All Mark wants in life is to be able to go home and relax after a long day of dealing with boring classes and endless hours of human interaction for money. (Okay he didn't mean for it to sound like that kind of job, but seriously. If anyone deserved to get “serviced” it was him for all the bull he has to go through everyday. But that's another story for another time.) He wants to take off his pants and eat everything in his fridge until he feels something other than the pain in his feet from standing too long. He wants to take a long hot shower and forget about the world. And most of all, he wants to sleep his life away in his extremely comfortable, extremely soft bed.

So when he returns to his apartment one Friday evening after work, he lets his bag drop to the floor by the door and slips off his shoes, eager to end his day. He just wants to get into clothes that don't cling to him and make it difficult to bend his knees, and maybe walk around in his underwear for a while until it stops being so hot. Mark pushes the door to his bedroom open—he doesn't remember closing it, but then again all he remembers at the moment is how to make strawberry smoothies—only to take a step back and close it again.

“I must be going crazy,” he mumbles to himself, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Because there is no way the lump on his bed was another person. An unknown person that broke into his apartment just to sleep—what he should be doing right now, not to mention. There is no way his life is some messed up version of the Three Little Bears.

He counts to three and slowly pushes the door open.

Mark makes his way towards his bed, carefully sliding across the floor with his socks, until he's standing over the mysterious lump. There's enough light from outside for him to see a rough outline; definitely a person. What the hell does he do, he's standing above a possible criminal with nothing to defend himself except maybe the pillow on the other side of the bed. He thinks his alarm clock could probably knock a person out, eyeing said object sitting innocently on his bedside table.

This time he needs more than a quick count to three to psych himself up to do this, maybe a breathing exercise or five. He's never walked in on a stranger sleeping in his bed before. Mark tells himself it's going to be fine, his alarm clock is a good weapon if something happens, and the person probably won't even wake up. That way he'll be fine to call the cops without fear of getting murdered in his own bedroom. Alright. I got this.

He pulls the covers down barely enough to see the figure's face before he's (quietly) sprinting out the door, phone in hand already dialing a very familiar number.

“Jackson Wang you moron, don't project your kinks onto me!”



Mark's sitting on his couch with his head in his hands, trying to comprehend the situation. Jackson's the only person in the country that would know the code to his apartment, so he's the only one that could've let the other person in. Something Jackson admitted to earlier when he called in a fit of disbelief and panic, but Mark was proud of his detective skills nonetheless. Unfortunately that was all Jackson admitted to before he had to hang up and finish work, not before Mark made him swear to explain everything to him.

So Mark's waiting. His phone is sitting on top of his table, doing absolutely nothing and not lighting up. He's still in his outerwear, something he couldn't change even if he wanted to, what with the guest he has in the bedroom.

“What the hell. What the hell Jackson,” he growls aloud as he types the words on his phone, deciding to show his displeasure through spamming the younger man with text messages. It's only when he glances at the top of the screen he realizes how late it's getting, and how much he really wants to shower.

Not even five minutes passed, but Mark didn't care. It's practically an unspoken rule that best friends are to be available 24/7 for each other for whatever reason, be it dire or mundane. This is one of the former. He's in the middle of his maybe fifteenth text in the past three minutes when his screen switches to one of the many unattractive photos he has of Jackson, and for once he's glad to see it.

Not wasting anytime in pressing the answer button, he uses the loudest whispering tone he can muster, “Jackson Wang you so dead!”

“Oh just the same old, getting kicked in the shins by a bunch of little brats but it's nothing I couldn't handle. And how was your day, my best-o friend-o?” The sarcasm was dripping out of Mark's phone and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at how dramatic the younger man was.

“I'm sure you'd love to hear about my day,” he hisses back, keeping a hand over his mouth as he made his way to the bathroom, “Had to deal with people that took fifteen years to make a single coffee order, but you know I it up! Cause I was waiting for the moment I could clock out and get back to my apartment, my nice EMPTY apartment where I could throw myself onto my bed ALONE and sleep.”

“O...kaaaaaay,” the other man drawls out, “that's nice, Mark. I'd like to do that too, but here you are calling me thus preventing me from doing it too. Why are you dragging me into your loneliness?”

Mark could smell the bull seeping through the speakers; he bets Jackson's staring at the sky like nothing's wrong and avoiding the topic because he knows. He would bet his life that Jackson knows what exactly the problem is.

“Jackson,” he's not going to keep letting him play dumb.

“Mark, buddy, look if you want company all you had to do was ask—though I'm not sure Jaebum would be up for a three—”

“Jackson, I swear to God,” Mark grits his teeth and drags a hand over his face, “But since you brought up company, maybe you'd like to explain why I have company in my bed?!”

“Oh.” He waits for an explanation, sitting on the edge of the tub and toeing at his floor mat. When there isn't one, Mark feels his patience begin to run out, he didn't want to deal with this. (He just wants to shower and sleep in peace, without an unidentified person in his home.)

“Well you see,” Jackson's voice interrupts before Mark could release the pent up frustrations of his day. “Uh. Surprise?”

“What.”

“LOOK, as your FRIEND, best friend actually, I was looking out for you!” Mark massages his temple and tells himself to not yell at Jackson, not to yell or threaten bodily harm or potentially destroy his bathroom, but he's not Superman. He can't resist that temptation.

“I'm going to kill you,” he says, finally getting up and walking out of the bathroom. There's no need to keep his voice down when the conversation's over. “I'm revoking all best friend rights and T.V access.”

“Hey be reasonable! Your t.v is like god-sent, honestly, and meant to be shared with people!”

“You let a complete stranger into my apartment, and all you had to say for yourself was “surprise.” I'm pretty sure I should be reporting you to the police or something,” Mark sighs and stops in front of his bedroom door, not sure if he wants to go in or not. Jackson didn't provide much help; just dumped another load of problems onto his plate. How could this happen to him.

“He's not a stranger, I swear!”

“So you know him then?” Mark decides no, and goes back to the couch. Now that the rage was mostly drained out of his system, he can probably keep his voice down.

“Uh. Jaebum does?”

“I'm going to push you into traffic,” he huffs into the phone before hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere on the couch beside him. His hands go up to cover his face, pressing down on his eyes as if the pressure would somehow wake him up from this “dream.” Mark groans, he groans loudly and unabashedly, balancing his elbows on his knees.

I should've grabbed clothes before I bolted out of there, but it's not too late, I could still do it and my couch isn't that bad it's sleepable, I can just tiptoe in and—

The bedroom door begins to creak open and Mark's afraid to look up.

“Oh, you're back,” a yawn, “Do you have any milk?”






That's how he ends up sitting on the couch with a considerable amount of space between him and one Park Jinyoung quietly sipping a glass of milk. Mark tries not to make it obvious that he's staring at the other, glancing out of the corner of his eye and then back to his hands in his lap. Of all the things he thought could've happened to him tonight, this wasn't even close to what he imagined.


Mark hadn't responded when he heard the other voice, his eyes wide beneath his palms and his heart beating fast in his chest.

“Um,” he heard the floorboards creak, and imagined the other shifting their weight from one foot to the other, “Are you okay...?”

The voice sounded hesitant and there weren't any other signs of movement, which made Mark feel a little better about not being in a room with a possible serial murderer. He tried to relax his heartbeat, but still didn't dare to look up. Why was he so nervous? Was it the fact that he could possibly be brutally murdered or that this was obviously a ruse by Jackson to “lighten up and get out more?” (Bother were equally disastrous.)

“Yeah,” he breathed out, beginning to stand from his position of being an unresponsive lump hunched over on the couch. As he was, Mark made sure his body was turned away from his guest—how embarrassing would it be if they saw the clear panic and nervousness on his face. If the other thought anything was strange, he didn't say anything. As he grabbed a cup off the drying rack, he thought to himself how stereotypical it was to ask for milk. It almost, almost, brought a small smile to his lips.

“They said you were quiet, but I wasn't expecting dead silence,” he heard the other say, but not the sounds of anything else. Maybe they liked standing.

A bit of milk sloshed out of the glass onto his table, but Mark could get to that tomorrow morning. It wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. (He, however, had to—guest to entertain and such.)

“Here,” he mumbled, handing the glass to the other. He bit his inner cheek to keep his face in check, not wanting to express his surprise with how the other had moved from his bedroom door to the couch so quietly. It probably would've added to the sly smirk on their face Mark accidentally caught a glimpse of when he looked up. In all honesty, Mark just didn't want to stare.

“So you can talk,” the other mused. But was promptly met with more silence.


The recollection of the past ten minutes didn't help him at all, it just showed how absolutely nothing happened and how social awkward he was and still is. Only now he can't bury his face in his hands like before. At some point the other had introduced himself, and Mark had so skillfully replied with his own name. That was the last time either of them spoke. Mark sneaks another glance at the man(?) beside him. Unconsciously his eyes trail up his side profile (past a very cute nose, he notes to himself) to the soft looking ears perched atop the stranger-not-stranger's head. Black, or a very dark brown, in color to match his hair; as well as the tail that Mark hadn't notice until he felt something brush his leg briefly.

A hybrid, a cat hybrid. Sitting in the middle of his living room, previously sleeping in his bed. Mark really didn't want to stare, and curses to himself for throwing his phone to the other side of the couch where Jinyoung is sitting. He could really do with some angry texting right now. And as cute as catboy? catman? hybrid, he finally settles on, Mark really can't be bothered to do anything now. He holds in a yawn and runs a hand over his eyes.

Plus Jackson knows he's a dog person! Just because the younger is absolutely head-over-heels for his own cat hybrid did not mean he had the right to just...just toss someone into his life like that! (Mark likes to think he's old fashioned; starting off as friends and then maybe flowers and a date, and then getting to the point of living together, etc. Not that he's expected to date Jinyoung or anything like that, but still.)

When he glances over again, Jinyoung is suddenly a lot closer and staring right at him.

“What are you doing?” he manages to say without stumbling over his words. All those years of acting nonchalant in every situation imaginable paid off, but that makes it sound like he's been preparing for this particular encounter with this cat hybrid all his life. And it's not like that at all, seriously. Mark watches Jinyoung watch him, blinking curiously at him.

“Being stared at feels pretty strange, huh?” The comment makes color rise to his face and look away, coughing lightly into his fist.

“Sorry,” he says, slumping down in his seat. Well, looks like he's busted.

“I would've thought that you'd ask me why or how I'm here right now,” Jinyoung laughs and Mark can hear the smile on his face, “but instead you're just acting shy.”

“Well I am pretty tired and maybe not in the right state of mind right now,” he shoots back before he realizes what he's said. He got busted for staring and now he doesn't have to care about appearances in his own home; something along those lines. “I just really want to shower,” he whines.

Jinyoung laughs again and leans back into the couch. Mark watches as he runs his finger idly around the rim of the empty glass, round and round and round and he's getting sleepy.

“I guess Jackson was right,” he begins to say, Mark's attention instantly on him, “You are kind of cute.”

Mark can't control the eyeroll that follows, leave it to Jackson to make up facts. “I should call the police on both of you, spreading false information...and I guess breaking into my apartment.” The latter should be more important, but joking around like this feels easier than being defensive, especially when Jinyoung is maybe friends with Jackson and not some stray the other picked up from the streets.

The hybrid smiles, his eyes disappearing into fine lines and his ears twitching cutely, and places the glass on the table. “Could your really call the cops on this face?” He asks, curling his hand into a fist like a faux-paw and holding it next to his cheek, giving Mark the picture perfect image of a cat hybrid.

“Didn't you say I was the cute one a few minutes ago,” he waves the attempt at being cute off.

“Please,” Jinyoung says, his voice dropping and suddenly closer than Mark likes, “between you and me , do you really think you're cuter?”

He makes the bad decision of looking at Jinyoung, catching the other bite his lip and stare up at him through his eyelashes. It makes him feel some sort of way, and his first reaction, unfortunately, is to slump over the armrest and cover his very warm face.

“Aughhhhh,” he wails. Jinyoung just laughs, tail swishing lazily behind him.






“Holy ,” is the first thing that leaves his mouth when he walks out of his bedroom the next morning, half awake and vision blurry. Jinyoung looks up from whatever he's doing at the table, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. But really, all Mark sees is a lump with two pointy bits at the top with a white block somewhere where Jinyoung's mouth is supposed to be.

“Good morning,” the cat hybrid says cheerfully, like he lives there.

“I wasn't hallucinating,” he says more to himself than Jinyoung. “Uh, good morning,” he adds quickly, not wanting to come off as impolite. Mark thought he had dreamed the entire thing up, school and work and accumulated stress made him conjure up a catboy of all things—what did that say about him? A question Mark didn't want to dwell on for too long, to be honest.

He can hear Jinyoung hum while he makes his way to the bathroom, mind still hazy. He should be more alarmed, or at least alert, because hallucinations shouldn't be real. There's no way Jackson is really that big of a moron to be breaking into his apartment and dumping a cat hybrid in his lap. Mark vaguely remembers a hush hush phone call and mountains of angry texts, but he's sure he dreamed that up. (He hasn't checked his phone; he thinks he left it on the couch when he 100% stumbled into bed after getting back from work.)

So Jinyoung's definitely not sitting in his kitchen, he's obviously not real at all.


“Oh my god,” he exclaims, falling back on the frame of the bathroom door when he sees Jinyoung now watching some cartoon on his couch. Having just taken a nice relaxing shower that woke him up, there's no possibility of his eyes playing tricks on him. “Last night really happened,” he moans to himself, slapping a hand over his forehead and mumbling to himself more than speaking to Jinyoung.

“Are you coming down with something,” the latter asks, turning his body to drape over the back of the couch. “You act like you got drunk and broke the law or something. Cheer up! It's a Saturday!” He sounds amused at Mark's despair.

“You're not supposed to be here and Jackson's not supposed to be supreme idiot of the world,” Mark laments and walks over to quickly grab his phone, ignoring the easy smile on Jinyoung's face. The cat hybrid retreats back to his seat, curled by the armrest with one of the pillow cushions held captive in his arms, unaffected by Mark's complaints. (He certainly didn't act like a murderer, Mark thinks, so it's cool for now. For now.)

He leaves Jinyoung alone and walks into the kitchen, deciding he wants some pancakes for breakfast—honestly, bless his mother for sending him pancake mix, among other things. He places his phone on the table in speaker mode, waiting for Jackson to pick up the phone. There's an empty glass in the sink that Mark rinses it out quickly, and makes a note to buy more milk.

“Do you know what time it is?” a groggy voice flits through the speaker. He almost sounds like Mark himself, with how deep his morning voice is.

“Time for you to get up,” Mark says through the sounds of pots being moved around so he can find his frying pan. Sweet syrupy goodness to come soon. “I'm not finished with you yet.”

“Whoa there, Jaebummie's right here, I don't want a part of your sick fantasies,” the younger man replies and Mark imagines Jackson's face on the base of his pan as he pours oil onto it.

“Hi Jaebum hyung!” Jinyoung yells from the living room. Right, the cat hybrids know each other, Mark thinks as he vaguely recalls last night's brief conversation.

“Is that Jinyoung?” Jackson says before Mark has a chance to come up with a witty comeback. Which is unfortunate, but Mark is drawing a blank so it passes. He hears things rustling on the other side, a sign that maybe Jackson's getting up.

“Shouldn't you know, you're the one that brought him here,” Mark answers him, pouring the mixed batter into the pan, and backing away when the oil sizzles harder. Jinyoung doesn't say anything, or he's too engrossed in what looks like a segment on dolphins.

“You don't sound mad and you didn't kick him out, so I'm gonna assume you're cool with him. Or cool with him if you know what I mean,” and Mark doesn't know who he'd rather throw off a bridge, Jackson or himself. He doesn't even need to see the other man to know he's wiggling his eyebrows.

“You're an idiot,” and he's not going to play the game of suggestive comments Jackson always seems to start, “and I'm not an , I wouldn't kick someone out when it's dark out.”

“Well it's light now and he's still there, so he's yours forever! I knew you'd like him,” the other says way too chipper to have woken up only a few minutes ago. Mark flips his browning pancake over to the other side, briefly wondering if he should make eggs too. He's hungrier than usual today.

“You make it sound like Jinyoung's a pet.”

“You're on first name basis, how precious! Match made in heaven, you hear me?”

“Jackson,” he says sternly to get the other man's mind back on track.

“Okay, okay, just relax! How about I come over in a few and we can talk this out instead of on the phone?” There's more rustling and what sounds like a faint hiss in the background. Mark sighs, that's probably a good idea.

“Yeah, fine. I'll see you in a bit then,” he says, putting the finished product on his plate and preparing another pancake. The only upside of his day so far are the pancakes.

“Later!”

He really should be more worried.


Twenty minutes later and a short stack of pancakes gone, Mark finds himself on the couch with Jinyoung watching a rerun of some music show from yesterday. He doesn't really care much for them, sure some songs are super catchy and he'll catch himself humming along when he's at work, but he's not invested enough to actually know who is who. That isn't to say he's not completely captured by the flashy outfits some of the idols have on.

He's absentmindedly bobbing his head to—who is this? Infinity?—whatever and whoever is singing right now when Jinyoung speaks.

“You could probably join one of those groups.”

“What?” Mark says incredulously, trying to understand where that comment came from. As far as he knows, he hasn't done anything in the past twelve hours that they've known each other to give Jinyoung any idea that he was idol material.

“That blond hair makes you look like you're part of some up and rising boy group,” he snickers behind a fist, “plus, I guess you have the face for it.”

“Jackson's blond too!” Mark huffs, turning away from the catboy. “What makes you think I can sing or dance anyway?!”

His mood seems to only make Jinyoung laugh harder; he's bent over himself and his tail is moving excitedly.

“You two could make a group! Call yourselves the, hm..” Jinyoung calms himself down enough to say, a finger coming up to tap at his chin. Mark notices his ears twitch every now and then, and he's not going to lie, it's pretty cute that it just happens like that. The hybrid is still thinking of an awful name, Mark's going to assume, so he prays Jackson shows up soon.

“Well I don't know enough about you to come up with something, and a name like Canine Guy wouldn't be too popular,” and Mark tunes out the rest of the sentence and explanation, because what? Canine guy? He brings a hand up to cover his mouth as he runs his tongue over his teeth, there's nothing wrong with having some prominent canines...Was that Jinyoung's first impression of him?

“...But anyway, it doesn't even look too hard,” Mark turns back to the hybrid just in time to catch him curling his fist into a paw and body waving in his seat. (He's not going to admit to anyone, but if anyone should be an idol, it should probably be Jinyoung after seeing his moves. And maybe that the display made his mouth go dry.)

“I’ll walk over to you like a cat,” he sings, bursting into laughter at the end. “Only I am a cat! Well, half anyway.”

“Uh,” Mark intelligently contributes.

“You could do it if you tried,” he says enthusiastically, winking at Mark. A little fang peeks out when Jinyoung smiles and he inwardly swoons. That's when he realizes it; the reason why Jackson has Jaebum.

So cute!

When Jinyoung turns back to the t.v, a lazy grin on his face and legs folded beside him, taking up half of his couch, Mark's stare remains on him. He's seen cat hybrids before, interacted with them—Jaebum being the first that comes to his mind for obvious reasons, and the the boy that occasionally comes into the Starbucks he works at—but he's never found himself staring as much like he is with Jinyoung. (After all, they are people too, and he grew up with his mother telling him staring is rude.)

He's especially fascinated by the other's ears; the black of the fur blended well with the black of Jinyoung's hair, both looking extremely soft. He wonders if it's as soft as it looks; he's reminded of a teddy bear his dad got him for Christmas when he was a kid. Mark named it Bear, thinking he was clever, but he did honestly love that bear. Its fur was so soft and sleeping with it next to his face was so relaxing and nice and petting it gave him such a soothing effect and it was the best. So it was devastating when his mom threw it in the washer and dryer, ruining that soft fur. Bear was reduced to a bundle of scratchy rough sadness.

Thinking back on his childhood friend, Mark can practically feel that silky smooth fur, running his fingers through the short strands. He remembers the cute little nose, and the round eyes, and how red it was...

Red? Bear wasn't red—he blinks out of the weird daze he was in, shaking his head. What Mark fails to realize before the fact that he was reminiscing his childhood is that at some point during his sweet nostalgia, his hand had reach over and started, well, petting.

Jinyoung's face is beet red, his bottom lip between his teeth and keeping his eyes in front of him. Mark's hand stills, his expression morphing into one of horror, red creeping up his face to match the hybrid's.

“I'm so sorry,” he exclaims, pulling his hand off quickly and standing up. Good job Mark, good job on being a creep and petting the catboy. Oh my god.”I didn't mean too, I didn't realize what I was doing, I just—oh my god. I'm so so so so—”

He almost sighs in relief when there's a loud knock on the door, distracting the both of them from the incident at hand. Not that Mark didn't want to apologize, he's just..just completely, utterly, mortified at himself.

“Hey, open up!”

“You should get that,” Jinyoung says, voice muffled behind his hands. Mark is torn between getting on his knees and banging his forehead on the floor as an apology, and throwing the memory out of his mind and answering the door. Unfortunately he compromises, throwing a hurried “sorry” over his shoulder as he rushes over to open the door. Mark hopes his face isn't red anymore.

“I'm here!” Mark moves to the side, away from the door as soon as he unlocks it, knowing Jackson's tendency to push it open further despite it being open already.

“It's been a looong time since you invited me here,” the shorter male grins strolling into Mark's kitchen and cracking open the refrigerator.

“You were here last night,” Mark says, rolling his eyes and going over to slam the fridge shut.

“Yeah well, there's a difference between being invited and showing up, isn't that right Jaebum?” He hadn't realized Jackson's hybrid had tagged along—not that Jaebum faded into the background or anything like that, if anything he commanded attention—but usually the quiet hybrid had better things to do than follow his best friend around.

“Mhm,” the catboy halfheartedly agreed. “Where's Jinyoung?”

Ah, that's why.

“Over the—” Mark begins to say, turned towards the couch he abandoned and where Jinyoung is still situated, or at least he thought the hybrid was.

“Hyung!” All he registers is a blur of black and white launching itself at the now surprised Jaebum. It happens before Jackson can remove himself from Jaebum's side, so he ends up feeling the force of Jinyoung's tackle too. The display leaves Mark wondering just why Jackson decided to take one of Jaebum's friends and leave him in his house. (Maybe he really was projecting his kinks...he'll ask Jackson in private later.)

“Jinyoung,” the taller cat coos, patting the aforementioned catboy on the head lightly. The younger of the two grins and nuzzles his nose against Jaebum's; Mark's seen his old neighbor's kittens do that once, and figures it's a cat thing.

Jackson fake vomits in the background.


The four of them are sat around Mark's coffee table, Mark and Jinyoung are back where they were before, the only exception being Jinyoung's upper body draped over Jaebum's lap, who is sitting on the armrest beside him. Meanwhile Jackson's in the lone armchair looking quite put off. Mark laughs, giving his best friend's knee a few good pats. Karma, .

The two cat hybrids seem pretty close, talking in hushed tones and a giggle here and there. He even has to rub his eyes to make sure he's seeing correctly, did Jaebum just playfully headbutt Jinyoung? Mark didn't even think the elder cat had it in him to be, dare he say it, downright adorable. Jinyoung on the other hand, Mark figures is the more affectionate one with the way he's always touching Jaebum in someway, and that hug-tackle from before. It makes him wonder if they were closer would he act like that around him too? Wait, okay, rewind, stop that train of thought right now.

He clears his throat, looking away from Jaebum pinching Jinyoung's cheek. Mark turns back to Jackson, who suspiciously looks like he's taking pictures of the two catboys.

“What..what are you doing..” Mark leans over slightly towards Jackson to whisper, angling his head back to maybe see if he's really doing what he thought he was doing.

“You have eyes, what does it look like I'm doing?” Jackson replies, not missing a beat. Well, someone drank some vinegar today. Mark slumps back in his seat and huffs.

“Don't pout, it makes your face even grosser than it already is,” the other man says, not looking up from his phone. Jackson's busy tapping away at his phone's camera button, and Mark bets he's even taken a video or two.

“I regret letting you come over,” he rolls his eyes and decides to wait until Jackson puts his phone down to start talking again.

Or on second thought...

“Alright that's enough paparazzi man,” Mark says, plucking the phone out of his best friend's hands. “This is for your own good.” He places the phone on the far end of the table, far away from Jackson.

“Rude,” Jackson huffs and crosses his arms, adopting that put off expression again. Mark just sighs and pats him on the shoulder. A friendly pat on the shoulder that quickly turns into an iron grip that Jackson immediately tries to shrug off.

“Don't tell me it's taken like ten years for your clinginess to set in? Dude, it—”

“Don't even finish that thought.”

“What are you two doing?”

“Aren't they always like that?”

“That kind of generalization hurts, Jinyoungie.”

“Ew, don't call me that.”

“Don't start fighting.”

“At least someone here's still reasonable.”

“Hey!”

“Don't lump me in with that walking fashion disaster! (Hyung ah, how do you let him out like that?)”

Jaebum shrugs, a sheepish grin thrown at Jackson. Jinyoung just laughs. Mark watches Jinyoung laugh and lean into Jaebum, his mouth showing off his straight teeth and his eyes crinkled up into little crescent moons. Maybe it's suddenly not so bad to have around, and maybe where he came from didn't matter that much. Maybe.

But just in case, he should really make sure no one's a serial murderer.

“Okay, okay, settle down children. As much as it doesn't seem like it, you did come over for a reason,” Mark says, giving Jackson a pointed stare.

“Free food?”

Jackson holds up his hands in surrender at Mark's deadpan look.

“Do..you two need a moment?” Jinyoung hesitantly asks, eyes darting between the two blonds. “Cause JB hyung and I can leave while you two sort out your....issues.” Mark nearly chokes on his breath at what he thinks the hybrid is implying. And judging by the matching grins on the catboys' faces—at least Jaebum tries to cover it up with a cough, Mark will say it's the thought that counts—they know exactly what Jinyoung's words mean.

“Nah, Mark's not committed to the idea,” Jackson replies. The comment makes Jaebum reach a foot out and kick his arm off the armrest, looking a little flustered. Mark just rolls his eyes, thoroughly done and over his friend's taste in humor. He sneaks a peek at Jinyoung's reaction, and then has to bite his cheek to stop his face from betraying him. Jackson may let a lot of things fly over his head, but a wide grin on his face? Nah, he's not opening that door. But back to who actually matters, Jinyoung was biting his lip, stifling his laughter. He elbowed Jaebum, cracking up when the elder had swat him with his tail. He wouldn't have expected other people to laugh at the things Jackson says, but Mark figures if it makes Jinyoung laugh, maybe he could tolerate Jackson's jokes.

(Jinyoung added a lot of maybes in his life that Mark isn't sure where they came from. But maybe, he's not complaining.)


“So...” Jackson trails off, fiddling with his snapback. He doesn't glance at Mark, giving him the opening to start talking.

“So,” Mark continues, but he certainly does look over at his best friend. “Mind explaining what and why about last night?”

“I can't believe you invite friends over to interrogate them,” Jinyoung says offhandedly, idle hands playing with his tail. The small smirk on his face is quickly replaced with a pout when Jaebum not-so-lightly nudges his shoulder.

“Don't be rude,” he chides.

“Okay, grandpa,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes and gets up from the couch. Jaebum teasingly pulls on the younger's tail when he walks by, earning him a slap on the shoulder. Mark's eyes follow him into the kitchen until the he disappears, wondering what the sudden mood came from. When he hears the refrigerator door open, he understands.

“Someone looks smitten,” Jackson sing-songs. Even Jaebum looks a little amused, lounging on his couch's armrest, staring cooly at Mark.

“You have rose colored glasses on, I was just making sure he wasn't going to break anything,” he replies. He's not exactly lying, he would really hope Jinyoung wouldn't break anything, but Mark himself isn't sure what he's talking about. He's just curious.

“Who's gonna break what now?” Back in his seat is the cat hybrid, a carton of apple juice Mark didn't even know he had in his hand. (Okay, slap him for stereotyping, but he was sure a glass of milk was going to appear.) Jinyoung turns from Jaebum to Jackson, from Jackson to Mark, and back to Jackson. “What?”

“Wouldn't you like to know, now lemme have some of that,” the elder hybrid says, shifting a bit so he falls half of top of Jinyoung, with his legs hanging off the armrest. He holds down the hand that's swatting at him, the other reaching behind Jinyoung to grab at the carton.

“Get off, you heavy sack of crap hyung!”

The other two leave their cat companions alone, letting them (play) fight and yowl at each other over a juice box, having a heavily pushed back conversation to attend to.

“Jinyoung's a good guy you know,” Jackson says, following Mark into his dining room where Jaebum and Jinyoung's laughter is more muted.

“He could be the second coming of Jesus, but that's not what I'm asking.”

“You sure? Knowing you, you probably think Jinyoungie's some kind of psychopath,” Jackson snorts when Mark rolls his eyes. He knows he's right, and Mark knows it too.

“What am I supposed to think when he's suddenly in my apartment when I come home from work?” Mark retorts, not denying Jackson's claim or really admitting it.

“Appreciate the company! It's like meeting someone in a coffeeshop or something like that,” the younger waves Mark's concerns off, and if Mark rolls his eyes anymore he's pretty sure he's his eyes are going to roll out of his head.

“Yeah only I met him in my bed,” he pauses, catching the suggestive look Jackson is giving him, “You're gross, not like that. You know what I'm talking about.”

“Why can't you just relax and embrace having, you know, a breath of fresh air in your life?”

“Because you literally dumped another living human—half human being on me! And I can't even kick him out, I'd feel terrible!”

“Calm down, Mark. It's not like he's homeless or anything, but the point is that you didn't! You like him!” Mark groans at how excited Jackson looks, slowly beginning to accept how much his friend is pushing Jinyoung on him. But it's what he said before that gets his attention, head shooting up from behind his hands to look at Jackson, jaw slack.

“Wait, what? He's not homeless?”

“He lives like near the park or somewhere or other,” Jackson says shrugging, “Jaebum's the one that visits him and I have work, so yeah.”

“Ugh, why didn't you tell me that earlier,” Mark shoves Jackson's shoulder, kicking the leg of his chair for good measure. That little tidbit would've saved him a little bit of headache, scared that Jinyoung would've been left roaming the streets if he kicked him out last night.

“Just admit it, one night and you've bonded! You caaaaare about him and kept him cause you didn't want him to be homeless! Youuu caaaaaaare!” Jackson's holding his sides, but unfortunately not his laughter. His cackling surprisingly doesn't garner any attention from the living room, catching Mark's attention. The volume of Jackson's voice would make anyone turn heads, or at least peek into the dining room. He gives him trying to cover Jackson's big mouth, sighing and getting up to check on the two other occupants in his living room.

What he sees makes him want to grab his phone.

Because, really, is there anything more heartwarming than two cat [hybrids] laying cuddled together on the floor? And, please help he's been shot through the heart, is that low purring floating through the air? It's incredible they managed to fall asleep despite Jackson in the vicinity, and it's the same reason Mark didn't hear anything from them before. It's a little weird for seeing two seemingly grown men to be "cat napping" on his living room floor like that, but...but they're so cute! He's vaguely aware of Jackson coming over to stand beside him, or that Jackson is bringing out his phone camera again, Mark is just overwhelmed with extremely fluffy and light feelings.

"Send me that later," He whispers, not taking his eyes off the napping hybrids. His whisper shocks Jackson, if the little jump is anything to go by. The younger replies by patting him on the shoulder, the light smile on his face gone unnoticed by Mark. (Maybe he had it bad, maybe he's taken a liking to Jinyoung. Maybe.)

It's when Jaebum suddenly shifts closer to Jinyoung Jackson moves from his spot.
"Nope, nope that's enough time to go home!" He half says, half whispers, taking big steps to get to the center of the living room, hauling his cat hybrid up by under the arms. Mark tried to stop him before he walked past the couches, warn him that maybe waking them up wouldn't be a good idea, but it was too late. His hand is outreached in a weak attempt to stop the younger man, but Jaebum is unfortunately awake at this point.

His usually sharp eyes are still dulled by sleep, but even Mark can see the beginnings on annoyance form behind those eyes.

"Jackson," the hybrid practically hisses, by the man isn't having any of it. Mark wants to hide behind his hands, but at the same time he wants to see Jaebum punch Jackson. (He checks to see if Jinyoung is still asleep, and thankfully he is, bless his innocent kitty soul.)

"It's time to go home now where you can sleep in a nice comfortable bed and not on the floor!" Jackson whines, sounding like he's pleading with Jaebum rather than talking to him. It's a little funny how bad he's got it. It's apparently not just one sided, with the way the now standing on his own Jaebum is staring back fondly at Jackson, even if Jaebum ends up scoffing and rolling his eyes at his best friend's dramatics.

It takes them a forever to finally leave, but not before Jackson winks at Mark fifty times. "Have fun!" He runs away, tugging on Jaebum's hand before Mark can shove him out the door.

When his apartment is quiet again, he sighs and turns back to Jinyoung. He's still napping soundly on the floor, still purring softly. Mark doesn't have the heart to leave him there, but he doesn't want to disturb him either, but the floor can't be that comfortable. He sighs again and walks over to where Jinyoung's head is. He has a hand curled under his cheek and if Mark looks closely enough he can see his fangs peeking through when Jinyoung exhales. He squats down and brings a hand to lightly pet his hair, not able to help himself. It brings a small smile to his face when Jinyoung's purring gets louder, and his ear twitches; cute.

Mark wonders if Jinyoung would maybe want to stay a while.
 

the image that started me on this downward spiral because i mainly lack self control

yeah the title is a pun just end me
ngl this is crap and i've had it for a longass time and just wanted to finish it so whateVER dont mind the deteriorating story telling ha.. if you don't like the actual word vomit enjoy the picture now i gotta lay down and not get up for like fifty years because no one appreciates catboyjjp like i do

and a note: i dont reply to comments very often but i do appreciate them a lot, since you take the time to read and say something nice!