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Minho finds his spot on the floor next to Changbin and sighed. They lay on their backs on the cold hardwood floor of their living room, both exhausted from the events of their day. They’d just moved into their new apartment, and the two men spent the day unpacking. Most of the major pieces of furniture haven’t arrived yet, explaining the emptiness of the living room.
“I’m hungry,” Minho spoke into the echoey room, a hint of a whine in his voice.
Changbin merely grunted, closing his eyes. He was sweaty all over, his forehead was wet and the cold floor felt amazing on his warm skin.
“Hey, I said I’m hungry.”
“Mmm, and I’m hot,” Changbin replied. He hears Minho huff from beside him and snorts, rolling his head to the side to peek at his boyfriend. Minho’s pouting, as expected, and he’s also sweaty. His bags stick to his forehead and his cheeks are a little flushed. “You’re pretty, hyung.”
Minho rolls his eyes, trying (and failing) to hide the flustered smirk that crawls onto his face. “Shut up. Do we have any food? I’m starving.”
“I don’t know how, I did all the work today,” Changbin sasses, letting his eyes shut again. He can feel the skin of his back starting to stick from the floor where his tank top rolled up, and it makes him wince.
“What do you mean how, I haven’t eaten all day, that’s how. Are you going to feed me or not? Am I just supposed to lay here in this heat and starve?” Minho asks, straining his voice to mimic being on the verge of tears. “We just moved in together and this is how you treat me? Should I call Chan-hyung back so he can help me move back out? I haven’t unpacked all of my things, it won’t take long-”
“Alright!” Changbin shouts, sitting up abruptly. His sweaty back peels off the floor with a gross sticky noise, making Minho wince. He turns towards his boyfriend with a glare, rolling his eyes when Minho pouts. “If I get you food, will you relax? No more threatening to leave me alone, hm?”
“Yeah- wait. Turn the fan on, too. Then I'll stop.”
“What fan? We don’t have a fan yet.”
Minho groans. “We do! It’s in the box over there,” he points to the tall cardboard box that’s resting against the wall. “Yongbokkie got it for us, don’t you remember?”
Changbin follows his finger and, low and behold, the fan box is there. “Oh. Alright, I’ll turn the fan on and get you food. Better? No more whining?” He turns back to Minho and lifts a hand to wipe the sweat off of his face, letting his palm linger on his warm cheek for a moment.
“Hmm, no promises. Now go! Before I pass out from a heat stroke,” Minho grins, giggling when Changbin stands with a groan.
Changbin stretches his arms out and cracks his back, then wrestles with the cardboard box to get the standing fan out. He plugs it into the outlet closest to Minho and faces it towards him. The air is cool, and Minho instantly breathes a sigh of relief.
“Good?” Changbin asks.
“Great, good job. Now turn around and go that way, into the kitchen. Find hyung some food and I’ll give you a massage as a treat.” Minho sighs, closing his eyes. The air from the fan is blowing his hair in every direction, and he looks a bit like a dandelion.
Changbin gets to the kitchen and places his hands on his hips. “Minho-hyung, we don’t have any food. We never went to the supermarket!” He groans, dragging his palms down his cheeks.
“Welp, no massage for you then,” Minho teases. “Is there anything in there? Anything at all? An ant? A dust bunny?”
Changbin checks some more cabinets and gasps when he opens the last one. “There’s a bottle of wine! We can have some of this, and I’ll order food. How’s that sound?” He asks, grabbing the bottle and settling back onto the floor next to Minho.
“I guess it’ll do. I would’ve liked a dust bunny, though.”
“You have me, I’m a better bunny, right?” Changbin asks, puffing his cheeks out and poking a finger into one of them, batting his eyelashes down at Minho who’s still laid out on the floor.
“You’re a pig, jagi.”
“Oink. You can get the first sip, since you’re just so thirsty,” Changbin teases, holding the bottle out for Minho. He opened it with the bottle opener, also courtesy of Felix, so Minho doesn’t have to do any work.
Minho sits himself up, finally, and takes the bottle. He takes a long swig, some of it dribbling down his chin as he drinks. He wipes it off with the back of his hand and passes the bottle over to Changbin’s waiting hand.
“That was a lot, hyung,” he comments before taking a drink himself.
Minho shrugs. “I need to fill my empty stomach somehow, gimme,” he paws for the bottle again. He takes another sip, this one so large it makes his cheeks bulge when he pulls the glass away from his lips.
“Hyung!” Changbin gasps, making Minho snort. He has to turn his face away to stop himself from laughing and spitting red wine everywhere, and Changbin giggles for him. “What’s your deal, huh?”
“I wanna celebrate, live a little,” Minho replies, laying back down on his back. He looks at Changbin, then at the bottle, and smiles. “C’mon, let’s celebrate. Take another sip and lay down with me.”
Changbin hums. “I thought you wanted to eat? I was gonna order food…”
Minho waves a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about the food. Jus’ lay with me, baby.” He lets the hand fall, stretching his arm out for Changbin to lay on.
Changbin fills his cheeks with wine, swallowing it down and closing the bottle before settling his head on Minho’s waiting arm. They’re in the same position as before, but now they’re both comfortable. The fan is blowing the perfect amount of air onto them, and the wine is leveling out the cold by warming them up just under their skin.
They lay quietly for a few minutes, comfortable enough with each other to not need constant conversation. The sun is setting, and the deep orange rays of light bleed through the big, naked windows of the apartment. They should really get some curtains.
“Hyung?” Changbin’s voice fills Minho’s ear after another moment. The sun is down, and they’re in the dark. The city lights try their best to illuminate the empty living room, but they only manage to cast a shadow over the faces of the two new tenants.
Minho hums, low and slow. He cracks an eye open and turns his head to try and look at Changbin. When his eyes catch his boyfriend’s eyes, he hums again, prompting him to continue.
“Are you sure?” Changbin asks.
“Sure about what?”
“About us. Living together. Are you sure it’s what you want?”
Minho shifts his head further so he can see all of Changbin’s face. His eyebrows are furrowed just a little, and his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth. Even in the low light he’s beautiful, and Minho can’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss him.
“There. Does that answer your question?” He asks, lifting his free hand to rest his palm over his boyfriend’s chest. His heart is racing, and Minho smiles.
Changbin frowns. “No, not really. You could like kissing me and hate living with me.”
“True, true. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I love kissing you, and I’m sure I’ll love living with you, too,” Minho says, grinning at the thought of kissing Changbin. He leans over and kisses him again, shoving his lips against his cheeks before sitting up.
“That does make me feel better,” Changbin mumbles, sitting up as well.
They’re cross-legged on the floor, in the dark. The steady hum of the fan echoes through the empty room, blowing wind in their hair. Minho stares at Changbin, squinting in the low light. He’s got bags under his eyes, and his upper eyelids droop a little. Whether it’s from the wine or fatigue, Minho doesn’t know.
“Why do you ask? Is something bothering you?” He asks.
“No, jus’ thinking,” Changbin replies. “Wouldn’t want to unpack all our stuff and then have you ditch me.”
Minho giggles, and Changbin’s shoulders relax. “I won’t ditch you, promise,” he grabs the bottle of wine again, pulling the cork out and taking another drink. This one is closer to a chug, and he chokes a little as he swallows it down.
“Minho-hyung! Be careful-”
“Shuddup, here, take a sip. Stop all that thinking, s’making you sound sad n’ sulky.” He shoves the bottle into Changbin’s small hand, muffling a burp into the back of his own hand.
Changbin snickers, taking the bottle. He doesn’t want to be left behind, so he takes a couple more drinks, stopping when he runs out of breath. He looks over at Minho, who’s watching him with a stupid, crooked grin on his face.
“What? You drunk already?”
“No! Can’t I look at my han’sum boyfriend? Is that sucha crime?” Minho giggles, slapping Changbin on the shoulder. His giggles increase tenfold when Changbin gives a dramatic reaction, holding his shoulder and wincing. “Oh stop! I barely touched you!”
Changbin intensifies his pout, batting his eyelashes. “You did, you’re heavy handed. Gimme, I want another sip, you’re hogging the bottle.”
Minho pulls it away before he can reach it, stealing another sip before handing it over. Changbin takes another drink, then closes the bottle. “It’s almost finished, you hog,” he sulks. “Turn the light on, it’s dark in here.”
“Why? You scared, huh? The monsters gonna get you?” Minho asks, widening his eyes before bursting into another fit of giggles. He can feel the buzz beneath his skin and behind his eyes, tickling him all over.
Changbin huffs, standing on wobbly feet and shuffling to the balcony door. He fiddles with the lock for a moment, stepping out onto the balcony once he gets the door open. He rests his arms on the railing, leaning his weight onto it and breathing in the warm city air.
“Changbinnie!” Minho’s high pitched voice sounds from the living room. His whining gets louder and clearer, until it’s right next to Changbin’s ear. “Bin, how dare you leave me like that?! W-What if the monsters got me?!”
Changbin cracks, letting out a strain of his own giggles. He pulls Minho into his side, holding him by the waist and resting his head on his shoulder. Minho’s the perfect height to be used as a headrest, and Changbin never lets the opportunity go to waste.
“Awe, you love me?” Minho mumbles. He wraps his own arms around Changbin, squeezing their cheeks together with a squeal.
“Of course I love you, silly.”
“More than the gym?” Minho asks, suddenly serious. He tries to harden his face, but he only looks like a sulky kitten.
“Yes, I love you more than the gym, hyung.”
“Good, what about pasta? Do you love me more than pasta?”
“Mhm.”
“More than sex? If I asked you to fuck me right here right now, would you?” Minho slurs, squishing his cheek against his boyfriends. He stares out at the city below them, trailing the cars down the streets with his eyes.
“I love you more than sex, obviously. And no, I wouldn’t fuck you if you asked me to right now,” Changbin giggles.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re drunk, hyung,” Changbin laughs again, pulling them back into the apartment. He leaves the balcony door open and settles down onto the floor near the door. From there, they can still see some of the taller buildings and the stars, and feel the gentle natural breeze against their skin.
Minho curls onto his side, resting his head on Changbin’s collarbone. “M’not drunk. You’re drunk, too!”
Changbin hums, “Yeah, but not as much as you. You’re a lightweight, s’cute.” He digs his hand into Minho’s hair, scratching at his scalp and twirling a strand between his fingers absentmindedly.
“Do you love me more than pasta? I know you love pasta,” Minho whispers.
“I do love you more than pasta, you just asked me that, hyungie,” Changbin mumbles, feeling the exhaustion seeping back into his bones. Minho must be feeling it too, he only hums softly.
Changbin hums back, his eyes closing again. “Hyung?” He calls out, voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t need to be loud, there’s no reason. Minho’s right here with him, right where he belongs. They live together now, so Changbin won’t ever have to shout too far or too loud to get to Minho.
The man in question hums, squishing his face into Changbin’s neck and huffing.
“Can I have another kiss? Just one more,” Changbin asks.
“Mmm, but m’so comfy right here. Do I really haf’ta get up?” Minho complains into the skin of his boyfriend, making Changbin’s neck vibrate.
“Please?”
Minho shoots up at that, throwing a leg over Changbin’s waist and straddling him. He leans down, squeezing the younger man’s face in his palms as gently as he can manage.
“Only cuz you said please, good manners,” he jumbles. “Where do you wan’ it? Here?” He presses a clumsy kiss to Changbin’s forehead with a giggle.
“Nuh-uh, right here,” Changbin puckers his lips, tilting his chin up.
“Oh, here?” Minho giggles again, kissing his boyfriend’s left eye and making him flinch.
“Hyung, you’re bein’ mean.”
Minho giggles over a fake pout. “M’sorry, baby, my baby. Tell me again, where should I kiss?”
“My- here, right here,” Changbin lifts a finger and taps his own lips, leaving them puckered for Minho.
“Ohh, your lips! You could’ve just said so, Changbinnie, silly goose.”
The kiss is warm, and it tastes like wine. Minho melts into it, and his face ends up squashing down entirely. Their foreheads touch, and he rolls over back onto the floor with his legs tangled around Changbin’s.
Neither of them say anything else for the night, comfortable enough to hold each other and bask in the buzz of the housewarming wine, on the hard floor of their empty apartment together. Their backs are going to kill by the time the sun rises, but at least they’ll deal with it together.