-It's done! This is the last chapter of 30 Shades. I'm so happy with this and you guys have been the best readers I could ever ask for. I hope you like this last chapter and I look forward to writing more for you in the future. Until next time! :)-

-DAY 30: Turn on some slow music, and dance-

"Ohh, my love,

my darling,

I've hungered for your touch, alone

Lonely time...

And time goes by so slowly,

And time can do so much...

Are you still mine?"

–Unchained Melody, by The Righteous Brothers.

-X-X-X-

It was a very quiet, very lonely night. Spring was on its way, but winter refused to leave quite yet; frost dappled the ground outside in silver glitter and the branches of the trees rattled in a chilly wind. But the inside of the house was warm and there was a pleasant glow from the TV screen, playing across the white of the couch cushions and carpet. Somewhere in a blue-walled bedroom, a girl giggled at a calico cat, her hair matching the fire-red splotches on its fur. They curled together atop her bed, two conspirators in the lamplight.

In the kitchen, Minho opened the fridge and searched inside for a moment. The quiet was disrupted by his voice calling cheekily into the living room: "wine?"

"No," came Newt's wry answer.

Minho pouted, though Newt couldn't see him. "You're no fun."

"And you're not getting me drunk."

"That's what you think," Minho muttered to himself slyly. Stretching over to a cabinet, he chose two glasses, both with elegant stems.

When he wandered back into the living room, Newt took one look at what he was holding. "Minho, you suck," he stated matter-of-factly. He shifted as the couch moved with Minho's weight.

"I know," Minho chirped. "Here." He held out a glass invitingly.

Sighing, Newt accepted it and took a sip. He sank back against the couch, long legs stretched out, in dark clingy denim. Minho's smile was triumphant as he idly tasted his own drink. He hadn't had wine in a while. It was both bitter and sweet on his tongue. He blinked when Newt took his free hand and lifted it; the blonde ducked under Minho's arm and slung it around his shoulders. Minho's smile broadened when Newt tucked himself up against his side. Newt noticed and sent him a questioning glance. "What?"

"I like you," Minho told him jokingly.

The side of Newt's mouth quirked up. "Really? I never would've guessed."

"Shuckface." Pressing a kiss to the top of Newt's head, Minho skimmed his hand up and down the blonde's arm. The fabric of Newt's red-and-black striped shirt was soft and it smelled like him, like something entirely too sweet. Minho felt his body relax just by breathing it in.

On the TV screen, there was some movie trailer playing. It looked like a romantic comedy, judging by the two characters staring dreamily at each other. Minho recognized the song playing in the background as All Of Me, by John Legend. An idea hit him and he poked Newt in the shoulder. "Hey."

Newt glanced up at him, a questioning look in his eyes as his lips touched the rim of his glass again. The look on his face was begging for a kiss and Minho had to hold back that thought. "What?" he asked after swallowing.

"You wanna dance?"

"Dance?"

"Well, yeah. I have some music."

"...this is very random of you."

There was obvious suspicion in his voice and Minho gave a sarcastic eye-roll. "Why do you always think I have alternate reasons for doing things with you?"

"Because the last time we danced somewhere, we ended up having sex in a hotel room," Newt replied, deadpan.

Well, he did have a good point. Not that sex was what Minho was after, of course. (He certainly wouldn't complain if it went that way, though) "Yeah, well, there's no hotel room here, so you don't have to worry about that," he replied, and Newt snorted. Minho stretched forward to place his glass on the coffee table and pushed up off the couch. He could feel Newt's eyes on his back as he clicked the remote to turn off the TV and searched on a nearby table for the remote for the speaker system in the corner. Once he found it, he didn't even wait to see what song would play. He'd been listening to it a few days ago, so he knew exactly which one it was. He pushed the button. A rich voice slid from the speakers into the room:

"Ohh, my love, my darling... I've hungered for your touch... Alone... Lonely time..."

Hopelessly romantic as he was, Minho was addicted to this song. He smiled at Newt over his shoulder. "You gonna get over here, or what?"

"I don't suppose I have a choice now," Newt replied, but there was a glimmer in his blue eyes. A clink came from his glass being set on the table beside Minho's and a little soft sound came from him tugging the hem of his shirt down when he stood up. Minho had time to notice all of this, and to notice the softening in Newt's gaze, before the blonde reached him. "I'll be the girl," Newt said sarcastically, resting his hands on Minho's shoulders. "But only because you're taller."

"I'll be the guy then," Minho decided, "because you're short." He received a punch in the arm in reply. Laughing, he set his hands at Newt's waist and pulled him in closer. That wonderful sugary smell of his cologne hit Minho's senses and made him slightly dizzy. He fought the urge to sigh when Newt's fingertips slid along the nape of his neck.

"And time can do so much...are you...still mine?"

As if by some unspoken message, the two began to dance. It was slow and smooth, and showed every time they'd ever danced before. They moved in a circle around the living room floor, socked feet padding across the carpet. The music felt as though it was sinking into Minho's bones, making him drowsy and drunk. Newt's hands roamed from his neck to his shoulders, warm through the fabric of his black T-shirt. He bit down a sigh when Newt massaged his shoulders.

"You're still quite the dancer," Newt remarked in half-amusement, half-warmth.

"So are you," Minho replied with the curve of a grin. He pulled Newt in by the waist until their bodies touched. His breath caught when Newt practically melted into him, pressing himself up against Minho and resting his head on his shoulder. His fair hair brushed Minho's neck and one of his hands slipped down to stay on Minho's chest. Minho rested his cheek against Newt's head and closed his eyes. "Angel," he murmured, not needing to say anything else.

The softest of sighs tickled his neck and Newt's hand moved again, from his chest to his stomach, and then his hip. It stayed there, in that perfect too-low place with his fingers grazing the side of Minho's thigh and his thumb hooked in his belt loop. Minho couldn't comprehend how the simplest of touches could make his heart feel like it was in overdrive. "Newt," he mumbled.

"What?" Newt breathed it against his skin and his lips brushed Minho's neck as he did it, and it took everything Minho had to stay sane.

He asked it, because it was one those nights when he felt vulnerable, terribly, wonderfully vulnerable, and he wanted to hear Newt say it. "Can I kiss you?"

A light chuckle, a pause in their steps, and Newt's azure eyes rising to meet his own. He kept that hand at Minho's hip, but now his thumb snuck beneath the hem of his shirt to trace the skin there. "Anytime you want," he answered.

Minho's lips quirked at the corner, but there was nothing but seriousness in how he leaned their foreheads together. His hands were insistent on the small of Newt's back, bunching in his shirt. He heard Newt's soft, "Minho," and watched the way his lips moved to shape the name. Impulsive, he reached up to cup Newt's jaw and stroked his thumb down Newt's bottom lip. The tiny gasp Newt let out made him tremble. He didn't say a word as he leaned in, because he wanted to see the way Newt's eyelids slid down and his breath hitched.

"Daddy! Dad! Look at this!"

It was not exactly a welcome distraction at the moment.

Minho pulled back before their lips ever met, biting his lower lip. The flash of disappointment in Newt's gaze almost made it bearable. The blonde cleared his throat in embarrassment and moved his hand to a chaste spot on Minho's side. "Dammit," Minho muttered. Then he peered over Newt's shoulder at Belle. "What is it, honey?"

The Newton's adoptive daughter toed the floor in a bashful manner, green eyes darting to her fathers' faces. "I did a makeover for Coal!" she announced, red tutu flapping as she jumped up eagerly. "Look!"

Newt gave her a smile. "That's great, Anna—Oh." Then he stared when she lifted up a very irritated Coal with a multitude of blue bows tied along her tail. There was one sitting atop her head and she twitched her whiskers up at him as though to say, get me out of this, now.

"Wow." Minho raised his eyebrows. "She looks great. I bet she loves it."

"Doesn't look like she loves it," Newt muttered to him.

"She knew what she was getting into when we adopted."

"Minho, she's a cat."

Minho had no argument to that. Unchained Melody still crooned, "are you still mine?" in the background and he remembered what they'd been doing before Belle ran in. "You did an awesome job, Belle," he told her and she giggled happily. "But Coal has to go to bed soon and I don't think she can sleep with those bows in, so..."

"Oh yeah!" Belle exclaimed. "Okay, no problem, Dad!" Scooping Coal up to her chest, she kissed the top of her head. "C'mon, Coal. I'll help you get de-makeovered." With that, she scampered off, trailing meows and laughter behind her.

An adorably childish snicker came from Newt. "De-makeovered," he snorted, like it was the funniest thing in the world. Then he glanced up and part of his grin vanished when he saw Minho's serious expression. "What?"

Minho shook his head wonderingly. "I love you," he whispered, before tangling his fingers in Newt's hair and pulling their mouths together.

A little noise of surprise came from Newt as he stiffened. But he was over it in a moment. He grabbed Minho by the back of the neck and God, his tongue was on Minho's now and their hips were melting together. Minho dropped his hands to the back of Newt's shirt, crinkling the fabric up. His palms found the bared skin of Newt's lower back and stroked over it, reveling in the smooth softness. Something like a whimper left Newt's mouth, trapped between them. It sounded like a desperate, "Min." Minho would've given anything to hear that again.

They were needy, they were all over each other. Newt's kisses stopped being slow and turned into gasping want. Minho kneaded his fingers into Newt's back beneath his shirt and slipped a hand down Newt's hip; curling his fingers around the back of Newt's thigh, he hooked the blonde's leg around his. He wanted to be closer. They were pressed together, from head to toe, but he still wanted to be closer. He bit down on Newt's bottom lip. And oh, Newt's fingers raked through his hair, curling around the strands and pulling just right, and Minho was moaning before he could stop it.

Newt broke away when he heard it, delight on his face and his breaths shallow. "You haven't kissed me like that since forever ago," he breathed out, words stumbling over each other.

"I figured it'd been too long," Minho joked, though he couldn't hide the catch in his voice. He bent his head, nudging Newt's head aside, and nuzzled into his neck. He was content to just brush a kiss there and rest his forehead on Newt's shoulder.

Newt's body relaxed against his, hand stroking down the length of Minho's back. His lips touched Minho's ear. "This is a good song," he remarked in a whisper.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Silence, besides the music sinking into the room around them. Minho closed his eyes and imagined that he was back at their wedding, taking Newt across the dance floor. He sighed. "I need you."

It wasn't meant in any other way besides that, a simple true meaning. Newt knew that and though Minho didn't know how he knew it, he did. Newt kissed his husband's neck and murmured, "I need you too."

There wasn't anything else they needed to say. Everything had already been said. Except—

"And yes," Newt whispered as the music faded, "I'm still yours."