Chapter Text
- Who turned the lights VernON
It’s literally all Yoon Jeonghan’s fault. Don’t ask Hansol why. It just is. Most things in this house lead back to him, anyway.
It’s ten in the evening, yet the den is lit up like it's high noon and the room is made entirely of windows, sunlight beaming in, except it isn't, because there’s only one window in the den and the curtains are drawn as closed as physically possible to try and hide what’s happening, and Hansol sits calmly in the center of it all.
At least, as calmly as he can, given that he’s currently beaming a respectable 100,000 lumens through every pore of his skin.
“HOLY SHIT—WHO BROUGHT THE SUN INSIDE???” Mingyu shouts, falling to his knees at the door. His hands hit his face, an anguished wail releasing from his mouth as, presumably, his corneas vaporize into a fine mist.
“Here,” Seokmin says grimly, taking out a pair of 2004 New Year’s themed sunglasses from the inside pocket of his jacket. It’s March. No one questions it.
“What the fuck is happening?” Mingyu scrambles to put them on. “Who is that?” He squints. “Vernonie?”
“Hi, hyung,” Vernon sighs.
“What the fuck happened?” Mingyu looks around, and Vernon doesn’t even try to tell him that it’s hopeless. Almost full attendance, and not a single member knows shit about anything.
“He was just sitting in here, glowing,” Seungkwan whispers. “I thought Myungho-hyung had bought a new lamp.”
“I didn’t want to call for help in case—” Vernon gestures upstairs, and everyone ah’s.
Chan.
Vernon can sense him, the way he can sense everyone in his family—even if, strictly speaking, Chan wasn’t quite that. No matter how much Vernon, or his magic, wants it to be true.
He’s upstairs, probably doing homework without a clue in the world that his Hansol-hyung had turned into a human stadium light.
Several times over has Vernon been grateful for how…well. Oblivious their youngest housemate was. He had even cornered Soonyoung once, asking if he had cast a blunted-eyes spell on the boy, despite not a single lick of magical signature being found on him.
Soonyoung had levelled him a look and said he was just about to ask Hansol the same thing.
“Did you eat anything? Drink anything? Piss anyone off recently?” Minghao lists off, one eyebrow permanently lifted above his chunky fashion sunglasses in questioning.
“No, no, and just Cheol-hyung,” Vernon dutifully lists off.
All eyes turn to Seungcheol, who has been sitting quietly in the corner, giant Prada shades balanced precariously on his face, and taking as many pictures as his thumbs can manage.
“Huh?” His mouth twists into an offended pout at all the suspicious stares. “Yah—!”
Joshua shoves a hand in the wolf’s face. “Okay, it’s not Seungcheol.”
Hansol knows that, deep down. Seungcheol doesn’t deal with his grievances like this. And besides, Hansol had bought him a second pistachio crème brûlée croffle, so they're even.
Not to mention, his telepathy can sense how truthful Cheol is, even if he’s not actually opening up his mind to the bulgae’s.
“Was it you?” Seungkwan asks, peering at Joshua with a scrutiny that involves a lot of raised eyebrows and squinting eyes.
Joshua shakes his head vigorously. “It’s not me!”
The whole room is silent with disbelief.
“I’m telling the truth!”
“Hmm.” Seungkwan drags it out, managing to instill many decades worth of skepticism in one sound.
As Joshua continues to fruitlessly protest, Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Mingyu all perk up.
“Can—Chan!” Mingyu hisses, stumbling over his words as he falls over himself, trying to close the door he just came in from. “He’s coming—do something!”
Everyone starts panicking. Wonwoo tries to tackle Hansol behind the couch, Soonyoung starts chanting spells for spontaneous combustion, Seungcheol tries to stop him, and Minghao delicately, gently, closes the other door that leads to the den from the entryway.
The entire room holds its breath as the sound of footsteps patter from one side of the room to the other. Vernon can see it, almost as clear as if he were floating above Chan himself. Chan, stepping off the stairs (that’s that thump, the heavier one, as he jumps that last step, as he is wont to do), making his way around the den to the kitchen.
Can’t believe I actually managed to finish that assignment in time, Vernon hears. He winces and quickly throws up that extra mental barrier he tries to keep between him and Chan. Chan, being human, is more susceptible to…well. Any of Hansol’s powers, when compared to all of their magical hyungs, and Hansol’s been scrambling to put up stronger barriers and avoid crossing any unintentional boundaries. The burst of pleased, proud contentment that oozes from Chan manages to leak around the wall, and Hansol feels his lips quirk upwards, another side effect.
“Hi hyung,” Chan’s cheery voice calls out. It comes muffled through the walls and Vernon watches as half his hyungs extort their magic to hear more of it.
Hyung? Who’s home that they don’t know about? Hansol, puzzled, sweeps over the house again, and can’t catch a single magical signature. Whoever it is, they’re old, and powerful, and probably dangerous—
“Hey, aegi,” Jeonghan replies.
Ah. Makes sense.
“How was work?”
“Ehhh,” Jeonghan lulls. “Same old. Someone started a fight as I was leaving.”
A gasp. “Are you okay?” The real, genuine concern in Chan’s voice could be almost comical, if you knew that Jeonghan could level several blocks with a smile and a snap.
There’s a pause, and Hansol has no doubt that a small, disbelieving smile is spreading across Jeonghan’s face. The gumiho absolutely adored Chan, loved every aspect of him, cooed and coddled him with no shame or reserve. At least a quarter of it was because Chan had no idea who—or what—he was, and Jeonghan thrilled in that. The other three-fourths of it was just how irresistible Chan was. Y’know, as a person.
“Just a little shaken up,” Jeonghan admits. Hansol can hear the mischief that coats his voice. “Can you kiss it better, Chan-ah?”
Chan splutters, then laughs, and the sound floats bright and cheerful and oblivious through the walls. “Eyy, what’re you saying, hyung?”
Jeonghan titters innocently, and Hansol rolls his eyes.
“By the way,” Chan continues. “I was wondering, do you know if Myungho-hyung’s doing some project in the den?”
Hansol stiffens.
“Hm?” Jeonghan’s magic feels like fur when he drapes it across the den. A tactic he does on purpose, so they know that he’s watching, because Yoon Jeonghan is many things and a tricky bitch is like, half of them. Hansol watches as Mingyu’s face scrunches with the effort of holding back a tickled sneeze. “Ah. Yeah, I think he’s playing around with some lamps. Or something.” His voice curves with amusement and Hansol shuts his eyes regretfully. Yeah, he is never living this down.
“Ohhh.” Chan’s voice drops a decibel. “Do you think I can go see?”
Seungkwan clasps his hands together and starts begging the invisible Jeonghan in the sky. Hansol has half a mind to project Jeonghan-hyung PLEASE into the gumiho’s ears.
“Mm, I think he wants to keep it a secret until it’s done.” There’s a rustle of clothes. “C’mon, Chan-ah, let hyung show you the…”
Jeonghan’s voice muffles as he herds Chan away, and Hansol is so grateful that he resigns himself to bearing the brunt of Jeonghan’s teasing nature for at least a week.
“Oh, phew,” Mingyu sighs, pantomiming wiping sweat off his forehead (knowing Mingyu, there was no way his hand didn’t come away at least a little bit damp). “Close call.”
“If we don’t get this fixed, and fast, Chan is definitely gonna find out.” Wonwoo squeezes his lips together, his face set in a “Ah shit, we’re doomed” look. It comes out bimonthly, usually, or whenever Soonyoung opens his mouth.
“And you need to start looking at lamps,” Seokmin tells Minghao. “For contingency,” he says.
Minghao lights up—too soon, Hansol thinks, wincing at his own choice of words—and whips out his phone. There is no doubt that in two days, the world’s most bizarre art project masquerading as a lighting feature will arrive at their door.
“So what’s the plan, people?” Seungkwan tries to snap, fails, and resorts to shaking his hands in a threatening, hurrying manner.
“Did we try true love’s kiss yet?” Joshua asks. “It worked when Cheollie turned green.”
Horrendous time. Hilarious time. Shua has a real, genuine, physical photobook of the incident, bursting with four hundred mostly-similar, shaky pictures taken in the same ten minutes and decorated lovingly with Shrek themed stickers. Hansol knew he could always count on his fellow American. (Shrek came out well after both him and Shua had set up base in South Korea, and neither of them visit often, but there will always be a New York shaped segment in his heart.)
“I paid you fifty thousand won to never speak of this again.” Seungcheol glared and pouted and huffed, much to Joshua’s delight.
“Hyung, you know Shua doesn’t abide by rules like that.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “You have to stop being such an easy target.”
Joshua beams, gleeful. “I seem to have forgotten, babe. Another…hmmm…thirty thousand or so should jog my memory.”
Much to Seungcheol’s credit, he doesn’t fork over another dollar to his gold digger of a lover, but his hands twitch towards his wallet even as he scowls, so points off for that.
“True love’s kiss can’t keep being the solution to all our problems,” Minghao complains, but he walks over to Hansol to peck him on the lips anyway.
It’s nice, it’s warm, it’s sweet and very Minghao and both their magic lights up when they brush against each other. Dark, glittery black opal gets delicately caressed by galaxy blues and purples, sparking silver stars and rainbow play-of-colour wherever they touch.
Minghao caresses his jaw tenderly, and then pulls away. Hansol already knows before it’s over that it didn’t work, because even with his eyes closed the light still manages to permeate through his ocular nerve and right into his very soul.
“Hm. Mingyu?” Minghao moves out of the way, and Mingyu descends on Vernon like a slobbery, overexcited tsunami. A tsunami that’s giggling and wearing goofy glasses. In hindsight, this analogy isn’t very flexible.
Vernon twines his arms around Mingyu’s neck, if just to stay afloat, and the press of Mingyu’s buff arms around his waist make him feel treasured and precious.
Mingyu’s kiss is enthusiastic, if a little spitty, and wholly unhelpful. Vernon presses his forehead into Mingyu’s shoulder, sighing in disappointment.
Joshua’s next, his lips as comforting and warm as a sunny day. He presses a whole row of pecks all over Vernon’s nose bridge, and an overexaggerated smooch right on his mouth.
“Mwah!” Joshua exclaims. “Mwah! Mwah!”
“Okay, okay, enough.” Vernon pushes him away. “You’re banned.”
Joshua giggles, but moves obediently when Seungcheol pulls his arm. Seungcheol can’t kiss casually to save his life, always throwing himself into it with ravishing intent. Vernon moans, muffled, when Seungcheol licks into his mouth, biting and groaning like Hansol was a dessert he meant to devour.
When they part, it’s with a wet, filthy sound and Seungcheol turning bright red. Really, it was almost comical, the way Seungcheol can flip from intense to shy in the drop of a hat—it’s like someone else takes over, and Hansol would bet his life savings on it being Cheol’s “alpha”.
Seokmin laughs outright at how bashful Seungcheol becomes, and it’s with this smiling mouth that he presses kisses into Hansol’s face.
“I think he’s dimming,” Mingyu says to Minghao. “Maybe?”
“Really?” Minghao lowers his designer sunglasses. “Huh. Maybe.”
Seokmin pinches Hansol’s cheeks together with one hand, the motion pushing his lips out comically. The siren’s delightful peal of giggles is almost enough to overcome the absolute loss of dignity Hansol suffers.
Almost.
“Next!” Hansol hollers, syllables smushed and compressed. “Go away, hyung.”
Wonwoo’s kiss is simple, a balm to his flaring embarrassment. “Cute,” Wonwoo comments. “Our baby Bononie.” Two more kisses, and then Soonyoung’s pushing his way in.
“Mwah!” He messily leans in, misses Hansol’s mouth, and ends up pecking Hansol’s cheek.
“Ack!” Hansol windmills, nearly pushed over by Soonyoung’s enthusiasm.
Three pairs of hands and two spells reach out to cradle him, and Hansol is settled gently back onto his feet.
“Hyung!” Seungkwan chastises. “Careful!”
Burnt sugar, green citrus, and deep caramel wrap around him, Wonwoo’s hand tightens on his bicep, and Josh and Seungcheol both have a hand against his back, just in case. Don’t tell the hyungs, but when they do stuff like this, Hansol can’t help but swoon. Internally. Where no one can see it. They can all totally see it.
He doesn’t even have to try to feel the smug, protective glee radiating off his hyungs when they successfully manage to protect their youngest, strongest baby. Hansol lets them have it. (He also thrills in that feeling. Sue him.)
“Sorry, Sollie-ah,” Soonyoung apologizes. He leaves a gentler, calmer kiss as an apology.
“Who hasn’t kissed him yet?” Cheol asks.
Seungkwan raises his hand, situating him just in front of Vernon. “My turn,” he orders.
“Boo,” Vernon acknowledges.
“Nonie,” Seungkwan says back. His hand, almost unconsciously, floats up to Vernon’s ear and starts pinching and pulling.
Cute, Seungkwan broadcasts. Broadcasts, because he knows Vernon will hear it if he pushes against the walls hard enough. Hansol might be the only one with telepathy, but his loves all know how to exploit it.
His kiss is soft, his lips moisturized and shiny and sticky with lip gloss. Vernon chases the taste of strawberries and oranges, bursting on his tongue, and only stops aiming for Seungkwan’s lips when the witch’s hand presses against his chest.
“Did it work at all?” Joshua eyes him critically. “I can’t tell.”
“I think my corneas are gone, so…” Soonyoung shrugs. Suddenly, he whips his head towards the door. “Moon Jun,” is all he says, before the doors open and the sound of Wen Junhui walking in can be heard.
“Aigoo,” Jun says upon opening the door to the den. He’s freshly back from filming a reality show in Changsha, his hair dyed black and blond, and he looks wholly unsurprised at Vernon’s whole situation. “That’s where it went?”
A silence.
“Where what went?” Minghao asks carefully.
“The charm?” He nods at Seungkwan. “Seungkwan messed up a luminous potion for his moonfan flowers this morning. He asked me to throw it out, so I left it on the kitchen counter so I could pour it in the river.”
“Was it in a mug?” Joshua asks, his voice weirdly restrained.
“Yes?” Jun brushes some hair from his eyes. “The Snoopy mug, the blue one.”
Joshua throws his hands up. “I thought that was milk!” he exclaims, his voice horrified.
“You poured it into my coffee?!” Vernon’s jaw is on the floor. “Oh my god.” It was just this morning that Joshua had handed him a steaming latte, a flower painstakingly poured onto the top. Vernon had drunk it all without even a second thought.
“It looked just like milk!” Joshua protests. “I swear—It smelled like milk, too!”
“I was wondering where it went. When I came back after going to get my jacket, the mug was gone.” Junhui nods in understanding.
“Oh my god,” Seungkwan groans. “It was my stupid potion all along.”
Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Seungcheol all burst into laughter.
“What were you planning to do to those flowers, Kwannie?” Soonyoung wipes a tear from his eyes. “Light up the Marina Trench?”
Seungkwan huffs, stomps his foot. “It was an accident! My hand slipped!”
“Okay, okay,” Cheol calms eventually. “As long as you can fix it.”
Seungkwan pushes his bottom lip out. “...I’ll see what I can do.”
“So what were you guys doing in here before?” Junhui asks, innocent.
Hansol shakes his head, hands over his face as everyone catapults into giggles.
☀️