A/N:  Added another scene to the end.

Your neighbour’s murder improved your life immensely.  You were able to make as much noise as you wanted, any time you wanted (which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot--you were naturally a quiet soul), but it was nice to eat popcorn after dark, or watch television without subtitles, and you were able to finally put your headphones and earbuds to rest, unless you were out and about.  Coincidentally, your incidences of ear infections decreased simultaneously.  Weird. 

Most blissful was that you could bask in the unadulterated joy of coming home from work.  No longer was the walk home tinged with anxiety that you would be accosted and compelled to be (relatively) civil to some creepy, overly-familiar old man who said things that still made your skin crawl.  Home was now home in word and in meaning--a place of comfort, and relaxation, and safety--and with the neighbourhood creep gone, you quickly learned that your two remaining neighbours also had clandestine hybrid roommates that they had kept hidden for fear of being outed to the landlady by the diabolically departed.  

Quiet, elusive Kyungsoo had a cute, tiny, leetle smol bengal hybrid that he had adopted while travelling in Mumbai, and the tall, willowy, stylish English teacher from the US, had somehow been finagled into adopting two jindo hybrid brothers who were dead ringers for the members of EXO-CS--save that Shixun was the younger--and never let anyone forget it.  You had no idea what kind of name Pork Eggyolk was for a guy, but figured that it was an American thing, as now that the ajusshi was dead, you heard it yelled loudly, and in increasingly frustrated tones, often preceded by a crash, and a long, heartfelt sigh.  

Despite all this newfound freedom, however…  You had a problem.  A growing problem.  An embarrassing, cringey, shameful problem.  It wasn’t your fault.  You were a healthy, single, nubile woman, and well--

You watched as Minseok did--what was it now?  You had kind of become distracted around the 50th shirtless push up--

“98, 99, 100!” With a grunt, he easily climbed to his feet, lifted a hand to scrape back the hair from his forehead, the soft, warm lamplight hitting the tempting lines of his body in such a way as to make you inwardly roll your eyes.  Who was shooting this--Franco Zefirelli?

Ah, yes.  100.  100 pushups.  100 shirtless pushups.  There, in the living room, in front of you.  While you were busy trying to mind your own business while you...what?  While you--what were you doing again?  You looked down at the table. Ah, yes.  Taxes.  Taxes.  The bane of your existence.  If you had hated the ajusshi downstairs, you quite possibly hated math even more, and one of the few reasons that you had almost wept with joy when you graduated from high school was the fact that you knew that you would never have to take another math class ever again.  

Well, then uni gen eds had come and smacked you in the face, but you were currently on hiatus, and were holding those off until the bitter end, because you just couldn’t, you hated math, detested it, loathed it entirely, and--

“What are you doing?”

Turning, you had to backpedal to keep your face from bumping into Minseok’s as he hovered over your shoulder, peering down at the paperwork.  “Uh, taxes,” you said shortly.  Too much talking would require more breath, and more breath would mean that you could smell even more of him, the rosy heat surrounding his body--could almost taste the salt of his sk--

“You misunderstood question 4b on schedule C,” he said, wrapping an arm around the other side of you to point to the offense, and no, absolutely not, you absolutely could not think with the sweet warmth radiating off of him, seeping into your chilled skin.

You hadn’t even realized that you were cold until he came to warm you.  

Groaning, you let your head collapse onto the table.  “I hate this.  This is stupid.  The government already knows how much I make.  Why can’t they just send me a check or a bill and be done with it?!  I’m just so...tired!”  Muscles twitched in your back, involuntarily stiffening your spine as soothing, questing fingertips ran under your hair to slide up the back of your scalp.  Just as involuntarily, your whole body subsequently relaxed as Minseok began gently massaging your scalp, his pace hypnotic.  

“That’s a good kitten.”

Warm breath brushed the exposed back of your neck, and all of a sudden, you were very aware of your own breathing.  Not wanting to make his casual skinship weird, you forced yourself to inhale--hold, exhale--hold, forced your ribs to contract and expand at a normal, human rate, forced your body not to betray the erratic clanging of your heart against your ribs, your lungs, anything that it could reach.  Quietly, softly, he began to purr, and that did it--that really did it--that combined with his curious, gentle fingertips drained all of the tension out of you, and you slumped against the table.  

“It’s late…”  

His voice was so soft, so unobtrusive, that, at first, you didn’t even acknowledge his speech as words, accepted them as just another thought that popped into your brain--

“You’re tired.  You should go to bed.  You have time.  Working past your limits will only frustrate you.”

You whined, low in your throat.  Little did he know that you were already frustrated.  Frustrated by work. Frustrated with your stupid taxes.  Frustrated over him.  But what to do?  This was life.  This was adulthood.  No one was going to come along and save you.  Your secret admirer was sweet, but seemed content to merely shower you in gifts and poetry, rather than initiate a face to face meeting. Before your wordless griping could turn into a protest, you felt your equilibrium tilt, and you opened your eyes to the world going off balance.  

By the time your brain righted itself, Minseok was already striding into your room--your apartment was admittedly small--and setting you down on the bed.  “Oppa,” you grumbled, “you can’t just keep picking me up and carrying me whenever you feel like.  I’m a full grown adult.  One day, you’ll strain your back, and then where will you be?”

“Aigoo, aigoo,” he muttered playfully, ignoring you, as he pulled back your covers, and proceeded to tuck you into bed.  “This little kitten is saying so much, but I can’t understand a thing…”

“Oppa!” you protested, sitting up.

With his forefinger on your forehead, he pushed you back down.  “Listen.  What do you know about hybrid anatomy?”

“Not, much,” you admitted, surreptitiously snuggling into the covers, as relief flooded your body.  You were tired--you hadn’t realized it until you were in bed--but would never admit it.  

“Well,” he began, crouching so that he was on your eye-level, “hybrid muscle fibers are longer than those of humans. Do you know what that means?”

Silently, you shook your head. 

“Muscle fiber length has a dramatic effect on the generation of muscle force.”  He looked down at you, and you blinked back.  Smiling, he tilted his head.  “Do you know why orangutans and chimpanzees are so much stronger than humans, despite being smaller?”

“Longer muscle fibers?” you parroted.  

“That’s right!” he crooned, and despite yourself--you were not a child--you inwardly preened.  “The longer the muscle fibre, the stronger the muscle.”

“So, what you’re saying is, I’m not heavy to you, because you’re stronger than the average male human of your size?”

A crooked smile touched his mouth, as his arms crossed over his chest, which--did your eyes deceive you--puffed ever so slightly.  He looked down at you, your devastatingly handsome roommate looked down at you, Kim Minseok looked down at you, all akimbo arms and strong, planted legs, and despite his boyish grin, something dark moved in his eyes.  

Suddenly, you felt oddly restless.

“Even if I had the strength of an average human male my size, carrying you would not be a problem for me.  You’re tiny.”

You felt as if you should protest, but...something about...that declaration...felt…

Good.

Reaching forward, he brushed the hair from your forehead.  “You took me in out of the cold, gave me a home.  It is my job to take care of you, and protect you--”

“Op--”

He hissed as he in a breath.  “You're tired.  You’re tired and stressed.  Relax for the rest of the night.  Argue with me tomorrow, if you want.”

Grumbling, you grabbed your phone, then pulled the covers closer.  “Since when did you become so bossy?”

Walking away, he tossed over his shoulder, “You love it.”

“If I weren’t so comfortable, I’d come pinch you!”

Pausing, he turned.  “Shall I come closer?”  

Your eyes involuntarily ran down his body before flicking back to his face.  Snapping them shut, you smiled, shaking your head.  

Laughing softly, Minseok leaned against the doorjamb.  “Alright, kitten, I’ll be in in a bit.  Goodnight.”

“Slavedriver,” you muttered under your breath.

“Brat!” he called from the next room.

Grinning, you settled down with your phone to catch up on some light reading.  However, despite your best efforts, every time you visualized the handsome male protagonist...all you could see was Minseok.  Minseok holding an umbrella over you in the rain, Minseok pinning you between his body and the wall, Minseok gently cradling your faces in his warm palms as he leaned closer...

Oh, yes.  You had a problem.

***

The next morning, you stumbled into the kitchen, drowsily opening the refrigerator, hoping that the sight of food would get your brain into gear, so that you could figure out what to cook for your freakishly handsome roommate.  Eyes falling on a half-empty packet of bukeo, you sleepily blinked in relief as you decided on bukeoguk.  Gathering dalgyal and pa, mu, gamja, bukeo, kongnamul, and dubu, you carried your bounty to the counter, but before you could head back for the chamgireum and gukganjang, something on the dining table caught your eye.  

Walking closer, you tilted your head, picking up the papers and perusing through the figures, but even after looking over everything, the end result was the same.

Minseok had done your taxes.

More importantly, Minseok had done your taxes correctly.

Just who was this man?

***

You sensed him before you saw him.  Bracing yourself, you looked up as the hospital curtain was roughly torn open, and a pale-faced, gimlet-eyed Minseok stared down at you.  His ears were going a mile a minute, turning this way and that to catch all of the distracting sounds of the hospital, before he strode forward to where a fatherly doctor sat in front of you, tightening a splint on your wrist.

“Are you her guardian,” the doctor asked without looking up.

Minseok faltered slightly.  “Ye-I’m-she’s…”  At his stuttering, the doctor looked up, and a long moment passed, with Minseok’s jaw working.  “She is my mistress,” he finally ground out.

The doctor stood, towering as he flipped through his clipboard before fixing Minseok with a look over his glasses.  “This falls under workman’s comp, so the job has already paid the bill.  I trust that you can take her home safely?”

Minseok squared his shoulders, nodding decisively.  “I can.”  

“Good, then you can check her out.  Agasshi, no strenuous activity on that wrist for 2-6 weeks, alright?”

“That’s a pretty big discrepancy, Seonsaengnim,” you protested.

“Why?  You want to go back to work?”  At your shocked face, he winked.  “Besides the sprain, I saw evidence of strain, anyway.  You could probably use the break, so take it; doctor’s orders.”  Turning, he wrote something on a notepad, peeled off the sheet, and handed it to Minseok.  “This is a prescription for painkillers.  I’ll call it in now, and you two can have it filled at the hospital pharmacy before you leave, alright?”

“Yes, seonsaengnim,” Minseok said, bowing, and taking the scrip with both hands.  

“She’ll need to keep it elevated, and do not exceed three pills a day.  Ice the wrist to reduce pain and swelling for 20-30 minutes every three to four hours for two to three days, or until the pain is gone.”

“Yes,” Minseok nodded.  

“I think that it goes without saying that chores are off limits during healing--”

“He does most of the cleaning, anyway,” you offered.

The doctor leveled a judgemental look at you, but before you could  defend yourself, Minseok spoke, saying, “She does all the cooking.  It works for us.  I prefer it that way--I’m very particular.”

Mollified, the doctor nodded.  “Alright, then.  Any questions?”

“No, seonsaengnim,” Minseok murmured, shaking his head.  

Writing something on your chart, the doctor handed it to Minseok.  “Give this to the secretary when you check out--she’ll set up a follow-up appointment in about a month.”  Once again, his stern gaze was back on you, though his eyes were twinkling.  “Agasshi, you are not to return to work until I release you, understand?  I’m putting that in your chart.”

“Seonsaengnim!” you whined.

“Goodnight, and goodluck!” the doctor said, clicking his pen, and tucking it into his coat packet before breezing out of the room.

As soon as he left, Minseok was kneeling before you, delicately taking your forearm between his hands and examining it, his nostrils flaring.  “What happened?” he asked softly.

Puffing a breath that made your bangs dance, you rolled your eyes. “Who happened, more like.  Gwan Ara, absentminded as usual, left a frosting bucket in my path as I was pulling cakes out of the oven.  I tripped, tried to catch myself, and here we are.”  He stared up at you, and you fidgeted uncomfortably.  “What?”

Smiling, he shook his head.  “Nothing, nothing.  Lightly tapping your thighs, he stood.  “Let’s get you home.”  

Riding the subway with Minseok was...interesting.  It was early evening on a Friday, so the cars were standing room only.  Each time you entered a new car, he would maneuver you toward a corner, and then proceed to stand distractingly close, one arm locked around your waist, the other gripping the overhead handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white.  

Because of the crowdedness of the cars, you were tucked into his body, your nose nestled right into where his clavicle must be.  You could barely see over his shoulder.  Conscious of how close his body was to yours, you made the mistake of sighing, which only drew his scent into your lungs on the inhale, making you lower your head to pretend to scratch your ear, when in reality, you were closing your eyes, breathing in deeply, hungry for more of his clean, fresh, personal smell.  

You felt drugged.  

When a sudden jolt in the line shook the car, you stumbled into him, but instead of letting you right yourself, and move back, he only tightened his grip, pressing your body flush against his.  This is fine, you thought frantically.  I am fine with events as they are unfolding right now.  You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, each minute shift of his muscles and limbs as he constantly readjusted to keep you both balanced.  Another jolt made him move his hand to keep you from stumbling, made him squeeze your hip in a tight grip before sliding his hand back up to your waist.  You shivered.

Leaning down slightly, he brought his mouth to your ear.  “Are you okay?  Is this uncomfortable?  Would you like me to turn you around?”

A flash of just where on his body your bottom would be pressing if you turned, skipped through your mind, and you felt your face start to glow.  “No, thank you,” you said timidly.  A small sigh brushed past your neck he exhaled, his mouth still distractingly close to your ear.  

“Are you sure?”

Nodding your head frantically, you squeaked, “I’m sure,” before groaning inwardly, and leaning your forehead against his shoulder.  This close, you could feel the chuckles bubbling up through his body.  

“Alright, kitten.  Just relax.  We’re almost home.  That’s a good girl.  Just lean on me, and rest.  I’ll take care of you.”

And your problem grew.

***

“What’s wrong?”

You jumped at the closeness of Minseok’s voice on the other side of the bathroom door.  “What do you mean?”

“You smell distressed.”  

There was a small scratch at the door, and you did your best to stifle your rueful chuckle.  “It’s nothing.”

“Do you need help?”

Blushing hotly, you shook your head, realized that he couldn’t see, and then called out, “I’ll be fine.  I just have to figure out how to...do...some things…”

There was a pause.  Then, “Do you need me to wash your back?”

You groaned.  “How could you possibly know that?”

A soft chuckle.  “I just took a moment to think about it.”

Now your face was really flaming, realizing just what Minseok had to have thought about to come to that conclusion.  “I just...need to buy a back scrubber.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t help you now.  I can do it for you--I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure that you wouldn’t,” you muttered.  

“I heard that!”

“Of course you did,” you sighed.  Eyeing the bubbles, you groaned inwardly.  “Al...right.  You can come in.”  Drawing your knees to your chest, you scooped bubbles over yourself, for modesty, shivering slightly with the small breeze that brushed over your wet skin as he opened the door.  

Minseok eyed you with a grin.  “That’s...a lot of bubbles,” he commented evenly.  

“I deserve luxury!” you squawked in protest, looking from where you had leaned forward to keep all of the essentials covered.

“That you do,” he murmured, drawing closer, and sitting on the edge of the tub.  “Where’s your cloth?”

The cloth in question was currently clutched to your bosom, and you winced.  “Uh, let’s just grab another one.”

With a small, amused huff he reached over to the drawer, pulled out a fresh cloth, and dipped it into the water behind you, before adding a few pumps of bath gel.  Gently, steadily he began rubbing the cloth over your shoulders.  “How is it,” he asked quietly.  

“Harder, please,” you murmured. 

His became firmer, as he scrubbed the cloth in circular motions up and down your back.  

Groaning happily, you leaned forward, giving him more access to your lower back.   There was a pause, and then the smallest sigh drifted past your ears, before his hand moved lower.  

Minseok cleared his throat.  “When we’re finished here...is there anything else that you need me to help you do?”  His voice was soft.  Soothing.  The motion of his hand on your back oddly lulling.

Leaning your head on your knees, you hid a rueful grin, before you pulled yourself together, and thought for a moment.  “No, thank you,” you answered, as he dipped the cloth back into the water to rinse your back. 

“Alright, then.”  There was a pause.  Just when you were about to lift your head to see what was the matter, he wrung out the cloth, standing and placing it on the side of the tub.  Smiling tightly, his eyes fixed at some nebulous point over your head, the pupils dark and round, he started to say something, then stopped.  Opened his mouth, and then closed it.  his lower lip into his mouth, and let it slowly slide past his teeth before shaking his head.  “Enjoy your bath, kitten.  I’ll see you in a bit.”

Curious as to what had him so tongue tied, you leaned back in the tub, surprised when your skin touched the warm porcelain instead of the soft press of bubbles.  It would appear as if, while the bubbles in front of your were still full and fluffy, those behind you were gone.  It made you wonder.

Just how far down had he seen?

***

“What are you doing?”

If you had Minseok’s cat ears, they would be lowering in defense.  “Hm?”

“Turn around.”

Guiltily, you slowly, carefully climbed down from the washer and turned to face Minseok.  

“Whatcha got, there?” A smirk played around his mouth, and his eyes twinkled.  You were sure that if he had a full sized tail, it would be swishing lazily.  

“Oh, this?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I can explain.”

“Go ahead.”

“So, I’m not supposed to do anything to strain my injured wrist, right?”

“Mm.”

“But I figured...there’s nothing wrong with my left hand.  So, you know...laundry isn’t necessarily exactly a two-, so…”

“Do you normally climb on the washer to do laundry,” he asked mildly, leaning against the door frame.

“I had to.”

“Oh, you had to…” he said softly, grinning.  

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like you caught me doing something naughty!”

“Is it my imagination, or did the doctor say, ‘No chores,’?”

“Be reasonable!  You can’t exactly do my laundry!”

“Why not!”

You spluttered.  “Because I have unmentionables!”

Minseok looked as if he were valiantly trying to hold back laughter.  “So?”

“So!” yo