[ Amusement curls at the corners of his expression, and while Minho tries to hide it behind his water bottle as he takes a swig, it's pretty hard to miss it. But there's no cruel twist to it, just simple humor in response to the brief stumble. It's not like it's the first time it's happened before-- hell, he's been in the guy's place-- but the dude in front of him is so ridiculously endearing about it and is also, god help him, super attractive.
Also, is that one of his old tour shirts? He hasn't seen one of those in ages, and it fits him so well that he kind of winds up slowly tracking his eyes down the length of his body. (Goddamn, but hello.) Suddenly he's really glad he hasn't seen this design in a long time, because it's well-worn here. ]
Here I am. [ Said cheerfully, he spreads his arms wide as if putting himself on display. But then he holds his hands out towards him, fanning his fingers (save for index and thumb, holding his bottle) at his backstage guest. ] And here you are! Though, dunno what I should be calling you.
[ The teasing comes naturally, and he taps the back of his hand against his shoulder as he comes closer to him. There's energy literally everywhere, and that includes here between the two of them. While normally he doesn't take this sort of interest in his fans, Minho really, really can't help it here. Either he got that shirt off eBay or he's a long standing fan, and yeah, it kind of helps that he's pretty much gorgeous, with those big ol' bambi eyes and that mouth and the slender waist. ]
Since you know me, but I don't have the pleasure of knowin' you yet.
[ Thomas sort of feels like he's been hit by a train and flew right on up into heaven, because Minho is literally two steps away from him, touching him, talking to him. It's an elated feeling, impossible really, but Tommy finds a smooth smile resting on his lips that just won't wipe off. He's embarrassed by himself already.
And he's never wanted to be a water bottle more in his life. ]
Oh - oh, sorry sorry, that's so weird. I know you and you don't know me, right? [ He debates extending his hand for a shake before settling on just shrugging, rolling his shoulders back and raising a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. He chuckles, barely. ] I'm Thomas. And I was...
[ He shifts. Yep, definitely embarrassing, but he's not going to forgive himself if he doesn't ask at least. Minho probably gets asked for his signature all the time, right? Nothing to be scared about. Even still, Tommy rocks his weight from foot to foot, slipping his hands down into the back pockets of his skinny jeans. ]
I was hoping I could get your signature? Like - on me?
Eh, you get kinda used to it, y'know? But for formality's sake, I'm Minho. [ And then he gets his name, and he contemplates it for a moment. Does he look like a Thomas? It certainly isn't a mismatch to his face or anything, but all the same he decides to test it out and see how well it rolls off the tongue. ] Thomas.
[ It seems to roll off his tongue just right; he decides he likes it. Sort of finds there's something about Thomas himself that he likes, though he can't pinpoint it exactly since they've literally just met. Might be the fact that he's starstruck but he's not just reduced to babbling at him. Minho appreciates it, and his face, quite a lot. His eyes track his hand up to his neck, then flick back to his face.
He does raise an eyebrow, the slightest bit, at the request. Not that it's the first time he's been asked for an autograph, but it's not every day that he gets asked for it on someone's body. Rocking his weight from heel to toe, he hums low in the back of his throat. ]
Permanent marker is actually a lie, you know that right? Just to make sure.
[ It's hard to say Thomas isn't thoroughly captivated by every one of Minho's movements - he tracks it and commits it to memory, because this might literally be the best day of his life, and he's going to replay in his mind from until - well, until forever, honestly. ]
I mean, the plan is to make it permanent. I'll show you.
[ Thomas tries to stretch the shirt out over his collarbone but it's unfortunately too tight, so he relents, pulling the hem of his shirt up and over his head. Embarrassment doesn't cover what he felt before - now he's bare, torso and chest littered with lyrics and images, at least half dedicated to his fanboyism. There's a stretch of words on his pectoral ( lyrics by Minho, first album ), down his ribs ( lyrics by Minho, third album ), and across the waist of his pants ( lyrics by Minho, another from the first album ). He's got the band's logo on the inner part of his wrist, and the title of one of his lesser known songs on his inner bicep.
There are other tattoos, of course - a celtic-looking maze at his other bicep, some constellations falling down his arm, a delicate deer head on his side - but his body is predominately dominated by Minho's words, and he flushes, looking the opposite way.
He brings up his hand to tap the stanza on his pec, rasping it lightly. ]
I thought you could sign beneath this one? And then I'd get it tatted in.
[ Lifting his bottle up to his mouth again as he keeps one eyebrow cocked at him, Minho observes him as he takes a slower drink this time, using it as an excuse to gauge. At first he's a little amused again, watching him deal with his shirt, but then he's taking it off and he is immediately more fascinated than he was originally. Of course people take their shirt off around him, it's either ridiculously hot because of concert conditions or they decide to throw them at him for whatever reason. Happens often enough that it should only cause a couple seconds pause.
This time? Minho finds that his brain sort of sputters briefly before he gives it a mental kick, because this guy is seriously stupidly hot and now he's shirtless.
And covered in his lyrics, the logo of the band.
Slowly setting his bottle down on an errant subwoofer as Thomas looks aside, freeing up both hands. Some days people think he's a little more brash than he ought to be, more forward than most people, so he doesn't really think much as he brushes his fingers over the familiar lines, just this feather-light touch as he follows the line of his ribs. (At least he doesn't go for the one down at his waist.) Dark eyes track the words, and he goes up higher, hovering over Thomas' hand as he gestures to where he wants the signature. ]
You are like a walking lyric booklet, dude. [ But he's got a crooked grin on his face, which looks a little touched because man he liked his music enough to get it inked on him. He's keenly interested in his other tattoos, but he'll check them out in a minute. ] Yeah, I can totally give you my John Hancock.
[ It's hard not to shudder beneath the ministrations of Minho's fingertips, but Tommy manages, just watching the movement and maybe taking a little bit of pride in the look on Minho's face. His fingertips are smooth, sweet even, and Tommy can't help but think that he'd really really like them tracing the tattoo on his waist.
But he reels that thought in quick, biting his lip to shoo off any attempt he might make on acting on it. He's content to remember the look on Minho's face, the feel of his fingers, and not ruin their first and probably only meeting. He tries not to be sad about it, since Minho is actually super cool, but it's hard not to be. He'll have to get backstage passes again, and pray Minho remembers him. ]
I'm a big fan. [ He supplements, hoping Minho isn't weirded out by it - but the tone in his voice makes Tommy relax a bit, twisting his torso to fish a marker out of his back pocket. He holds it out expectantly. ]
I know you're probably busy - but this would seriously make my life. I'm kind of wondering what I did to get so lucky, to be honest.
[ Eyes flicking across his pale skin-- Thomas, he finds, is covered in moles and freckles everywhere, and he wants to count them-- Minho finally looks up at him again as he speaks. A small huff of a laugh leaves him, eyes crinkling as he regards him for a second. ] Yeah, I'd say so, Tommy boy.
[ Seems more like an understatement. Should it be creepy? Maybe, but he can't bring himself to be creeped out right now. Not when he isn't getting even the slightest creeper vibe from him. Really, Thomas seems more along the lines of earnest and sincere than anything else, and he can appreciate that. He can also appreciate his devotion to something he loves so much. Not like Minho doesn't have lyrics tattooed on him or anything, after all. ]
You literally have my undivided attention until my manager comes around and decides to be a blowhard. [ He plucks the marker from his hold, ignoring the fact that their fingers brush in the process as he uncaps it. ] I'm gonna cop a feel, just as fair warning.
[ Thomas chuckles a bit, pretends not to be nervous, but there is a lot going on, and he wasn't mentally prepared for any of this. For Minho to be so charming, and for there to be chemistry between them - at least, Thomas thinks there is, but it could just be making it up. He probably is. This always happens to Minho, he keeps telling himself. I'm nothing special.
Even still, he shrugs a bit, leaning his head over to one side so Minho has all the room he'd like - maybe purposely elongating his neck to make it look appealing. Not his fault if he wants it covered in kisses he'll never receive. ]
Yeah well. Are you sure you should be giving those out for free? [ He smiles, tries to make a joke but he's not really good at it - shrugging almost sympathetically. ] I'm sure girls have begged you for one before. You're very charming. And attractive.
[ Eyeballing the patch of skin that Thomas wants him to sign, Minho considers the moment. There's definitely chemistry here, he thinks, and he's weighing out whether it's something to act on or not. This doesn't happen as often as someone might think, or at least not with the spark there that has him actually interested in it. He's not the type to capitalize on his celebrity status, though it'd probably be easy if he did. But this is just... different.
His eyes flick up and track the stretch of his neck, and after a moment he clears his throat as he realizes that he is, in fact, staring. A lot. He's not embarrassed by it, but he does make himself focus at his task. ]
Only to certain individuals. [ He laughs, bringing his hand up to steady against his chest. He's warm and soft, and he probably shouldn't enjoy the contact as much as he does, but he totally does and he's not going to be ashamed of that if there's a mutual attraction here. Instead, he's just going to carefully start writing his signature, making sure the lines are neat. ] A few probably have, but they haven't really been my type. They also don't tend to wear my crappy first year tour shirts or have my lyrics tattooed on 'em.
[ Thomas flushes beneath him, chest and cheeks and all, and he tries to run over excuses in his head to get Minho to keep touching him - and if that's not creepy, he doesn't know what is. But Minho's fingers are strong and warm, and his hands are a little wet from sweat, and Tommy doesn't want to think about when they have to stop touching, he just wants to live in this moment forever.
He can't fight smiling while he watches Minho sign his chest, eyelashes falling heavily down on his cheeks. Getting a new tattoo is always exciting, but this is incomparable to anything before. He's excited and happy, maybe a little bit sad around the edges, but it's a good kind of overwhelming. The addicting kind, and Tommy knows he's in deep, deep klunk with this crush.
He inclines his head, laughing. Minho's close enough to kiss. ]
The tour was really good, though. I went to a few shows. [ Few is putting it lightly in the long run, but he doesn't elaborate on that. ] Does that mean I'm your type?
yes yes she is but ur lucky I ain't attacking u yet
[ Thumb brushing gently against the sweep of his collar bone as he watches his skin flush under his touch, Minho tries to actually focus on his task rather than the guy he's writing on. If Thomas is looking for excuses to have him keep touching him, he could probably come up with a dozen that are probably deeply inappropriate for someone that he just met.
He's still really curious about all his tattoos, why he has them, what their meaning is to him. But he realizes that it has to wait a moment, because for as good as he is at multitasking he is not going to be able to pay attention to anything more than the fact that he's shirtless and blushing under his fingertips and he's close enough to breathe him in.
Pausing between Minhoand Park, probably the slowest autograph he's ever done in his life, he looks up in the scant distance between them, noting that Thomas is maybe two inches shorter than him but the very perfect height to just lean in and kiss. But what gets him is that he catches the way that Thomas' lashes fall over his cheeks, and he has to mentally regroup. Holy shit, he needs to hook this dude like yesterday. ] I'm actually really tempted to confiscate your shirt so you can't put it back on again, if that tells you anything.
[ Candid answer offered, he goes to finish the signature, grin wide enough to squint his eyes a little. ]
[ Tommy watches the marker stain his skin -- wondering if his mind is going in slow motion, or if Minho is just taking his time with the autograph. The second makes Thomas' heart swell up about five times its regular size -- even if he's going slow to make it perfect since it'll be a tattoo, Thomas doesn't care. He's paying attention to him, talking to him, flirting with him, and it's everything to not spontaneously combust in a fit of happiness.
He's seen the autograph plenty of times before -- never up close, naturally, since he's never been able to ask Minho, face to face, to get something signed. The backstage passes here he'd won on a whim on a radio show, being the tenth caller ( and one through nine, too, he had all his friends' phones lined up with the number at the ready ) and proceeding to cry like a baby when he got picked up -- but the embarrassment from that literally means nothing right now, because Minho in all his ridiculously handsome glory is right in front of him, and he's about to cry from happiness.
Thankfully, he doesn't do that. Just beams when the autograph is finished, looking down at it with reverence. He's blushing plainly at Minho's words, even still. ]
If you want one of my shirts, I can give you another one. That one's special. [ He gestures to it, though he makes no attempt at grabbing it. ] S'from my first concert ever. From my favorite band, too.
[ Minho gets to the end of the signature, because he has to eventually, but his mind is focused more on how this guy's gone and bought tickets to his concert, somehow acquired backstage passes, has tattooed his songs and the logo of his band on him, and is literally the most sincere person he's ever met. Who also doubles as the most attractive person he's ever met, in his opinion. Of course he's going to flirt with him, and of course he's going to draw this out as much as he can.
But then he's done, and he has to pull his hands back. Already he misses the warmth of his flushed skin underneath his touch, and he immediately starts thinking up ways to touch him again. It's absolutely necessary, so.
He caps the marker, eyes on Thomas' face, before he reaches around him and hooks his fingers-- and the marker-- into his pocket again. But he doesn't pull away from him, and instead stays in that close space between them, grin wide enough that it sickles his eyes a little. ]
You are seriously the most heartfelt dude that I've ever met, man. [ A bright burst of laughter leaves him, quick and happy, and he moves to set his other hand at his waist. Honestly, he's kind of thankful that Thomas isn't going to grab his shirt again. ] You giving me a shirt means you're going to have to come see me again.
[ Minho steps in closer -- and Thomas has read, has heard from people that Minho is usually pretty in your face and handsy, but he can't help but think this might be different. Or hope, he's probably hoping for it enough to trick himself that Minho is really into him -- honestly, how many people exactly like Thomas does he meet every day? Even thinking like that, or trying to think like that, doesn't kill Tommy's buzz, because Minho is literally holding him like they're old friends or something more, and Thomas is never going to wake up from this dream thank you very much.
He laughs brightly, which is a rare thing for him but the situation calls for it, stepping forward to meet Minho, hands reaching out to hold his biceps loosely. How many times has he thought about what they might feel like beneath his palm? A number he won't be soon to admit -- he ducks his head, looking down at where their bodies almost meet. ]
Wha -- you want me to? I haven't embarrassed myself too much? [ He laughs again, softer, the pads of this thumbs brushing across Minho's arms before stopping themselves. He's always going to be questioning himself, if only because this isn't exactly how he thought his night would go ( maybe in his wildest dreams, he prayed ), but there are literally no regrets in his mind. ] Yeah, okay, you can hold onto it. But only if I get yours.
[ There are a lot of days where Minho has to be reminded that people tend to have personal boundaries. He has them, himself, but they're usually because of his dislike of certain people and not really so much his comfort levels. (And that means it's usually for their own safety, in the end.) But this is a different thing, because there's a spark here and he wants to hold onto it before it can go anywhere. So, yeah, Thomas isn't tricking himself.
Delight lights his face up at his laugh, because he caused it and all he has to really do is tease it out of him. Tommy seems like a reserved kind of guy in comparison, quieter and less motion than Minho himself, and it's... well, it's a good mesh. He likes it, finds that he probably likes Thomas way more than he should for having just met him. But he doesn't bat an eye at the hands on his biceps, just angles his head a little as Thomas ducks his own. ]
No, man. I mean, you're still blushin' like crazy but that's just really, really adorable. [ Teasing is his go-to, and he grins even more, the muscles in his arms flexing a little as he adjusts his hold on slender hips. ] You don't want my shirt, it's sweaty and stanky.
[ His fingers flex against Minho's arm -- pointing out his blush only succeeds in making him blush a deeper red, ducking his head again as if to shoo it off. Not that it works even the slightest bit, but really, Thomas is way too interested in this once in a lifetime ( though, maybe not? ) opportunity, that being embarrassed about something isn't going to stop him from watching Minho. It's the sort of thing he'll reflect on in half an hour and wonder what the hell he was thinking -- but now he can only smile at Minho, nodding his head a bit.
Yeah, he's totally blushing. And it's all his stupid, charming fault. ]
Could probably sell it on Ebay and make some cash? [ He suggests, raising his eyebrow -- obviously joking, but you never really know with Thomas. He inclines his head, not fully of his own consent but because his body wants to bump foreheads with Minho, wants to press their lips sweetly together -- but his brain ( un? ) fortunately stops him before he gets that far. Glancing down at his bare torso, he shakes his head. ]
I can't walk around with no shirt on. [ And maybe he very badly wants to see Minho shirtless. Maybe. ] It's embarrassing.
[ The fact he ducks his head again-- ineffectual as it is-- is probably the most endearing thing Minho's seen in his life, and he's strangely fascinated by his long lashes at this angle on top of his red cheeks. He should probably lay off a bit, but really he can't bring himself to, teasing and prodding and seeing what reactions he can get out of him. Blushing and smiling and laughing, he's seriously going to run the whole gamut of it all if he can. ]
Mmm, I dunno. Probably wouldn't make too much. [ Thomas here doesn't seem like much of a joker, so he can't help but grin brightly at him, pleased with it regardless of whether that's its intent or not. But then he's too distracted with how close they are, and his eyes follow Thomas' down to his chest, and he can't help but contemplate it as well. (He has spots everywhere, it's so distracting.) ]
Tell you what. I'll let you borrow my shirt for now, if you stay for a while.
[ Minho's smile is stupidly infectious, and Thomas knows he's making an idiot of himself, but he just beams right back at him, pleased as punch to just be in the presence of this rock god. Being near him is enough -- but he's being held, looked at, and if Thomas were a more impulsive person, he's sure his mouth would be all over Minho's, probably like ten minutes ago.
But naturally, it's way more than he ever expected to have Minho's hands on him. Thomas wants to bring their chests in flush, wants to suck bruises on his tan skin, but he also really really doesn't want to ruin whatever is going on between him -- there's no way Minho does this with all his fans, there's just no way. ]
Yeah, I mean, totally. I can stay however long you want, Min.
[ It's a casual nickname -- probably out of the ordinary and weird, but Thomas has called him that so many times in his head before, that he doesn't even think twice about it. ]
[ Eyebrows raising a little at the nickname, Minho takes a second to process just how much he likes the sound of it coming out of Thomas' mouth. It's just one syllable, two letters of his name knocked off. That's it. But he really likes the sound of it, and it's the most asinine thing he's ever gotten hooked on before. He still gets hooked on it, though, and while his smile stays intact his eyes are scanning Thomas' face.
So far, they've gotten really close. He's gotten to put his hands on him in a way that's definitely not at all appropriate for new acquaintances or even new friends. Thomas also keeps getting really flustered, and is smiling at him, which just strikes him as something that not a lot of people probably get to see.
Usually he likes to figure things out first. But then he decides he's figured it out enough, because the interest is there and it's mutual and the air is thick around them. So he ducks in the short distance between them, all to steal a quick kiss from that pretty mouth. ]
[ Kissing Minho back is so automatic, Thomas doesn't even have the time to think oh my god, Minho is kissing me. It's small, tiny enough that Thomas can debate whether he just made it up in his head -- but he's wanted to kiss those lips since before he'd ever seen Minho, hearing his words was more than enough, and playing it out in his head is nothing like the real thing, he finds. Of course, upon the first time he'd ever actually seen Minho in concert, in photographs, wanting to kiss his mouth became wanting to kiss him all over -- and he really, really shouldn't be thinking about that right now.
His eyes get wide after the fact, essentially frozen in place while he looks at Minho, an unseen color of red blasting across his cheeks. The kiss was too short, he finds himself thinking, but there's no way he's going to be able to initiate a kiss -- holy klunk, a kiss with Minho are you some kind of stupid, Thomas -- so instead, he ducks his head into Minho's shoulder, shaking his head with a shaky laugh. ]
[ Shoulders twitching a little at the look on Thomas' face, like some deer literally caught smack in the headlights, Minho tries not to laugh too much or at least too obviously. But then he drops his head down onto one, and a laugh bursts out of his mouth, hands coming up to make sure he can't get away if he takes offense to his amusement. They slide up his sides shamelessly, fingertips tracing out the delicate deer-- so ironic, right now-- that he's got marking one side. ]
You kidding me? Anybody that'd pity kiss you is a shucking idiot. [ Gross and in need of a shower, it doesn't stop him from pulling him a little closer, that scant space between them so that they bump together like lost puzzle pieces. Head angling a little to the side, he almost absently nuzzles his cheek against him, laughter dying down to snickers. ] Gonna stop hiding so I can do it proper this time?
[ He's pretty aware that he deserved the laugh -- so he doesn't bounce back, just staying tucking up against Minho's neck, cheeks boiling up with embarrassment but also happiness because holy shit. Thomas is pretty much positive Minho doesn't do this with everyone -- even if he's a rock star who could probably have his pick from the fans that he has, he's definitely not the kind of guy to just kiss people, for fun. Or maybe he is -- but then he's asking for another and holy shit doesn't come anywhere close to what Thomas is feeling.
Pressing his smile against the bare bit of shoulder Minho's tank top allows ( and really really not minding the sweat, not even a little bit ), Thomas lets out another laugh because he can't actually believe this is real. He's going to wake up in about ten minutes and cry his eyes out, because he'll go back to living his boring old life where Minho hasn't kissed him. ]
... Yeah. Yeah, wow, sorry. [ But if this is a dream, he's sure and shuck going to get his money's worth. Bracing a hand on Minho's cheek, Thomas pulls himself slowly back, closing the distance and kissing Minho before he gets the chance to think otherwise. ]
[ Literally feeling the heat coming off of Thomas' face, it's hard for Minho to really keep from laughing even more. But it's so incredibly endearing and he's actually discovered that he has it kind of bad and they haven't even known each other for an hour yet. Or, well, Minho hasn't known him for an hour yet. Thomas has, apparently, known him for his entire music career. If only they'd met sooner, he considers, but then he reminds himself that they've met now and he is so not letting go of him now that he's got him.
Sure, he flirts with people pretty frequently. But it's never gone anywhere because he hasn't really felt that much of an interest with a lot of people, the thing that's gotten them to click. And yet here it is, and he can't stop grinning because he can feel that blush, feels Tommy smiling. ]
Hey, take your time. You promised you'd stay a while. [ And it means he can hold him, whoops. But then he's got his hand on his face, and he goes quiet, focusing entirely on every point of contact before he moves to meet him. This time, he lingers, angling into it and making it a proper kiss. ]
[ Somewhat surprised he hasn't just immediately died on contact, Thomas shuts his eyes and kisses him -- kisses Minho -- because he's ridiculously handsome, and also is in ownership of the best pair of lips Thomas has ever seen, let alone had pressed up against his. It has a weirdly calming effect, not to say his cheeks are any less red than they were or that his heart is beating any slower, but Minho has a nice feel about him, and Thomas can literally feel his insides falling to mush the longer the kiss lasts.
Which is why Thomas needs to ends it before he actually does die -- resting his forehead against Minho's, but keeping his eyes shut, pressing a smaller kiss to his upper lip before running their noses together. Thomas wonders if people can see them right now -- if maybe, somewhere, someone is taking pictures of them to be thrown up in some magazine -- a thought like that should make him jump back and insist Minho take him to his tour bus, or somewhere else, but he can't. He's stuck right here until his brain decides to regroup -- and probably long after that, too, however long Minho wants him to say. ]
This is not how I thought my night was going to go. [ He says with a fond smile, bumping noses with Minho again. ] Not that I'm complaining.
[ Minho's suspicions that Thomas would have literally the most amazing lips for kissing are completely accurate, and a part of him regrets the first kiss because now he's never going to be able to stop. One hand drifts up even more, going up higher until he can cup his face as he kisses him, a slow, easy thing that he's going to relish in while he can. Eventually someone will come along, he's sure, but it hardly matters.
But he doesn't kick up a fuss when Thomas ends it, and instead focuses on the smaller kiss, the brush of their noses. (Which, Tommy has an adorable nose, Jesus shuck.) A small hum leaves him, contented, and he grins in the small space between them rather than pulling back. There's always someone with a camera around, though he can't bring himself to care if he's caught making out backstage right now. ]
Be worried if you were complaining, to be honest. [ He ducks in, quick as anything, to press a kiss against the corner of that gorgeous mouth. ] Should probably relocate, though.
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no thank /u/
Also, is that one of his old tour shirts? He hasn't seen one of those in ages, and it fits him so well that he kind of winds up slowly tracking his eyes down the length of his body. (Goddamn, but hello.) Suddenly he's really glad he hasn't seen this design in a long time, because it's well-worn here. ]
Here I am. [ Said cheerfully, he spreads his arms wide as if putting himself on display. But then he holds his hands out towards him, fanning his fingers (save for index and thumb, holding his bottle) at his backstage guest. ] And here you are! Though, dunno what I should be calling you.
[ The teasing comes naturally, and he taps the back of his hand against his shoulder as he comes closer to him. There's energy literally everywhere, and that includes here between the two of them. While normally he doesn't take this sort of interest in his fans, Minho really, really can't help it here. Either he got that shirt off eBay or he's a long standing fan, and yeah, it kind of helps that he's pretty much gorgeous, with those big ol' bambi eyes and that mouth and the slender waist. ]
Since you know me, but I don't have the pleasure of knowin' you yet.
u.u
And he's never wanted to be a water bottle more in his life. ]
Oh - oh, sorry sorry, that's so weird. I know you and you don't know me, right? [ He debates extending his hand for a shake before settling on just shrugging, rolling his shoulders back and raising a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. He chuckles, barely. ] I'm Thomas. And I was...
[ He shifts. Yep, definitely embarrassing, but he's not going to forgive himself if he doesn't ask at least. Minho probably gets asked for his signature all the time, right? Nothing to be scared about. Even still, Tommy rocks his weight from foot to foot, slipping his hands down into the back pockets of his skinny jeans. ]
I was hoping I could get your signature? Like - on me?
RIP Snow.
[ It seems to roll off his tongue just right; he decides he likes it. Sort of finds there's something about Thomas himself that he likes, though he can't pinpoint it exactly since they've literally just met. Might be the fact that he's starstruck but he's not just reduced to babbling at him. Minho appreciates it, and his face, quite a lot. His eyes track his hand up to his neck, then flick back to his face.
He does raise an eyebrow, the slightest bit, at the request. Not that it's the first time he's been asked for an autograph, but it's not every day that he gets asked for it on someone's body. Rocking his weight from heel to toe, he hums low in the back of his throat. ]
Permanent marker is actually a lie, you know that right? Just to make sure.
SAME WOW
I mean, the plan is to make it permanent. I'll show you.
[ Thomas tries to stretch the shirt out over his collarbone but it's unfortunately too tight, so he relents, pulling the hem of his shirt up and over his head. Embarrassment doesn't cover what he felt before - now he's bare, torso and chest littered with lyrics and images, at least half dedicated to his fanboyism. There's a stretch of words on his pectoral ( lyrics by Minho, first album ), down his ribs ( lyrics by Minho, third album ), and across the waist of his pants ( lyrics by Minho, another from the first album ). He's got the band's logo on the inner part of his wrist, and the title of one of his lesser known songs on his inner bicep.
There are other tattoos, of course - a celtic-looking maze at his other bicep, some constellations falling down his arm, a delicate deer head on his side - but his body is predominately dominated by Minho's words, and he flushes, looking the opposite way.
He brings up his hand to tap the stanza on his pec, rasping it lightly. ]
I thought you could sign beneath this one? And then I'd get it tatted in.
SERIOUSLY JUST KILL ME
This time? Minho finds that his brain sort of sputters briefly before he gives it a mental kick, because this guy is seriously stupidly hot and now he's shirtless.
And covered in his lyrics, the logo of the band.
Slowly setting his bottle down on an errant subwoofer as Thomas looks aside, freeing up both hands. Some days people think he's a little more brash than he ought to be, more forward than most people, so he doesn't really think much as he brushes his fingers over the familiar lines, just this feather-light touch as he follows the line of his ribs. (At least he doesn't go for the one down at his waist.) Dark eyes track the words, and he goes up higher, hovering over Thomas' hand as he gestures to where he wants the signature. ]
You are like a walking lyric booklet, dude. [ But he's got a crooked grin on his face, which looks a little touched because man he liked his music enough to get it inked on him. He's keenly interested in his other tattoos, but he'll check them out in a minute. ] Yeah, I can totally give you my John Hancock.
YEP BASICALLY GOODBYE I'M GONE
But he reels that thought in quick, biting his lip to shoo off any attempt he might make on acting on it. He's content to remember the look on Minho's face, the feel of his fingers, and not ruin their first and probably only meeting. He tries not to be sad about it, since Minho is actually super cool, but it's hard not to be. He'll have to get backstage passes again, and pray Minho remembers him. ]
I'm a big fan. [ He supplements, hoping Minho isn't weirded out by it - but the tone in his voice makes Tommy relax a bit, twisting his torso to fish a marker out of his back pocket. He holds it out expectantly. ]
I know you're probably busy - but this would seriously make my life. I'm kind of wondering what I did to get so lucky, to be honest.
I'm so done.
[ Seems more like an understatement. Should it be creepy? Maybe, but he can't bring himself to be creeped out right now. Not when he isn't getting even the slightest creeper vibe from him. Really, Thomas seems more along the lines of earnest and sincere than anything else, and he can appreciate that. He can also appreciate his devotion to something he loves so much. Not like Minho doesn't have lyrics tattooed on him or anything, after all. ]
You literally have my undivided attention until my manager comes around and decides to be a blowhard. [ He plucks the marker from his hold, ignoring the fact that their fingers brush in the process as he uncaps it. ] I'm gonna cop a feel, just as fair warning.
[ Minho really. ]
thank you i need this thread desperately
Even still, he shrugs a bit, leaning his head over to one side so Minho has all the room he'd like - maybe purposely elongating his neck to make it look appealing. Not his fault if he wants it covered in kisses he'll never receive. ]
Yeah well. Are you sure you should be giving those out for free? [ He smiles, tries to make a joke but he's not really good at it - shrugging almost sympathetically. ] I'm sure girls have begged you for one before. You're very charming. And attractive.
Considering that other damn thread.
His eyes flick up and track the stretch of his neck, and after a moment he clears his throat as he realizes that he is, in fact, staring. A lot. He's not embarrassed by it, but he does make himself focus at his task. ]
Only to certain individuals. [ He laughs, bringing his hand up to steady against his chest. He's warm and soft, and he probably shouldn't enjoy the contact as much as he does, but he totally does and he's not going to be ashamed of that if there's a mutual attraction here. Instead, he's just going to carefully start writing his signature, making sure the lines are neat. ] A few probably have, but they haven't really been my type. They also don't tend to wear my crappy first year tour shirts or have my lyrics tattooed on 'em.
your girlfriend is the meanest
He can't fight smiling while he watches Minho sign his chest, eyelashes falling heavily down on his cheeks. Getting a new tattoo is always exciting, but this is incomparable to anything before. He's excited and happy, maybe a little bit sad around the edges, but it's a good kind of overwhelming. The addicting kind, and Tommy knows he's in deep, deep klunk with this crush.
He inclines his head, laughing. Minho's close enough to kiss. ]
The tour was really good, though. I went to a few shows. [ Few is putting it lightly in the long run, but he doesn't elaborate on that. ] Does that mean I'm your type?
yes yes she is but ur lucky I ain't attacking u yet
He's still really curious about all his tattoos, why he has them, what their meaning is to him. But he realizes that it has to wait a moment, because for as good as he is at multitasking he is not going to be able to pay attention to anything more than the fact that he's shirtless and blushing under his fingertips and he's close enough to breathe him in.
Pausing between Minhoand Park, probably the slowest autograph he's ever done in his life, he looks up in the scant distance between them, noting that Thomas is maybe two inches shorter than him but the very perfect height to just lean in and kiss. But what gets him is that he catches the way that Thomas' lashes fall over his cheeks, and he has to mentally regroup. Holy shit, he needs to hook this dude like yesterday. ] I'm actually really tempted to confiscate your shirt so you can't put it back on again, if that tells you anything.
[ Candid answer offered, he goes to finish the signature, grin wide enough to squint his eyes a little. ]
continues to show up late
He's seen the autograph plenty of times before -- never up close, naturally, since he's never been able to ask Minho, face to face, to get something signed. The backstage passes here he'd won on a whim on a radio show, being the tenth caller ( and one through nine, too, he had all his friends' phones lined up with the number at the ready ) and proceeding to cry like a baby when he got picked up -- but the embarrassment from that literally means nothing right now, because Minho in all his ridiculously handsome glory is right in front of him, and he's about to cry from happiness.
Thankfully, he doesn't do that. Just beams when the autograph is finished, looking down at it with reverence. He's blushing plainly at Minho's words, even still. ]
If you want one of my shirts, I can give you another one. That one's special. [ He gestures to it, though he makes no attempt at grabbing it. ] S'from my first concert ever. From my favorite band, too.
best one 4 last
But then he's done, and he has to pull his hands back. Already he misses the warmth of his flushed skin underneath his touch, and he immediately starts thinking up ways to touch him again. It's absolutely necessary, so.
He caps the marker, eyes on Thomas' face, before he reaches around him and hooks his fingers-- and the marker-- into his pocket again. But he doesn't pull away from him, and instead stays in that close space between them, grin wide enough that it sickles his eyes a little. ]
You are seriously the most heartfelt dude that I've ever met, man. [ A bright burst of laughter leaves him, quick and happy, and he moves to set his other hand at his waist. Honestly, he's kind of thankful that Thomas isn't going to grab his shirt again. ] You giving me a shirt means you're going to have to come see me again.
best one 4 first u.u
He laughs brightly, which is a rare thing for him but the situation calls for it, stepping forward to meet Minho, hands reaching out to hold his biceps loosely. How many times has he thought about what they might feel like beneath his palm? A number he won't be soon to admit -- he ducks his head, looking down at where their bodies almost meet. ]
Wha -- you want me to? I haven't embarrassed myself too much? [ He laughs again, softer, the pads of this thumbs brushing across Minho's arms before stopping themselves. He's always going to be questioning himself, if only because this isn't exactly how he thought his night would go ( maybe in his wildest dreams, he prayed ), but there are literally no regrets in his mind. ] Yeah, okay, you can hold onto it. But only if I get yours.
ur the best.
Delight lights his face up at his laugh, because he caused it and all he has to really do is tease it out of him. Tommy seems like a reserved kind of guy in comparison, quieter and less motion than Minho himself, and it's... well, it's a good mesh. He likes it, finds that he probably likes Thomas way more than he should for having just met him. But he doesn't bat an eye at the hands on his biceps, just angles his head a little as Thomas ducks his own. ]
No, man. I mean, you're still blushin' like crazy but that's just really, really adorable. [ Teasing is his go-to, and he grins even more, the muscles in his arms flexing a little as he adjusts his hold on slender hips. ] You don't want my shirt, it's sweaty and stanky.
uwu no u
Yeah, he's totally blushing. And it's all his stupid, charming fault. ]
Could probably sell it on Ebay and make some cash? [ He suggests, raising his eyebrow -- obviously joking, but you never really know with Thomas. He inclines his head, not fully of his own consent but because his body wants to bump foreheads with Minho, wants to press their lips sweetly together -- but his brain ( un? ) fortunately stops him before he gets that far. Glancing down at his bare torso, he shakes his head. ]
I can't walk around with no shirt on. [ And maybe he very badly wants to see Minho shirtless. Maybe. ] It's embarrassing.
u on
Mmm, I dunno. Probably wouldn't make too much. [ Thomas here doesn't seem like much of a joker, so he can't help but grin brightly at him, pleased with it regardless of whether that's its intent or not. But then he's too distracted with how close they are, and his eyes follow Thomas' down to his chest, and he can't help but contemplate it as well. (He has spots everywhere, it's so distracting.) ]
Tell you what. I'll let you borrow my shirt for now, if you stay for a while.
puffs at
But naturally, it's way more than he ever expected to have Minho's hands on him. Thomas wants to bring their chests in flush, wants to suck bruises on his tan skin, but he also really really doesn't want to ruin whatever is going on between him -- there's no way Minho does this with all his fans, there's just no way. ]
Yeah, I mean, totally. I can stay however long you want, Min.
[ It's a casual nickname -- probably out of the ordinary and weird, but Thomas has called him that so many times in his head before, that he doesn't even think twice about it. ]
pufferfish!
So far, they've gotten really close. He's gotten to put his hands on him in a way that's definitely not at all appropriate for new acquaintances or even new friends. Thomas also keeps getting really flustered, and is smiling at him, which just strikes him as something that not a lot of people probably get to see.
Usually he likes to figure things out first. But then he decides he's figured it out enough, because the interest is there and it's mutual and the air is thick around them. So he ducks in the short distance between them, all to steal a quick kiss from that pretty mouth. ]
Long as you wanna stay, Tommy.
>3<
His eyes get wide after the fact, essentially frozen in place while he looks at Minho, an unseen color of red blasting across his cheeks. The kiss was too short, he finds himself thinking, but there's no way he's going to be able to initiate a kiss -- holy klunk, a kiss with Minho are you some kind of stupid, Thomas -- so instead, he ducks his head into Minho's shoulder, shaking his head with a shaky laugh. ]
Really hoping that wasn't a pity kiss.
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You kidding me? Anybody that'd pity kiss you is a shucking idiot. [ Gross and in need of a shower, it doesn't stop him from pulling him a little closer, that scant space between them so that they bump together like lost puzzle pieces. Head angling a little to the side, he almost absently nuzzles his cheek against him, laughter dying down to snickers. ] Gonna stop hiding so I can do it proper this time?
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Pressing his smile against the bare bit of shoulder Minho's tank top allows ( and really really not minding the sweat, not even a little bit ), Thomas lets out another laugh because he can't actually believe this is real. He's going to wake up in about ten minutes and cry his eyes out, because he'll go back to living his boring old life where Minho hasn't kissed him. ]
... Yeah. Yeah, wow, sorry. [ But if this is a dream, he's sure and shuck going to get his money's worth. Bracing a hand on Minho's cheek, Thomas pulls himself slowly back, closing the distance and kissing Minho before he gets the chance to think otherwise. ]
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Sure, he flirts with people pretty frequently. But it's never gone anywhere because he hasn't really felt that much of an interest with a lot of people, the thing that's gotten them to click. And yet here it is, and he can't stop grinning because he can feel that blush, feels Tommy smiling. ]
Hey, take your time. You promised you'd stay a while. [ And it means he can hold him, whoops. But then he's got his hand on his face, and he goes quiet, focusing entirely on every point of contact before he moves to meet him. This time, he lingers, angling into it and making it a proper kiss. ]
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Which is why Thomas needs to ends it before he actually does die -- resting his forehead against Minho's, but keeping his eyes shut, pressing a smaller kiss to his upper lip before running their noses together. Thomas wonders if people can see them right now -- if maybe, somewhere, someone is taking pictures of them to be thrown up in some magazine -- a thought like that should make him jump back and insist Minho take him to his tour bus, or somewhere else, but he can't. He's stuck right here until his brain decides to regroup -- and probably long after that, too, however long Minho wants him to say. ]
This is not how I thought my night was going to go. [ He says with a fond smile, bumping noses with Minho again. ] Not that I'm complaining.
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But he doesn't kick up a fuss when Thomas ends it, and instead focuses on the smaller kiss, the brush of their noses. (Which, Tommy has an adorable nose, Jesus shuck.) A small hum leaves him, contented, and he grins in the small space between them rather than pulling back. There's always someone with a camera around, though he can't bring himself to care if he's caught making out backstage right now. ]
Be worried if you were complaining, to be honest. [ He ducks in, quick as anything, to press a kiss against the corner of that gorgeous mouth. ] Should probably relocate, though.
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I LOST THIS NOTIF WEEPS
ACTUAL WORST
I'm still fucking dying at the tramp stamp.
i thought it was witty ok
It's perfect and awful.
shhh
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new account first tag 8)
holds it to chest
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