getting into bed with Chan. He draped his arm over Chan’s chest, nuzzling into his embrace, and Chan’s body moved on its own, enveloping Minho and tugging him closer.

As it always did, Minho’s hand found the spot right over Chan’s heart, the warmth of his palm seeping through his bare skin and right into him. 

He fit perfectly in Chan’s arms, like they were shaped to lie together like this. 

“You don’t have to use magic to warm me up,” Chan said with a smile on his face. Minho wouldn’t be able to see it, but he could probably hear how affected Chan was by his casual touch. 

“No, but I want to,” Minho said, rubbing Chan’s chest. “Isn’t that the perks of living with someone with innate magic? I don’t even have to think about it, and it happens.”

“I guess it is,” Chan said, never really having been used to magic before he bonded with Jisung. “Though I can think of plenty of other perks of living with you than your magic.”

Minho hummed and didn’t offer up any reply. Chan didn’t take his silence to heart. For all he knew, Minho just wanted some company before he went to work, but something told Chan this wasn’t one of those cases. Minho remained silent, but he didn’t relax and make himself comfortable like he would if he was going back to sleep, nor was this quick enough for it to be his newfound way of saying goodbye. 

After what felt like ages where neither of them made a move, Chan opened his mouth. 

“Can’t sleep?” Chan asked, quiet enough to give Minho an out if he didn’t want to reply. 

For all Chan knew, Minho might want to sleep and pretend he had never snuck into Chan’s bed by the time sunlight crept in through the gaps of his curtains.

“Bad dream,” Minho replied in a hoarse whisper. “It was so bad I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Evidently, aking had been the right choice to make. His heart swelled at the prospect of Minho wishing to divulge his secrets to Chan. It didn’t matter if it was something as ordinary as a bad dream; Chan desperately wanted anything and everything Minho was willing to share with him. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Chan asked, and promptly bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself in check. Part of him wanted to rush words of comfort, to shower Minho in as much empathy as he could muster, but that would only scare him off, or at least pose the risk of doing so, and Chan couldn’t bear for that to happen. 

In the end, Minho was as much like his cat familiars - it was always better to let him come to you than chase him down. 

The question hung in the air for a long while. Chan feared he wouldn’t get an answer, and even if he didn’t, Chan didn’t feel disparaged about it. Minho would share everything with him when the time was right, but Chan so desperately wished for this moment to be the one. He wanted Minho to trust him, and perhaps also see how Chan and he would be good together.

In true Minho-fashion, he didn’t get an answer immediately. He made Chan wait for it, anticipating it with bated breath, a whisper of hesitation between them until Minho, a couple of moments later, opened his mouth and spoke. 

“I dreamt,” he started in a hushed voice. “That I’d misinterpreted something and I was going to lose everything because of it,” Minho said, hand twitching over Chan’s heart. 

Chan’s brows furrowed in the darkness. Misinterpreted? Minho wasn’t the sort of person who would misinterpret anything. No, he was good at picking apart exchanges between people, finding flaws and things to nitpick, so he didn’t get himself stuck in between a rock and a hard place. If anything, Minho was too good at interpreting things and possessed an uncanny ability to read people’s minds and figure out their true intentions from just observing them.

However, telling Minho all of that was as good as a dismissal of what his dream had shown him, and Chan knew better than to inflict the feeling of being disregarded on someone as precious to him as Minho. 

“Well, even if that turns out to be the case,” Chan said after a short while, mulling over his words. “You’d never lose me. I’ll always be by your side no matter what happens, and a small misunderstanding isn’t going to take me away from you,” he finished with a quiet laugh, leaving enough sappiness in his voice for Minho to latch onto a ridicule. 

He didn’t.

“Thank you,” Minho said sincerely, his voice echoing within Chan’s head. “For reassuring me,” he added almost breathlessly and snuggled closer into Chan’s embrace. “I don’t know. I think I just got all trapped in my head. I… I would be devastated if I misunderstood this.”

Chan wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was, but he knew Minho well enough not to ask right now. Chan was an investigator. Perhaps once he figured out why Minho kept kissing him, he could figure out what else was plaguing Minho.

“Nah, it’s good,” Chan said. Minho was in his bed, safe, comforted, and Chan had once again proven to be an excellent roommate and even better friend. “You won’t lose anything, least of all me,” he admitted, ignoring how he was getting a little too close to the truth. “And you haven't misunderstood a thing.”

Really, what could Minho have misunderstood? He was the smartest person Chan knew. 

“Good,” Minho breathed, his whole body relaxing. “I’m… I’m really glad,” he added, and Chan knew he had indeed said the right thing. “This is not something I’m willing to lose,” he whispered, and Chan frowned, wondering what Minho’s poor brain had tried to trick him with. 

They didn’t speak further after that. They could’ve, if Minho wanted to, but he appeared more content to just melt into Chan and fall back asleep, which he did in record time. His breath left him in quiet huffs, his palm resting right of Chan’s heart, and sleep, well, it eluded Chan for the rest of the night, his body too attuned to having Minho so close and trying to figure out what the heck Minho was afraid of losing.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Jisung chanted, pinching Chan’s cheek repeatedly and effectively yanking him out of the sweet dream he had been stuck in. “You have to wake up!”

Chan’s breath got caught in his throat, and he sat up only to be met with the immovable force that was Jisung straddling him. The fey stared down at him with wide, neon-blue eyes, his wings fanned out behind him in a partly threatening manner. 

“What’s the matter?” Chan grumbled and slumped back onto the mattress. He reached for his phone and checked the time, finding it was a little past eight in the morning. On a Sunday. “You are aware it’s the weekend, right?”

Chan thought Jisung had finally understood the point about letting Chan sleep in on weekends. Evidently, he was wrong.

“More than aware,” Jisung replied, batting Chan’s phone out of his hand like an insistent cat during play time. “Which you should also be. It’s Sunday, Chan! Sunday!”

“I feel like I’m missing something about why today is so important,” Chan said and looked back up at Jisung perched atop him. He was never going to be able to fall back asleep after this. 

“It’s the first Sunday of the month, and that means it’s time for Minho and Jeongin to do their monthly trip to the market, which means that Jeongin will be here, and he will be in a good mood, which then means he will actually acknowledge my existence, and - you know where I’m going with this - the odds of him-”

“- realizing he’s in love with you has just risen with about 0.7%,” Chan finished for him, the groggy state of his sleepy brain the only reason he hadn’t cut Jisung off earlier.  He couldn’t believe this was his life now. He knew the risks when he summoned a being from another realm to bond with, but he had not expected that fairies and toddlers would have so much in common. “And now you want me to help you pick an outfit, correct?”

Perhaps Chan should have just gotten a dog, like his parents had suggested, when he turned 18. 

Jisung nodded enthusiastically, and Chan returned his glee with a grunt and a deep sigh. Jisung jumped off of him instantly, knowing from experience that Chan had already been convinced and would help glam him up for a day of hovering by Jeongin’s side while the young witch ignored him. As long as Jisung was content, then Chan would happily indulge him in his peculiar hobbies. 

“Let’s get to it, then, we don’t have all morning,” Chan relented, pushing himself up in a sitting position and making himself comfortable against the headboard of his bed. “Do you have a specific color scheme in mind, or is it just based on whatever catches your fancy?” 

Without further delay, Jisung threw himself into Chan’s closet, hauling out jacket after jacket, trousers flying in the air, and shirts littering the floor. He went through several outfit options, eventually settling on blue as his base color, building an entire outfit around it. 

Thankfully, Chan didn’t lack clothes - all courtesy of Jisung’s love of shopping and Chan’s inability to say no whenever Jisung decided he required something - and while it did take over 2 hours, they finally found a set of clothes Jisung thought could win Jeongin over. 

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Jisung asked, nervously fidgeting with the hem of the navy shirt he had found in the back of the closet. It was paired with a well-worn leather jacket, skinny jeans from the previous decade, and a freshwater pearl necklace Chan assumed came from Jisung’s own collection. “Or is it too much?”

“It’s very unique,” Chan said, words muffled behind a yawn. “It’s very you, too, which is what we’re going for, right? It’s unique and universally you, and if Jeongin doesn’t like that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Jisung blinked at him, glimmery tears beading in the corner of his eyes and - 

“You mortals are so nice,” Jisung sniffled and hastily wiped his eyes. “I’ll win Jeongin’s heart over today or die trying!” He declared proudly, giving Chan a nod of determination, and was out of the door long before Chan could offer him any words of encouragement. 

Chan was really happy he had sent Minho in to sleep in his own bed the night before when he started nodding off around ten, or Jisung would indeed have been hanging on the wall, a perfect example of the art of taxidermy. 

“Please don’t die,” Chan muttered and kicked his blanket off his feet. “Minho is only a morning person once he has had his coffee,” he added, shivering as his feet hit the cold floor. The apartment was slightly chilly during the morning hours, though it was an easy fix. 

Chan muttered a spell under his breath, warmth spreading from where his bare feet touched the floorboards and traveling through the wood into the other rooms of their home. He hoped Minho wasn’t awake yet, as unlikely as that was with how noisy Jisung was. The sorcerer had a tendency to run cold, and it always helped when Chan had ensured the apartment was well-heated before he woke up.

Heat and coffee made a happy Morning-Minho. Chan had learned the hard way. 

He got dressed in a pair of sweats and a tee Jisung had abandoned on the floor, cleaning the room with a well-practiced sweep. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he made his way to the kitchen and started the coffee maker. It sputtered to life, and by the time Chan found a mug to place under it, Minho had his grand entrance without Chan noticing. 

He startled as a pair of arms encircled him from behind, joined by a kiss pressed to his nape, and the scent of Minho’s preferred perfume embraced the two of them. 

“Good morning,” Minho murmured, nuzzling into Chan’s back and sending his heart rate soaring. “Sleep well?”

Chan blinked, his entire body frozen, and his eyes widening when it fully settled what was happening. Minho was hugging him. Hugging him from the back. Minho was backhugging him. Holy shit, Chan dared say this was as close to heaven as he was ever going to get. 

“Yeah,” Chan replied belatedly, his voice cracking on the simple word. He cleared his throat and repeated himself, his face heating up in embarrassment. 

“You didn’t grow all cold and lonely without me?” Minho asked, smiling like a cat that had just eaten a whole goddamn avery. “Didn’t twist and turn wishing you had dragged me to bed with you?” He added, those alluring boba eyes of his making Chan a little insane.

He couldn’t even drink bubble tea anymore without getting a little too excited. 

“I-” Chan tried to say, words eluding him as all he could see was Minho. “Eh… what did you say?” 

“Cute,” Minho said, but he didn’t pull back as Chan feared. No, he stayed with his arms around Chan, clinging to him like a koala, and only released him once the coffee machine pinged, indicating that it was done brewing. 

“Thank you,” he added, kissing Chan’s nape a second time as if for good measure. “You spoil me, Chan, really, how am I supposed to be able to get up in the morning without you?”

“You could just stay with me,” Chan said like an idiot. “You know, roomies for life and all that,” he coughed out, voice a little thrill. 

“Hmm, I like that,” Minho said, nuzzling Chan’s shoulder. Only then did he draw away to take the mug and left Chan alone in the kitchen to calm himself. His heart was in his throat, his face hot as if he had been standing in the summer sun for hours, and his palms so sweaty he needed to wipe them off on his pants… which was also hiding another problem Chan wasn’t ready to acknowledge existed. 

Minho had too much of an effect on him, considering no other person had ever made his body come alive like this.

He blinked at the coffee maker, the mortification of being found conversing with inanimate objects (again) stopping him from asking if Minho’s backhug really happened. 

“Wow,” Chan breathed and put his hand over his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. “The death of me,” he whispered, low enough no one but the coffeemaker could hear him. “That’s what he will be. The fucking death of me.”

The rest of the morning passed him by in a blur, his face maintaining its flushed appearance even as he sat down and ate his breakfast, though sticking his head in the freezer had calmed the rest of him down. The blush stayed there all the way up until Minho returned to the kitchen, grabbed an apple from the basket, and ate it, smiling cheekily the entire time, an air of self-assuredness hanging around him.

“I’ll be back late,” Minho said, tossing the apple core into the compost bin on the counter. He turned to face Chan, his purple hair styled so prettily that Chan got a little lost inside his own head, staring at it. “So you don’t have to wait, but if you do, I promise to bring home a midnight snack for you.”

“Uh-huh,” Chan managed to get out, his mouth open and his mind blank in the face of Minho’s beauty. “You look really pretty considering it’s a Sunday.”

“Do Sundays usually make me ugly?” Minho laughed and ruffled Chan’s hair as he passed him, and Chan nearly fell out of his chair - Shit, his brain-to-mouth filter was usually better than this. 

“No, no, no, of course, they don’t,” Chan rushed, trailing after Minho out of the kitchen and into the hallway. “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you look really pretty when you get dressed up to go out. Not that you don’t usually look really pretty, because you do, obviously you do, you’re Lee Minho, there’s never been a single day where you’ve been below an 11.”

“An 11, you say,” Minho snickered, in the middle of shrugging on his coat, and Chan wished he could just make himself shut up before he said something even more stupid. 

“A 12, really, even a 13 on a good day, which is almost every day when it comes to you since you’re practically flawless,” Chan continued, sounding far too much like Jisung, which just showed him that he should stop spending every single day with him. “And I think you should consider going into modelling because you’re worthy of grazing every single magazine cover, though I’d probably go broke so quickly from buying so many copies and-”

“Chan.”

“Yeah?” Chan wheezed, voice cracking again. 

“Stop talking,” Minho said and took matters into his own hands, cutting Chan’s embarrassing ramble off with a chaste kiss placed on his waiting lips. “See you later.”

“Wait for me!” Jisung yelled and ran past both of them to reach the door the fastest. “I’ll be joining you!”

“I expected nothing less,” Minho responded and withdrew from Chan. Their eyes remained locked for a brief moment, and during that time, Chan did everything he could to not lean back in and recapture Minho’s lips. 

It wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of him when Chan still didn’t know what had caused Minho to start acting like this. And Chan was a good guy, a nice one, and like a really nice one. Not one of those nice people who said they were nice, but were only nice to get sex. No, Chan was nice and kind because that was the right thing to do, because kindness bred kindness, and Chan wanted the world to be better and for Minho to be happy. 

He also wanted to breed Minho, but he was not thinking about that until Minho was out the door and Chan had the bathroom, and most importantly, the shower, all to himself without Jisung knocking on the door waiting to come in. 

Chan swore Minho’s shoulders sank the more time passed where neither of them made a move, but Chan was as good at nailed in place. Even if he wanted to, his conscience wouldn’t let him. Nice! He was a nice guy whom Minho would thank once this was over for not taking advantage of him.

“Well.” Minho cleared his throat and turned away from Chan, facing Jisung. “Let’s go meet up with Jeongin, shall we?” He said, sounding slightly dejected. “Soonie, Doongie, Dori, come on.” 

The sounds of paws followed, and a moment later, the door slammed closed. Chan counted down from a hundred, gave it another hundred before he ran to the bathroom, out of his pants before the water was even warm. 

It was a half hour later when Chan settled at the table with a glass of juice, loose limbs, and damp hair. His computer was in front of him, luring him with all the answers he needed. With both Minho and Jisung out of the house, Chan did what any other man in his late-twenties did whenever faced with personal crises: He sought out the advice of Reddit with a post aptly titled “AITA for wanting to kiss my roommate back even though he keeps initiating?”

Safe to say, Chan spent the rest of the day defending himself from the crowd of people calling him names. He was accused of being an idiot, of being blinder than a bat, of being a bot, and worst of all, scolded for stringing Minho along, which he very evidently wasn’t. At least he didn’t think so.

Chan had only barely managed to tuck himself back into his pants and flush the toilet before the door to the bathroom swung open, and Minho sauntered in as if he owned the place. Granted, he did, but that didn’t give him the right to walk in on Chan. Or maybe it did. Chan didn’t have it in him to scold Minho when he looked so soft and ready for bed. 

“Aren’t you going to wash your hands?” Minho asked, eyebrow raised at Chan as he opened the cupboard above the sink and picked up his toothbrush. “Don’t be nasty.”

“I was going to, but you startled me,” Chan said, reaching for the soap. Before he could turn on the tab, Minho had already done it for him and gestured for him to get a move on. Chan obliged, although with a small frown of confusion. 

“Do I look that much like a ghost?” Minho wondered out loud as if there had been any indication that his appearance had been the issue and not the fact that he was completely unbothered by almost walking in on Chan peeing. “How was work?” He asked, powering on without granting Chan a second to respond.

“Work?” Chan echoed, diligently washing his hands under Minho’s supervision. “It was alright - Jisung figured something very important out for the case about the missing tiara,” he added, drying his hands quickly. 

“The invisible one?” Minho hummed and stuck his toothbrush under the running water to wet the bristles. Chan let it run for a second longer and turned off the tab and reached for his own toothbrush, only to have it shoved in his face by Minho. 

“Thanks.” Chan retrieved the toothbrush with about as much confusion as he had had earlier in the day when Minho kissed him while they were on the couch, passionately, deeply, and long, to the point that Chan had gotten all breathless and giddy. Chan wasn’t sure when the kisses had gone from being hello-goodbye-goodmorning-goodnight kisses to whenever-Minho-damn-well-pleased kisses, but Minho’s condition was clearly getting worse. 

And Chan was as clueless as ever. 

“But, yes, it was the invisible one,” Chan said, Minho looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Apparently, according to Jisung, whenever his aunt lost something invisible, it was usually right in front of her.”

“And was it?” Minho asked around the toothbrush, his words muffled.

“It was, yes, where the client had last seen it, except it had been moved about 10 centimetres,” Chan said, feeling quite proud that he had solved a case that had baffled the police for days. “Perfect condition, not a single diamond missing.”

“Ah, probably a pixie then,” Minho mumbled around the foam in his mouth. How he managed to look both adorable and drop-dead sexy while brushing his teeth was beyond Chan. 

“Yes, that’s what Jisung said,” Chan nodded and threw himself into an elaborate explanation about everything that had gone down during his and Jisung’s visit to the client’s mansion and how many things the old woman had been hoarding and how it really was her own fault for losing all of her stuff. 

“It’s a good thing she did, though,” Minho replied after rinsing his mouth and putting the toothbrush back in its rightful spot. Chan hadn’t even gotten further than waving his own toothbrush around as he spoke. “It keeps you in business, so for all I care, she can keep on losing her things.”

“You have a point,” Chan said, the toothbrush practically forgotten in his hand. “But we told her to dust around the tiara with flour so she can see if anyone meddles with it again.”

“Hmm, you’re such a sweet guy,” Minho sighed, shaking his head as he gave Chan a look that could only be described as adoring. 

“Well, that’s me,” Chan laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck with his free hand. “You should get yourself one of those,” he added before he was able to stop himself from speaking. 

“I already have,” Minho said and silenced Chan by leaning in close and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Goodnight, Channie,” he whispered against Chan’s lips. “Dream of me.”  

Chan remained in the bathroom for an embarrassing amount of time afterwards, just touching his lips and his cheeks burning bright red. The ghost of Minho’s lips left his entire body tingling well into the night hours as he worked on a report for work.

Chan groaned at his computer desperately. He had tried to make a mind map on the screen, hoping to help him at least create a timeline for Minho’s odd behavior in the last month, but so far, he wasn’t having any luck. 

The fact that he had to do it on the computer didn’t help either, because Chan was an old fashioned kind of investigator who loved the art of a pins and strings, but he couldn’t do this anywhere near Minho - for obvious reasons, it wasn’t exactly advised to conduct research in front of the subject of your investigation - so it had to be electronic given Minho wouldn’t touch anything mechanical. 

It was sacrilege for a sorcerer to use electric appliances when it was far better to use magic. 

The computer also had the added bonus of ensuring Jisung didn’t try to mess with Chan’s observations, as the fey usually had some rather odd ideas. The other added bonus of not using pins and strings was that Jisung also had a terrible habit of getting distracted by the string, thus connecting all the wrong dots and making a mess of it all.

He wasn’t exactly the brightest when it came to the investigative part of being a Paranormal Activity Private Investigator. Fey logic and human behavior didn’t exactly mix well. They could not lie and were therefore very straightforward, humans on the other had lied a little too much and it was impossible for Jisung to comprehend fully. Thankfully, he was a pro at everything else the job entailed. Such as intimidating people, coming up with theories, and being really nice to hang out with on stakeouts. 

If you looked past the fact that Chan’s car was currently covered in dandelions, of course. 

“I have it!” Jisung exclaimed as if he was trying to prove Chan’s thoughts correct. “Minho is a changeling.”

“Sung,” Chan said with as much patience as he could muster despite the seriousness of the situation. “How old are changelings usually?”

“Well, babies, of course,” Jisung said, his voice clearly alluding to the fact that he found Chan silly for even questioning him. “If we shifted out a grown person, people would notice,” he added, his large and neon blue eyes meeting Chan’s ordinary ones across the room. 

“Yes, and how old is Minho?” 

“Well, he’s a year younger than you, so that would be 27 mortal years, and - Oh,” Jisung said, sharp teeth digging into his lower lip. 

“Yes,” Chan nodded and turned back to his computer. “And you’re a fey. While not the most observant one, I dare say you would have noticed if our roommate had been switched out in the middle of the night. Fey glamour doesn’t work on either of us, remember,” he added, fingers fiddling with the golden chain around his neck. 

It was one of the many perks coming with the contract he shared with Jisung. 

“I mean, he could still be,” Jisung muttered sullenly, leaning back in his wicker chair, and poking at one of his plants. When he moved in, he had missed the fey realm and had decided that a corner of the room was his, meaning that the place was covered in moss, plants, and an old wicker chair Chan didn’t know the origins of. 

He just hoped Jisung hadn’t stolen it. 

As it was, the fey didn’t believe in the concept of money either, usually just taking what they needed and then haggling about what to trade the thing they wanted for, in case anyone even noticed anything was missing. Which, according to Jisung, was rarely. 

Object permanence wasn’t the fey’s strong suit. 

“Minho is still Minho, it’s just the kissing that’s new,” Chan said, staring down at the screen again, still seeing no pattern before him on the blank document. “Well, aside from the hugs.”

“And the massages,” Jisung added unhelpfully, collecting a potted pathos and draping its vines over his lap like a blanket. “The movie nights, the footsie when you eat, the way he sneaks into your room, and how you now sleep in the same bed more than you don’t.”

The bed arrangement was the thing making his life more difficult than usual. Minho was a really cute sleeper, but he was also a cuddler, and Chan kept waking up with his morning wood thoroughly pressed against Minho’s ass… and Minho always woke up before Chan. 

Meaning he knew.

Chan wasn’t enormous, but he was surely big enough that Minho wouldn’t miss him in all his engorged glory, pressing right into Minho’s ass, sometimes even humping him a little on one - or five -  mortifying occasions. 

It was embarrassing, and Chan took more cold showers than ever before. What was worse was that Minho didn’t even seem to mind, simply stretching out like a big cat, blinking cheekily at Chan when he made his escape to the bathroom. Hell, to Chan’s tired and horny brain, Minho looked a little sulky when Chan ran away. 

His shorts were also seemingly getting shorter and shorter, making it very hard for Chan not to ogle Minho’s bare thighs in the morning. Perhaps there was something wrong with their clothing line if it made Minho’s clothes shrink. 

“Don’t remind me,” Chan muttered, slamming his computer closed. It was giving him no answers anyway. “I just don’t know what happened to -” 

“Hello,” Minho greeted, the front door opening and the sound of small paws following. Chan looked down, hands already reaching out so Soonie, Doongie, and Dori could greet him. “I’m home,” he said happily as he joined his cats inside. 

Chan’s throat got a little dry at the sight of the cats rubbing against his hands, and he decided to instead look at Minho, but that was an even more heartbreaking decision. Minho was stunning. He was windswept from the outside, cheek flushed, and his eyes filled with mischief in a way that made Chan painfully aware of his pathetic crush. 

“Hello,” Jisung called from the chair in his green corner. “You went shopping,” he noticed, pointing at the bags in Minho’s hand.

“How nicely observed,” Minho praised with a roll of his eyes. “You would think the two of you solved crimes for a living,” he teased, leaning in to place a soft kiss on Chan’s lips. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“Hi,” Chan stuttered, floored by the compliment. 

“Hmm, tough case again?” Minho asked, leaving Chan frozen in place to put the bag on the dining table. 

“Yeah,” Chan said, smiling weakly. “Same as before. Doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”

“You’ll solve it,” Minho said with a bright smile and more confidence than Chan felt was warranted. “But until you do, I thought we might have a nice night in,” he suggested and revealed a bottle from his reusable shopping bags. “I got lamb chops, white wine for me, the expensive pineapple juice for you.”

“Oh,” Chan said, perking up immediately. “You’re making lamb?”

“I am,” Minho said, resting his weight against the table, and if Chan didn’t know any better, he would think Minho was flirting. “And for dessert, well…” 

Minho dug back into the bags, pulling out what looked like a sleeping mask and… earplugs?

“Earplugs?” Chan asked, confused. “Is it my snoring?” It couldn't be that he kept Minho up all night with his snoring, and that was why he was acting weird and kissing Chan. Was he delirious from lack of sleep?

“It’s not for us, silly,” Minho said, and Chan swore the sorcerer’s ears were a little red. “And your snoring isn’t a problem, Channie,” he reassured, gesturing towards the corner where Jisung was staring at both of them with wide eyes. “I was just thinking of Jisungie.”

“Me?” Jisung pointed at himself. “Why me?”

“I mean,” Minho started, his ears so red there wasn’t any doubt about it anymore. “So you can’t see or hear us la-”

Chan’s phone screeched loudly, causing all three of them to startle.

“Channie, you don’t have to… Oh, for fucks sake!” Minho cursed when Chan ignored the cats’ hissing as he grabbed his phone. “One night, Channie. One night where we just get to relax.”

“Bang here,” Chan replied, turning away slightly so he didn’t have to see Minho cross his arms in disappointment. 

“We need you, Chan,” Felix said on the other end of the line, his voice dark and serious. “It’s a lost Gumiho kit. The police are on it, but I think it’s the fey,” he explained, and Chan’s face soured. 

“What is it I shouldn’t see?” Jisung asked Minho, wings flicking with confusion. “You’re not that messy eaters.”

“You need Jisung’s help with this,” Chan said, ignoring the others behind him as Minho tried to explain that the eye mask was not for the dinner, but for something he had planned later. “We’ll be there in less than thirty,” he promised, writing down the address where the kit had last been seen while Jisung and Minho continued to argue about human versus fey eating etiquette behind him.

“We need to go,” Chan said as he hung up, Minho looking anything but happy as he turned around. “I’m so sorry, Minho, but will the lamb chops be okay for tomorrow? It’s a little kid. I can’t let a little kid suffer through something like this.”

“You’re too nice,” Minho sighed, but the annoyance seeped right out of his shoulder. “Yeah, rain check and all that shit tomorrow,” he said and threw the sleeping mask and earplugs on the table. “Go save the world,” he muttered, turning around and disappearing into the kitchen. 

Chan looked after him, confused, getting nothing but a glare from the familiars, as all three cats followed the sorcerer into the kitchen, where Minho was slamming the cabinets closed as he put away all the food.

“Why do I have the feeling that you just fucked up?” Jisung asked quietly, leaving behind his green oasis to stand by Chan. 

“I don’t know. We’ll have to talk when I get home,” Chan muttered, for the first time in his life feeling torn. A part of him wanted to go into the kitchen to talk things out with Minho straight away, but he knew there was a kid out there waiting to be found, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was the cause of them not being found faster. “Come on, we have a kit to find.”

The Gumiho kit was not taken by the fey. He had simply wandered away from his absent uncle, and because there was a fairy ring close by, the officers had gone haywire and gotten Chan and Jisung involved.

After a few hours of searching, securing the kit, delivering him to his parents, a full statement, and a long discussion about magic racial profiling with the police, Chan and Jisung finally made their way back to the apartment. 

Chan was beat and going by how Jisung’s wings drooped slightly, Chan wasn’t the only one who was exhausted. All the two of them wanted to do was return to their beds and go to sleep, but sadly, Jisung had bigger chances of actually getting any sleep than Chan did. Chan still felt a little wired up from chasing the kid through the forest and the constant annoyance of not knowing what was wrong with Minho.

“I think I’m going to sleep for a year,” Jisung muttered, puttering over to his corner of the living room before Chan had even gotten his shoes off. He looked more eerie than usual in the moonlight pouring through the window. “Can’t believe people still think the fey are kidnapping children.”

“We literally had a case of a fey kidnapped teenager last year,” Chan muttered, keeping his voice down as he put his hand to the door and activated the wards. 

Minho thought they were silly, but Chan wasn’t having anyone burst into his house in the middle of the night. Minho might not think anyone would dare attack a sorcerer from the Lee clan, but Chan, as a rule, didn’t trust the world. Hence why he had glamoured the apartment so that anyone walking past it would see nothing but bare walls. 

“That was not my court,” Jisung huffed, the wicker chair groaning as he sat down. 

“Still the fey,” Chan sighed and joined Jisung in the living room. He wasn’t surprised to find the place dark, only Dori staring at him from the doorway to his bedroom, telling him that Minho was in his bed. 

“Fey smey,” Jisung mocked, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. While Jisung didn’t need sleep, he did need to rest, and that was usually done best with him sitting alone in the dark just pondering. 

“See you tomorrow,” Chan said, too wiped out to talk more. He looked at Dori, glaring at him, barely moving as Chan came close. 

Jisung didn’t reply. He just waved at Chan and pulled on the sleeping mask Minho had left for him. 

“He was that mad, huh?” Chan whispered to Dori as the cat finally turned around, allowing Chan to enter the room. 

With the enhanced vision Chan got from his connection to Jisung, he could make out Minho’s familiar shape in the middle of the bed. Doongie and Soonie were lying next to him, like guardians ready to pounce at anyone daring enough to attack their master. Dori sent him a glare that told him he should be glad to be alive, and left him to go nap on Chan’s favorite hoodie that had been abandoned on the floor. 

Minho was rolled up into a ball under the duvet, whispering in his sleep. His body was tense, angry even in his sleep, and it just made Chan even more confused. 

It wasn’t the first time Chan had to call out for dinner. It wasn’t even the first time he had left Minho behind for work, so he didn’t understand why Minho had gotten so upset. It was just more things Chan could add to his list of peculiar happenings with Minho: the kissing, the sleeping in Chan’s bed when Minho had his own perfectly nice one in the other room, the favors… it was all giving Chan a headache. 

With one last look at Minho, Chan left to go wash up in the bathroom and get ready for bed. 

Chan wasn’t sure why, but once he returned, he almost expected Minho to be gone, and yet there he was, in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. The cats had all moved, hiding out in their favored sleeping positions and getting their fur all over Chan’s clothing just to annoy him. It was an easy fix to remove it with magic, but Chan knew they did it on purpose. They were Minho’s familiars after all, and since Minho acted like he owned Chan, so did his cats. 

Being dressed in nothing but his boxers still felt awkward for Chan when Minho was in his bed, but Chan would die from overheating if he wore more layers. And, well, he had a feeling that if he left Minho in his bed and went to sleep on the couch, Minho might actually explode. 

Telling himself it wasn’t the first time, Chan pulled the blanket back and slipped into the bed right beside Minho. His hand grazed Minho’s arm accidentally, and Chan froze, praying to whatever higher entity that he hadn’t stirred Minho awake. 

To his demise, whatever luck he might have had throughout his life, decided to run out at that moment.

“Chan?” Minho muttered and turned towards Chan, eyes still closed, and lips pursed in displeasure. He looked adorable, sweet and soft, and Chan wanted to lean in and kiss him. “That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Minho-yah” Chan whispered, trying to wiggle into what little space Minho had left him. “Just go back to sleep,” he urged, pretty sure Minho was still mostly sleeping. He usually said the oddest things when they were in bed and half asleep, even telling Chan he loved him multiple times. 

Most of the time, Chan got him to fall back asleep before too many love confessions made it out of him in his unconscious state. It wasn’t like he meant anything he said while being mostly asleep, so Chan never held it against him. At worst, Chan confessed his own love, happy to know Minho wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

“What time is it?” Minho asked and blinked his eyes open. He dug his hand free from under the pillows and raked his fingers through his purple hair, the strands falling in a disarray around his face.

“Late,” Chan replied, tugging the blanket back up over Minho and tucking him back in. “Just go back to sleep, Minho-yah.”

“Did you find the kit?” Minho asked, already sounding much more aware of himself, and Chan sighed, clearly failing in getting him to fall back asleep. “Was it the fey?”

“Nah, the kid just wandered off. His uncle wasn’t watching him as he should and spotted a fairy ring. It was all just a misunderstanding,” Chan said, unable to stop himself from reaching in to brush the hair away from Minho’s eyes. “It’s all fine. Sungie and I found him, got him home, all three tails intact.”

“Hmm, I knew you would find him,” Minho said, words muffled by a yawn. “You’re the best detective, even if you’re an asshole.”

“An asshole?” Chan repeated, a little amused as Minho wiggled back, making more space for him on the bed. 

“Yeah, asshole,” Minho muttered, smushing his face into his pillow. Chan knew it was one he had picked up from his own room due to the rouge color of the cover. All Chan’s pillows were a muted blue. “I was going to cook you dinner and make it all romantic, and then you just ran off, even if they didn’t need you.”

“But the kit-” 

“Was lost,” Minho said, blinking once more and looking much more awake. “The police can handle that on their own. They just use you because you’re faster than them and you’re too nice to accept compensation.”

“I am not-”

“How much did Felix pay you for spending a whole night in a forest looking for a kid? Alone with Jisung?” Minho asked, voice sharper than any of his knives. 

“Jisung got a jar of organic honey,” Chan answered meekly and averted his gaze. He knew he should bill Felix for the hours he spent working for the police, but he just never got around to it. Felix would do it; Chan knew that, but it was awkward to ask your friend to pay you for helping out.

“Yeah, and all you got is a whole night doing the job Felix thought his officers were doing,” Minho said and rolled his eyes. “They most likely told Felix they helped you with the search, when we both know they were all busy drinking coffee, because why help when the magical detective is on the case. You’re permitting them to take advantage of you, Chan, and you’re too kind to admit it.”

“I am not a magical detective,” Chan protested, using the excuse of fluffing up his pillow to not meet Minho’s exasperated gaze. “And it was much faster that I did it.”

“You’re telling me that you alone searching a whole forest would be faster than thirty guys doing the same?” Minho asked, always the critical one. Then again, Minho hadn’t grown up around humans; the Lee clan kept him hidden until he was old enough to live on his own. 

He didn’t understand how Chan felt useful when he helped with cases like this. 

Sorcerers didn’t do anything for free. Hell, to them, doing anything sweet and selfless was more of a love declaration than anything. 

“No, but it was a child,” Chan insisted with a pout. 

“Yeah, and last week it was a stolen bag, the week before that a suspected thief, and the week before that it was a possible ghost that turned out to be a vindictive ex,” Minho sighed, reaching out to grasp Chan’s hand. 

His touch was warm compared to Chan’s hands that were still chill from the many hours outside.

“I’m not angry,” Minho reassured. “I’m just frustrated that other people are using you like this, Channie. You deserve more than to be someone’s easy way out. You’re really good at your job, but Felix’s officers can’t keep claiming to see fairy rings and mystical footprints, knowing you will come running to do their work for them. You need to know your worth, Chan, and this isn’t it.”

“Minho…” Chan sighed, not knowing how to protest something he knew to be true. 

“I know,” Minho said, affection coloring his tone. “You’re just too fucking nice, Chan,” he added, hand tightening around Chan’s. “And that’s what makes you the most amazing person in the world.”

Chan’s heart jumped around uselessly when Minho pushed up and kissed him, soft, chaste, and so sweet it hurt. It was just a press of his lips against Chan’s, a little off center and more to the corner of Chan’s mouth, and yet it was far more intimate than all the other kisses they shared before. 

Perhaps it was because he was tired, or due to the late hour, or maybe it was because Chan felt Jisung’s magic, wild and restless in his veins, but the words he had been holding back for months finally spilled out of him. 

“You need to stop doing that. You’re sending me mixed signals,” Chan said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ll misunderstand them, and I don’t want to end up being wrong,” he added, vulnerable and raw. 

It wouldn’t take much for Minho to see that Chan loved him, that he had always loved him a little since Minho bumped into him one day, asking why in the world Chan had tied himself to a fey and then promptly befriended both of them. 

“How am I sending mixed signals?” Minho asked, frowning as he looked at Chan. He was so close, and even in the dark, Chan could make out the confusion marring his features.

“Why do you do that?” Chan said, frowning back at Minho, cursing himself for not being able to keep silent anymore. He was just so tired of getting what he wanted in the worst of ways. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Do what?” Minho asked, looking close to tears as he pulled back, so he was sitting up, facing Chan. “You’re not making any sense, Channie. What am I-”

“Kissing me,” Chan cut him off, voice breaking a little. “Why do you keep kissing me?”

“What do you mean?” Minho asked, looking more worried than confused. “Are you okay, Channie?” He added, his magic drifting over Chan like a gentle caress as it searched for injuries. “Why would it be weird that I am kissing my boyfriend? I thought you liked me kissing you?”

“Boyfriend?” Chan repeated, the noun hitting him like a piano dropping from the sky. “What do you mean boyfriend?”

Minho blinked rapidly, looking torn between being concerned and angry… and also very, very confused. 

Chan could relate. 

“Yes! Boyfriend!” Minho said sternly, brows inching closer and forming lines of puzzlement on his forehead. “Did you hit your head or something?” He asked, reaching out to touch Chan. “Like, do you humans not kiss your boyfriends? I thought that was perfectly normal.”

“Since when have we been dating?” Chan blurted, staring down at Minho’s hand, the last few months looking a lot different. The kissing, the massages, the dinners, the fixed chair, the co-sleeping, hell, even Minho trying to sneak into Chan’s showers was starting to make sense… but Chan hadn’t asked Minho out, and he sure as hell would have noticed if Minho had made a move on him. 

“Since I asked you to be my boyfriend and accompany me to visit my parents?” Minho answered, his expression turning from confusion to anger. “Chan, please tell me this is an elaborate joke,” he begged, voice tight as the air in the room warmed from his anger, the cats all jumping up and leaving the room upon sensing the disturbance. 

“But that was in October?” Chan said breathlessly. It was all coming together inside his head, the pieces that had seemed impossible to connect falling into place, revealing a very telling picture… and pointed very violently in the direction of Chan being a huge idiot. “We’ve been dating for 5 months?” He squeaked, looking at Minho as he withdrew his hand from Chan’s.

“Yes, you idiot! Why would I, a member of the Lee family, bring home someone if I wasn’t actually dating them!” Minho hissed, pulling at the blanket to cover himself, his ears burning. “Fucking hell, Chan, you’re telling me you didn’t know we’ve been dating for months?”

Chan’s stomach twisted; the complete picture resembled a certain Norwegian artist’s shrieking rather than the mystery Chan had thought it to be. 

“I thought it was to stop your mom from asking about when you’d ask out your hot roommate,” Chan rushed, voice on the wrong side of thrill. If there even was a right side. 

Minho’s eyes narrowed, and the whole room got even warmer, and, Chan, well, he seemingly finally connected the right dots. 

“Oh? OH! Holy shit,” Chan uttered, the final piece of the horrid puzzle falling into place. “I’m the hot roommate?”

“You’re about to be my newly evicted, very dead roommate if you keep this up,” Minho hissed, the anger slowly morphing into mortification. “I can’t believe this. I thought we had something deep and meaningful going on. I’ve kissed you, made you dinner, and told my clients about the sexy warlock I’m dating. We’ve been going out for weekly dates for months.”

“But we never…” Chan glanced down at himself, realizing they were kinda in bed together. Like a couple. Chan was nearly fully undressed, and Minho was only in his nightclothes. There wasn’t anything remotely platonic about it. “We’ve never had, you know, we haven’t done anything.”

“No, because you never made a move!” Minho hissed, yanking the duvet even higher up around himself, even though he was wearing both a t-shirt and shorts underneath and was way more covered than Chan. “I’ve been trying to seduce you for months,” he added, desperate. “But one wrong look and off to the bathroom you go. What do you think tonight was about? Bingo?”

“You have?” Chan said weakly. “But…”

“Every time I try to cop a feel, you get all weird and run off, and then if I kiss you too hard, you get all flustered and run away. I was hoping you’d just get off on my ass by yourself so we could at least breach the discussion, but nope, off to the bathroom you go, avoiding me like a puppy who peed on the floor. I was even considering just getting undressed and sitting here in a pile of rose petals, with a bow around my waist, hoping you got the hint, but too afraid that would make you try and ship yourself to Timbuktu,” Minho replied, cheeks perfectly flushed and his pretty boba eyes very disappointed. 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you about accepting that you’re ace so we could at least be on the same page about it,” Minho said, burying his head in the blanket. “But, no, you apparently don’t want to sleep with me, because apparently I have been solo running this relationship,” he muttered, not even the blanket hiding the mortification in his voice. “I can’t believe this.”

“I am not ace,” Chan said weakly, still feeling like Alice hurtling down a never-ending tunnel of doom. “I mean, demi, sure, but I don’t mind sex. It’s cool enough in small quantities.”

With Minho, Chan might even like it in bigger quantities. Who the hell knew? 

“Yeah, I figured that you just didn’t want to sleep with me, but not because you didn’t know we were dating, you morron!” Minho shouted, even his cheeks getting red as the magic danced angrily around the room. 

“How was I supposed to know?” Chan protested, scratching his head and feeling like an idiot. He loved Minho, had been in love with him for ages, and here he was, having had all he wanted without even being aware of it. 

“You were the one who asked me out!” Minho screamed, and Chan was eternally grateful that he had also glamoured the apartment to be soundproof. “You absolute idiot,” he added with a sneer, and Chan pulled back a little, pretty sure that if Minho hadn’t been busy protecting his modesty, he would be in the midst of strangling Chan. 

“When did I-”

“When that asshole stood me up before Halloween,” Minho said and buried his face in his knees. “I had been looking so much forward to that concert and the guy never showed and-”

“I offered to go with you,” Chan said, recalling the day Minho was talking about. 

Chan had been ecstatic that the guy Minho had been trying to go out with stood him up, leaving Chan to jump in like a knight in shining armour to whisk Minho away. He had planned to confess, to lay his heart out to Minho that night, and… then they got there, and Chan had a drink to settle his nerves, another for courage, and another to calm his heart rate, and ended up not confessing a thing. 

Chan had awoken in his bed the next day, alone and a little hungover, but with Minho singing in the kitchen, so in Chan’s world, everything had been alright. 

“You were so nice that night, acting like the perfect guy,” Minho said, voice a little weak all of a sudden. “I just… I had a crush on you for so long, but you never acted as if you liked me at all. That night, you were so attentive. You- You were so fucking perfect I almost confessed to you five times, and then we got home, you were all suave,” he added, voice cracking. “Asked me if I had liked the test run of how it was to have you as a boyfriend, and if I was ready to commit to the real deal and get the full membership deal.”

“I said that?” Chan whined, pretty sure that had all been a mental slip he had hoped stayed inside his head.

Apparently, it hadn’t.

“Yeah, you did,” Minho confirmed with a deadly glower that would have killed Chan if he weren’t magically connected to an immortal fey. “And then you kissed me till my knees were weak.”

Looking at it like that, Chan would have to admit, he couldn't exactly fault Minho for thinking they were dating. 

“I can’t believe this,” Minho said, shoulders sinking in tune with his anger ebbing out and the room cooling. He looked so small curled up on Chan’s bed, hiding in the duvet like the whole world was crashing down around his ears. “I’ll have to call my mother and tell her you won’t come for midsummer. Shit, my aunt will ask about you, and I’ll have to make up an excuse,” he rambled, staring into the dark, looking devastated. “I can’t tell them I was delusional enough to think we were dating when we weren’t. Fuck, I’ve been kissing you for months. Been feeling you up like… Fuck!”

“Minho,” Chan said, trying to reach out to comfort his… friend? Boyfriend? Secret lover?

One look from Minho made Chan’s hand fall back to the bed as if he had been burned. No touching it was. 

“You do not get to touch me right now,” Minho hissed, scooting even further away. “You have no idea how embarrassed I am. I thought we truly had something special, Chan. I've been giving you my heart for months. This is - was the best relationship I ever had. For crying out loud, Chan, I told you I love you. Fuck, you kept saying it back with that stupid bromance attitude.”

“Well, I do love you,” Chan insisted, a little feeble. “And not just as a bro.”

“Please, Chan, not right now,” Minho mumbled, shaking his head. “You do not get to tell me you love me right now. I don’t want to hear it,” he pleaded, voice a little thick, and Chan watched with absolute horror as a single tear made its way down Minho’s cheek. “I am going to bed. My bed. Then we can talk in the morning.”

“Minho,” Chan tired, the horror growing as another tear tumbled down Minho’s other cheek.

“I will find another place to live, don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask you to uproot Jisung,” Minho said, more tears beginning to roll down his cheek, even if the rest of him remained perfectly poised as he scooted out of the bed, taking the duvet with him. “Perhaps in a few months I can… no, I can’t. I-”

“I’ve been in love with you since we met!” Chan blurted, his mouth quicker than his brain at realizing that if Minho left, Chan would actually lose him. “I love you, not as a friend, not as a roommate, not as a fucking bro, but as the love of my life,” he confessed, staring at Minho frozen in place. “I think that’s why I haven’t been able to figure out why you were kissing me, because the idea of you wanting to be with me, a human shackled to a fey for a good chunk of my life with only a questionable career to show for-”

“Stop selling yourself short,” Minho cut him off. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t leaving Chan behind, which was enough to encourage Chan to keep on talking. 

“I can’t believe you love me, because I have spent so long loving you. It’s like second nature to me at this point to adore you from a distance and take everything you’re willing to give me without thinking that I could take something for myself,” Chan said, grasping for words to convey to Minho how much he meant to him. Minho couldn’t leave, he couldn’t move out. Chan would never see him again, and Chan would die if that happened. Without Minho, there could be no Chan. “The idea that someone as gorgeous and perfect as you wanted to be with me must have been too much.”

“Chan-”

“No, Minho-yah, I know you’re hurt,” Chan said, his body catching up as he threw himself over the bed, grabbing ahold of Minho’s arm through the duvet, keeping him from leaving. “I know I'm an idiot and I will happily use the rest of my life atoning for all the hurt I have caused you, but please listen to me.” 

Minho stood frozen, but Chan wasn’t being flung across the room, which was a huge feat. 

“I love you, Minho,” Chan said, not allowing himself to waver before the boba eyes of doom. Chan knew he had one chance. One. “I love you with all my heart, with every fiber of my body. You’re the light of my life, the comfort I seek when my job gets too hard. You’re the reason I get up some mornings, and I love you. Give me another chance, and I’ll prove to you how much I want to be with you.”

“Channie,” Minho whimpered, and Chan practically tasted the salt from his tears in the air. 

“Please, I might not have known we were dating for five months, but we were. You weren’t an idiot. I just refused to see it because I didn’t dare accept what was evidently right in front of me,” Chan insisted and found the courage to pull Minho towards him and away from the door. 

Minho stumbled into him, and Chan didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him. He guided them back to the bed and sat both of them down, clinging to Minho, desperate for him not to leave.

“I’ll be honored to go with you to midsummer,” Chan murmured into the side of Minho’s head, his purple strands tickling his face as he spoke. “I’ll be happy to grovel at your feet, and I’ll gladly do whatever you ask, just please. I’m begging you, give me a chance to show you how good of a boyfriend I can be when I put my whole heart into it.”

“Channie,” Minho whispered, and Chan held him tighter, afraid Minho might turn to smoke in his arms. “I can’t-”

“Minho, please, I am begging you,” Chan said, pressing his head into Minho’s neck. “And I rarely beg.”

“You begged Jisung,” Minho reminded him, trembling in Chan’s arms.

“Not like this,” Chan said, holding Minho so tight he was sure it had to hurt. “Please.”

“One chance,” Minho whispered after what felt like a small eternity of silence. “Only one, Chan.”

“I understand,” Chan exhaled, nodding into the crook of Minho’s neck. “That’s all I need, Minho. One chance.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Minho said, shoulders slowly relaxing into Chan’s embrace. “I will kill you if you do,” he swore and allowed Chan to pull him back onto the mattress. 

“I’ll sharpen the knife myself,” Chan said solemnly, turning Minho around. He looked beautiful, eyes like the star-littered sky, tears like liquid moonlight still pooling in his eyes, and Chan loved him. 

And, most importantly, Minho loved Chan. 

Without thinking, Chan leaned in and pressed his lips against Minho’s, soft and reverent. Minho returned the kiss, the taste of salt like heartbreak on Chan’s tongue.

“I love you, Lee Minho,” Chan said, each word a vow to do better, to atone, to make it all correct again, pressed into Minho’s lips. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Minho sniffled, more tears falling down his cheeks. “I guess I will.” 

Minho looked divine, buried in Chan’s sheets. His hair fanned over the pillow, his eyes barely open, and with the cats spread out around him like guardians. On his neck, a few bruises were visible from where Chan had sucked his adoration and desire into his skin. 

Not that it had gotten Chan far, because even after a month of trying to win back Minho, Chan had only succeeded in getting Minho’s shirt off. He had managed to convince Minho that he might be demi, but that he certainly didn’t dislike sex as long as it involved him and Minho and nothing else. 

“Breakfast,” Chan sang, smiling brightly as he placed a tray over Minho’s lap. While he wasn’t close to Minho’s cooking skills, Chan was still fairly competent in a kitchen, and he would use every ounce of culinary talent he possessed to make sure Minho ate as many good meals as possible. “I made steamed eggs,” he announced, walked around the bed, and settled at Minho’s side. 

He made quick work of initiating a good morning kiss, keeping it short and cute so they didn’t get lost in each other and end up spilling the food all over the bed. Again.

“You know you don’t have to keep making me breakfast in bed, right?” Minho said even though he was smiling, telling Chan he was doing the right thing to make up for his massive fuck up. 

“I have a lot to make up for,” Chan said, picking up his own bowl of rice. He crossed his legs and made himself comfortable to watch Minho eat. It was becoming his favorite part of their new routine, one that helped with the itchiness of getting Jisung to fetch his laptop so he would get to work. “Gotta make sure you choose the premium membership and not just the free trial.” 

“Hmm, and does that come with free breakfast every weekend or only as compensation for fuck ups?” Minho asked, in a sugary sweet voice, and took the spoon from the tray.

“Well, the good thing about the premium program is that it’s highly adaptable. Whatever your needs are, I will provide," Chan said, smiling into his rice. “It’s very easy to add or discard features.”

“So if I wanted you to walk around naked all the time, that could be arranged?” Minho wondered innocently, effectively making Chan choke on his food.

“He already does!” Jisung called from the other room. Chan had paid him to stay there with two whole heads of broccoli for him to munch on. “Maybe add in a clause about him at least wearing underwear!”

“Jisung!” Chan coughed, ears burning bright red. 

“He is kinda right,” Minho shrugged, smirking as he took a sip of his soup. “God thing I like you naked though.”

“Don’t tell him you like him naked, too,” Jisung yelled from the other room. “That’s what the people on reddit are saying.”

“Jisung!” Chan yelled, feeling like dying a little. He regretted ever telling that damn fey how a computer worked. With any luck, there would be grass growing between the keys any day now.

“I’m beginning to see why I was given earplugs now,” Jisung said, the sound of furious typing following. “Who will save me when the two of you actually start to fu-”

“Jisung, I will send you back to the fairy realm so fast your wings will fall off!” Chan snapped, sitting up and glaring at the living room. 

Jisung had promised to behave, though given they had been talking in circles, Chan should have known better than to accept anything but a direct promise. 

“I was going to say, fundamentalize your growing affection into a healthy, strong, and dedicated relationship, which you both deserve,” Jisung snickered from his mossy corner. “But do continue, I just found a post about winning over stubborn people. I’m sure they will have advice to help me score Jeongin.”

“You know, once he figures out Innie is ignoring him because he likes him, he is going to be impossible,” Minho muttered under his breath. “It’ll only get worse when he is introduced to Hyunjin.”

“Don’t remind me,” Chan groaned, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. “I will ban them all from this place. If they want to fuck they can do so at Innie’s place.”

“I’m pretty sure that can be arranged,” Minho grinned, settling back into eating his breakfast. 

Chan followed suit, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

“So this upgrade of the boyfriend subscription,” Minho said after a while, staring very intently at his mostly empty bowl. “Is there an option that involves pudding?” 

Chan’s heart began to beat faster.

“Yes,” Chan croaked, staring straight ahead, almost afraid to breathe. “There is pudding on the premium subscription.”

“Kisses when I come home? Foot rubs? Emptying of the kitty litter?” Minho asked, almost carefully nonchalant. “Sex?”

“I already help with the cats,” Chan said, a little breathless. “Foot rubs whenever you want, and the more exclusive deal comes with all the kisses you would want,” he added, putting the bowl down so he wouldn’t send it flying. “As for sex, well, the premium deal has it in… I mean, you cannot have missed how much I want you.”

“This is a big deal for me,” Minho reminded him, putting his bowl down. The cats got up and stretched before they left them alone, while Minho placed the tray on the floor. “I do not love lightly,” he added, turning to face Chan. “And I do not accept this to be a miscommunication again.”

“I love you,” Chan said, staring hopelessly at Minho. “And, you know, I don’t love with anything but my whole heart.”

“You’re a terrible softie,” Minho muttered, but the smile on his face made Chan’s chest feel less tight. “So, this deal,” he added, eyes sparkling. “Can I sign up for an exclusive, deeply committed, adoring, loving boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Chan said, beginning to smile as he leaned in, hovering closer to Minho. “Just know we do not accept returns,” he added, quelling Minho’s laughter with his lips as he kissed him.

Chan could get used to this, and now he had a reason to dream it might be permanent.

“Your family is terrifying,” Chan said the moment Minho closed the door to the small closet. He spelled it locked, and Chan slumped against the wall, thankful that his boyfriend was skilled enough to make a distraction big enough to permit both of them to sneak away and get a moment of solitude. “Deeply disturbed and terrifying,” he added, eyes wide as he pulled Minho into his arms.

“They’re the same people you met last year,” Minho giggled and happily accepted Chan’s proposal of a hug and clung to him in the cramped closet. “They haven’t changed much.”

“Yes, but last time they just ignored us,” Chan whined, burying his nose in Minho’s neck and breathing in the scent of vanilla that clung to his skin. “This time they’re all talking about how to dispose of a body and how many ways sorcerers can torture you without leaving a shred of evidence. They’re terrifying!”

“Well, last time they thought I was testing you,” Minho said, holding Chan close and rubbing his back in comfort. They couldn’t stay in there for too long, and Chan needed as much encouragement as he could before facing the Lee family again. “Having brought you here again… well, it can only mean one thing in their eyes.”

“Minho-yah,” Chan said, well-versed in Minho-speech to recognize what that tone meant. He pulled back slightly and looked directly into Minho’s eyes. “No secrets, remember,” he added, narrowing his eyes. “I even told you about all my embarrassing accidents from when Jisung and I were working on our shared magic. You don’t have to hide anything with me.”

“It means- It means I’m serious about you,” Minho muttered, cheeks dusted with a pink blush. “Like, tying the knot levels of serious,” he added in a hushed voice. “Bringing you once was a clear proof of my intentions, but taking you again, Chan, my love, you might as well have taken my last name already.”

“Oh,” Chan said, trying not to smile too widely. 

The last few months had been great, better than Chan expected, but he had thought that perhaps he was getting a little ahead of himself. It was somehow nice to know he wasn’t the only one of the two of them who saw them as being a lifetime kinda thing. 

“My mother hasn’t stopped talking about how important it is to act, how you would look lovely in the family tree and all my aunts have been talking none stop about how lovely it would be a to have an autumn wedding in the family and my grandmother has offered up her house for us to live in,” Minho said, shaking his head. “They might threaten you, but they adore you.”

“Well, I suppose the death threats are just to make sure they understand that I love you,” Chan said with a small shrug. To have Minho in his life was worth it. He would overcome this as well.

“Yeah, Auntie has been telling me how much it would benefit the family to have access to more fey magic,” Minho huffed, leaning back into hug Chan. “They definitely appreciate you.”

“Well, aside from the death threats, it’s not too bad,” Chan said, relaxing into Minho’s hold and wondering how he ever lived without all of this. “I suppose I could get used to it. We should bring Sungie next year - he would like the flowers.”

“We should,” Minho nodded, his smile pressed into Chan’s neck. “Then Jeongin wouldn’t be pouting all the time,” he said and resumed rubbing Chan’s back, both of them knowing this quiet moment wasn’t going to last.

In a while, they would have to go back out there and face Minho’s family again. The night was still young, and apparently, sorcerers didn’t sleep on midsummer night, staying up with the sun to keep it company. 

“So,” Chan said, his mouth running too fast for his brain, which he was going to blame fully on Minho’s uncles for having him taste their home-brewed Bokbunja-ju. “Do you want to change your plan and subscribe to the premium life-long membership?”

“Are you doing a fake proposal because I am not going through with that,” Minho said, pulling back and glaring at Chan. “Thinking we were dating when we weren’t was bad, thinking we’re engaged when we’re not will make me kill you, Chan-ah.”

“I- no,” Chan couched, ignoring the ring he had hidden in his pocket. Jeongin had helped him pick it out, and then he and Jisung had made a few changes to make it perfect for Minho. “I mean, if you don’t-”

“Chan, I would happily marry you, right now, right here in this closet if you wanted to, but given everything, I just have to make sure,” Minho said, voice softening slightly and his eyes glimmering with stars. “Because there is nothing I want more than the exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime husband membership plan.”

“Well, good thing we have a midsummer deal on that,” Chan said a little breathless, already wondering if he could get Minho alone later. Proposing under the summer sun, surrounded by flowers would be romantic. 

“Oh,” Minho said, beginning to smile at Chan’s antics. “What kind of deal?”

“Well, it’s down to one kiss,” Chan said, his heart pounding at the thought that he got to have this, Minho, their relationship, all of it. “But you have to hurry, it’s a limited time kinda deal.”

“Well, then,” Minho said, smirking as he leaned in. “I suppose I’ll have to be quick then,” he whispered, pressed his lips against Chan’s, and kissed him truly breathless.