-WARNING: you will be exposed to extreme fluffiness and flirting and Minewt. I'm terribly sorry for the excessive amount of fluff I stuffed into this one. God. I have such an addiction to this.
Anyhoo, this was very fun to write, and even though it was SUPPOSED to be more about an actual concert, it, um, yeah, it's just fluff. :)
Enjoy!-
-DAY 8: Go see a concert or show together-
Newt had Downton Abbey and English tea. Minho had running.
Oh, and they both had Fall Out Boy.
-X-X-X-
"This is the best day of my life."
Newt laughed out loud, after taking one look at Minho's bright, excited face as they waited in line. "Are you seriously this excited about this?" he asked in amusement.
"YES." Minho rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, peering over the heads of the people in front of him. "I can't believe they came to Glade City, because they never do, and I'm having such a fangirl moment right now, it's ridiculous."
"No, it's hilarious," Newt corrected him playfully. And it was. He couldn't remember seeing Minho so pumped over something Newt had gotten him.
You might be wondering what Newt got him. Well, Newt, through painstaking research and effort, managed to buy amazing tickets to the concert of Fall Out Boy. They hardly EVER came to Glade City. Newt knew as soon as he spotted the ad online that he had to get the tickets for his husband. Minho had recently become obsessed with Fall Out Boy's music, with Newt's help. He hummed it while he did dishes, learned acoustic versions on guitar, and even sang it in the shower. It was funny and cute to see Minho so happy over a band. So yeah, Newt got tickets and drove them up early to get the best spot right up front.
He was an awesome husband, he decided.
Plus, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to see Fall Out Bot really bad too.
"Ugh, this line is so looooonnnnng," Minho groaned, stretching up on tiptoe to squint over people's heads again. After a failed attempt to see the front of the line, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets to pout.
"Relax," Newt assured him. "We're still way closer than all those people behind us."
"Yeah, that's exactly what THEY'RE saying about us," Minho pointed out, pointing at the crowd before them.
Newt snorted. "You're so impatient."
"You're so annoying."
"I can take my tickets back, then."
"I'm sorry, I love you."
"Damn right."
Minho barked a laugh and Newt's stomach fluttered at the sound. Pretending to check out the line again, he snuck a few glances at his husband from the corner of his eye. Wearing a maroon-colored jacket over a white tee, Minho looked soft and adorable, even with his broad shoulders straining the fabric just a bit. He also looked deadly sexy in dark, clingy jeans; how could he be cute and hot at the same time? It was not fair. Newt paled in comparison in his baggy, white sweatshirt.
Even in the warmer clothes, though, it was cold. Autumn nights were starting to settle in more and more lately. Newt pushed his hands into his jeans pockets and shivered. Waiting in line in the chilly evening air wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. He wished he'd taken his hoodie from the car. "Hey, Min?" he asked hesitantly.
Minho raised his eyebrows in question. "What?"
"I'm cold."
"I'm not going back to the car for you."
"I didn't say I wanted you to."
"Then what do you want me to do?"
Newt gave his sweetest smile. "Hold me?" he asked, nudging at the sidewalk with the toe of a black Converse shoe.
Minho took one look at the blonde's pouty, pleading expression. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, he offered one arm to Newt. "You're lucky I like you so much," he informed Newt wryly.
"Thank you!" Newt chirped, in too good of a mood to come up with a smart comeback. He scampered up to his husband and Minho snagged the sleeve of his sweatshirt to pull him in close.
Minho blinked as Newt unexpectedly tugged the zipper of his jacket open. "Hey, what're you—?" He broke off as Newt hugged him for warmth, arms now inside Minho's open jacket.
"It's warmer this way," Newt mumbled, burying his face in Minho's chest. Dear God, Minho simply radiated heat and there was a distracting ripple of muscle pressing into Newt from under his shirt. He sighed contentedly as the warmth soaked into his bones. He took a precious moment to thank Heaven above for the gift that was Minho Newton.
"You're like a little kid with a cold," Minho remarked playfully. He linked his hands together behind Newt's back, strong arms adding to the body heat they shared.
"Mmmm," Newt hummed in incoherent agreement. He curled his fingers in the back of Minho's shirt.
Jerking a little, Minho squeaked. "Shuck, your hands are freezing!"
"Duh. That's why I'm hugging you right now. I said I was cold."
"I didn't know it was that bad."
"It's not, really. I'll be fine."
Minho growled at Newt's stubbornness. "I should get you your hoodie," he muttered, guiding Newt as the line inched forward a couple steps.
"I'll be okay," Newt insisted.
"Then I should give you my jacket when we get in there." Minho nuzzled Newt's soft, golden hair. "A good husband would give you his jacket."
"A good husband wouldn't freeze to death for me," Newt deadpanned, rolling his eyes.
"Whatever." Placing a kiss on the top of Newt's head, Minho prompted the blonde to look up at him. Smiling crookedly, Minho massaged little circles into Newt's back. "Love you, angel."
Newt's heart melted between them and seeped onto the pavement in a puddle. He stretched up and stole a kiss from Minho's lips. "I love you, too."
Waiting in line suddenly seemed much more bearable.
That didn't mean that Newt didn't freak out like a bloody girl when they reached the FRONT. LIKE, THE FRONT OF THE LINE TO SEE FALL OUT BOY OH MY GOD. He was just glad he wasn't the only one having a freakout session; Minho practically plowed a couple over in his attempt to get to the stage.
The pair wandered inside the fenced-in area for a bit to find somewhere to stand. The stage at Glade City was relatively small, but nice enough. It was big, steely, and lit up like Christmas. There were vendors selling T-shirts advertising the band and places to buy food and drinks. Then there were the places in front of the stage. Originally, Newt had hoped to get a place right up front. But after seeing how tightly packed that mob was going to be, he decided against it. Minho didn't mind that they chose a spot toward the back, where clusters of teenagers and adults alike were gathering. He dropped a quick kiss on Newt's cheek and, being the sappy sweetheart he was, he ran back to the car to get Newt his hoodie.
They still had quite a bit of time before the concert started anyway. Newt sipped Pepsi from a bottle and waited as the sun sank lower and stained the sky dusky purple.
-X-X-X-
Minho made it back just in time.
"Newt!"
At the familiar call, Newt glanced around. Minho appeared, weaving between people with a pale blue hoodie tucked under his arm. He swore when he tripped over someone's ankle and had to hop to regain his footing. The person unwisely shot him a dirty look and he shot one right back. By the time he made it to Newt, he was breathless. "Here," he managed, holding out the hoodie. "Got it."
"Thanks, Minho." Newt touched Minho's shoulder in gratitude before shrugging into his hoodie. It was one of his warmer, thick ones. Sighing in relief, he snuggled into it like it was a favorite blanket. "This is much better."
"You're so lucky you have me," Minho commented loftily.
"Hey, YOU'RE the lucky one," Newt returned. "I got us the tickets to this thing."
"Oh, right."
"Uh-huh." Newt turned his attention back to the stage, a slight tilt to his lips.
"Wipe that smirk off your face," Minho teased, ruffling Newt's hair.
Newt's grin broadened and he ducked away from Minho. His blue eyes flashed challengingly. "Make me," he dared.
"You little—" Moving fast, Minho grabbed Newt by the waist and yanked him over. Laughing, Newt twisted to get away, but Minho pressed the blonde to his chest. "Are you LAUGHING at me now?"
Hands planted on Minho's shoulders, Newt giggled stupidly, silly with Minho's presence. "Maybe."
"Oh, you're really in for it now." Minho's hands climbed up Newt's back.
Sparks ignited under Newt's skin and he hooked his fingers around the back of Minho's neck. He couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the tempting, soft curve of Minho's mouth. "Shut up and bloody kiss me," he said huskily.
Minho brushed their noses together. "I love it when you go all British on me," he murmured, before connecting their smiles.
Newt sighed into Minho's mouth, parting his lips at the first touch of Minho's tongue. Minho's hair was black velvet between his fingers and Minho's taste was honey on his lips. A hand snuck into his back pocket, reeling their hips together in an almost-too-intimate touch. Because they were in public, Newt wouldn't let it last too long. But just before he pulled back, he nipped at Minho's upper lip. He heard the soft whimper that came and fought hard not to smile.
Their foreheads touched. Minho opened dazed, dark eyes and looked over his angel. "You," he whispered softly, "are all mine tonight, Isaac Newton."
"Tonight," Newt agreed, with a pull at Minho's hair at the back of his head. "And every other night."
If looks could touch, Minho was touching Newt all over. His very attitude screamed, take me home with you.
Shuck, did Newt love being married.
Sadly, their intimate looks and stolen touches were interrupted by Fall Out Boy.
Not that they were complaining.
Much.
