rabenhorst: (stock: morning kisses)
rabenhorst ([personal profile] rabenhorst) wrote2013-12-01 02:05 pm

[fic] Minho/Key – SHINee – High Maintenance - Chapter 4/10

Title: High Maintenance; Chapter 4/10
Author: [livejournal.com profile] fonulyn
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Pairing: Minho/girl!Key (Minho/Gwiboon)
Other characters: Jonghyun, Onew, Zhou Mi, Boa, girl!Taemin (some are around more than others)
Warnings: --
Wordcount: 47 200 (overall); 4097 for this part
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: When Gwiboon's car breaks down she expects the repairs to be an annoying hassle. Not in her wildest dreams had she hoped for an illegally hot mechanic to be there to ease her hardships.


Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3



At first, Gwiboon thought that their encounter at the garage was so hot it simply couldn’t get any better. How many times in one’s life is there a chance to get nailed on top of a gorgeous black Camaro, by a hotter than hell mechanic? Now, turns out that it can get even better when they have Gwiboon’s whole apartment at their disposal, and there’s nothing stopping them from going for round four at three a.m. after napping in each other’s arms for a while.

When Gwiboon falls asleep after, Minho is right there next to her, but when she wakes up he’s gone. She already expected it, knowing he gets up early for work each morning, but to her surprise there’s a post-it note stuck on the pillow next to her face, with a messy hurried scrawl she can’t quite decipher. She can make out Minho’s signature and the words ‘work’ and ‘later’, so she figures out it’s a promise to call later and falls back into the cushions contently.

She’s not sleepy enough anymore though, so she reaches for her phone and quickly types out a message she sends to both Boa and Jinki. She tries not to brag, she really does, but it’s not her fault she can’t describe Minho as anything else but absolutely perfect and other similar attributes. She expects short texts as a response, but instead her phone rings immediately, and she barely manages to get a greeting out before Boa speaks over her.

“You can’t just send me cryptic texts like that and call the man a sex-god,” Boa announces theatrically, “you need to elaborate, and tell me all the juicy details! I swear, I want them.”

“You really don’t, trust me,” Gwiboon laughs. “Besides I didn’t call him a sex-god! Those were so not my words, stop misquoting me!”

“You did call him divine, though,” another voice pipes up and that makes Gwiboon startle a little.

“Zhou Mi! What have I told you about reading private messages? Also, how did you wrestle the phone out of Boa’s hands?” She’s amused, though, and knows it can be heard in her voice as she’s barely able to hold back a chuckle.

It’s Boa’s turn to answer, this time. “You’re on speaker phone, honey. But don’t worry, it’s just us here. At least for now. One of the models might burst in any second but we will give you a warning beforehand.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yeah no, we won’t,” the two agree in unison. It makes them all laugh, and the next second they’re all speaking at once, trying to fill in each other’s sentences, before they calm down enough to actually listen to the summary of the past night from Gwiboon. Even then they can’t refrain from their own remarks, or excited questions, but that’s how it always is.

And Gwiboon doesn’t give them full details, only enough to feed their curiosity and to get across just what an amazing time she had. Not only because of the sex, even though it was definitely one of the highlights, but because of the dinner, the way she can simply relax around Minho, and the fun they had throughout it all.

Finally the call ends, and somehow Gwiboon has managed to bundle herself into the blankets. They still smell faintly like Minho’s cologne and sweat, which shouldn’t be such a good combination but somehow, magically, it is. She closes her eyes and inhales, and the heady, giddy feeling from last night comes rushing back. It makes her giggle a little to herself, and she presses her face into the pillow not to seem like a total maniac, laughing by herself for seemingly no reason.





Later the same day Gwiboon receives a text from Minho, asking if she’d like to meet up for lunch in the park. Gwiboon knows the park, at least, and that it’ll definitely be a lunch bought from a street vendor or from some other takeout place, but still she can’t resist the temptation and shoots Minho a text.

what are we having? should I wear the dress from yesterday? ;)


She doesn’t receive a text as a reply but an immediate phonecall from obviously slightly embarrassed Minho, who says he can take her out into a real restaurant too if that’s what she wants. It takes her at least ten minutes to calm him down and assure him that she’s fine with a nice walk in the park and grabbing something to eat there.

Eventually they agree to meet up by the southern gate, and this time Gwiboon makes sure she won’t be late. She pulls on one of her light summer dresses that flutter in the wind and make her feel like she’s in some kind of a commercial, running through a meadow of flowers with the soft breeze in her hair. The mere thought makes her laugh to herself, and of course that’s the exact moment Minho taps her shoulder.

“I was going to ask if you’re bored waiting,” he says, an amused glimmer in his eyes, “but it seems you’re amusing yourself fine.”

Gwiboon only feels the embarrassment wash over her for a split second, before she grins right back and hooks her arm in Minho’s. “I can always amuse myself. Now, show me what quality meal you wanted to offer today.” The obvious teasing earns her a gentle shove from Minho, who is gentleman enough to make sure at the same time that she won’t lose balance on her heels and faceplant into the ground.

He doesn’t have a real plan, but for once has a longer lunch break since Jonghyun is working an extended day, so they walk around a little bit, enjoying the good weather. Finally they end up waiting in line for hot dogs, and it’s only after they’ve gotten their orders and taken over one of the benches a bit further away that Gwiboon finally makes a confession. “You know, this is my first hot dog ever.”

If she hadn’t been sure about voicing it out loud, now seeing Minho’s comically surprised expression is definitely worth it. “What!? How can that even be possible? What do you eat when you come to the park?” He has some troubles in the beginning, with his mouthful of hotdog, but he’s impressively good at swallowing the rest while still speaking. It should really be more gross than it is.

“I don’t know,” Gwiboon shrugs airily, a smile dancing on her lips. “Mother had the maid fill a picnic basket when I was little. She couldn’t have any of her family eat common food, there had to be some standards you know,” she can’t keep the bitterness off her voice completely, even though she tries to play it down, “and later on… I just never ate here. Jinki and I sometimes go to the restaurant on the next street but that’s about it. If I eat out, it’s not actually in the literal sense.”

For someone who has never eaten a hotdog before she’s not hesitant at all, and bites into it with relish. She even makes this completely obscene sound of pleasure that has Minho shivering a little. He never thought someone could manage to make messy eating look sexy. Not like this, at least, with mustard smeared on her chin and lips, her cheeks puffed out as she’s trying to chew the too big of a bite all at once.

Minho laughs, shaking his head, but doesn’t say anything else before focusing on his own food. They eat in silence, except for the little sounds Gwiboon is still making, obviously completely unaware of that habit. Or maybe it only occurs with cheap common-people food. When she’s done she even licks her fingers, before grinning widely. “This is really sort of gross. I need to get to wash my hands.”

“I have a washcloth,” Minho says, not even considering if it might be considered weird to carry around singly packed wet wipes. He’s a mechanic, for god’s sake, he knows how it is when your hands are dirty and you need to get them clean fast. He digs one out for her, and it’s gratefully accepted. For a while he watches her hands move, almost hypnotized, but then suddenly something from the conversation comes back to him. “Who’s Jinki?”

Gwiboon practically lightens up, her eyes sparkling as she leans closer to Minho, smiling wickedly. “Are you jealous?” she sing-songs, even poking him in the chest playfully. “Who do you think he is, hmm?”

The truth is, Minho is sort of a little jealous. Even though he’s not sure if he has any right to be. Are they officially dating now? Or is this just a few dates for fun that’s not even supposed to lead to attachment? He does know what he wants, though, so he gives her a one-shouldered shrug. “Yes.”

That obviously takes Gwiboon by surprise but she soon melts into an honest smile, even leans in and plants a soft, chaste peck on his lips. “Jinki is my best friend,” she informs as she pulls back. “He and I have known ever since I was born, basically. My mother thinks we’d be a perfect match in marriage and my parents still haven’t given up hope on that. There are two problems though,” she shifts a bit closer, and this time the kiss that follows is open-mouthed and not completely suitable for public places. Not that either one of them cares.

The kiss turns into a whole bunch of them, and afterwards Gwiboon seems to have forgotten what she was saying, until Minho nudges her gently and prompts her to go on. “Oh,” she laughs, “Jinki is as gay as they come. Seriously, two out of my three best friends are gay and they put up a very good fight over who’s the gayer one but I think Jinki takes the cake.”

“And..?” Minho prompts again, searching for eye contact. Only now he notices there’s still a smear of mustard on her chin, so he reaches out and wipes it off with his thumb. Somehow, maybe pulled by some invisible force, his hand stays there and he brushes his fingertips over her jaw, admiringly.

The touch works like a miracle and makes Gwiboon melt, her eyes slipping shut and her whole posture radiating contentment. “I’m sort of having other interests right now. Probably for a long time. That is,” she opens her eyes, to look straight at Minho’s, “if everything works like I’d wish.”

It’s the perfect answer, he thinks, as he leans in to kiss her again.





“Do you own a suit?”

The question is how Gwiboon immediately opens the discussion as Minho picks up the phone, not even bothering with a greeting first. It makes him grin a little, and he takes a moment to wipe his oily hands on his overalls before he readjusts the grip he has on the phone. “Yes, I own a suit. Why?” He can’t deny, he’s curious as to where this is leading. He also has a few guesses already, starting with them going to an actual high class restaurant, but he doesn’t expect the answer he gets.

“I’m going to take you to the opera!” Gwiboon exclaims, in a tone of voice that makes it clear ‘no’ is not a possible answer. “Next Friday. And you’ll need the suit since I don’t think most of the crowd there will be as fond of the hot and dirty mechanic look as I am.”

Minho is silent. Long enough for Gwiboon to grow impatient again. “Well? Do you have something against opera or why are you so silent all of a sudden?”

“No,” Minho hurries to assure, “I don’t have anything against it. I just… I’ve never been. To one. To opera. What am I supposed to do there?”

“Dumbass,” she sighs, “you’re supposed to dress your finest, come there, sit next to me and enjoy the show. It’s not rocket science, and I’m sure you’ve seen plays! It’s not like you need to do anything!”

Minho really doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he hasn’t seen a single play apart from the ones at school. It’s not like much could go wrong, right? He’ll just suit up and go there and hope he doesn’t fall asleep in the middle of it and embarrass Gwiboon to death. No biggie. “How much do I owe you? For the ticket?”

“Nothing,” Gwiboon says, firmly. “You’ve taken me to dinner, several times, and I want to take you somewhere too. Minho, I just really want to show you this. It’s not just a hobby for rich snobs, regular people go there too. And I promise you’ll like it!”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles. “You’ve got me. No need to convince me any further.”

“That’s a pity,” she says. Minho is already about to ask for clarification when he receives it anyway. “Since next I would’ve tried to bribe you with sex.”

He can’t help but laugh, a full belly-laughter that makes him shake with the force of it. “It’s not like you still can’t…” he points out, voice full of mirth, his grin even widening as she readily agrees. This is one of the reasons he enjoys their chats. She is always incredibly upfront of what she wants and likes, all the while managing to seem classy, and he has no idea how the hell she pulls it off.

Or maybe he is just too far gone already and sees her through rose coloured glasses. He’s willing to admit that, really, especially when Jonghyun later comes to tease him about how whipped he already is. There’s no denying it anyway.





The next Friday, Minho picks Gwiboon up early. He’s waiting for her at the car, and when she steps out of the building in her burgundy red dress he swears his heart skips a beat or two. There were butterflies in his stomach to begin with, and he still is a little nervous about this whole opera thing, but he wore his best – and only – suit and tried to make himself look as presentable as possible.

It seems to have worked, judging by the way Gwiboon looks at him hungrily from further away, but the closer she gets the more her expression turns into a small, displeased frown. “Is that your only… I mean, I don’t want to be rude,” she quickly backpedals, raising her hands slightly in surrender, “I’m sorry forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, it is my only suit,” Minho answers the question anyway, smiling a little sheepishly. “I know it’s not much but you know, my occupation, not really in need of fancy evening wear.” He turns more serious then, gently capturing her hand in his. “I’m sorry if I don’t fill up the standards.”

“Oh please!” Gwiboon sighs. She twines their fingers together, and uses her free hand to grab the lapels of his jacket. “You look better in this than those billboard models do in their designer suits. It’s just, if I had known I would’ve dragged you shopping and bought you a suit. You know, for added effect,” she smiles, standing on her tiptoes to aim a kiss on his lips.

“I almost want to drag you upstairs right now…” she purrs as they part, right against his lips, but before he even has the chance to reply she pulls back completely. “Now let’s go! We don’t want to be late!” She sounds so excited and chirpy that he can’t help but be affected by it too, even if only slightly, and still shadowed by the lingering nervousness.

It gets worse when they’re actually there. Minho keeps collecting odd looks and he knows it’s not because of anything positive, it’s because he looks like a beggar next to all of these people. He’s well aware that his suit is worn, it has seen its best days, but it has never made him feel this self-conscious before. To his relief, Gwiboon acts as if she doesn’t notice any of it, showing the building off before they’re led to their seats.

Minho fidgets a little nervously, thumbing through the leaflet that was handed to him when they first came in. Apparently they’re going to see La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi, and he’s at least a little comforted by the fact that he has heard of the composer before. He’s not completely uncultured, thank you very much. He almost throws a smug look around at that before he realizes it’s probably not a very big achievement in the eyes of anyone else here. Maybe it’d score him some points from Gwiboon though.

All of the thoughts that keep swirling in his head quiet though, when the lights dim and it actually begins. Minho would admit to anyone that he would’ve never come here on his own, not in a million years. Yet with every note, with every word, he feels how he’s sucked into it, until he’s practically living the story. It takes a lot of self control not to shift to the edge of his seat after the illusion of seeing better.

Afterwards, Minho doesn’t remember any of it, and at the same time he remembers everything. It’s like every single detail is soaked into his bones, but his mind is swirling with the experience so much he can’t make sense of the thoughts. He doesn’t even realize Gwiboon has been talking to him before there’s a sharp elbow jabbed into his ribs, hard enough to hurt.

“Don’t think I didn’t see those tears you almost shed,” she begins conversationally, a teasing smile dancing on her lips. “I never pinned you down as a crier.” She hooks their arms again, as they slowly stroll out and into the cooling night air. Minho blinks quickly, just in case, if there are still hints of tears visible in his eyes. He can’t deny, he did get pretty damn close to bursting into tears.

“I didn’t cry,” he says, compelled to defend his honour. It sounds childish and petulant even to his own ears, but he doesn’t really get to take it back. And it doesn’t matter, anyway, as Gwiboon only laughs and tightens her grip on his arm.

“No, but you almost did,” she admits. “So you liked it? Honestly? I wasn’t sure what to show you but this one, it almost got me into tears when I first saw it and I never cry.” She looks so excited, so animated, that even if Minho had hated it he would lie and tell her he loved it. But he doesn’t need to. He really, truly, enjoyed every single second of it. Excluding the judging glances he got from people around them for how he’s dressed.

“I did. I… I thought I’d hate it and only sit through it for you.” Minho bows his head slightly in embarrassment. “I never knew it could sound so good! And look so good!” Before he even knows it, he’s blathering on and on about the things he specifically loved in the whole experience, and with each word he speaks Gwiboon’s eyes shine a little brighter.

The enthusiasm earns Minho a quick kiss as they’re still lingering by the car. No one pays them any mind there, and he uses the moment to draw her close by her waist, his arms looped around her. “Thank you for this,” he drops his voice low, full of sincerity. “I would’ve never… not without you.”

Gwiboon is practically purring with contentment at her successful night, and she doesn’t bother to cover any of it. “We’ll do it again, sometime. I’ll show you all of my favourites,” she promises. Then, she places her palms on his chest, enjoying how she can lean against his solid body. “But first, we’re going shopping. I’m going to get you a fitted suit, and trust me, it’ll look so good that I probably won’t be able to keep my hands off you for a second. You’ll have to wear it to bed, I swear.”

That’s more than enough to make a pleasant shiver go down Minho’s spine, and he doesn’t fight the smug grin. “Wouldn’t it be a shame to get it ruined by your enthusiasm, then?” He can’t deny, the thought of Gwiboon getting all hot over him wearing a suit… it’s more than a turn on.

“Well,” Gwiboon decides firmly, “we will buy you two.”





It takes a couple of weeks for Gwiboon to notice that this has turned into a storybook romance instead of a quick and hot affair she first thought it would be. They meet several times a week and when they don’t, they still keep texting or calling each other. Not a day goes by without some sort of contact, even if it’s just one of them sending a random text to the other. Maybe it’s a force of habit, but as soon as the realization dawns on Gwiboon, she grabs her phone from her purse to inform Minho as well.

have you noticed we’re not really having a prolonged one night stand anymore?


She worries her lower lip between her teeth, tapping the phone against her chin as she waits for a reply. She’s not quite sure how she feels about this. It’s not like her to not have plans. Usually she knows, right from the start, what she’s after and what she’ll get. Yet Minho has been messing with her head ever since she first walked into that garage, and for once in her life she’s ended up in a relationship sort of unintentionally. Her train of thought is cut when her phone chimes, announcing a reply.

Yes? Were we supposed to?


The words make her grin, even laugh hoarsely, and she begins typing just when Jinki steps back into the room with a bottle of wine and a tray full of assorted snacks. “What are you doing?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “Your smile is sort of moronic. Or manic. And I don’t know which option is scaring me more.”

“Shut up,” Gwiboon aims a slap at him, but goes back to her phone instantly. She’s not even aware of what she’s writing anymore, except that it’s some sort of a blubbering confession she’s going to regret later when she realizes she sent it. “I’m done in a minute just let the movie roll already.”

She yelps when the phone is yanked from her grip. Jinki looks at the message only for a second, before rolling his eyes theatrically. “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend? Seriously? What is this mushy stuff?” He can’t hold the phone hostage for much longer though, before she manages to regain it.

“You know,” she begins thoughtfully as she hits send, no matter how much she might regret it with a little less wine in her system. “How can you tell if you’re in love? I mean, when does it stop being attraction or infatuation and starts being something more?”

She fully expects mockery for that, but instead gains a soft smile from Jinki, who reaches to fill her glass again. “If you’re thinking that, you’re already too far gone.” He sets the bottle on the table, before taking a long sip of wine. “I want to meet that man. It sounds like he’s going to stick around for long, so it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“We can go out to eat together once,” Gwiboon suggests. Her eyes are sparkling, contentment clear on her features. “Just be prepared for a burger place.” She laughs at Jinki’s mock-scandalized face. “It’s not his fault he can’t afford a five star restaurant. So unless you’re paying, you’re suffering the commonplace food.”

“Well,” Jinki drawls. “I always appreciated a good home cooked meal.” Before Gwiboon can point out that neither of them can cook for shit, he goes on, obviously knowing what she would’ve commented on. “Maybe you can ask him if he can cook?”

That is a slightly terrifying thought, Gwiboon decides. If Minho turns out to be an amazing cook, he’s already pretty much too perfect for a single human being. “I’ll ask him.” She reaches out to squeeze Jinki’s hand shortly. “You’re going to get along amazingly, I promise.” She purses her lips then, into a frown that attempts to be warning. “Just beware, don’t like him too much. He’s mine, I saw him first.”

Jinki laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”






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