No Homo

Chapter 3 - Hot (Water)

As usual, Minho was the first to wake up. It had always been that way. Ever since they were kids who would beg their parents to let them stay at one another's house, Minho would wake up first. It was the same when they were high schoolers and Thomas would climb through his window to escape his family for the night. Every time, without fail Minho would be stuck watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his friend's chest, eagerly awaiting the moment honey, hazel eyes would open and he could finally leave the bed without running the risk of waking the other boy.

This morning proved to be no exception to the continuing trend, sunlight creeping slowly in through a dusty window above the mattress and ghosting across his face until its presence began to bother his sensitive eyes. The boy groaned in protest, burying his face into something soft to escape the dawn's probing rays and returning blissfully to sleep's embrace as he breathed in the sweet smell of white chocolate mocha and let it lull him. His arms encircled something warm and he pulled it closer to himself as the night's chill settled over the room, snuggling closer to the much needed heat and letting out a contented sigh as the warm thing wiggled back into him, letting their combined heat accumulate until the cold was no longer uncomfortable. Now, if only the boy didn't have something soft tickling right under his nose he could perhaps get some damn sleep.

Minho reluctantly blinked himself into wakefulness, the incessant tickle of the unknown fluff becoming unbearable until he was unable to ignore the irritating feeling and he unhappily forced his dark eyes to open. He wished he hadn't. His gaze was filled with the familiar mousey tones of Thomas's untamed hair and Minho became acutely aware of their situation, his arms having wormed their way around the middle of the other boy sometime in the chilly night and pulled him close until they were practically spooning, bare skin pressed against bare skin. They were both wearing nothing, save for a flimsy pair of boxers, and they were cuddling. Fuck his life.

"No homo!" Minho shrieked in pure horror, springing away from the bed like a cat out of water and pushing off Thomas like a launching pad, sending the younger male rolling off the mattress with a dull thump. Honey eyes blinked slowly in confusion, the haze of sleep still hanging over the smaller boy as he pulled himself up from the floor and stretched his arms over his head in a lazy yawn, the situation not having dawned upon him. Everything about the kid seemed to say "tired." His scruffy, brown hair stuck up at odd angles and fell down into his half-lidded eyes, which caught the light perfectly, the weak glow of dawn picking out unseen golden flecks in the orbs. The boys lips were parted slightly as he tilted his head, wakefulness slowly beginning to settle over him and realization suddenly jolting him into awareness, eyes widening as a pink flush ghosted across his cheeks.

"It's probably just because we forgot to grab any blankets." Thomas suggested squeakily, the words catching in his throat as he kept his gaze locked firmly to the floor boards. "No homo." He clarified certainly, beginning to get over his initial shock and both of them relaxed at the words.

"No homo, man." Minho nodded surely, shaking off the experience quickly. They were just two bros that happened to get cold during the night. Cavemen huddled for warmth, right? It was totally manly. Not gay.

"You wanna go for a morning run?" Thomas inquired, wholeheartedly soothed by their declaration of straightness and ready to get on with the day.

"That party isn't until late, we've got time." Minho agreed eagerly, already moving to a nearby cardboard box that still held his running clothes. If there was anything better than a morning run, it was a morning run with Thomas.

The two managed to get dressed relatively quickly, though Thomas did nearly faceplant trying to pull on his jogging pants and it was only thanks to Minho's quick reflexes that he didn't start the day by busting his nose off the floor. They decided to opt out of breakfast, Minho merely grabbing a slice of toast and an apple on their way out the door for them to eat later, both equally eager to get on with their run. The pair was quiet as they moved down the wet, dew stained steps and into the empty street, sharing a silent, private, look then a quick smile before Minho nodded and they took off like a shot.