"So," Ava came to the kitchen in an attempt to cook something for herself, but was a little less than surprised to find Minho already in there. Due to him cooking for her the time when she got sick, he already knew what was kept where. Upon hearing her voice, he turned around, and she saw how he was wearing that Shinchan's ass apron yet again. 

She snickered, "Seems like you're into ass." 

"Shut up," he grumbled. 

"Okay, you gremlin," Ava raised her hands in a playful surrender, "You're not into ass. Does that make you happy?" 

"Oh, yeah, I'm glad you're so invested in making me happy," Minho sassed, "Seems like I'm creeping into your veins, isn't that so?" 

"Okay, Shakespeare's illegitimate son," she kept her hands on her hips, "Very poetic. But very wrong." 

He left the spatula he was holding, and then stepped closer, "Prove me wrong." 

"What? Do you want me to empty out my veins before you? Conduct a dialysis?" she grimaced. Okay, Ava, please get the hint. 

Minho stepped even closer, "Tell me that you don't want me." 

"I want you, Minho! I fucking need you!" Ava cries out, an expression of immense desire evident on her face. 

"Ah, I knew it," he says, snaking his arms around her waist, "I knew you'd come around." 

She looks up at his towering form, eyes holding deep emotions and unspoken promises, "Kiss me, Lee Minho." 

"As you say, baby." 

The two inch closer, the space between their lips barely that of a thin hair, and then- 

"Nope. I don't want you." 

Minho snapped out of his little daydream. About time you did, Minho. 

Ava raised a brow at him, "And why would you even ask me that? Creep." 

She turned around, walking over to the living room, shattering all of Minho's hopes and dreams and future and retirement plans. He sighed, turning to the stove, and cooking up a storm, piece of cake-

"Hey," she walked back in, an apologetic look on her face, "I got a little too rude there."

He raised a brow at her, "Oh?"

"Listen," she said, "I barely know how to cook, so I can't help you here anyway. So... how about a movie?"

"In your room?" he teased, chuckling when she grimaced.

"No! In the living room!"

"Okay, okay," he stirred the dish in the pot, taking his eyes off her, "Choose a good movie, then."

Ava smiled, "Aight, male-wife," she giggled.

Minho would protest, but not when she accompanied her words with her giggle. Bro was a simp for her noises (wink wonk), "Oh? Okay... female-husband."

She walked off, laughing, leaving a residue of a smile on his face, too, as he cooked.

Ava, on the other hand, spread a fresh bedspread over a mattress on the floor in the living room, and littered it with blankets and pillows as she waited for him to finish cooking. She was just surfing through the Netflix library when Minho arrived at the spot with two plates of food, a pleasant smile on his face, "Do I see effort here?"

"Well, my male-wife, it's the princess treatment you get from Kim Ava," she grinned at him, taking the plates from his hands. Minho's entire focus went on only one word: my male-wife.

Lee Minho was never delusional. He was the president of the anti-delulu committee, in fact. But, well, look at him now.

He sat down beside her, and from what he could remember from the sappy romantic movies Han Jisung had shown him, he knew that he could have her close to him by choosing a horror movie. And chasing his chance, he said, "How about we watch a horror movie?"

"Ah! Great choice!" Ava beamed, and Minho knew that he was definitely going to have her sticking by his side as a random actor with a bad makeup look chased down the survivors in a typical horror movie. But what he did not know was...

"You know what's the most horrifying thing? Real life horror. So let's watch Dahmer!" she suggested, putting on the movie... much to Minho's horror.

Skip to fifteen minutes later, and Minho was screaming his lungs out in terror, his eyes shielded by his hands, while Ava munched on the food, engaged in the show.

"HOW ARE YOU ABLE TO EAT WHILE WATCHING THIS?" he cried.

"Huh? The food's delicious, by the way," she absentmindedly spoke.

And that was how Lee Minho knew that Kim Ava was probably braver than him. And maybe even a little psychopathic. Sexy- wait, what? 

(a/n: I could not survive the first five minutes of Dahmer. Could you? T_T

Thanks for reading! I love you!)