Physically drained, mentally fatigued and sticky with dried sweat from practice, Taemin unlocked the door of Shinee’s dorm (Shinee’s dorm, he thought proudly) and stumbled in. His bag slipped to the floor as he kicked off his shoes, but he was afraid if he bent down now he would simply stay down and sleep right there in the entryway. Locking the door behind him again, Taemin passed the kitchen and immediately went to his room to dump his bag on his bed and strip his clothes off.

 

Dance practice had killed today, and the SM instructor kept Taemin behind for a short personal review, mainly since Shinee had been too busy with Replay promotions to attend practice for the past three days. In fact, he was the only one who’d been able to make it today, and he pitied his hyungs for their busy schedules. His muscles were feeling every day of missed practice. Now, he’d somehow managed to arrive home early enough to fall straight into bed. He’d eaten on the way home, so all Taemin wanted was a hot shower and sleep.

 

Grabbing his towel and wrapping it clumsily around his waist, he quickly went to the bathroom, feeling grimy and disgusting. However, he had to stop short in front of the door as he realized someone was already in the shower. Biting back the urge to slide to the floor in despair, he spared his bruised knees by grabbing the handle anyways and knocking loudly with his other hand.

 

“Hyung? Hey, who’s in here? Hurry up, I need to shower!”

 

Only a muffled “What?” came through the door as a reply, but now Taemin knew it was Minho inside. This was good then.

 

“Oh, good, it’s you hyung. I’m coming in, okay?” When another “what?” was his only reply, taemin rolled his eyes and pushed the door open.

 

“Minho-hyung, it’s me. I’m home. I’m just going to brush my teeth, okay?” For a moment the shower curtain was pulled back and Minho’s face appeared, hair soaped up and water dripping off his nose.

 

“Oh, hi Taemin-ah. I’ll be done in a minute.” Taemin smiled and turned, grabbing his toothbrush.

 

“Hey Minho-hyung, how come you never lock the bathroom door?” he asked absentmindedly, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush.

 

“The door?” came Minho’s reply. “Uh, I don’t know.” There was a pause. “I guess…what if there’s a fire or something, and I’m stuck in here all wet and I can’t get out fast enough?” Caught off guard, Taemin let a rather unattractive snort escape him. He looked toward the shower, even though Minho couldn’t see him.

 

“So rather than being worried about the fact that you’re and helpless or anything, you worry about not being able to unlock the door?” he asked, propping his towel-clad hip against the sink. Unfazed, Minho replied, “Whatever. I always bring boxers in here at least. And the unlocked door let you in just now, didn’t it?”

 

“I guess,” Taemin replied, voice muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth. Idly, he pushed his hair out of his face so he could look at his forehead and see if he was breaking out. His manager would kill him if he was. They were quiet as Minho finished his shower and Taemin fussed about, pulling his long bangs into an apple ponytail.

 

Taemin was glad that Minho was the one home. Though he’d known all his Shinee hyungs for a while, he felt most comfortable with Minho. Maybe it was their closeness in age or Minho’s quiet, warm presence, but in the time of debut (actual debut, finally, he thought) and promotions, everyone had been so scattered and excitable that he had missed little moments like this. Moments where no one was fussing over him, making him eat or drink or rest or do the dance move just one more time.

 

Out of all his hyungs Minho was the one whose shower he could interrupt for mundane conversation, who he knew wouldn’t mind. Minho would know without words that all Taemin wanted was a little attention--at his own demand. Minho was his best friend, and he always knew what Taemin wanted (needed), and maybe he coddled him a little like his other hyungs, because he always gave it to him.

 

Maybe I’m a little spoiled, Taemin thought, grinning at his foggy, foamy-mouthed complexion, but he’s just my Minho-hyung. It’s practically his job. Still smiling a little at his silly thoughts, Taemin spat and rinsed. He was so absorbed that he didn’t notice the shower had turned off, only the deepness of Minho’s voice startling him out of his thoughts.

 

“What are you giggling at, Maknae?” Minho asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. Taemin turned to see him step out of the shower and reach for his towel, drying off his hair. Averting his eyes (he always did, even though he’d seen Minho plenty of times before. He just couldn’t do it, and it made him feel a little weird so he just tried not to think about it because it didn’t really matter), he didn’t answer asking instead, “how come you never dry off inside the shower? You’re dripping water all over the floor.”

 

Minho stepped forward, roughly rubbing the edge of his towel over Taemin’s mouth and chin before he (thankfully) wrapped it around his waist. “Probably the same reason you never wipe your face after you brush your teeth, hm?” Smiling, he tugged at Taemin’s ponytail. “Cute.”

 

Blushing at the tease, Taemin yanked the binder out of his hair. “Aish, I was just messing around. If you just didn’t take so darn long in the shower…”

 

“Oh-ho! You’re just full of complaints today, aren’t you Taeminnie?” Minho asked, his use of Taemin’s nickname sending warm butterflies into the boys stomach. He stood behind Taemin, almost a head taller, and flexed his skinny arms.

 

“For your information, we have that photoshoot tomorrow and there was a rather embarrassing note on the fridge from manager-hyung, instructing all of us to shave, you filthy heathens. So currently, you are a filthy, hairy heathen and I am, well…” He flexed again, curling his lip in what he probably thought was a manly sort of sneer, and Taemin didn’t try to hide his snort this time.

 

“Oh, you’re still a heathen alright, hyung, now you’re just a silky smooth heathen,” he drawled, reaching back and poking Minho’s armpits with both his index fingers, which resulted in a punishing headlock as Minho glared at him in the mirror. They tussled, Taemin feeling warm and if he was completely honest, a little dizzy, as Minho’s skin was damp and hot and he smelled so good, fresh from the shower.

 

Weird hormonal outbursts aside (he was not thinking about his hyung that way, he was just having—growing pains or something), Taemin was happy as he squirmed out his hyungs grasp, whipping the hand mirror off the counter to smack against his hyungs chest in defense from his tickling hands. He felt oddly refreshed already, glad that Minho was still Minho besides the crazy week they’d had, not all quiet and awkward like he still was in interviews (well, they all were, besides stupid Key), or possessed with that burning focus he got when they went on stage. He was still his Minho, who was still just seventeen; young enough to let his hyungs take care of him and yet old enough to be strong for Taemin.

 

As he let his favorite hyung catch him in a tight, chest-to-chest hug, ruffling his hair in a way that was annoying with anyone but Minho, Taemin secretly clung just a little tighter. If he closed his eyes for just a second when Minho pressed his open palm to his back, if he savored his touch just a little more than his other hyungs’, then it was just because he’d had a very tiring week.

 

With a final pat on the from Minho, they broke apart--Minho still grinning, both a little out of breath. Taemin knew his cheeks were warm, but so was Minho’s smile. “Have you eaten yet?” Minho asked, turning to grab a comb and slicking it through his hair.

 

Humming vaguely, Taemin inspected Minho’s profile as he stood; his jet black hair smoothed back from his forehead for once, his sharp nose and high cheekbones and the triangles of his still-wet eyelashes. Taemin’s gaze drifted down to Minho’s jaw line and his long, slender neck.

 

Transfixed, he watched a little drop of water drip from Minho’s nape down between sharp shoulder blades, and suddenly Taemin was reminded that Minho was still growing too. Washed by a wave of tenderness, he reached out and traced the drop from just there, on his spine, back over his collarbone and up to the curve of one broad, almost too-thin shoulder; beautiful.

 

“Uhm, Taeminnie?” Minho prodded, smirking bemusedly at him in the mirror as he set down his comb and straightened. Taemin’s arm fell back to his side as he realized what he was doing, and he couldn’t help the blush as he grasped for something to say.

 

“You’re pretty skinny, huh, hyung?” was wall he could muster, but it brought the flash of competition back into Minho’s eyes.

 

“You’re pretty smart today, huh, dongsaeng? You asking for another fight?” He leaned over, face too close to Taemin’s, the hand on his neck too warm and rough and Minho. He smiled, cocky, and deepened his voice purposefully as he purred, “Do you want me to prove to you how strong I am, little girl?”

 

It was ridiculous and corny and just plain awful, but Taemin could taste Minho’s breath in his own mouth and he was abruptly dizzy--and he didn’t think it was Minho’s thumb pressing to his throat. Or maybe it was. Either way, it took an embarrassing amount of willpower not to swallow hard and stutter; instead, he raised both hands to Minho’s chest and shoved.

 

“You are so gross, hyung, seriously,” he managed, continuing to shove Minho backwards out of the bathroom, heart thumping. “You’re not going to charm any noonas if you keep that up.”

 

“I don’t need to charm noonas if I can charm you—hey—my boxers are still in there!” Taemin didn’t listen, finally wrestling Minho out of the bathroom and quickly slamming the door in his face, locking it with trembling fingers.

 

“Oh, come on, Taemin-ah, I take it back, Taemin-aahh…” Taemin knew Minho was slumped outside the bathroom door, but he couldn’t bring himself to care or reply. He was too occupied with dropping his own self to the bathroom floor, pressing his hot cheek to the cool tile. With his mostly- hyung outside the bathroom door and that hyungs’ scent still fogging his brain, his body hot and himself reduced to lying on a cold bathroom floor to keep his sanity, Lee Taemin knew he was in some serious trouble.