January 14, 2014 

9:47 AM

“Taeminnie,” someone says distantly, and it’s like a gentle nudge, drawing him from the blissful embrace of sleep. Taemin moans, flailing his arm helplessly at whoever it is, before burrowing down further into the cocoon of blankets he’s somehow managed to swathe himself in. “Taeminnie,” the person says, more insistently this time, and Taemin whimpers, his voice cracking as he tries to hide under the duvets.

“Nooooooooo,” he moans, voice gravelly and husky from sleep, and he doesn’t catch the way the other person’s breath hitches at the sound. “Leemelone,” he tries, throwing a halfhearted kick at the end of his bed and curling up afterwards. “Leave me ‘lone,” he groans, more coherent as the person starts poking him incessantly. “G’way.”

Taemin snuggles further down into the warmth, sighing with relief as the person seems to comply, and the room is quiet once more. Then, suddenly, the warmth disappears, and is replaced by the cold winter air, and the male yelps, curling into the fetal position in hopes of retaining body heat and whining when his bare feet begin to freeze. “Taeminnie,” the blanket thief says, and Taemin vaguely recognises it as Jongin before he’s being enveloped in warmth again, this time from a human body. “Good morning,” Jongin says gently, pressing his lips to Taemin’s exposed neck in a tender kiss that instantly rouses the smaller male from his daze. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Taemin says, awake now. “When did you get here?”

“Um…” Jongin says, grinning sheepishly. “Half an hour ago?”

“Half an hour?” Taemin asks incredulously, sitting up slowly. “What on earth have you been doing for half an hour?”

Jongin shifts guiltily, looking down at the bedsheets as he kneels on the bed beside the other dancer. “Listening… to you… breathing? I guess?” It’s not a statement, more a question, like Jongin himself doesn’t know what he was doing (which he doesn’t), and Taemin chuckles, conceding defeat and rolling out of bed. Jongin had always been the more straightforward one in their relationship, and so Taemin’s still smiling as he strips, shedding the baggy shirt and sweatpants that serve as his pyjamas. When he turns around, looking for his jeans, he spots Jongin still kneeling on the bed, mouth hanging wide open, and Taemin quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly before he realises, oh, and his lips curve into a smirk.

“Jongin,” Taemin calls huskily, and he doesn’t miss the way Jongin’s shoulders stiffen, the way Jongin swallows audibly. “Jongin,” he repeats, voice slightly deeper, and barely suppresses a laugh at how the younger reacts, pressing his thighs together.

“I-I’m gonna get something to eat,” the tanned male announces suddenly, wobbling to his feet before falling back onto the bed, all grace gone as he trips to the door, determinedly avoiding looking at Taemin’s body. 

The room empty, Taemin laughs at the younger’s antics and gets dressed, pulling on the first things he finds in the clean laundry pile before surveying the mess that is his apartment. I really should clean it up, he thinks briefly, before but no, Jongin’s the only one who comes here anyways, and it’s not as if his apartment is any cleaner. 

10:59 AM

When Jongin finally returns, it’s to a silent apartment and a sleeping Taemin lying on his side in the middle of the carpeted floor, curled into his hoodie and snoring slightly. “Oh, come on,” Jongin sighs, setting down the plastic take-away boxes on the coffee table and studying the elder, mouth twisted into a confused frown. “Taeminnie!” he calls, sitting down with a take-away box in his lap. “I’m gonna eat now,” Jongin continues, cracking open the lid of his box and inhaling deeply, savouring the aroma of pancakes before stabbing the velvety confectionary and bringing it to his mouth and at the heavenly taste. “And if you don’t stop pretending that you’re asleep now,” he mumbles around a mouthful of pancake, “I’ll eat your share as well.”

Taemin shoots up and grabs the box from on the table (how did he even know it was there?) and starts tearing into it with animalistic ferocity, stopping occasionally only to sigh in ecstasy. He finishes just before Jongin does, setting the box back onto the table and closing his eyes as if to try and retain the taste when Jongin presses his smirk to Taemin’s lips and steals the taste of strawberries, replacing it with the sultry flavour of desire. Taemin falls back in surprise, and Jongin’s shirt, fisted firmly in the elder’s grip, drags him along, and they land on the carpet in a flurry of clothes and slightly breathless giggles. “You’re such a horrible person,” Taemin grumbles, but the effect is ruined immediately when the evident beginnings of a smile crack through the scowl on his face.

“I love you,” Jongin sighs against Taemin’s lips.

“I love you too,” Taemin whispers, grinning as the younger male shivers at the caress of warm breath in his mouth.

The doorbell rings and the two spring apart as best they can, Jongin jerking up and smashing his heel against the underside of the table, howling in pain as Taemin scrambles to his feet, flushing an extremely appealing shade of red as he falls over himself, trying to get to the door. “Delivery for a Lee Taemin,” a voice says, sounding completely and utterly unimpressed with life in general, and as Jongin lies on the floor, clutching his throbbing foot, he hears Taemin’s flustered apologies before the door’s closing with a decisive click and Taemin’s padding almost silently back to Jongin. “What was it?” Jongin asks from the floor, massaging his aching heel.

“Nothing,” Taemin mumbles, and makes as if to head for his room, but Jongin’s hand shoots out and clamps itself around Taemin’s right ankle in a vice-like grip as the younger male begins to get up. “Jongin, let go,” the captured dancer squeaks, before flushing and clearing his throat, repeating the command once his voice is back to normal (or so he thinks). “Let go of my leg, Kim Jongin.”

“What did you get?” Jongin insists, advancing upon Taemin as the elder steps backwards, clutching the paper-wrapped package to his chest. “Taeminnie, tell meeeeeeee!”

“It’s a secret,” Taemin says confidently, more confidently than he really is, letting out a manly gasp when his back meets the wall. “Secret, Jongin.”

The tanned dancer’s arms come up on either side of Taemin’s shoulders, forming a cage and preventing said male from escaping, and so the trapped male can do nothing but shrink in on himself and hug the parcel closer to his chest and hope that Jongin won’t do anything.

“Are you ticklish?” Jongin wonders suddenly, after a few minutes (hours? days, even?) of silence, and Taemin’s eyes widen. 

“N-no, I’m not,” Taemin stutters, and that’s enough. Jongin breaks out into a smirk, a positively evil grin twisting his handsome features, and Taemin gulps, for more than one reason. “Kim Jongin, Kim Jongin, don’t you dare—“ he breaks off, shrieking, as a finger pokes, none too gently, at his extremely sensitive sides. “Stop!” he screams, and ducks out of the hold, making a dash for the bathroom at the end of the hallway before he’s tackled, tackled, and the two fall to the floor in a blur of crazed laughter on Jongin’s part and Taemin’s alarmed squawking. “Aah, no, KIM JONGIN!” Taemin writhes as the other male’s long fingers attack his sides before he scrabbles out from underneath the taller male, sliding the parcel underneath the kitchen counter before racing away down the hall, almost slipping over his sock-clad feet in his haste to get away before remembering that the only thing down the hall is a closet, and immediately backtracking, skidding out of the hallway and sprinting towards his room before he’s blocked by a laughing Jongin. “Bring it on!” Taemin yells, and jumps onto the nearest couch. “The floor is lava!”

“Seriously?” Jongin shouts back, a massive grin brightening his features as he leaps onto an armchair anyways. “I’m gonna win this!”

The chase is on, the giant six-year-olds chasing each other around Taemin's apartment, shrieking and screaming and yelling and giggling until the cranky old man next door yells at them to shut up, after which they sit sheepishly and in silence on the couches in the living room. Eventually, though, silence gives way to boredom, which leads to Jongin tickling Taemin relentlessly, both males laughing like lunatics, before they're tearing around the house again, jumping on the furniture and distantly wondering if those sirens they can hear faintly are asylum workers coming to take them away. 

Eventually, though, the two collapse on Taemin’s bed, chests heaving with laboured breaths sometimes punctuated by breathless giggles. “Now that,” Jongin breathes, “that was fun.” 

Taemin utters a sound of agreement before rolling over slowly to poke Jongin’s cheek, grinning like a madman. “I got you,” he says, sounding almost awed, and immediately dissolves into another bout of giggles.

“Come here, you idiot,” Jongin grins, and brings their lips together for a minute before Taemin’s hitting his cheek lightly.

“Don’t talk to your hyung like that,” the smaller says, sounding almost affronted, before toppling off the edge of the bed and promptly resurfacing with a familiar, slightly beaten-up parcel. “And happy birthday, Kim Jongin.”

hai.

I COME BEARING FLUFF

LOTS OF IT

(am i forgiven for the last chapter?)

yes? no?

ummm... taekai?

that right there is basically the essence of today's chapter, folks.

I shall present you with a few more gifs in advance bribery reward for a comment

oh and can we talk about SHINee Tokyo Dome and how Taemin apparently developed an allergic reaction to shirts

oh and his new hair colour

i think jongin likes it

ok bye thanks for reading please leave me a comment! 

~KimSeRin