Guess what, more Minewt! I am way too addicted and I really don't care! Read and enjoy the fluff! :D-
-DAY 12: Do one spontaneous thing for the other (slightly modified cuz I didn't feel like writing the rest of the challenge)-
Newt was the best husband in the world.
-X-X-X-
It was late, kids were wild, and Minho was tired. Just another day at the music shop.
The music store Minho worked and taught at was a quaint little building in between neat houses and the beginnings of Glade City. If you thought about it, it was a perfect place to work: not too far away to drive, an enjoyable atmosphere of orangish walls and steel strings, and working with kids. In reality, it could easily turn into Hell.
It all started when Ryan Harding walked through the double glass doors. He was this short kid with straw-colored hair and a baggy T-shirt. Maybe eight years old. At first glance, he seemed like a perfectly normal young boy. But as soon as his mother explained that he would be taking guitar lessons, he turned into the Devil. "You aren't playing this right," he would snap, to his TEACHER, "this is too wrong, it doesn't sound right, let ME try..."
The nagging continued:
This is boring. This is stupid. I wanna go home. Why do you get the nice guitar? How come I have this weird one? What happens if I cut the strings? CAN I cut the strings?
On and on and on.
Minho was at the point of debating which would kill him faster: bashing himself in the head with the guitar, or listening to more of this kid. The listening was a slow, excruciating torture. Sitting on a wooden stool at the lessons corner of the shop, a boy squealing that his fingers hurt from the strings, Minho was ready for death. There was no way he would survive much longer. Really, he was half-dozing by now, tuning out Ryan's endless chatter. He had an elbow propped on his guitar and his chin on his hand. His free fingers rubbed idly along the instrument's smooth curve. Newt had bought the guitar for him. (So no, brat, you could NOT cut the strings) Minho tried not to think about Newt though; it was hard enough to get through the day without dreaming about the beautiful blonde waiting for him at home.
"I wanna go home," Minho muttered, too low for Ryan to hear in the midst of his childish tirade.
"Don't we all?" The voice of Miranda, the fair-haired woman who ran the shop, came suddenly from behind. She appeared at Minho's side with a sympathetic smile and blue questioning eyes. "Tired?"
Minho sighed, dragging a hand over his face. "God," he mumbled, muffled in his palm.
"That bad?" Miranda asked, quietly so that Ryan (now fiddling with his guitar and complaining to another customer about its sound) wouldn't hear.
"It may be the worst day of my life." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Minho blew out a rough breath.
She patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I feel for you, Minho."
"You're the only one who does."
"Mmmm I dunno about that." She said it in a light voice, like she knew a secret. The raised-eyebrows look she gave him only increased the effect.
Minho twisted in his seat to glance up at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Smile widening into a grin, Miranda straightened and pointed at the back door. It led back to a back room for the employees, complete with a table, chairs, and mini fridge for lunches. "Take a break," she suggested. "It looks like you need it, anyway."
Not knowing what this was about, Minho hesitated. "But what about—?"
"I'll deal with him," she cut him off, bobbing her head toward Ryan. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can handle him for a while."
There were no other protests to be made. "Thanks, Miranda," Minho exhaled in relief. Standing, he placed his guitar carefully in its open case on the floor. Then he practically jogged across the store to get to that back room. He was already imagining sneaking a nap on the worn couch at the back or maybe finding something cold to drink in the fridge. However, those plans never happened.
As soon as he opened the door, a pair of hands took the front of his shirt and dragged him inside. Minho's eyes widened. "Whoa, who're y—?" He broke off at the familiar sight of dark blue eyes and blonde hair, charmingly ruffled.
"Hey, beautiful," Newt greeted lowly, leaning up to place a lingering kiss on Minho's mouth. "Tired?"
Minho was taken off-guard by the sight of Newt here at work. "Yeah," he answered slowly. "But, uh...Newt? What're you doing here?"
"Came to see you," Newt explained, massaging little circles into Minho's shoulders. "Don't worry, I can't stay all day. I'll be heading back home soon to get Belle off the bus."
"But you did come to see me?"
"Yeah. And I brought you food, cuz I know you're hungry and sick of working with toddlers."
"...is there a special reason for this?"
"No. I just wanted to do something for you, I guess."
"I love you," Minho declared, and cupped Newt's face to kiss him again. Newt grinned against Minho's lips before returning the kiss, their lips fitting together lazily. It was Newt who pulled away first, tipping his forehead into Minho's as though to say, "behave." Minho slung his fingers on Newt's hoodie pocket, caught between the tempting smell of food and the desire to put his husband up against the wall.
Peering over Newt's shoulder, Minho took one look at the steaming plate of food and the bottled iced tea next to it, and whimpered in relief. "You are amazing," he stated. Newt blushed as Minho pecked his nose. "I'm serious. You are amazing, and a freaking awesome cook, and I can't wait to come home to you tonight."
"I'll be waiting," Newt replied softly, a snarky tilt to his lips. "Any other wishes, your Highness?"
Minho thought. "Uhhhhhh..."
"I'm kidding."
Minho pouted and Newt only laughed. Running his fingers through Minho's hair, he sighed in bliss. "I gotta get going," he murmured. "But I'll see you later, all right?"
Minho had to smile. "Definitely."
Newt touched their lips together one last time and whispered, "love you, Minho." Then he was gone, slipping out the door in a flash of golden hair and porcelain skin. It was like an angel has just flown from the room.
Minho was still smiling stupidly at an empty room.
He could barely hear the sounds of Ryan's complaints anymore.
