You ran from your car to the door of your apartment, anxious to be out of the cold. It had been absolutely miserable all week and you couldn’t wait for the rain to go away already. Your shivering hands made unlocking the door a chore, but you finally managed it, slamming it shut behind you.
As you shed your jacket and kick off your shoes, you slowly begin to realize you are not just getting warm, you are getting toasty. The heater was cranked up in your apartment. You were so pissed at yourself because you’d just worked an eight hour shift during which you left your heater on all day long.
Deciding the damage was already done, you leave it be, reasoning that you still had to go switch into warm clothes before you could brave another temperature change.
With a weary sigh, you walk to your room and flip on the light, only to freeze in your tracks.
There was someone in your bed.
You walk slowly towards the silent lump that had only a flash of black hair peeking through the blanket burrito they’d rolled themselves into. The only person you could think of that would just help themselves into your home was your brother Jimin, but he never went anywhere without his dog hybrid, and there was definitely only one person in the bed. Deciding that it wouldn’t be wise to get too close, you pick up the curling iron off your vanity and use it to poke the lump.
“Jiminie? That you? Get out of my bed.”
The blanket burrito began to grumble and suddenly two fluffy black ears popped out.
You clenched the curling iron tighter and poked the lump again.
Long and elegant fingers crept out of the blankets to pull some down enough to show their face as the person who was definitely not Jimin glared at you.
“I was having a good dream too, what the fuck.”
The black cat hybrid sighed and slowly unraveled himself from the blankets, rolling until he sat on the side of the bed and scratched his ear.
Yoongi was a stray hybrid that you passed almost every day as you left for work. He lived in the park next to the complex and you’d developed a habit of leaving food for him or just saying hello when you were in a bit of a rush. On your days off, you’d sometimes go and watch him while he played his battered keyboard, trying to sneak huge tips into the box he always set out. If you ever put anything larger than $20, he would glare at you and demand you let him help you with a chore or something because, “I’m not an asshole,” he’d declare as his long and fluffy tail flickered in irritation. You’d always thought he was the cutest thing.
But that didn’t explain why he was here.
“Yoongi, how did you get in my house?”
“You left the window open. Who does that in the middle of a storm? I mean, besides the rain getting in, any weirdo would see a first floor window and just help themselves to your shit.”
“Good point,” You deadpanned, dropping the curling iron onto the end table.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, indicating that he caught your sarcasm and chose not to acknowledge it. He stood up and fixed the comforter before walking out of the bedroom.
“I figured the least I could do is guard the place,” he answered so flatly that you knew he was just covering up his desperation. You could hear the slight hoarseness to his voice, showing signs of a cold. The poor thing was probably sick and freezing and saw your open window like the answer to a prayer. You knew Yoongi well enough to know that he’d never admit anything though.
“Don’t worry. I showered before using the bed, so it’s still clean,” he said as he walked to your kitchen, you following dumbly behind him.
What were you supposed to say or do in this situation? You couldn’t kick him out or you’d feel like an asshole since it was storming outside, but he should know better than to just break into people’s homes.
You watched as he helped himself to your cabinets and set a kettle of water to boil, apparently making tea.
“You don’t have a hybrid, right? I can’t smell any in here, and I never smell any on you,” Yoongi’s voice knocks you out of your thoughts and you catch his amused grin as you struggle to refocus.
“Uh, no. No hybrids. My brother brings his by sometimes, but that’s it.”
“Do you…like hybrids?” Yoongi sounds nervous for the first time, and you wish you could see his face, but he’s already turned back to preparing the tea.
“Of course. I’ve just never gotten around to looking for one of my own.”
The silence over the next few minutes as he finishes preparing the tea is nervewracking. You feel like there is something he’s trying to get you to say, but you couldn’t figure out what.
Yoongi slides a cup towards you, staring at you like he could see into your soul.
“You seem like you’d be a good owner. Maybe. After a little training.”
The sip you’d taken suddenly goes down the wrong pipe and you sputter, coughing and banging your chest as you stare at him incredulously.
“Excuse me? What would I need training for? You’re the one breaking into peoples homes like you’re god damn Goldilocks.”
Hah, good one. Point to you.
Yoongi merely smugly grins and downs his own tea in one gulp before walking back to the bedroom as he scratches his belly.
“There’s nothing for it. I’ll have to be your hybrid. Finish your tea, take a shower, and come to bed.”
Yoongi enters the room, leaving you in a state of - you didn’t even know. Shock, disbelief, and yet…a strange yearning. Not knowing what else to do, you drink your tea like you’ve been told and head to the shower, preparing to apparently spend your first night as an owner.
Although, you weren’t sure who actually owned who.