In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the quoteonlyprompts collection.
Prompt:
Person A: "I'm trying to do homework!"
Person B: "But I'm bored! I want cuddles and kisses!"
Person A: "I"m pretty sure you have homework to do..."
Person B: "Screw homework!"
Person A: *goes on a rant about how homework is the essence of life*
Person B shuts Person A up with a kiss and Person A ends up in a make-out session with Person B instead of getting their homework done.
Thominho Week Day 4: Softness/comfort
I went with the "softness" more than the comfort (I figured I ought to write some fluff this time instead of a bunch of angst, or at least, I tried ), but you're welcome to interpret some parts as "comfort".
Title inspired by the song Shut Up and Dance.
***
"How can you do this?" Minho asked his sweet boyfriend, rolling over on the bed dramatically. The neat quiff bouncing on the top of his head protested, but due to the hair gell, it had little choice but to stay put.
"I need to get homework done," Thomas said, scribbling furiously onto his paper and letting out a sigh. The muscular boy was persistent in the best of times; that's what made him a great boyfriend, but it was really annoying when Thomas was attempting to do homework. "Can you not, please?" Though he knew Minho would not stop, it wouldn't hurt to try...
...Would it?
"But why? To-om!" Minho groaned, blinking twice, he crawled into a begging position and stared at his boyfriend with his best puppy eyes which were admittingly, pretty good, but not good enough to sway the other boy. "How can you leave me here to suffer and do homework instead of me? Just imagine, you could be doing this! Newsflash: your boyfriend is suffering and it's all your fault! It's not like it's painful if you just help me out here...How very cruel of you."
"Shut up, Minho," the brunet muttered, redirecting his attention to his keyboard and tapping on it insistently.
Someone, remind him to get a better mouse.
"But whyyyy?" Minho drew out his sentence.
"Minho, I'm trying to do homework. Go bug someone else," Thomas snapped, whipping his eyes towards the luminescent screen.
Minho rolled his eyes and as the clock ticked away, devised a plan. If homework had his boyfriend completely sucked in, he would forcefully pull him out. Minho rolled up his sleeves, and as always, Thomas, despite what he said, started to drool. Every shucking time!
The Asian put on his best cocky smirk and tilted his head to the side, making his best seductive face.
"That's not fair, Minho!" Thomas whined, fighting to look away from Minho's bulked-up figure. "You know that I have to keep up my GPA! I'm on a scholarship, ya know, not all of us can afford to pay for our school fees –––"
The black-haired boy knew that his boyfriend was technically correct, but he demanded kisses and cuddles with his boyfriend! He would not let a stupid GPA stand between him and Thomas' frame and his weird sense of humour, and in general, take him away from spending time with Thomas.
"We're done."
The silence that came after that was deafening.
The younger one's eyes widened, the brown irises glistening with unshed tears. He swallowed difficultly; he couldn't believe this was happening. Minho was obviously too good to be true (how could someone like him end up with Minho?), but this ending seemed too...anti-climatic. "Do you...did you really mean that...?"
Minho sighed ruefully, and that was it, Thomas realised. That was the last time Minho was going to ever talk to him. "No."
Thomas rubbed at his nape and eyes widened, requesting Minho to repeat what he said.
Minho did as requested, and the brunet seethed. "You...that's not fair!" He complained once more.
"What's not fair, Tom?" Minho inquired, feigning innocence. He was laughing internally at Thomas' flushed cheeks, but he couldn't offend his boyfriend, could he?
Thomas' deadpan look flattened that immediately. "You seducing me and then pretending to break up with me to stop me from doing homework."
"But it's homework that's due the next next week!" Minho said, emphasising the next next week. "And I want cuddles, kisses!"
"It's called 'two weeks after', shank," Thomas murmured, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I'm pretty sure your homework is due on Friday."
"Shuck homework!" Minho yelled, stomping his feet childishly.
Thomas, meanwhile, was trying valiantly to look away from the delicious picture of Minho's sweaty, tanned skin, and what was worse was that Minho had started taking off his shirt and shorts, leaving him in only a pair of underwear.
Thomas blinked persistently; he was going to get this essay finished no matter what.
"Awww, you're no fun." Minho's whine let him realise he had said the previous sentence out loud – good.
"Can you put some clothes on?" Thomas sighed, gesturing to the pile of abandoned, crumpled cloth on his pillow.
"Nope," Minho smirked. "If you can't do homework while dealing with this awesomeness, do it another time."
Ignoring the shrieks of Thomas' "another time? another time?", he sat down near the headboard and winked cheesily at Thomas, who blushed furiously.
"Ugh," Thomas muttered, sitting down on his plush chair heavily. "I hate you, Minho."
"Love you too, Honey," Minho grinned widely, his lips stretched across his face.
Thomas managed to get in a couple more minutes of focus, all of which was unbearable for Minho.
"Okay, that's it," Minho started, placing his bigger palms on Thomas' shoulders and dragging him to the bed. "Homework is useless. Nobody cares about it, let alone homework that's due two weeks from now!" He gestured wildly while complaining, and Thomas thought it looked rather comical paired with his mostly nude body.
However, he was more hung up on the statement. "Excuse me?" Thomas questioned rhetorically, whipping his head quickly to Minho's direction. "Are you insane? There's scientific proof that homework makes information explained in class easier to remember. If it's not busywork, homework can account for most of your review and can even teach you something new. According to WICKED, a research organisation focused on the brain, it –––"
He was shut up by Minho's lips smashing almost violently against his. "Do me a favour and shut up, Thomas," Minho told Thomas, pressing a thick finger to his swollen, cupid brow lips.
"You can't do that!" Thomas protested, but made no move to stop Minho.
Yes! Minho cheered internally. "I love you, Tom."
Thomas sighed. "You're a piece-of-klunk and a complete pain, but I love you, too, for some reason or another..."
"Now kiss me," Minho demanded, making grabby hands and forcing Thomas under him.
"Sir, yes, Sir," Thomas said with his best salute. "Whatever you say."
And without further ado, Minho smashed his lips against Thomas' once more, savouring the taste of his adorable boyfriend.
In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the quoteonlyprompts collection.
Prompt(s):
"I don't need a wand/weapon to knock you into next week."
This fic was also inspired by this imagine by imagine-thominho. "Imagine Minho bringing flowers to Thomas every day, because they never had flowers in the Glade."
***
It was a shriek that awoke Minho from his afternoon nap.
A shriek very alike to the ones of fear he had heard when they were back in the Scorch that had him awake instantly. He looked around, thrashing wildly, trying to identify the threat. He flailed for a bit only to notice Thomas with his brown eyes wide open, huddled into a ball in the corner. Of course, the girly shriek had belonged to Thomas.
Minho stopped finding it funny after he looked at the condition of his friend. His shallow breaths were very fast and his glassy eyes were wide open but unseeing, tears falling rapidly down his cheeks. Minho was by his side in a second. "Thomas? You okay, Shank?"
"Griever!" Thomas shrieked, pointing to the floor. Minho looked. There, on the floor, was a harmless spider. Not in Thomas' eyes, though. Because in Thomas' eyes, that harmless spider was a Griever, a monster of the maze. It did somewhat resemble a Griever, with 8 legs and a shiny black body. All in all, though, Minho was certain this spider was harmless compared to what they had gone through.
Just as Minho put his arms around Thomas, Harriet burst in. "What happened? Who's–––" Her voice died away after she saw Minho in the corner, arms around Thomas protectively. "Is he okay? Panic attack?" She asked sympathetically. They all experienced them – the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, as the doctor had called it. In Minho's opinion, it was no way to sum up all the Gladers and Group B girls had been through.
Minho nodded silently, pointing to the spider. "Griever," he said simply, but Harriet understood, her eyes widening. She nodded.
Harriet stalked to the corner that Thomas and Minho were in, unbeknownst to Thomas, and stepped on the spider, killing it. Thomas' shaking slowly died down after seeing his "threat" had been eliminated. "Take care of him, alright?" She said, shooting him a smile and jogging out the tent.
Ever since they'd gotten to Paradise, Minho and Thomas had made friends with the Group B girls. Scratch that. Thomas had made friends with the girls and Minho was Thomas' friend, so the girls begrudgingly, he might as well admit, got to know him too.
He was certain that half of his friendships had started with Thomas. Small, adorable Thomas who could not help but be likeable. His somehow still innocent demeanour (even after the trials) attracted many people to like him, including Minho when he was in the Glade. The shank was just so curious with his wide Bambi eyes darting back and forth, chocolate brown hair, and lean frame.
Minho didn't know when he had noticed that he was somewhat attracted to Thomas, but he'd same sometime during the Scorch, perhaps when Thomas got shot. Minho's (after he saw the bullet lodged in the pale flesh) vision had turned into red. He only saw in shades of red as he pounced onto the crank, beating him all the way to death.
"Ya know, I have an extreme fear of spiders, too," Minho started talking lowly so he didn't startle Thomas.
"Arachnophobia," A weak, quiet voice mumbled into his chest. The warm breath fanning his t-shirt and vibrating against the muscles had him sighing internally. Thomas was okay. He'd be fine. Minho would help him.
"What?" Minho asked, cocking his head sideways.
Thomas raised his head from Minho's chest. He had bed-hair, even though he didn't sleep, and it was adorable. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, and the moles on his cheeks were stained with tear tracks. Nonetheless, he smiled, and it looked like a real smile. Minho was proud to say that he was one of the few people in Paradise that had seen Thomas' genuine smile. He huffed. "It's called 'arachnophobia'. An extreme fear of spiders."
Minho snorted. "Know-it-all."
Thomas' next smirk was forthcoming. "Watch it, I don't need a weapon to knock you into next week. Besides, I thought we were beyond the name-calling?"
Minho ticked off his fingers. "Shank, shuck-face, piece-of-klunk, Greenie, and let's not forget Subject A2, to be killed by Group B." Minho knew making jokes about WICKED was okay with Thomas. The first time after he had done it, he had apologised over and over again. Thomas had cut him off, telling him that making jokes about it helped him move on.
Thomas stuck his tongue out. "I'm pretty sure the girls don't want to kill me now, especially Sonya." Sonya loved Thomas the most. Not that way, of course, Minho would have killed her if she dared. Thomas wasn't his, but he was his best friend and he was not going to let another girl steal him from Minho's grasp.
Minho glared playfully. "Such a shame that is, too." He was sure Thomas was going to reply with a lame comeback and he was ready for it.
But no. He was not ready for the look that followed. Thomas gasped, widening his eyes and pouting. His big brown eyes were wide and watery and the brown and (very) long eyelashes were not helping, neither were the small, plump rosy-strawberry pink lips that jutted out slightly. Thomas' master pout. Oh, no.
Minho had been first subjected to this pout in the first week of paradise. Thomas had wanted Minho's last orange and Minho refused to give it to him. The next second, Thomas had pulled his look and Minho had discovered that his hand was obediently handing the precious orange to Thomas, who stopped his pout immediately and ate the orange.
Minho had stared, dumbfounded, at the cute boy who had juice smeared all over his face. Minho was weak for Thomas, apparently. He questioned why Thomas didn't just use that look on Alby when he wanted to become a runner. It couldn't just be Minho who succumbed to Thomas' spell...or was it?
After a month of practice, Thomas' puppy look was polished and perfected and Minho hated it but loved it, too. He was sure he had used all the acronyms of "adorable" he knew to describe Thomas, which honestly, wasn't many. Only adorable, loveable, and cute. He was sure that Thomas knew more (the shucking genius, how??) but he was definitely not going to ask Thomas to find words to describe himself, not that he would know of...
Minho relented, making a face, but relenting all the same. "I hate you, Thomas," he muttered.
Thomas' reply was "You love me, Babe." What. Oh, oh. Little did Thomas know that it was true, and not in the way he thought it was. Because Thomas was the most oblivious person there ever was. Apparently, Minho's love declaration hadn't been enough. Friends always said 'I love you' in sappy tones? Somehow, in Thomas' world, they did. Minho wondered what world Thomas lived in.
Minho was pretty sure he'd dislocate his jaw if he didn't close his mouth now. So, forcing his jaw closed before Thomas noticed his gaping mouth, he swallowed drily. Thomas had no idea what he did to Minho. That or he was a prostitute in his past life. It was highly possible, judging by his looks. Have you seen the kid? He's always licking his lips and arrrrghhhhh!
Minho wanted to strangle Thomas and kiss him silly at the same time.
***
Minho was taking a walk along the meadow for his break day. It was Thomas' break, too, but he was with Brenda. Minho couldn't say he wasn't jealous.
He was actually on a pity walk because why should Thomas have him? Maybe because he was always there for Thomas? Where was Brenda in the Glade?
He was currently wandering around, humming as he plucked flowers. The meadow had plenty of flowers. The Glade didn't have any. Minho didn't know when he had became such a sap, but he was. Currently picking flowers (totally not for Thomas).
"Hey, Minho, come here!" Sonya called, beckoning him to where she and Harriet were resting on the rocky terrain.
Minho, against his smarter mind, walked over to where Sonya sat. "What's up?"
"You like Thomas, don't you?" Harriet said bluntly. Though it was phrased as a question, it was obviously a flat statement. Harriet said it like it was a proven fact, which it was.
"I don't!" Minho groaned. "I don't like Thomas! Why should I like him? He's brave and amazing and I ––––"
"Calm down, Prince Charming," Sonya drawled, making a pacifying gesture with her palms. "You're incriminating yourself and it's pitiful." She and Harriet exchanged looks, both shaking their heads. "Just confess! Harriet confessed to me and we're together, now."
"What am I supposed to say? Thomas, I love you? Thomas, would you be my boyfriend? Thomas, would you marry me?" Minho said sarcastically, holding out the makeshift bouquet of flowers.
"I would say yes," a shy voice behind Minho peeped. Minho's heart sunk and started beating like crazy inside his stomach.
This could not be happening! Thomas was ––– wait, what? "What did you say?" Minho demanded, his eyes widening as he flipped around to face Thomas.
Thomas shrunk down from his fierce glare, his shoulders curling forward and his head bowed down, casting his Bambi eyes to the grass. "I said...I-I s-said 'I would say y-yes'," Thomas stammered, his face going red. "Or was it a joke?"
Minho sighed. Oblivious-Mode, as usual. "Did it sound like a joke?" He asked, tilting Thomas' head up so he could gaze into the sparkling orbs.
"Well, yeah, why would someone like you want to be with someone like me? Everyone in Paradise –––"
Being bad with words, Minho wrapped his arm around Thomas' waist (the other one still clutching onto the flowers) and dipped him backwards, quickly slamming his lips bruisingly onto Thomas'. Thomas made a stifled moan behind them but then relaxed into the kiss, returning it feverishly. The two lips were a bit awkward with each other, but that was to be expected – after all, neither of them had been kissed many times.
The kiss continued until both of the boys broke apart simultaneously, panting for air. Minho, after getting a good few breaths in, took a look at Thomas. He was pleased with what he saw. The boy's pupils were blown wide and there was only a tinge of the honey amber irises. He was still chasing after Minho's lips, looking very dazed. He was also breathing very heavily through his kiss swollen red lips.
Minho grinned and a wave of possessiveness rushed over him. Thomas is mine, he thought.
"M-Minho?" Thomas stammered. "What...what are we?"
Minho smirked, his old confidence coming back again. "The offer of dating still stands, you know..." he said teasingly, raising the bundle of flowers.
Thomas grinned, his usual grin back. "The answer also stands. Yes, a million times over," Thomas almost squealed, gingerly taking the flowers as if he didn't believe they existed.
They were staring into each other's brown eyes intently before Harriet interrupted abruptly. "Excuse me, but there are children here and that kiss was definitely not appropriate for their age..."
Thomas and Minho shared looks in sync and started to kiss again in the same way as last time, with Minho dipping Thomas at the waist, the flowers long forgotten. No worries, Minho could get more for his boyfriend later.
***
This one's a bit longer than my usual fics, but I hope you enjoyed it! I apologise for the fact that this amazing prompt was not in the spotlight! Thank you, Anonymous for the prompt and thank you, imagine-thominho for the head canon.
