Oh yes, this was definitely a bad idea.

By the end of his first trimester, his twelfth week, Minho noticed he was beginning to show.

Minho thought it started with Taemin’s eyes.

Taemin comes home to take a shower and finds that the bathroom is already occupied.

Insomnia wasn’t something Minho had really considered before.

  This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a joke. There was simply no way that someone could enjoy torturing Minho this much.  

Standing there, in the wide marble hallway with the love of his life clinging to him in a manner that should absolutely not be this warm, Minho realized he had been thoroughly steamrolled; he was sleeping with Taemin tonight. 

“Hey, Minnie, would you…do something for me?” Minho asked, voice low as he spoke across the table to Taemin. The boy stopped eating, raising his head to meeting his look with hot eyes as he immediately caught his drift.