#2min breaking half the puzzles but still getting out first is so 2min of them

[linoyes]

lee know in every skz code - ep 31-32

[hwarang-number]

Dream Girl: Jonghyun/Minho Oneshot

Pairing: Jongho

Rating: T

Word Count: 3400

Summary: Jonghyun gets matched up with his dream girl through a dating app and arrives at the rendezvous to find Minho there for the same reason. Inspired by this Dean Martin/Frank Sinatra skit, as well as that one amazing Tumblr post of shirtless Jonghyun with a caption about his “stupid little bitch waist” (which I, naturally, have not been able to locate since.)

I really wanted to post this whole thing for New Year’s but I didn’t have time to knock out the entire (somewhat lengthy) epilogue, so that’s forthcoming, and I’ll cross-post to AO3 at that time. This part works as a stand-alone fic, though.

Dedicated to the beautiful @wysteryas, who inspired me to try my hand at SHINee fic. 2min is my OTP but Jongho is my kryptonite, apparently. They make me so ridiculously happy.

***

When Jonghyun spots the man sitting on his designated bench, his entire body jolts in stark dismay. If his dream girl really is coming here tonight, she won’t even see him with this guy in her line of vision. In fact, she’ll probably assume that said guy was her dream man to begin with and head off to happily-ever-after on his arm.

He looks up hopefully at Jonghyun's approach and oh hell yes, this is a dream man in-waiting. Huge, stunning double-lidded dark eyes, luminous olive skin, tousled silky black hair, long lean legs crossed at the ankle – and dressed to kill.

Sodam had approved every inch of her little brother, from his earrings to his boxer-briefs (sexy ones, Jonghyun-ah, just in case!), before shoving him toward the door with a giddy laugh, but if she’d seen this guy, she’d have promptly pulled Jonghyun back inside again and cancelled his membership with the dating app for good measure.

The man wears a black leather jacket, slim-cut and perfectly contoured to his torso, with a gray knit scarf knotted artfully at his throat and dark blue jeans cuffed above black lace-up boots. The cuffs of a dusky blue sweater peek out from the ends of his sleeves, and he wears one wide silver band on his left thumb.

Jonghyun wears rings too – just a few tonight, nothing ridiculous – and had always thought it kind of worked for him, but this man owns the thumb ring look.

Fuck, even his hands are beautiful. Long, strong, and exquisitely shaped, all the way to his fingertips.

The man is three kinds of gorgeous and he's just sitting there like a handsome piece of statuary, regarding Jonghyun curiously.

“– help you?” he’s saying, and it’s really, truly over now, because his voice is deep. Not corny American hey baby deep but hushed and soft and warm. The kind of voice that raises the hairs on the back of your neck in a really pleasant way.

Jonghyun is so fucked he could cry.

"Um," he begins brilliantly. "I’m sorry, but – could you maybe move to another bench for just a little? It's just, I'm supposed to meet someone – oh fuck –“ He breaks off at a telltale burning in his eyes and brings his fists to them before he remembers his eyeliner: a subtle, smoky border, painstakingly applied by Sodam because his hands were shaking too badly.

"Hey, easy,” the man soothes in the gentlest voice Jonghyun’s ever heard. “It's okay. I’d happily move to another bench,” he says, “but as it happens, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here too.”

Jonghyun peeks at him between his fingers, rendered speechless by disbelief, and the man’s breath catches.

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” he blurts, startling them both. “Actually, um…for half a second I thought you might be – who’re you meeting?” he asks suddenly.

Conceding defeat, Jonghyun drops his hands from his face and himself onto the bench beside the man. “A girl,” he says wearily. “I signed up on one of those dating apps – the, uh, ‘compatibility-guaranteed’ one,” he adds in an abashed mumble, “and I’m supposed to meet my dream girl here tonight.”

“Hey, me too!” the man says eagerly, turning to Jonghyun, his mouth curved in a smile so dazzling that Jonghyun’s heart does a startled little flip on its way to the pit of his stomach. “Tell me what yours looks like and we can keep an eye out for each other.”

Jonghyun sighs, wishing more than anything to forestall the inevitable: that awkward moment when the man realizes that they’re both here for the same girl and makes some weak attempt to convince sad, small Jonghyun that he actually has a chance with her.

Half a month’s rent went into this disaster, and for what?

“Legs for miles,” Jonghyun croaks, his cheeks burning. “At least, that’s the description they gave me. ‘Legs for miles, a small face, and…very big eyes,’ ” he finishes lamely.

The man grins. “It’s the eyes that get me too,” he confesses.

They all say that, Jonghyun scowls to himself. “And legs for miles?” he wonders dryly.

“Nah, I’ve got legs enough for the both of us,” the man laughs. “I’m waiting on a ‘small, shapely blonde with eyes to drown in.’”

Jonghyun’s sigh of relief comes out like a moan and he claps a hand over his mouth in horror. “I just – I’m really glad you said that,” he says quickly, stupidly, causing the man to raise the inner edges of his eyebrows in a captivating expression.

“Because…?” he puzzles aloud, then – “Oh. You thought we were expecting the same girl?”

“Maybe,” Jonghyun hedges, not quite meeting the man’s eyes, and he shakes his head with a strange half-smile.

“We have very different types,” he says simply.

“Ah, that’s good,” Jonghyun replies, and in the ensuing silence, reassesses his appearance for the umpteenth time this evening.

Sodam snuck the insoles out of his shoes while he was brushing his teeth. If she’s really your dream girl, she’s not going to care about a few centimeters, she insisted when he realized the absence, halfway out the door. Just be you, Jonghyun-ah. You want her to love you as you are, and she will – she’ll take one look at you and never want to leave your side.

He absently toys with one cuff of his impossibly soft sweater: a cream-colored turtleneck, pure cashmere and wildly beyond his budget. A gift from Sodam expressly for tonight, stored in a box of lavender and allspice berries for the past week for ultimate romantic appeal. If she can resist wrapping herself around you, she’s not worth having, she declared after an appraising nuzzle of his shoulder. You’re like hugging a basketful of sleepy kittens.

“You smell really good,” the man remarks, and Jonghyun glances over with a small, gratified smile.

“You too,” he realizes. The man smells subtly, headily of musk and cloves, and Jonghyun wishes he could justify leaning over for a deeper sniff – or simply asking what it is – but maybe a man that attractive just naturally smells that good, and how awkward would it be to come up with a response to Nothing – I guess it’s just me?

“Oh good,” the man replies, visibly relaxing against the back of the bench. “I had soccer practice earlier. I showered afterward but you still worry, you know?”

Of course he’s an athlete, on top of everything else. “Couldn’t get out of it?” Jonghyun asks dryly, never mind the man really doesn’t deserve it. “Not even for your dream girl?”

“I’m the team captain,” the man chuckles, either unbothered by or oblivious to Jonghyun’s sarcasm. “I don’t let them out of practice for anything short of death, so I could hardly do it myself.”

Jonghyun smiles in reply, a more genuine expression than he intended, and directs his gaze along the lamplit sidewalk – conspicuously empty at such a prime walking hour. His nerves jangle with whispers of not coming and stood up, and he turns back almost gratefully at the man’s question:

“Where are you taking her?”

“Um…well, it’s late enough that she might have eaten already,” he says. “So I thought: coffee and macarons at this café I really love, then there’s a quiet little jazz club where a friend and I perform sometimes – uh, he plays piano, I sing,” he explains, earning an impressed eyebrow-raise from the other man. “It’s pretty casual but there’s dancing, if she wants, and decent appetizers if she’s hungry.”

Snore, he reflects miserably, and applauds himself for leaving out the bit about the open-late bookstore next door to the café and the poetry books he conveniently arranged there on his way over, just in case they happen to stop in. Not to mention the fact that Taemin performing tonight is getting them free admission to the club and a customized playlist, as it were.

Flag me down if it’s going well – or not – and you can step in and sing to her, hyung, his impish friend had urged. I guarantee you won’t make it home in one piece – if you make it home at all.

“Sounds perfect,” the man says, “romantic as hell,” and Jonghyun looks up at him in surprise, narrowly biting back a gape. Without warning, the man brushes a hand across Jonghyun’s sleeve and a shiver – not altogether unpleasant – runs the length of his spine in response. “You’re even dressed for cuddling,” he remarks with a smile.

“And what are you dressed for?” Jonghyun deflects, his cheeks burning.

“Art gallery,” the man replies. “I know, sounds pretentious, but I’m really into photography, and there’s a cool exhibit on right now. There’s a great black bean noodle place just a few blocks away from the gallery, and I thought we could wrap up with a walk around the park after and maybe…some hand-holding to finish,” he volunteers, somewhat sheepishly, as though he feels he owes Jonghyun something after the cuddling comment.

“Nice,” Jonghyun declares, and means it.

“Oh good,” the man says, visibly relieved, as though Jonghyun’s approval carries some strange weight. “So, um…you’d be happy with a first date like that?”

Jonghyun frowns slightly at the question but the man’s earnest expression seems to crave reassurance, nothing more. “Yeah – especially the hand-holding,” he adds cheekily. “Skinship’s kind of my thing.”

“Hence the cuddling,” the man responds in kind, lips curving beautifully, and a companionable silence falls between them.

“How many kids do you want to have?” Jonghyun asks abruptly, and the man turns toward him with a start.

“Come again?” he croaks, brows halfway to his hairline.

“While we’re waiting, I thought it might be good to practice a little,” Jonghyun explains, his blush returning in full force. “Conversation, I mean – for our dates.”

The man’s shock softens but he continues to eye Jonghyun curiously. “And that’s your opener?” he wonders wryly.

“No, but it’s kind of a biggie for me,” Jonghyun replies. “So I wanna make sure I get it out.”

“Ah, I hear you,” the man says with perfect understanding. “It’s the same for me, to be honest. I love kids, so it’s something I want to make sure we have in common. I’m the youngest of two, so…three?” he ventures.

“Hey, me too!” Jonghyun exclaims. “I’m the youngest of two, and I want three kids – at least a couple of girls,” he adds shyly. “I’ve got a little girl dog now, so I’m sort of practicing up.”

The man smiles, warm and wistful. “Ah, lucky. I love dogs, but I’ve always been too busy to get one of my own.”

“Maybe I can bring Roo here sometime,” Jonghyun offers, without quite knowing why. “If you live nearby, I mean, and you could play with her for a little. Dog-time is a must for quality of life.”

“I’d like that,” the man says softly.

Jonghyun lets his head fall back, gazing up through the city-glow in search of stars beyond. It’s a beautiful night, crisp and clear, and the man beside him is surprisingly good company to help pass the time until –

He shakes his head to clear it, having momentarily forgotten the express purpose for his – their – presence here tonight, and frowns thoughtfully at his companion for a long moment before asking the question he really doesn’t want the answer to:

“Just exactly how tall are you?”

The man chuckles, as though he’d expected this eventually. “184 centimeters,” he replies.

Well, fuck. “With or without insoles?” Jonghyun needles, and the man grins brilliantly.

“I can reach down things from the top shelf of my kitchen cupboards, barefoot and flat-footed,” he declares with a sort of mock-triumph.

Fucking beanpole, Jonghyun thinks, glaring at those endlessly long legs. As if being tall is some sort of accomplishment. “I need a step-stool to reach on top of my fridge,” he grumbles. “Wanna come over sometime and clean my ceiling fan?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” the man banters back playfully.

Jonghyun wonders if it would be weird to ask the guy for his number. He probably isn’t serious about cleaning the fan, but Jonghyun genuinely wants him to meet Roo. He’s a really nice guy, interesting and easy to talk to; maybe they could even grab coffee or black bean noodles sometime.

If nothing else, maybe they’ll both get a friend out of this whole dating fiasco.

Jonghyun suddenly realizes that he hasn’t looked at his phone since he sat down and pulls the device from his pocket with a small panicked sound. It’s almost twenty minutes past the appointed meeting time, and there’s no push notification indicating that his girl checked in as “running late” or anything like that.

He frowns at the screen.

“Are you getting late for a reservation?” the man asks.

“No, I didn’t make any,” Jonghyun says, pocketing his phone again with a slowly sinking heart. “And everywhere we were going is pretty low-key, so…” He trails off. No use pretending, really. “It’s too late even to be fashionable, don’t you think?” he asks the other man without looking up, not really seeking an answer, so he doesn’t notice when none comes.

Honestly, he’s not surprised. Thousands and thousands of won – half a month’s rent – and ‘compatibility guaranteed’? He should’ve known it was too good to be true.

Hell, he should’ve known it was a crock when they revealed that his dream girl had ‘legs for miles’ – as if someone like that would even look at Jonghyun twice, let alone fall in love with him.

Or maybe there really had been a girl, he thinks bitterly, but she took one look at me and ran off before I could spot her.

How the hell is he going to tell Sodam?

He stretches his lips into a weak but resolute smile and turns to his companion. “I should’ve known I’d get stood up, but you –”

The rest of his sentence falls away at the expression on the man’s face. He’s staring down at Jonghyun with a gaze to sear your soul, lips parted slightly in small, shallow breaths.

“I don’t think we got stood up,” he says quietly.

“You think your girl’s still coming?” Jonghyun asks.

It’s a fair assumption, really. He’s the sort of guy girls would kill to date – sweet, tall, fit, sexy as hell – definitely not the kind of man you stand up. His dream girl is probably cursing her shoes and running through the park in a drama-worthy montage at this very moment.

The man presses his lips together and looks away. “I think she got here a while ago,” he says, his voice strangely rough.

Jonghyun clears his throat, wondering why his breath is quickening too, and why it’s suddenly easier to inhale with the man’s eyes averted. “You…you think she saw you were with someone,” he puzzles, “and, what: she’s waiting for me to leave?”

“No, I…” The man hesitates, rubbing his palms on his jeans and biting his lips together, as though he’s struggling with what to say or how to say it, then suddenly his eyes are locked with Jonghyun’s and Jonghyun thinks he may never actually breathe again.

“I think you’re my dream girl,” the man whispers.

Jonghyun’s heart catapults into his throat. “I’m not a girl,” he says faintly.

“I know,” the man assures him, looking as apologetic as he does impassioned. “It’s just…every time you’ve managed to look at me,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, “I’ve found myself drowning in your eyes.”

The heart in Jonghyun’s throat flails like a small wild creature, caught fast in a trap.

“You – you’re small and blond,” the man points out softly, “and I was thinking – wondering – if maybe…” He trails off, eyeing Jonghyun – specifically, Jonghyun’s body – with hopeful hesitance, and Jonghyun looks away quickly, knowing what the man is referring to, or rather guessing at.

“I, um…” he fumbles. “It’s just…my waist is kind of small for a –”

He breaks off with a sharp inhale as the man brings a hand to his waistline and closes warm fingers gently around the deep, almost feminine indent. The touch sends a strange, gorgeous heat straight to Jonghyun’s groin.

“Daebak,” the man breathes.

“I like art galleries,” Jonghyun whispers over the clamor of his frenzied heart, deliberately looking everywhere but at the man. “And black bean noodles, and hand-holding in the park.”

“I like coffee and cuddling – and cashmere,” the man murmurs, cautiously curling his fingertips in the material of Jonghyun’s sweater. “And in case it’s escaped your notice in all this time you’ve refused to look at me,” he adds, so lightly: “I just happen to have legs for miles, a small face, and very big eyes.”

Jonghyun fights it, he truly does. But suddenly he’s on his knees on the bench with the man’s face in his hands, kissing each large, exquisite eye closed with desperate presses of his lips.

They’re almost amber close-up, he discovers. Soft black lashes, wide swollen pupils drinking Jonghyun in –

He pulls back with a whimper of distress and veritably leaps off the bench. He just kissed – well, not kissed, but kissed part of – a man. A breathtakingly beautiful man – the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, hands down – but a man just the same. A man who paid a boatload of money to get matched up with his dream date and has been calmly waiting for a petite curvy blonde girl, not small stunted Kim Jonghyun with his stupid little bitch waist –

He turns to bolt, eyes burning, and a large hand closes around his wrist.

"Hey, easy; it’s okay,” soothes the gentlest voice Jonghyun’s ever heard, for the second time that night, and he feels the man come up behind him. Strong arms slip hesitantly around his stupid little bitch waist, making him gasp, and the warm weight of a cheek – or chin? – settles on the top of his head.

Jonghyun’s mind is torn between Fuck, how tall is he? and Fuck, how does this feel so good?

“I’m sorry,” the man murmurs. “I-I’ve never done…this, and I’m sure I’m doing it wrong. I just…I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either,” Jonghyun confesses in a whisper, and the arms snug about his waist with a stifled moan against his scalp. His nipples tighten at the combination of sensations and he arches back slightly with a whimper.

“God, you feel so good in my arms,” the man groans.

Jonghyun’s not sure which of them initiates the turn, but suddenly they’re standing face-to-face and –

“You’re so beautiful,” they both say at once, voices hushed and yearning, and the man starts a little at the statement, as though he’s only just realized that Jonghyun is as overcome and in love as he is.

“You were my dream girl the moment you walked up,” he says softly, taking Jonghyun’s face in his hands. His fingertips drift gently through Jonghyun’s moon-pale dandelion down hair as his thumbs trace Jonghyun’s sharp cheekbones. “I thought you actually were her for a moment,” he reveals. “Except you weren’t a her, and then I realized that…maybe that didn’t really matter,” he concludes with a tender smile.

His legs end somewhere around Jonghyun’s waistline, and Jonghyun stares up-up-up into the most stunning eyes he’s ever seen. He never thought for a second that this was a girl of any kind, but somehow he’s everything Jonghyun wanted when he came here tonight, minus the damn Adam’s apple that some idiot placed at the level of his lips.

It’s handsome, as Adam’s apples go, and it bobs in a gulp as the man flounders under the intensity of Jonghyun’s silence.

“Please say something,” he whispers, dropping his hands to Jonghyun’s shoulders in a more socially acceptable pose.

Impossibly, his breath smells of jasmine and Jonghyun whimpers as his cock thrums in response. He’s lost in dark eyes and endless limbs and warm olive skin that seeps musk and cloves, trembling with the urge to kiss and nuzzle and burrow and bury himself in this utterly breathtaking person.

“Why aren’t you a girl?” he whispers.

“If you don’t know the answer to that,” the man says lightly, “then it shouldn’t make any difference, right?”

It’s a joke, but neither of them is laughing as the man draws Jonghyun deep into his arms and cradles him to a racing heart. “Let’s try this again,” he murmurs raggedly. “I’m Minho. What are you doing for the rest of your life?”