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happycakestories · 5 years

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old mx fic dump pt. 4:

that one hybrid au i deleted but uhhh here it is in its unfinished form

Chapter 4: it’s so typical to say i like you (but i do) / everyday you make my heart race (but you can’t find out)

Title of series - to be young and in love

Series summary: a cheesy monsta x hybrid au

First work - hold my hand (I’ve been waiting for you)

Work summary:

“I mean what I said, you know.” Minhyuk utters calmly, finally interrupting Jooheon’s croaking laughter. “Like I don’t really see it, but you have the right to date whoever you want to at this point.”

Jooheon rolls his eyes, light pink dusting across his cheeks as Minhyuk brings up the same embarrassing topic from before. Still, the elder can’t stop himself from teasing again. “Even if he is a messy college student who orders the weirdest drink in the entire cafe. Your choice, I guess.” He shrugs lightly, purposely glancing away from the other’s progressively reddening cheeks.

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The monsta x hybrid au no one asked for where honeypup find love through messy coffee dates and angry work conflicts.

Ch. 1 - coffee talk (caramel macchiato and iced americano)

Summary: Waking up late for early morning coffee warrants choking and cuddling - in that exact order.

“...on the outside I’m a bad girl, on the inside I’m a good girl-”

Jooheon awakens from the dredges of sleep to the sound of Miss A’s Bad Girl Good Girl blaring nonstop from his phone. He blindly gropes around until his fingers finally close around a vaguely solid object, and he retracts it quickly back under warm covers.

The blue glare of the call notification barely tells him anything except that it is way too early for anyone to be awake and calling him.

No one except for Minhyuk, of course.

Before the more reasonable part of his brain can stop him, he swipes the phone icon across the screen, answering the call.

“Hyung, why.” Jooheon cringes at the drag of his own voice, still rough from sleep. God, why does he sound so much like a chainsmoker?

A tinny, ever familiar voice rings through the speakers, so loud Jooheon’s ears immediately try to curl in on themselves. “Is that any way to greet your favorite person in the morning?”

“Actually, Hoseokie hyung is my favorite so you’re out of luck.” He grins to himself, already picturing Minhyuk huffing in feigned anger.

Seconds later, a burst of static rumbles through the speakers and a low mutter of “I can’t believe I put up with this level of disrespect!” floats across from the background. Jooheon turns his face into his many pillows, gasping as he muffles his giggles into the soft cotton.

The call crackles with static again before Minhyuk resumes speaking normally. “Well, I’m about to become your favorite hyung when I pay for your iced americano at 2Jae’s, so you’d better get your bunny butt out of bed! And yes I know you’re still in bed so don’t try to pretend you even have one foot out on the floor.”

“Hyung-”

“No buts, get moving before I actually come in there and drag you out by your perky ears! You do remember I have your apartment key right?”

“Yes, hyung - I was the one who gave it to you,” he sighs, a noise-induced headache already spreading through his brain.

“Ok, well - whatever, I’m going to be outside your door in 15 minutes and you’d better answer it dressed!” The call ends immediately after Minhyuk’s last syllable, and Jooheon collapses against his pillows, ears unfurling slowly when quiet surrounds them again.

He lets the phone slip loose from his fingers and slide down into whatever dark crevice that awaits it. He just needs a few moments to calm down from that rushed (and very loud) conversation.

Just five minutes. Maybe even seven. He’s gotten ready in less time than that before, so it should be completely fine. Minhyuk won’t even be able to tell whether he’s dressed up or not. Sweaters and sweatpants are acceptable, right?

Right. Ten minutes then to take a little rabbit nap.

--------

Jooheon blinks awake to the sound of his phone going off for the second time that morning.

And, of course, it is once again Minhyuk.

Who is pissed, according to the rapid stream of texts pinging into his inbox.

aka Minhyukuuu: i am literally right outside your door

aka Minhyukuuu: one minute carrot face

aka Minhyukuuu: istg lee jooheon

aka Minhyukuuu: 36 seconds and i am coming for your rabbit ass

Jooheon flails up, head spinning with vertigo as he scrolls frantically, dread building up with every pixelated word. His phone dings just as he reaches the last text, signalling another incoming message.

aka Minhyukuuu: 15 seconds

Fuck. He’s screwed isn’t he?

The phone is thrown onto the bed, bouncing away, discarded as Jooheon panics to stumble out of bed as fast as possible.

He trips over clothing strewn across the floor (sweaters, cardigans, and a suspicious pair of leather pants), and he plops down onto the carpet, pulling on whatever item is the most closely available as frantically as possible.

He’s got one leg in a pair of paint-stained jeans when an ominous thud echoes from the living room, followed immediately by pounding footsteps that roll towards his room like impending thunder.

Jooheon resumes his struggle with increased fervor, even though in the back his mind he’s already acknowledged his doomed fate. His panic grows even more when his tail refuses to cooperate, stubbornly clinging to his back instead of slipping through the specially designed hole at the waistband.

He’s about to give up and just yank it through by hand when his bedroom door slams open with bang, and he’s suddenly met with an angry, slitted stare.

His puffy tail chooses this exact moment to cooperate, and he quickly slips his jeans to his waist, buttoning and zipping up the fly before standing upon cramped legs. “Well, I’m technically ready now…” he grins weakly, faltering when Minhyuk only continues glaring, black ears twitching minutely in the morning light.

In a flash, his friend is no longer standing in front of him, and he’s suddenly flat against the ground again. He looks up to see the cat hybrid positioned over him in a hunched straddle, dangerously close with his hands caged around his head. Minhyuk’s eyes are still slitted forebodingly, but there’s a glimmer in his dark pupils that tells Jooheon he’s safe from actually being dragged out by the ears.

He pulls his ears flat against his face, pouting up at his friend with puppy, or in this case, bunny eyes. “Hyung,” he whines in his signature baby voice, “I’m sorry. Please,” he dials the puppy-bunny eyes up another notch, widening them as much as possible and squeaking out, “forgive me?”

His plan seems to have worked when the hands near his head start lifting away, and he breathes a sigh of relief, ears immediately springing upright back to their original position.

Unfortunately, he celebrated a bit too early.

Minhyuk’s hands dart back down around his face and lock on like two iron clamps, forcing Jooheon back down against the floor. Suddenly, his head is being lifted up and swung down in rapid succession, back and forth, back and forth, until all he can see is a blur of colors, like some violence induced acid trip.

When he’s finally dropped down, his ears are ringing in pain, and he folds them flat against his face, curling his hands gently over them. Minhyuk sits back (mind you, still on top of him) looking like the epitome of the cat who’s gotten the cream.

If the cream was a bunny in pain, then yep, that saying fits perfectly to the situation right now.

“Was that really necessary?” Jooheon whines, hands clenching over his still-ringing ears. Minhyuk only smirks back, lips curling up in pure satisfaction as his long tail waves lazily in and out of the corner of Jooheon’s eye.

“I suppose not…” he remarks, casually picking at a well-manicured finger, “but what would be the fun in that?” He turns a blindingly bright grin towards the rabbit hybrid trapped under him, feigning the perfect image of angelic innocence.

Jooheon splutters, and starts wriggling like a fish out of water until he displaces the man on top off him with an oomph. Fortunately, Minhyuk drops to the floor with all his grace intact (curse his cat genes) and barely bats an eyelash as he rolls elegantly into an upright position.

Jooheon huffs, disgruntled at his own messily sprawled state after their little morning tousle. Minhyuk only cocks an eyebrow at him, preening lightly through his hair as he directs a silent question towards the hybrid on the ground. Jooheon shakes it off, blinking away from the other’s stare. When he sits up, he can already feel a crook in his ear, and he reaches up to fiddle with it for a few minutes before the appendage finally straightens out on its own.

Slender hands come to card through his hair, scratching across his scalp to rest gently at the base of his ears. They start massaging smoothly at the curved bone there, caressing with well-placed touches until the bunny hybrid is a melted puddle of nerves.

Minhyuk allows Jooheon to rest against his chest, only twitching minutely when fluffy ears brush across his face. It’s a silent apology, his stubborn way of saying sorry for wrestling his childhood friend of many years to the floor and choking the life out of him.

It’s good enough for Jooheon, the event already forgotten in a hazy sea of neurons and synapses, each one after the other firing off bright signals of pleasure through his bunny brain. He makes some sort of purring sound, a rumble deep in his chest as Minhyuk’s fingers continue to work their apologetic magic up to the tips of his ears.

“Are we good?” the cat hybrid murmurs quietly, slitted pupils following the pale curve of the other’s closed lids as he awaits an obvious answer.

“Yeah,” Jooheon hums, revelling in the tingling across his scalp. “Yeah, we’re definitely good.”

Skilled hands are replaced by a soft pair of lips that plant a quick peck on the crown of his head as arms circle around his neck in a warm hug. Jooheon returns it just as affectionately, clinging to the arms around him and snuggling contentedly against them.

“Good,” Minhyuk sighs out in relief, his breath disturbing wisps of curled blonde hair in the process.

“You’re still buying coffee for me though,” Jooheon grins up at his friend, who rolls his eyes in acceptance.

“Fine,” Minhyuk grimaces, knees popping as he pulls both of them to their feet. He smooths down invisible wrinkles on his black turtleneck, re-tucking it around skin-tight jeans. “But I get to pick our orders.”

“Good enough for me! Free coffee is free coffee.” Jooheon concedes, eyes crinkling in amusement as he watches Minhyuk’s inner cat preen through his barely rumpled clothes and hair.

Minhyuk finishes smoothing down the fur on his ears, his cat side temporarily satisfied, and marches towards the door. He automatically grabs onto Jooheon, latching onto the other’s fraying sweater sleeve and pulls the bunny hybrid to his side. Jooheon follows accordingly, catching up to Minhyuk until they’re shoulder to shoulder, eye to eye, and ear to ear.

He can’t resist reaching over and giving a gentle stroke to the cat hybrid’s perked ear. It twitches slightly under his fingers, but he persists, slowly stroking the fur in long petting motions. Minhyuk raises a brow, but he’s clearly not resisting so Jooheon gets a few more pets in before reluctantly dropping his hand.

“Your fur is nice…” he mumbles by way of an explanation, immediately blushing and fiddling with the hand that had been touching those soft, soft ears.

Minhyuk looks over, watching heat stir in the other’s cheeks over something so menial, so innocent in its intent. He reaches over and pinches Jooheon’s downturned nose, eliciting a surprised yelp.

The bunny hybrid turns toward him, clutching his nose with more shock than actual pain. “What was that for?” he muffles out from behind his hand.

“It was for being too cute,” Minhyuk replies haughtily, turning his face up towards the ceiling. Jooheon laughs, used to the other’s hot-and-cold attitude, but there’s still a smattering of pink dusted on his cheeks.

This time they walk out even closer than before, arms linked as happiness buzzes warmly through them. Jooheon leans into the crook of Minhyuk’s shoulder, and Minhyuk lets furry ears tickle against the side of his neck without complaint.

----------

2Jae’s is still relatively empty when the two arrive, save for a few truly early businessmen and the bleary eyed baristas.

They enter with a light ding of the bell on the door and are instantaneously immersed into the world of coffee, indie beats, and terrariums overflowing with lush greenery.

It’s one of the best places in town.

The recommended specials are always drawn cutely with colored chalk onto a blackboard tacked behind the counter. Today they read: vanilla sweet brew, almond milk macchiato, honey lemon tea, and “full love impact.”

The last option has been on there for months at this point, so much so that it should no longer be a daily special. However, there seems to be some kind of feud between the two owners of the cafe over that drink; something about it being too indecent for the public eye and a disgrace to the cafe that it’s even available as a potential order.

(It was screamed from the back of the cafe so distinctly one day that no one could pretend they hadn’t heard it. At this point, there’s some kind of unspoken consensus for it to be ignored among all the workers and customers)

Today, it’s been rewritten in pink chalk with excessively shiny hearts doodled around it. Really, whoever has to do this everyday should be paid extra for this kind of trouble. In fact, it must be the worst waste of supplies because who even has the nerve to order a drink called “full love impact” ?

Minhyuk ignores the last option as usual and goes ahead to order his usual caramel macchiato and Jooheon’s iced americano. Their cashier smiles charmingly at a familiar face, already typing in the order before Minhyuk can even open his mouth.

“Thank you Youngjae-ssi,” Minhyuk nods his head slightly to the part-time cashier and full-time owner of the cafe. He decides to wait at the counter, seeing as no one else is up in line right now. The machines whir soothingly as Youngjae mixes the drinks, and the cat hybrid watches dazedly from his flopped position in front of them.

It’s nice enough he almost dozes off, but he catches himself just in time to accept the drinks fresh off the press. He grudgingly pays for both, Jooheon’s dimpled smile keeping the promise fresh in his mind.

With both drinks in hand, Minhyuk turns to leave before an errant thought catches him in his steps. Compulsively, he turns back to Youngjae, who glances up from the register at his return.

“Youngjae-ssi,” Minhyuk hesitates, question wildly running through his mind before he brashly continues. “Why is that last order still up as a daily special after all this time?”

He’s met with a deafening silence that seems to spread throughout the whole cafe. Even the birds outside quiet for a moment, perhaps in mourning of Minhyuk’s inevitable fate after this question.

Youngjae’s wide smile is still plastered across his face, but there’s something about it that doesn’t reach his eyes, nor the rest of his usually cheery demeanor. His half-rounded, pebble brown mouse ears have started twitching minutely, and Minhyuk thinks he can see a skinny tail slowly rising up from behind the cafe owner’s back as well.

“You’re right Minhyuk, why is it still up, huh?” The words grind out from between pressed lips, and the cat hybrid almost flinches at the suppressed rage hidden within Youngjae’s rhetorical reply.

The cafe owner’s expression immediately drops, becoming apologetic at Minhyuk’s shock. His tail relaxes slightly, but the line of his lips is still slightly strained. “Ah, I didn’t mean to take out it on you Minhyuk. It’s just been a bit of a, how would you say this, point of contention between my mate and I.”

By that he means Jaebum, a panther hybrid who makes up the second half of the 2Jae duo, resident sweetheart, and Youngjae’s husband of 3 years. Also, the apparent perpetrator of the cursed “full love impact” drink.

Minhyuk is still relatively confused, but there’s something about Youngjae’s words that prompts him to close his big mouth to any further questions. Youngjae and his husband have always been a model example of a successful marriage - complete with love and financial success - so it leads the cat hybrid to wonder what kind of divisive conflict could be behind such a simple drink.

He’s cut off when Youngjae’s apologetic mask immediately switches into one of placid professionalism when he glances past Minhyuk. It’s another early morning customer - a college student at first glance. He’s got short, choppy hair, bangs ruffled most likely from a night without sleep, and Minhyuk takes pity on him as he remembers his own schooling days.

He steps aside, reluctantly letting go of his question for the sake of being polite. He finally heads back to Jooheon with their drinks dripping wet from condensation, smiling fondly when the bunny hybrid shoots up eagerly from his previously sprawled position. He makes grabby hands at the drink, flapping his oversized sleeves in the process. Minhyuk hands over the iced americano without a moment’s hesitation.

He slides onto the high-topped stool across from the other man and starts sipping at his own drink as well. The sweet flavors hit his tongue with a gentle familiarity, and he sighs at the rush of caffeine through his system. The sun hits his entire right side at the most perfect angle, and Jooheon grins cutely at him over his own straw.

Yeah, it’s a good morning.

His “moment” is interrupted when hissed whispers arise from the counter, his sensitive ears immediately snapping towards the direction of the sound. Jaebum’s arrived behind the register, and he’s receiving the college student’s order with a tight smile on his face; all the while, Youngjae is muttering what must be insults behind his mate with fury simmering in his eyes.

“One order of Full Love Impact to go?” The college student nods noncommittally, seemingly unaware of the tense conflict taking place behind the counter.

Minhyuk is still in shock over the fact that anyone would order that drink out of their own free will, much less a sleep-deprived student who should be living off of pure black coffee at this point in his life. Jooheon’s ears have also perked towards the counter, eyes widening comically as he takes in the scene before them.

The ridiculous drink is prepared with little to no effort, and before long, the boy has the drink in hand and is sipping at it without a care in the world for the struggle he’s incited. God knows what’s in that beverage, but something about it makes his previously dead stare melt into an adorable smile, complete with crinkles at the edge of his eyes. Combine that with his tousled looks, and there’s suddenly an attractive sense of boyish handsomeness about him.

And it looks like Minhyuk’s not the only one who’s noticed this either.

Jooheon’s lips have dropped open around the straw, too distracted by the view to even remove his mouth from the plastic appendage. His eyes track the college student’s movements all the way to the front of the cafe, only blinking away when the boy is no longer in sight. There’s a high flush on his cheeks as he resumes sucking away at his drink, and his ears have started quivering down towards his cheeks.

Pink lips have pulled themselves into a pointed pout around the straw, and Minhyuk can already tell the plastic around the tip is going to be shredded silly once Jooheon decides to remove his mouth from the tube. He’s always had a bad habit of nibbling at things and this time, it’s of no exception.

The cat hybrid reaches over, gently pinching a soft cheek to get his friend’s attention. Jooheon finally comes out of his flushed trance and lifts his mouth off of a wilting straw. He looks up at his friend with innocent eyes, slowly lifting his ears away from his face as his embarrassment fades.

“You know, you weren’t being obvious at all when you were checking out that kid.” Blood immediately returns to the his cheeks, long ears snapping back down rapidly to hide his face.

“Shut up, I was not-”

“Yes, you were.” Minhyuk cuts him off bluntly with a dead stare. “Look, you’re doing that thing with your ears again-” The rabbit hybrid’s ears immediately snap upwards. “Don’t even think you can attempt to fool me at this point Lee Jooheon. Are you trying to insult our lifelong friendship?”

“No…” Jooheon quietly pouts, “but you don’t have to be harsh about it.” He glances around furtively, pupils twitching nervously as he takes in the still-empty cafe and breathes a sigh. He automatically starts fidgeting with his ears again, pulling the furry tips towards his cheek.

The cat hybrid scoffs, languished as he leans back against his seat and tipping his chin towards the ceiling. It’s decorated with finely painted wood beams that host clear, bell-shaped lamps dangling down from smooth, black cords. If he stares long enough at the soft lighting maybe Jooheon will stop being the adorable mess that he is on too many occasions - including right now.

“There’s no way anybody noticed that you had the hots for a messy college student,” Minhyuk comments, still stretching backwards. “Besides me of course.” He smirks proudly when he hears “of course you did” muttered almost indistinguishably across from him.

“But really,” he pulls himself forward, curling his tail around a chair leg to steady himself, “what did you see in that guy? I mean he was cute and all, but really, that drink choice would’ve ruined it for me.”

Jooheon sticks out his tongue, narrowing slim eyes at his so-called friend. “First of all, you’re not me. And yes -” he continues quickly as Minhyuk opens his mouth to argue, “there is a difference between knowing someone for most of their life versus actually living their life and generally existing as them, okay?”

The older hybrid huffs a breath as he pointedly looks out the window, defeat sullenly written across his face. He shouldn’t be so worked up about Jooheon’s little outburst, but something about it irks him to an indescribable degree. It’s the fact that they’ve basically known each other since birth, grew up together, and have seen each other at their absolute best and worst - shouldn’t they be close enough that Jooheon should have no reason to freak out about a little crush, even less so in front of his best friend?

He’s just a little angry is all. (Besides who was the one who paid for their drinks today?)

Jooheon watches as his friend continues glaring moodily out of the window, and he swears he can see the literal gears turning in the other’s head. The bunny hybrid has already started biting his lip nervously, regret for every word of his previous outburst coursing uncomfortably through his body.

It’s an understatement to say that Minhyuk may be a bit of a diva, but his own sharp remark was probably uncalled for. That boy though...something about him had tugged on Jooheon, pulling his gaze to him as if there was taut string between them. It was his scent maybe, a sharp, almost cinnamon tang with a sweet undercurrent of apple. It had made his head fog up within seconds of smelling it, muffling all his senses until it had finally drifted out of the cafe and away from him.

It’s been years since he’s been in a serious relationship with anyone (Minhyuk not-included), so the sudden surge of attraction he had felt shocked him to some degree. Coupled with the fact that the boy was a complete stranger and his best friend’s immediate teasing, he couldn’t stop himself from exploding a little.

Still, his lifelong friendship has lasted too long to be broken up by something like this. Besides, looking at Minhyuk’s frowning face is starting to make his insides twist pitifully. If this tense silence continues any longer he might start crying a little.

“Ah, hyung,” he starts quietly, waiting for Minhyuk to acknowledge him. The elder inclines his head, ears turning slightly towards his direction, even as he pretends to feign interest in something outside.

Jooheon pulls his sleeves to the tips of fingers, picking at the already-frayed tips and lowering his gaze to the scratched wood of the table. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles through an exaggerated pout. “It shouldn’t have been such a big deal to me. Besides...” he trails off at a sad thought before admitting it with a sigh. “It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

In the second it takes for him to stop picking at his sleeve and to look up from the table, Minhyuk has somehow left his seat and appeared right beside him. He can barely utter a sound of surprise before he’s engulfed in rib-crushing hug. For such a skinny guy, Minhyuk has a surprisingly immovable grip around him. Jooheon makes a few half-hearted attempts at loosening it, but his friend’s arms stay locked around him like an iron cage. Eventually, he succumbs to the hug, nuzzling his face into Minhyuk’s sleek shoulder.

He takes a deep breath, heart settling as an ever-familiar scent of cherry blossoms winds through his system, tingling pleasantly along the way like the burn of a shot of whiskey. It’s so soothingly comfortable, he could fall asleep like this.

Which is why he forces himself to pull away, tearing his face away from Minhyuk’s beautiful scent. “So,” he clears his throat, looking up through his lashes. “I’m forgiven right?”

The cat hybrid scoffs, removing his arms from the younger’s middle to run a hand roughly through unbrushed blonde curls. It only makes Jooheon’s hair puff out even more, and he whines cutely for Minhyuk to stop. It only makes the older mess it up even more, revelling at the way the other’s nose twitches with every sweep of his hand.

Of course he can’t stay mad, not with the adorable sight displayed before him. He finally removes his hand and holds it out to Jooheon instead, pulling the rabbit hybrid to his feet when their fingers interlace. He grabs both of their empty cups in his other hand, stretching long fingers around cold, wet plastic in a delicate balancing act.

Hand-in-hand, he pulls Jooheon along with him to the door, automatically tossing out the cups on the way. When they finally step into the direct sunlight, Minhyuk finally deems Jooheon’s previous question with a reply.

“Of course I forgive you.” The other boy looks over, eyes wide in surprise. When he registers what the answer is for, curved eyes crease into tiny half-moons and deep dimples form out of soft cheeks.

“Oh, that.” he states plainly even as his smile grows across his face. It’s terribly infectious, and Minhyuk can already feel the same expression mirroring across his own face.

“Yes, that!” he retorts without any bite, his grin growing so wide his cheeks ache.

Jooheon tries to muffle a laugh at the other’s feigned anger, but he ends up snorting directly into Minhyuk’s face. The elder responds with sharp pinch to his nose, cuffing it between two bony knuckles.

The rabbit hybrid jerks away, rubbing gingerly at his nose with the edge of a frayed sleeve. It hurts, but the pain is already fading away to make room for the laughter bubbling up uncontrollably in his throat. When he looks at Minhyuk, he can see the same amusement glittering in brown eyes and hiding behind tightly pressed lips.

It erupts moments later, and he’s cupping his face in sleeved palms as they both stumble down the street. There’s an occasional passerby that tosses a questioning glance at them, but the bunny and kitty are too lost in each other’s idiocy to even pay attention to any social norms.

When they’ve finally gasped out every ounce of laughter, Minhyuk attempts to adopt a serious expression as he turns to face Jooheon. It comes out more like a squinty pout, and the younger boy bursts into giggles again. The cat hybrid attempts to appear exasperated, but there’s a deep ache in his cheeks and stomach that makes him want to curl up under the sun for a long (cat) nap. It’s soothing in the most exhausting way.

“I mean what I said, you know.” he utters calmly, finally interrupting Jooheon’s croaking laughter. “Like I don’t really see it, but you have the right to date whoever you want to at this point.”

Before Jooheon’s head can explode from the amount of blood flowing to his face, Minhyuk links the pinkies of their left hands together, pulling them up to rest in the space between their cheeks.

“Just remember, I was here first.”

He curls his pinky even tighter around Jooheon’s, so tight that he can see the younger’s finger straining awkwardly to stay looped around his. It must hurt a bit, but Jooheon easily allows Minhyuk to pull his hand along. He’s still smiling - brilliant and excruciatingly bright in the dewy sunlight.

“Of course, you always will be.”

Ch. 2 - smile at me now like you did then

Summary: Often good intentions are misunderstood through the lack of nuance through text. However, the subject of selective wording is unfortunately something that is completely lost on Minhyuk.

Jooheon’s phone woke him up for the second time that week. However, rather than a deafeningly loud ringtone, this time it was a series of vibrations that he felt from his pocket that jolted him awake. Becoming more alert to his surroundings, the sleepy rabbit hybrid noticed two things. The first being the pressure of a small body crushing his left arm and the second was that currently, there were fluffy ears brushing softly against his right cheek. Blinking in confusion, Jooheon proceeded to register where he was. Looking around from his spot laid on the floor Jooheon could tell he was surrounded by brightly coloured walls plastered with crudely drawn artwork and crafts. This signified that he was at none other than Sunnyside Care: the daycare that he spent every Monday through Friday for the last two years working at. Which meant Jooheon must have fallen asleep during nap time, again, rather than helping the other teacher, Shin Hoseok, clean up the afternoon snacks and begin setup for the daily playtime until the parents came to pick up the kids. Now fully recognizing where he was Jooheon had a few ideas about the small body currently crushing his arm. Glancing to the left his suspicions were confirmed as the bunny hybrid was greeted with the sight of comically oversized fluffy ears that belonged to the young bat-eared fox hybrid known as Sanghyuk. Which meant the ears tickling his right cheek must belong to none other than Jungkook. Upon investigation Jooheon confirmed that it was indeed the small boy whose ears were slowly ghosting over his skin with every small breath that he took. This did not surprise him. Although most of the children attending the daycare tended to cling to their two teachers, Jungkook was always much worse in this regard. Hoseok had guessed before that it was due to the fact that they were the only rabbit hybrids in the young boy’s life. Suddenly, feeling his phone vibrate against his leg again Jooheon sighed remembering why he was suddenly awake. Hoping not to wake Sanghyuk, Jooheon lightly pushed the four year old off his arm. However hearing a soft whine of “Teacher Honey” he knew he had been unsuccessful. Holding his breath for a second he let out a small sigh of relief once the young hybrid’s breaths had slowed down signifying that he was once again asleep. The last thing Jooheon and Hoseok needed was a crying child waking up the whole room in the middle of naptime. (Although Hoseok loved Jooheon as if he was his own child, Jooheon knew between causing such a scene and not helping with cleanup, the other rabbit hybrid would definitely be plotting his death. Or, knowing Hoseok’s kind hearted nature, it would be more like planning to “forget” to bring Jooheon lunch one day. However, being someone who was not able to cook was a fate almost as bad, if not worse, than death itself). Feeling one final vibration against his leg Jooheon scrambled towards the door, almost tripping over their sleeping lion hybrid, Taekwoon, on his way. Once safely outside the classroom he slipped his phone out of his pocket, and from one glance at his lockscreen he could see four text notifications from Minhyuk. aka Minhyukuuu: i’m home aka Minhyukuuu: i mean at your apartment, but like technically my home anyways aka Minhyukuuu: either way you should definitely come home straight after work aka Minhyukuuu: don’t mess around with kids and stuff ok? Leaving them all on read Jooheon let out an annoyed huff as he locked his phone and stuffed it into his back pocket. As Jooheon was fuming over the demanding texts, Hoseok, who had been in the daycare’s kitchen cleaning dishes, was walking down the hall and saw the annoyed twitch of the other rabbit’s ear. The elder merely raised an eyebrow in a wordless question. “Minhyuk,” Jooheon explained in an exasperated tone. That was all Hoseok needed to hear before he was nodding in understanding and mumbling something about “young mates and their problems” as he walked back into the classroom. Not bothering to argue that he and Minhyuk were not mates unlike Hoseok (and his mate Hyunwoo) seemed to believe for some reason, Jooheon proceeded instead to walk into the classroom behind the other rabbit hybrid to finish helping set up the classroom. --------- Only a few hybrid children were left in the daycare. Most had been picked up by their parents after the deafeningly loud playtime. Now Jooheon was just reading a story to Yugyeom and Jungkook as Hoseok was sending off the children with the parents who had already arrived. As he was reading to the two of them he smiled softly seeing the young bunny hybrid cuddle into the kitten hybrid’s lap. These two best friends always reminded Jooheon of Minhyuk and himself which made him particularly fond of the two. (He hated to pick favourites, however he definitely did have a weak spot for these two). Minhyuk and Jooheon had met at around the same age as Yugyeom and Jungkook in a classroom much like this one. He just hoped that the two would have as much luck as Minhyuk and himself in staying friends for so long. However at the thought of Minhyuk the rabbit hybrid began growing bitter again due to the demanding texts from earlier. As much as he loved him, Minhyuk often managed to get on his nerves at the worse possible times. “Namjoon and Seokjin are here,” Jooheon heard Hoseok call from the hallway. Knowing that was his cue to bring the remaining hybrids into the hall Jooheon put the book away before leading the kids out by their chubby hands. Taking the bunny hybrid’s backpack and jacket off the wall hanger Jooheon helped zip Jungkook securely into his fluffy jacket. Once zipped he ruffled the young hybrid’s black hair before letting the boy run over to his father, Namjoon. After the russian blue hybrid had greeted his son, Seokjin picked the younger up as they left. Jungkook, of course, proceed to tug on his father’s antlers which caused a small laugh to escape Jooheon’s lips as he watched the scene before him. Seeing Yugyeom leaving hand in hand with his parents, Jackson and Kunpimook, the rabbit hybrid knew it was now time to start heading home himself. Collecting his bag from the break room Jooheon walked into the main hall and saw Hoseok who was now joined by Hyunwoo. “I’ll see you on Monday,” Jooheon said softly on his way out. “Do you need a ride home?” Hyunwoo questioned. The bear hybrid always offered, but he usually received the same answer as he did today that “no thanks he was fine.” Jooheon felt bad and some days he wished he would accept the ride however Hoseok and Hyunwoo already did so much for him that he did not want them going a few miles out of their way for him as well. After yelling back his usual response the rabbit hybrid promptly left the building to join the rush to get home.

---------

Jooheon’s phone vibrates continuously against his leg as he makes his way home, but he resolutely decides to ignore it just to spite his friend. Honestly, he’s a full-grown adult, so what right does Minhyuk have to demand him to do anything, especially in his own home at that?

None! He huffs angrily, stomping his way to the subway line. Nearby passengers turn to look at him questioningly, but the rabbit hybrid only plops down with a loud thump onto the nearest bench, immediately pulling his ears down to shield his face. He’s aware of how silly he looks - long white ears manually pulled down with his hands as he slouches against a pillar behind the bench. Still, he’s so on edge about Minhyuk’s stupidly demanding texts he might explode if anyone decided to confront him about his strange image.

Thankfully, the subway pulls up just as Jooheon is seriously considering chucking his phone onto the rails. He resolves to keep it in his pocket, satisfied to leave the messages unseen and unanswered.

The doors open with a woosh, and Jooheon prepares himself for the ensuing battle. A stream of passengers exit through the open doors, a conglomerate mass that eventually diffuses into separate bits once it gets far enough through the station. The amount of passengers leaving is becoming less concentrated with every second, and Jooheon decides now is the right time to strike.

He bumps his way through the crowd like a pinball, hunching over to make himself as small as possible. Still, he can’t avoid attracting a few rude looks and muttered curses, which only worsens his already dark mood. Were subway passengers always this rude?

It’s unfair, but right now he feels spiteful enough to push the blame onto Minhyuk. If it hadn’t been for his texts maybe Jooheon wouldn’t have to deal with all these assholes roughly pushing into him. It must be the law of the universe that one terrible thing has to coincide with another or else he wouldn’t be wedged into a cramped corner of the train, head spinning as a disgusting cocktail of scents settle into a thick fog around him.

(It’s usually much easier when he rides the subway with Minhyuk. The cat hybrid’s scent is so overwhelming, Jooheon can’t smell anything else but the sweetness of whiskey-tinted cherry blossoms. Besides, the older hybrid is shameless enough he’ll make his own path through a crowd, all the while towing Jooheon along securely behind him).

But no, stuck behind a mess of scents and sweaty bodies, Jooheon decides he’s fine by himself. As a full-grown adult, this is completely bearable, and he’s fully capable of dealing with it.

As the ride continues, the heat only seems to get worse as Jooheon is progressively pressed closer to the wall. It becomes bad enough that he eventually turns to his usual coping method of pulling his ears down to cover his face. It’s the only way to block out the haze of different smells invading his space. His own scent is too vague to truly do anything, but in this situation even the lightest hint of something familiar is enough to get the job done.

He spends the rest of the ride in this manner, with his ears pulled tightly around his face like some fashionable fur collar, except he’s pretty sure people who wear such things aren’t usually on the brink of a complete meltdown. Jooheon twitches uncomfortably, burying his face even deeper into soft fur when something warm and distinctly hand-like brushes up against his tail. If anyone has the nerve to grope him again, they’re definitely earning a hard stomp to the foot whether they like it or not.

Finally, his torture comes to an end when a yellow dot lights up on the eighth station of the mini-map above the closed doors. Jooheon reluctantly releases his ears from his sweaty grasp, preparing to make a mad dash the moment the subway stops. The departing rush is always the worst, and wedged in the corner of the train, he really doubts he’ll be able to make a smooth exit today.

The press of bodies becomes invariably more unbearable when the subway hisses to a stop. Jooheon can only allow himself to be dragged along as a tiny speck of dust within a roaring sea of oppressive waves, not able to even retain a semblance of personal control. He’s spit out like a single ball from a rotating bingo machine, rolling into the station at an uncontrollable speed on borrowed momentum until he’s finally stopped by a stationary pillar.

The rabbit hybrid takes a moment to hunch over and catch his breath, every inch of his skin tingling from being jostled around so roughly. He carries out a quick pat-down of his body, making sure that his phone, keys, and wallet are safely on his person. His phone stays rigidly silent in his back pocket, and for some reason that makes his insides twist uncomfortably with an indescribable mix of feelings.

(Would Minhyuk really have given up that easily?)

He shakes the stupid thought away, choosing instead to exit the underground station through a well-worn route. He emerges onto a large, bustling road, pushed to the very edge of the crumbling pavement with swelling crowds of hybrids rushing past each other with the same degree of urgency. Jooheon joins them readily, melting into the flood with the ease of a single water droplet. He’s carried away quickly by the ever-moving sea of familiar strangers, sliding down twisting streets on the crowd’s collective energy until he’s finally deposited at the mouth of his apartment.

Jooheon shivers in front of the complex, trying to shake off the ghost of clinging touches against his body. It should be mundane at this point; after all, he’s been doing this for more than two years. However, the feeling always sticks like a layer of heavy grease along his skin, and all he really wants to do is relax with a warm bath, complete with bubbles and flower petals.

But alas, he must first deal with Minhyuk’s bullshit.

Jooheon sighs, slapping himself lightly on the cheeks before marching into the apartment building with renewed vigor. He’s tired, gross, and starving beyond compare and the faster he gets through with Minhyuk’s demands, the faster he can get his aching, kid-beaten body into a soothing bath.

(Really, Jooheon loves each and every child at the daycare, but unfortunately, he’s not getting any younger these days).

He flips past the scratched honeybee keychain (courtesy of said children) to find his nondescript apartment key and inserts it into the lock, twisting until he hears a distinct click.

Inside, the rabbit hybrid immediately spots a recognizable pair of triangle black ears peeking up from above his hideous orange couch. They instantly perk up at his entrance, swiveling a quarter way towards the sound of a key in the lock. Jooheon promptly molds his face into a frown, adamant that he won’t back down from an argument today.

However, when Minhyuk leaps up from the couch his plan is slightly diverted when he notices something in the cat hybrid’s hands. As he walks excitedly closer, Jooheon finally realizes it’s a pot of healthily growing lavender flowers - and a rather large pot at that.

He gently catches the pot as Minhyuk drops it into his automatically open palms, too stunned to do anything otherwise. The younger hybrid gapes down at the flowers, brain slowly processing that this is what his friend must have meant when he had demanded that Jooheon come home without any delay. Of course, only Minhyuk could have been this sweet and misleading at the same time.

Still, the plant is flourishing so beautifully Jooheon feels his stomach turn at the fact that he was originally going to completely chew his friend out for being such an asshole - when in reality, Minhyuk was just being his amazing, thoughtful self, albeit not without his usual rudeness as well.

Jooheon sets the flowers down with as much restraint as possible before letting go and pouncing onto Minhyuk with the tightest hug he can muster. The older hybrid stumbles back with a surprised oomph, but he quickly returns the embrace in full, wrapping his arms around the younger’s middle and burying his face into the other’s neck.

The rabbit hybrid breathes deeply as his friend’s strong scent settles around him like a comforting blanket, completely clearing off the tar-like mix of odors that had been adamantly clinging on from earlier. He closes his eyes for a moment and dreams of being able to stay like this forever, of being held safely in Minhyuk’s steady fingers and sweet scent for an eternity.

Unfortunately, Jooheon’s straining heel catches on the edge of the pot of flowers, and both hybrids immediately spring apart when the clay scratches loudly against the floor. It almost tips over, but not quite, instead choosing to rock back and forth dangerously like a badly made top before finally settling flat onto its bottom.

They both breathe a sigh of relief, and Minhyuk sags against the couch as Jooheon bends down to locate his newly acquired child to a safer spot than the living room floor. He settles temporarily on the nearby ledge of his kitchen table, and he gently runs a hand through the bobbing flowers before returning to the prone figure spread-eagled on the back of the couch.

“Hyung,” he steps over to the front of the couch, looking down at Minhyuk from the opposite side. “Thanks for the gift.”

The cat hybrid preens under Jooheon’s appraisal, turning his head to the side as he pointedly waits for more compliments. Jooheon rolls his eyes, but he willingly obliges. “You’re the best most wonderful hyung anyone could ask for.”

Minhyuk’s pupils glint craftily. “Even better than Hoseok hyung?”

Jooheon pouts, turning to rustle in his bag for the tupperware container Hoseok had given him earlier at work. He displays it apologetically to the other hybrid before sheepishly muttering, “Actually, gift-wise you guys would be on the same level by now.”

Minhyuk rapidly shoots up from his previous position to aggressively swipe the container from Jooheon’s hands. Of course, Hoseok manages to one-up him again by giving Jooheon the one thing he can’t: homemade food. Inside the tupperware are steamed buns that must have been made with dough from scratch and were lovingly shaped by hand into the cute round mounds he sees before him now.

He’s suddenly hit with an irrational surge of envy, but also with the immediate urge to stuff as many buns into his mouth as possible. Jooheon watches Minhyuk’s internal struggle with a quiet smile on his face, laughing at the way the cat hybrid’s pupils shift nervously between each and every bun, all lined up in pretty rows along the container.

“Why don’t we heat those up and eat?” he suggests to put Minhyuk out of his misery.

“I guess,” the older boy says, tearing his eyes away from the food. “If you’re that hungry, I suppose we have no other choice but to eat Hoseok’s buns, do we?”

Jooheon immediately scrunches his nose in distaste at Minhyuk’s wording, and he quickly snatches away the tupperware and heads to the microwave before any more innuendos can be made. Even through the constant whirr of the machine, he swears he can hear a familiar cackle trail through from the other room.

When he gets back, steam buns actually steaming in hand, Minhyuk innocently looks up with half of a chicken wing sticking out of his mouth. Jooheon stares blankly, unimpressed, as he sets the buns out onto a platter in front of the still-frozen Minhyuk.

“I was hungry okay?” The cat hybrid rushes to defend himself, spitting out a perfectly cleaned bone.

“Mmph,” Jooheon replies, mouth already stuffed full with a bun as he pointedly looks at the open takeout box on Minhyuk’s lap.

“I happened to pick this up on my way over here,” The older hybrid protests, flailing oil smeared hands in the air by way of explanation. “Also,” he wipes off a sliver of cabbage stuck to the rabbit hybrid’s cheek, “don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Jooheon mumbles something that suspiciously sounds like “not my mom,” but he finishes chewing and swallowing slowly before attempting coherent speech again. “You could have picked something up for me too,” he whines, directing a pathetic look at the glistening container of fried chicken. “You know I can’t eat meat…” he trails off, pouting at his half-chewed bun.

“Wait,” Minhyuk yanks Jooheon’s hand to him in order to inspect the ingredients of said bun. Upon closer investigation, it is indeed entirely vegetarian, filled only with various types of cabbages and dotted with sesame seeds. He should have guessed, seeing that it was Hoseok, another rabbit hybrid, who had made these. As someone who has to eat meat at least once a day, Minhyuk really has no idea how Jooheon (or Hoseok) has managed to survive this far on flimsy greens alone, but the last time he had snuck a piece of chicken into the younger hybrid’s salad he had been pointedly ignored for an entire week. So, he’s definitely learned not to judge at this point.

He goes to shrink away, sticking out his tongue in distaste at the vegetables, but not before he gets a bun shoved into his own hand. Minhyuk tries to push it back, but Jooheon widens his eyes imploringly, asking his friend to at least try it. The elder sighs, but he raises it to his mouth and reluctantly nibbles delicately at the raised tip.

Suddenly, hearty flavor explodes onto his tongue, and now it’s his turn to talk with his mouth full. He exclaims something that sounds like “meat?” as he takes another huge bite, groaning when the pungent taste of fried pork fat drips onto his tongue. Jooheon looks on happily, eyes pressed into slits as he watches Minhyuk gobble down the tiny bun.

“Hoseokie hyung made a separate batch for you too,” he comments when Minhyuk has slowed enough in his ravenous quest to fit as much in his mouth as possible.

The cat hybrid swallows the current bit in his mouth before looking over with surprise in his eyes. “He did?” He looks guiltily at the bun in his hand, appetite suddenly lost. Jooheon hums lowly, dimples still pressed sweetly into a smile.

“I guess I have no right to compete for best hyung when I can’t even cook…” Minhyuk sighs, popping the last bit into his mouth, letting himself savor the flavor one last time.

“I’ll be sure to tell Hoseok hyung he’s won then.” Jooheon replies aloofly, feigning disappointment at Minhyuk’s loss even though he knows there’s no way the cat hybrid will ever concede his own made up title.

As he expects, Minhyuk immediately protests. “No way! I totally came here today on the basis of being the best and the most caring hyung so you can’t hand that title off just yet!”

Jooheon frowns, confused at what the older hybrid means. “You mean coming over and eating takeout, like we do basically every day?”

“No, no,” Minhyuk flaps his hand dismissively, “I actually wanted to talk about something with you. Something serious.”

At Jooheon’s amused expression, he scowls, squinting his eyes and muttering, “If you say anything about me not being capable of having serious talks I’m never buying coffee for you again.”

The rabbit hybrid raises his hands in mock surrender, quietly allowing Minhyuk to continue. The older hybrid clears his throat loudly, angling his body to fully face Jooheon’s. “Your heat is coming up in about a month right?” Of course Minhyuk would know, Jooheon thinks exasperatedly, but he nods along anyway.

“I just think,” the cat hybrid hesitates, tail waving about nervously behind him, “it might be better for you to find an alpha to help you through your heat this time.” He stares, unblinking, at Jooheon, pupils wide as he apprehensively awaits his friend’s reaction.

“I don’t see anything wrong with you helping me through it again,” the younger hybrid mumbles, reaching up to pull hesitantly at a long ear. “Unless,” he pulls harder, using it cover his cheek, “you don’t want to do it anymore.”

He’s hunched over and looking downward, but Minhyuk can tell that Jooheon might just start crying, and he instantly regrets his brash words. He pulls his friend towards him with as much urgency as possible, pushing the rabbit hybrid’s face into his chest as he runs a hand soothingly through the younger’s hair. “You know that’s not true at all,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the crown of Jooheon’s head.

“Then why?” The boy in his embrace retorts with an unfamiliar tone of hostility in his voice. Minhyuk only tightens his hold, burying his hand even deeper within the other’s unruly curls.

“You know how much longer it takes to pass through heat without an alpha. Plainly speaking, with two omegas there’s just too much risk at stake,” he admits softly into a twitching ear. When Jooheon doesn’t reply, he adds bitterly, “It’s not like I really want to find an alpha either.”

“I just want to keep you safe,” he sighs, and suddenly Jooheon is reminded of all those times in highschool where Minhyuk had pledged the exact same thing with the exact same fervor burning through his dark pupils. They had somehow survived those years together, and Jooheon realizes he had always known somewhere in the back of his mind that it was all because of Minhyuk’s unextinguishable spirit and nothing else.

He buries himself into the other’s solid embrace, emotion welling up in his throat at his own selfishness. Of course, Minhyuk wouldn’t have brought it up for any other reason than genuine care for his own well-being. Just the thought of it makes him want to cry even more now. Really, what kind of friend is he?

“Do you understand now?” The cat hybrid asks, slowly loosening his grip around his still-silent friend. A muffled “yes” warms his chest, and Minhyuk can’t help but let loose a deep sigh in relief.

Jooheon gingerly pulls back, rubbing roughly at reddened eyes while avoiding Minhyuk’s gaze at the same time. He mumbles, “I’ve never been with an alpha before, and I definitely don’t know where I’m supposed to find one to pass heat with so how do you propose I even go about doing this?”

The older hybrid pulls away Jooheon’s harsh hand to replace it with his own, calmly brushing away stray tears along raw skin with his thumb. “Maybe,” he teasingly grins, “we could find that messy college student from last week since you seemed to take to him so quickly.”

Jooheon instantly stops crying to glare up at Minhyuk with watery eyes. “Don’t-”

“Agh, I got it, I got it, don’t worry okay?” The cat hybrid soothes urgently, lightly pinching a blotchy cheek. “For sure, we’re not signing you up for any of those weird online services or creepy dating advertisements.” They both think of popups announcing “hot alphas ready to fuck five miles away from your location” and simultaneously shudder at the thought of meeting someone through those kinds of advertisements.

“Then what?” Jooheon sniffles doubtfully as every possible option seems just as bad as the last.

“Well,” Minhyuk grins confidently, leaning back with his hands behind his head, “there is such a thing as a club.”

“No way.” Jooheon glowers with a red-rimmed glare.

Minhyuk pleads with big eyes and a jutting lower lip, ears folded to the side to frame his cute expression. “I’ll be with you there the entire time?”

Jooheon hesitates, especially at the other’s imploring aegyo. “You have to promise then,” he reluctantly agrees, jabbing a finger pointedly into the other’s chest.

Minhyuk makes a face at the sharp poke, but he catches the younger hybrid’s wrist, keeping him in place. “Of course, when have I ever broken one of our promises?” He grins widely, canines glinting brightly in the light.

“Fine.” Jooheon plops down against the cat hybrid’s side, resigning himself to his fate. “When are we going out then?”

Minhyuk’s sharp grin grows disturbingly sinister in the soft afternoon light. “How about tomorrow night?”

Chapter 3: the club is the best place to find a lover (so that is where I go)

Summary: A lot of times things tend to go quite smoothly with good intentions - but well, it’s a bit more complex with matters involving love. A club is definitely not the first place to work those things out at, but fate somehow makes it happen against all odds anyway.

“No,” is the first thing Jooheon says upon stepping into his apartment, not even looking up as he toes off his vans at the door.

“Oh come on!” Minhyuk exclaims from his position behind the couch, crouching over what he had thought were well-hidden potential outfits for the night. He scans over them casually, proud approval pinging warmly through his stomach because he had personally chosen every piece with the intention of making each outfit look damn good and boy do they look good now, even against the garish orange of Jooheon’s couch.

“I’m not putting my lower half into anything that could potentially cut off my circulation,” Jooheon retorts, brushing past a sulking Minhyuk to the already open door of his bedroom.

As he begins rummaging through his closet for something he would actually be able to fit into, a distant “your ass would look great in these” comes floating in from the living room, prompting Jooheon to bury his head into stuffy cotton, muffling his ears into heavy sweaters and loose sweatpants.

Finally, among all of his aforementioned sweaters and generally comfortable pieces of clothing, he finally manages to dig out the one shirt he owns that is vaguely acceptable for club wear. It’s a plain black tee that’s just tight enough to show off what Minhyuk refers to as his so-called “curves,” but not to the point of becoming a second skin. Which are, unfortunately, the majority of the clothes the older owns and has currently laid out along the couch to force him into for the night.

He grabs his favorite pair of black jeans, tossing them casually onto the bed next to the plain shirt, huffing minutely as he looks over what he personally deems a perfectly adequate clubbing outfit. The jeans beckon welcoming in all its faded, ripped glory, well-worn and stretched out from years of loving use. He also has to admit, ears twitching bashfully just at the thought, he’s gotten more than enough compliments in these, especially from Minhyuk himself.

“No way,” Jooheon jumps, jerking out of his fond reverie, to see said person leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as he bluntly stares down the younger’s outfit choice. His face is blank, lips slightly pulled into a frown as he glares at Jooheon over the rim of his round glasses with a distinct sulk. Even from this distance he can already tell how boringly conservative the other’s combination of clothing must be, and he strides forward, every part of him ready to change that.

“The shirt…” he reaches over onto the bed, fingering the hem, considering it critically as he pictures how it would look on Jooheon. It’s not bad, and at least it’s tighter than the usual baggy sweaters the younger hybrid pulls on during the week, so he moves on, grudgingly allowing the offending article to stay.

It’s a different story when he reaches the pants, though. He knows this pair of jeans well; too well as he’s the culprit for making Jooheon like them so much. He’s guilty - he admits to it, but the way the tight crease of those pants sticks to Jooheon’s already perky backside always compels his mouth to begin moving before his brain can even register what it’s saying. He sighs, slightly bashful as he confronts his own self-afflicted mistake, running his eyes over the pair of old jeans flopped sadly before him, heart twinging when he’s hit by a wave of pathetic pleading. Minhyuk acknowledges it with a minute, knowing nod, but sacrifices must be made.

It’s all for a higher cause he tells himself, averting his eyes from Jooheon’s woeful pout as he pushes the pants aside, leaving them in a rumpled pile on the darkened corner of the bed. While they do paint the rabbit hybrid’s thighs on full, glorious display Minhyuk knows they won’t even be able to compare to the view tonight when he forces Jooheon into the pair he’s already chosen and laid out against the couch. Trust him, he knows it’s going to be one of the most breathtaking views he’ll ever have the pleasure of witnessing, and his everyday job involves him literally getting into the faces of Korea’s top models so he’s speaking the plain, honest truth here.

However, when he looks over, Jooheon is anything but supportive of his genius idea, the younger man’s expression flattening in obvious distaste. Still, even as a surge of defensiveness flares through him, Minhyuk still can’t stop his heart from melting just a slight bit at the minute twitching of the rabbit hybrid’s perked nose. It’s really just an automatic movement, an appeal to the nervousness of his animal side, but the innocent worry in his eyes and the adorable wrinkle of his cheeks are part of the small list of things that are always able to make Minhyuk grow willingly weaker inside every time he chances upon their precious display.

Tonight though, he holds strong with an iron grip around his soft, fleshy heart as he forces himself to think of all the alphas who will thank him for making Jooheon wear something else besides ratty old sweaters and saggy sweatpants. Not that he can’t appreciate that kind of view on a lazy, rose-tinted Sunday morning, snuggled in layers of thick blankets-

Minhyuk flicks an ear jerkily, shaking himself out of his abruptly derailing train of thought, exasperated at his own apparent lack of focus on the situation at hand. Which is currently plopped before him, unmoving and stubbornly refusing any of his thoroughly planned out outfit choices with a pointed pout. The cat hybrid stares him down, one leg bent, tapping out a muffled rhythm with socked toes, but otherwise remaining just as still.

“I’m not going to-”

“You don’t even know how good-”

They both begin at the same time cutting into each other’s sentences with brisk surprise, but it’s Minhyuk who takes advantage of the quick pause to interject the remainder of his rushed words.

“You don’t even know how good you’d look in the pair that I picked out for you,” he argues defensively, cocking his hip to the side, black tail swishing through the air in wide, agitated circles.

“Yeah well, not when they’re your pair of extra skinny, size zero, boot-cut, leather casings of pure torture!” Jooheon protests, edging away from Minhyuk’s slowly advancing figure, fine terror bleeding into his slanted eyes.

“Wait,” the cat hybrid jolts to a stop, temporarily stunned into pausing his single- minded journey in making Jooheon fit into the aforementioned pants, because apparently he already knows which exact pair they are, down to the size and even the cut of the hem. He voices his surprise out loud, eyes widening incredulously as he asks, “How did you know which pair it was?”

The rabbit hybrid’s face immediately fills with color, blooming across his round cheeks in pink patches. He pulls his ears down to hide his blush, muffling his embarrassment into the cottony down of his rumpled fur. He breathes in and out in uneven drawls as he tries to muster up his voice, hidden somewhere in the tiny crevice of his chest, barely managing to squeak out “Because you wear them a lot and -” before looking down and gluing his eyes to the edge of the bed as he mumbles the rest of his sentence so indistinctly, Minhyuk can barely make out the jumbled bits of sounds and syllables.

“What’d you just say?” he leans forward, an undeniable sense of glee creeping into the amused curve of his lips.

Jooheon still refuses to look up, ears twitching numbly against his burning cheeks. “I said,” he starts, catching a glimpse of the cat hybrid’s mirthful expression before immediately clenching his eyes shut and letting his confession tumble out of his mouth in a runoff stream of rushed words, “that you always look really good when you wear those pants out okay?”

It’s deathly silent for a moment with Jooheon smooshing his hands over the sweaty mess of his rapidly heating face mixed with the suffocating cling of his fur. If he could choke himself into non-existence right now without any lasting pain he would gladly take that opportunity. On the other side of the wall of silence, Minhyuk is still, but for completely different reasons. There’s a kind of warm excitement tingling through him, seeping from the tips of his twitching ears to his toes as he realizes just how much of an absolutely precious being the blushing bunny in front of him actually is.

Which is why he hurriedly crosses the miniscule space left between them with no intention of letting anymore bothersome obstacles stop him in his way again this afternoon. He’s right there, feet planted firmly in front of the younger’s hunched figure, but when Jooheon finally glances up, pulling himself out of his mortified stupor, he’s suddenly gone in, knocking into the other boy with a forceful hug, pushing the both of them onto the bed with a bouncing thump and a groaning squeak. The cheap mattress quivers upon the sudden impact, and Jooheon thinks numbly in the back of his mind that this will be the day his bed finally throws in the towel and gives in to its inevitable fate after two years of very loving use.

Thankfully the creaking eventually desists, and Jooheon releases the breath he was holding into the trapped space of Minhyuk’s smothering embrace. He tries to wiggle around discretely, testing the hold around him and completely failing as the cat hybrid doesn’t even allow a semblance of movement from his position locked around and above him. Jooheon’s hands are still pressed securely between their bodies, and he wonders what is the point of cuddling like this if he can’t even return the embrace. He settles for doing what he can, nuzzling lightly into the hazy mix of Minhyuk’s shampoo combined with the sweet hint of cherry blossoms, patting awkwardly at the other’s shoulder with what limited mobility he has. A slim ear flicks slightly against his face, but otherwise Minhyuk continues on, undisturbed, with rumbling purrs and rubbing whatever inch of clothing and skin he can get his clingy cat hairs onto.

Jooheon is slowly dozing off into the snug space, coddled in the warm blanket of Minhyuk’s scent, so familiar and soothing around him. Unfortunately, his trapped arms are numbing into a state of paralysis in their awkwardly bent position, but the solid weight of another affectionate body on top of his own is all that’s needed to quickly woo him into the land of dreams. Cuddling has always been his kryptonite, and even as uncomfortable as the position is now, he gives in just as softly as every other time in the past.

His mind is detaching whimsically from his body, crawling sleepily through the melted sea of his consciousness, when Minhyuk’s deep purrs haltingly change into gently murmured sentences. He tries to pull himself out of his blurry dreams, blinking away dancing cabbages and talking cups of coffee to hesitantly push against the older man’s smothering embrace. “I can’t hear what you’re even saying,” he gasps tumbling onto his side and flailing his arms out loosely as he’s finally released from the other’s iron hold.

Minhyuk watches adoringly as Jooheon runs his fingers worriedly through the tangled length of his twitching ears, feeling his way sulkily through new knots in his already messed up fur. Minhyuk props himself up onto his elbows, still flopped against the bed as his slitted pupils track every delicate movement of the rabbit hybrid’s curled fingers.

The minute Jooheon deems the state of his long ears vaguely satisfactory, dropping his hands away from his head, Minhyuk immediately rolls into the empty space next to him and tucks their faces together, cheek to cheek, his rusty brown locks intermingling with Jooheon’s strands of blonde.

“So you admit you were looking, huh?” he sighs, eyes curled shut in lazy satisfaction as he noses into the soft skin at the base Jooheon’s ear, breathing in a sweet fog of honey and lavender.

A white ear twitches slightly against his own sharper one in vague acknowledgment, and Minhyuk giggles breathily, his laugh tickling the sensitive nerves in the furry appendage. Jooheon shivers, face scrunching and relaxing in tiny increments as he tries to not curl up into a ball at the acute prickles running across his skin.

He fails two second later, an uncontrollable snort tearing its way out of his mouth, as he jerks into a fetal position with Minhyuk’s breath still squished into the bare crook of his tensed neck. “Yes, yes, you looked great in them okay? Now let me -ah-” he gasps, words breaking as a soft puff of air is deliberately blown into the pink cavern of his poor ears. His drawn out shriek of “stop!” is futile in the face of Minhyuk’s asphyxiating smother.

“You’re so fucking adorable,” the cat hybrid mutters, pressing as close as physically possible. The erratic beating of his heart is accelerating wildly as the intoxicating smell of honey saturates the air, tinged with a bitter edge of panic. It’s the latter scent that pulls him out of his frenzied cuddling, forcing him to extricate his heavy limbs from around Jooheon’s soft body and the inviting incense of pungent lavender and rich honey.

It’s practically dripping out of the air, viscous amber weighing down the space around them with the denseness of a hot summer’s storm as Jooheon sits up with angry red cheeks and glazed over eyes. Minhyuk stands back, head spinning woozily with vertigo and something more primal as he feels heat seep through his own face. Jooheon stares up at him, open and vulnerable, smelling like he’s ready to be presented before the whole world on a lavish platter.

Minhyuk coughs shifting his gaze sharply to the side and away from the other’s lost gaze, gentle brown pools that are melting all of his hard angles and edges as they beseechingly pull him in for some kind of help. He inevitably obliges, his feet automatically dragging him to stand in front of the still sitting rabbit hybrid, presenting himself before the other’s searching gaze.

Jooheon immediately burrows his face into the tight plane of Minhyuk’s stomach, winding his arms around the other’s middle and clenching his fingers desperately into the flat fabric of the elder’s button down, hoping to ground himself in the hard familiarity of his friend’s presence. He takes a deep breath, the fire in his gut simmering low as the overpowering bite of whiskey and cherry blossom dissipates the heavy cloud of honey and lavender in the air.

The cat hybrid runs his fingers through light curls, back and forth in a slow hypnotic motions as trembling breaths shakily dampen the thin fabric plastered against his stomach. “Do you think you’re ready to get dressed now?” he hums, placing a steady hand at the back of Jooheon’s bared neck, spreading his fingers across it in a loose anchoring hold.

Jooheon nods, face still hidden in Minhyuk’s shirt, reluctantly untangling his clawed grip from around the other’s waist. He sighs, sitting back, ducking his slightly overheated face down towards the safety of his lap. The warm hand gripped gently around his neck slips away, and Jooheon immediately misses its heated imprint against his skin. He breathes in the air, finally free of his own thick, viscous scent, and runs his hand over the back of his neck, over the ghost of Minhyuk’s touch, to try and jerk himself out of his feverish haze and back to grounding reality. “I think so,” he murmurs cautiously, a trail of pink dotted in an unfamiliar constellation over the ridge of his cheeks as he begins fiddling with the curls scattered across his forehead.

“Good,” Minhyuk leans down, giving a quick peck to the younger’s fingertips as they busy themselves with untangling messy blonde strands. “I know I look good in those pants,” he laughs lightly, reaching a hand out to pull a still blushing rabbit hybrid to his feet. “But wait until we get them on you,” he murmurs, a playful light glinting through the graceful curve of his eyes again.

Jooheon’s cheeks rapidly color, honey and lavender spiking wildly in the air for a second time, but he stays docilely silent, only laying his head softly against Minhyuk’s shoulders as he allows himself to be led to the certain death of his nether regions.

After all, he sighs, returning the steadfast grip around his hand, it’s only for one night. How bad can it really be?

---------

It’s pretty bad.

Jooheon swears under his breath, already losing feeling in his tightly bound calves as he tries to pull the edge of the pants over his ass. His poor boxer briefs are doing everything in their power to shield his lower half from the world, but with every inch of the tight leather slipping over his butt, the more his underwear rides up into dark unspeakable places.

Finally, he pulls the waistband over the fullest part of his backside with an audible stretching of the seams. His puffball of a tail is just a little too big to fit through the slim back-end hole made for the long sleekness of a cat’s tail, so he manually yanks out the furry bit stuck under the tight fabric, whining loudly when bits of fur literally tear off into his palms.

By now, his underwear has rucked so far up his ass, he might as well be going commando at this point. He turns the thought over in his head, deliberating the decision as his fingers linger hesitantly over the front zipper. Sure, it might give him a slight breath of comfort in this leather hell, but he knows the second he peels off his second, much tighter layer of skin, there is now way in all the high heavens he’ll ever be able to fit himself into it ever again. Half-thong it is then, he grimaces, sentencing himself to his fate for the evening as he zips himself into his leather cage.

Just as he pops in the last button, holding his breath as he removes his hands, waiting for the inevitable moment every single stitch rips apart, a whiny “are you done?” floats in from outside the sweltering closet.

“Yeah,” he shouts back, eyes rapidly flickering back down to his waist to make sure he’s still decent and not just covered in ripped tatters of cloth. The pants stay valiantly fastened around him, the waist line squeezing painfully into the soft flesh of his stomach. There’s definitely going to be red marks later.

“Yeah?” Minhyuk mirrors his answer, loud and lilting. “Why don’t you come out then?” Jooheon gulps, his voice failing him as he looks down at his leather-clad legs again. The thing is, while he may have been able to wrestle these things on, he’s not sure if he’ll even be able to walk in them, much less grind in them at the club.

Not that he’ll be doing any of that, he panics, mortified at his own traitorous conscience.

“Jooheonie?” Minhyuk’s teasing call comes again.

“Coming,” he sighs, tugging his shirt down over the curve of his stomach, shielding it with his hand for a hesitant moment as he thinks about all the different, less revealing and actually comfy sweatshirts he could change into right now. The brisk metronome of Minhyuk’s tapping foot filters in, and Jooheon’s long ears immediately turning towards the sound, sensing the impatience in the other’s erratic rhythm. He sighs, abandoning the thought as he takes his first few waddling steps towards the closet door.

Minhyuk sits up rapidly from his lounging position against the bed, pupils growing wide and round as the closet finally squeaks open. His tail cuts through the air like a black scythe, flicking agitatedly with audible swishes as he waits anxiously for his first glance of the other hybrid.

Two white tips bob out from the dark interior, followed by a cautious head of blonde curls as shaking brown irises shift over to Minhyuk for a second before quickly attaching their gaze to the ground instead. The cat hybrid takes in a deep silent breath, not daring to make any sounds in this tense moment of hesitance. Eventually, Jooheon shuffles entirely out of his shadowed haven, reluctantly stepping his tightly clad body into the light and revealing himself before Minhyuk’s wide gaze.

When an eternity seems to pass without even a sound from the older hybrid, Jooheon resorts to pulling his ears down over his rapidly burning face, shuffling his socked foot against the ground as he muffles a silent scream of utter mortification into his tangled fur. After emptying out the full extent of his lung capacity, he peeks past the hazy edge of his ear, trying to carefully gauge Minhyuk’s expression.

The other hybrid’s gaze is hooded, eyelashes almost dipping to his cheeks as he looks over Jooheon with slow, half-lidded appraisal, a deep silence overtaking the space between them as quickly as the shadows crossing his slitted pupils. He places his chin on the edge of his curled palm, leaning his elbow on the sleek line of his crossed legs as he tilts his head minutely to the side, looking almost sleepy in his quiet deliberation. Under curved lids, though, is a look that’s nothing if not vividly awake, the silky want threading through his dark gaze making Jooheon’s poor rabbit heart jackhammer even harder against his rib cage.

“Turn.” Minhyuk utters the single word, the sound of it echoing so loudly around the room after what had only been prolonged heated silence for so long.

Jooheon hastily obeys on instinct, his body aching to move after being locked in place for what had felt like hours on end. He shuffles around in an awkward circle, still scared that the moment he steps a little too far out from his center of gravity, his ears will immediately be met by a dreaded sequence of ripping noises. He ends up finishing the turn more of a waddle than an actual spin, long ears still unknowingly pulled against his pinking cheeks as he keeps his eyes glued to the taut fabric that’s still somehow wholly intact around his bound legs.

“Damn,” Minhyuk breaths out with a soft whistle, too low to register in Jooheon’s extremely flustered mind. Forget every big-eyed, stick-thin model he’s ever worked with: the tight creases accentuating the round curve of the younger man’s ass are more impressive than all the shows he’s worked combined. Even the minute movements of shifting from one foot to the other pulls the fabric so perfectly across his thighs, Minhyuk seriously questions why he’s never gotten Jooheon to do this before, because he’s honestly having an out-of-body experience just looking at the smooth shift of thick muscle encased so tightly, so perfectly under black leather.

Yeah, he thinks, jumping to his feet, bounding across the floor with rushed steps and smug appreciation coursing hotly through his veins - this was definitely a good idea.

He reaches Jooheon, who’s still suffering with his face smothered in the furry cage of his ears, and he cups his palms over the back of the other’s unmoving clenched hands, massaging over them with slow sweeps of his slightly cooler fingers. “I’m sure you think otherwise, but holy shit,” he coos, breathlessly, reverently, “you look good enough to eat in these.” He clicks his teeth together in a playful whisper of a soft purr against Jooheon’s covered cheek.

A pair of brown irises blink up over the pink curve of two flushed moons obscured by tufts of white fluff, a myriad of emotions glistening through them with the fractioning multiplicity of a kaleidoscope. Among sheer embarrassment, confusion, and anxiousness Minhyuk can see a piece of reluctant acceptance reflecting the lazy satisfaction on his own face, He strokes his thumb over a strip of exposed, heated flesh, the edges of lips curling into a smile as the hands under his slowly uncurl, letting twitching ears spring back to their towering position atop Jooheon’s head. Minhyuk hums happily, pressing his lips to the younger’s forehead as he envisions the rest of the night illuminated in bright violet flashes of club lights and the heated fog of clamoring scents.

He can’t wait, he thinks, running his hand through loose curls, scratching distractedly at the base of the soft bone in tall ears he eventually encounters in his habitual petting session.

Jooheon shifts forward, opting to hide his face in the older hybrid’s shoulder, wrapping himself around the other’s slim figure as he pushes his head needingly into the other’s bemused touch. Minhyuk snaps out of his his dreamy daze when a head of soft fluff bobs obtrusively into his face, reminding him of the task still left at hand.

“We’ve got to style your hair too,” he murmurs, pressing long, knowing fingers to all of the rabbit hybrid’s favorite spots, blowing floating flecks of short fur like dandelion puffs away from his face.

“Wait, what -” Jooheon suddenly jerks up, dislodging Minhyuk’s pleasurable touch from his prickling scalp, vague regret pinging in the back of his mind as the soothing spark in his nerves begins fizzing away. “I thought making me put this on,” he motions to the tight line of his body, “was enough for the night?”

“I just have a feeling okay?” Minhyuk grins, eyes curving into slits as he drops his hands to grab Jooheon’s hanging pair, linking their fingers together and swinging their interlaced grips between their bodies like a playground swing.

“Does this feeling include anything else?” Jooheon squints suspiciously at Minhyuk’s innocent smile, too sweet and plain for him to not have any hidden intentions. Either way, he allows his hands to be tugged along, long fingers tangling around his shorter own, until his whole body has ended up in front of the old dressing table, spilling over with Minhyuk’s various makeup, face, and hair products.

“Hmm, I don’t know?” Minhyuk murmurs, injecting an air of questioning wonder into his steady voice. “Maybe some eyeliner,” he reveals warming up some hair gel between his palms. “Some eyeshadow perhaps,” he whispers, low, Jooheon shivering as the first cool stroke rakes back the hair across his sensitive scalp. “Then, just a touch of pink lip gloss,” the cat hybrid hums, sweeping back soft bangs with a few quick experienced flicks of his fingers, laying each blonde strand exactly where it should be.

“And then that’s it?” Jooheon sighs, dropping his gaze to his lap to watch his fingers intertwine nervously, pulling and pressing at each other as the wet gel hands finally slips out of his now stiff bird’s nest crown of hair.

“Well,” Minhyuk pauses to take in his work, a deep rumble of satisfaction rolling up from his chest to his throat. “I have a pair of boots and a jacket that I want you to try on with this outfit.”

Jooheon groans cupping his face in his hands, ignoring the uttered protest of “hey!” as his errant fingers mess up the gelled crown piled above his forehead. “Do I really need to be dolled up to this extent?” He catches a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror, and he instantly shifts his gaze to the side before his brain can truly register the strange reflection staring back at him. “It’s not like anyone is going to be looking anyway,” he mutters faintly, obscuring his words into this cheek as he squishes his face against his palm.

Minhyuk’s ears flick sharply at the younger’s last statement, a semblance of annoyance flashing off his face as quickly as it appeared. He chooses to leave it hanging in the air, unacknowledged, preferring to fiddle meticulously with the fallen strands of Jooheon’s styled hair instead. When he finishes, personally deeming his masterpiece satisfactory, he leans his upper body over the back of the chair, sprawling his arms lazily over Jooheon’s shoulders and hooking them together in a tight embrace under the younger hybrid’s chin, forcing him to look up and meet his own reflection squarely in the eye.

Minhyuk presses the side of his head to Jooheon’s cheek, locking his elbows in stiff angles under the pretense of giving the other man an affectionate hug, intentionally trapping the rabbit hybrid’s gaze in place. “I think,” he declares, voice easy and unfaltering, directly meeting Jooheon’s shifting eyes in the mirror, “if I tell you that you look good enough to eat, then you should know just how many people are going to be noticing you at the club. Trust me,” he grins wide, long canines on show, flicking his sharp ear against a round cheek, “nobody paying attention to you is going to be the least of your problems for tonight.”

He finally extricates his limbs from around Jooheon’s body, allowing the younger to slump away from his own exhausting reflection. He steps to the front of the chair, fast and light on the balls of his feet, sweeping an eye over the pile of products before picking out a stick of liquid eyeliner from his innumerable collection. “Now,” he looms over Jooheon, tool dangling loosely but readily in hand, “let me do your makeup.”

The younger hybrid releases a long suffering sigh, but he willingly turn his face up into Minhyuk’s fluttering fingers, closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the other’s confident touch for the night.

As cool fingers line, smear, blend, and paint across his face with absolute precision, Jooheon tells himself no matter how odd, how unfamiliar he ends up looking, Minhyuk will be there with him for the entire night. That thought quiets the buzzing voice of doubt in his heart, and he takes a dragging breath, preparing himself for all that could come.

It’s just a club, he tells himself, lids fluttering as a wet line is drawn smoothly across his skin. A place for an adult like him to do adult things with other adults. He can do this, he thinks, chanting it like a mantra, envisioning the words as silent ripples in an endless sea, I can do this.

---------

“What are you looking for?” Changkyun mutters from under his hooded layer of blankets, barely glancing away from his laptop screen to actually figure out what his roommate is up to.

Sehun groans, crouched on all fours, bushy tail perked high in the air as he sticks his neck awkwardly under their bunk beds, trying his hardest to keep his face from making contact with a floor that hasn’t been cleaned for God knows how long. “My scent enhancer,” he sighs, crawling back out and collapsing onto his side when he finds nothing but dust balls and discarded candy wrappers, courtesy of Changkyun of course.

“Why would you even need that?” Changkyun questions flatly, eyes still glued to his computer screen, two blue rectangles imprinted in his round pupils.

“Unlike you,” Sehun sits up with an audible pop of his back, wincing as he ruffles the wild fur of his triangular ears, “some of us actually go out to have fun, instead of-” he collapses onto the bed with a heavy bounce, dislodging the edge of Changkyun’s blanket just a slight inch off his head as he wedges his face past the younger hybrid’s disgruntled shoulder to get a glimpse of the video that has the boy so entranced.

“-watching ‘Bang to the Up [Yongkuk x Jongup BAP] Moments’?” He reads the title of the video word for word, incredulously poking a finger at the screen to point out the unfortunate misspelling and consequently blocking out the miniscule hint of Yongguk and Jongup holding hands at the very corner of the window, forcing Changkyun to immediately drag the progress bar back by two extremely important seconds. He ends up having to watch the trail end of a previous clip, but he doesn’t mind re-examining the grainy 360p resolution look in Yongguk’s assumably gentle gaze as he takes Jongup’s hand in his own in their practice room during a V live stream.

Sehun continues watching out of sheer curiosity, chin hooked over the blanketed crook of Changkyun’s shoulder, watching the younger wolf hybrid spend at least twenty minutes (if not more) pausing and rewinding a ten minute video to stare silently at the still images, scrutinizing them for any hidden signs of affection beyond the platonic kind.

“I can’t believe this is how you like to spend your free time. Is this what you stay up to four a.m. doing on school nights?” Sehun questions after the cheesy and completely unfitting music dies down as the screen fades into a wall of recommended videos, three of which are Yongguk and Jongup compilations and the other three being various B.A.P member fancams. Now Sehun vaguely recalls somewhere in the back of his mind Changkyun had mentioned something about running some fan account that he made sure to update daily for his fellow “Bangup shippers.” Sehun’s not sure of the username, but he knows it’s definitely beyond cringeworthy.

“Actually, I’m up to four writing my lab report on school nights,” Changkyun replies, unblinking, as he hovers his mouse over the thumbnail of a Jongup fancam, ready to figure out the true extent of flexibility in the dancer’s hips. “But otherwise, yes.”

The heavy bass of Try My Luck immediately begins blasting out of the laptop speakers, and Sehun sighs, body unwillingly swaying along to the familiar beat. He admits, purely from a technical perspective, he can appreciate the way the idol dances with full control over every single muscle in his body, moving exactly as he wants to be seen without a moment of fault nor hesitation. Sehun is rightfully impressed, but the intense focus in Changkyun’s unmoving gaze contains something way beyond plain admiration. “You’re kind of scary, dude. Are you sure you’re not obsessed?” he whispers, automatically flinching back when a flat glare pierces through the pile of blankets towards his impulsive mouth.

Changkyun stares him down for a moment longer, black eyes still and emotionless as the blankets shift slightly atop his twitching ears. It lasts for a few torturous seconds more before he decides he’d much rather preoccupy himself with watching Yongguk’s Yamazaki MV for the tenth time, so he turns away from Sehun’s braced-for-impact expression to drag his mouse up to the search bar. He barely gets the first five letters in before Youtube’s drop down hint of suggestions has exactly what he’s looking for as the first item, highlighted in purple. He allows himself a victorious grin, tightening his make shift cape around his shoulders as the eerie twang of a traditional gayageum starts up, a red warning sign flashing gaudily across his screen.

“Come on,” Sehun whines, shrinking back from the intense visuals blaring brightly from Changkyun’s laptop. “Wouldn’t you rather come out and dance for one night instead of watching-” he motions shakily at the screen, “a chicken get its head chopped off?”

“You like grinding up on strangers, and I like supporting my favorite idols, okay?” Changkyun retorts shortly, tail thumping compulsively against the bed to the fast-paced beat.

The violent music video finally draws to a dramatic close, Yongguk’s handsome face stained with bloody streaks, flashing in red and black for one last epileptic moment before fading into darkness. Sehun shivers, every hair from the tip of his tail to his ears standing on end at the remnant of the low growl from the rapper in the video. He stretches his arms above his head, scooching his back willfully against Changkyun’s hunched own as he yawns loudly to try and dispel the goosebumps prickling over his exposed skin.

As a feeling of normalcy eventually settles back into his scarred psyche, he turns around only to see Changkyun’s mouse poised and ready to click on another B.A.P video. He takes in a deep, bated breath and decides, right then and there, as a fellow and older wolf hybrid he’s got to take some responsibility to get the younger boy out there and at least improve his currently nonexistent chances of finding a mate.

“Are you sure,” he stresses the last word so hard, his head bobs slightly with its strong inflection, “completely sure that you don’t want to come with me and potentially meet someone?” Changkyun nods lightly, a single eyebrow raised as if saying “are you seriously asking me that question right now?”

Sehun collapses back against the bed with a frustrated huff, blowing his bangs into a scattered fan across his forehead. He tugs on a few strands absentmindedly, reminding himself he definitely needs to style them up before going out as he grumbles casually, “Have you ever even taken interest in anyone besides your perfect idols?”

He asks that question rhetorically, more out of pure frustration than actual curiosity because he fully expects the answer to be an immediate “no.” However, when the pause that passes is a little too long for Changkyun to be rationally considering an answer, he rolls over onto his stomach, ears perked in surprised curiosity towards the younger’s blanketed figure. He scooches forward, lanky elbows digging into the mattress until he’s close enough to look up and see Changkyun’s half-cloaked face.

The younger hybrid has a completely blank look glassed over his eyes, and his hand has paused over the tracking pad, B.A.P video temporarily forgotten. What really tips Sehun off to the fact that he may have actually been wrong in his assumption is the light dusting of pink over what are usually flat, undisturbed cheekbones. Changkyun blinks, pensive and hazy, slowly slipping out of his fleeting thoughts, dazedly unaware of Sehun’s sly gaze trained on him from below.

“So,” the older hybrid prompts, casually sliding his elbows onto Changkyun’s sweatpant-clad knee, knocking the other boy’s computer off his lap in the process. “You do have someone in mind.” He grins, canines peeking out against his bottom lip.

When the younger hybrid chooses to stay silent, opting to fumble for his dislodged laptop instead, Sehun’s toothy grin only grows wider. He can already see his plan taking on a plausible form, even as Changkyun goes back to hiding behind his badly edited Yongguk and Jongup shipping videos, rapidly clicking on a random one without even reading its title to cover up his rising panic.

“So,” Sehun starts again, talking over the loud clamor of the video’s background music because he knows Changkyun is listening, despite his uninterested facade. “Do you wanna come with me to the club and potentially meet that someone again?”

“No,” the younger wolf grunts, pulling his blanket down further to cover the short, furry points of his ears. “Because there was never anyone in the first place.” He thinks silently, bitterly, to himself, what are the chances of seeing that person again tonight, at some random club, anyway? It must be statistically impossible, and so there’s basically no point of him risking that chance and potentially making a fool of himself, when he could just stay safely in his bed all night with a definite zero percent chance of embarrassing himself there.

Sehun feigns disappointment, scrunching his face into an exaggerated pout as he sits up, leaning his shoulder against Changkyun’s. “Wolf-to-wolf,” he says, voice low and silky, “haven’t you ever felt that urge our ancestors succumbed to every month under the bright moon? To chase, to hunt, to catch our mates and press them down onto the raw earth and bond with them there for life.” He slings a heavy arm around Changkyun’s shoulder, the causal weight of it pulling off the younger’s blanket hood, revealing ears alert and turned towards his direction, ears that have heard and absorbed every one of his murmured words.

“Stop,” Changkyun mumbles, immediately angling his ears downwards as he scratches at a nonexistent itch on the side of his head. “That’s so dirty…and ancient,” his protests trail off as he struggles to make one last futile comment, “and uncivilized…” He goes quiet, all kinds of explicit images flashing across his pupils, forcing the coarse hairs on his tail and ears to rise in some kind of unspoken anticipation to Sehun’s primitive suggestions.

“So,” the perpetrator suggests for the third time, looking more like a shrewd fox in the moment rather than a wolf, “you’re legal right?” He nudges his body playfully against the younger’s, gripping him roughly around his bony shoulder.

“Yeah,” Changkyun unwillingly replies, “I’m only two years younger than you, okay?”

“You certainly don’t look like it,” Sehun mutters to himself, sliding his arm off from around the younger’s shoulders and ducking under the top bunk to rise to his full slender height.

“You’re only jealous because I’m actually more mature than you,” Changkyun quips calmly, throwing off the rest of the blanket and sliding his socked feet onto the cluttered floor. He wobbles up, shuffling over to his open closet, computer screen fading to black as the Bangup video sits finished and forgotten.

Sehun narrows his eyes at the comment, pressing his lips together tightly before he says something that completely destroys his hard-won victory. He settles for a few slow, meditation-type breaths, pulling and pushing from the depths of his stomach as he searches for something calm and not offensive to say about Changkyun’s measly height out loud. He settles on a vaguely satisfied, “So you’re coming after all?” directed at the other’s turned back.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Changkyun replies noncommittally, rifling through well worn hoodies and ratty old high school t-shirts that are somehow still a size too big on him.

Sehun keeps his mouth shut, expression flat and unimpressed as he preoccupies himself with finding his bottle of scent enhancer before he gets sassed again with more sharp words. He swears he’s searched in every plausible, and even some implausible places already, but so far, no sign of a tiny glass bottle filled up halfway with clear unassuming liquid. He rotates slowly on the spot, not exactly sure where to proceed from this standstill point.

“Hyung,” a deep voice calls from behind him, and Sehun pivots quickly, his long tail batting against his leg as he sees Changkyun fully changed and dressed with something dangling between his forefinger and thumb. He immediately propels his body into action, striding forward until he’s close enough to yank the small bottle up to his eyes and confirm that, yes, it is indeed his lost scent enhancer.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Changkyun supplies dryly, filling up the silence when Sehun only continues gawking, open-mouthed, at his weird perfume. “I’m guessing you tossed it into my closet when you came in at like three in the morning last Wednesday or something.”

Sehun’s lips form a plain o of realization as he dimly recalls getting roaring drunk at some sorority party and having to stumble through multiple campuses to get back to his dorm. At this point, he only remembers slurring something incomprehensible to the worried RA and tripping over rolled posters, presumably of Changkyun’s Korean idols, and slamming face first into his pillowless bed. At some dark, unconscious point, he assumes he must’ve used whatever little motor skills he had left to take off what he could and toss it into the vicinity of the nearest closet. Which was, apparently, Changkyun’s.

“Thanks,” he hums simply, quickly uncapping the bottle and rolling the wet tip in three small swipes over the back of his neck.

Changkyun scrunches his nose as Sehun’s musk immediately fills the air, weighing the air down with the heavy moisture of coming rain before a great storm. “I still don’t understand why you use that. I mean, you stink loud enough without it on a daily basis already.”

One of Sehun’s ears flicks sharply against his head, pulled by an exposed nerve as he tries to ignore the younger’s casual insult. “If you’ve ever even been to a club,” he pauses, pointedly stating a silent implication towards Changkyun’s unimpressed stare, “you would know just how hard it is to pick out a single scent in the mixed mess there. This,” he holds up the bottle between them, “is basically a necessity if you want a potential partner to recognize you again.”

Changkyun blinks, eyelashes flickering in a rapid sequence of understanding as he absorbs the surprisingly logical information streaming out of Sehun’s usually bullshit mouth.

“Which is why,” the older wolf smiles charmingly, suddenly stepping behind him and placing an iron grip on his shoulder to keep him from running away. “I think it would be a good idea for you to use some of it as well.”

When Changkyun only remains tensed and silent underneath his hands, Sehun tightens his grip, pressing hard with thin fingers and then completely letting go. He pats the still-raised shoulder with a gentle push, sighing with an air of defeat. “Well, if you don’t want to, I’m not going to be the one to force you out of being a stupid young pup.”

Changkyun bristles at the demeaning name, ears pressing flat against the back of his head as he rapidly turns, snatching away Sehun’s scent enhancer in one lightning strike and swiping it on in broad patches over the back of his neck. They’re both hit by the consequence of his brash actions almost immediately on the spot, both of them staggering backwards in a fruitless effort to escape the truly overpowering haze of the younger boy’s pungent scent.

“I think I put on a bit too much…” Changkyun supplies by way of an apology as the older hybrid glares at him, clear across from the other side of the room.

It’s Sehun’s turn to be blunt and sarcastic as he bites out, “Yeah, no shit sherlock, are you trying to woo every single omega in the club back to our dorm?” Even opening his mouth to talk allows the smell of bitter cinnamon to coat the entire interior of his throat, so he snaps his jaw shut with a loud click and pulls the loose collar of his shirt up to his nose.

Changkyun glares back, just as unamused, but possibly suffering even more as the charred smoke of cinnamon and apples settles slickly, like a sheen of oil, over his skin. He crumples to the flavor, dropping his head into his hands as he rests his elbows on raised knees. In a moment, he begins messing with his hair, dragging black strands away from his forehead with little success as they only curl back to their previous position, albeit slightly more rumpled.

Sehun quickly disappears into the bathroom, rummaging around with worrying clacks of various bottles against the crowded sink, before re-emerging with wet wipes in one hand and a bottle of styling gel in the other. He slowly approaches the younger boy’s hunched figure with stilted steps, breathing in and out through his mouth the entire way.

As soon as he’s close enough, he kneels down and begins scrubbing furiously at Changkyun’s lax neck until all five wipes are dirtied with the slick remnants of the pseudo-perfume. He gingerly takes a meager breath through his nose, releasing a deep breath he wasn’t even aware of holding when he isn’t immediately assaulted face first by the acrid scent of cinnamon. Admittedly, it’s still too strong for him to breathe openly, but it’s a far cry from the disaster that had filled the air just minutes ago.

Changkyun looks up, taking his own careful sniff as his ears twitch in response to the quick change in the air. Sehun meets his gaze, plain relief pooling in his eyes as he holds out a handful of crumpled wipes. “Sorry, I guess you won’t be taking home the entire club after all - you’ll just have to make do with only two-thirds of it instead.”

The younger wolf coughs out a choked laugh, rejoicing too much in being able to actually breathe clearly again to spare any thoughts to how bad the other hybrid’s joke was. Sehun rolls his eyes, a laugh bubbling up through his own throat as Changkyun throws his head back in a full on chortle, face relaxed pleasantly as he lets every snort and giggle pass freely out of his mouth. The older boy’s cheeks ache as he fights to keep his amusement contained, and he turns to squeeze some gel into his palms instead.

“Hold still,” he grits out from between clenched teeth, yanking the other’s bouncing head still between sticky palms. When Changkyun eventually quiets down and calms, he starts to style the younger’s bangs into high arches, curving them gracefully around his sloping forehead in a lifting middle part. It’s a little hastily done, but by no means rushed, and when Sehun is finished he thinks it’s not bad at all, never mind the fact that Changkyun’s hair will probably be as stiff as a marble statue’s for rest of the night.

“Let’s go,” he grunts, rising to his feet, tail swishing back and forth in agitated excitement as he yanks the younger boy up with a hard tug to the collar of his black jacket. The other wolf mumbles something indistinct disgruntledly under his breath, but otherwise he lopes after Sehun towards their dorm door.

As they toe on their respective clubbing shoes, Sehun sliding on a pair of shiny oxfords and Changkyun lacing up his scuffed creepers, the older hybrid leans over conspiratorially, whispering with feigned secrecy, “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely teach you how to twerk tonight.”

Changkyun chokes and he stands up with a hard shove to the other’s lanky back. Sehun grins, canines glinting like curved eggshells under the light, hooking an arm around the younger’s neck and hauling the both of them out the door with an already drunken stumble.

Without a doubt, it’s going to be quite the night.

---------

“Why are we skipping the entire line?” Jooheon whispers, worriedly glancing at the stretching line of mottled people, head after head turning back to look at him and Minhyuk with a mix of incredulousness and blatant anger.

“Because,” Minhyuk grins, the round apples of his cheeks red from the spring chill. “There’s a bit of a favor that I’ve been meaning to use here.” When Jooheon’s eyebrows flatten disapprovingly, bottom lip automatically drooping out in a pout, the cat hybrid’s grin only grows fondly, and he turns around to yank the younger forward by the hand, pulling him along to his own quick, stumbling pace.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Jooheon murmurs, voice low as he reluctantly follows, ducking his gaze downward and tightening his grip around Minhyuk’s. The long line of judging eyes bore into the back of his neck, making the thin hairs dusting along it rise up in an innate survival instinct. He shivers, shrinking back against the collar of the jacket Minhyuk forced him to wear, the irrational disappearing the moment his exposed skin is shielded from any piercing gazes - or from any predators, his tiny hindbrain whispers as he makes a moment of chilling eye contact with a pair of dark heavy eyes in the waiting crowd. Jooheon almost immediately trips on the spot, floundering as he’s instantly tugged forward, Minhyuk’s grasp forming an unbreakable rope stretching between their bodies and yanking him out of his frozen panic into a leather clad shoulder.

He pulls his face away, scrunching his nose slightly from the brief moment of hard impact, only to see the stiff face of an unamused bouncer and the entire line of waiting guests completely behind them. The girl at the front turns to them, round ears flicking lightly as her eyes widen just an inch in surprise at the sudden appearance of two random newcomers in front of her.

“Wha-” Minhyuk cuts her off with a blinding smile, temporarily charming enough to cart past her, pulling along an apologetically bowing Jooheon to his side. Suddenly, the situation is way too real because the stony faced bouncer is right in front of them with his sharply angled eyebrows and chiseled cheekbones, arms crossed in a thick barrier across the tight black shirt bound over his muscled chest. Jooheon automatically shrinks back, every ounce of him relieved for Minhyuk’s steadfast presence providing an unflinching shield between him and the bouncer. If it wasn’t for the older hybrid, he would have literally turned tail and run back to the nearest subway station without a moment's hesitation.

Actually, he wouldn’t have done any of this - squeezing into the tightest clothes humanly possible, going to a club and cutting the entire line there, making eye contact with random strangers - without Minhyuk’s sharp-tongued persuasion, and he doesn’t know whether he’s thankful for it or extremely regretful. Probably the latter he decides as he ducks behind the older man’s shoulder to avoid the bouncer’s blank stare.

“Xiao Xiang! How’re you doing?” Minhyuk asks brightly, shoulders squared as he stands ramrod straight in front of the glaring man, not in the least bit intimidated.

When he doesn’t receive any form of response, not even a slight tilt of the other’s head Minhyuk only strides closer, tipping up the edge of his chin without any intention of backing down. “Remember your beautiful $20,000 wedding? And how I helped save $500 of that $20,000 by agreeing to help out with your husband’s and his bridesmaids’ makeup for the day without any charge?” His phone buzzes in the skin-tight confines of his back pocket, and he pulls it out with a sly grin, unlocking it with a few quick taps of his fingers before displaying the contents of the message to the unmoving man in front of him with an air of proud satisfaction.

“Sangmin says hi,” he reads off the screen slowly as if the bouncer’s eyes weren’t already glued to the message and scanning over every word with rapid fire speed. Minhyuk then clicks on the attached file, zooming in on a blurry selca of Sangmin staring into the camera with big eyes, bangs streaked messily across his forehead as he tugs slightly on his bottom lip with the edge of his teeth. Despite all appearances, the bouncer’s proud bear ears are already drooping, a deep rumble rolling through his chest just as the sight of his mate. Minhyuk watches the hard diamond of his black eyes melt into mushy chocolate, and he knows he’s already won.

“Sangmin also says you should let us into the club first,” Minhyuk comments, casually closing his phone and tucking it into his back pocket as he yanks a bewildered Jooheon forward who lets out an audible squeak once he’s placed directly in front of the slightly disoriented bouncer.

Xiao Xiang looks down at the cowering rabbit, who’s being held tightly in place by the defiant cat, jaw set in an obvious challenge as his eyes blaze with a dark fire, just daring Xiao Xiang to refuse him. Fuck it, the bouncer decides. He technically got to see his mate before the night has even started and that leaves him sated and comfortable, a low warmth settling into a comfortable buzz inside of him. Besides, he wouldn’t put it past Minhyuk to try and get back at him somehow if he turned him and his friend away tonight. He grudgingly steps aside, his mate’s pleading eyes flashing through his mind.

“Thanks,” Minhyuk chirps, the sly satisfaction on his face demonstrating the very epitome of the cat who got the cream. He drags an incredulous Jooheon in with him, making sure to call over the back of his shoulder, “I’ll make sure Sangmin knows about this.” He finishes with a playful wink and turns away to the coat check with a spring in his step.

Xiao Xiang frowns, unable to erase the horrible image of Minhyuk winking at him from his retinas. He sighs, sentencing himself to his fate for the rest of the night, holding out a hand for the next guest’s ID. He really hates his job sometimes.

---------

“Here, I’ll take your coat - well mine technically - over to the coat check,” Minhyuk murmurs, letting go of Jooheon’s hand to turn around and silently motion for him to hand his jacket over.

The rabbit hybrid hesitates, pulling the lapels close around himself for a moment before stripping it off with slow reluctance. He gives Minhyuk the flimsy, glittering piece of clothing with a deep ache in his body, already tired before the night has even truly begun. Without the thin layer of fabric between him and the club, in his already exposed state, Jooheon can feel every brush of hot air against his body from a passing club goer, and it makes him curl in on himself, crossing his arms loosely around his tightly clad middle.

Just as he’s starting to seriously consider hiding out in the bathroom for the rest of the night, Minhyuk comes bounding back, also divested of his own jacket. The ties of the red silk choker around his neck float free behind him like the ribbons on a bonnet on a windy day, and the loose collar of his shirt has slipped down even further to reveal the smooth curve of his collarbones and just a hint of his bare chest. Jooheon feels like he should cover his eyes as Minhyuk crashes into him, pressing heated skin to the barely there fabric of his shirt sleeve and linking their arms together by the crooks of their elbows. He does it without an ounce of hesitation, guided by a familiar instinct to keep Jooheon close by his side, no concept of personal boundaries ever crossing through his mind.

The younger hybrid remembers it well from childhood, to his teens, and to now, of how much Minhyuk loved (and still loves) any form of physical affection. Really, he loved giving it, and he would always be touching Jooheon somewhere, pressing their shoulders together, absentmindedly stroking his fingers through the rabbit hybrid’s twitching ears - it never really mattered to him what he was doing as long as he could feel the warmth of the other boy’s body somewhere along his own.

To be honest, Jooheon’s gotten just as bad. He’s so used to Minhyuk’s unfiltered brand affection he finds himself feeling just a tad off whenever he’s gone too long without a casual peck on the cheek or a full-bodied hug. Even now, in such an unfamiliar environment, he can already feel his fluttering heart begin to calm with Minhyuk’s reassuring cherry blossom and whiskey obscuring his senses and his clenched but steady grip holding him grounded to this new, dizzying setting.

The other hybrid pulls him through the crowd in a winding path, dancing around flailing bodies with graceful steps, almost as if he already knows where to go. Some innate cat sense, Jooheon supposes blithely, barely avoiding being backed into by another clubgoer. He’s never been here before, and he swears neither has Minhyuk, and yet the cat hybrid has somehow managed to cross a perfect path to the bar without even taking one errant step in the wrong direction.

The bar is barely visible from over the massive crowd gathered around it, everyone jumping for a chance to start off the night with a heavy drink. Minhyuk pulls the both of them in, melding into the shifting mass with the smoothness of someone's shadow as they wait for the makeshift line to shorten. Jooheon isn’t much of a heavy drinker, really not much of a drinker at all as he would prefer a cold can of peach soda to a skinny glass of cocktail any day, but the simple tilt of the cat hybrid’s pink smile is enough for him to agree to a light beer. Besides, if he didn’t stay with Minhyuk there would be a very strong chance of him getting lost and smothered among the heat of bodies on the flashing dancefloor.

The boom of the bass drops with an electric shudder, immediately transitioning into the distinct beats of the current hit track, “you’re so beautiful” ringing out in the clear pitch of the singer’s stable voice as whoops of approval spread throughout the club. The music rises, accelerating at a rapid speed as the addicting instrumental overtakes the stuttering breakdown of “too beautiful to handle” before another stomach dropping changeover switches the song to a different loud electro-pop remix, the pulsing cadence of Beautiful still mixed rhythmically under the current beat. Even standing in line, Jooheon’s ears automatically begin twitching to the quick-paced cadence.

The track ends with a high-powered diffusion of noise, the final note falling with a shuddering roar as the DJ jams his fist victoriously into the strobing violet air. “Thank you everyone!” he yells, “This has been DJ H.One on the track for your first hit of the night. Let’s hope you won’t be Alone like Sistar for the rest of it!” High-pitched screams rise in a collective wave as the beginnings of the classic song filters through the club’s audio system.

Jooheon presses close to Minhyuk, who’s happily rolling his body along to the sensual beat, no regards to the other people around him. The rabbit hybrid loves dancing along to this song as much as anyone else, but preferably in the comfort of his stained carrot pajamas without any stranger’s eyes on his less-than-sexy dance moves. He can’t stop himself from slightly moving along though, the rhythm resonating so intimately with his inner post-breakup schoolgirl that even in the stiffly binding leather, his hips still manage to find some leeway to sway back and forth in a pale imitation to the iconic dance.

He slowly begins to enjoy himself despite the dragging process of the line and the general suffocating pressure from the collective presence of sweating bodies around him. He’s really loosening up, letting his muscles relax with the sultry crooning of Hyolyn’s high notes, laxly moving his body along in small waves as all thoughts of shame and embarrassment melt away under the flashing colored lights.

That is until something decidedly hard and warm and not accidental at all firmly brushes up against his tail. Jooheon literally jumps off the ground for a good second, a terribly high-pitched sound peaking at the top of his throat. He jerks around on the spot, all dance moves forgotten as he quickly wraps his hand gingerly around his errantly twitching tail.

The assailant in question grins, sharp and dangerous, down at him, his unfamiliar eyes glinting with unreadable intentions. From his growing scent, stinking up the air with the musk of a wild swamp after a night’s heavy rain, Jooheon is already stepping back, tensely angling his body away with as much calm as his pounding heart can muster.

Alpha flashes through his panicking hindbrain in bold, blazing red, and he clenches his teeth together to muffle the pathetic whimper trying to escape from his frozen vocal chords. It’s been too long since he’s encountered an alpha, unknown passersby on the street notwithstanding, because he spends most of his workdays with only omegas and soft, scentless children. The fact that he’s with Minhyuk on most, if not all, of his free days doesn’t help the matter either as the cat hybrid, surprisingly, also presented as the same orientation during their teenage years together.

Which is why he keeps backing away, mind clouding with a fog of incomplete thoughts as the urgent alarm of run! and danger! squashes any possibility of him forming any coherent sentences in his rapidly degenerating human brain. The unknown alpha presses closer, a solid black shape blocking out any hint of the neon lights in the club, and Jooheon unwittingly feels the low weight of his ears flattening themselves firmly to the top of his head.

Any moment now, he thinks gritting his teeth in grim preparation, some indistinct muscle in his thigh will twitch and he’ll be bolting out of there, as fast as a track runner sprinting off the starting blocks once the gunshot pierces through the air. Except this time, losing the race could have much deadlier consequences than letting down your fellow high school teammates. Something definitely much worse than that, Jooheon shivers tensely as the cold, glinting gaze of the alpha roves over his body.

He’s about to take off early because fuck it why wait around for imminent death, when another harsh grip suddenly comes down around the roundest, fleshiest part of his backside. This time he can’t control the loud squeak that tumbles out of slack lips, immediately jerking in place as he tries to identify his second assailant.

When he glances to the side of where the offending grip is coming from, he’s so surprised his eyes almost pop out of their sockets, he’s staring so hard, pupils widening hastily in that single millisecond of jaw-dropping silence.

His already hazy brain can’t take in such a quick shock to his numbed body, so he stands, melded to the spot as Minhyuk hisses up at the alpha, iron fingers digging into the soft flesh of Jooheon’s ass. “Back off,” he growls out, voice so low it’s almost a whisper, but the alpha definitely hears him without mistake because he halts with an almost audible squeal of his shoes against the floor. Minhyuk hisses again, lips curled back around his sharp canines in a feral snarl, the veins in his neck imprinted under a tight sheen of violet and blue painted over his exposed skin.

The aggressive stranger finally takes the hint and backs away, retracing his heavy steps as he melts back into the moving shadows of the dancing crowd. Minhyuk droops, mouth relaxing back into its usual flat position, and releases a drawling breath of relief as-

-Jooheon suddenly slaps his already loosening hand away from his ass with an uncharacteristic amount of force. Minhyuk can only watch, mouth gaping open, as the rabbit hybrid stumbles away, distancing his backside as much as possible, preferring to turn it to the open crowd than have it be near the other hybrid’s invasive touch again. Minhyuk automatically reaches after him, hand stretching through the dense air after Jooheon’s shadowed silhouette.

He’s only pushed away again, his touch batted down with the same desperate force, however with considerably less intensity as the younger hybrid ducks his burning face to the floor. Blotchy red is mixing with the neon blue of the club to make a dark maroon splotch of humiliation splatter over Jooheon’s cheeks that Minhyuk can still easily make out even as the younger man tries to hide his face in the flickering shadows of passing strangers.

“Why are you so mad?” he questions urgently as he hunches over to try and look the fuming rabbit in the eye.

Jooheon finally looks up with a glare, glistening and wet, threatening to spill over at any moment. The scare of the brooding alpha is still rushing with nervous adrenaline through his veins, and on top of that, Minhyuk’s infuriating actions only make it pulse that much faster. “You - you didn’t have to do that,” he grits out, struggling to flatten out the rough tremors in his voice.

“And what,” Minhyuk states flatly, brows furrowing, “let you bolt out into the dark where he could corner you against the wall, where no one else would be able to see you?” His voice rises, raw fear bleeding into the quick anger of his biting words. Maybe what he did was a little extreme, but that alpha was not going to back off until he staked a visible claim, even if it was a fake one. “It was for your own good,” he finishes, mouth pressed into a line of decisive silence.

“No,” Jooheon retorts immediately, rubbing his palm roughly along a flushed, twitching eyelid, pressing down until he sees dotted stars as he tries to stop his body’s jerky twitching. “Don’t you understand? I was already so scared, doing that only made it worse…” he sniffs, covering both of his welling eyes with shaking hands.

“I don’t want to be touched like that,” he adds, a soft broken murmur drifting out into the ignorant clamor of the club.

Minhyuk heart breaks, but the line is steadily moving up without them, so he tries settling his hand on Jooheon’s hunched shoulder, gifting him with a familiar touch. “Let’s go, the line’s already moving, we have to stop holding it up,” he mutters, hushed and tense.

Jooheon jerks away, as if he’s been burned by the other’s touch, eyes flashing in a blazing arc of vulnerable anger. He stumbles back, and back, and back, until he’s left an empty hole beside Minhyuk. “You can stay in your precious line then,” he bites out, before careening away on jittery legs, letting the thriving crowd swallow up any traces of blonde curls and white ears.

Minhyuk watches Jooheon disappear, choking on his own tender heart, but he doesn’t chase after him. For once, he lets him go alone.

---------

“Sorry,” Jooheon mutters, blundering past solid bodies that only seem to move more into his direct path the harder he tries to avoid them. He doesn’t take a moment to pause though, not when his heart is still pounding from the bleeding panic of the black-eyed alpha, from the feral glint of Minhyuk’s needle-point fangs.

He can’t think, can’t see clearly, not with the mosaic of images piecing themselves together in the high-strung web of nerves in his brain. Each colored block takes a turn plastering itself over his flickering irises, pulling him over and over into a torturous trance as he relives each and every scarring detail from the rapid-fire exchange from just a few minutes ago.

He bumps into each and every writhing mass on his unknown route through the club without Minhyuk’s instinctual grace to guide his stumbling pace. He grimaces, swiping the heel of his hand over a ruddy cheek, surely smearing the painstaking effort that was put into lining the slim edge of his burning waterline.

Minhyuk’s painstaking effort of course.

He internally chokes on the name, eyes watering with the most acidic intensity as his jittery hindbrain, on reflex, pulls up gentle images of Minhyuk smoothing color lovingly over his cheeks with the soft pads of his fingers, of his pink tongue poking out just barely as he had directed wide bright eyes over the plain palette of Jooheon’s face, and after all that, how he had, naturally, finished with a habitual peck to the younger’s exposed forehead, free of its usual entrapment of tangled curls.

Not now, he repeats in a mantra, over and over in his head as a telltale lump wedges itself into the inside of his throat. Crying is never a particularly good boost to his already wilted pride, but there’s something especially unredeemable about doing it in a club, in the view of adults who are doing adult things as he whimpers away in the corner, like one of the three year olds in his daycare. Something wet bubbles up, tickling surreptitiously against his lower lashes, and he quickly tips his chin towards the inscrutable ceiling, opening his eyes wide enough that he can feel the rush of hot muggy air flowing past his sockets and temporarily drying up the welling liquid there.

He drops his head back down, lolling it this way and that as he stands frozen trying to peer through his unfamiliar surroundings. It’s a complete wall of heated flesh around him, a mottled splattering of hybrids of every species writhing and grinding up on one another in a shared attitude of careless abandon. Jooheon squirms in place, watching anxiously as his invisible ring of no-touching, personal space is progressively encroached on by wayward feet, elbows, and unfortunately, butts.

As the chances of him magically finding the door in the three seconds it will take before a bobbing tail can come into contact with his arm are practically zero to none, he prays to whatever god that’s out there to open up the ground and swallow him whole right here. He’s never really considered the possibility of hell, but now the option of falling into Satan’s raging inferno is a much preferred alternative to the disgusting, musky heat of the club slowly seeping through his goosebumped pores.

Sadly, Satan doesn’t instantly drag him down onto a steaming pile of skeletons at his desperate plea, but what does happen is that in his distressed searching he happens to spot a path, completely unobstructed by any bodies, to a wall occupied by a few chatting bystanders, but otherwise devoid of any sweaty, grinding persons. If he can’t leave through the front door or his own convenient portal to hell, a dark filthy corner in the wall of the club will suffice.

He sidesteps the stranger’s bobbing tail by a literal hair's breadth and bolts for the open path, the edge of it already beginning to blur with the formless shadows of mindlessly dancing clubgoers who have no idea that their indecent flailing is cutting off his only road to safety. For once, his animal genes come into play and he finds himself weaving through the crowd with a light step, tilting forward on the balls of his feet with speed he hasn’t used since racing down the dusty red track around his high school's turf field.

It’s more of a workout than he needs at the moment, but he makes it the wall just as the writhing black mass closes up around his one clear trail with the finality of a flood. There’s a possibility he’ll have to fight his way through those waters when he leaves this blasted place, but he maintains the mindset that he’ll deal with the panic only when it comes inevitably later tonight.

For now, he feels his way along the wall, fingertips sliding over months of congealed dust and grime as he waits to hit a dead corner. Finally, he slips into a sharp indent, pressing his shoulder into the hard stone of a protruding wall, perpendicular to the one currently pressed against his back, and he knows he’s managed to successfully back himself into the corner.

Perfect, Jooheon sighs, letting himself slump into the skinny space, all according to plan. Now, just to wait out the rest of the night here, hopefully unnoticed, until-

Until Minhyuk comes to get me, his brain follows through without a second’s pause, even as everything within Jooheon comes to a screeching halt before the thought can finish completing itself. His heart aches, and it’s only now that he realizes how truly alone he is.

In a club with people everywhere, the affection in the air so heavy it’s practically oozing, he’s without anyone even remotely near his side. There’s no never-ending buzzing from his back pocket, no shoulder nudging against his side, and no suffocating arms winding fast and spontaneous around his unguarded throat. Screw it, he blurts out into the stubborn space of his own mind, why go looking for some alpha when all he wants is for Minhyuk to hold him in his demanding, desperate way again.

Alphas suck anyway, he sniffs quietly as he recollects all the knobby-kneed, braces-bound teenagers that had taunted him for the soft curve of his barely developed, adolescent’s waist and the uncharacteristic sweetness of his scent in the torturous, age-old locker room. His childhood opinion had only gone stale after being immersed in the extremely omega-friendly environment of his workplace, with Hyungwoo being the one exception to his bland distaste of alphas.

Today’s experience has only brought the terrible prejudices of his youth back in full force, and so, huddled tensely in a shady corner of the club, he has no problem promising himself he’ll never willingly seek out anything to do with alphas ever again - not even for the risk of heats. He’s still alive and functioning relatively well without ever having been with one for the last twenty-four years, so he doesn’t know why he can’t just continue on for the rest of his life with toys...and Minhyuk.

Minhyuk, god, he misses him so much. If Jooheon hadn’t rushed away like a hot-headed idiot, they’d be dancing together without a care in the world by now, and he would be cushioned in the sharp, comforting familiarity of Minhyuk’s cherry blossoms with a mild shot of whiskey.

Now, he tries to recall the complex, beautiful nuances of that scent, but all he inhales are dust mites and the flat musk of his own sweat. Despite the layers of ancient cigarette ash and ticket stubs cemented into the ground, his pathetic self-pity is whispering very persuasively into his inner ear about how good of idea it would be if he slid to the floor, leaned his head onto his knees, and spent the rest of the night sighing his heart out into the curved space of his constricted chest. Jooheon admits, it’s the best idea he’s had all week.

He’s about to readily follow that tiny voice, knees slowly buckling in their leather confines as he voluntarily lowers his gaze to the ground, when the sense of lazy pity is suddenly replaced by every hair on his body and head standing straight and electrified by a blue lightning strike of fear. He raises his head with aching difficulty as if weighed down by a clanking bowling ball, each joint in his neck creaking at the forced movement, and he freezes halfway when his gaze meets the looming presence stopped in front of him.

It’s the same alpha from before, his bowling ball brain supplies with a devastating knockout of all ten metaphorical pins. Jooheon recognizes him with immediate horror, recognizes those black eyes and terrible white fangs glinting through the dark haze in a wide smile meant just for him. His thoughts begin to fall into plasters again, buildings razed into thin pieces that fly without abandon out of one ear and disappear upon contact with the hellfire of the club’s burning atmosphere. Out of the raining dust and cement bits flickering behind the sheen of his lids, he’s barely able to pick out one short, complete thought.

Wolf, the rabbit in him cries, and the man’s furry ears perk minutely as if they somehow picked up on his internal panic. They’re sharp, a blunt triangle shape, almost dog-like, but undeniably belonging to its wild brother from the woods instead - the mark of a predator. His pale crescent moon grin grows, and Jooheon bolts, cutting through the sliver of space between the man’s right side and the wall, hoping to make a break for it.

Hope isn’t strong enough because an iron chain fastens around his wrist, slamming him back against an equally hard wall of flesh with breathless intensity. Literally, he’s gasping for air as a rough hand wrenches his arm backwards, forcing him to relax against the rising chest behind him if he doesn’t want anything potentially damaged or broken. Another hand slithers around his middle, tucking its fingers with the intent of bruising into the supple curve of his waist.

Something hard and undeniably warm grinds past the twitching fluff of his puffy tail and into the thong-like seam of Minhyuk’s borrowed pants. He squeaks upon the intrusive contact, thrashing in the other’s hold as he tries to separate his lower half from the alpha’s front, clawing at the veined arm around his waist without a hint of fighter’s grace, but definitely with all the ferocity he can muster from his soft body. It’s raw animal panic, and with every red line that cuts into the stranger’s skin, the more Jooheon realizes his wild flailing is doing absolutely nothing.

“Where did you think you were going, pretty bunny?” A wet swamp breath blows across his fear-flushed cheeks and Jooheon only holds his breath in silent defiance. Suddenly, he cries out in pain, almost a scream, as his captive wrist is forced beyond its usual capacity for movement, bent to the very limits of the joint’s elasticity. He goes limp from the vivid stream of pain coursing from his arm through the rest of his body, shuddering as the alpha presses up to him in a skin-tingling line from chest to thigh.

Hysterically, he realizes in his messy hindbrain, from any random passerby’s perspective, it’d look like two people willingly grinding up against each other for a dirty night of heated passion. His panic kicks into overdrive, struggle beginning anew as the true severity of the situation he’s gotten himself into dawns upon him with a bleeding orange sun of absolute horror.

The alpha only chuckles, dark and disgusting, into the pink fold of his ear, cutting off his resistance with one hard dig of his thumb into the racing pulse point of Jooheon’s bent wrist.

Christ that hurts, the rabbit hybrid shudders, clenching his eyes closed and tensing up every fiber of his muscles at the new wave of pain. He just needs some help from someone, from anyone - he doesn’t care whether it’s an alpha or not, please, anything would work, just, someone find him before he’s irreversibly swallowed up and forgotten in a dusty, barely-lit, shadowy club corner.

---------

“Fuck,” Changkyun swears lowly under his breath as Sehun climbs onto a nearby table and pulls his shirt up with inebriated confidence to flash the screaming crowd of women and men already gathering around him. There goes his chance of having someone to spend the rest of the night with, drunk and stripping on top of a stained club table.

He sighs, turning away from Sehun’s pasty abs and slouching with a disappointed but expectant shuffle to his lazy step. Unless he joins the currently half-naked wolf hybrid on top of the chipped table or starts grinding up against complete strangers, of which he’ll definitely do neither, what he had predicted pessimistically will completely follow through without fault for the rest of the night.

First, he’ll wander through the club without aim nor direction, bump into some people, apologize, maybe take a gross shot or two, smash into some more random clubgoers, be too drunk and rude to apologize by that point, get whisked home by one of the invariable friends Sehun will somehow end up making by the end of the night, and finally collapse face first into his unmade bed with the epic beginnings of B.A.P’s Noir album on perpetual shuffle. He runs through the tentative schedule through his head once more, angling his body into the narrowing gaps of the crowd, and decides that, yep, everything sounds about right.

Might as well get the night started now, he decides with the form of someone who’s already resigned himself to the inevitability of his gloomy mindset. He edges into the mishmash of indistinguishable bodies, dragging the soles of his creepers past intruding feet without any real idea of where he’s currently heading to. For a moment he stills, pulling languidly at some loose fur on his ears as he tries to remember the exact reason for why he was at least vaguely willing to come here, when standing here, alone, like a complete loser, he has no clue as to what he actually wants to do.

His ear twitches, ticklish and sensitive from the overheated environment, and Changkyun decides, hazily, that again, he really has no idea. The wall to the close left of the room, though, is appealingly bare of any frenzied grinding, and it seems to be the perfect place for him to contemplate the welling self-pity in his heavy heart and also how much money he could potentially burn on B.A.P’s next comeback album. (Spoilers: it’s a lot).

He pulls on his flattest, don’t-talk-to-me expression that Sehun calls his “old-man bitch face” (he’s only jealous) as he begins pushing his way to the beckoning wall with the barest semblance of courtesy. These people could stop attempting to twerk for one second, he thinks huffily as a pointed tail flops without shame into his path, slapping audibly against his leg.

Changkyun dusts the back of his hand over the numbing spot, breaking his passive mask with a curl of his lip in vague disgust. He’s not really a germaphobe or anything; anyone could see that from the current state of his room, but he has half a mind to immediately incinerate these pants the moment he can get his hands on some alcohol and a burner in the chemistry room. Trust him, it won’t be hard at all.

He jots a mental reminder in the back of his mind as the throng of swaying clubgoers finally clears up enough for just the moment he needs to cross to the sliver of empty space between the nebulous edge of the crowd and the wall. Changkyun hikes to his feet and strides into the parted sea, eyes set only on the flat, shining wall glimmering and beckoning before him. He reaches it with an echoing thump of his foot on the ground, internally cheering for his one small victory of the night: finally, he’s alone.

Well close, at least, he corrects himself grudgingly because off to the side is a couple grinding awkwardly up against each other in the same empty space Changkyun has currently taken up residence in for the night. If the twerking from before had seemed awfully cringy, the scene in front of him is infinitely worse. It’s so bad he can’t even qualify the broken movements as anything close to the relative definition of dancing, and that’s coming from someone who may or may not have dislocated his hip attending his first and very last free dance class with an eager Sehun. (He’s never going to attempt a body roll that hard ever again).

The twin bodies suddenly jolt, breaking from its unified black mass into two twisting lines in an almost violent manner. Changkyun is horrified, but strangely drawn to the frantic wriggling that’s taking place, completely lacking in any attempts at rhythm nor romanticism. Really, what’s going on, he wonders, magnetized as his legs unwillingly pull him closer through the shadowy haze for a closer, curious look.

He’s five steps away, still leaned unassumingly against the wall, when the taller man appears to yank his partner back, melding them back to front again with such intense force the smaller one quickly loses his footing and slips in place. He shuffles fruitlessly, trying to regain his lost balance with a dragging scratch of his heels over the ground. It’s strange, because, Changkyun narrows his eyes, peering through the neon purple strobes - it almost looks as if he’s trying to get away.

The other hybrid holds him captive, crushing him into the hunched cage of his thick upper body, until all Changkyun can see of the smaller man are the swaying white tips of what he assumes to be his ears. In a surprising show of agility, the white-eared hybrid lunges forward, tight legs kicking out with a volatile snap as he finally shifts just a fraction out of his partner’s shadow and into Changkyun’s blurred view.

He whips around frantically, as if he was trapped, lashing a pale arm out past the heavy blackness of the body behind him. Something happens out of Changkyun’s range of sight, and he hears an audible intake of breath, piercing dry and sharp through the catchy electropop as the smaller hybrid throws his head back, letting it fall against the other man’s shoulder with a loud thump.

Changkyun turns his head, looking over on an unspoken impulse, and their eyes meet with an electric jolt of lightning, magnetized in a moment of indescribable recognition. Jooheon freezes in his sudden struggle and Changkyun does as well, taking a moment to catch his own breath at the soul-deep sensation.

Bunny, is the first barely coherent thought his muddled mind conjures up on the spot, the rest of the sentence lost to the glassy pools of the other’s fixed gaze. The second full thought that follows is a loud exclamation of oh shit, because the other hybrid is obviously in need of some help.

Even in the flickering neon shadows of the club, the wet desperation glinting in slim eyes is only accentuated by the flashy lighting, highlighted into two bright streaks that pull Changkyun in with the most magnetic urgency. He follows their distinct call, hazily tracing his feet over some unknown path on complete mindless instinct.

It’s like he’s watching someone else operate his body because it’s practically unbelievable when he somehow places firm, unshaking palms on the tensed bodies of the two hybrids and rips them apart with a forceful locking of his elbows, to the speechless surprise of all three people present, himself included. He’s not sure if the steady thrum of noise pounding through his head is the never-ending bass of the club or his own internal panic taking form in high-pitched screaming and incoherent babbling.

It’s the club’s music, he tells himself as the cottony static begins dying down to the slow steadying drawl of his breaths. He still feels like he must be dreaming because there’s no way, he, Im Changkyun, avid B.A.P fanboy and unassuming biochemistry major who’s worked out for a total 0.1% of his life, somehow managed to go up against some guy twice as wide as him and come out of it completely unscathed. Sure, he might’ve had the element of surprise, and the guy’s back was kind of turned to him, but this is coming from someone who seriously thought he had osteoporosis the minute his back started hurting from staying hunched up in bed for more than two days. Given the circumstances, Changkyun counts it as his second firm victory of the night.

It becomes less surreal and extremely real when he realizes he’s somehow latched his hand around the rabbit hybrid’s slim wrist and has pulled him to rest slightly behind his left side, enough so that the hulking creep glaring down at them would have to push past Changkyun first in order to get to the softly shaking bunny. He’s slightly taller than me, the younger boy observes thoughtlessly as a warm breath wavers past the top of his cheek. He tightens his grip, an unspoken message of reassurance, and subtly angles his body even more between the looming alpha and the trembling rabbit behind him.

“Leave him alone,” he grits out as the stranger steps forward, insides jumping at the strange timber of his own voice. He gently pushes his palm back against the other man’s stiffened wrist, motioning slightly for the both of them to begin backing away.

“He’s mine,” the man growls, eyes flashing, and Changkyun is hit with the stink of a swamp on a hot summer’s day, rotting with dead fish and sewage. Even a sweaty, post-dance class Sehun smells ten times better than the muck currently forcing its way through his nose and coating his tongue with the taste of vomit. He considers covering his face with his jacket sleeve, but a light tug to the hem of his shirt and a practically indiscernible whimper stops him in his impudent actions, waking the wolf in his hindbrain with a loud, possessive rumble instead.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Changkyun bites out, rigid and short, each word twitching jerkily against his clenched jaw.

“And you would know?” The other man’s eyes flash a sick yellow, and he steps imperceptibly close, close enough Changkyun is too surprised to push the terrified rabbit behind him away and out of reach. He stills, so frozen in silence even the minute palpitations of his breath turn to ice. Up close, lit by violent strobes, he realizes he’s up against another wolf - it’s an issue of a plain challenge for dominance. The stranger’s grey ears are pressed back, flat against his head, and Changkyun mirrors the same expression with his own identical black pair. He bares his canines, snarling only with the haze of red-blooded victory in mind.

“More than you ever would,” he utters, each syllable ripping so gutturally through his throat he can feel the echoes of the vibrations of the words in the pit of his stomach. He pulls the rabbit hybrid close, pressing their linked arms together in a searing line of bare flesh against heated leather. A honey-sweet scent slyly wafts up from behind him, so inexorably familiar, Changkyun almost immediately drops to his knees from the way it strikes him so pleasurably in the gut.

He forces away the heat creeping into his mind with a deep shuddering exhale, holding his breath quietly as he turns back to the task at hand. Namely, the alpha in front of him, paused in his advances with his head tilted to the side like an innocent young pup, something unnamable wavering in his dark gaze. Changkyun growls, low in the back of his throat, the action making his stomach twist with a strange sensation.

“Back off,” he bites out, the scent of lavender rapidly bleeding and mixing viscously with honey already floating through the air. Changkyun almost chokes on his spit, and this time, he can’t stop his knees from wobbling just the slightest bit.

Somehow, between his dead glare and the weakening of his legs, the other alpha appraises his false claim and somehow deems it convincing enough to let them go, melting back into the crowded shadows of the club with the deadly silence of a snake.

Changkyun turns slowly, hesitating as some sort of jittery wave of anticipation begins building up within his body, overtaking his body with a sea of nerves. When he’s finally fully facing the other hybrid, their eyes meet in a flash of understanding, the same idea clicking alight between them with the volatile flick of a lighter in the midst of a cloud of methane.

Before a single second has ticked by, their hands come to fumble together, fingers slipping and pressing with frantic urgency into the waiting space between each other’s curved knuckles, hands interlacing with a slightly sweaty, heated kiss of palms.

It’s not apparent who sets the first foot forward, but all of a sudden, they’re jilting into action, moving unsteadily with one will as if cooperating in a perfectly timed three legged race towards some vague finish line neither of them have any knowledge of at the moment.

At some point, they’re both outright running, sprinting with reckless abandon through the pulsing dancefloor, all logical regard for manners and appearances thrown away to the fire burning in their shared touch and the same thought sparking alight through the neurons in their brains. It must be animal instinct, some dormant sixth sense that’s come to life now and has somehow led them without a single false turn to a backdoor and out into a deserted alleyway.

The cold night air delivers a sudden shock to their bodies, dousing the liquid heat in their veins with the effectiveness of sticking your head into a bucket of ice. Their hands separate with a harsh rip, every burning feeling of shame and embarrassment returning with the realization of who are you and how are you doing this to me that floods into them from the ashy, cigarette-laden air.

A dull emptiness immediately sets in upon the loss of each other’s touch, an emptiness filling up Changkyun so entirely it makes him want to reach out and touch again without the intention of ever letting go. He chances a glance to the side and loses his breath for the second time that night.

The bunny is actually a full-grown rabbit, mature, with two long white ears sprung proudly upright from atop a head of wavy blonde locks. A few bright strands have fallen loose, the wind stroking them gently across the curve of his bare forehead. The other man tucks them back with a careless backwards combing motion, and Changkyun’s attention is irrationally caught on how small his fingers seem, the tips curved like the delicate petals of a lily in its short-lived prime.

A night draft whistles through their desolate alleyway, and the rabbit hybrid ducks down with an unexpected sneeze, his small squeak promptly grabbing Changkyun’s otherwise distracted attention. Without even a moment’s thought, he strips off his jacket and drapes the warm leather over hunched shoulders, letting the cold air wash over himself instead.

He gets his first direct look at the other’s face in return, and the same weak feeling in his knees returns in all its full, destructive glory. Changkyun discretely leans casually back against the brick wall, propping himself there with folded arms and a cool, detached attitude. Internally, of course, the high pitched screaming has also made a comeback.

The other man’s sleek eyes slope over the full curve of his cheeks with all the sophistication and elegance of a finely painted line of Chinese calligraphy, making him look more like a fox than anything else. However, the minute twitching of his sloped nose and the natural pink of his heart lips give him away as only a bunny (besides the obvious pair of ears), but it seems from the soothed rumbling emanating from deep inside of him, Changkyun’s wolf wouldn’t have it any other way.

It doesn’t make much sense, but on first instinct he wants to say the other hybrid reminds him of the moon: supple and full in sky as it watched over him and his worries with such an unspoken understanding he had pledged to pluck it out of the sky in order to take it with him to school as a pup. Now, his hand twitches in the the confines of his elbow with the same phantom yearning.

The surprise from slim eyes eventually fades into a childish pout, lips perking with the ripe sheen of summer cherries as the other man attempts to pull the leather jacket fully around his body. The piece of clothing attempts to stretch further, pulling past every seam with one-hundred percent effort, but there’s just not enough give. Jooheon gives up and leaves it to flap loosely around his shoulders, tucking the bare edges of his arms into the silky interior to the best of his ability. “It’s a little small,” he admits, hastily meeting the other hybrid’s silent gaze.

Changkyun’s stupid mouth moves too fast for his brain to even process the words coming out of it. “What, no ‘thank you?’” he asks in a tone that is entirely too rude to use with beautiful strangers who remind him of his first rocky, inanimate, outer space love.

Instead of reacting as people, namely Sehun, usually do to his automatic snark, the rabbit hybrid’s cupid lips only form a perfect o before softening into a small, genuine smile, the curves of his mouth still fully accentuated in the sloping dip of his shapely upper lip. “Thank you,” he replies hesitantly, his own embarrassment forcing his face into a nervous grin on reflex.

Changkyun barely registers it in the muted static of his thoughts because all he can focus on at the moment are the two deep welts forming on either side of the other hybrid’s shy smile. Dimples, he repeats brokenly to himself, he has dimples, and they’re deeper than anything he’s ever seen in his meager twenty years of existence on this Earth. Forget the moon’s sea-razed and comet-scarred craters, this guy’s dimples could fit the entire Milky Way into their creamy folds. His fingers twitch wantonly, and Changkyun jams them painfully into his arm before he does something terrible like reach out and poke one.

“I’m - I’m Changkyun, Im Changkyun,” he stutters out brokenly, disconcertedly determined to keep the nonexistent conversation alive - also to keep those pretty imprints in the other’s cheeks from fading back into smooth obscurity.

“Lee Jooheon,” the rabbit hybrid offers quietly, still too absorbed in the slurred timbre of the boy’s deep, cavernous voice to introduce himself with all his attention and manners intact.

“Like honey?” Fuck, there goes his mouth again. Changkyun is entirely too ready to lock himself into a muzzle and dump the key into a landfill without any intention of ever retrieving it the hypothetical day he gets his brain-to-mouth filter under control. He’ll probably look like he’s into some weird stuff, but at least that way he can stop himself from offending a real life cherub.

“Agh,” splotchy heat blooms lightly across Jooheon’s cheeks, “I’m too old for those kinds of jokes anymore.” Minhyuk has made that one too often in regards to his scent, and just the thought of the cat hybrid makes his heart pang sorely with homesickness.

Changkyun notices the minute drooping of the other’s ears, and he automatically opens his mouth to let it run its natural course, praying that something hilarious and vaguely reassuring comes out. “What are you, like eighteen? Actually wait, seventeen?” Well...that works he supposes; at least it’s not outright rude.

Jooheon’s ears perk again, and he looks up, the corners of his slight eyes crinkling in incredulous disbelief. This kid, he thinks, strangely fond and exasperated, attempting to suppress the whisper of a giggle from escaping his mouth. “Twenty-four actually,” he replies, voice a little wobbly from the choking laugh threatening to spill over at the boy’s frozen expression of pure surprise.

Oh wow, Changkyun was only playing, but damn, he was way off. Twenty-two at most had been his guess. “I guess you’re my hyung then because I’m only a twenty year old suffering college student,” he sighs sagging slightly against the rough brick wall.

Jooheon scans his gaze lightly over the other’s lax figure, taking in the slight sallowness of the younger boy’s cheeks, the bruised bags under his eyes, and decides sadly, college hasn’t changed at all since he last graduated only two years ago. Despite all that, the student is still very handsome, from the slim line of his legs stretched out before him in an accidental display, to the sharp angle of his finely drawn jawline.

Jooheon tries to blink away the heat rising behind his eyelids, attempting to skip over that clear-cut fact, throwing it behind a pile of junk cardboard boxes in the deep recesses of his mind. He forces himself to focus on an innocent topic instead, something he’s sure that he and Changkyun have in common, determined to wipe away his embarrassing moment of utter denial. “So, is it still 2Jae’s coffee that gets most of the sleep-deprived college students like you through the day?”

Changkyun perks up, a small voice of suspicious suggestion lilting into his ear and through his mind. It can’t be...because really, what are the chances? He takes a cautious step off the brick wall, mind and body on complete alert now. He decides to test his miniscule doubts, injecting a tone of innocent curiosity into his casual question. “I’ve only started going there last week, but so far it’s done for me than any of Starbuck’s shitty frapuccinos ever could.” He slips his hands into his pockets, only the light forward slouch of his back betraying his intense interest in Jooheon’s answer. “So, do you go there often?”

The rabbit hybrid smiles in nostalgic reminiscence as Youngjae and Jaebum’s muffled bickering starts playing like a vintage record in the back of his mind. “Yeah, I’ve been going there almost everyday for…” he pouts cutely, trying to grasp a number out of the immutable stars glimmering in the night sky, “at least a year and a half now? Seems about right.” He nods minutely, re-confirming the answer with himself.

Ah, Changkyun’s heart aches at the sight in front of him; it’s so adorable. The fact that Jooheon has started mumbling lowly as he tries to count the years on his fingers proves that, yes, it’s indeed the most precious thing Changkyun has ever lain his eyes on. (The picture he has of Jongup wearing a flower crown at a fanmeeting is rightfully excluded from judgement).

He forcefully shakes himself out of the pure fluff-induced daze to analyze and evaluate Jooheon’s answer. No doubt, it does bring him closer to confirming Changkyun’s suspicions, but - it’s just not enough, not if he wants to wipe away every mark of doubt in his mind.

There’s only one option left, and in his current state of mind, with Jooheon open and unsuspecting in front of him, Changkyun feels emboldened enough to blurt it out.

“I know this is sudden,” he begins gingerly, taking a step closer, then another, until Jooheon blinks up in surprise to see Changkyun standing directly in front of him. The younger hybrid holds his hand out in front of him, palms up in plain honesty as if delivering an offering of trust. “But could I scent you?”

The words take a bit of time to sink in, not because Jooheon was preoccupied by the blunt thickness of Changkyun’s long fingers or anything, but as he slowly comes to comprehend them his face erupts into a rash of color, spreading so uncontrollably it feels like a pandemic disease, forcing him to press freezing palms to red cheeks in an attempt to calm the overheating flesh there. At this point, he thinks on the edge of delirium, he might as well just die from a heat stroke before he can ever get out of here alive.

Changkyun fumbles, flustered at the other’s multiple shades of mortification and his own mistake as he realizes the terrible implications of his request. “No, I meant, uh-” he waves his hands in front of him in what he hopes is an innocent and placating manner, “-like, platonically, kind of?” When Jooheon’s face remains steadily covered, he injects a light plea, maybe even a whine, into his voice. “It’ll only be on the wrist, I promise.”

The only response he receives is a bare wrist shoved into his general space, and his wolf rolls onto its haunches, sitting at attention with its ears pointed in sharp anticipation.

Jooheon’s proffered wrist is much like the rest of him, terribly soft and unmarred by any possessive bonds, delicate and innocent before Changkyun’s greedy eyes. He’s almost scared to touch, as if somehow a light tap of finger could immediately scar the translucent flesh in front of him and cause the rabbit hybrid to be whisked away in a sudden, blazing storm of electricity and ions in order to shield him from Changkyun’s abundant, not-at-all-platonic thoughts.

He absentmindedly rubs a thumb over a thin vein just to make sure, regretting his actions the moment Jooheon jumps a little, almost twitching his hand out of Changkyun’s tingling grasp.

The wolf hybrid holds the other’s wrist straight before him as clinical and technical as a piece of laboratory equipment before letting his base instincts take over. His eyes naturally fall closed as he presses his nose to a fragrant, warm pulse, nuzzling into tender skin - and then, he breathes-

It goes black for a second, his mind, his vision, his senses, before he blinks slightly and realizes he’s in the café he stopped by in last week. His body begins moving on its own, legs carrying him to the door with an already ordered cup of coffee, before he promptly stops in place. This time, in the metaphysical universe of his own mind, he looks around, mouth slightly opened because he swears he can literally taste the vivid scent of honey and lavender in the air and against his palate; it could only be a hair’s breadth away.

Dream-him takes a step forward, and someone at the nearest table turns, blonde curls blazing like a halo in the imaginary morning sun. Changkyun’s eyes widen-

-and they snap open, face to face with the blank skin of Jooheon’s tensed wrist, nerves and tendons rising up like hardened pottery molds under an opaque layer of flesh. Changkyun closes his eyes and breathes in deeply again.

He can smell the ever-present lightness of sweet honey and strong lavender, but there’s so much more - the petrichor of the musky rain on fresh, wet earth - the raw clearness of the air on the night of a full moon - the wolf in his blood sings and howls of home. There’s no doubt about it: it’s the same scent that had whispered to him you’re mine, I’m yours, and we were made for each other from the moment of the universe’s conception the day he had made his brisk exit from the café he had visited on a random whim last week.

Changkyun slowly looks up from the wrist below him, an odd heaviness in his mouth. Somehow, he’s lost his breath again for the nth time this night. When he meets Jooheon’s lilting gaze, there’s the same exhilarated, terrified, heart-pounding recognition in those brown, glistening, bottomless pools. He opens his mouth, jaw popping and creaking from the strange weight of his unfathomable desire. He wants to throw himself into those gentle waters and drown himself in their never ending seas.

“Oh-”

“-it’s you.”

---------

Minhyuk slides into the edge of the bar, friendless, and very much in the mood for a strong shot or two. Maybe even three - just enough for him to forget the way Jooheon had flinched away his touch as if he had hurt him more than any stranger ever could.

They’ve been together, through every momentous occasion and even through most nondescript, forgettable ones, for so long Minhyuk wonders, idly pushing at the tiny glass in front of him, sloshing the amber liquid inside it, if he’s lost his sense of reasoning entirely. Being with Jooheon, it makes his heart ache with the uncontrollable urge to protect, and he contemplates the intense feeling as he slowly swishes a gulp of searing whiskey against his heavy tongue.

If only he had been born an alpha instead, he considers, letting the bitter liquid slide down his throat and coat his insides with thick soporous oil. After all, that is what they had originally come here for, and at his own urgent suggestion too. Well, it’s going so well he’s somehow gotten himself ditched and drinking alone, while Jooheon is probably off fending away crowds of alphas with flushed cheeks and perpetually pink lips.

Minhyuk feels the same flush seep through his own face, and he frowns, squinting lightly when a face begins to appear in the glimmering puddle staring up at him from the concave bottom of the shot glass. He thinks it’s Jooheon’s wobbly visage for a moment, painted with liquid amber into a look of teary betrayal, but when he puts his eye to the rim, there’s only the blankness of the hazy liquid.

He raises his head up from his scrutinous examination and promptly decides he’s not drunk enough. If the shame from acting like an absolute idiot is still burning under his skin, then he needs more vice flowing through his veins to flush it out.

By the time he’s nursing his sixth shot, he’s begun nipping at the already minute amount of liquor as if he was partaking in the finest of wines. In truth, he’s nearing that point of the night where his thoughts are turning into fine mush, along with the disappearance of his already barely existent inhibitions. The alcohol suavely washes away all his worries about Jooheon, glibly dulling the large part of his brain that’s wholly dedicated to his unflinching sense of protectiveness over the younger hybrid, and he begins to wonder, cheerily, why isn’t he out there on the dance floor enjoying himself yet?

The masochistic cat in him unfortunately jumps to attention, reminding him with a sly swipe of its paw past lazy ears, it’s because he would rather not see possessive hands running themselves all over Jooheon’s soft body, squeezing him out of Minhyuk’s trembling reach. He’s never seen it, but the obscene imagery conjured up by his overreaching, unbound mind is more than enough to cause an unpleasant churning to rise from his empty stomach, turning the taste of his mouth sour. He glances at the glowing amber liquid, and suddenly, it doesn’t seem quite so tempting anymore.

He’s about to discretely hide his still very full shot glass behind the growing collection of already drained, clear ones, when the stool next to him screeches aside and a lonely shadow slips into the now-empty space. Minhyuk jolts to a minute standstill, whiskey shot poised in the loose hold of his sluggish fingertips as he watches the stranger with shifting pupils. For most of the night, he hasn’t had any silent drinking partners, and he was more than okay with that - well, up until this guy had shown up of course.

The lighting in the club alternates between neon blasts of color and a cheap kaleidoscope of swinging lasers from a myriad of free lightsticks. Minhyuk’s slurring brain hisses against the random flashes of offensive brightness, but he has no difficulty mapping out the solid silhouette of the man next to him, pupils automatically dilating to eclipse the dark suns of his irises as he takes in the view before him. His seat partner pays him no attention, gaze unmoving and silent, even as he sets down the shot glass with a disruptive clank.

Instead, the other man tips slight fingers under his chin in a terribly sober move, lips pursed into a small point as he waits for the bartender to arrive with his drink. He looks like the fussy type, Minhyuk observes with a sense of vague annoyance. Definitely the fussy type, he confirms, narrowing his eyes as the guy huffs out a short breath, reaching back with his pale, pink-tipped fingers to smooth back a few perfectly neat strands of ink-black hair.

A crisp movement draws Minhyuk’s attention to the top of his head, where two triangular ears stand tall, mildly twitching against the invisible flow of air traveling throughout the club. They're actually almost oval, Minhyuk decides, sliding his eyes up from their rounded bases to the black needle-point tips.

He scooches minutely closer, unspeakably drawn to them through some kind of loose curiosity. Through further observation, he can see how polished they are, sleekly matching the smooth color of their owner’s gel-styled hair, differing only by a ruffle of rusty brown inside their barely curled interiors. He’s a domestic puppy, Minhyuk realizes with a surge of irrational glee. One that likes to take care of himself too, he scoffs internally as the dog hybrid smooths his fingertips along the finely shaved sides of his head.

The drink finally comes, to expectant alertness of both men, and Minhyuk watches eagerly as his neighbor takes it politely with outstretched palms. It’s in a tall, clear glass, the drink sloshing around lightly with no discernable color to speak of. For a moment, Minhyuk is convinced it’s a mojito from the fresh bite of citrus floating through the sweaty musk of the club, but a neon ray of yellow passes over them, and sees with a start this guy only ordered a simple mint soda.

The proof of his realization fans tauntingly at him from over the edge of the dripping glass with a searing green pungency. Sure, there’s a slice of lemon stuck at the bottom of some ice cubes, but the drink itself is tinted with a deep shade of emerald, and Minhyuk blames his failing sight on the whiskey drugging his system with the tempting promise of a limitless high.

For some reason, the fact that this guy got all dressed up, all dolled up, only to come out this entire way just to order a plain soda irks him beyond all logical thought - so much so, he gropes for his once-forgotten shot of half-drunken whiskey and upends the rest of it into his waiting mouth with an audible gulp. When he sets down the glass this time, even louder than before, the other man’s eyes are finally on him, straw perched loosely against a lush bottom lip. Minhyuk begrudgingly wonders if he’s wearing lip gloss.

“So, what’s a guy like you doing here ordering that kind of drink?” he asks impulsively, lolling his head slackly against a propped palm as he shifts his gaze pointedly to the offensive glass of mint soda.

The guy takes a long sip from said drink, pursing his delicate lip-gloss lips around the tip of the straw in slight surprise. “I’ve got an early day of work tomorrow,” he replies lightly, but he tips the non-alcoholic beverage just an inch away with a graceful shove of two small fingers, as if primly saying I’ve had enough of this for now anyways.

“Then what are you even doing here tonight?” Minhyuk accuses bluntly, nevermind the fact that he has a five a.m. shoot to work tomorrow morning. This guy doesn’t doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m actually friends with the DJ,” the dog hybrid sighs, throwing a furtive glance towards the source of the pounding bass pulsing through the club. He turns back to Minhyuk, arched almond eyes focusing precisely onto the other’s blurry gaze. “He said he would come find me once he’s switched out for the night, but well…” he glances towards the booming DJ station again, “looks like the other guy still hasn’t arrived yet.”

“So what,” Minhyuk hums, tone lilting and light, tracing his finger around the wet rim of his emptied sixth shot, “you’re just going to here all prim and pretty and let some handsy alpha come claim you for the night?” He can’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, nor the teasing indignance from bleeding into his tone. The whiskey has made being rude objectively hilarious, and when he gets like this, all he wants to do is mess with the impassive masks of people like this frowning guy before him.

“I’m an alpha, actually,” the other man answers, taciturn and calm, only betraying a sense of clinical distaste with a slight raise of a single neat brow.

Minhyuk blinks once, twice, hazy and languid, showing no surprise at all. He had suspected as much; at first glance, the dog hybrid had seemed tiny, almost delicate in stature, but there was something undeniably proud and compact in the set of his narrow shoulders, giving him the sleek presence of someone twice his size. Minhyuk won’t admit to it out loud, but unconsciously he does the same thing, albeit for entirely different reasons.

He feigns light surprise, just vaguely pulling his brows up past his bangs before pursing his lips into a flat line of easy acceptance. “Certainly wouldn’t stop them,” he throws out, casually giving the other man a very noticeable once-over.

“Certainly isn’t stopping you,” his drinking partner replies, eyes finally flashing with an emotion that isn’t exasperation or unimpressed-ness, if those even qualify as valid forms of human expression. Minhyuk thinks he can hear a faint growl in the other’s clipped tone, and he shivers with an odd sense of exhilaration.

He pulls himself forward, heated attraction making the air unbearably thick between them. He isn’t even thinking in full sentences anymore, only recognizing and following the red pulse of tease and provoke in the back of his mind. “So,” he breathes, knocking his knees into the open v of the other man’s spread thighs, “the puppy has some bite, huh?” He smirks, popping his canines into full view, ready for a challenge.

What he isn’t ready for are the dog hybrid’s eyes suddenly streaking with an intense burst of heat, a black hole burning hotter than the largest sun in the galaxy as he yanks Minhyuk forward with a punishing grip around his choker, muttering, “I’ll show you puppy.” This time there’s a definite growl, rumbling past his lips as he crashes their mouths together with a raw clack of teeth ripping over skin.

Minhyuk’s cry of surprise is swallowed by a demanding tongue that licks urgently into his slack mouth, pressing past his lips without a moment of courtesy. Liquid fire sears through his stomach, and he drags the stranger to him with a rough hand cupped to the back of his head, intentionally yanking on the neatly styled locks with unrestrained violence. Another growl rolls out of the stranger’s mouth, this time melding into the heated cavern of his throat as his mouth is thoroughly explored and invaded with implacable dominance.

He hisses, asserting his own control, tightening his grip on the other’s head to the point of yanking out a handful of fine black hairs and biting down into the dog hybrid’s glossy bottom lip none too gently, pressing with the harsh edge of his canines. The groan he swallows down only sets the lowly simmering heat in his stomach ablaze with the subtlety of a bomb, and he lunges forward, using his height to his advantage to force the unyielding stranger into temporary submission.

It’s been so long, an eternity almost, since he’s made out with someone to this extent of ferocious violence, neither of them providing a shred of care for the other’s pleasure as they each chase after their own, only dumping gasoline onto the catching wildfire in each other’s veins. Minhyuk can’t even tell if he’s breathing anymore, the tight ball in his chest growing more grand with each moment of wet, willing suffocation as their teeth meet with a painful click. He’s never had it like this before, this rough, this good, not even through his shared heats-

(his shared heats with Jooheon. Jooheon who’s so soft, too soft, ever since childhood, and Minhyuk just left him, forgot him, to the cavernous beast of the club, where there’s no way he could ever fend for himself, not against all those alphas no-)

He rips his mouth away from its tangled, intimate embrace, spit-slicked lips parting in a desperate gasp for air. The other man frowns up at him, the same wetness staining his bruised mouth, body tensed and braced in feverish pleasure against the bar. His hair is artfully mussed and parted messily with a few thin strands tickling his half-lidded gaze of hooded want. Minhyuk shivers, ears pressing back against his head as he takes a few slow steps, backing out from between the dog hybrid’s splayed legs.

“I-I have to go,” he stutters, ducking his gaze down to a pair of polished dress shoes. Before his mistake of the night can reply in that steady, sharp voice of his, Minhyuk turns tail and runs, far, far away, without a single glance backwards to the mess he’s left stunned behind him.

He clenches his eyes shut, dodging around wayward bodies with wobbling, but still intact grace. His only consolation for the night is that he’ll never have to see this delicate, domineering stranger ever again. Minhyuk runs away and pretends that it doesn’t hurt at all.

---------

“Ah-” Jooheon gasps, breathily, breathlessly, when Changkyun noses down the fine line of his twitching pulse, hot exhales of Saharan wind stripping across the flat plain of his wrist. The younger hybrid’s eyes have slipped closed again in a translucent fan of hazel eyelashes, fluttering, trance-like, against the hard edge of his cheek.

Jooheon watches, caught in his own flushed stupor as Changkyun traces over his proffered arm with a sense of slow, shaking reverence, carefully patient in his holy quest to memorize every subtle nuance of the scent arising like a breath of warm perfume from the fragrant wrist before him. He inhales again, another long drawl, dragging the breath harshly against the roof of his mouth, tasting the scent of pure sweetness as it dissipates in a mind-numbing fog through his nose and into the rest of his body. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to think in coherent sentences after introducing his brain to this opioid. He sighs, tireless, and takes in another deep impassioned drawl of pungent lavender and lavish honey.

Jooheon reddens, heart shaking, heat spreading when Changkyun shifts his captive hand over a smooth cheek, cradling his twitching palm to the curve of his own face with the gentility of a long-lost kitten. He tucks himself into the soft flesh of the older hybrid’s palm, yearning to bury himself into the very depths of the velvet aroma emanating from cotton-cream skin.

Jooheon deliberates, hand twitching, unbidden, at the other’s unfathomable expression. He’s just a kid - a pup, the jittery rabbit in his mind supplies, and yet here they are: complete strangers, pushed together in this affectionate, deeply implicating position in plain view of an open alleyway. Changkyun noses into the delicate folds of skin under his cheek, huffing out a ticklish exhale, and Jooheon’s poor heart jumps so hard he starts to see the bright stars of the sky begin flying past the dirty yellow light of the street lamps and embed themselves into the black crown of the younger man’s bowed head.

It’s all a dream, a heat induced hallucination, he tells himself, the fire from Changkyun’s prolonged touch melting him into a frenzied pile of mush. Still, when a soft cheek presses insistently to his stiffened palm, the better part of his brain is too ruined to stop his hand from reaching back and reciprocating with a gentle swipe of a thumb to the delicate ridge of a high cheekbone hidden under a set of glimmering, flickering lashes. They brush, so light, so frail, against his finger, and suddenly, Jooheon is all too aware of the same pink heat trailing itself across the slender edge of Changkyun’s slack face.

Oh, he stills, thumb paused mid-way in its affectionate ministrations. He doesn’t quite know what to make of that realization nor what he should do with it.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), he never manages to consider any potential options because a heavy force is crashing into him, dragging, pulling, and squeezing with the unstoppable will of a six ton truck ramming into an unsuspecting deer at its full violent velocity.

“Minhyuk hyung,” Jooheon breathes out with trembling lungs, hands twitching uselessly at his side, arms pinned in the other’s unrelenting embrace.

“You dummy!” Minhyuk immediately leans back, frantically scanning blown black pupils over Jooheon’s face and body for any sign of harm or assault. All he finds are pink cheeks, and in a moment of cold, exhausting calm, he hastily attributes it to the night chill.

The sudden appearance of Minhyuk’s terribly familiar brand of merciless affection, complete with sharp words and lovingly oppressive touches - it sends a surge of desperate relief through Jooheon that he had never even realized was trapped inside of him, fluttering in erratic beats in the cage of his heart. He falls a little now, knees buckling as he throws himself into Minhyuk’s steadfast embrace with a crying whimper of “hyung.” His eyes finally slip closed, and the heat in his veins simmer down as the fresh, cooling scent of cherry blossoms with a biting hint of whiskey once again surrounds him in a protective cloud of safety.

Minhyuk never lets their bodies separate, only rearranging his arms around Jooheon’s quivering self in order to squeeze around him even tighter. He strokes one hand in a slow rhythm down the swaying curve of the younger’s back, while the other grips tightly at the base of his neck, fingers alternating between scratching through the outcropping of fine hairs there and just pressing at the soft flesh under them, spreading open to their full length in order to encompass and feel the entire span of Jooheon’s neck. He presses his nose into the crook of the younger hybrid’s mellow jaw, taking in a deep breath as he reassures himself with the very loud and very fast pounding of the other’s pulse.

The entire time he doesn’t allow his gaze to wander from the solitary figure who has been staring at them with such unblinking focus, it only makes Minhyuk hold Jooheon to him that much closer.

He doesn’t break eye contact with the boy, staring him down with slitted pupils even as the other hybrid slowly kneels to pick up a discarded jacket. Even in his bent position, he still manages to glare up at Minhyuk with the same strange intensity, crouched and ready as if waiting for a fight. The cat hybrid compulsively buries half of his face into Jooheon’s neck, who automatically makes room for him, tilting his head to the side in an accidental show of vulnerability. Minhyuk watches with his one unobstructed eye as the boy’s expression of gloomy placidness immediately darkens into one of unmistakable jealousy, and he decides on the spot that he doesn’t approve of him one bit.

Eventually, the silent battle between them fades, too tense to be continued as Jooheon shivers in the cold night air, so Minhyuk pulls the younger man back with a firm but gentle hold at the scruff of his neck. “We should go,” he states with quiet aplomb, and without even lending him a moment to reply nor to protest, he yanks Jooheon to him with a crushing grip and begins marching the both of them out of the whistling alleyway.

He’s completely aware of it when he passes by the silent boy, feeling the unsettling chill of the other’s unshakeable glare on him, but he resolves to walk past with his head held high, no intention of conceding even a bit at the tail end of this impromptu battle.

When the pale edge of the boy’s slim face slides out of view, his heart surges with a loud pitter-patter of triumph, that he’s gotten out of here with everything he needs intact (pride, victory, Jooheon), until he’s jerked to a stumbling stop, knees knocking, feet shuffling into the broken gravel.

He whips his head around, teeth furiously bared in a ready hiss, before he jolts to a frozen pause to observe the scene before him. The kid has somehow managed to grab Jooheon’s free hand with his scrawny arms and is currently holding it captive with both hands in a way that is entirely too familiar and intimate for someone Minhyuk has never met before, let alone someone he’s ever seen Jooheon hang out with.

The boy looks up, whispering something inaudible and clandestine, jealousy melting into the recognizable tenderness of the beginnings of loving infatuation. The edges of his mouth perk up in a crooked smile, and Minhyuk grudgingly admits it’s a good look on him. The nameless stranger finally breaks his lovesick eye contact to rummage for something in his skin-tight pockets, skinny hand emerging seconds later with a simple sharpie twisted between his fingers.

He hunches over, spreading Jooheon’s fingers open gently as he scrawls out what Minhyuk assumes to be his number in bold strokes of black, pressing each line without hesitation into the pale impression of the rabbit hybrid’s skin. Minhyuk sees himself ripping his frozen friend away, entirely aware of how loose the strange boy’s soft hold must be, and ruining the looping numbers with a jagged streak that would cross out any last remnants of his meager existence in their lives.

He stops though, compelled by some nameless impulse to at least wait for the other to finish his yearning, desperate task. Common courtesy is what he’ll call it for now.

However, the moment the wet felt tip of the pen lifts from Jooheon’s palm, Minhyuk is turning on the spot, resolutely dragging the younger man away, unwavering in his decision of never seeing this stranger’s slender, crookedly grinning mug ever again.

Jooheon stumbles along, heart aching with a deep, deep reluctance, and he raises his head back above his shoulder for one last farewell look. Changkyun is sliding on the small jacket he had lent him earlier with a casual shrug of his narrow shoulders, smoothing down one of the leather lapels with a blunt grip between his forefinger and thumb.

There’s something indescribably confident about it, something that makes it so undeniably attractive, that all Jooheon can do is let a flush overtake his face and raise his hand in a weak attempt at an innocent goodbye.

Surprisingly, Changkyun returns his wave with full fervor, and this time, Jooheon definitely isn’t hallucinating the tilted handsome smile that glints across from the far side of the receding alleyway. The burning embarrassment abates just enough for him to shoot back his own bright grin and enthusiastic wave, much to Minhyuk’s irked chagrin.

---------

“So do you forgive me yet?” Minhyuk grunts lowly as he focuses on lathering organic, herbal-scented shampoo into Jooheon’s plastered, wet hair. The “all-natural, vitality enhancing” label is really just some sly advertising tactic, a money trap for gullible omegas because of course rubbing some unknown flora into your scalp somehow works the wonders that your biology can’t. Minhyuk doesn’t believe that bullshit for one second, but for some reason Jooheon seems to be taken with how pungent and aromatic the smell of the cheap shampoo is.

Personally, he suspects the younger uses it as a makeshift scent dampener for the overwhelming sweetness that emanates from him in every possible manner - but that’s really neither here nor there; not when Minhyuk considers the bare fragrance of the other’s neck, softened by the healing morning light after a long night of heavy rest, free of any bitterness from the artificial scent of soap or body wash, but sweetened just so from a natural sheen of sweat from being coddled up under warm blankets and an even warmer embrace - it’s undeniably his favorite thing in the world.

“Hmm,” Jooheon hums, tipping his head back into the Minhyuk’s impromptu massage, completely unaware of the gentle ramblings going through his head right now. Skilled fingers deliver a particularly hard dig to the flat plain between the two ridges of his dripping ears, and he can’t suppress the groan that flies out of the deepest part of his chest, melting into the steamy air with a resonating rumble that fades into something akin to a slight purr.

“Yeah, yeah you are until the end of time if you do that- “ Another circling stroke presses into the exact same spot again, and Jooheon sighs contentedly, letting the last word slip out fruitlessly in an attempt to complete his thought, “again.”

Minhyuk obliges silently, putting his elbows into the work as he goes through a systematic process of digging with the tips of his fingers here, kneading with the hard bone of his knuckles there, until Jooheon’s head is lolling loosely in his smooth hands, complete mush in his open palms. He cradles the rabbit hybrid’s slippery nape with a tight, secured hold, groping to the side of the tub for the pump bottle of “lush, skin-softening” body wash.

Again, Minhyuk believes none of it. Besides, Jooheon is already too soft on his own to need this kind of commercial exploitation. He pushes down on the flat top of the bottle anyway, squeezing the gelatinous liquid into his cradled palm and pushing it around with messy strokes of his fingers inward to try and warm up the cleanser. The scent of some indistinct plant floats into the humid bathroom to join the similar aroma of the shampoo, and Minhyuk suspects Jooheon of shopping for toiletry supplies with a very limited perspective.

It’s terribly precious, he decides with an aching tug in his gut, subtly tightening his grip on the younger’s nape as he gently urges with a push of his fingers and a press of his palm for Jooheon to sit up. The rabbit hybrid obeys, albeit with dragging reluctance, flopping his spine forward into a hazy slump the moment his upper body slumps out of the foamy water.

“Hey,” Minhyuk reprimands, slapping his open palm over the hunched back in front of him with a resounding smack. The dozing rabbit immediately snaps up, whipping his head around with a few flying droplets of water to glare at the older hybrid. “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” Minhyuk ignores the other’s indignant stare and begins lathering up his back, starting another impromptu massage. Jooheon’s expression quickly fades into sleepy complacency again, dewed eyelids drooping as warm fingers soothe away the tenseness under his skin.

“You,” Minhyuk promptly notices and pinches the loose skin of the rabbit hybrid’s curved neck with a stinging pull. “Stop falling asleep - I still have to take off your makeup, okay?” He gives one last harsh pinch to Jooheon’s spasming nape, soothing a palm of body wash over it immediately afterward as a quiet apology.

When the only answer he receives is a slightly straightened bare back, he assumes the younger hybrid has vaguely comprehended his instructions and busies himself again with the task at hand. He’s so fixated on lathering up the translucent curve of Jooheon’s back, he almost misses the muted whisper that floats back from the haze of soap, bubbles, and lukewarm water.

“What about you hyung?” the other hybrid murmurs, voice filmy with the cottony down of oncoming dreams. In a lower tone, softer, but no less subdued, he offers with a jerky stutter, “I could - help you-” He falters, pausing at his own raw vulnerability, quickly tacking on an “ if you want” at the end to make his request seem less desperate.

Minhyuk’s wizened heart skips a beat, and his hands still for a moment in their tender ministrations. He wobbles back into action seconds later, resuming his cleaning with slow circles of a damp towel. “I don’t know Jooheonie,” he breathes out in an unsteady whisper, “you know the whole wet cat in water thing, not the biggest fan of sitting in a pool of my own filth for too long.”

The glimmering back in front of him slumps, and he can already see the childish pout forming over the other’s pink cheeks. He sighs, long and inevitable, and against all rational thought, he supplies apprehensively, “But a bath once in awhile couldn’t hurt, especially tonight I suppose.”

Before the last syllable has even left his lips, two dripping wet arms have fastened themselves around his neck, a slippery cheek pressing against his own frozen one, heated flesh bunched up in round apples of pure joy. Minhyuk immediately draws in one himself, fur shocked straight into the air as generations of animal instinct imbedded into him screech in fierce protest.

There’s already soap-laden water tickling down his neck, seeping into the collar of his ruined silk nightshirt as Jooheon tugs eagerly, without a hint of malice, at the drenched fabric. “Come on in hyung,” he exclaims, fingers frantically making quick work of of tiny, slippery buttons. Minhyuk can only sit back and allow his shirt to be jerked this way and tugged that way until a soothing touch slides the silk off from around his pointed shoulders. Despite the humid bathroom air, he finds himself shivering as a draft of nerves pass through him.

Fortunately, Jooheon backs off after divesting him of his shirt, waiting with a watchful gaze as Minhyuk slithers out of his pajama bottoms. His apartment is the typically overpriced and cramped dream of desperate millennials with one exception: the bathtub. It’s a plain, round, pool-shaped structure with a removable shower handle that can fit up to two people, three for a tight squeeze, and Jooheon has never been more thankful for his off-handed choice of a particular living space until now. Minhyuk rarely, if ever, subjects himself to prolonged contact within water, so he looks forward with inordinate glee to the moment he can dump a fistful of the offending liquid over the older man’s flattened ears.

“Don’t even think about it,” the cat hybrid bites out, sucking in a breath as he lowers himself into the rippling surface inside the bathtub. His tail, upon dipping a hair into the water, arches high into the air, dampened fur pressing itself to the straight, rigid line of his spine in a futile attempt to avoid the indefinite fate of being completely drenched.

“Hyung,” Jooheon sticks out his bottom lip, raising his hands up in an act of innocent surrender. His fingers are twitching, tips wrinkled and slightly pink from the steam, and Minhyuk has a moment of a terrible premonition, of him sopping and pathetic, ears drooped and dripping with the promise of a cold the next day.

“Fine,” he grits out, teeth grinding as his bones reluctantly creak and groan, shifting to expose his bare, goose-bumped back to Jooheon’s keen and ready hands.

Surprisingly, thank god, he isn’t immediately doused with a lukewarm wave, but instead with a rough towel that gingerly acclimates his clenched insides to the sensation of having a perpetual layer of liquid dripping across his usually dry skin. Jooheon cleans him in this slow, careful way, making the least of his discomforts with inaudible murmurs of reassurance and the soft, warm press of ethereal, airy fingers.

He moves on in the same manner to the elder’s scalp, taking special care with the other’s flicking ears. Even as they twitch at the unfamiliar cold wetness pooling inside sensitive caverns, the lathering hold of delicate strokes around the thin flesh surrounding his fragile bones almost relaxes Minhyuk enough for him to begin nodding off. Yeah, he concedes with a sigh, feeling the shampoo balloon into suds as affectionate fingers scratch the lather rhythmically in short strokes against his scalp. He can definitely see how Jooheon almost fell asleep multiple times to this kind of heavenly treatment.

After pushing his foamy head under the beating spray of the shower head, keeping him still there with a steady grip on his hunched shoulder, it’s finally Minhyuk’s turn: his turn to clean Jooheon’s supple complexion of all its smudged remnants of teary eyeliner and sticky patches of lip gloss and leave him glowing in all his bare-faced glory. He’s not going to lie, warming up a quarter of milky face wash in-between poised palms, he’s been looking forward to this.

The younger hybrid closes his eyes calmly, lashes fluttering and sticking in silken strings to each other as he entrusts himself entirely to other’s primed and ready touch. Minhyuk goes through the motions of this everyday with tight, emotionless professionalism for himself, for others, but it’s always been different with Jooheon. He takes his time, reserving all the clinical meticulousness for models on the rush of the runaway, leaving him only with a slow, aching tenderness for dreamy moments like these.

The flick of light lashes, clean of all drudging traces of mascara, the slow press of his fingers into the easy give of malleable cheeks, and the plumpness of peach-pink lips as he wipes away every last bit of gloss, thumb mild and soft in its careful touch - it’s all more than enough to make his heart twist with the most pleasurable ache.

He’s too entranced, vision blurred, mind hazy, to notice Jooheon’s lilting whispers playing like the relaxing crackle of a fiddling radio in the background of his consecrated ritual. It’s only when a strong murmur of “Changkyun,” injected with a burst of excitement, brushes past his cheek, does he snap out of his trance.

“Who?” Minhyuk questions snappishly, rubbing off the last layer of facial cleanser and internally mourning the inevitable end of his silent worship.

“The guy with me in the alleyway?” Jooheon replies, already slipping out of the tub and cinching a spare towel around his waist. The wet curve of his exposed hip glints above the rough white texture of the flimsy fabric, and Minhyuk wonders if it would be an appropriate time for him to saunter over there and pinch the supple flesh on innocuous display. From the other’s waiting glare, he supposes not.

“Oh, you mean that random kid slobbering all over your hand in the alleyway? Yeah, sure I remember him,” Minhyuk replies lightly, wrapping his plastered hair in a loose turban of cotton. The bath was vaguely fun while it lasted, but he’s entirely ready to never do that again, the provided exceptions being if his legs are literally broken and he physically isn’t able to stand up for a shower or if Jooheon simply asks him again. The chances of the second option, are unfortunately, quite high.

“He saved me in the club earlier from that creep in line, okay?” The rabbit hybrid protests, words muffled into the worn fiber of an old college t-shirt that he slips on over his head. “It was the least I could do in return - besides it was just some light scenting on the wrist,” he reasons, fiddling with the loose edge of hem so that it falls over his flushed collarbones.

“Sure, that’s obviously the thing you let an absolute stranger do to you when you’re out in an abandoned alleyway,” Minhyuk mutters under his breath from the next room over, rummaging around for a suitable shirt to replace his ruined pajama top. By the time he’s found one rumpled up under a pile of fallen bedding and blankets, his mood has considerably soured. Sleep deprivation is kicking in, along with the dread of working a five a.m. shoot tomorrow, and just thinking about the infuriating stranger from the club tonight is rapidly causing the onset of an ear-splitting headache to begin. He soothes a hand over the damp fur of his disgruntled ears in a cautionary preventative measure.

Jooheon pads over from the bathroom, barefoot, shuffling the tender skin of his inner thighs together as he leans a clothed hip against the door frame, gazing over at Minhyuk with bright eyes yearning to tell a story. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” the cat hybrid throws out decisively from his curled position on Jooheon’s meager twin-sized bed, eyes glued to his blank phone screen.

“Yeah, I’m going to text him tomorrow,” Jooheon throws back, interpreting Minhyuk’s excuse to suit his own purposes. He grabs his phone, the bunny charm hooked on the edge tinkling sweetly against his marked hand, the black numbers still stark and bold over his skin. There’s already a small smile perking over gloss-free lips as he plops down on the occupied bed, resting his back against Minhyuk’s stretched out figure. He saves the new contact with a nervous tapping of his fingers, spelling out changkyunnie after a moment’s deliberation.

Unbeknownst to him, Minhyuk has not been editing aesthetic shots for instagram the entire time, but he’s actually peeked over the length of Jooheon’s arm and taken down Changkyun’s number in his phone for his own indefinite plans that are rapidly taking form at this very moment. Strange alleyway sniffer is definitely receiving a text from him tomorrow as well.

Unaware of his friend’s plan, Jooheon sets his phone down with a content flutter of his inner schoolgirl’s heart and rolls over, pressing himself to Minhyuk’s drowsy heat. The cat hybrid slips his own phone under their shared pillow, five a.m. alarm already ticking down to his eventual shoot of actual death, and turns to tuck the younger’s soft, swollen, half-asleep face to his chest. Jooheon breathes in the fresh spring of cherry blossoms with a hint of whiskey, Minhyuk noses into clean curls of honey, wrapped in the sharp fragrance of lavender, and they both fall asleep intertwined in and around each other’s bodies and scents, all plans and schemes put off until the next dawn.

In the warm solitude of the night, they hold each other close, and that’s all they need for now.

#happycakewrites

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