There are times when Mark likes to believe he’s completely over the phase of perceived angsty, hormonal teenage romance, and that he’s a mature twenty-one year old completely capable of making logical, sensible decisions regarding his love interests.

Which is mostly true. He works a sensible job on the side to help pay off his college loans, studies hard, calls his parents, and makes sure he waters all his plants (but that could just be his heritage speaking). He also has several nice hobbies like tricking and eating excessively sweet desserts and spoiling his boyfriend, Choi Youngjae.

Which is all good, really, it is. Except for the fact that, you know, Youngjae is kind of a vampire.

But overall, Mark Tuan is an extremely sensible twenty-one year old capable of making his own rational decisions. Really.

*

To have the humans know about something like this would be disastrous- Twilight would probably be banned for blasphemy and Supernatural would be hailed as religious works. And while the hilariously incorrect excuses for literature involving the so-called “supernatural” population would finally be put to rest, it’s undeniable that these misconceptions serve them well, that humans continue to view their kind this way.

(a.k.a it makes the hunting wonderfully easy.)

In the meantime, there’s nothing left to do but live exceptionally normal (read: dull) lives amidst their notably more exciting feeding habits. Like college, for example. At first glance the institution Mark’s enrolled in may seem completely normal, but all it takes is walking by a vending machine selling blood bags alongside wholemeal tuna and lettuce sandwiches to know that something’s very, very different about this place.

But this is what they’ve all come to know as normalcy. In fact, Mark’s parents had taken pains to send him somewhere he could interact with other species after kindergarten (the supernatural community took globalisation very seriously- most of their advertisements consisted of stuff like kitsunes skyping with sirens over coffee) and while the downsides of all these forced interactions are plain troublesome sometimes (you try putting a teenaged werewolf and a vampire in one classroom and conducting a lesson), the benefits are rather stellar.

(Mark can testify excellently to this.)

On Mark’s part, he didn’t exactly realise he might even like Youngjae properly until severely post-maturely, meaning about two weeks after Youngjae’s confession, when Mark caught himself using the money he’d been saving for his weekly tub of Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk® ice cream on a premium vitamin blood bag because Youngjae had failed a section of his mid-terms and needed comforting (but that’s a whole other story, really). He’d put it off to the assumption that his kind take relationships very seriously, but there’s a whole other spectrum of reasons, really.

See, vampires have a sort of hierarchal superiority by nature, in the workplace, in high school, etcetera, especially in the supernatural dominated industries. Something to do with the fact that they can you dry (and not in the good way) if you aren’t nice to them. Whatever. Also the fact that out of all the so-called supernatural population, they’re the species most popular with the humans (thank you, Stephenie Meyer), while types like Mark are left forgotten in 1800s Irish history.

So think of vampires as that group of well-dressed, noisy kids at the cool table during lunch break with people that everyone low-key crushes on at one point or another in their college life. It probably helps that good looks apparently run in their genes. And Mark is so over that, really, he is. Because who’s got the energy for a time-consuming, high-maintenance relationship that’s bound to end badly, anyway? Mark’s always preferred the quieter side of life, if he’s to be honest.

But something’s off, wrong, almost, about Youngjae. Most vamps are deceptive, kind of snobbish, convinced that they own whatever ground they step on, and while Youngjae no doubt holds several of these traits (the way he claims Mark’s bed whenever he sleeps over is evidence enough) they’re mostly offset by how cute he is.

And not even entirely in the physical way, because most vamps are cute (some natural selection thing to facilitate hunting of strong human breed, Mark can’t remember much from all those health ed classes in high school), but in the way he trips over flat ground, chews the end of his pen when he’s thinking, the way he can’t seem to, for the life of him, wake up on time in the morning.

So Youngjae’s an exception. And Mark’s all about exceptions.

Besides, it’s not like Mark’s prime choice either, anyway, so it’s not fair to dump all the blame for their odd match on him, really.

Fae can be scary as hell, don’t you know?

*

If Mark could gravely and bitterly list every trial and tribulation the two of them have faced as a couple under public scrutiny, he would, really. Except he can’t, because, well, people just can’t find anything to say.

Jackson and Jinyoung, now that’s a couple that people can talk about. Loud banter, louder arguments, and crazy loud make up (Mark can, most unfortunately, testify to this). They’re the hottest topic on the campus, everyone knows them when they see them, even if they don’t know who they are. But what can you expect of a werewolf and a vampire, honestly?

Vampires and fae, in all their extensive history, have, sad to say, never interacted. Fae tend to stick around woodlands, limit their interactions with humans to upsetting pots and pans and stealing children, while vampires literally need humans to survive. You don’t see fae and vampires in any history books (even their kind) chatting over coffee or striking business deals. They just don’t click. There had never been any spark, friendly or not, to start off any form of symbiosis between the two species whatsoever.

But then again, not many species interacted with fae. While they stayed away from vamps for obvious reasons, fae were unpredictable. Capricious. They screwed with you for the fun of it, and worst of all, their crimes weren’t exactly punishable. No one ever made a law against tying someone’s hair to the bed frame or knotting their shoelaces every time they tried to walk. Fae did those kind of things.

Of course, Unseelie fae were a whole lot worse, but Mark will have you know that he’s at least ninety-five percent sure he’s completely Seelie fae. Maybe. You never know when it comes to his dad, honestly.

(But then again there was that time he stole and hid all of Jackson’s underwear on various parts of the campus the first time his roommate didn’t let him sleep by bringing Jinyoung over, though, so maybe he’d make that ninety percent sure.)

It’s 2015, for crying out loud, though- sure, maybe cross-species couples might have had trouble a couple of decades ago, and some of the more conservative families would have something to say about it, but overall people are pretty cool with things now. So people don’t exactly support the relationship, but they’re not violently opposed to it either, and Mark supposes he should be grateful.

(As opposed to sneaking off to hide all their underwear, too, but only because Youngjae would scold him if he did.)

*

The first week after Youngjae’s cute Valentine confession in the form of a prettily handwritten note and a box of Mark’s absolute favourite pralines, they sit down to do what all responsible cross-species couples should do at the start of a new relationship.

Mark studies his phone, frowning at the list. Most of the things here are what he’s familiar with (again with vamps being hot property on the market), things like silver, stakes, direct sunlight, certain runes and wards. He makes a mental note to call in Bambam to help check him properly, because he knows his dad had, as per the norm, definitely had a sorcerer come cast some basic defence spells on him as a child.

“A lot of these weaknesses were reinforced by our ancestors to throw humans off about who we really were,” Youngjae explains. “It helped make easy prey. Sure we can’t be in direct sunlight, but shade light just makes us uncomfortable, and we’re pretty comfortable with indoor light.”

That’s universal, almost- misleading humans with certain weaknesses took their attention away from the more potent ones.

“Same, with the uh, bread,” Mark gestures indistinctly. He honestly had a particular liking for the milk varieties. “And the inside out clothing was honestly just because we wanted people to look funny.”

Youngjae giggles- it’s an earnest, sweet kind of sound, one that makes Mark’s heart melt in cheesy, unspeakable ways. Not many things can make a fae’s heart melt (other than creamy dairy products and sweets, but that’s a different story). Jinyoung, Youngjae’s roommate, rolls his eyes from the opposite bed, where he’s checking his (not non-existent, get with the times, they had sorcerers get rid of that ages ago) reflection, and Mark casts a warning eye in his direction that promises missing underwear if he isn’t careful.

“The running water’s real, though?” Youngjae blinks at the list. “How do you shower?”

“That one’s just for residence,” Mark wrinkles his nose. “The sound drives us crazy. It’s fine short-term, though, that’s why our dorms are on the side opposite that facing the rivers.”

Youngjae hums in understanding, annotating something on his list, and Mark returns to his phone. After running through Youngjae’s list again, something (or the lack thereof) catches his eye.

“Uhm,” he’s not exactly sure how to address this, but Youngjae looks up inquisitively anyway, from where he’s sprawled over his bed. “So uh, garlic-…”

Both Youngjae and Jinyoung bristle simultaneously.

“That’s a terrible misconception,” Jinyoung snaps imperiously, before returning to preening himself. “We’re fine with garlic. It’s just gross.”

“Yeah,” Youngjae sticks out his tongue, shuddering. “Who even eats garlic, anyway. It’s not like they have that in a lot of modern dishes.”

Mark very carefully shuts up about the list of garlic related foods that appear in his head at once, and discreetly adds garlic at the bottom of the list.

Meanwhile, Youngjae’s squinting at his list, before his eyes go round. “Wait, iron?”

It’s Mark’s turn to bristle. “Yes, iron.”

“Wait, but iron,” Youngjae gestures to the room. He points to the bed frame. “Iron?”

“That’s aluminium,” Mark says, trying not to sound impatient. It’s true that not many creatures even know much about fae, much less what they’re repulsed by- Jackson had had the same reaction when Mark politely brought up the issue, except Jackson’s an , so he spent a couple of lazy afternoons flicking iron staple bullets into Mark’s side of the room, for the fun of it.

Mark deliberately brought several different varieties of wolfsbane and rye into the room the day after that, and refused to throw them out until Jackson picked up every single staple bullet with his bare hands.

“Iron?” Youngjae points to his watch, a little helplessly. “Iron?” he points to his belt buckle.

“Stainless steel,” Mark explains. “Depending on the size of the object, only iron content of above a certain percentage-…”

“Iron?” Youngjae’s too distracted, looking around the room for more everyday objects to point at, and Mark sighs.

(So this was what his mother meant when she warned him against cross-species relationships.)

*

But despite the initial bumps in the relationship and Mark’s doubts that they’d survive past their first month together, he finds himself waking up, eight months later, with a koala (what vampire, honestly) wrapped around him like a scarf, dead to the world, realising that he can’t remember how he’d been living prior to this.

Youngjae mutters, drawing him closer, and Mark immediately snakes a hand under the younger boy’s shirt, prodding insistently at his navel until Youngjae snuffles, betrayed, in his sleep, and rolls over. He’d long learned that Youngjae was a persistent hugger, and that while faery bones were made for many things (long distance jumping, martial arts tricking, easily avoiding violent conflicts that they may or may not have started) they were not made for hugs of superhuman strength.

He rolls sleepily out of bed, going for the carton of milk he’d left on his desk the previous day, rubbing his eyes. He’s downed half of it, thinking about the avocado sandwich he’s going to treat himself to later in the day, when a shift of the sheets alerts him to the fact that Youngjae’s stirring awake, blinking blearily, dark blue hair soft and tousled against the white of the pillow.

Mark pauses wisely. He’s deduced that there are only two occasions on which Youngjae gets out of bed during daylight on Saturdays- (a) when there’s an earthquake about to shatter the world and deluge them all in lava and (b) when he’s hungry.

“Hyungggg,” Youngjae croaks, throwing a feeble hand out from underneath the blankets, rubbing at his eyes with the other, looking very much like a sleepy baby lamb bleating for milk. Mark feels oddly endeared. Option b, then.

“I spoil you too much,” Mark comments anyway, settling on the edge of the bed to take another sip from his carton, barely making a sound in a way that can only be afforded to centuries of a honed gene pool. “Why can’t you go down and get yourself a blood bag? Or just go back to your room and nab one before Jackson wakes up and decides he’s feeling .”

Vamp rooms were specially installed with mini-fridges, just like rooms with fae were installed with bathtubs. Exchanging roommates on nights like these was beneficial, mostly so Jackson and Jinyoung could have have their wild noisy somewhere away from Mark’s unfortunately sharp ears, but it was inconvenient whenever Youngjae got peckish. Which was almost all the time.

(That or extremely convenient, depending on how you look at it.)

Youngjae whines in protest, kicking out. “Pleaaaaase?”

“I don’t know,” Mark says, feigning disinterest as he picks up his phone. “I’ve got work later this afternoon, it wouldn’t do to have me show up all lethargic.”

“But hyung,” Youngjae pouts, well-used to this ritual by now. “You know I only want to taste you, don’t you?”

Mark leaves his phone at the foot of the bed with a put-upon sigh, then, before he climbs up, trying not to look pleased. “Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I’ll let you.”

Youngjae’s skin is cool but soft as he sits up, tugging the shirt over Mark’s head, fingers childishly eager, and Mark shivers at the way his fangs extend, bone white striking against the red of his lips. He’ll never understand this thing about vampires (or maybe just Youngjae), how they can be simultaneously adorable and life-threatening, but he supposes it’s something to do with the genetics again.

Then Youngjae’s head disappears below Mark’s line of sight and he feels the familiar pinprick of pain at the junction between his neck and shoulder, smothered quickly by the natural sedatives that shoot into his bloodstream at the same time, and he sighs, almost comfortable with the heady rush that accompanies it.

Mark doesn’t often think straight when Youngjae feeds on him, not when the secreted painkillers and the blood loss, however little, can leave him dazed for hours after the other boy’s finished with him, but now, head lolling back against the pillow, eyes lidded and a blissful smile tugging at the edge of his lips, the funny thought crosses his mind- if there’s one thing those stupid angsty teenage romance books hadn’t been wrong about, it’s this.

He knows it’s a result of evolution, pooling of all the right genes to attract and secure prey in the easiest way, but in crude terms it really just comes down to this- being drunk from feels really good.

*

But it isn’t all racy clichés and rainbows, really, because to see that as the picture of their relationship would be to put things in a sadly inaccurate light.

Mark likes to attribute this to the misfortune of having met their five friends and being forced (entirely against his will, really) into this odd inter-species college clique.

They have lunch together, all seven of them, sometimes. Even with the wide variety of different foods and drinks, they gel easily- they’ve grown up this way, of course. Parents of their kind prefer sending their children to schools like this, where they can be themselves. Mixing with humans isn’t only dangerous, it’s actually been proven to lead to certain forms of repressive disorders and identity crises with recent studies, and parents are concerned about these things nowadays.

It goes like this: Mark will arrive at the table with his vegetarian sandwich and milk or honey water first, because the veggie queue’s blessedly short, unlike those for the carnivorous peasants. Then Jinyoung and Youngjae will come together, comparing blood bags and having serious discussions about the different flavours and the health effects of having blood hot or at body temperature. Then Bambam appears with his lunch next, literally appears, because he’s a warlock, damnnit, one of the rare few in this area, and he’s going to do whatever he wants, be there an innocent vegetarian in his seat or not.

Mark will be halfway through his sandwich, watching Jinyoung and Bambam talk about the latest fashion trends and how unfortunate it is that a majority of animal shifters (those brutes, they’d say, regardless of any respective boyfriends) can’t go three days without accidentally stretching or tearing fabric, and hence have to resort to wearing the most hideous things, when Jackson arrives, followed by Yugyeom, both carrying their meat sandwiches or steaks. Jackson would be loud, Yugyeom yawning, both baring their teeth either way, and the rest of them would move aside to accommodate them, Mark grumbling about the size of Jackson’s and how it wouldn’t hurt to lay off the meat for one day.

The table would be packed just nice when Jaebum comes, always last, not because of the long queue, of course (it’s by default that the entire queue give way when he’s coming to take his food) but because he’s Head of the Prefects, the student defence organisation that keeps them under control, makes sure no species is being unfairly treated or lording over another, and there’s always one meeting or another keeping him occupied. Half the population thinks he’s a hero and the other half would dearly love to shove their fists down his throat, but either way he’s given a wide berth.

Not many individuals would have the balls to challenge the authority of an angel, anyway.

They’re dysfunctional, if Mark’s to be honest- Bambam has a habit of making people’s food come alive, Jackson’s either exchanging insults or spit with Jinyoung, Yugyeom has a penchant for stealing food (the extendable claws probably make it a lot easier for him), just for the fun of it, and Mark has to plead with Jaebum for him to just clear his throat, ensuring silence at the table at once. But when asked, Mark knows in a heartbeat that he wouldn’t have them all any other way.

(Besides, he has Youngjae, and that has a tendency to make him feel about 200% better about any situation, anyway.)

*

People have the tendency to underestimate fae.

It’s not their fault, really- not many folk are even aware that fae have a classification, much less their own exclusive abilities, and well, this just makes things a lot easier.

Some schools are species-specific, but the institution they’re in advocates cross-species interaction (which gives people like Jaebum their job, honestly), so most of the time they attend lectures in a huge hall like any other college, all almost shoulder to shoulder, regardless of species.

Most of them have long learned that starting conflict of any sort results in more trouble than it’s worth (again, Jaebum at his job), but then again it’s here that Mark discovers some people (especially the newer ones, especially those from single species schools) just never learn.

Mark’s trying not to drop off in one of those lectures that cut straight into the middle of prime time for siestas, Jackson shamelessly snoring on his left, entering stage one of unproductivity as he starts to doodle marzipan cupcakes and puppies on his notes, when he hears a snicker from a few columns somewhere on his right.

They’re one of those olden-style lecture halls with long, French windows obviously not designed by photo-sensitive architects (probably werewolves, Youngjae would wrinkle his nose and say), and in the late afternoon when the light starts to stretch in, it’s common courtesy to let the vampires and other light-affected species pick their seats first, away and out of the sunlight.

It’s the reason why Mark’s two rows behind Youngjae, squinting uncomfortably in a long orange beam of sunlight. He doesn’t pay attention to the laughter- probably some idiot kitsune (probably Minho) flirting again, instead focusing on sharpening out the edges of his puppy ears.

It’s only when a beam of very unnaturally placed light flashes by once that he looks up, frowning. He doesn’t get the hang of what’s happening until another flash of light comes by, this time landing directly on the bare skin of Youngjae’s arm and remaining there for a full second, prompting a yelp of pain, followed by the very obvious hiss of something burning and the sound of his papers hitting the floor.

Mark whips around, glaring- how dare anyone do that, didn’t they know how dangerous it was? At once, his eyes land on Song Yunhyung, some guy in their level who apparently thinks he’s hot as hell (probably to do with the fact that he’s an incubus), fighting hysterical giggles as he stows the mirror he’d been using to reflect the sunlight with quickly into his file.

His halo of friends are starting to laugh, too, and Mark can’t believe it when more people follow suit- Youngjae could’ve died, what’s there to laugh about? He returns his eyes to the younger boy, who’s gathering his papers, unable to look up, anger spiking when he sees the painful red sores dotting his arm where the beam had hit.

But instead of standing up and shouting insults across the hall like Jackson probably would’ve had it been Jinyoung instead of Youngjae, Mark merely straightens in his seat, cracking his knuckles quietly.

Karma can be a when it tries, doesn’t anyone know?

*

It’s a college legend, after that, passed on by word of mouth to every junior that sets foot in this place with increasing levels of ludicrousness.

By some of terrible luck, of course, every chair that Song Yunhyung sits in for the week after that promptly breaks. His stationery goes missing with almost tidy regularity, his notes are mysteriously messed despite constant attempts to arrange them, his clothes have holes in the most compromising of places, and he wakes up on three mornings with his hair tied to the bed frame. It’s horribly humiliating. Not the best of business for an incubus.

Mark’s lounging at the table with Youngjae, Jinyoung and Bambam, chewing idly on pear slices, when Yunhyung storms up, the cuff of one jacket flapping behind him rather pathetically.

“Alright, I’m sorry, bloodsucker, are you happy now?” he fumes, and Mark pointedly doesn’t look up. He can’t trust himself to keep a straight face if he does. “Now call off your crazy fae boyfriend and leave me alone, how does a guy breathe like this?”

Beside him, though, he can feel Jinyoung’s hackles rising- Yunhyung was obviously smart enough to confront them before Jaebum came, but Jinyoung can be no less scary when he tries.

“You’re one to talk, er,” Jinyoung says coolly. Yunhyung doesn’t flinch, though- he’s probably been called worse.

“Oh wow, that’s new, Park Jinyoung, sure never heard that one before,” he rolls his eyes. “Do you know I haven’t been able to feed since last week because of your stupid fae friend?”

“That’s dumb, Mark-hyung wouldn’t do things like that,” Youngjae frowns, and Mark remains wisely mute.

“All that blood obviously doesn’t feed any brains,” Yunhyung rolls his eyes, before turning the entirety of his furious gaze on Mark. “Look, I’m humiliated, I apologised, so stop it, okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark offers, with a pleasant smile. “But I’d watch out for those chairs for a lot longer if I were you.”

Yunhyung looks desperate, almost, for a moment, until a presence makes them all turn around by nature- Jaebum’s appeared at the table, raising a brow.

“What’s going on here?” he asks pointedly, in his tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth tone. “And Song Yunhyung, I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that stunt you pulled last week-…”

“Yes, suspend me, put it on my conduct, whatever, just call that fae off!” Yunhyung almost sobs, pointing straight at Mark.

Jaebum sends a warning look in Mark’s direction, to which Mark responds with a grumpy noise of assent, and Yunhyung cries out in relief, before fleeing the table, probably in fear of accidentally insulting Youngjae any further.

“You should take over my job,” Jaebum comments, once he’s seated and Yunhyung’s vanished to his table on the other end of the cafeteria, and Mark delicately plucks a lettuce leaf from his salad.

“No idea what you mean, Jaebum,” he says dismissively, rolling a cherry tomato in his lettuce leaf, and Jinyoung snorts.

Under the table, though, Youngjae catches his wrist, sending a worried glance his way, as if to say did you really?, to which Mark half-shrugs.

(It hadn’t been all him, really, he’d actually enlisted Bambam to help him for one of the hexes.)

But then Youngjae presses a kiss to the side of his face, quick as lightning, a shy smile on his face, and while it’s politely ignored by the rest of them at that moment, Mark still turns the colour of his tomato and stays that way for the rest of the meal, anyway.

*

“The curtains!” Mark snaps over the phone. “Dad, I’m serious-…hello? The curtains, did you get the curtains?”

If humans think it’s a nightmare bringing their potential future spouse over to visit the parents, they ought to come see cross-species couples do it, honestly. Mark loves his family, really, he does, but like he said earlier, he’s now pretty sure his dad is entirely Unseelie fae and has been lying to him his whole life.

“Curtains?” his father says flippantly. His family doesn’t seem to actually understand the concept of vampire- the whole thing with staying up at night and indoors when they’re awake at daytime, having to religiously removing all silver and strip their house of certain wards, probably still sounds like a cute useless ritual to them. His father seems to think it something of a novelty (vampire? He got sparkle?), his brother had laughed until he cried at the ridiculous idea of Mark ever having the capacity to date a vampire until Mark sent over pictures to shut him up, and till today his mother’s the only one actually making preparations that involve maternally anxious texts about I’ve never bought blood bags before, which ones did you say he likes and no sweets? are you positive he doesn’t eat any sweets? none? not even ice cream?

Thank heavens for his mother. In the meantime, Mark throws himself back on his bed, glaring at his phone, honestly regretting telling his father that garlic isn’t life threatening.

“No garlic, dad I swear-…” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not even in our food, the smell kills him-…”

“Garlic,” his father says amiably. Mark almost screams. In the background, he can hear his brother in hysterics.

“None, no garlic, dad, I’m serious,” Mark wheezes, desperate. “Mom!”

“Raymond.”

His father swears reluctantly in Hokkien. The pitch of Joey’s laughter takes a steep hike.

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll handle everything,” Mark sighs in relief at his mom’s voice. There’s a pause, then, before- “Are you positive, though, no sweets at all, because I’m going to make a macaron tower next week-…”

“That’s mine,” Mark says immediately. “Yes, no sweets, mom, though you can get candy blood bags-…”

“They have those?”

“Ooooh Mom! Can we-…”

“Don’t you dare, Joey Tuan-…”

Mark hangs up, then, knowing the conversation will just disintegrate into a jumble of Mandarin scolding and whining and incoherency from there onwards. He heaves a sigh and shuts his eyes, letting his hand flop back against the pillow, letting his mind unwind for what feels like the first time that day.

It’s testament to how worn out he is, really- that he almost doesn’t hear Youngjae traipsing back into the room after his night out hunting with Jinyoung, before dropping promptly on the bed beside Mark, curling up to him sleepily, soft dark blue hair tickling the underside of his chin.

“Don’t sleep on a full stomach,” Mark comments without opening his eyes. Youngjae isn’t listening, he knows, but he says it anyway.

A comfortable silence follows, during which Mark cracks open an eyelid to check the time. It’s almost two in the morning, early for Youngjae, which can only mean one thing.

“Hyung,” the younger boy says eventually, voice muffled into his shirt, and Mark mumbles in response. “Hyung, what if they don’t like me?”

Mark lets out a breathy laugh, suspicions confirmed. “Don’t be silly, Jae. They’re going to love you.”

I just hope Joey doesn’t love you so much he hides all your underwear around the house so you can’t go home.

“What if they want me to like sunlight?” Youngjae sounds ridiculously worried, and Mark resists the urge to burst out laughing at how cute he can be. “What if they want me to eat vegetables? My parents asked me if fae really didn’t drink blood the time you came over, they actually prepared candy-flavoured blood, what if they want me to eat blood-flavoured vegetables?”

Mark remembers overhearing that conversation with startling clarity, at that, (“Mom-…mom, I really don’t think he’ll want to try blood, he doesn’t even eat meat-…vegetarian, mom, they eat the green things-…) and snorts lightly, running a hand along Youngjae’s back in calming circles.

“I don’t think they have those, Jae,” he chuckles, but Youngjae still looks anxious.

Mark responds without thinking- probably the late hours, and the fact that it’s worked almost every time prior to this in calming him down. He leans forward, pulling the younger boy’s face to meet his in a sleepy kiss that lasts for about 0.3 seconds, before Mark recoils almost immediately, spitting.

“Oh geez, that’s disgusting-…” he splutters, and Youngjae stares, confused, for a moment, before understanding and bursting into laughter. “Is that iron, what the hell-…”

“Now you can stop trying to make me eat ice cream with you,” Youngjae says, obviously pleased, sitting up and dusting himself off. Mark makes a face as specks of earth comes off in visible clouds, obviously from a tussle or a chase whilst he was out.

“Shower,” he orders, rolling off the bed. “And brush your teeth. You’re getting dirt all over my bed.”

Youngjae pouts, then, but one must understand that Mark, by this time, has been well trained in the art of catching on to all hidden motives and intentions behind each Pout, and now is proudly able to come to the independent conclusion that the younger boy is obviously using some form of age-old, hidden mesmer in hypnotising him to do his bidding.

(It’s unfortunate that Mark doesn’t actually know how to stop it, so they end up cuddling and complaining about blood and fruits and the merits of eating either for the next half hour or so, anyway.)

But then 3am finds both of them brushing their teeth together at the common toilets, flicking soap bubbles at one another and making faces with toothpaste foam until Yugyeom comes in, blood covering his extended claws, snickering smugly, and Youngjae flushes in embarrassment.

The only reason Mark doesn’t hide all of Yugyeom’s underwear after that is because Bambam would probably hex him to the moon and back (to properly mess with a warlock’s Familiar was a serious offence indeed. Punishable by law, almost, but then the individual warlock’s punishment was usually worse than anything the supernatural authorities could mete out, so they hadn’t really come around to making a penalty for that yet), but then again Mark is well aware and appreciative of the fact that Youngjae looks extremely cute when he blushes, so he supposes the transgression might be forgivable. This time, anyway.