"We'll try and get to the bottom of all this and properly record the investigation," the policeman said, though his tone drawled lazily with no sense of urgency.

I stood quietly behind Jimin, a damp cloth pressed against my wound, and watched over his shoulder where two other policemen were dragging the still knocked out criminals, handcuffed, into the flashing blue and red light cars.

Jimin was the one who'd handed the cloth to me before rushing upstairs to call the police. While he'd been gone I'd also washed my face and rinsed out my mouth, desperately trying to free the metallic taste of blood from my mouth after going chomp chomp for my life.

The silver-haired Outworlder was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He nodded once, face eerily expressionless. "Have a good night."

The officer turned away without another word. Jimin closed the door and turned to face me. He grinned. "Well that was an adventure."

"They were going to kill you Jimin," I said softly.

"Unfortunately for them." His grin widened, smug.

Frustration bubbled up in me. "Can you stop taking things so lightly for once?" I demanded. "Your life was in jeopardy!"

At that his gaze softened. "Here." He gently took my arm and pulled me towards the kitchen counter where he helped me up on the stool. "Hang on for a moment while I grab the first aid kit."

The cut on my palm was finally beginning to sting a little and I hissed as I peeled off the cloth, the blood causing the material to stick. The injury wasn't too deep. Probably a faint scar would remain at most. Jimin had mistaken my prior question on whether it would scar as worry, when in reality, part of me actually hoped it would scar.

It would be an interesting story to tell anyone who might ask.

My mind couldn't stop replaying the events that had just taken place. The mess and pain of trying to fend myself against the assassin, then Jimin arriving with his blazing Marks of frost and starlight, the way he'd so quickly disarmed the man, and then his gentle kiss on my fingertips.

I stifled a groan. I knew how to recognize when I had a crush on someone. And it seemed like I was quickly developing a massive crush on my assigned alien— who I'd drunkenly slobbered over, superglued to a bed and possibly endangering his life; not to mention who also just happened to beat up two fully grown men like it was nothing.

Said alien crush appeared again with the first aid kit. He plopped down on the stool beside me and deftly opened the box. "Hold out your hand," he instructed.

I pressed my lips firmly together as he tenderly took my hand into his. I refused to even let a whimper of pain escape as he began cleaning it. Instead, I tried to distract myself by talking. "Where did you learn to fight so well?"

"Those guys didn't know how to fight," he replied simply, head bent and focused on my cut.

"Maybe not professionally. But both of those guys were bigger than you for one, and—"

"Nonsense," Jimin snorted. "No one is bigger than me."

I didn't buy into his attempt of diversion from my question. "I know that no one could have knocked those two down as easily as you without some sort of background in fighting," I finished.

Jimin didn't answer and only reached over to begin rummaging around the different size bandaids in the box.

I dared to reach over and place my uninjured hand on his arm.

The touch alone made him exhale and his shoulders sagged a tiny bit. "I don't want to get into the details," he muttered, tone abruptly flat. "But yes. I do have, as you phrased, a background."

I bit the inside of my cheek at the obvious terseness in his voice. "You don't have to tell me then. But just know that I'm here if you ever want to talk okay?"

A tiny smile played on his mouth. But it was a real smile. "Thanks, partner."

He finally found a bandaid to his satisfaction and gently covered my wound with it. He pulled back as if admiring his work. "Do you want me to kiss it better again?"

"Do you want to?" I blinked innocently back.

He lifted my hand, eyes never leaving mine for a moment, and gently pressed his lips against each of my fingertips before planting a final soft kiss on the palm.

I failed to fight down the blush.

"Better?" He asked, a knowing smile playing on his face.

"Much." I took my wrist from his and cradled it against me. "Thanks."

"So what do you want to do now?" Jimin began closing up the first aid kit.

"I'm not going to be able to go back to sleep," I decided.

"Neither am I," he agreed. "Want to see if there's anything on TV? Or..." He leaned over towards me, eyes hooded. "You want to eat some melons?"

"Television."

"Are you—"

"Television."

He laughed as I brushed past him and made my way to the living room, cursing at how hot my face was.

While he put up the first aid kit, I seated myself on the couch and began flipping through the channels. I'd just settled on some TV drama with what looked like a tense hospital scene happening when he returned. He hopped onto the cushions right beside me despite the plenty of remaining space on the couch.

I couldn't quite focus on the drama, all too aware of his body inches from mine, the silver glow of his Marks always visible from the corner of my eye.

At some point I realized I was no longer even watching the show but rather gazing at the interweaving lines across his skin from the corner of my eye.

He shifted and my eyes snapped up to meet his dark ones. Crap. He'd just caught me staring. I immediately looked forward, sensing his gaze burning into my temple.

He softly chuckled. "I see you," he murmured.

"What?" I glanced back at him.

"I see how you're always staring at my Marks," he said. "Though it's funny. I'm used to seeing people stare at them. But people stare at the Marks like they're repulsive or hideous. You on the other hand..."

I finally turned my head, giving up on all pretense of being invested on the show. "I don't think they're repulsive."

He slowly nodded. "You always stare at the Marks like... you're not scared of them."

"Why would I be scared of them?"

"Because it shows what I really am."

"And what's wrong with that?" I frowned. "Jimin, I think your Marks are beautiful."

The moment those words left my mouth I tensed. Dammit. Was that too forward? But I mean, they were beautiful. And technically I didn't call him beautiful. Even though he was. Wait what?

Jimin tilted his head. His eyes were wide and filled with puzzled intrigue. "You really mean that?"

Last chance to back out. Affirm or deny?

"Yes."

He glanced down at his lap and for a split moment I swore I saw a tiny, shy grin tug at his lips. If I didn't know any better he almost looked flustered. When he looked back up his expression was smooth and serious as ever though.

"Do you want to touch them?"

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