Archive of Our Own

Minho and Chan, also known as “mom and dad of Stray Kids”, liked to go on what they referred to as “work dates”.

These work dates were outings, occurring approximately once a month, where Minho and Chan would go out somewhere, just the two of them, and talk about the current goings-on of the group.

They talked about everything, how producing was going, how choreography was going, how the demos sounded. And, of course, as all good parents did, they talked about how the rest of the kids were doing.

They also talked about things that were going on in their own lives, things that they only shared with one another.

Sometimes these outings were laid back, casual, just a change of scenery where the two of them would go and chat.

Sometimes these outings were activities that both of them wanted to try, so they might as well do them together, right? Isn’t that what a good friend is for, to do fun activities with?

Their definition of the whole work date thing was, admittedly, very loose.

Now, it’s important to note here that they absolutely, positively, were not dating — no matter what anyone else thought or said, they weren’t dating.

But for some strange reason, no one seemed to believe them.

Their members certainly didn’t believe them; they’d always drop the “work” part of work date, much to Minho and Chan’s dismay.

“It’s not a date! We were working!” Chan would correct exasperatedly.

“Sure, Channie, whatever you say~” Felix teased.

“Are you sure you don’t even like one another? I see the way you two look at each other.” Hyunjin said one time.

“It’s not like that, Hyunjin-ah.” Minho sighed, avoiding Hyunjin’s curious gaze. “Where’d you even get that idea?”

“Hmm, no where, I guess.” Hyunjin was not at all convinced.

It was bad enough that their members, the people they were closest to, didn’t believe them.

But then strangers started commenting on it as well. It was always just an innocent mistake; no one ever had ill intentions.

They still didn't talk about it, though. Why would they? There was nothing to talk about.

They weren’t dating, and that was that.

1.🐰

The first time Minho and Chan were mistaken for a couple on one of their work dates, they were at a park not too far away from the recording studio.

“I’ve listened to them all way too much at this point, I think I might be starting to hate them. I need a neutral ear. I'll bring snacks, will you meet me at the park?” Chan's tired voice crackled through the speaker on Minho's phone.

This is how things went sometimes, their work dates. Sometimes they were spontaneous.

“When was the last time you slept? Or ate a real meal?” Minho asked, turning on speaker phone so he could put on his hoodie.

“Ummm,” Chan mumbled.

“I’ll come listen to the demos with you only if you come over and nap afterwards. For at least three hours.” Minho shoved his feet into slip-on sneakers.

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll go back home and sleep after, I promise.”

Minho hummed. He opened his text thread with Jeongin.

Minho

Will you be home for dinner tonight?

“Alright, see you soon, Channie.” Minho said, ending the call.

His hand was on the door handle when his phone pinged.

Yang Jeongin

Yeah I’ll be home, but not in time for dinner. I’ll be out late

Again?

Minho

Yeah, again. If there’s anything you’re craving, let me know. I’ll make enough for you, too

Leftovers will be in the fridge

Yang Jeongin

Thank you

You know you don’t have to

Minho

Yeah, well, you know our Bang Chan-ssi

A short while later, Minho and Chan were sitting next to one another at the picnic table underneath the shade of a great Japanese Maple tree. Their heads were tilted close together, a single pair of earbuds split between the two of them. Chan had pulled up the demos on his laptop, and was talking Minho through his thoughts for the songs.

He explained what he liked, what he didn’t like, and where he was starting to hate what he had created.

Minho listened earnestly, thoughtfully, providing his comments and feedback in between bites of pudding.

The park around them was quiet while they worked. A gentle breeze floated through the air. It was peaceful, comfortable.

They were on the last demo when an elderly couple walked past them. Minho and Chan didn’t notice them at first. What did catch their attention was when the wife started speaking rather loudly to her husband.

“Ahh, to be young and in love!!” The woman practically shouted at her poor husband. “It’s so beautiful to see two young people so smitten with one another, don’t you think, dear?”

Minho looked up then, a little startled by the sudden racket, and gave the woman a small smile before turning back to Chan’s laptop.

“Dusik, do you remember what it was like when we were young?!”

“Yes, dear.” The husband replied quietly.

The woman sighed dramatically, dreamily, and then they were out of earshot.

“What was that about?” Chan mumbled, glancing up, his eyebrows pinching together as he eyed the backs of the couple.

“Dunno,” Minho hummed, looking around. The rest of the park was empty. “Guess she mistook us for a couple. We’re the only ones here.”

Chan hummed distractedly. He was replaying the same two bars over and over again, clearly displeased with something. Then suddenly, he lowered one of the eighth notes a half step, and when he replayed it again, his face relaxed just a touch.

“This better?” Chan asked.

Minho listened closely as he always did. “Mmm, yeah, I like this.”

“Okay,” Chan mumbled. His eyes were becoming bloodshot.

Ten minutes later, Chan’s laptop gave it’s five percent left battery warning.

“Aishhh,” Chan whined. He yawned so wide tears pricked behind his eyes.

“Looks like this is a good stopping point, then.” Minho passed the earbuds back to Chan. “Let’s head home. You have a promise to fulfill.”

Chan pouted.

“I will confiscate your laptop charger, Chan-ah.”

Chan sighed and reluctantly packed up. That was not an empty threat; Minho has had to take his laptop charger on multiple occasions to get him to take a break, and he'd do it again today if it came down to it.

When they arrived at Chan’s dorm, he tried to go in alone.

“I'll go right to sleep!” he stifled a yawn.

Minho just looked at him and followed him inside.

Chan let Minho in without complaint. Both of them knew he wouldn't sleep if left to his own devices.

Minho plopped down on the couch while Chan showered. He scrolled through recipes on his phone, looking for inspiration for something to cook.

“Alright, I’m going to take a nap now,” Chan called from down the hall a few minutes later. “You can head out whenever.”

Minho looked up from his spot on the couch and saw a Chan wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs shuffling towards his room.

Minho noticed the way droplets of water dripped from his hair down onto his muscular back, and his mouth went a little dry. Chan was very attractive. And Minho was just a man, sue him. He pat his face harshly to rid the thoughts from his mind.

Once Chan’s bedroom light clicked off, Minho stood up and stretched with a small groan. He made his way to the kitchen and started poking through the cabinets, looking for the ingredients for doenjang jjigae, adding the missing ingredients into his grocery delivery app.

With the groceries on their way, Minho sat back down on the couch and started to work on the Sudoku puzzle that had been giving him hell earlier this morning.

He had trouble focusing though, because the memory of the woman from the park floated through his mind.

That was the first time a stranger had mistook them for a couple.

Did they really look like a couple? I mean, the other members teased them about it all the time, but that was between friends. Strangers making similar comments was a whole different territory.

He wracked his brain for any other reason for the interaction. There must be something. There had to be.

It must have been just a coincidence.

It certainly didn’t mean anything.

And besides, there's no way Chan would go for that sort of thing right now anyway. He's way too focused on work, and Minho respected that.

Minho exhaled sharply through his nose, willing his racing thoughts to quiet.

There’s no reason for him to get worked up about anything that may or may not be happening between him and Chan.

Because the situation at the park was a one time thing, and it absolutely wouldn't happen again.

And because they definitely were not dating.

2.🐺

The second time Minho and Chan were mistaken for a couple, they were at a bar a near their dorms.

They liked this bar for a multitude of reasons; the vibe was nice, the owners were kind, and Minho and Chan were never bothered by strangers — a small comfort that they never took for granted.

The decor inside was warm and welcoming. The lighting inside was low, but it was cozy in a way that felt like home. There were a wide variety of seating options ranging from large tables that could seat a whole group, to intimate booths tucked into corners that allowed patrons the feeling of being tucked into their own space without being fully secluded in a private room. Their selection of non-alcoholic drinks was impressive, which Chan appreciated, and their menu was full of comfort food staples. It was the perfect spot to sit back and people-watch, to brainstorm lyrics among the buzz of conversation without feeling overwhelmed or stifled in a packed atmosphere.

Chan got there first today, and grabbed their usual booth in the back corner. The booth seats were dark maroon, and the table was a rich espresso brown. A small candle flickered from inside a whiskey glass, the rim stained with charcoal. It was tucked away from the others, just as him and Minho liked.

Chan

I’m here, in our spot

The Cutest Minho

Almost there

Chan pulled out his laptop and opened his mixing software, absentmindedly playing with chords and harmonies while he waited for Minho.

The waiter dropped off the drinks and food Chan had ordered; cinnamon-ginger punch for Minho, watermelon punch for Chan, and pork mandu to share.

Chan took a sip of his drink, refreshing sweet watermelon bursting on his tongue.

“Starting without me?” a light, airy voice teased, catching Chan's attention.

Chan looked up, smiling at Minho as he slid into the booth across from him.

“You haven't missed much.” Chan replied, pushing Minho’s drink towards him. Cinnamon filled the air between the two of them as Minho tried it.

“Mmm, good pick, Chan-ah.” Minho said, handing Chan his drink, and making grabby hands for Chan’s glass.

They tried each other's drinks, humming with delight before returning the glasses to their original owners.

“What are we here for today, Channie?” Minho asked, taking a bite of a dumpling.

“Mostly people-watching. I was playing with a few chords before you got here, but nothing too serious.”

Chan liked to people-watch when he was looking for inspiration for new songs. As much as he, Jisung, and Changbin pulled from their own lives while songwriting, gaining inspiration from things outside their own lives was just as important. Observing people existing in their own lives often provided outside perspective, alternate ways of looking at a situation, even from afar.

Minho and Chan stayed for three rounds of drinks, their conversation flowing between work and personal life with ease. The bar had a new selection of drinks, so of course they had to try them all. They ordered one of each, sharing them, and fighting over who got the last sips of the best one.

“I’m the eldest, you should respect your elders and let me have the last sip, Minho-yah!” Chan teased.

“I was the one who found this bar, I’m the reason we even come here! If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t even know this place existed. It should be mine.”

Chan tried to hold back a laugh, his eyes sparkling with joy in the low light.

“Besides, Chan-ah, you should take care of your dongsaeng.” Minho deadpanned, mischief in his eyes. He reached for the glass and drained it, holding eye contact with Chan the entire time.

Chan felt his stomach swoop a little bit. He felt his cheeks flush a little bit. “Ahh, my devil bunny.” He chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

Minho leaned in. His eyes were still locked on Chan’s “We can always order another one, Channie.” His voice was so soft. Why was it so soft? Chan inhaled sharply. Why did it feel like — like — something was happening between them?

“The honey lemon matcha has been our most popular so far. Did you want another round?” The server’s voice cut through the — whatever — that was being exchanged between the two of them. Chan and Minho both jolted back at the sudden interruption, looking down at the fresh plate of pork belly skewers that now sat in between them.

The flush on Chan’s cheeks lingered as three rounds of drinks became four. Their conversation remained light for the rest of the evening, both of them silently agreeing that they were done with work.

Chan and Minho were on their last sips when their group chat buzzed. It was Felix sending TikToks of cats.

Chan watched Minho watch the video, immediately closing the text thread and opening his camera instead.

He snapped a few pictures of Minho smiling down at his phone, a soft laugh bubbling out of him.

“Chan-ah —” Minho looked up, a sparkle in his eyes, a flush on his cheeks, and a joyful smile on his lips.

Upon seeing Chan taking photos of him, Minho rolled his eyes and scowled.

“Chan-ahhhhhh,” Minho whined. “Come on.”

“What? I can’t take photos of my precious little kitten for bubble?” Chan teased, still snapping pictures. “You’re just so cute~”

Minho’s face softened. His lips twitched as he tried to hold back a smile, but Chan could see the smile in his eyes clear as day.

“Alright, alright, you’ve taken enough.” Minho said after a moment, swatting at Chan’s phone. Chan pulled back just in time, pocketing his phone as Minho slid out of the booth.

Chan headed up to the front to pay the bill while Minho was in the bathroom.

“Thanks for coming in,” The server said, handing Chan his card back. “I hope you and your boyfriend have a great rest of the night!”

Boyfriend? Chan blinked, shocked. “Huh? Oh, yeah, um, t-thank you, h-have a good night!” Chan nodded in a small bow and hastily made his way outside to wait for Minho. His head spun at the server’s comment.

First the elderly couple in the park, and now at their favorite bar? I mean, it’s better than having been recognized as idols, he supposed — less attention that way.

But, did they really look like a couple?

I mean, Chan didn’t exactly correct him. But that was just out of politeness.

Obviously.

No other reason.

Chan didn’t have long to spiral about the comment, because there Minho was, hands in his pockets, wind ruffling through his hair, looking around for Chan.

Chan felt time screech to a halt as their eyes locked, and the corner of Minho’s mouth twitched up in recognition. Minho trotted over to him in what felt like slow motion, like a scene out of a k-drama when the two main love interests see one another from across the room.

Chan shook his head, hoping to get rid of the thought. The flush on his cheeks had returned with a vengeance.

It was just the wind, of course.

“Everything okay?” Minho tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at Chan as he stopped right next to him.

“I — nothing, it’s fine, Minho.” Shit. Chan had thought his face was neutral.

Minho frowned, looking over his shoulder back at the bar, worry immediately clouding his eyes.

Chan grabbed Minho’s arm, looping his arm around, and pulled him in the direction of their dorms.

“It’s okay, Min, they just thought we were together.” Chan mumbled.

Minho just hummed softly beside him.

They didn’t talk about it any more than that.

Because, of course, there wasn’t any thing to talk about.

Because, of course, they weren’t dating.

3.🐺

The third time Minho and Chan are mistaken for a couple, they were in a private room at a new pop-up restaurant a few blocks away from the JYPE office that had opened recently.

They had made reservations right when the pop-up was announced so they’d be sure to get a spot, but when the day itself rolled around, Chan found himself to be in kind of a bad mood. He felt guilty about it, not wanting to ruin their time together, but if they cancelled, there wasn’t a guarantee they’d be able to get another spot before the pop-up closed.

Chan

I’m sorry, Minho

Are you sure you still wanna go?

I don’t want to ruin it.

The Cutest Minho

Not possible

I’ll drive

Chan huffed at Minho’s short texts, rolling his eyes. But he couldn’t help the way his heart squeezed in his chest.

He didn’t deserve Minho. He didn’t deserve any of them, really.

And yet, there was this delicate balance that him and Minho always seemed to maintain with one another. When one of them was down, the other was there to make it all better, to pick up the pieces that fell apart.

Chan was beyond grateful he had Minho in his life, and that he could rely on him no matter what.

The car ride to the pop-up was quiet. DAY6 was playing softly through the car’s speakers as Minho navigated the short way there.

Chan looked out the window, his elbow balanced on the side of the car door, his chin resting in his palm. He watched the world around him fly by, and tried to loosen the tension that had made itself at home in his core.

“Alright, we’re here.” Minho hummed, pulling into a parking space and shutting off the car. “Ready?”

Chan nodded.

The inside of the pop-up was covered in cute, chibi astronauts and warm blue LED lights. There were neon lights shaped like planets, and stars and moons hanging from the ceiling. The whole thing was very cute.

They were shown to their private room, which has more of the same cute space decor on the walls, and the whole room was cast in colorful lights from the LED’s. It wasn’t dark inside, though, there was enough white light overhead that made it so they could still see without any issues.

Chan and Minho didn’t talk much at first while they both reviewed the menu. Chan felt tense, but the energy from Minho was warm, gentle. The complete opposite of how Chan felt.

Once their order was placed and the server left them be, Chan tried to ask Minho about how the choreography had been going lately.

Minho just stared at him with an expression Chan couldn’t read.

“What?” Chan asked. His tone had more bite to it than he had meant for it to. “Sorry.” He mumbled immediately before Minho could answer.

“We’re not talking about work today.” Minho replied.

“But —”

“No.”

Chan opened his mouth, but Minho cut him off before any sound came out.

“No, Channie.”

Chan exhaled sharply through his nose.

“It can wait for another time. Let’s just enjoy the meal today, okay?” Minho’s voice was clear and steady in a way that left no room for argument.

He reached over and squeezed Chan’s hand. The touch was brief, meant to be comforting.

Chan’s hand tingled when Minho pulled back.

The servers appeared then with their meal and side dishes, covering the table in plates of delicious looking food.

The smell of meat, spices, and rice hit Chan’s nose, making his mouth water instantly.

“Whoa, this looks so good, thank you.” He said quietly, reaching into the drawer for chopsticks and a spoon.

“I’ll be back later with desert, but if you need anything else before then, just let us know.” The server said before leaving them be.

“Desert?” Chan looked at Minho. They hadn’t ordered any desert.

Minho shrugged, and began filling both their plates with meat and veggies.

As they ate, Minho kept Chan’s attention focused on everything but work.

Minho relayed the latest cat report from his parents, pulling up the photos of Soonie, Doongie, and Dori they had sent over the other day. They laughed at the blurry photos clearly taken while the cats were mid-play, and cooed at the regal-looking candid photos of the cats watching something outside the front window.

Then they talked about anime. Minho talked about the most recent That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime season, and told him he should really just give it a try. Chan lamented about the most resent Jujutsu Kaisen season, and how he was so stressed about the unclear fate of one of the main characters.

Minho mentioned that there was this feel-good movie he had been meaning to watch, Flavors of Youth, but hadn’t found the time. There was a look in his eye, a question left unsaid, as Chan split the last of the meat between their two plates.

Minho was planting a seed, leaving an open door for Chan to come back to his dorm tonight. He knew Chan would never ask, he never wanted to impose. But days like today when Minho was able to help him find his smile again helped more than he had words to describe.

And Minho knew that, because of course he did. Chan didn’t have to say it out loud; Minho still knew.

Chan’s focus returned when Minho started talking about the mobile game he had been playing lately. It was something he had seen Jisung playing a while ago, and wanted to try. Now he was sucked in deep and couldn’t put it down.

Chan laughed, knowing the feeling. He talked about his recent adventures in Genshin Impact, and the characters he’d been enjoying playing recently.

They were talking animatedly about the two games when the server knocked on the door, a covered plate in hand.

“Thank you for joining us today! Here’s your desert!” She set the small plate down and uncovered it.

It was a chocolate lava cake, dusted with powdered sugar, and decorated with raspberries. There were drizzles of dark pink syrup in the shape of hearts all around the edge of the cake.

“Wait, we didn’t order —” Minho started.

“It’s the promotion we are running today. All couples who visit us get a free desert! Enjoy!” And with that, she left them be again.

Chan and Minho stared at one another in disbelief. Neither of them spoke for a moment as they look down at the cake, and then back up at each other.

Chan felt a weird thought wiggle through his head. “Do — do you think she was just being nice, maybe?” he whispered. “Or — do we really look like —” he didn’t finish his sentence. His cheeks and ears were burning.

There was a pink flush blooming across Minho’s face as well.

“Well,” Minho hummed, picking up the spoons, passing one to Chan.

Chan’s gaze was locked on Minho’s as he reached for the spoon. Their fingers brushed, and Chan felt sparks shoot through his body at the contact.

Chan saw Minho’s breath catch.

Chan blinked. Wait —

“Right.” Minho cleared his throat, blinking rapidly and looking down at the cake. “Let’s try it, Chan-ah.”

Chan's mind stuttered as be watched Minho stabbed the cake. The scent of melted chocolate burst through the air as the center of the cake spilled around the side of Minho’s spoon.

“Come on, don’t make me try it by myself!” Minho nodded towards Chan’s spoon that was notably, not inside the cake. “You’re the eldest, you’re supposed to take care of me. If this is poisoned, I don’t wanna die alone.”

The shock of Minho’s words caught Chan completely off guard, and a laugh burst out of him before he could stop it. He should be used to the way he spoke by now, and yet, Minho always seemed to know how to keep him on his toes.

And, because Minho was right, of course, Chan picked up his own spoon and sank it into the soft cake.

It was warm and decadent, the freshness of the raspberries balancing the rich chocolate perfectly.

Chan closed his eyes, sighing as sweetness flooded his taste buds.

They make quick work of the cake, and left shortly after, not wanting to overstay their welcome.

Chan followed Minho into his dorm, kicking off his shoes by the door.

He sat down on the couch next to Minho, a small space left in between them. Chan picked at his fingers as Minho pulled up the movie on his streaming platform.

Minho hit play, then immediately turned his attention to Chan.

Chan looked over at him, confused. There was this look on Minho’s face that he couldn’t place.

After a moment of silence Minho sighed. “Oh Channie, what am I gonna to do with you?” he mumbled before scooting over, closing the distance between them and leaning against Chan’s side.

Chan hesitated for a moment, before wrapping his arm around Minho’s shoulders.

Somewhere in between the last bite of chocolate and raspberry, and Minho’s head falling onto his shoulder, Chan realized he didn’t feel so bad anymore.

And maybe, considering the fact that they were cuddling on Minho’s couch, maybe that should scare him.

But for some reason, it didn’t.

4.🐰

The fourth time Minho and Chan were mistaken for a couple, it was, admittedly, their fault. Minho’s fault, more specifically.

Dance practice had been brutal the past few days. Between that, and the strength training they had been doing outside of work, their bodies were screaming for relief.

Minho was searching around online for different solutions — massage studios, cupping therapy, something, anything, to help them get through this bout of discomfort.

He stumbled on a studio offering a deal for couples, and immediately texted it to Chan.

Minho

Check this out

[image]

Wanna do it together?

Channie

A couples massage?

Minho

Yeah

Wanna do it???

It’ll helppppp

Channie

Minho-yah we aren’t a couple lol

Minho

But we are two people

And it’s a good deal

What could possibly go wrong?

When Minho and Chan arrived at the massage studio for their appointment, Minho’s text “what could possibly go wrong?” came back to bite them. Or, more specifically, bite Chan. Minho knew what he had signed them up for.

“Welcome in!” The receptionist greeted them warmly. “You’re here for the anniversary package?”

“Yes, thank you!” Minho said brightly.

He felt Chan eyeing him. He knew he’d have questions to answer as soon as they were alone, but in his defense, a full-body massage with hot stone treatment was exactly what they both needed.

So what if he left out a few details when he told Chan about the booking? It’s not like anyone who worked here cared about what their relationship to one another actually was. At the end of the day, it was a massage service.

The receptionist led them back to their room. She opened the door and gestured for them to head inside.

“Go ahead and change into those robes here.” She pointed to a small rack with two sage green waffle knit robes hanging on it. “Would you like champagne or sparkling apple cider?”

“Ahh, cider for both of us please.” Minho answered.

The receptionist nodded and left them to get changed.

“Minho-yah.” Chan hissed as soon as the door clicked shut.

“Yes, Channie-hyung?” Minho turned and smiled a touch too cheerfully at his leader.

“What exactly did you book for us?”

“Well. I’m sure you gathered the name already, but it was an anniversary package.” Minho bit his lip to keep from laughing. He did find the whole thing a little amusing, given their recent history.

“Why did you book us an anniversary package?” Chan asked exasperatedly.

“Look, it was the best deal on their page for the full body massages and I thought we both would enjoy the hot stone treatment as well.” Minho explained. “There's also — there’s a few extra things as well.” His voice trailed off at the end. He felt a little hot inside.

“Like?” Chan pressed.

“Well, the complimentary drinks as you saw.”

“Mhmm,”

“And —”

Chan just looked at him, waiting.

“Well, there’s — I guess — so there’s gonna be, like, rose petals and stuff, complimentary fruit, a hot tub soak after the stone treatment, and a — uh — a special treat to take home after.”

Chan paused, closing his eyes and breathed deeply though his nose.

Minho’s stomach dropped. Was this a bad idea? He did it truly just because he wanted to do something to help with their sore muscles. The fact that it was an anniversary package just made him laugh, and he thought Chan would get a kick out of it too. He didn’t think Chan would mind.

Had he thought wrong?

“Chan-ah, I’m s—”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Chan finally opened his eyes.

Minho was still frozen, unsure of what Chan was thinking.

And then, much to Minho’s surprise, Chan laughed.

He laughed a lot, like all his laughter had been stuck inside him for weeks, and was finally bursting free.

He laughed until he was red in the face and wiping tears off his cheeks.

Just as Chan’s laughter trickled out, a light knock interrupted them.

Chan clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide.

“Are you two ready yet?”

The receptionist. Right. They were supposed to be changing.

“Uh — just a second!” Minho called back hastily.

“No rush, take your time!”

Minho and Chan stare at one another in silence, eyes wide, their breath caught in their chests.

Chan gasped with laughter all over again, grabbing Minho’s arm for support to keep from falling over. And this time Minho joined him, holding Chan's shoulder with his free hand.

The whole thing was a little ridiculous, after all.

As their laughter finally slowed, their heads tipped together as they caught their breath.

When their foreheads touched, neither of them pulled away.

Minho shivered. Chan was so close to him.

“Alright, come on, we gotta get changed.” Minho whispered after a minute, reluctantly pulling back.

His gaze lingered on Chan as he stepped back.

Chan’s gaze lingered on him.

Minho saw the deep flush covering Chan’s cheeks and ears, knowing that he must look the same.

The air between them felt different. Heavier. Like they were on the verge of something.

And yet, neither of them said anything.

Finally, Minho looked away. He grabbed the robes, passing one to Chan, and then turned his back, quickly discarding his street clothes. He heard the soft shuffles of Chan doing the same behind him.

He waited until there was only silence in the room, his back still turned. “Ready, Channie?” He whispered.

“Mhmm.”

Their massage and hot stone treatment went well. It was soothing, relaxing, and exactly what both of them needed. Both Minho and Chan were extremely glad they did it.

“Thank you, Minho-yah.” Chan murmured. His eyes were hidden underneath a folded towel, his head tipped back. They were sitting in the hot tub, relaxing after their massages.

“Mmm?”

“I never thanked you. For booking this.”

“Mmm, yeah, no problem. Just thought it would help.”

Chan stood and stretched. A small groan left his lips as he leaned side to side.

Minho watched him with careful eyes, his head tilted ever so slightly.

Chan met Minho's gaze. “It did. It helped.” His voice was gentle, barely above a whisper.

Minho's heart squeezed. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Chan stepped out, and held his hand out to Minho.

Minho stared at it for a moment before slipping his hand into Chan's and standing up.

They walked hand in hand back to the room to get changed.

It felt important, like it meant something.

It also felt delicate, as if simply speaking about it would be enough to shatter the tiny, fragile thing growing quietly beneath the surface.

And so, like always, neither of them said anything.

When Minho pulled his hand back to change clothes, Chan's fingers lingered until the last possible second, like he didn’t want to let go of Minho's hand.

Minho’s heart hammered in his chest as they changed. His hand tingled where Chan had held it.

The silence between them was charged, intimate, broken only by the white noise in the room.

“Minho-yah?” Chan whispered.

“Yeah?”

Chan was quiet for a moment.

“Channie?”

“I —” Chan started. He cleared his throat, then simply said, “Ready to go?”

Minho turned slowly, carefully looking Chan up and down. Chan was fidgety and flushed. Nervous, Minho recognized after a moment.

“Yeah, I'm ready.” Minho replied softly.

Chan nodded once before turning and leading the way out of the room.

When they walked out of the room together, their hands didn't meet, and their fingers didn't brush. The distance left in between the two of them was familiar, comfortable, but nothing more. Not like it was earlier.

The reality of it hit Minho like a bucket of ice water dropped on his head. Sudden, shocking, sobering.

They weren’t dating.

Even though today felt like a date.

Even though Minho wished it was a date.

It wasn’t.

Later that night, Minho was curled up in bed watching anime on his laptop. It was something he’d seen before, and he was barely paying any attention to it. His mind kept wandering to the day he’d had with Chan.

He kept imagining the warmth of Chan’s company, Chan’s squeaky laugh that had no business being as cute as it was. And the way Chan’s hand felt in his own — strong and secure.

Minho sighed.

The closing theme song blast through the speakers, making him flinch. He had zoned out for the entire episode and didn’t even realize.

Just as he clicked next episode, his phone pinged.

He glanced down at his watch to see who texted, and immediately shot up in bed, hastily hitting pause, and tossing the laptop aside.

Channie

Aphrodisiac chocolate?

Minho’s eyes landed on the little bag sitting on his desk — the special treat they’d taken home from their appointment today.

Minho

Yeah

Anniversary package strikes again lol

The three little dots appear and disappear over and over again — Chan typing, erasing, and typing again.

Minho watched, a small chuckle slipping out. This wasn’t like Chan, second guessing what he wanted to say. Minho was about to type a message, to tease his hyung for taking so long to decide what to say back, when Chan finally hit send.

Channie

Would it be weird if we tried them?

Minho dropped his phone.

He took a deep breath and picked it up again. The message was still there.

He blinked approximately forty-seven times.

Now it was his turn to type and erase and type again.

Minho

Would it be weird if I asked how they felt for you?

Minho’s heart hammered in his chest. Sure, they’d talked about sex before, but not often, and certainly not in this context.

The three little dots appeared, disappeared, and didn’t come back.

Minho gave it a minute, just case. When Chan still hadn't said anything back, Minho replied again, elaborating on his earlier question.

Minho

I mean, I’ve never done something like this before

If I get super affected, I’d want to know I wasn’t alone

If nothing happens, then I’d want to laugh about it with someone

Minho chewed the inside of his lip raw. Chan had been the one to bring this up, why wasn’t he replying now?

Minho

I mean, I don’t need the details, Channie

Minho thought for a moment, hesitating.

Minho

Unless you wanted to

Channie

You wouldn’t mind?

The details?

Chan’s response was immediate. Minho stared at it, bows slightly furrowed, mouth slightly agape.

Minho felt a little dizzy, like maybe he was hallucinating.

Maybe he fell asleep while watching anime. He pinched himself.

Nope. Definitely awake.

And Chan’s texts were definitely real.

Minho took a shaky breath.

Minho

You can tell me as much as you want

That was fine, right? Neutral. Leaving things a bit open to interpretation, maybe. Not overly eager, but certainly not aloof either.

Channie

Okay <3

Okay? Okay as in, let’s do it? Minho sucked in a breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

He grabbed one of the chocolate squares, turning it over in his palm a couple of times before tearing the corner of the packaging open and snapping a picture.

Minho

[image]

Bottoms up?

Channie

[image]

Chan sent back a picture of just the empty wrapper.

Electricity shot through Minho’s veins as he popped the chocolate into his mouth. It wasn’t overly sweet, and it melted quickly on his tongue. He flipped the wrapper over, curious how long before it was supposed to kick in. He sent back a picture of the now-empty wrapper as well.

Minho

[image]

It says it’ll take around a half hour or so to kick in

Text me as much or as little as you want

I’ll just be watching anime until I don’t want to do that anymore

If it’s too much, you can call me

Channie

You sure?

Minho

Promise

It didn’t take long before Minho started to feel a bit restless — a bit pent up, perhaps. He shifted in bed, trying to get comfortable again.

Minho checked his phone just in case, but there was nothing new from Chan.

He tried to settle back into the anime he was watching, but Minho once again had a hard time focusing. Although this time, it was for an entirely different reason.

A few minutes later, Minho got up and shed his sweats, sitting back in bed in just a tank top and boxer briefs. He was really warm, and a little tingly; it was kind of a nice feeling.

“Guess these chocolates do do something after all.” Minho murmured to himself, tilting his head back and exhaling slowly as a sharp wave of need flooded through his core.

He paused the anime and pushed his laptop aside. The idea of watching anime now felt a bit overwhelming as the coil inside him wound tighter and tighter. If he was being honest, he wasn’t expecting the chocolates to do much of anything, so this was kind of a nice surprise.

He reached over to his nightstand and took out his bottle of lube, dropping it next to him on the bed. He had a feeling it wouldn't be long now before he needed it.

Just as his mind drifted to Chan, wondering how he was doing, wondering if it was this intense for him too, his phone rang.

Minho answered on the first ring.

“Minho?” Chan’s voice was sharp and breathy.

“Yeah, Channie?” Minho startled at how raw his own voice sounded.

“It’s strong.”

“Yeah.” Minho chuckled.

“Do — d’you feel it, too?” Chan whispered.

“Yeah, I do. Are — Are you okay?” Minho breathed slowly, trying to steady himself. Hearing Chan’s voice like this right now was doing dangerous things to his insides.

“Um, yeah. I — um,” Chan stuttered, his voice trailing off at the end.

Minho hesitated, not sure what to do, what to say.

“C-can you, um, maybe —” Chan paused. “I just — I don't wanna — um, be alone?”

“Do — do you want me to stay? On the phone? While you — I mean — we can — you know — together? We can do it together? If you want?” God, what was he even saying right now? Minho pressed the heel of his palm against his rapidly hardening cock, hissing at the pressure.

“Yeah, yeah.” Chan rushed out. “Please?”

Minho couldn’t help the tiny, desperate sound that escaped his lips. “Mmm, of course Channie, I’m here.” he breathed.

“Minho-yah,”

“Mhmm?”

“I'm so h— it's — are you warm? It's — I'm so hot. I need — can I — um,” Chan's voice sounded desperate, needy.

Fucking hell, was he asking for permission to strip? Minho was not going to survive this phone call.

“Y-yeah, get comfy, Chan-ah.”

“Okay,” Chan whispered.

Minho pulled the phone back and clicked speakerphone on. Soft shuffles and static spilled from the little speaker. He turned the volume down a bit, just in case, and placed the phone on his chest, right below his collarbone.

Another soft rustle from Chan’s end of the line sent sparks shooting through Minho. Anticipation mounted as Minho thought about what was happening on the other end of the line.

Chan throwing off his shirt.

Chan shoving his sweats down below his hips.

Chan’s cock, hard and flushed and leaky, throbbing against his stomach, pulsing in his hand as he slicked it up with lube.

Minho’s heart thundered in his chest as he shoved his boxer briefs down, his own aching cock smacking against his hip. He picked up the bottle of lube and clicked it open.

“Channie?” he whispered, hesitating before pouring the lube onto his hand.

A brief moment of silence, and then Chan was there. “Yeah?”

“Is this — are you — ready, I guess?” Minho panted. He squeezed the head of his cock, his breath hitching. He was so sensitive, so hard, the ache inside him burning white hot.

“Yeah, are you?” Chan’s voice was high pitched and tight.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Minho heard a faint, yet unmistakable click, and a second later, a sharp gasp.

“Fuck,” Chan whispered.

Minho felt dizzy, his mind hazy with lust from the chocolate, the tension inside capturing every nerve, pulling all his attention to his singular point of need.

Minho poured lube directly onto his cock, wincing at the cool temperature. Pleasure surged as he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it slowly, finally easing the pressure that had built up. A sharp whine punched out of him before he could stop it.

“Hah — Minho!” Chan gasped, and fuck, Minho nearly lost it right there.

“Yeah, Channie? Feel good?” Minho managed, his hand picking up the pace on his cock.

“Nnngh — yeah — hah,” Chan whimpered.

“Yeah, me too, Channie, feels good.”

Minho’s free hand slipped under his shirt, finding his nipple and pinching the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He twisted his hand across the head of his cock with every pass, shock waves of need punching through him with increasing urgency.

Breathy gasps fell freely from Minho’s lips as the flames of his desire climbed higher and higher. He threw is head back as Chan's shaky breaths continued next to his ear.

Chan’s labored breaths crackling through the phone mirrored his own — airy and desperate, bordering on frantic.

Their shared urgent breaths weaved together with the slick sounds of lube as Minho worked his cock faster, harder.

Heat from the chocolate coursed through his veins, winding him up impossibly tight, tighter than he had felt in a long time.

Minho was trying to be quiet, trying to keep a shred of composure, and was failing miserably. He couldn't help the moans escaping his chest no matter what he did.

Biting his lip didn't help, holding his breath made it worse.

He was drowning in pleasure, clinging to the endless waves of sensation ripping through him like they were the only thing keeping him tethered.

By the whimpers on the other line, Chan was fairing about the same.

“Minho — I can't —” Chan cried, his voice cracking. He sounded near tears.

“‘s okay, Chan-ah, ‘m here,” Minho slurred.

“Please, ple — hnng!” Chan begged.

Chan’s words shot through Minho with blinding force. He moaned, loud and unrestrained. His cock pulsed in his hand, precum leaking freely down his fingers.

“Fuck — Channie, you close?”

“Mhmm,” Chan panted.

“Hah — me too.”

“I — I need — Min — please — n-need,”

Minho's breath caught.

“Yeah, Ch-Channie, y-you can —”

A loud cry ripped through the phone speaker.

Minho pictured Chan spilling across his stomach, his face flushed deep red, brows knitted tight as pleasure crashed through him.

Seconds later, Minho’s own orgasm cracked through him. His cock twitched sharply as he shot white ropes across his chest and stomach.

Minho’s chest heaved as he worked himself through his orgasm, his hips twitching as he milked the last drops of his release onto his shirt.

Minho panted as he felt the adrenaline begin to dissipate through his veins, a wash of cool spreading from the top of his head down through his whole body.

For several minutes, neither Minho nor Chan said anything. The only thing that broke the silence was the sound of them catching their breath.

A faint tingling sensation lingered in Minho’s body, like the embers of a dying fire clinging to the scattered remains of charcoal.

Minho swallowed, his throat parched.

“Channie?” he finally said.

A beat of silence, and then, “Yeah?” Chan’s voice was quiet, spent.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “That was really intense.”

“Yeah, it was.” Minho chuckled, barely. He was wiped. He needed to clean up. He felt on the verge of sleep, but he didn’t want to hang up.

Him and Chan just breathed together in silence for a bit longer, and Minho got the sense that Chan didn’t want to hang up either.

“Minho-yah,” Chan finally said.

“Mmm?”

“I’m gonna — um. I’m gonna go clean up now.”

“Okay, Channie.” Minho was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay, Channie.”

“Good night, Minho-yah.” Chan whispered. His voice was so soft that Minho barely caught it.

“Good night, Channie.”

The call ended. Minho’s phone beeped, and then the screen went dark.

Minho took a deep breath in, and exhaled even more deeply. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, the fuzz in his head finally starting to clear.

As reality sank in around him for the second time that day, Minho began to wonder what tomorrow would bring.

Because despite everything that happened today, Minho and Chan weren't dating.

Even though today, it almost felt like they were.

5.🐰

The fifth time Minho and Chan were mistaken for a couple, they were picking up takeout on the way back to Minho’s apartment after work.

It wasn’t even one of their so-called work dates; it was the next afternoon, the day after they ate those chocolates — the day after Minho had come with Chan’s name on his lips and his moans in his ringing in ear.

The whole day up to that point had been, well, weird. Minho and Chan were weird around one another.

Chan had tried to tease Minho like always, and Minho just walked away, feeling more overwhelmed than anything else.

Minho had tried to tease Chan as well, like always, and Chan reacted the same way. He just backed away, seemingly overwhelmed.

From an outside perspective that in and of itself wasn’t too weird. Sometimes that's just how they were with one another.

What was weird, however, was that this cycle repeated itself several times throughout the day; neither Chan nor Minho were able to catch each other at the right time.

All their jokes fell flat.

All their normal banter, normal teasing, it just didn’t hit right.

And after a little while, the others noticed the tension between them too. Concerned glances met raised eyebrows and shared whispers.

Eventually, Changbin pulled Chan aside at the same time Seungmin cornered Minho against the back wall of the dance studio. It was definitely a joint operation with the way the two of them swooped in and separated Minho and Chan at the same time.

Minho sighed. “What, Seungmin?”

“Why are you being weird around Channie-hyung?”

Minho exhaled a single laugh. He always appreciated how straightforward Seungmin could be.

“I — it’s — um,” Minho stalled. How should he even begin talking about this? What was he supposed to say?

How was he supposed to say that they were right all along, that he’d had a crush on Chan for, well since forever, basically, and that he'd been doing great at pretending like that wasn't the case, but now strangers were mistaking them for a couple, it was getting a little hard to keep pretending?

And that Minho had booked them a massage together and the massage was great but it felt a little too close, a little too real, a little bit too much like they were dating, only to be harshly reminded at the end that they weren't?

And that they had jerked off together last night on the phone because the massage place sent them home with aphrodisiac chocolate that actually worked way too well, and now Chan’s breathy whines were repeatedly echoing through his mind louder than his own thoughts?

And that now, he had no idea what to do, what to think, or how to even pretend to be normal around Chan right now?

It was a lot.

It was too much.

Maybe Minho just needed time, space, something, he didn’t know.

“Hyung?” Seungmin’s soft voice pulled Minho back out of his thoughts. “Hey, you don't need to tell me if it's personal or whatever. I just want to help. You two seem — I don't know, off? Just know that I'm here. We all are. And if there's something we can do, let me know? Let one of us know? Please?”

Minho looked down and nodded.

“We just want you two to be okay.”

That's all Minho wanted too.

“I just don't know what to do.” Minho whispered.

“It's just Channie-hyung. Whatever it is, he'll listen. He'll understand. That man can never hold a grudge, especially not against you. He loves you too much for that. Just talk it out with him.”

Seungmin was right. “I'll try.” Minho whispered.

He pulled out his phone and scheduled a takeout order for pick-up after work from Chan’s favorite chicken place.

After they had wrapped up for the day, Minho had grabbed Chan’s arm and dragged him out the door without explanation.

“Minho — what? Where are we —”

“Chicken.” Minho replied.

“Huh?” Chan’s confusion would normally be endearing. Today it was maddening.

That wasn’t Chan’s fault, though. Minho just felt a bit like he needed to shed his own skin, and it was getting worse the longer time went on.

Minho didn’t reply. He let go of Chan’s arm once they were on the street, and Chan followed him without protest.

That simple action, that display of profound trust Chan had in him made Minho want to dissolve into the ground.

His heart ached. Normally he'd be able to keep his feelings for Chan at bay.

Normally he'd be able to carry on without being weighed down by everything he'd never said out loud.

But today was different. Minho's brain was stuck.

And for some strange reason, it seemed like Chan’s brain might be stuck, too.

So, here they were, waiting in line to pick up their takeout, a heavy silence sitting in between them. It was strange, uncomfortable, snarling in between Minho’s ribs, marring the fragile muscle housed behind them.

Chan didn’t seem to be fairing much better, if the way he was picking at his fingers was anything to go by.

Both Minho and Chan were so caught up in their own thoughts that they hadn't even realized it until the cashier mentioned it.

“You guys are so cute, I love when couples wear matching outfits~”

Startled, Minho and Chan turned and looked each other up and down. They had brought the exact same outfit to change into after dance practice today.

How did something like that even happen?

Minho felt himself flush, and when he glanced at Chan, he saw that his ears were bright red.

Minho thanked the cashier and they made their way outside, the bag of chicken hanging around Minho’s wrist and Chan on his heels.

The walk back to Minho’s dorm was also silent. Thoughts raced through Minho's brain faster than he could keep up.

Minho knew why he was being weird around Chan. But why was Chan being weird around him?

Was last night a mistake?

Was the entire day yesterday a mistake?

Did Minho cross a line with Chan?

Seungmin’s words from earlier echoed around the edges of his spiraling thoughts. He knew he needed to talk to Chan, he knew he did. But how much should he say? And what would he do if they talked, and then everything just got worse?

Minho exhaled sharply.

“Everything okay, Minho-yah?” Chan asked softly.

Minho turned to look at him. He paused, considering how to even approach the question.

“Chicken first.” Minho eventually said. He definitely wasn’t stalling or anything. It’d just be a shame for it to get cold.

They entered their dorm building, their shoes echoing loudly against the smooth floor of the lobby as they make their way to the elevator.

Minho and Chan reached to hit the call button for the elevator at the same time, their fingers brushing together.

Chan flinched back. “Sorry,” he mumbled under his breath. His ears were still red. Had they gotten redder? Minho wasn’t sure.

A pleasant chime announced the elevator’s arrival, and they both stepped inside. Minho pressed the button for their floor, and turned to face Chan, leaning back against the wall.

Chan stood back against the opposite wall, his gaze downcast, and Minho noticed for the first time today just how tired he looked.

“Hyung?” Minho whispered.

“Mmm?” Chan looked up.

“I’m —”

The elevator shuttered, squeaked, and came to a halt. The lights blinked off, then on, then off again.

“Uh,” Minho started. “Wh—”

A generator whirred somewhere in the distance, and the emergency lights clicked on.

Minho and Chan stared at one another, frozen, eyes wide.

Minho blinked several times, trying to process the situation at hand.

“Okay.” Chan took a deep breath. “Okay.” He said again, and stepped in front of the button panel. He pressed the emergency call button, and a shrill ring sounded from the little speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a moment.

“Hi, uh, we're stuck, the elevator isn't moving, and um, the emergency lights are on?” Chan said.

“Okay. I'll call dispatch and have them send emergency services. Is anyone hurt?”

“No. We’re fine.”

“Okay. It may be a little bit if they are busy. If anything changes, just hit the call button again.”

“Thank you.” Chan sighed and turned to Minho.

Minho looked at Chan for a moment, then sank down to the floor, sitting cross-legged with the take out in his lap.

Chan went back to his spot across from Minho and sat as well, pulling his legs up to his chest, and leaning his head on his knees.

Minho and Chan stared at one another. Normally this would be the time when one of them would make a joke, say something snarky to lighten the mood, but they’d both grown weary over the course of the day.

The space in between them felt larger than it actually was; the elevator wasn’t all that big. But with the weight of all the words left unsaid hanging between them, there might as well have been an ocean in between their feet.

“Here.” Minho reached into the bag and handed Chan his order. “Before it gets cold.”

“Thank you.” Chan replied, taking the box from Minho’s outstretched hand.

They got about halfway through their meals before Minho couldn't take the silence anymore.

“Are we going to talk about it, Hyung?” Minho’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Chan startled, his eyes snapping to Minho’s. “Talk about what?”

“You know.”

Chan exhaled deeply.

“Don't. Don't tell me it’s nothing. You've been off all day, just like I have. I saw Changbin talking with you. And Seungmin cornered me. They noticed. They all know something's wrong. Please, Chan, please, I can't —” Minho's breath hitched.

“Minho —”

“Seungmin told me to talk to you.” Minho continued. “Seungmin said that no matter what it was, you'd understand. That you love me too much and that you'd never let anything get in the way of that. So why does it feel like there's this huge wall in between us right now?” Minho's voice broke. “Where’d my Channie go?” Tears welled in Minho’s eyes, threatening to spill over his lashes.

“Changbin told me I was an idiot.” Chan said, exhaling a humorless laugh.

“What?” Minho sniffled and blinked about seventeen times.

“Do you remember a couple of months ago when we were at the bar drinking those honey matcha drinks? And I took pictures of you that I was gonna send on bubble?”

Minho nodded slowly, thoroughly confused. Now that Chan mentioned it, he had been curious about that. But why was this what Chan was talking about now, of all things?

Chan took a deep breath. “Ask me why I never posted them.”

“Why —”

“Because I couldn't.” Chan's voice was strained. Raw.

Minho's heart thudded loudly in his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Because I looked at them after I got home that night and I didn't want to share them with anyone else. I wanted to keep them just for me.”

Chan's words settled into Minho's brain like sand through an hourglass; achingly slow, only a single piece at a time.

“Hyung, I — I don't —” Minho started, shaking his head.

“It's okay, I didn’t understand for a bit either. I called Changbin that night, and he laughed at me. He said I needed to use this brain of mine for something other than writing songs for once, and then hung up.”

Minho scoffed.

“I know.” Chan shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So I thought about it some more, and I whined to Changbin some more. He was no help, he said that he couldn't tell me. That it wasn't his thing to tell. He said once I realized it, it would be clear as day. D’y’know how hard it is to think about something when you don't know what you're trying to think about?”

“Chan, what are you getting at?” Minho asked. His brain was hurting trying to absorb what Chan was telling him. He thought he understood what Chan was trying to say. But it couldn’t be right.

Could it?

“I told Changbin about our date yesterday.”

Date.

Date.

Not work date.

Not “the massage”.

Not something equally as stupid or just as avoidant.

Date.

Minho's ears rang. He felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead.

“Minho-yah, look at me.”

Minho sucked in a deep breath. He felt a small tremor shake through him as he met Chan’s gaze.

“Our work dates were never really about work for you, were they?” Chan asked softly.

Minho swallowed thickly, his eyes wide, disbelieving.

“Because I don't think they've been about work for me for a little while now. And I've only just now realized it.”

Minho’s whole world tilted.

“Hyung —”

A loud bang startled them both. The lights overhead flickered, and a gear whirred in the distance.

The emergency response team must be here.

After a lot of loud noises and an awkward climb up, Minho and Chan were safely out of the elevator.

“Thank you so much for the help!” they thanked the emergency response team repeatedly.

They bid their farewells, and then Minho and Chan found themselves alone again.

“Minho-yah,” Chan started. He was hesitant, and seemed a little bit unsure where to go from here. They'd gotten interrupted at a pivotal point in their conversation. There was so much that still needed to be said.

“Will you come over?” Minho asked hurriedly. His voice was paper thin, the last words Chan had said before they got interrupted holding his mind hostage.

“Of course,” Chan said. “Just, give me like fifteen minutes, okay? I — we were sitting on the floor and I’m kind of crawling out of my own skin. I — I know that you’re probably feeling the same way but for a different reason, but just — just give me a couple minutes, I’ll be right there, I promise.”

Minho nodded stiffly. “Okay. Door will be unlocked.”

They go their separate ways, Chan to his dorm, and Minho to his.

The beep of the door code screeched through Minho’s brain, loud and abrasive. He felt like he’d just run a marathon with how fast his heart was beating.

“Hey, Hyung!” Jisung called from around the corner. “Where have you — Hyung? What happened?”

Suddenly Jisung was standing in front of Minho. When did he get there? And why was he blurry? And why was he taking his left over chicken out of his hands?

“Hey, hey, hey, come here, let’s sit down, okay?” Jisung led Minho to the couch, his brows pinched together with worry.

Minho sat down, and felt something land on his thigh.

He looked down and saw a small dark circle. And then another one appeared. And another.

Oh. Minho reached up and touched his cheek. He was crying.

“Jisung-ah,” Minho mumbled. “Channie-hyung,”

Jisung blinked at him when he didn’t continue. “Did — did something happen with Channie-hyung?” Jisung asked carefully.

“He’s — I’m — yes? Something — he’ll be here — ten minutes.”

“Okay, Hyung. Is this a private conversation? Do you need me to wear headphones or leave or something?”

“N-no. Well yes. But no.”

Jisung sighed softly. “Oh, Hyung, what happened? You seemed so upset all day today.”

“You — everyone — you were right.” Minho’s voice cracked. “You were right all along.” He finished in a whisper.

“We were right.” Jisung repeated slowly. “Okay. Is what we were right about a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good.”

Jisung visibly relaxed. “Okay. So it’s just really overwhelming for you?”

Minho nodded.

“Ahh, okay, I think I understand, Hyung.”

Minho looked up at Jisung, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“Hey,” Jisung took Minho’s hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing. “You’re okay.”

Minho took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

They sat together in companionable silence for a few minutes. When the front door clicked, Jisung got up. Minho heard him speak quietly to Chan for a moment before they both returned to the living room.

“I’ll just be in my room while you guys talk, okay? If you need me, I’m here.” Jisung said, and then Minho and Chan were alone.

“Oh, Bunny,” Chan whispered, sitting down next to Minho and pulling him into a tight hug.

“I'm sorry — I don't —” Minho started.

Chan shushed him. “Hey, none of that. I'm the one who should be apologizing.”

“Hmm?”

“For not seeing how much I was hurting you.”

“Hyung, no, you didn't — no.” Minho pulled back out of Chan's arms. “This isn't your fault.”

Chan just raised an eyebrow at Minho. “But I'm supposed to take care of you. Of all of you. And I missed something so obvious that was right in front of me.”

“Hey, I was trying my damnedest to make sure no one knew.” Minho replied.

“And yet, we were being teased this whole time. Did anyone know?” Chan asked.

Minho faltered. He looked down and slowly shook his head.

“Minho-yah.” Chan said, suddenly so serious that it made Minho shiver. “How long.”

“How long what?”

“How long have you been carrying this alone?”

Fuck. Minho did not want Chan knowing this part. This part hurt the most. “Ah — a while?” Minho tried.

“Bunny.” Chan whispered, and oh hell, Minho hated that he was using that nickname now.

It was the nickname that always made his insides soft, and put a smile on his face when he was sad. It was something special, just for him.

“Sincethesurvivalshow.” Minho mumbled.

“You’ve liked me since we were on the survival show.” Chan deadpanned.

Minho nodded.

“And no one knew.”

Minho nodded again.

“And yesterday —” Chan faltered.

Minho flinched and felt himself flush. “Was the anniversary of the show. I know. I know, Hyung.” Minho squeezed his eyes shut.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Chan asked quietly.

Minho huffed. “Why did it take Changbin harassing you for you to realize you liked me back?”

Chan made a guilty looking face.

“Minho-yah, I'm s—”

“If I don't get to apologize, then neither do you, Chan-ah.” Minho teased, smacking Chan’s arm.

Chan’s eyes grew soft, fond. He reached over and took Minho’s hand.

“Is this okay?” Chan asked.

Instead of directly answering, Minho asked, “Stay over tonight?”

“Of course.”

“You owe me a date. I've done such a good job taking care of you lately, it's the least you could do.” Minho declared.

Chan laughed. “Yeah, yeah you got me there. Whatever you want, it's yours.”

Later that night when they slipped under the covers together, Chan held Minho tight against his chest. The house was quiet, and they were on verge of drifting off to sleep.

“Chan-ah?” Minho whispered.

“Mmm?”

“Are we dating for real now?”

“Yeah, Minho, we are.”

Minho smiled against Chan’s chest. “Good night, Channie.”

“Good night, Minho-yah.”

+1.🐰

The first date Minho and Chan went on as a couple was the very next day.

When Minho woke the next morning, he was alone in bed. Immediately, his heart sank.

However, when he patted the pillow behind him just to make sure Chan hadn't just rolled to the other side, his hand brushed up against something.

He turned over and saw a neatly folded note resting on the pillow that Chan had slept on last night.

A hand-written note? Really? But, he couldn't help the way his heart squeezed in his chest, and a smile tugged at his lips.

Minho opened the note.

My dearest Minho,

I'm so sorry you had to wake up alone this morning, but I wanted to make sure I had everything in order for our first REAL date today :)

I will come back to pick you up at 11 today.

♡ Your one and only Hyung

Minho couldn’t help the tiny, shy laugh that bubbled out of him. He felt like he wanted to kick his feet and scream into his pillow with joy.

He felt giddy and alive and a little bit like he still might be dreaming, but once again the pinch test revealed he was very much awake.

He flitted around the apartment all morning, entirely unable to sit still for longer than a few minutes.

Jisung laughed when he saw him. “Wow, Hyung, I guess your conversation with Chan went really well, then.”

“Yeah, it did.” Minho beamed.

“Okay, well if you need me to crash somewhere else tonight, just let me know.”

Minho looked at him in shock. How did he —

“Oh, Hyungie, don't look at me like that.” Jisung was nearly in tears with laughter. “Yes, I know, and no, I wasn’t listening yesterday.” Jisung took a breath, and said more seriously, “I've known for a while. You never talked about it, so I figured you weren't ready. I won't tell anyone; it's not my thing to tell. But know that I'm happy for you two.”

Minho felt like he was going to burst. “Jisung-ahhhhhh.” he whined. His cheeks hurt from the smile that had been glued to his face all morning. “Thank you, seriously.” Minho added.

At 11 on the dot, a there was a soft knock at the door. Minho opened it to find a smiling, blushy Chan standing before him with an arm full of colorful wildflowers.

“Channie!” Minho breathed, covering his face with his hand. “Oh my goodness.” Minho felt his cheeks burn.

“What? I'm nervous, I wanna make sure I made a good impression on our first date.” Chan teased, a playful lilt to his voice. He leaned in, and stage-whispered, “I wanna make sure I score a second date.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

A loud laugh burst out of Minho at Chan’s playfulness as he stepped aside to let Chan into the apartment.

“It's good to see your smile, Minho-yah. I missed it yesterday.” Chan said softly.

They get the flowers situated in a vase, and then head out for their date.

Chan drove this time, telling Minho it was a surprise, he'd see when they got there.

Minho huffed, but he couldn’t keep his usual facade of annoyance up today; he was just too happy.

Chan reached over and took Minho’s hand, lacing their fingers together, a smile tugging at his lips.

Before long, they pull into the parking lot of a café Minho talked about wanting to go to ages ago, but they had never gotten around to visiting.

“Wait, Channie, you remembered I wanted to come here?” Minho exclaimed with delight.

“Of course I did. I always remember what you say.” Chan said earnestly.

Minho glared at him. “Are you gonna be like this all the time now?”

“Like what?” Chan bit his lip to hide a smile.

“You know.”

“Not at all, you have to tell me when I do something wrong, how else am I going to be the best boyfriend you've ever had?”

Minho stilled. Boyfriend.

It was the first time either of them had said that word.

“Ahh, is it too soon for the “b” word? It is only our first date I suppose.” Chan sighed dramatically.

“Chan-ah.”

“Yes, Bunny?”

Minho’s insides went all gooey again. Fucking hell.

“Okay. We are gonna go inside and order drinks and pastries and you’re gonna tell me exactly what Changbin told you yesterday.” Minho got out of the car without waiting for an answer.

The café was themed like a campground. The inside was full of outdoors-y decor, and there was even a large faux fire pit in the center of the room with chairs all around it.

Minho’s eyes lit up as he took in the wooden tables and benches, the lanterns hanging form the ceiling, and the colorful speckled camp mugs all the drinks were served in. The walls were covered with compasses, maps of various trails, and framed pressed leaves and flowers.

They both ordered cappuccinos, because today was a special occasion, and their regular Americano coffee orders felt too boring.

They also ordered several pastries to try together; something with raspberry, something with chocolate, and a slice of layered honey crepe cake.

Their conversation flowed as easily as ever, as easily as it had on any of their work dates in the past, but today, work was the furthest thing from their minds. Flushed cheeks and sparkly eyes took center stage as they laughed together, basking in the giddiness of their newfound connection.

There was a photo booth in the back of the café with silly hats, toy fishing rods, and a variety of other little props that matched the camping theme.

Once they had finished their snacks and drinks, Chan asked Minho if he wanted to go take pictures in it.

“To remember our first real date.” Chan had said, taking Minho’s hand and leading him inside. “We can take some ones with props, and some without, if you’d like.”

The booth was tiny, as all photo booths are. Minho and Chan were pressed up against one another, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as they leaned over the tiny screen and picked out a background for their photos. They decided on one with cartoon stars and moons on it, recalling their time at the pop-up restaurant from a few months ago.

They make a heart with their hands for the first photo.

They turn towards one another, smiling sweetly, heads tipped together for the second photo.

They lean in, their foreheads touching, their lips mere centimeters apart. The third photo snaps.

Their lips touch for the first time. The fourth photo snaps.

The kiss was soft, delicate, restrained. The gentle press of Chan’s lips knocked something loose in Minho’s chest, something that had been chained up for years.

Minho melted into Chan, his heart aching as he finally, finally, finally laid claim to the man he’d yearned for in secret for so many years.

Chan pulled back and cupped Minho’s jaw, his breath stuttering as he looks back and forth between Minho’s eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” Chan whispered.

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

Chan didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed Minho once, twice, three times more before pulling back again.

Minho pouted.

“We are in a photo booth in public, Minho-yah.” Chan sighed.

“Then take me home.” Minho leaned in and kissed Chan again.

“But what about the rest of our date?”

“We’ll go another time.” Minho collected the photos that printed, handing one copy to Chan and smiling down at his own copy.

“After all the work I put in to plan today for you, you want to cut it short?” Chan whined.

“You’ll forgive me.”

Minho and Chan fell into one another as easily as breathing, like it was something they had known how to do all along.

Every touch and every caress landed perfectly; their movements a passionate dance that awoke every every fiber of their being.

Shock waves of pleasure cracked through Minho with blinding intensity as he sank down onto Chan’s length, clinging to Chan’s shoulders tight, like he was afraid Chan would slip away if he let go.

The marks Chan etched into Minho’s chest eased the ache inside him just as much as they fanned the flames of his desire. Minho would look at them tomorrow in the mirror and find comfort in the lingering evidence of their shared devotion.

With every roll of Minho’s hips, Chan’s breaths became needier, whinier, more desperate for release, and before long, Chan begged to come so sweetly that Minho wondered if he’d ever be able to say no.

As Chan’s cock began to pulse deep inside Minho, the thread of tension inside him snapped. Heat blazed though his core as his own release coated both of their stomachs.

As they both come down from their highs, Minho cupped Chan’s jaw, leaning down and planting a languid kiss to his swollen lips.

“So, Chan-ah,” Minho murmured against Chan’s lips. “Where are we going for our second date?”