༄ "WHO's gonna wake 'em up?"

"Not me. Look how cute!"

"Cliché."

"Shut up, Gally. Not our fault you can't pull anyone."

"Damn, Tes, don't take it to heart."

"I'm gonna puke."

"No, this is literally the best! I'm not waking them up. I'm enjoying this."

"Harriet, suck it up. Sonya, stop drooling and Teresa, stop giving Gally those glares."

"How can he say this is not cute?"

And what exactly is going on? Sam woke up by the voices, and was already in a bad mood because of that. Her position had been comfortable, yet people seemed to like ruining things for her.

She snuggled her head deeper into the pillow, tightening her grip around the one she held in her hands, and let out a breath. If these people would just let her sleep and get out of the bedroom.

"Come on. Wake up—"

"Alby! Don't ruin it!"

"Wake. Up. The sun has risen and we're—"

"What do you want me to do with that? Photosynthesis?" She spat out, her voice cracky.

"Would you people leave me alone and let me sleep?" A voice close to her. Minho. At least he agreed with her.

"Fine." And their voices slowly faded away.

Wait.

Was her pillow blowing air onto her face?

Could her blanket tighten around her body?

Could she feel her mattress vibrate?

Awesome.

Begging it was not what she thought it was, she opened her eyes. Then almost yelped, and nearly fell off the... couch. Because this was not her bed. 

Minho groaned. "Did we fall asleep here? For real?"

She watched as his eyes opened, wincing. "Apparently. Look— if I would've known I wouldn't have... whatever I was doing."

Yeah, she had lain on Minho's chest with her arms wrapped around him and his arms holding her tightly against him.

"No offense, but I thought you were a pillow... and a blanket, and a mattress," she added.

"Thank you for finding me soft, then." He ran a hand through his even messier hair, rubbed sleep out of his eyes, and sat straight up while Sam rolled off him, embarrassment making her blush.

After stretching her muscles, she remembered. They went to get ice cream, started talking, put the TV on, which caused them to share a blanket, and then they fell asleep. Amazing.

"Let's just get breakfast."

❤︎︎

Both of them couldn't keep their faces straight once they sat at the table.

Especially not when Newt and Thomas acted as if they hadn't moaned each other's names last night.

Maybe they were just giving each other massages.

Very intense massages.

And unknotting all the muscles, which must've hurt.

Totally.

"Would ya stop starin' at us like we're bloody ghosts?" Newt's face gained an unusual red color.

"You look like anything but a ghost right now," Sam commented. She stuck a fork in her egg.

It was her third egg that morning, because she accidentally threw the insides of the first two in the trash, and the shell into the pan. Typical.

"I'm glad you two found your spirits," Minho added, winking. "What was that, a massage?"

Thomas choked on his bread, and Newt's eyes turned bigger than her mom's bun.

Minho leaned in. Whispered to Sam, "I don't think that's the only thing he choked on."

She covered a laugh with her hand, nearly knocking over the milk as she did. "Oh, god."

Proud, Minho continued eating.

"So what're we doing today?"

Sam shared a glance with Minho. "Minho and I are gonna bake cupcakes as a dessert for tonight. Gally and Fry were gonna make a fire, right?"

"Yup."

"Awesome." Newt nodded. "I guess some can go grocery shopping?"

Eventually, the plans were settled and Sam stood in the kitchen with Minho and Frypan, because they found out they needed some help in the beginning. 

Fry told them what amounts to use, and the ingredients of the cupcakes. "Twenty minutes in the oven. Got it?"

"Got it," Sam confirmed. "Thanks, Fry."

The boy left with a nod.

She grabbed the ingredients. "You add the sugar as I melt the butter."

"Got it, ma'am."

Rolling her eyes, she stuck the butter in the microwave, and ignored the twitch in her stomach. After they mixed the butter and sugar together, she added the eggs.

Minho leaned against the counter. Popped a grape in his mouth. "Are we decorating them?"

"Of course we are." She gave him the flour. "Put it in a bowl."

"Demanding much," he muttered, but did as he was told.

Somehow, he failed.

The flour splashed into the bowl so hard that a cloud of flour exploded in the room, and Minho was completely covered in it.

He yelped, "My hair!"

Sam laughed at his face, which he didn't approve of either.

"Don't laugh at me," he gasped, and threw flour into her face. She gasped too, then started coughing.

"Gosh, you can't even put flour in a bowl? Minho, even with the damn hair—which is not ruined, by the way. It looks fine—we've got cupcakes to bake, you idiot."

He stared at her. "You think my hair looks fine?"

Sam groaned. "Quit complaining and—"

"I'm not complaining. I'm thanking you." He held up his hands. Shrugged a bit. "Anyway, come on. We've got cupcakes to make."

"Dude, I just told you that—"

"Don't call me dude," he spat. "We're dating. And I'm a man, not a dude."

"You're delusional, that's what you are."

"Me? I'm the delusional one? You—"

"Let's cut talking about delusion already. It's a disorder. We can't talk about it like this."

"Got it, Smarty." He wiped more flour away. "We're actually professionals!"

"We're better than Fry." She smiled as she mixed everything together and started scooping it into moulds. "Would ya give me a hand here? We're baking, not just me."

"What am I supposed to do? How, when you're blocking the whole counter?"

"Offensive," she grunted when once again, her shaky hands ruined the perfect scoops. Shuck shaking hands, man.

"Want me to do it?"

She just hummed, taking another attempt to do it right, which worked... kind of.

"Here." Suddenly, he stood behind her and she could feel his breathing tickle her neck and her heart pound in her chest and her stomach flip and his hand touch her waist before it trailed to hold her hands so he could guide them and—

Breathe.

Together, they did manage to fill the moulds equally and made it look good too.

And Sam could no longer pretend she wasn't affected by him. Damnit, the arms full of veins. A blush on her cheek. Damnit, his smell. A weakness in her legs. Dammit, his looks.

Hm. Pretending to be in love was getting easier by the time.

They didn't apart when they finished making the cupcakes. Sam stood rooted to the floor and Minho only made more space disappear between their bodies and the counter.

Her breathing heaved. She nearly held it as she froze. God, what was happening?

"I think they're ready for the oven," she peeped, completely overwhelmed by how she felt, the certain heat, and the bare amount of space between them left.

"Of course," he said, and let go. "I bet they taste amazing."