#an extra fangy chair

[angelic-kisses13]

Antillia

Authors Note: I’m so sorry its a day late but its here now and I hope you enjoy! All characters are mine (except Henry Cavill) and so is the story line. Please do not repost this on other sites. Reblogs and comments are always welcome. 

Warnings: Gore, swearing, mentions a blowjob, Violence, very minor character death

Blood covered Henry’s hands as he worked to skin the flesh from the man’s leg, he was focused on not cutting the black ink that swirled across the man’s knee and down his inner thigh. It was the first piece of the map and he couldn’t be more thrilled to finally have it in his hands, even if it was in less traditional means. 

The sound of the dying man echoed around Henry as he continued flaying the man’s skin. It was a sickening yet oddly satisfying feeling to possess and control the blade to cut away muscle and fatty tissue. He had managed to swindle the man into coming into one of the caves of the town they were currently staying in.

He just had to pay one of the wenches a few extra coins and lure the man into his waiting arms, the plan was foolproof. Henry had camped out in the cave for a few hours, making sure that everything was set up correctly. He had just finished setting up the campfire so he could see to make the incisions when he heard footsteps echo through the cave. He waited with bated breath as the voices and footsteps grew closer. 

The poor Pirate was so wasted he couldn’t figure out how to stand up on his own, let alone figure out who had desecrated his body with the crude jagged cuts from his dagger. Unfortunately, that also meant that the moment the wench let the old drunkard go, he was falling headfirst into a pile of rocks in front of him. His head connecting with the limestone with a resounding whack and a soft grunt of pain. Henry and the wench had stood in shock for a few moments before the wench made a hasty retreat, her skirts billowing out behind her as she raced back through the cave, her voice bouncing off the walls, a prayer falling from her lips in her wake. 

Henry had stalked closer and upon pushing the man onto his back he had noticed the deep indentation on the man’s temple, thick blood blooming across his face in rivulets. He simply shook his head at the sight, what a waste of a Pirate.

Henry held his breath as the stink of the man wafted through the air, how the wench had stood to be around him was a wonder. He stripped the man down and began cutting, just as he made the first wound, the drunkard moaned in pain. Henry glanced up to see the man still breathing, though the airway was severely blocked by the blood seeping into his gasping mouth, effectively choking him to death. Though it was going to be a few moments before that happened, Henry quickly got to work. He didn’t want to be here any longer than he needed. 

Hopefully, if the body was discovered the townsmen would think the Voodoo Witches had used his body for a ritual. It wouldn’t be the first time a Pirates body had been found missing some teeth and limbs. Successfully, pulling the piece of flesh off the man’s knee with a body shuddering shlick, he held the skin up in the light of his fire. The flames danced behind it, illuminating the words and landmarks etched on the skin. 

He scowled as the illuminated words weren’t words but lines with triangles in varying positions. How the hell was he supposed to find this sacred treasure if he couldn’t read it? He growled and kicked the corpse at his feet in anger. This was a waste of time, he knew there would be a trick to it, there always was. 

He had promised his crew a map and while he didn’t have all of it the part he did have, the very fucking first part wasn’t even legible to him. It was all nonsense, every last line. He took a deep breath as he grabbed a cloth rag from his pocket and wrapped it around the piece of flesh, it wouldn’t do him any good looking at it here. Maybe all he needed was a new set of eyes, who knows, maybe one of his men could read the odd pictures. Or at least make out what landmark it was directing them to. 

He walked over to his makeshift fire and quickly kicked some of the dirt onto it, snuffing the flames out before shouldering the wall, his fingers memorizing the nooks and grooves that would lead him out. He left the body behind, no need to attempt to hide it, the animals and witches would be lead right to it for him. 

                                                        =

An hour later, saw Henry walking towards the town’s brothel, his head down deep in thought, a number of ladies called out to him, wanting to be the lucky girl to grace his bed for the night. He was the infamous Henry “Rancor” Cavill, Captain of the Lex Talionis for the last two decades. He had managed to overthrow his captain after working for him for three months. The man was soft and unfit for ruling the seas the way they were meant to. They were Pirates, they were here to plunder and take, killing everyone who stood in their way, within reason of course. You didn’t want to kill just to get tally marks on your forearms, though some did do that. 

He walked onto the dock, his boots thudding against the logs as he neared his ship, the sounds of the waves lapping against the sides of the ships was enough to unwind his shoulders and his neck to crack. He walked up the steps and was greeted by his ship hand, the young man was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his eyes sparkling as he waited for Henry to give him an order. He was one of the newest additions to the crew, but he held great potential to become a legendary Captain. 

“Go and grab Rais for me, I have something that will interest him.” 

“Yes, Captain!” Henry watched as the man scampered off, gliding in and out of swaying Pirates and dodging flying rum bottles. His crew was awfully rambunctious tonight. A warm smile touched his lips as he turned towards his cabin, as he walked in he took off his black trench coat, the gold buttons jingling together as he placed it on the back of his chair, his sword was taken off next, and placed to his left, the hilt resting against his thigh as he took a seat at his desk. 

He grabbed the wrapped flesh from his jacket pocket and placed it down on the desktop. Some of the blood had seeped through the white rag and Henry pulled the soiled cloth away from the jagged flesh. He frowned as he looked at it, it appeared that the landmarks and writing were from a different time. Frustration built up in Henry’s body, his eyes closing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It was always like this, no matter how close he had come to find the treasure that he had been seeking since he was a child, he was always three steps behind. 

His quarters were disturbed and he stood to his feet, sword out in front him, eyes feral as he sized up his opponent. His arm fell, the sword cutting through the air as Rais watched him with wide eyes. 

“My, someone is quick to anger tonight. You not get your rocks off with one of the whores?” Henry sighed at the man’s crude words, though he did have to stop and wonder if getting a wench to suck him off would have done something to ease his frustrations. 

“Rais, I finally found it!” His words were quick and to the point. Rais stood in silence, face blank as he processed Henry’s words. 

“It? The It, It?” Henry snorted as he motioned for Rais to walk closer, the man quickly moved forward, his hands landing on the desk as he peered over the cloth and flesh in between them. 

“Holy shit. You really found it! Henry, you found it!” Rais’s voice grew with each sentence uttered, the unmasked glee and hope on his face, sent Henry through the roof. This was the first step, all he needed to do was find the other three pieces and he would be on his way to the treasure of dreams. 

“I’ve found it, but Rais I can’t make heads nor tails of the words and landmarks. This isn’t part of the ocean I’ve traversed.” Rais hummed as he moved the map closer to him and looked it over. 

“The writing is different, not something I have seen before.” Henry nodded his head in agreement, 

“I was hoping you would know someone who could read it. Someone obviously doesn’t want people finding this treasure.” 

“I might know someone but its close to a month’s journey.” 

“That’s fine, we need to get someone who can read this, I’m not about to let this opportunity slip through my fingers a second time, Rais.” Henry’s eyes had darkened as he voiced his displeasure. 

“Aye, Henry, it won’t escape you again. We will get that treasure and no-one will be able to stop us.” Henry shared a fangy smile with Rais as they bundled the map back up and moved towards the mast of the ship, they had a crew to sober up.

Taglist: @agniavateira @cavillanche @cavillunraveled @dancingwendigo @dreamwritesimagines @ficsandcatsandficsandcats @hlkwrites @hnryycvll @honeychicanawrites @iloveyouyen @johnmotherfuckingshelby @ladyreapermc @laketaj24 @littlefreya @ly--canthrope @mary-ann84 @mrsaugustwalker @ohvalleyofplentyyy @omgkatinka @sciapod @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @supersweetstache @thethirstyarchive @the-winter-witcher @thegreattodd @titty-teetee @tumblnewby @viking-raider​ @wednesdaybraids @white-wolf-of-rivia @witcherwrites 

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; A Year of Sunsets (Part 4/5); PG

He wishes his first encounter with a shapeshifter wasn’t while he was half awake and half fucking terrified of being eaten in the dead of night. He’s certain that he wouldn’t be nearly this freaked out if he didn’t take a nap by accident. The disorientation is fucking with him. Maybe he can kinda… just….

“Hey,” he calls out softly towards the bushes.

ao3

1-2-3-4-5

Taemin is just getting ready to head out to the upper east side of the lake to paint a sunset from a different angle when he hears the wolves start howling. It makes him pause as he’s tugging his backpack over his shoulders. He glances up at the sky, at where the sun is still at least an hour from setting and the faded shadow of moon that he can see isn’t even close to full. He kind of wants to take a snap of this to send to Kibum to prove that all of his old wolf clichés are untrue, but he doesn’t want to get it out of his backpack. He shrugs after a moment, fitting his easel and canvas more securely under his arm and locking his door behind him.

When he reaches the shore of the lake, he pauses again. He was going to head north and east, but he remembers Jonghyun saying that the wolves all lived more northwest instead. He glances quickly each way before heading left. If he’s going to be out here while they’re singing, he wants to be closer to them.

Thankfully, when he reaches the corner of the lake he finds that someone’s set up some comfy looking camp chairs up on the shore. Probably that other neighbor Jonghyun told him about one time that’s always fishing over here and likes to keep to themself even more than Taemin does. They’re not here right now to yell at Taemin, so he sits himself down all snug and comfortable and sets up his easel in the sand.

It’s at least half an hour before the sun will be low enough for him to guesstimate the general tone of his painting; half an hour in which he sits back, relaxes, watches the soft waves shift over the shore, and attempts to send a snap video of the forest and the wolves singing to Kibum before he gives up and resolves to send it when he gets back home where he actually has service.

He has no idea how it happens, but somehow he fades from closing his eyes and enjoying the wind ruffling through his hair to snapping his eyes open half a second before he falls out of his chair into the sand.

He groans, curling into a little ball before struggling to push himself up to his knees. What the fuck. He wasn’t even tired. He doesn’t deserve this. He squeezes his eyes shut to rub accidental sleep out of them, then opens them to darkness. He frowns, confused, closes them again and reopens them, panics because he can’t see anything, and then understands.

It’s a little bit too late for him to paint his sunset tonight, he thinks. He turns to squint at the sky. At least the moon and the stars give him a tiny bit of light, once his eyes adjust. He feels up his pockets for his phone, and when he taps the flashlight app, he winces at how fucking bright it is. He knew he should've spent the extra few minutes looking for that one fancy flashlight app he used to have with all of the different settings when he switched phones last year. He shines it over the grainy pebbles of the shore until he finds his bag. Then he fumbles for the zipper and shoves his arm in there until he finds the big flashlight Jonghyun gave him.

That light is even brighter, and he groans again when he flicks both on. His phone tells him that it’s almost midnight before he puts it back into his pocket and he sighs. He really fucked up. He’s gonna have to paint two things tomorrow and his sleep schedule is going to be so off and--and he jumps when his light shines through the trees for a second and illuminates two bright circles low to the ground.

“Frick,” he whispers as the shadow connected to those eyes darts away with a rustle into the bushes. It’s a soft, quiet noise, but it’s still heavy, the only sound other than the slow wind through the trees and soft splishes of the lake. The wolves have stopped their howling and it’s almost eerie how loud the silence is now without them. Taemin reaches for his bag without taking his eyes off of the place where the eyes disappeared, jumpy and paranoid to be out here in the middle of the night. He tries to think of what it could have been; bunnies or deer or whatever other skittish creatures would be no problem, but if it was a predator….

He tries to think back to what Jonghyun told him about the forest a few weeks ago. He’s sure he mentioned something on whether or not the wolves were the only predators around here, but he can’t for the life of him remember. Still, though. He feels like a big cat of some sort wouldn’t attack him if he was aware and he feels like a bear would be considerably larger than the eyes he saw. He’s probably fine. He tells himself this, over and over, as he quickly gathers up his easel and canvas and shines his light up the shore to find the path. He still shivers under his sweater from the uneasy chill that raises goosebumps over his skin.

As he’s trudging back up to the little dirt road, another rustle comes from the bushes and he flinches. This time he catches a bushy tail flicking out of the beam of his light. He breathes a tiny fraction easier. That was definitely a wolf tail. Fuck. He wishes his first encounter with a shapeshifter wasn’t while he was half awake and half fucking terrified of being eaten in the dead of night. He’s certain that he wouldn’t be nearly this freaked out if he didn’t take a fucking nap by accident. The disorientation is fucking with him. Maybe he can kinda… just….

“Hey,” he calls out softly towards the bushes. “Um. If you’re, like, friendly, or like--not going to eat me, can you just. Bark. Twice. Or something. In the gentlest way possible. Please. I mean, I know you’re not, but I’m just--I’m really anxious right now and--”

A soft, soft, soft, gentle whuff cuts him off. Two whuffs. Taemin has never been more happy to hear a dog noise in his life. He’s still jumpy, but the reassurance lets him relax enough to take a deep breath and start walking again. This isn’t the end of the world. He knew, before he moved here, that something like this was going to happen eventually. Getting lost in the woods at night was practically inevitable. He’s not even lost; he’s just out way too late. It’s about a half hour walk back home. He’s not looking forward to it at all, but it’s not like he can just fall asleep in the dirt all night.

“Okay, Tae, you can do this,” he tells himself. “You’re not gonna be brutally murdered in the woods in the middle of the night.” He holds his easel to his chest and squints across the lake to see if he can see the glow of the porch light that he left on. He can’t. “You’re a feelgood comedy, not a murder thriller,” he sighs. “You’re gonna keep walking and get home and fall asleep in your nice warm bed and keep loving your wonderful life and--”

Another rustle from the bushes cuts his reassurances off. He glances at the trees to his right with a wince. Fuck. The wolf is still following him.

“Stop talking to yourself,” he snaps at himself. “They’re gonna think you’re fucking weird--fuck.” He closes his eyes for a moment to grimace at the sky. How can he make such a bad first impression all by himself like this? “Please don’t think I’m weird,” he whines at the forest. This probably isn’t helping him. “I’m Taemin,” he says in the general direction of where he thinks the wolf is. “I moved into the forest like half a year ago? And I paint sunsets to sell on the internet.”

He doesn’t really know why he’s introducing himself to a random wolf that was apparently spying on him while he slept. Probably because it makes it easier to keep walking. He hopes they’re still following him and listening to him speak. Pretending that they’re escorting him back to his house with their fangy protection makes it easier to keep walking too.

“I’m friends with Jonghyun,” he offers to the trees. “I don’t know if you know him--he lives by me and goes out camping a lot and he says he’s seen you guys chilling around out there.” He’s sure that if Jonghyun has seen the wolves then he wolves have seen him. That just makes sense. “He’s pretty cool,” he mumbles. He stumbles on a rock in the path and scrunches his face as he bravely takes bigger steps to act like he didn’t. Then he scrunches his face for a different reason. “I mean, when I say he’s my friend, I mean. I hope he’s my friend,” he says. He doesn’t know how Jonghyun feels. Maybe he’s just a nice neighbor to Jonghyun and they’re not friends yet in his book.

“I fucking… jerked him off a few months ago, I better be his friend,” he mutters. He has to be, honestly. You don’t jerk someone off in the middle of a blizzard and not be friends after that. “Anyway,” he says quickly, shaking his head and glancing to his side. He can still vaguely see the wolfy shape silently following him through the trees. That’s nice. He hasn’t driven them off and he hasn’t been left alone. “Jonghyun told me you were all rad and nice,” he tells the wolf. “And I hear y’all howling a lot. It’s really pretty.” He hopes he’s making a good impression with all of this rambling flattery. He wants this one wolf to like him and to bring back a good story of him to all of their wolf friends.

He’s getting closer to his house, he thinks; if he shines his light right, he can see the fork in the road between the curve of the lake and the path back to his place. He should start driving out to his paint locations, honestly, if they’re gonna take him this long to get back. If he’s feeling tired before he leaves he definitely will so something like this doesn’t happen again.

He makes himself walk the rest of the way in silence, holding his flashlight tightly and glancing into the trees every so often to make sure the wolf hasn’t left him alone. He’s not exactly at ease with them there following him from the shadows, but he knows he would be even more anxious if they weren’t. He likes the feeling of safety the company gives him. At least now if he does get brutally murdered by a serial killer or something then someone will know what happened to him. He hopes whichever wolf this is wouldn’t mind taking a day or two as a human to fill out some paperwork for his death.

“Okay, Tae, stop fucking thinking about death,” he mutters to himself. That shit isn’t going to help at all. He needs to just. Think about getting home and getting a snack and going to sleep in his very warm, very comfy, very safe bed. Yes.

Eventually, the dim glow of his porch light becomes visible down the path. He breathes a soft sigh of relief at the visual confirmation, hikes his bag more over his shoulders, and walks a little faster. Behind his house, he can see a faint plume of chimney smoke curling up from Jonghyun’s and tsks. Shit. He probably could have just texted him and asked for a ride, since he’s apparently still up so late. Bluh. Whatever. At least now he’ll know that for next time.

As he approaches his house and the wide clearing in front of it, he notices the silence of the forest soften just slightly. He stops in the middle of the road in front of his front porch to glance back at the trees. Oh. Right. The wolf probably isn’t going to just prance into plain sight after spending so long hiding. He steps tiredly the rest of the way up to his front door and wiggles his hand into his pocket for his keys.

Pushing the front door in and dropping his bag just inside, he takes a moment before going in himself to lean up on the wall and squint out at the trees. He doesn’t see--no, he does. The faintest movement in the low bushes and two big eyes peeping at him from the leaves. He smiles to see them still there.

“Thank you,” he calls softly. He hesitates, frowns at his low volume, but shakes himself of the doubt. Wolves have good hearing. He doesn’t need to repeat himself. “It was nice to meet you,” he adds, and then, for lack of any better ideas, “Good night.”

One quiet, soft, friendly whuff answers him before the eyes disappear and he hears the wolf rustling away through the leaves.

~

Taemin puffs his lips up as he stands behind his back door, rocking on his toes as he debates on whether or not to go outside yet. Guh. This is so stressful. He never should have asked Jonghyun to come over last night. He doesn’t need help figuring out his garden structure. He’s pretty sure that he could have muddled through it on his own. He doesn’t need Jonghyun to come figure it out with him and he doesn’t need to be having a mini panic attack before noon.

He just. Doesn’t know if sitting outside and watching Jonghyun walk all the way up through the woods and too him would be more awkward than waiting for him to knock and opening the door. He doesn’t know which one would be worse and he hates it. He opens and closes his hands into little fists at his sides as he argues with himself for the fifth minute straight.

Bluh. Bluh bluh bluh. He’s just. He’s just gonna go out there. He’s just going to go out there and set up all of his little work tools on his back porch table and make his brunch muffins look cute and presentable and then wander around in the half frozen dirt behind his house so it looks like he’s already doing something when Jonghyun gets here. Yeah. That’s what he’s going to do.

And so he does that. He marches his way outside, grabs all of his tools and things out from the old shed that he still hasn’t really cleaned since he moved here, scoots back inside to get his muffins, sets everything up on the porch, and shuffles out into the mud. It’s only a little mushy; it’s only just starting to thaw out. He still has a few more weeks before it’ll actually be workable. He hopes it’s ready by the first day of spring. He wants to be really dramatic and sentimental and plant his very first seed then.

He’s shuffling a shallow line around what he’s guessing will be the perimeter of his garden in the dirt when he hears footsteps coming through the trees to him. Oh. Aha. There he is. He keeps up his shuffling, staring at the ground, until he reaches the end of his porch and looks up. Jonghyun is very much closer now, smile easy and hands in his jacket pockets as he steps up to the end of the porch a few seconds after Taemin.

“Hi friend,” he says.

“Hey,” Taemin says back, and frick. This is still. Kind of awkward. He rubs his neck sheepishly, then points up to his little porch table. “I made muffins,” he says. “If you. Wanted one. They’re blueberry.”

“Ooh,” Jonghyun says, and slips around Taemin and up the small steps. “Thanks,” he says as he grabs one. Taemin nods back, scuffing the mud awkwardly under his shoe. Jonghyun takes a bite of his muffin, swallows, licks his lips, and leans on the railing of his porch, surveying his empty back yard. He takes another bite and turns his gaze to Taemin with an amused brow raised, like he knows that Taemin doesn’t know what to say and he thinks it’s cute. Hecking heck.

“So tell me what you have figured out already,” Jonghyun says after another moment, nodding at the dirt and hiding his next grin in his muffin when Taemin blushes. God. At least he’s moving the conversation along instead of just letting Taemin flounder.

“Um,” Taemin says. He gestures blandly at his empty space. “I was thinking, just, a generic square, see,” he says, pointing out his faint outline. “And I know what I wanna plant, and when in the year, but I have to figure out, like, how to fit everything in…. I figured out the soil quality and bought fertilizer and I’ve been composting since I moved here…. I’m not entirely sure? What I’m going to do about, like, bunnies and squirrels and shit,” he mumbles. He hasn’t really thought that part through yet. “But, I mean, I’ll figure that out.”  He shrugs weakly and looks back up at Jonghyun. He’s staring seriously back out at the empty space now, thoughtfully tapping the remaining half of his muffin against his bottom lip.

“You can build a little wall,” he says. “Around the perimeter.” He points around the outline as well. “It won’t keep the critters out, but it’ll look cute.” He gives Taemin a little smile that Taemin snorts at. He’s not wrong.

“That’s, like, digging a trench and dealing with brick glue and levelling and doing math and shit, though,” he says, scrunching his face. “Maybe later. Not now.” He’ll build himself a little wall when he feels like suffering. “Or maybe I could make a wall out of flower boxes,” he thinks out loud. That would be cue, a little wooden, flower-topped wall. “That’s money, though.” He sighs a little pout and Jonghyun chuckles softly.

“I’ll help, if you ever do it,” he says. He finishes off his muffin and dusts crumbs off onto his pants. “So you just need me to help you figure out dimensions and shit?” he asks, looking at Taemin curiously.

“Mmhmm,” Taemin says. “There’s a tape measure on that table somewhere, and a notebook of graph paper.” He hates math but he’s planning on making everything as even and easily divisible as possible. He’s good at drawing symmetrical things. Jonghyun turns to find the stuff on the table, but before he picks it up, he turns back.

“Can I throw my jacket inside really quick?” he asks. He plucks at his dark grey jacket. “I don’t wanna get all sweaty.” His nose scrunches as he says the word and Taemin snorts.

“Yeah, it’s unlocked,” he says, waving a hand at the back door. Jonghyun shoots him a finger pistol and scoots inside. Taemin smiles fondly to himself. Jonghyun is good and cute. He’s gone inside only for a few moments, and then he comes back outside, grabs the things from the table, and then hops down the steps to join Taemin in the mud.

“So what do you want to grow?” he asks casually after a few minutes of them figuring out and marking the exact dimensions of the perimeter on the ground.

“Uh,” Taemin says. He uses the noise both to think and to stall for time as he finishes writing down the little numbers on his graph paper. “A tangerine tree, over there,” he says, pointing to the far left corner. He loves him some tiny oranges. “A plum tree in the other corner, both of them mini.” He doesn’t have the time or expendable effort to be caring for big trees. “Onions, garlic, carrots, I’m going to try potatoes once even though I’ve never succeeded at them before, watermelons, some cute flowers... a bunch of little herbs, but those will be window plants, so.” He trails off at that and rubs his nose, embarrassed to have gone off topic. Jonghyun nods encouragingly, though, as he slowly lets the tape measure coil back into itself.

“Sounds neat,” he says. “Would you mind if I came and picked some of your oranges whenever they grow?” he asks.

“Nah,” Taemin grins. If his last little tangerine tree is any indicator, he’ll have more than enough for himself once she really gets going. “Yes for the plums, though,” he says. “I am. Very greedy. For plums.” He loves his plums. Jonghyun laughs softly, shaking his head with something akin to fondness that makes Taemin feel nice. He likes when people like him. “Speaking of the trees…,” he mumbles, checking his notes on another page for how wide both of them are supposed to get. “Come measure...eight feet? Over here,” he says, wandering over to one of the corners.

“Yep,” Jonghyun says, following him and handing Taemin the little nub at the end of the measure. Taemin stands at the edge of the perimeter and waits for Jonghyun to back up to eight feet. He looks at the space between them, imagines a tree there, tries to imagine it as a wide circle with a walkable amount of space around it. He thinks that’ll be good, in theory, if he trims and grooms it right. This is just a rough outline anyway. He nods to himself and lets Jonghyun cake care of the tape measure while he sketches in the tree on the graph.

“Plum tree, too?” Jonghyun asks, taking half a step towards the other corner. Taemin glances up, nods, and shuffles over there slowly while he finishes his writing.

“Same size,” he says, taking his spot with the end of the measure in hand. They repeat that little process and Taemin sketches in the plum tree, then bites his lip and looks at the space that’s left on his graph. Hmm. He thinks maybe they should redo these measurements with his little circle measurer too. He wants to have everything really figured out before spring.

“Hey,” he says, looking up with a sudden thought. Jonghyun glances at him with a curious hum as he watches the measure. “Springs are, like, nice here, right?” Taemin asks. He’s been meaning to ask this for a while but he just kept forgetting. “Like, I’m not going to be struggling too hard, right?” He just wants a nice, easy, casual start to his garden. A few small crops and flowers to get it all rolling and get his confidence up.

“Uh,” Jonghyun says. He puffs his lips, thinks for a moment, shrugs. “I mean, I think so,” he says. “I like them, at least,” he shrugs. “I don’t really garden, but the weather is a pretty consistent warm and the rains are never too cold or too humid.” He shrugs again and Taemin hums. Alright then. That’s good.

“If it’s warm and not humid, does that mean you’re going to go camping soon then?” he asks, raising a brow when Jonghyun’s mouth curves into a sheepish grin.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he says. “I stay out the longest in spring. The pups are born around then and they sound really cute all yippy in the distance.” He bounces excitedly on his toes and Taemin snorts. Of course. Taemin likes how Jonghyun can be so predictable. He’s a simple egg on the outside, just living his life half in the forest and half super in the forest. Taemin appreciates it. He likes when the people in his life aren’t too complicated. It almost makes them easier to talk to.

“I think I want my watermelons between these two trees,” he says, backing up a few steps and gesturing between the corners. It’ll be cute. A little wiggly green patch. “So that’s… eight… from this edge.. a foot and a half between… start here?” He says it like a question, tapping a little spot on the ground. He thinks that’s right. Jonghyun obeys without question, handing him the nub of the tape measure.

“Hey, uh,” he says as he glances behind himself to back up. “Remember when we made out? Last month?” he asks. He’s avoiding eye contact, actually avoiding looking at Taemin for once, eyes over his shoulder and lip between his teeth. Taemin feels his own lips curving up into a smirk at the sight. Aw. He’s all shy about it.

“And jerked each other off on your couch during a blizzard, yeah,” he says. Yeah, he remembers it. Jonghyun backs up all the way to the far border, then steps in nine and a half feet. “What about it?” Taemin asks.

“This is fifteen feet ish,” Jonghyun mumbles, squinting at the tape. Taemin watches him for another second, highly amused, before ticking a little box and note on his graph.

“What about us making out?” he asks as Jonghyun starts stepping closer with the measure again. Jonghyun doesn’t say anything until he’s reached Taemin again, tape all safely rolled back up and gripped tightly in his hand. Then he looks up, looks down, looks back up again.

“I mean, I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I kinda liked it.” He meets Taemin’s eyes for a few seconds this time. “And I was thinking, maybe, you know, we could do it more often. Platonically. If you wanted.” He’s smiling again, a tiny little thing, and it’s nervous and hopeful. Taemin exhales a soft laugh and tucks his graph under his arm.

“I mean,” he says, and shrugs. “Wanna make out now?” he asks. Just to see if it’ll still be good. He wouldn’t mind. He liked kissing Jonghyun. “It’s been, like, ten whole minutes,” he says. “We can take a break.”

“Yeah?” Jonghyun asks. His smile is more natural now, more comfortable because of Taemin’s half-assed joke. Taemin feels mildly successful. Jonghyun takes another step closer, one hand lifting to play with the collar of Taemin’s shirt. “If you want,” he says, face so close to Taemin’s already. Taemin slides one arm around his shoulders, leans down, closes his eyes, and waits for Jonghyun to press their mouths together.

He does, softly and then firmly, his lips warm and plush just like last time in the stuffy heat of his home. Taemin pulls him closer and angles his head better into it, easily falling back into the same relaxed pace they spent so long on last month. Jonghyun sighs a soft breath against his mouth as he slips his arms around Taemin’s waist to cling loosely behind his back.

Taemin likes it; it’s simple, comfortable, but as they keep going, something just… doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t know what to with his other hand, for one. He can’t exactly hold Jonghyun with a pen and notepad in the way. He winds up tucking them to his chest between them, which probably wasn’t the best idea. Standing to kiss is awkward, and out in the middle of the forest like this, Jonghyun seems unsure as to whether or not to deepen it. He keeps pushing more into lazy, languid territory and then pulling back into soft, slow pecks. Taemin hums quietly as he curls his fingers into Jonghyun’s shirt sleeve.

“Something,” he mumbles when they break apart between two kisses. “Something feels, like.”

“Off?” Jonghyun asks, his voice an amused grin against Taemin’s lips. Taemin smiles back and nods, pulling away to lean their foreheads together.

“Maybe it’s different when we’re snuggled together on your couch in front of your fireplace under a blanket in the middle of a blizzard,” he says. Jonghyun’s quiet laugh is a puff of warm breath against Taemin’s cold skin.

“Maybe, yeah,” he says, stepping away from Taemin and taking his arms back for himself. “Oh, well,” he sighs. “Next winter, I guess.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Taemin agrees. He really did like kissing Jonghyun, when the mood and everything was right. “Maybe on my couch in my blankets in front of my fireplace next time,” he offers. He does like his own couch more than someone else’s. Jonghyun snorts, but nods, then stretches his arms out above his head. Taemin watches the flash of his cute little golden tum fondly.

“Anyway,” Jonghyun says. “What’s next, onions or whatever?” He gestures blandly at the rest of the garden space that they haven’t figured out yet. Taemin blinks, then remembers, bringing up his graph paper to check their progress.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, looking up to find Jonghyun already ready with the tape measure pulled out of his back pocket.

They finish up quickly enough, Jonghyun measuring all of Taemin’s space and Taemin marking it all down in his notepad. He’s going to map that out on his laptop later, maybe another day when he feels like it. He invites Jonghyun in for a quick glass of water before Jonghyun leaves to go back home, waving over his shoulder and taking another muffin with him. Taemin smiles as he watches him go. He’s good. Good and nice and sweet. Taemin doesn’t think he could have picked a better neighbor.

It’s not until the next morning that he notices the dark grey jacket thrown half neatly over one of his front table chairs. He pats it absentmindedly over breakfast, wondering if Jonghyun knows that he forgot it here. Hmm. If he does, he’ll come get it soon enough, and if he doesn’t Taemin is pretty sure that he’ll remember to give it to him at some point before he leaves.

Three weeks and a few days pass and neither of those happen; Taemin sits out on his back porch one night near the end of march and paints the beginnings of his little garden in the sunset with the jacket zipped up snugly around him. This time, it’s not until he notices a lack of chimney smoke from Jonghyun’s direction that he remembers that the jacket is Jonghyun’s and that it’s too late to give it back now.

After a moment of thought, he shrugs and continues his painting. It’s a very nice jacket. He’s sure that Jonghyun won’t mind him keeping it warm until he comes back.