Jinyoung eventually went home.

Mark's not moping, just stating fact. After Jackson told him that Jinyoung wasn't homeless, Mark knew he couldn't stay forever. It saddened him, but that feeling was quickly put out when he reasoned with himself; Mark barely knew Jinyoung, it didn't matter if he stayed or left. Or something, but Mark secretly wished Jinyoung was homeless and had to stay. That isn't to say the hybrid didn't take his time at Mark's apartment, eating his food and using most of his hot water. Strangely enough, it wasn't that different from Jackson randomly crashing at his place from time to time. Only, Jinyoung's presence was a lot more welcomed than Jackson. Cats were cleaner than humans, or was that just another myth floating around? Mark didn't know, and he didn't want to think too much into it.

Jinyoung left, and Mark's back to having a single person apartment again. Huh, he never really noticed how much space he had now that there wasn't a lump commandeering his couch, and the sink missing empty glasses that would appear during all times of the day. Or maybe he's just imagining things, his building couldn't have expanded overnight.

Mark sighs and puts away the last of the blankets that were on the couch. He wonders if Jinyoung will call like Mark suggested he could. (He doesn't realize that neither of them exchanged contact information at all. Too caught up in hope and second meetings, probably.)



A week later and no messages, it finally dawns on Mark he never gave Jinyoung his number and he's really tempted to call Jackson and maybe ask for a number. Or an address so he could...mail a letter or something? Mark drops his head in his hands, now that definitely sounded desperate. He groans and lets himself fall over on the couch while he contemplates how his life got to this point.

Normally he has no problem with forgetting people he just met, that was pretty much his entire college career, if he had to be perfectly honest. It wasn't full on “who are you again?” but moreso he didn't care what happened to them after “hello.” (College kids weren't really that interesting anyway, unless they made of habit of interacting with him much like what some of his now good friends did...) But Jinyoung is a weird case. Mark just can't get the hybrid off his mind.

Maybe it was because Jinyoung always made an effort to ask him about his day and everything in between, or because he walked in on the catboy actually dancing along to “Like A Cat.” He won't forget the look of surprise on Jinyoung's face, or insistence that it was for science. Whatever the case it was, Mark isn't going to forget that display ever, go ahead and carve it into his tombstone. But he genuinely did like having someone with him in his apartment, and the late night conversations about the latest Marvel movie over pizza. And especially the comforting feeling of knowing he wasn't alone.

Maybe Mark just misses Jinyoung.

Maybe it's everything. He sighs and drags a hand down his face. Lazily pawing around his coffee table for the remote from his horizontal position on the couch, Mark eventually gets the t.v on and hopes whatever drama on will take his mind off things. And he's definitely not going to call Jackson. Yet. He's not ready for all the gloating and the “I told you so's” from the younger man, or the Look he's going to get from Jaebum.



A few days later it's Thursday night, Mark's day off after a long, long, long few days. He doesn't hate his job, but after the first week or so there, he wishes he could stop coming home smelling like the inside of a coffee pot. Aside from being able to choose what he smells like—the mint of his toothpaste or peach of his shampoo—Mark likes having the whole day to himself. He barely remembers what he did for the past 12 hours, but Mark doesn't care. Enjoying his day off, that's what he's doing.

He has a few unread messages from Jackson, but without glancing he can tell it's just the younger man complaining about the kids in his class again. Jackson never means it when he tells Mark he's going to quit, and he does it at least five times a day, Mark knows he likes his job and he absolutely adores the little demons he calls students. So there's no need to answer him, if it was important Jackson would call or something. (The last time Jackson called he had ended up lost in a shady side of town trying to get home and naturally Mark had to “save him;” his words, definitely not Mark's.)

Mark glances at the time from his spot on the couch, 20:19PM. Ah, so it's been nearly five hours since he's last moved. He has an empty bowl on his table, the cereal and milk long gone, next to assorted bags of chips and cookies all of which were open and half finished, and somewhere was his can of soda. Mark considers getting up, cleaning up and maybe taking a shower, but then again he hasn't really done anything all day. Marathoning a few seasons of The Walking Dead didn't really count as a huge accomplishment. It kind of made him hungry—for real food and not like, people.

He groans, stretching and letting out the biggest yawn known to man; he scratches his side before planting both feet firmly on the ground and into his reliable Adidas slippers, getting up towards the kitchen. There's a crinkling noise and something akin to a crunch, probably an empty bag of chips or something that Mark pays no mind too until he takes a step and a hopefully empty can of soda shoots out in front of him to bounce off the far wall.

So that's where his soda went.

Mark isn't sure what he's look for when he opens the fridge, peering into the holy white box of food only to see a carton of milk, a few fruits and some leftover juice boxes from when Jackson came over with cartons of leftover food his workplace gave him after some party for one of his co-workers. He's not feeling juice, or healthy living, or the assortment of sauce packets laying on the top shelf. Mark makes a note to clean that out and maybe go out and actually stock his fridge tomorrow, and sighs and he closes the door. There's always takeout, he supposes.

Luckily for him, he's an organized guy and most of the menus are tacked to the freezer door with cute little food magnets courtesy of his baby cousins from home. Mark stares at the colorful pamphlets with a critical eye; his chin he wonders what his stomach wants tonight. He's the epitome of elegance and sophistication, standing before his refrigerator in an old tanktop and boxer shorts, analyzing a bunch of menus on a Thursday night. Just let those paparazzi bust through his door and take his photo.

He's feeling...not Thai, he had noodles yesterday so maybe rice? But the rice from that one restaurant isn't that great indicated by the red X he drew on the rice section, so maybe curry from the new Indian place? Or maybe he's feeling a burger...though he was planning to get a burger after work tomorrow so cross that out. The Japanese restaurant was pretty good, but a little out of his price range for the night. He'll save that for when he's feeling fancy. And there's always McDonald's.....Ah, he scratches his head, picking out what to eat was always such a chore. He just wants food to appear and no have to choose. So decides to pick like any mature adult with a growling stomach, he closes his eyes and spins around in place three times and nearly jams his finger pointing at hopefully a menu on the freezer.

Only he doesn't and his finger ends up in the only empty spot in the middle of the fridge, surrounded by a pizza menu, Chinese takeout menu, and a menu for fried chicken. Rubbing his finger, Mark shrugs. The fates have spoken, and that's what he shall order. Shuffling back over to the couch to grab his phone, he dials the pizza number and orders a medium sized supreme meat pizza with the cheesy crust.



Forty five minutes to an hour later, Mark's moved his coffee table to sit on the floor with his back against the couch, coffee table placed conveniently to his right so his newly purchased bottle of soda can be reached. On his left, spread out around him on the floor are: his medium pizza with the cheesy bread and complementary packets of hot sauce—Mark likes it hot—two boxes of fried chicken, one was spicy and the other one not, a box of pork buns, some lo mein heavy on the sauce, and of course his favorite beef and broccoli over rice. There are few fortune cookies scattered about, not really sure if he's sitting on one but Mark can't be bothered to move. Not when's he's comfortable and nursing a plate that consisted of a giant slice of pizza and a pork bun on his stomach. Plus he found Despicable Me on tv.

This was wrapping up his day off pretty nicely, and he's bound to have leftovers which means he's saved from grocery shopping one more day. He even forgets the brief embarrassment of answering the door in his boxers all three times, but he's sure those delivery guys have seen worse. Though he's pretty sure he was the one who was more embarrassed than them, but he's having a great Thursday night so who cares.

Mark doesn't forget to take a picture of his sweet set up to send to Jackson, either.



The movie is winding down to an end, and Mark wishes he had a something giant and cuddly to hold to sleep, but alas. He's not a little child, nor does he have an evil genius father who could win totally rigged carnival games. (His dad would probably just laugh and say something like “you can just sleep in your car, you love it more than you'll love anything else!” Thanks, dad.) As a commercial for the sequel starts playing, Mark turns his head to survey the damage. Half the pizza is gone, pieces of sausage and chicken littered here and there from when he picked slices up, most of the pork buns were finished off, as well as one of the chicken boxes—after a while he stopped caring what he was shoving in his mouth, his chopsticks, fork, spoon, even hands, would grab something edible so he didn't care. The Chinese takeout was still mostly whole, except beef and broccoli became pretty much just beef.

He feels the crumbs from pizza all over his shirt and on the floor, and he's pretty sure there's sauce on his lips, but that's what vacuums and soap is for. Separately, of course.

Mark wouldn't consider himself a glutton per se, but Despicable Me 2 is starting and he's not sleepy and he doesn't want to get up just yet....that full stomach has to go away eventually, right? He takes another swig from the two liter bottle of Cola and settles in for the movie, patting his stomach once for good luck.


It's maybe 22:30PM when he realizes someone's at his door and it's not the yellow things on tv screaming. Mark lowers the volume a little bit to make sure the pounding he's hearing really is coming from the door and not the somewhere else, because he's not expecting any guests. The last message he received from Jackson was a picture of him and his middle finger followed by a stream of nonsensical emojis. Nothing about coming over. And even if it was Jackson, he wouldn't knock, so this is definitely strange.

There's no pair of pants in sight, and it feels like it would be in bad taste to leave the stranger out there longer while he put pants on. He decides to just peek through the door and hide his body, hopefully keep the conversation to a minimum and he can just go back to his movie—pantless the whole way.

He groans when he gets up, crumbs falling to the ground off his tanktop, and takes a quick sip of soda before he walks over to the door. Without even looking through the peephole, Mark cracks the door open just a little bit so maybe half his face is visible so he can see his unexpected guest and vice versa.

He doesn't expect himself to quickly swing the door open and stand before said guest in his poorly dressed glory. Then again, he wasn't really expecting a dripping wet Jinyoung to show up at his door either. Is it raining out?

Mark's gaping, he can feel the air enter his mouth and go down his throat, and before he knows it he's cough and going red in front of the hybrid that he spent the past week thinking about. Real smooth. Mark almost can't believe his eyes, blinking rapidly to make sure his vision's alright. Because is Jinyoung really at his doorstep? Jinyoung, soaking wet with his hair sticking to his face and creating a puddle where he stands; shivering a little, but still with the same blinding smile Mark remembers from week ago.

“Hi,” the hybrid says, eyes disappearing into mere lines. Mark doesn't even know where to begin.

“Oh my god,” his brain settles for. Jinyoung just laughs.

“Anyway,” Jinyoung drawls out, pushing his wet bangs back with a hand, leaving it slicked back in a style that makes Mark's stomach do flips. “long story short, I got caught in the rain and you lived nearby so here I am!” He says, finishing with his arms thrown up in the air, an unsaid “tadah” floating around.

Mark blinks. “Uh,” he replies. He kind of gets what Jinyoung is hinting at, but there are times he needs people to be direct with him.

“Can I stay for a while,” Jinyoung continues, as if reading Mark's thoughts. That, he's thankful for, it's like Jinyoung knows him. He's perfect and Mark has to bite his tongue from saying Jinyoung can stay forever.

“Uh, yeahhh,” Mark says, standing up a little straighter while he stands aside to open the door for Jinyoung to step inside. He cringes slightly when he hears the wet sloshing noise of the hybrid's shoes against his hardwood floors, but then again he's got mountains of crumbs by the tv.

“Thanks!” Jinyoung chirps, shaking the rain from his hair (and ears), causing water droplets to fly in every direction, a few hitting Mark in the face. He just wrinkles his nose at the sudden assault. “The rain and me just don't mix, you know?”

Jinyoung's stopped in the middle of the apartment, his wet shoes and socks a few feet away by the entrance. Mark doesn't even have the time to be self conscious when he's pretty sure Jinyoung is slowly freezing.

“Yeah...hey, uh,” He starts to say when Jinyoung turns around to look at him, tail moving behind him lazily, “You should get out of those clothes. Cause, you know.”

Because you're going to get sick if you don't, he wants to say, but gets cut off before he can give his totally logical reasoning.

“Is that a come on?” When Mark looks over to Jinyoung there's a sly grin on his face, the tip of his fang just barely poking out above his bottom lip. His cheeks are still red from no doubt the cold, but the look on his face is far from “I'm currently freezing my off.” Mark doesn't know how to feel, especially with Jinyoung's hair still slicked back like that, a few loose strands falling into his bright eyes from when he was shaking himself dry. (Kind of like a dog, but Mark thinks that would've been insulting.)

So he keeps it cool and rolls his eyes, having experience with lame one liners thanks to Jackson. He's willing to admit he doesn't mind as much coming from Jinyoung. And that he's normally not this easy, but it's hard—the hybrid is just really, really cute.

“Just go shower, I'll lend you some of my clothes or something,” He chides, shooing Jinyoung off. “I hope you remember where everything is.”

“Aye, aye Mark~” Jinyoung sing-songs, mock saluting the blond before he turns on one foot towards the bathroom.

Mark just shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh when he hears the shower run. There's a small smile on his face while he rummages through his dresser for a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt; Jinyoung is a bit taller but Mark always buys his casual wear a size bigger anyway. The last time Jinyoung was here he had packed a bag Mark didn't know about until it came time for him to go to bed—seemed like everyone knew Jinyoung was going to crash at his place except him, apparently. So clothes hadn't been an issue then; Mark just hopes Jinyoung will be warm enough. (And then he pulls on a pair of sweatpants himself, even though the damage has already been done.)

He ends up standing in front of the bathroom door, shifting from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do with himself. Well, more what to do with the clothes in his hands; Mark couldn't just open the the door like “hey, I got you some clothes!” and leave like nothing happened. He certainly wouldn't like someone barging in while he was in the shower, so that idea's out of the question. He cleans regularly so the floor could be trusted...and he really has no back up ideas, so it's better than nothing. Leaving the neatly folded pile by the door, he yells through the door to let Jinyoung know before he slides on over back to his spot on the floor. The chicken probably needs microwaving, especially if he's going to be offering his guest some. Damn, more getting up to do.



It's maybe twenty minutes later when the he hears the bathroom door open, in the middle of a dance sequence and a guacamole hat, and halfway through his slice of pizza. Mark finishes chewing and leans his head back, just to check if Jinyoung was coming his way. The footsteps sound like they're going towards the couch, but then suddenly they don't and the fridge door opens. Mark finds himself rolling his eyes and going back to the movie.

“Want some chicken?” he asks through another mouthful of wonderful, delicious, cold pizza.

“Sure,” a voice way closer than Mark expected says. He feels the a dip in the couch behind him, the gray of sweatpants show up in his peripheral vision, and Mark holds a spare pair of chopsticks he grabbed earlier up to the hybrid. He's absolutely engaged in Gru's secret night mission and not at all wondering what Jinyoung looks like in his clothes. Not even tempted to look over to sneak a peek, not when he has better things to look at, namely all the takeout that's still laying around. Sure Jinyoung's cute and snarky, but he's no pork bun: round, pure, delicious, and satisfying. And pork buns certainly didn't show up at his doorstep dripping wet and giving him feelings.

“Thanks,” Mark hears. He hums in response, reaching over to grab the lo mein and pulling the chicken a little closer so Jinyoung could reach it. When the hybrid leans forward, Mark glances over and nearly spits out his mouth of noodles. Instead he makes a choking noise and has to hold his hand over his mouth to keep the food in there and chew like his life depended on it. If his eyes weren't screwed shut Mark would see the look of pure horror on Jinyoung's face—things were all fine and dandy, then Mark starts choking? Good going, buddy.

He eventually gets it all down, scrambling for his drink to wash it all down, Jinyoung staring with concern written all over his face as it happens. If Mark has to be honest, that really wasn't the worst thing that happened to him. One of the best really, because there's nothing quite like the image of Jinyoung with a towel over his head. Seemingly normal and plain, but the shape of his ears under the towel made for a pretty funny picture. It was like one of those Egyptian gods, but of the bathroom or something. Bottom line was that it was funny and Mark doesn't regret looking over.

“Uh, it happens,” He says, clearing his throat. Jinyoung doesn't look reassured at all. Mark barely has time to notice that he's wearing his giant Flash hoodie when Jinyoung leans over and starts slapping his back. Hard.

“This helps, don't worry,” Mark thinks he hears over the sound of his organs pressing up against his bones because holy Jinyoung hits hard. Is it just him or is everything shaking? “Oh my god,” he manages to breathe out in between slaps. It seems to catch Jinyoung's attention because it suddenly stops, and miraculously so does the shaking.

“All better, right?” Mark doesn't even have to look to know there's a smirk on Jinyoung's face. There was always something suspicious about his smiles, from the gleam in his eyes to how wide his grins were, and he thinks he's finally figured it out. This hybrid definitely has a sadistic streak.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Peachy.” The sadistic smirk is replaced with something more smug as Jinyoung flops back into the couch, eating the chicken he speared with his chopsticks.

Falling into a peaceful silence sans the noise from the tv, Mark almost forgets about the glaring red color of his hoodie on Jinyoung. Almost being the keyword, because when he looks up to ask the other if he wants any of the death noodles he's currently devouring, he forgets how words work and all motor skills, really. And so Mark ends up staring and gaping.

He supposes it's lucky animated movies exist and one's playing right now; their ability to capture the attention of peoples of all ages is commendable and really good for making sure certain cat hybrids didn't know certain guys were staring at them. Certain cat hybrids that wore oversized hoodies with sleeves that covered their hands making them look smaller and cuter than certain guys knew they were. And if Mark said the view didn't make his heart stop, he'd be lying. Jinyoung was sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, an arm wrapped around his knees while the other held onto the chopsticks he was biting on. His tail was creating a small breeze near Mark's face, but it was helpful in cooling his face down. Because boy did his face become red. If he's dead and his soul ascended to heaven, yeah Mark's totally cool with it.

“It's like our first meeting all over again,” Jinyoung's voice snaps Mark out of his daze. Sometime between Mark staring and Jinyoung calling him out, Jinyoung had looked over with the intention of asking Mark to pass the pizza over to notice the blond man staring at him with his mouth slightly open. Cute, slightly unsightly, but still kind of cute.

“Uh,” Mark closes his mouth and quickly turns back to the movie, shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth.

“I'm slowly taking over,” he feels Jinyoung move and lean in close by his ear, to the point Mark can feel his soft breaths on his face.

“Your breath smells like chicken, could you maybe—”

“I've slept in your bed, lived in your apartment, now I'm wearing your clothes,” Jinyoung continues, not even acknowledging Mark's complaint. Instead the hybrid moves even closer to throw an arm around his shoulders in a lazy hug, causing Mark's heart to nearly leap out of his chest. “You better watch out, I might steal your identity next.”

The hybrid laughs and sinks back into his corner of the couch when Mark swats his face away, clearly not amused with his threat of identity fraud. A fond roll of the eyes and a high pitched giggle escaping his lips, Mark shakes his head and moves up to sit on the other side of the couch beside Jinyoung. He doesn't miss the way Jinyoung's eyes crinkle up into little moons, or the wide smile he knows is hiding behind the sleeved hand.

“You're ridiculous, I let you in here!” He says, playfully shoving at Jinyoung's knee. He gets swat by the hybrid's tail in retaliation.

“All part of my trap,” Jinyoung chirps back.

“Good luck fooling people with your ears and tail,” Mark snorts, reaching down to peel a piece of cheesy crust off one of the remaining slices of pizza. Jinyoung laughs, a full body laugh that has his shoulders shaking and head tipped backwards, and Mark find himself laughing along with him, bread in his mouth and all.

“I can be very purrrsuasive,” the hybrid finishes when the laughter dies down and Mark's wiping the tears from his eyes, a suggestive tone in his voice. And when Mark looks over Jinyoung has the nerve to wink; he swears the hybrid knows exactly what he's doing to Mark's entire being right now. Unfortunately, anyone who's been around Jackson long enough will somehow absorb his sense of humor and automatically become a little less heart stopping and more exasperated sighing. It's a real thing Mark will stand by; he's seen Jaebum laugh, totally unrestrained and free.

“Yeah, I'm sure the government will be convinced,” Mark rolls his eyes, a small smile appearing on his face when Jinyoung sticks his tongue out at him. “I'd definitely tell on you.”

“Oh yeah, who'd believe you over little ol' me?” Jinyoung even bats his eyelashes for added effect. Mark scoffs.

“Jaebum, probably.”

“Ehhh, he might not mind so much. Maybe. If I don't have to get him to bail me out of jail.”

“Yeah well, he'd mind if Jackson makes a big fuss about his best friend's identity was stolen.”

“Touche.”

There's silence for a little while, both watching the movie, noises of amusement here and there.

“Want some apple juice?”

“Sure.”

It's pretty easy, fitting Jinyoung into his space.



“How do I know you even washed these blankets?” Jinyoung asks, eyes narrowing, but Mark knows he's just teasing. He is the with the apartment, warm and dry and certainly not wet and dark like it was outside.

“I may eat like a pig, but I don't live like one,” he replies in the most haughty, offended tone he can muster. He even sticks his nose in the air and unceremoniously drops the folded blankets on top of Jinyoung. Mark only stops to help when he hears the hybrid start laughing, kicking the blankets open and getting tangled in them.


After the movie finished, the food coma was finally starting to hit Mark and he decided to call it a day. Dumping all the chicken in one box and throwing the leftover pizza in there too to save room, he piled the boxes of Chinese takeout on top and takes it to the refrigerator where it will most likely be taken out again tomorrow for dinner.

When he got back to the living room area he found Jinyoung sprawled along the couch, wasting no time to claim the entire couch as his own.

“You know, you could be helping,” He said, grunting as he bent down to pick up napkins and utensils off the ground.

“I'm a guest, I reserve the right to not have to lift a finger,” Jinyoung hummed out, brushing the fur of his tail, looking intrigued at his own fur instead of looking at Mark.

“You lived here for like two weeks,” He replied, but made no move to get the hybrid up to help him clean up the crumbs. Mark went to the cabinet to pull out his handy dandy mini vacuum, plugging it in and wincing once he turned it on.

Apparently he wasn't the only one, Jinyoung straightened in his seat and gave Mark a dirty look. He didn't even do anything! He just shrugs and gets on the floor to clean like the poor unfortunate soul stuck doing chores alone had to do. Thankfully he only had to vacuum one area, making the job mostly quick and painless. Mark was going to get ready to grab a pillow and blanket for Jinyoung, when the hybrid opened his mouth.

“So, do I get the bed this time?”

Mark dragged a hand down his face. Yeah, definitely hung out with Jackson too much.


“Comfortable?” He asks, watching Jinyoung toss and turn on the couch, looking for the right position. His ears twitch once or twice atop his head, tempting Mark to reach over and pet them.

“Perfectly so,” Jinyoung says, pulling the blanket over half his face so that only his bright, way too awake eyes are showing. Cute, adorable, and kind of suspicious, but mostly cute. Mark's accepted reality and only prays he doesn't do anything stupid.

“Good,” he replies with a nod. “Well, good night then.”

“Good night,” He hears Jinyoung say when he goes to switch the light off. “Thanks for letting me stay.” Mark experiences a little deja vu, having to refrain from blurting out Jinyoung was more than welcome to stay forever if he wanted to. Instead, he just smiles in the dark as he makes his way back to his room and under his covers, slipping into a peaceful dream of cat hybrids and rainy days.



Mark wakes up the next morning to the sound of rain and soft murmuring from the living room. He groans and grabs a fistful of blankets to hold over his ears. He has an afternoon shift, so there's no reason for him to be up at...he reaches a hand out to feel for his phone on his nightstand, blindly swiping around until he gets a hold of it. No reason for him to be up at, 9:08AM. He can feel his eyes watering from looking at the screen, everything is too bright and he doesn't deserve this torture. He tries to burrow back under his covers, ignore all the sounds and try to go back to bed, but alas his mind is already awake and thinking about 500 things per second. There's no time to rest when he's thinking about his endless grocery list and at what point humankind will have to survive underwater. And most important of all, what the hell was Jinyoung doing in the living room?

As much as he laments getting up in the mornings, he should be the caring host and see what's got that cat's undies in a twist at 9 in the morning.


The closer he gets to the couch, all he hears are frustrated sighs and groans that sound suspiciously like “hyung.” Mark tries to muffle his laughter behind his fist, but it doesn't work, not when Jinyoung's head suddenly pops up from behind the couch and looks around until his irritated gaze lands on none other than Mark. He just holds his hands in surrender, it's none of his business he's just going to the kitchen, as signaled by his pointing towards the area. Jinyoung just glares and goes back to sighing into the phone.

Mark assumes it's Jaebum playing big brother, he can faintly hear the elder cat's voice through the phone. (Something else he probably picked up from Jackson.)

“No you don't need to come over.”

“Please just let me go back to sle—”

“Yes, I'm sure you don't need to come over.”

“Yes, I'm safe and warm and no, nothing bad happened.”

“Hyung, no.”

“Ugh, bye grandpa, I'll call you later.”

“Don't you dare come over! Don't hang up on me, you—”

There's a frustrated huff from the couch and Mark snorts.

“I heard that,” Jinyoung yells.

“Good morning,” Mark laughs, walking over to sit on the armrest by Jinyoung's feet. He glances at the cat burrito over his glass of water; a scowl in place of his usual smile. He looks tired and cranky, and this time Mark just laughs in his face. Jinyoung tries to kick Mark off the armrest.

“Aren't you usually the early riser?” He grins, nudging the offending foot away.

“It's still raining,” Jinyoung groans, throwing the blanket above his head so only his ears are visible, and turns to curl inward toward the back of the couch. “If the sun's not up, neither am I. Now go away.” The rest comes out muffled, but Mark gets the general gist of it.

“Wow, cute,” he comments, hopping off the couch to quietly sneak to the other end where Jinyoung's head is. He gets another muffled reply, but it sounds more like a grunt than words, so he doesn't ask Jinyoung to repeat it. Mark reaches out a hand and daringly sneaks under the blanket to ruffle the hybrid's hair.

He runs before Jinyoung sits up, covers thrown off and an irritated yowl following the fleeing blond.

“How's an omelet for breakfast?” Mark shouts from the safety of his own room. He hears Jinyoung moving around on the couch, muttering things he can quite catch, probably bad things about him and Jaebum. A few snickers escape him as he presses himself to the door frame, waiting for Jinyoung's reply.

“You don't even have eggs,” comes the response.

“Oh,” he says to himself quietly. Jinyoung's right. He forgot about that.

“Wanna go out then?” He shouts back. The rain never bothered him, and maybe they could share an umbrella like couples in the dramas did. He's about to offer to pay, try and bribe Jinyoung off the couch, but has no chance to when Jinyoung yells back an answer.

“I expect flowers and chocolate first!” Jinyoung's laughter rings through the apartment, ringing in his ears as he sinks to the ground with his red face in his hands. He grins, looking way happier than anyone should on a rainy morning. Jinyoung's laughter is apparently infectious, Mark finding himself laughing along, sitting on the floor and smiling like he won the lottery.

Hopefully Jinyoung's not joking, because well, there's a flower shop right next to work.
 

so i drafted/unlisted the story for like a little over two months or whatever and my reasons are my own and if i choose to again i would appreciate no one asking what happened to it/if there was a way they could find it

and another thing like i appreciate whatever number of readers do actually take the time to comment, but i'd appreciate if no one, for future reference, say anything about the timeliness of updates please. these are pretty much all stand alone /one shots/ and not some sequential chaptered fic where there are cliffhangers and etc so i really have no obligation to update regularly???? i mean yeah i'd love to be able to write one shots regularly but i don't so yeah

just fyi

anyway yeah here's hopefully a decent follow up to the other catboy au in ch9! sorry for the lack of romance lmfao they just like to have fun

man i wish there was a way i could hide the number of views from myself