Jinwoo opened his eyes.
Minhyuk was looking down at him, smiling drowsily. “You want breakfast?”
Jinwoo nodded, and Minhyuk kissed him on the mouth before sliding out of the bed, pulling on some clothes, and padding into the kitchen.
Jinwoo dozed till the scent of bacon and kimchi fried rice and seaweed soup drifted toward him. He forced himself out of bed, pulled on some clean shorts, and headed into the kitchen.
Minhyuk was at the stove, stirring away industriously, wearing a tank top and shorts beneath his favorite blue apron.
Jinwoo wrapped his arms around Minhyuk’s waist and hooked his chin over Minhyuk’s shoulder, watched him work. He turned and nuzzled Minhyuk’s throat.
“It will be,” Minhyuk said easily.
“Didn’t just mean the food.”
“Ah, hyung.” But Minhyuk was smiling, pleased.
Jinwoo nosed along the collar of Minhyuk’s shirt, then paused. “Is this mine?”
Minhyuk glanced down at himself, shrugged. “I guess it’s mine now. You know how everything in the den belongs to M-hyung? Everything in our room belongs to me.”
“Including my clothes?”
Minhyuk nodded seriously.
“Okay,” Jinwoo said. “But then you belong to me.”
Minhyuk turned to him, eyebrows raised. “How do you figure?”
“Everything in the room is yours. But not the people. The people are mine.”
“So I’m yours but you’re also yours?”
“Well, yes, but I’m giving myself to you, so I’m yours too,” Jinwoo said.
The expression in Minhyuk’s eyes softened, and he leaned in, kissed Jinwoo slow and soft and sweet.
“Hey, don’t do that right next to our breakfast. It’s unhygienic,” Sanha said.
Jinwoo pulled back and sighed.
“What makes you think it’s your breakfast too?” Minhyuk said.
Sanha headed for the fridge. “Because you’re cooking it in our kitchen.”
“Keep your hands off my banana milk,” Minhyuk said.
Sanha made a face but reached for his own stash of strawberry milk. Then he eyed Minhyuk. “Are you wearing Jinwoo-hyung’s tank top?”
Minhyuk shrugged one bare shoulder. “Probably. But it’s also mine.”
Sanha snorted. “You’re like an old married couple already.”
Jinwoo smiled. He liked the sound of that.
The others drifted into the den, and Jinwoo reluctantly separated himself from Minhyuk so he could help set the table.
By the time Minhyuk finished cooking, everyone was gathered around the low table. He dished up the food and set it in the middle of the table and then sat beside Jinwoo.
There was a dull, sort of sleepy chorus of thank you for the food before everyone dug in.
“I see you finally got your tank top back,” Myungjun said.
Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”
Myungjun gestured to Minhyuk with his chopsticks. “That tank top. You bought it last year but then Jinwoo started wearing it. I mean, I used to wear it back when it was mine, but I remember these things. I always know who originally owned which stuff.”
Minhyuk looked down at himself.
Jinwoo looked at him too.
“It’s true, though,” Bin said slowly. “M-hyung does always know who stuff really belongs to.”
“If it’s in the den, it’s mine,” Myungjun said airily, which was his sort of passive-aggressive way of getting everyone else to at least keep their stuff in their own rooms.
Dongmin laughed. “You two have been wearing each other’s clothes for so long that you don’t even know whose is really whose. You know Jinwoo originally bought that Joy Division shirt you always wear when you dance. You don’t even like Joy Division.”
“It’s all right,” Minhyuk hedged, because Jinwoo liked them a lot.
“You don’t have to pretend for me,” Jinwoo said, nudging Minhyuk’s shoulder with his.
“It’s a really comfy shirt,” Minhyuk protested.
Sanha shook his head. “You two really are like an old married couple.”
“As long as you don’t start sharing underwear,” Bin grumbled.
Minhyuk said, perfectly straight-faced, “I really only care about Jinwoo-hyung’s underwear when I’m taking it off of him.”
“Yah!” Myungjun flicked some rice at him.
The others groaned, but Jinwoo just laughed, and when he leaned in to kiss Minhyuk, the others politely averted their gazes.
Minhyuk kissed him back, brief but warm, and then they all turned their attention to their meal, and the day’s schedules.
Jinwoo thought of the ring he’d been keeping in his sock drawer, the one place Minhyuk didn’t borrow clothes from, and figured if they had the old part already, they ought to have the married part too. He’d find a day, when it was just the two of them, and ask the question properly. Till then, he’d wear their clothes and do his best to keep Minhyuk happy.