"What should we eat?" Lu Han asks as Minseok changes into his pajamas in the bathroom. He almost didn't believe it when the older man agreed to having a slumber party, especially since they haven't really spent much time with each other aside from occasionally catching a bite to eat. He's not complaining, but he's still waiting for Minseok to get a phone call and rush off saying something has come up and he can't stay.

"I don't know," Minseok replies, voice muffled by the door separating them. A second later the knob twists and he exits the bathroom, ratty duffle bag in his hands. "Salad? Soup? Endless breadsticks?"

Lu Han's mouth opens but then shuts closed again as he prevents himself from complaining about how Minseok's pajamas — bright red sweatpants and a black t-shirt — are ugly and tasteless in comparison to his own pokemon shirt and patterned drawstring pants. (He decided the footie pajamas could wait for another day).

"Salad? Soup? What do you think this is, the Princess Diaries? We need to eat disgusting and unhealthy microwaved food like real men," Lu Han asserts, not picking up on Minseok's joke.

"Says the guy in a squirtle shirt."

"Hey! Squirtle is the manliest pokemon to ever exist ever," Lu Han says, picking at the front of his white shirt with his favorite water-type pokemon printed on it.

Minseok hums, looking away.

"He is!"

"I never said he wasn't," Minseok says but his voice has this sing-song lilt to it that rubs Lu Han the wrong way. The Chinese singer narrows his eyes.

There is something about teasing Lu Han that just makes Minseok feel so much better about himself. And Minseok would have never have guessed the other was like this when he first spotted him immersed in rehearsal, but Lu Han's stupid deer-like charm and childish personality is so refreshing, something Minseok isn't used to with where he's from, that it is almost impossible for him to feel like he's living the most pathetic life ever. And maybe that's why he cherishes their friendship over any other relationship he has (aside from maybe Tao, but he even has moments where he wishes he and Tao weren't so close).

Tossing his bag onto the bed in Lu Han's spare bedroom, Minseok s it and rummages through his clothes for the small prescription bottle hiding at the bottom. Twisting off the safety cap, he shakes two pills into his palm before closing the bottle and dropping it back into the sea of clothes. He stares at the medicine in his hand. It's been a while since he's taken his prescription. He doesn't really see the point in it because two measly little white pills a day really isn't going to fix anything about him so he usually doesn't take it. But he wants this weekend to go by smoothly, especially if he does decide to stay until Sunday instead of going back to his apartment sometime tomorrow like he originally planned, and while the medicine doesn't guarantee anything, there is a better chance of nothing going wrong if he takes them. He doesn't want to go back though, he wants to stay here or any place else that will take him, because even if he isn't afraid, there is another part of him that is and he knows that as soon as he steps foot in his own part of the city, he's going to crumble.

Maybe that's something else he likes about Lu Han: he's stronger than Minseok will ever dream to be.

Shaking his head, Minseok downs the pills dry — he's been taking them so long he doesn't need a liquid to help them down his throat. And it appears he did so just in time because something hits him in the back of the head and he turns around to see Lu Han standing in the doorway with a toy gun in hand and a determined flare in his eyes. Looking at the floor, he spots what hit him. A neon orange foam bullet.

"Are you really attacking me with a nerf gun?" Minseok raises his left eyebrow and his hip. "How old are you now?"

Lu Han doesn't respond, he just lifts the gun and pulls the trigger. Another foam bullet hits Minseok in the chest.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself, Han."

"Say Squirtle is the greatest and you worship him," Lu Han demands, narrowing his eyes more than they already were.

Running his hand over his face, Minseok groans. He cannot believe this. "I'm not saying that."

Two more bullets hit his chest. "Say it! Or you'll regret it."

Minseok sighs. "Fine." He raises his arms in surrender. "Goldeen is the greatest pokemon and I worship him."

Lu Han, like the idiot he is, calms for a second before he realizes what Minseok has said and his eyes narrow again. "Alright then. You asked for it," he says before erupting into some kind of battle cry and shooting Minseok relentlessly.

At first Minseok doesn't care but the more he's hit, the more it starts to sting, and really, only Lu Han would do something like this. The entire situation is annoying but it's sort of funny too and Minseok may have smiled a little bit as he grabs his bag and uses it as a shield, running toward the back of the room. Lu Han follows him in when he's too far out of the reach of the bullets. Looking around to find to prevent himself from being cornered, Minseok lowers his bag and points to the closet yelling, "Oh my god, what is that?!" When Lu Han pauses in his shooting to look, he takes the chance to escape, running around the oblivious singer who is distracted with trying to figure out what Minseok was pointing at.

"Hey! Get back here and face my wrath," he yells once he realizes he fell for a really old, really stupid trick and runs out after Minseok who attempts to defend himself in the kitchen.

Minseok is breathing hard like he just tried to run a 10k and only made it to three kilometers before giving up, sprawled out across Lu Han’s living room carpet on his stomach, back heaving, cheeks stinging, and a light sweat gluing a few strands of hair to his forehead. This is not what he expected his first slumber party to be like. Is this even a slumber party or has he volunteered to be tortured for two days?

He groans when a socked set of toes digs into his side, pushing him over onto his back. He glares up at the smug smile adorning the equally sweaty face of Lu Han, weakly swatting his hand at his worst enemy for the moment. The Chinese menace jerks his head upwards, signaling Minseok to get off his but the little baozi bun shakes his head, unwilling to move. He maintains a level gaze with the other and when Lu Han rolls his eyes, lifts his toy gun, and disappears down the hall to his room, Minseok sighs in relief. A minute passes without the return of Lu Han and he allows his lids to slip closed over his eyes.

Rolling back to his stomach, he folds his arms and rests his head, face down, on them. He isn’t very religious but he prays for whatever deity exits to guide him through the weekend. Or else, Lu Han’s endless energy is going to kill him and he really isn’t in the mood to die. Not when he has to return home to Kris before the weekend is out.

Speaking of Kris, he should turn his phone off. It's better than having it on. He’s sure that by now Tao has heard of his little excursion to Lu Han’s house, which means the panda faced boy is going to take it into his own hands to keep him updated with Kris’ actions and whereabouts — if Kris picks up an extra work shift, he’ll know; if he decides to get wasted with Chanyeol in some downtown bar, Tao will phone Minseok with the details in less than ten minutes after his first drink. And it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the gesture, but he simply doesn’t care. He might want to know, but Minseok isn’t going to relay the information (not that he could anyway).

And who knows, this can be the weekend Kris himself decides to call, but for the past year Kris only calls when he needs something and Minseok isn’t there to give it to him or when he wants to scare him into submission. That wouldn’t work anyway because he isn’t letting anything go wrong this weekend. All he wants is a few days of peace (if he can call protecting himself from the onslaught of foam nerf bullets peaceful). Nothing is going to ruin this: not Tao, not Kris, not Lu Han’s drowsy friend, and definitely not him.

The stiff plush of something coming down on his so suddenly makes him jolt and pushes a tiny squeak from his mouth. He flops like a fish onto his side, arms waving manically in front of him in a futile attempt to block the pillow from hitting him again. Lu Han’s laugh twinkles in the air, like a lively collection of wind chimes, and it would bring a smile to Minseok’s face if he wasn’t being assaulted for the second time today.

He scrambles to the couch and takes hold of his own weapon — a small, out of place throw pillow — and turns around to start whacking Lu Han’s shins with it.

“You’re not allowed to hit back!” Lu Han screeches, still bringing his pillow down on Minseok’s head.

“What do you mean I’m not allowed to hit back? This is war.”

Minseok laughs, shoving the singer so he can push himself up from his awkward lean on the couch and run down the hall. He enters the last door and immediately tries to shut it but Lu Han wedges his foot between the door and the frame.

“Don’t try to run and hide now! I thought this was war.”

Ignoring the taunts of the other, Minseok continues to try to push the door closed, kicking at Lu Han’s foot to get it out of the way. Noticing this, Lu Han shoves his pillow between the opening as an extra support against the defensive Minseok.

“Are you forfeiting? Are you a chicken?”

When Lu Han starts to make obnoxious chicken calls, Minseok relaxes his force and backpedals, allowing the former to force his way through the door. As soon as the knob slams against the drywall, Minseok draws his arm back and sends the pillow into Lu Han’s face. Lu Han retaliates with hitting Minseok in the jaw. This, of course, leads to them running around Lu Han’s bedroom, jumping over the decent-sized bed with rumpled navy sheets and using it as a barrier between them. Lu Han uses the threat of no ice cream again to get Minseok to give up but, just as earlier, it really has no effect. There is no time for ice cream in war.

After the impromptu pillow fight, they collapse on Lu Han’s couch with small giggles still shaking their bodies and wide grins on their faces. Minseok melts into the cushion and into Lu Han’s side, laying his head against the other’s upper arm. Now that they’ve settled down, Minseok feels his enthusiastic high come crashing down, leaving him feeling a little more than dazed. He yawns wide and then, out of nowhere, Lu Han starts to laugh. Inclining his head to the right, Minseok looks at the other.

“What,” he questions, not understanding the cause for the laughter.

Lu Han shakes his head and coos. “Aw, is little baby Minseok sleepy already,” he jokes, pinching Minseok’s cheek with his left hand since his right arm is currently being used as a pillow.

Glaring, Minseok slaps Lu Han’s thigh, too worn out to do anything else. He doesn’t understand how the younger man lives. They’re only a month apart but Lu Han has the energy of a thousand puppies.

Laughing, Lu Han ruffles Minseok’s already messy hair. “How about a movie,” he suggests, digging his hand between the cushion he’s sitting on and the arm of the couch, pulling the television remote from it’s usual hiding place.

He turns on the television and the sound of some late-night sitcom fills the living room. Minseok nods beside him, still leaning against his arm. At the agreement, he flips through the channels, looking for something for them to watch. He settles on a random channel during a commercial break, distracted by a sudden thought.

“You know, Min, we still haven’t eaten anything and it’s,” he pauses, glancing at the simple, analog clock hanging on the wall above his television, “nearing on midnight.”

Minseok makes a noncommittal noise, shifting slightly so his legs are on the couch as well. Out of his peripherals, Lu Han notices the other’s closed eyelids and the sweep of his eyelashes. Feeling put-out by the swimming in his gut that he labels as extreme hunger, he slips away out of Minseok’s grasp, determined to find something to eat to fix this strange feeling in his stomach.

When Lu Han walks out into his living room with two bowls in hand (he decided cereal is an okay substitute for greasy, unhealthy man’s food when a man is too lazy to cook something) and places them onto the small coffee table he usually forgets exists, he glances up through his eyelashes to see Minseok curled into himself, legs tucked into his chest and head resting against his shoulder and the back of the couch, asleep. He breathes soft and delicate, almost as if he’s not breathing at all, through pale parted lips that have begun to dry out and suddenly he thinks Minseok is three parts bad attitude, one part nonathletic, one part anti-Squirtle, and all unnatural beauty.

But then he wants to hit himself because it’s wrong to think one of your good friends is gorgeous, beautiful, attractive (even if he thought Minseok was attractive when they first met, it’s different now that they know each other better) except he never lets go of one of the bowls and he tips it over when his hand jerks, the plastic of the bowl hitting the glass of the coffee table with a dull thud and the corn flakes swimming out on a white wave of milk.

Swearing, Lu Han quickly rights the bowl but the damage is already done as the milk spills off the side of the table and onto his precious carpet. Deciding to not throw his hands in the air and yell out dramatically because he doesn’t want to wake up the other, Lu Han stands and rushes into the kitchen, and grabs a hand towel from beside the sink. Upon returning, he notices that the second bowl of cereal is gone and he raises an eyebrow, confused.

“Thanks for waking me up before I could even get to sleep, .”

And there, sitting on the couch with open but tired eyes, is Minseok with his lips wrapped around a spoon and the bowl of cereal sitting in his now cross-legged lap.

Lu Han snorts, crouching beside the table to wipe up the spilled milk, muttering, “Wow, someone is testy when they need their sleep.” Minseok says something under his breath as well but Lu Han doesn’t pick it up, focusing on cleaning up his mess.

“Leave that alone and come have some of these soggy corn flakes.”

Holding back a laugh, Lu Han drops the rag and pushes himself up to his feet. “You’re bossy too,” he says, sitting next to Minseok on the couch again. He holds out his hands to take the bowl from the other but, to his surprise, Minseok shakes his head and lifts the spoon, dripping and filled with milk and mangled cereal, to his lips.

Eyebrows raised, Lu Han looks from the spoon to Minseok's tired face to the spoon again. "Are you really trying to fee—

"Eat the damn cereal."

"Yes mother."

And after Minseok force-feeds him the cereal, they head off to bed because Minseok looks like he's sleepwalking and Lu Han is afraid he's going to be threatened into something more endangering than eating soggy cereal.

Plus, even though he feels totally alert, Lu Han must be tired because when he closes his eyes he sees Minseok's smile and that's more wrong than Sehun and Baekhyun doing...whatever insestual nastiness it is that they do so obviously he's exhausted to the point of insanity.

Right?