-Thanks for so many amazing, awesome reviews! Here's more Minewt! Yay! :D-
-DAY 4: Dress up, and have a fancy date night-
There was really only one truly nice place to eat near Glade City, so yeah, they went to Starstruck.
-X-X-X-
"Newt! Get dressed in something other than a hoodie!"
The yelled comment came from Minho, who was currently in the shower. The hot water hissed around him and sent dripping strands of raven hair into his eyes. He smoothed some of it off his face and strained to listen for Newt's voice over the running water.
"Okay, okay!" Newt shouted back a second later. "Does that mean something formal or something somewhat-nice?"
"Formal-ish!" Minho called back.
"That doesn't answer my question!"
Minho grinned, not feeling guilty at all for teasing his husband. He was too happy, stupidly happy, even. He felt wonderfully high on the night ahead and on silly love for Newt. He hadn't told Newt where they were going yet; he wanted it to be a surprise. He'd decided that it had been too long since they'd had a proper night out, without Belle skipping between restaurant tables, or Minho exchanging insults with someone. God, the last time they'd actually dressed up for a date was back when Newt proposed to Minho outside Starstruck. So, yeah, about four years ago.
Four years, they'd been married. Minho never knew that only four years of a lifetime could be the best years of someone's life.
"I hope he still likes Starstruck," he muttered to himself. "Because there's nowhere else to go around here."
Suddenly, from outside, he heard the click of the door swinging open and thumping footsteps. A familiar, accented voice sounded through the frosted glass shower door. "Minho, can you please just tell me where we're going? I have no idea what to even wear."
"Suit," Minho answered casually.
"WHAT?"
"You heard me."
"Uggghhh, I don't wanna wear a suit..."
"Wow. Whiner."
"Okay, you know what—" A shadowy figure appeared in the door's glass, right before someone hauled the shower door open. Newt stood outside, blonde hair rumpled and wearing a white dress shirt with only half the buttons done so far.
Minho yelped. "Hey!" he protested, lifting hands in a what-the-shuck gesture. "They have this great new thing called privacy!"
Newt flapped a hand uncaringly. "I've seen you before," he scoffed. "Now, tell me where we're going."
"No." Minho folded his arms stubbornly over his chest.
"Minho, come on."
"It's a surprise."
Newt sighed in frustration. The gaping V of his shirt showed a glimpse of soft skin and the black ink of his M tattoo. He looked like he'd just been put up against a wall and kissed. Minho swallowed. "Min, I'm warning you," Newt said, pointing at Minho imperiously. "If you don't tell me, I'll come in there."
Minho flashed a deadly smirk. "Come in then, sweetheart, that's not a punishment to me."
"Shank." Newt dropped his gaze down and then up quickly, when he realized he was basically ravishing Minho with his eyes. A blush tinted his cheeks. "Just get ready so I can find out where you're taking me."
"I'll take you right here, if you want..." Minho suggested darkly.
"Be quiet, you know what I mean." Newt cast his gaze heavenward, as though asking for strength. But he paused, and then flitted forward to press a short kiss to Minho's mouth. Minho hummed in appreciation, especially when Newt took the time to lick a drop of water off his bottom lip. "Don't tempt me, love," Newt murmured, "or I won't be able to leave and we'll miss the whole night you have planned."
"Who says this isn't part of the plan?" Minho asked devilishly. He leaned in for another kiss, but Newt backed away.
"I have to get dressed," Newt replied meaningfully. "In a suit, according to you. So, no, you can't have me now." A smile twisted his lips and he actually winked at Minho before shutting the shower door again.
Minho stared after him and considered cancelling the entire night.
-X-X-X-
It was positively adorable when Newt let out a delighted squeak as they pulled into the parking lot of Starstruck. The squat, cream-colored building sat proudly with its glass double doors, decorated with black stars and its logo in elegant lettering. The outside lights were softly glowing down on the walkway outside the doors and rich, heavy curtains were visible through the windows. It was just as busy and beautiful as it always was.
"Happy now?" Minho asked loftily, as he pulled the car toward an empty parking space.
"Yes!" Newt answered with such giddy happiness that it made Minho melt. The blonde leaned across the car to kiss Minho's cheek affectionately. "I love Starstruck."
"I remembered," Minho replied, with a humble shrug.
"How—?" Newt's question trailed away when Minho just took his hand and rubbed his thumb over his wedding ring.
"Because you asked me something here," Minho replied simply. Smiling, he let go of Newt's hand again.
Newt's eyes shone like twin, storm-blue orbs. "I forgive you for keeping this a secret," he told Minho, glancing out the car window at the magnificent restaurant again. The backdrop of the building's lighting gave him a lovely glow in his fitted suit. "But only because they have great food," he added with a half-grin.
Minho tore his gaze off of his stunning husband so that he could park the car without crashing. "They do have great food, don't they? I forgot what I even got here last time though..." He finally eased the car into place and shut off the engine. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt, looking over at Newt. "You really forgive me?"
"Forgive you?" Newt repeated, chuckling in such a lovestruck way that it had Minho's stomach tingling with butterflies. "I could kiss you right now."
Minho raised one eyebrow. "Well, I mean," he began, fiddling with his sleeves, "you can, if you want."
"Oh yeah, I forgot," Newt replied playfully. "You're my husband." He said "husband" as though it was a sacred thing, a gift. He bent across the car again and turned Minho's face toward him with a finger on his chin; their lips brushed and he kissed Minho softly. When he broke it, he let their noses brush as he spoke. "I don't know what I did to deserve you to be mine," he murmured. "I get to be with you every day, and do this—" He stroked fingertips down Minho's cheek, eliciting a tiny purr. "—touch you whenever I want."
"Feeling sentimental?" Minho asked.
"Shut up." Newt gave Minho's hair a chastising tug. "I just love that you love me."
"Well, angel," Minho murmured, taking Newt's hand and kissing his knuckles, "I love that you love me, too."
When they walked into the restaurant together, there were the usual stares and a couple of whispers. Not many people here were used to seeing two guys together. But they all had the decency to keep their mouths shut for the most part and none of them confronted the couple. Minho had gotten a table close to the center of the room, a little farther away from the surrounding ones. Directly in front of it was a raised floor with a gorgeous grand piano shining under the lamplight. Someone sat at it and played, a young man with dark curls and eyes that flashed amber. In the process of pulling out his chair, Minho paused and stared.
"I don't believe it."
"What?" Newt followed Minho's gaze and narrowed his eyes at the pianist. Then his eyebrows shot up. "No way."
"It's Brian," Minho replied, and broke into a broad grin. "I didn't know he came back from New York."
"I didn't know he played piano," Newt put in.
Minho bent to speak in Newt's ear. "Think he'll recognize us?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Newt asked in return. "We both look pretty much the same, just older. And if he doesn't recognize our looks, he'll DEFINITELY remember your sarcasm."
"True," Minho conceded, with a playfully scolding touch at the small of Newt's back. As they sat down, he looked up and met eyes once with the pianist, Brian. Brian's eyes went wider and he smiled in greeting, unable to wave because he was playing. Minho smiled back, a silent conversation. Sneaking a look at Minho's date, Brian chuckled, as though he'd known all along who Minho would end up marrying. He raised his eyebrows at Minho in question; in reply, Minho raised a hand and showed off his wedding ring.
"Where do you think Max ended up going?" Newt asked suddenly. "I know he lives near here; we saw him at Brenda's party once. But I know that he was really close to Brian."
"Those two were even more in love than we were," Minho remarked in agreement. "And I dunno. He says he's cooking somewhere now."
"Cooking? Like, as in a chef?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Newt was silent, thinking.
Minho noticed. "What?"
Shaking his head, Newt fiddled with a folded napkin. "Nothing," he answered. "I just wonder..."
Their conversation was then interrupted by the arrival of the waiter. "Sorry about the wait; we're short on staff tonight, and I'm normally in the... Minho?"
Minho glanced up and—almost fell off his chair. A spiky-haired redhead was looking down at him through round, green eyes, a spray of freckles across his nose. He wore waiter's clothes: black pants and a white button-down shirt. But there was no mistaking the familiar features. "Max! You work here?"
"Well, yeah," Max chuckled, a friendly smile quirking his lips. "I've been working here since I got out of culinary school."
"I can't believe I never knew." Minho cocked his head. "Aren't you a cook though?"
Max scrubbed at the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I am," he admitted. "But one of our waiters had an emergency last-minute and I volunteered to fill in. Otherwise, Frypan would've had a fit."
"Frypan?" Minho echoed.
"He's the head chef. That's his nickname."
"Does he have a real name?"
"...I actually don't know."
They shared fond laughter with each other, arising from years of friendship in high school. Max had been on the track team with Minho, along with Brian. They'd been great friends until college stole them all away in different directions. In fact, the only people who had stuck together through college were Minho, Newt, Thomas, and Gally.
Max's voice brought Minho back out of old memories. "Hi, Newt," the redhead greeted brightly. "How've you been?"
Unease coiled in Minho's stomach; the last time Max had spoken to them, Newt had been jealous of the redhead's old crush on Minho. But there was nothing like that in Newt's expression as he gave Max a polite nod. "Hey, Max. It's good to see you." Then he cast a quick glance at Minho. "We've been doing well." The way he added the "we" suggested that maybe he was a bit jealous; he was showing that they were Newt-and-Minho, and there wouldn't be one without the other.
Minho didn't mind. It was doing no harm and he liked seeing a possessive Newt. "Actually, we have some news," he spoke up. "I don't think you heard..."
"Heard what?" Max asked, intrigued.
"We've, um," Minho began, glancing over at Newt, "we've adopted. A daughter."
The shock and then joy on Max's face sent Minho's fatherly pride soaring. "Seriously? That's great! What's her name, how old is she?"
Now Newt was beaming proudly. "Annabelle," he answered. "And she's about seven or eight. It was hard to tell, since she was an orphan and she didn't really know her birthday."
"Congratulations, then. That's awesome." Max shifted his weight to his other foot, thoughtful. "You know, I always knew you two would end up together like this. Not just married, I mean, but just, I dunno. It's always been you two, you know?"
Minho warmed under the compliments. Under the table, Newt was holding his hand. "Thanks," he said in humble gratitude. "What about you, Max?"
Max's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Bobbing his head in the direction of Brian, Minho raised an eyebrow knowingly. "I noticed that Brian works here too. Are you two...?"
Max's freckles dimmed as his cheeks bloomed with color. "O—oh. Um." His gaze wandered over to Brian and softened with fondness. "Yes. We're back together."
"That's awesome," Minho replied, and he meant it. Brian and Max were a great couple. "I'm glad you guys found each other again."
"Yeah, I was floored when Frypan hired him," Max said, toeing the floor with his shoe. "At first, I thought it was too late for us because it'd been too long. But then he—" He halted abruptly, some memory surfacing in his mind that he shouldn't share. "Well...yeah. We got back together."
"I'm really happy for you two," Newt put in, taking Minho off-guard. Where had the hint of jealousy gone? Newt was smiling up at Max like they were best friends.
"Thank you," Max said humbly. Then he froze, eyes widening. "Oh, crap, I completely forgot about your order! I'm supposed to work!"
Minho sniggered at his friend's sudden panic. "Don't worry about it," he reassured. "We were the ones that kept you waiting too long."
"Sorry," Max apologized anyway. He was fishing a black notebook and a pen out of his pocket. "But I can totally take your order now, if you want. It was really nice talking to you."
"It was," Newt agreed, and Minho squeezed his hand under the table.
They gave Max their order and he jotted it down in a hurry. Apologizing again, he strode toward the mahogany double doors off to the side, which probably led to the kitchen. As he passed the piano, Brian made eye contact and winked. Max's ears turned pink and he tripped over his own feet on his way into the kitchen. Love made such wonderful fools of people.
As soon as he was out of sight, Minho sent Newt a wide-eyed look of question. Newt raised a hand, as though to say, what're you looking at? "What?" he asked aloud.
"Since when are you so friendly around Max?" Minho asked.
"I'm always friendly around him."
"Yeah, okay. The last time we saw him somewhere, you got jealous."
"Did not."
"You admitted it." Bending over so that other customers wouldn't overhear, Minho murmured into Newt's ear, "and you had hot, jealous sex with me that night..."
"Oh, of course you'd remember THAT," Newt replied drily. "So what if I was jealous? I'm not jealous now."
"Yeah. 'cause he has a boyfriend now instead of going after me." Minho traced his fingers over the inside of Newt's palm in a way that he knew tickled. Newt jerked his hand away and Minho smirked.
"Exactly." Newt laced his fingers in his lap, not letting Minho get ahold of him again. "Good thing too," he added in a mutter. "Last time, I wanted to bloody deck him."
"Oooh, my angel's acting bad again..."
"Shut it, Min."
"No, go on." Minho rested his elbow on the table and set his chin atop his hand. He looked at Newt from under his lashes. "I like it when you get possessive of me," he purred.
"You're being such a flirt tonight," Newt informed him accusingly. "Trying to get something?"
Minho's gaze dropped deliberately to Newt's lips. "A kiss."
After a moment, Newt relented. "Fine. If that's all." He leaned in as Minho did the same and they kissed once, short, but soft. Before they pulled completely away, Newt added in a breath, "you better not be trying to get something more from me later."
"Love, don't pretend you don't want to give that 'something more' to me later," Minho whispered back, and Newt shivered.
"Shuck." Sitting back against his chair, Newt fingered the tablecloth. "You're so bloody...sexy all the time," he mumbled.
Minho snagged Newt's hand again and stroked his thumb over the back of it. "That's why you love me, right?"
Newt watched in silence, as Minho brought Newt's hand up and kissed his knuckles. His posture relaxed and something like intense affection passed over his face. "Yeah," he said quietly, and smiled. "Among other reasons. Like how you take me out on expensive dates."
Minho couldn't resist kissing the back of Newt's hand again. "Anything for you, sweetheart."
And so, began their first real date, in a long long time.
