Chapter Text
Minho had been living at the dorm for four days when Chan realized there were rules.
Nobody had explained the rules.
There hadn't been a meeting.
Minho hadn't arrived with a laminated instruction sheet titled **Things You Should Know Before Cohabitating with a Cat Hybrid**, although Chan was beginning to think one would've been useful.
There were simply rules.
Some were obvious.
Don't step on the tail.
Don't leave tuna unattended.
Don't ask why Minho sometimes stared at absolutely nothing for several minutes and then abruptly left the room.
Others Chan was learning through experience.
Like this one.
“Can I touch your ears?”
Minho looked up from his phone.
He was curled into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked beneath himself, the other hanging over the edge. His tail was draped lazily across the cushion beside him.
His ears twitched.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Chan went back to his laptop.
Minho stared at him.
Chan could feel it.
He continued typing.
Finally—
“You're weird.”
Chan glanced over.
“For asking?”
“For listening.”
Chan's fingers stopped.
Minho had already returned to his phone.
Chan studied him for a second.
Then decided that whatever answer existed underneath that sentence wasn't something Minho wanted him digging for.
So he went back to work.
---
Minho hadn't always lived with them.
That was the strange part.
He'd been around them constantly, obviously. Practices. Schedules. Recording. Meals. Late nights at the company that turned into early mornings.
But the dorm had always belonged to seven people.
Minho had his own place.
His own space.
His own routines.
Then his apartment building had developed some kind of plumbing problem that Chan didn't entirely understand beyond the words *water damage*, *repairs*, and Minho saying **“I'm going to kill my landlord.”**
Management had estimated several weeks.
Chan had offered the dorm before Minho could finish complaining.
Minho had refused.
Chan offered again.
Minho refused again.
Changbin offered.
“No.”
Felix offered.
“No.”
Han said, “You know you're going to end up staying with us anyway.”
Minho threatened him.
Two days later, Minho arrived with three bags and the expression of a man being marched toward his execution.
Nobody mentioned it.
They valued their lives.
And honestly?
The adjustment had been surprisingly easy.
Minho wasn't particularly difficult to live with.
He was tidy.
Quiet when he wanted to be.
He cooked.
He cleaned.
He disappeared into his room when the dorm became too loud and reappeared whenever he felt like tolerating them again.
The only actual adjustment was that Minho didn't hide as much of himself here.
At the company, his ears were usually concealed.
Sometimes beneath hats.
Sometimes under carefully styled hair.
His tail was easier to hide beneath long jackets or specialized clothing, and over the years Minho had gotten very good at keeping certain instincts controlled in public.
At the dorm?
Apparently he couldn't be bothered.
Chan had walked into the kitchen yesterday morning to find Minho barefoot, half asleep, hair sticking up everywhere, tail lazily swaying behind him while he stared into the refrigerator.
Chan had stopped.
Not because there was anything wrong with the sight.
Just because he'd never seen Minho look so—
Unmanaged.
Soft.
Minho's left ear turned toward him.
He hadn't even looked.
“Don't.”
Chan blinked.
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to say good morning.”
Minho finally looked at him.
Suspicious.
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“Good morning.”
Minho shut the refrigerator.
“Morning.”
And walked away.
Chan had stood there for another few seconds wondering what the hell had just happened.
---
The ear question happened that evening.
Chan hadn't planned on asking.
He'd been working on the couch for nearly an hour while Minho watched something on his phone beside him.
Then Minho had stretched.
His head tipped sideways.
One black ear flicked.
And Chan had wondered.
That was it.
Just wondered.
They looked soft.
So he'd asked.
Minho said no.
Chan accepted no.
Apparently that made him weird.
Fine.
Chan could live with weird.
---
The next afternoon, Minho fell asleep on the couch.
That wasn't unusual.
The dorm had achieved one of those rare stretches of quiet that never lasted very long.
Changbin and Hyunjin had gone out.
Felix was in his room.
Seungmin and Jeongin were somewhere upstairs.
Han had announced that he was taking a nap approximately forty minutes ago and then sent Chan six videos from bed.
Chan had stopped questioning him.
Minho had been watching television.
Now he was asleep.
Chan noticed because the volume was low enough that he could hear the soft, even breaths from the opposite end of the couch.
He looked over.
Minho was curled on his side.
One hand tucked beneath his cheek.
Tail curled around his legs.
His ears were relaxed.
Chan smiled.
Then immediately looked back at his laptop.
He had work to do.
Approximately three minutes passed.
Something touched his thigh.
Chan froze.
He looked down.
Minho's tail.
Just the end of it.
It had uncurled while Minho slept and stretched across the couch until the fluffy tip rested against Chan's leg.
Chan stared at it.
Then at Minho.
Still asleep.
Back to the tail.
He considered moving it.
Didn't.
Considered touching it.
Definitely didn't.
Instead, Chan awkwardly adjusted his laptop so he could continue typing without disturbing anything.
This worked for another ten minutes.
Until Minho shifted.
His tail slid farther across Chan's lap.
Chan stopped typing again.
“Okay,” he whispered to himself.
He was trapped.
Fine.
He had survived worse.
The front door opened.
Chan's head snapped up.
Voices.
Changbin.
Hyunjin.
Shit.
Chan immediately put one finger to his lips as they entered the living room.
Changbin looked at him.
Then Minho.
Then the tail across Chan's lap.
His eyebrows climbed.
Chan shook his head violently.
**Don't.**
Changbin's mouth twitched.
Hyunjin peered around him.
His expression softened.
Chan pointed toward the hallway.
Both of them silently disappeared.
Crisis avoided.
Mostly.
Because Minho stirred.
His ears twitched first.
Then his nose scrunched.
His eyes opened.
For a few seconds, he looked completely disoriented.
Then he noticed Chan.
Then he noticed his tail.
Across Chan's lap.
Minho went still.
Chan did too.
The tail disappeared so quickly it nearly slapped Minho in the face.
“Sorry.”
Chan blinked.
“For what?”
Minho sat up.
“My tail.”
“Okay?”
“It was on you.”
“I noticed.”
Minho stared.
Chan stared back.
“You could've moved it.”
“You were asleep.”
“So?”
“So I didn't want to wake you.”
Minho's ears angled slightly backward.
Chan wasn't sure what that meant yet.
He was learning.
“You didn't touch it?”
“No.”
Another stare.
“Why?”
Chan frowned.
“Because you didn't tell me I could.”
Something changed in Minho's expression.
Tiny.
So tiny Chan would've missed it if he hadn't been looking directly at him.
Then it disappeared.
Minho stood.
“I'm hungry.”
And walked into the kitchen.
Chan watched him go.
Interesting.
---
Rule number one:
**Ask first.**
Chan could do that.
---
Two days later, he fucked up.
Not badly.
But enough.
It happened in the kitchen.
Minho was cooking.
Chan was stealing pieces of whatever Minho was cooking.
These were two completely different activities, according to Chan.
Minho disagreed.
“Stop.”
Chan ate another piece.
“I'm testing it.”
“You've tested it six times.”
“Quality control.”
“I will control your quality in a minute.”
“I don't know what that means.”
“Neither do I.”
Chan reached toward the cutting board again.
Minho slapped his hand away.
“Christopher.”
“Okay, okay.”
Chan laughed and backed off.
Minho returned to chopping.
His tail flicked behind him.
Chan leaned against the counter.
They talked.
Nothing important.
Something about schedules.
Something about Han leaving three empty water bottles in the practice room.
Something about whether they needed groceries.
Minho was halfway through telling him they were almost out of rice when he suddenly hissed.
Chan moved without thinking.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Minho pulled his hand toward his chest.
Chan reached for it.
Minho jerked away.
“Don't.”
Chan stopped.
Immediately.
His hand remained suspended between them for half a second before he lowered it.
“Okay.”
Minho stared at him.
Chan nodded toward his hand.
“Did you cut yourself?”
“Little.”
“Do you need anything?”
“No.”
“Bandage?”
“I said no.”
“Okay.”
Chan stepped back.
Minho turned toward the sink.
There was a tiny cut along his finger.
Nothing serious.
Chan watched him rinse it.
Every instinct in his body wanted to help.
Grab the first aid kit.
Check the cut.
Do something.
Instead, he stayed where he was.
Minho dried his hand.
Opened a drawer.
Found a bandage.
Put it on.
Then returned to the cutting board.
Chan waited.
Minho glanced sideways.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“Making sure you're okay.”
“I am.”
“Okay.”
Minho chopped another vegetable.
Chan stayed away from the cutting board this time.
Several seconds passed.
Then—
“You stopped.”
Chan looked at him.
“When you said don't.”
“Yes.”
“...Yeah?”
Minho's knife slowed.
“Immediately.”
Chan frowned.
“Minho.”
“What?”
“If you tell me not to touch you, I'm not going to touch you.”
Minho didn't answer.
“Ever.”
Still nothing.
“You don't need a reason.”
Minho stared at the cutting board.
His ears had gone completely still.
Chan suddenly wondered if he'd said too much.
So he shrugged.
“Unless you're actively on fire.”
Minho looked at him.
Chan nodded seriously.
“Then I'm probably going to intervene.”
“You're an idiot.”
“There he is.”
Minho rolled his eyes.
But one ear flicked.
Chan smiled.
He was learning that one.
---
That night, everyone was in the living room.
Which meant nobody could hear the television.
Han and Changbin were arguing.
Hyunjin was lying upside down on the floor for reasons known only to Hyunjin.
Felix was attempting to show Jeongin something on his phone.
Seungmin was complaining about all of them.
Chan was in the middle of the couch.
Minho came in last.
He stopped.
Surveyed the room.
There were technically several places to sit.
None were particularly good.
Minho sighed.
“Move.”
Chan looked up.
“Who?”
“You.”
“Where?”
Minho gestured vaguely.
Chan shifted toward the arm of the couch.
Minho sat beside him.
Close.
Closer than necessary.
Chan didn't mention it.
The argument continued.
“No, because you're WRONG,” Han said.
“I am literally showing you the answer.”
“Your source is TikTok!”
“It's still RIGHT.”
“That's not how SOURCES WORK.”
“Can everyone shut up?” Seungmin asked.
Nobody shut up.
Minho's tail flicked against the cushion.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Chan noticed.
The room was loud.
Minho's ears kept turning toward different voices.
Han shouted.
One ear flattened.
Changbin shouted back.
The other followed.
Chan considered asking if Minho wanted to leave.
Before he could, Minho moved.
Just slightly.
His shoulder pressed against Chan's.
Chan went still.
Minho didn't move away.
So Chan didn't either.
Another minute.
Then Minho's head rested against his shoulder.
Chan stopped breathing.
Not because he was uncomfortable.
Because he had absolutely no fucking idea what to do.
Across the room, Felix looked up.
His eyes widened.
Chan gave him a warning look.
Felix immediately looked back at his phone.
Good.
Minho shifted again.
His ear brushed Chan's cheek.
Soft.
Really fucking soft.
Chan stared straight ahead.
Do not touch the ears.
He knew that rule.
Han was still arguing.
Hyunjin had apparently joined Changbin's side despite having no idea what they were discussing.
Minho sighed.
His body relaxed another fraction against Chan.
And then—
“Chan.”
“Yeah?”
“Can.”
Chan waited.
Minho didn't finish.
“Can what?”
Minho's tail gave one irritated flick.
His face remained turned toward the television.
“You can.”
Chan blinked.
“I can...?”
Minho's ear twitched against his cheek.
Oh.
**Oh.**
Chan's chest did something embarrassingly warm.
But he kept his voice normal.
“My hand?”
A tiny nod.
“Your ear?”
Another nod.
Chan lifted his hand slowly.
Minho didn't move.
His fingers touched the base of one ear.
Soft.
Holy shit.
Chan gently rubbed his thumb through the fur.
Minho's entire body went still.
Chan stopped immediately.
Minho frowned.
“Why'd you stop?”
“I thought you didn't like it.”
“I didn't say stop.”
Right.
Chan started again.
Slow.
Gentle.
Minho's shoulders dropped.
His eyes stayed on the television.
Another stroke.
His ear tipped slightly into Chan's hand.
Chan bit the inside of his cheek.
He would not react.
He would **not** make this weird.
Across the room, Han finally stopped arguing.
Chan looked up.
Han was staring.
Changbin was staring.
Hyunjin was staring.
Felix was staring.
Jeongin was staring.
Seungmin was—
Actually, Seungmin was looking at his phone.
At least one person had survival instincts.
Minho's eyes narrowed.
Chan saw it coming.
Minho had noticed.
Six people braced.
“Don't.”
Everyone immediately looked somewhere else.
“I didn't say anything,” Han muttered.
“Your face did.”
“My face wasn't even—”
“Jisung.”
“Okay.”
Chan felt Minho's ear move beneath his fingers.
He continued rubbing gently.
After a moment, Minho settled against his shoulder again.
Nobody commented.
The room gradually became loud.
Han restarted the argument.
Changbin called him an idiot.
Hyunjin threw a pillow.
Felix laughed.
Jeongin complained when the pillow hit him instead.
Seungmin threatened to leave.
And Minho stayed.
Warm against Chan's side.
Tail stretched across the couch.
Ear beneath Chan's hand.
Chan understood now.
It wasn't:
**Don't touch me.**
It was:
**Let me decide.**
That was easy enough.
Chan could do that.
He scratched lightly behind Minho's ear.
Minho leaned into it.
Then, barely audible beneath the chaos of seven people talking over one another—
A tiny rumble.
Chan's fingers froze.
Minho's eyes opened.
They looked at each other.
Chan knew.
Minho knew Chan knew.
For one terrifying second, Chan thought—
“Don't.”
There it was.
Chan swallowed his smile.
“I didn't say anything.”
Minho's eyes narrowed.
“Your face did.”
Chan nodded solemnly.
“My mistake.”
“Fix it.”
Chan schooled his expression.
Minho closed his eyes again.
Chan resumed scratching behind his ear.
A few seconds later, the quiet rumble returned.
Chan didn't say anything.
This time—
Neither did Minho.