Rating: G
Words: 400

“Hey dude.”

“Hm?” Minseok doesn’t look up from his phone.

“Let me see your arms.”

“My arms?” Minseok frowns, but offers Luhan one lazy hand.

Luhan takes Minseok by the wrist and turns his arm over.

“Wow, they’re totally right!”

“Wait, what?” Minseok finally tears his attention away from his phone to give Luhan a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve just been reading some fansites,” Luhan explains. “People are talking about how your elbows are pink. And they totally are!”

Minseok cranes his neck to give a mildly interested glance to his elbow.

“Huh. I guess they are. I can’t say I’ve spent too much time looking at my own elbows.”

“I’ve never noticed before.”

Luhan sounds awestruck, as if this discovery has absolutely blown his mind - which, considering how intimately familiar he is with every inch of Minseok’s body, Minseok supposes it probably has.

“They’re just elbows,” he says.

“They’re your elbows,” Luhan replies, as if this is a critical distinction.

Minseok shrugs. “They’re just my elbows.” And now he’s almost teasing, because Luhan’s fascination with him has always been sort of amusing. Minseok has never considered himself to be particularly exceptional - he’s not all that fit, not all that good-looking, not all that talented - and yet Luhan seems to hold him in the highest regard, seems to see him as all that and more.

“They’re pink,” Luhan beams. The fact apparently delights him, if the way he’s pinching Minseok’s wenis is anything to go by. With a happy little waggle of his head, he leans forward and kisses it, then proceeds to trail kisses all the way up Minseok’s arm until he reaches his shoulder.

“Yah.” Minseok shies away, but Luhan has arrived at his face and is peppering it with tiny kisses, his nose poking at Minseok’s cheek with each peck of his lips.

“I love you,” Luhan murmurs, and kisses the flush that spreads across Minseok’s cheek.

“Shhh,” Minseok admonishes him, because he’s still pretending this is somehow a secret.

“I love you,” Luhan repeats, lower this time, a whisper into Minseok’s ear.

He gives Minseok’s elbow a last little pinch, then picks up his phone and continues scrolling like nothing happened. Minseok straightens his shirt and goes back to texting Jongdae.

Two seconds later his fingers find their surreptitious way to his elbow, and he ducks his head to hide a smile.