“dont ing touch me. don’t even think about it,” hongbin hissed, getting up from his bench and backing away. 

wonsik looked at his hands covered in spilled green ink from where he’d tried (and failed) to stop the bottle from tipping over, his guilty puffskein darting behind his bookbag to hide. he raised his head, grinning, to find hongbin using his own bag as a shield and glaring at him, ignoring the looks from the other students at the next table.

“me?” wonsik asked, feigning innocence. “talk about subconscious desires. what makes you think i’m going to touch you?”

“because i know you,” hongbin insisted, and then lowered his voice. “and you know i haven’t mastered cleaning charms yet.”

“tsk,” wonsik shook his head, casually walking around the table as hongbin backed off further in the opposite direction. “how terrible for a sixth year.”

“i have servants for that kind of thing,” hongbin said in mock disdain, and wonsik pretended to shake his head in disapproval. hongbin was a typical purebred slytherin brat in all other aspects, but class snobbery was not one of them; thankfully, because then wonsik would be the last person in hogwarts hongbin would ever have chosen for a friend. 

“i know peasants of your sort could never understand,” hongbin continued, warily eyeing wonsik’s inkstained hands held out before him like weapons. “but these shirts are not your standard issue cheap mass-produced ones. these are egyptian cotton. if you got ink on them Mother would have a fit.”

“a fit,” wonsik agreed, badly wanting to laugh. hongbin could be so ridiculous when he wanted to be. “good thing then that this ink isn’t going anywhere near your egyptian cotton shirts.”

“oh?” hongbin stopped backtracking hopefully, just before wonsik lunged and grabbed hongbin’s face with both hands. hongbin let out a squawk that had wonsik doubled over in laughter, trying not to get ink on himself but failing miserably as he accidentally splattered emerald drops on his yellow tie. they were beginning to get annoyed ‘shhhh’s from the other studying sixth years, and while the teacher on duty was professor binns who was generally unaware of and unbothered about students in general wonsik thought it would be better if they didn’t push it too far. he cast the cleaning charm on himself, noting hongbin’s dark glare of envy.

“now me,” hongbin demanded, both hands clamped to his face to cover the green handprints.

“say the magic word,” wonsik wheedled, only to have hongbin levitate his things and storm off out of the great hall.

he caught up with hongbin outside the stairs down to the slytherin dungeons, grabbing him laughingly by the back of his robes and casting the charm to clean the ink off hongbin’s face.

“scour-gi-fy,” wonsik said softly, emphasizing each syllable with a clear movement of his wand in a smooth s-shape. “see? all clean.”

hongbin lowered his hands and wonsik cupped his cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“scourgify,” hongbin repeated the wand movement a few times with his hand, wonsik nodding, and then noticed the ink on the front of wonsik’s shirt and tie, digging in his pocket for his wand. “scourgify?”

the ink vanished splotchily, like it wasn’t sure if it was going to take orders from hongbin, but it disappeared nonetheless to hongbin’s delight. “ohoho!”

“say thank you,” wonsik nagged, smug, and then pretended that his insides weren’t liquidifying when hongbin pressed a sarcastic kiss to his cheek hard, and then again, softer.

“thank you, peasant.”

wonsik bowed mockingly, and they both proceeded to pretend they couldn’t see the red blush painting each other’s cheeks.