12

Minho woke in a panic, unable to take a full breath. His fear subsided, however, when he realized that what was crushing his chest was Taemin. At some point in their mutual slumber, he'd apparently decided that Minho's torso was a better pillow than the raggedy cushion at the head of his cot. He was half on top of Minho, with their legs intertwined. Taemin loosely held Minho's shirt sleeve in his sleepy fist. It seemed that Minho unconsciously welcomed this: His arms were wrapped around Taemin's body, and one hand even held him firmly at the waist.

Minho reached up to brush away some of Taemin's hair that was tickling his chin, and he held back a gag when his fingers came away sticky and oily. Taemin smelled absolutely terrible (not that Minho was radiating a rose fresh scent himself), but he'd grown nose blind to it over the past few days in close proximity. Focusing on it now, it was frankly repulsive.

Still, there was something else lingering in there, some aromatic note that Minho found himself chasing despite the fact that each whiff of uncleanliness made him wish the bullet had severed whatever nerve made his nose work. There was something pleasant and vaguely sweet, earthy—it reminded him of Rose when she was still in infancy. It put him instantly at ease. He buried his nose in the cleanest part of Taemin's hair that he could reach, and then in the midst of a heart inhale, he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. 

It was Kibum. His eyebrow was raised and his lips were pinched together to hold back a laugh. Minho wanted to protest, to claim that this wasn't what it looked like, that Kibum didn't just witness him cuddled up in bed with another man breathing him in like a flower bouquet, but it was pointless. Instead, he stared Kibum down, hoping that he could somehow transfer the burden of embarrassment to him through eye contact based intimidation. Not that Minho had anything to be embarrassed about—he tried to convince himself of this.

"What's your problem?" Kibum scoffed. "Do you need to or something? Stop looking at me like that, you freak."

Minho rolled his eyes. Quietly, so as not to wake Taemin, he said, "You know, it's typically considered good manners to start with a polite greeting like 'good morning' or 'did you sleep well?' Why don't you try it the next time you walk into someone else's tent without permission?"

"If that 'someone else' happens to be someone I actually like and respect, I'm more than happy to become the poster child for proper etiquette," answered Kibum snidely. 

"What do you want?" Minho said in a sigh. Under normal circumstances, he couldn't resist the temptation to bicker with Kibum. It was endlessly entertaining how quickly he could rile Kibum up into losing both his temper and his mind, but at the present moment he just didn't have the energy.

"Brought you something," answered Kibum, moving towards the small table and Minho's bedside. He struggled to lift a metal pail sloshing with water onto the table, then set down a coarse bristled brush and a hunk of lye soap beside it. "Well, it's more for him than you. He got his stink all over me when he tackled me yesterday. The horses wouldn't come near me for the better part of two hours. It's inhumane to leave him smelling like that, and before you get all high and mighty and show me your infinite gratitude, I meant that it's inhumane for the rest of us to be subjected to his foulness. Especially me. Convince him to wash up, will you? Throw the bucket on him or do whatever you need to. Ugh. Being this close is making me gag."

"It's not that bad," Minho mumbled, then frowned. There was a bug crawling in Taemin's hair. He pinched it between his fingers and tossed it to the ground, ignoring the disturbed look on Kibum's face. "Um, sorry about that, by the way. The, uh, attacking you thing."

Kibum backed away slowly before answering, trying to find a place to stand where he could still speak comfortably with Minho but also get some fresh air from the open doorway. "Eh, unless you trained him like a guard dog, I'm not sure I need to hear the apology from you. What was that all about, anyway? 'You don't get to touch him,'" he mocked, repeating Taemin's words from yesterday. "He in love with you or something?"

"It's funny," murmured Minho. He waited a moment to verify Taemin was still asleep, and the drool pooling at the corner of his mouth served as evidence enough. He continued, "He said the same thing about you."

"What?"

"According to him, you're in love with me."

"Excuse me, what?"

"It's okay if you are, Kibum," Minho said. He distracted himself by running his fingers through Taemin's hair,