Title: It's Perfectly Normal

Author: [Anonymous]

Prompt #: 30

“We had a sleepover and I woke up earlier than you so I wanted to grab something to eat and why the actual is there so many blood packs in there” vampire au

Not to include in the final work: N/A

Prompt given by: [Anonymous]

Word Count: 4,331

Rating: PG-13 (general fluff, cursing, mentions of and of atypical ual behaviors)

Author's note: I have nothing to say other than I'm not sure what happened here. I plead temporary insanity.

Summary: When sleeping like the dead isn't just a figure of speech.

Donghae cannot be held accountable for his actions in the morning. He simply can't. He's a natural born cuddler, a nuzzler even. For him not to reach out and latch onto the nearest, warmest thing he can grab a hold of in the morning is like asking a koala not to hug a tree. It's just not possible. He's aware it's a problem, especially on impromptu sleepovers but he just can't seem to help himself. It's in his nature. This time around he wakes in stages, hoping that by slowing down the process that he could somehow manage it better. It's a fruitless endeavor of course, the path laid with a brickwork of temptation, especially when Donghae finally does decide to open his eyes and lays witness to the worst bed head he's ever had the pleasure of seeing. What else can he do but give in?

He folds into Eunhyuk's space, hoping to fully submerge himself in the warm, tangy cologne that only sleep can provide, but comes up dry. Eunhyuk doesn't smell the way a night of and sleep should smell like on a man, or more specifically, he doesn't smell at all. Donghae doesn't have a mind you, but he does enjoy the familiarity and comfort that scent can offer someone. It's perfectly normal, he's almost sure of it, but with Eunhyuk, there isn't even the barest hint of a smell. No last vestiges of days old cologne, a complete absence of the usual suspects like sandalwood, vanilla or musk.

Donghae frowns, but with a heightened resolve he buries his face further into the crook of Eunhyuk's cool neck and takes an unabashed whiff. He still comes up dry. Dizzy with salacious inhales, he decides to call it quits and resigns himself to the belief that maybe he can't smell Eunhyuk because he's coming down with something. It wouldn't come as a surprise. They were out really late night last night and they didn't get much sleep. Not that Donghae's complaining (even though he was, sort of). So, maybe his sense of smell is off. Just the idea of being sick has him burrowing deeper into the obliviousness of Eunhyuk's sleeping form—speaking of which, can the man sleep through anything? Donghae was being none too gentle about his cuddling (he's aware of the irony) and more than obvious about his attempts for attention. He was usually the one who slept like the dead.

The bedroom is relatively dark with a slight chill in the air and the sun's late appearance leaves Donghae in a constant state of limbo, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. After what feels like hours, but are probably mere minutes, he feels that familiar pang of boredom (or possibly his bladder). Begrudgingly, he separates from Eunhyuk's sleeping form in search of a place to relieve himself (preferably a toilet), with the much anticipated risk of waking his sleeping partner. After a quick scuffle with the bed sheets, Donghae's attempts at rousing himself from the bed are successful—his attempts at rousing the slumbering form next to him, not so much. Despite the usual theatrics that stiff joints, unfamiliar surroundings and creaking beds provide in the morning, Eunhyuk remains blissfully unaware.

The journey to the restroom is productive, but uneventful. With his bladder taken care of, some minty finger brushing and a quick cleanup below the belt, Donghae is quickly reminded of his need to rehydrate—a night of drinking and debauchery is known to do that to a man. A quick scan of the one bedroom apartment makes finding the kitchen a breeze, seeing as he is already standing in it. To say that Eunhyuk's basement apartment is small is being generous (and a complete fiction because even a Smurf would think it was small), but Donghae doesn't like to judge people based on superficial status symbols like apartments, cars or jobs. He will judge Eunhyuk like any level headed individual—by the contents of his fridge, and if he remembers later, his medicine cabinet.

Normally, Donghae would just talk to the guy but when said guy is passed out in the bedroom, and dead to the world, what else could he do but invade his privacy by looking into his most intimate spaces? He really can't be held accountable for his actions at this point. It's a perfectly reasonable solution to Donghae's two biggest problems; boredom and curiosity...and he really, really wants to like Eunhyuk, so save for a severed head in the fridge, there is little that could convince Donghae that Eunhyuk isn't a keeper. Last night was probably the best night Donghae has had in a very long time, and this was even before the earth shattering capades that followed.

At least, these were the thoughts that were running through Donghae's head before he happens to open the fridge and see a not so healthy collection of blood bags, literal bags of blood, filling every shelf and drawer the appliance has once advertised. There's enough blood in the fridge to fill a football stadium, or...a fridge. It was like a medical drama in there. Donghae half expects to hear an intercom blare with a code blue and a medical team to whoosh past him at any second.

He lets the door swing closed and stares blankly at nothing. It's strange to think that one's mind can just stop working, but that's what Donghae swears his mind decides to do, just when he needs it most. He just can't fathom why anyone would have so much blood. The one and only thought his brain does manage to piece together, isn't his best one (even Donghae has to admit that), but...maybe Eunhyuk is anemic and gets hurt, like, a lot? Blood transfusions can be handy is that's the case. Though, Donghae is fairly certain that no one is that anemic, not even Dracula—

"You want some coffee?" a gruff (y), sleep ravaged voice asks from over Donghae's shoulder, just before strong arms cradle him from behind. How did he—where in the holy did come from? Donghae's body goes stiff and he wonders who would win the bet for most rigid just then, him or the Tin Man. He knows where he'd put his money.

"What's wrong?" Eunhyuk asks, placing a swift kiss to Donghae's neck.

Is it Donghae's imagination or did the kiss feel a little sharp?

"Um...no, I'm good. In fact, I'd better get going," Donghae replies, oh-so-gracelessly prying Eunhyuk's arms off him. "I have...um...work and...stuff. I'll call you."

"I don't think you have my number yet," Eunhyuk reminds him, tone cautious but level.

"How many Lee's can there be in the phonebook? I'll find you," Donghae quips, struggling to keep his voice light hearted, as if a fridge full of blood is perfectly normal. He's not even sure if there are phonebooks anymore, but who can be bothered by trivial things like facts at a time like this?

Feeling like he's pulled that off as well as could be expected, Donghae high tails it out of the kitchen and is in the bedroom looking for his clothes in three seconds flat (because the place really is very small). He just needs to put on his clothes and—he has a mini heart attack and questions his life choices when he recalls why, instead of clothes, there is a garish yellow Pokemon Pikachu hoodie staring back at him, complete with yellow skinny jeans. Halloween. The walk of shame was going to be no joke, but it can't be helped at his point. It's better than walking home in his underwear, though not by much.

"I thought you said you were off today?" Eunhyuk asks, voice following closely behind. Or is it just the acoustics? Maybe Eunhyuk only sounds like he's breathing down his neck but is actually a respectable distance away, because honestly, the man lives in a shoebox. Sound wouldn't have very far to travel. And would it kill him to open up a window? The fact that Donghae can't tell the time of day is suddenly making him feel very claustrophobic.

"But, I wanted to show you my studio later today. You would see yours truly teaching an intermediate class. I was sort of looking forward to it," Eunhyuk adds, and he sounds so earnest that Donghae seriously contemplates whether a fridge full of blood is really a deal breaker. "You're still interested, yeah?"

Donghae does recall showing an interest in watching Eunhyuk dance today (he recalls showing an overall interest in all things Eunhyuk, but yes, dance was definitely a talking point). What Donghae saw last night was more like a sneak peak with the promise of more. Yeah, they danced, but the club was so crowded (Halloween) they could do little more than sway (grind) to the beat and he could tell that Eunhyuk was holding back. He really did want to see Eunhyuk let loose and move his body without the hindrance of a hundred other bodies crowding his space—just thinking about Eunhyuk's body. Donghae wants to take a quick glance behind him and ogle the six pack Eunhyuk likes to call a stomach, but knows it could be a fatal mistake, literally. Instead, he focuses on the brightest pair of yellow pants known to man. Why-oh-why had he picked this as a costume?

"And I wanted to see you dance," Eunhyuk admits, and this time the voice is definitely right behind him and Donghae can practically feel his body gravitating toward the sound. He feels light headed, punch drunk. He can't think straight but he knows there's something he wants to remember, something disturbing him, something bothering him.

"It's the blood, isn't it?" Eunhyuk asks.

Ah—yep, that was it.

And just like that, Donghae seems to snap out of it. He suddenly remembers why he's in such a hurry to leave and maybe not think about why the man of his dreams has a FRIDGE FULL OF BLOOD.

Well, with the proverbial cat out of the bag, there's very little reason why Donghae shouldn't address the elephant in the room, especially before his brain finds a way to turn the place into a regular zoo of colloquialisms. At this point, Donghae has most of his pants on, one sock and an ped Pikachu that is most definitely on inside out, but in his defense, fridge full of blood and all...

"Yeah, about that—" Donghae begins, unsure of how to, well, talk about a fridge