Crayola of Chack

Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.

Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.

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Cedar Chest-

The combination of a thunderous clatter and a high-pitched shriek echoing through the halls of Chase's palace was just an unusual enough noise to interrupt the dragonlord's meditation and send him on a search for the all too obvious source.

Finding Jack, who was in his room at the time of the disturbance, had been the easy part. Less easy had been dragging him out from underneath the avalanche of various junk to be found within.

Chase thought himself quite gracious indeed to wait until his consort made it all the way out of the pile and caught his breath to demand an explanation for the not-so-natural disaster.

Untangling himself from an unraveled ball of twine, Jack gestured to his open closet door, the apparent source of the mess. "It's been, like, ten years since I've been in there," he confessed. "I thought I should…um…go through it or something…"

Chase observed the mound of assorted odds and ends from which he had just rescued his lover. "Well, that backfired."

Jack frowned at him. "Thanks for that, Captain Obvious," he muttered, "you're a life-saver."

Unperturbed, Chase quickly came back with, "You're welcome, grateful citizen, I do my best to help," grinning at Jack's surprised chuckle. "In all seriousness, I wonder just what you intend to do with this mess you've unleashed."

Jack looked at said mess and sighed. "I didn't think it was this bad," he said. "I figured I'd just be rearranging some stuff, but now that I see it… Yeah, I'm gonna have to do some heavy duty purging here. Shit."

"Mind if I watch?" Even as he asked, Chase settled himself on the black sheets of Jack's bed, making it clear that he wasn't really asking permission.

Jack nonetheless shrugged and gave it. "I guess, but I don't see the appeal unless you've got some kind of cleaning fetish."

Chase smirked at him. "I have no particular fascination in watching you clean, but I dolove watching you suffer."

Realizing from that statement that his master had every intention of watching him struggle with his own clutter and not lifting a finger to help, Jack nearly gaped at him. "You're a bastard."

"You sound as if that surprises you."

This gave Jack pause and after only a moment, he solemnly declared, "I am taking on your mantle, Captain Obvious. You may retire knowing you have an adequate replacement."

Chase threw back his head and laughed while Jack turned his attention to the arduous task in front of him.

For an hour or so, Jack busied himself with going through the items that had fallen out of his crowded closet while his overlord watched and occasionally provided commentary—sometimes welcome and others not. Unneeded items went to a discard pile that would later be dragged away by Jackbots while the things Jack wanted to hang onto for whatever reason were more neatly arranged in a different pile. A tertiary pile was also set up for whatever provoked indecision, which Jack would return to later.

To Chase's surprise (and in spite of what a sappy, sentimental dork his consort could be), the Keep Pile was turning out to be only moderately sized and not the contents of the entire closet. When it came to extreme cleaning such as this, Jack seemed to be quite practical and was able to make sound judgments about how necessary an item was to him.

A good thing, certainly, as Chase had no desire to be a broken record and endlessly point out that Jack had survived roughly a decade without any of these things and did he really need them now?

By what seemed to be the halfway point, Chase was barely watching what Jack was doing, lounging on the bed and growing more and more bored for every minute Jack remained too focused on his cleaning to do or say something interesting. In fact, the everlord was about to suggest a break for lunch to refresh them both when a sudden movement caught his eye.

Chase's predator instincts twigged to the motion immediately and he caught a flash of something reddish-brown being swiftly pushed into the Keep Pile.

A mistake on Jack's part, really. If he'd wanted Chase to not notice it, he should have acted more casually.

Chase sat up on the mattress, posture rigid and regal. "Jack," he began firmly, "what was that?"

Far too tellingly, Jack refused to face him. "Nothing," he said, and he said it perhaps a little too quickly.

Chase's expression did not outwardly change, but his tone, sharp and cold said all that needed to be said. "Jack."

"It's a box," Jack amended, but said nothing further and still did not turn to look at Chase.

Leaning forward ever so slightly for a better view of the pile, Chase did indeed see a box among the effects—fairly small and made of wood. "Hmm. And what is in the box?"

Shoulders conspicuously stiff, Jack shrugged. "Nothing important. Just some stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah," and here Jack made his second mistake in making eye contact with his master.

Liar, liar, liar.

Chase raised an eyebrow at Jack, refusing to break his stare. All the while, Jack said absolutely nothing, maintaining a very poor poker face. Holding Jack's eyes, Chase took one step off the bed.

Immediately, Jack's façade broke and he hurled himself on top of the mystery box with a panicked cry of, "No, don't!"

Well, that answered that.

Chase casually sauntered over to the pile, staring down at his consort who was looking quite guilty indeed draped over the box.

"How unimportant the things in that chest must be," he mused sardonically.

Jack tried a sheepish smile which dissolved quickly when he realized that Chase was having none of it. He sighed. "I…have to show you what's in it now, don't I?"

"Yes, I would say so."

Jack sat back, pulling the incriminating box into his lap as he did so. Looking at it, he made a face. "Oh, god, this is embarrassing."

Chase frowned. "What is?"

"Well…this box is…um."

"Do spit it out, Spicer."

"It's yours," Jack blurted out.

Chase blinked at him. "What?"

"It sort of is, anyway," Jack tried to clarify. "I mean, everything in here is, uh…well, yours.But this is from way before we got together, so it's not—"

With a raised hand, Chase cut him off. "Are you saying that you stole from me?"

"No!" Jack quickly denied. "I'd never steal anything from you! Even back then…especially back then, I knew what a death sentence that would be. This is just…stuff you didn't want anymore."

"Tell me you didn't go through my trash, Spicer."

"Only one time! I'm not that much of a freak, really. Besides, what would I want with your garbage?"

Still somewhat baffled and with what could very well be a migraine coming on, Chase pinched the bridge of his nose and sat on the floor beside Jack. Gesturing with his other hand, he instructed, "Open it."

Mortification and his overlord's command seemed to have cowed Jack well enough, for he opened the chest without any further complaint.

Looking inside, Chase was beyond relieved to see nothing that disgusted or horrified him. True to Jack's word, the box did not contain any genuine articles of trash and instead featured more mundane items—a few discarded candle stubs here, some scraps of clothing likely worn into vicious Showdowns there, and a few photographs of him taken on the sly for good measure.

While it was a bit odd, it was hardly as creepy as he had expected.

Reaching out and idly picking through the chest and its contents, Chase wondered, "Why do you still have all this, Jack? Is the real thing not good enough for you?"

Jack balked at even the implication of such a thing. "Are you kidding? You're way more than 'good enough,' Chase! I told you, this was from before…y'know, us. When I didn't have the real thing."

To that, Chase merely made a noise of acknowledgment, his focus suddenly on one item in particular that had caught his eye. It was the metallic glint of it that had gotten his attention, for he so rarely interacted with metals and this was neither the bronze of his armor nor the iron of his spear.

Bringing it closer, Chase saw that it was made of silver but could glean nothing else beyond that. It was simply too small, too bent and crumpled to determine its original shape or what it had once been part of.

"What is this?" he asked of his consort. "I don't recognize it as anything of mine."

Jack's face fell at the sight of it. "Oh. Yeah, that'd be because it never actually ended up in your possession."

"And what do you mean by that?"

Jack took the scrap of metal from Chase, turning it over in his hands with a look that bordered on mournful. "Believe it or not," he said, "this used to be a gear."

Chase stared at it some more, but even that definitive statement could not reconcile with this hideously mangled thing in his mind. It still looked nothing like a gear, and for that matter, "Why would I have been in possession of a gear? Technology is your field, Jack."

"Well, yeah, I made it," Jack said. "It was part of a gift for you, but…you didn't want it."

And quite abruptly, Chase was provided with a flash of memory—himself snarling hateful things at a younger Jack and maliciously crushing a small contraption to bits in his fist.

"Ah, yes," he said out loud, taking the item back from his consort. "Really, it's destroyed beyond all recognition: I should have known my own handiwork. What was it? Before it met its end, I mean."

Jack half-smirked at him. "Y'know the Wu detector I gave you about a week after you made me your apprentice?"

Chase nodded.

"Well, that," Jack declared, pointing at the scrap of metal, "was part of the prototype."

Despite himself, the dragonlord chuckled. "You unimaginative sneak. You gave me the same gift twice?"

Jack grinned unapologetically. "Hey, the first time, you didn't even let me explain what it was so I could give it to you! You seemed pretty pleased with it the second time around, though, so I can't imagine why you'd have cut me off."

Chase set the 'gear' back in the box. "I was irritated with you," he said. "Normally, I might not have turned your gift away as…harshly as I did, but you were being your usual, excessively insistent self that day. You wouldn't take no for an answer and I felt compelled to remind you that I am Chase Young and I may say no to anything I wish."

Jack winced a bit, but conceded, "Yeah, alright, that's fair. I was pretty pushy back then, wasn't I?"

"Yes," Chase agreed without hesitation. "In your youth, you pursued me very aggressively. In fact, that was one of the things I found most repellent about your advances—that you weren't asking."

Seeing Jack's expression torn between contrition and embarrassment, Chase added, "You've moved beyond that stage admirably, though. I cannot say now that I feel at all pressured by you or your attentions."

Chase then leaned over to kiss his consort, a brief show of his own affection before pulling away. "Although, I would like to see just what it is you slipped into your pocket just now."

Jack looked at him as if he'd been struck. "I can't get anything past you, can I?"

Chase snorted. "Clearly, I had no cause to worry. You're performing the Captain's duties well, my young replacement."

Jack drooped and reached back into his coat pocket to retrieve the item he'd tried to hide.

"Really, Spicer," Chase said with a roll of his eyes, "I don't know why you thought this attempt at keeping something from me would work after the first attempt went so well for y—…is that a lock of my hair?"

Jack blushed, eyes looking everywhere but the few strands of black-green hair tied with a red silk string and taking up little more than an inch of space on his palm. "Y…well, I…y-yeah."

Chase took it from him, staring in disbelief. "How did you even get this?" It went unsaid that his long, beautiful hair was an immense source of pride for Chase and that anyone attempting to damage it—or take it—would have had consequences to face.

Jack's cheeks darkened even further and he all but mumbled, "Sh…Shard of Lightning…"

A flicker of elemental power from Chase and the lock was consumed in a small jet of flame, leaving only a puff smoke behind.

Jack watched as his overlord laid a hand over his eyes, looking very irritated indeed. Warily, he asked, "Are you mad?"

Processing the situation, Chase growled. "I should be! You took my hair!"

"…but?"

At Jack's hopeful tone, Chase sighed. "But…you didn't take much…and you did it in such a way that my appearance was undamaged if even Ididn't notice it was done. And as you said yourself, this is from many years ago, so I suppose the statute of limitations has passed on this."

Jack released a breath he'd been holding, clearly relieved.

"That does not,however," Chase declared, "mean that I am alright with the fact that you did it."

"Okay, that makes two of us." At the look he received from Chase, Jack scowled. "What, do you think I like remembering what a stalker I was? Does it look like I'm over here having 'fond memories' of all the times I creeped on you?"

"No," Chase conceded, "it doesn't."

Chase's relatively placid tone was enough to ease Jack's scowl into a mere frown. Red eyes closed as Jack tried to gather his thoughts.

"It's just…it's embarrassing looking back on some of the stuff I did then, but at the same time…I was in love with you even then, Chase, and you were so against it. I didn't really think it'd ever be more than a one-sided thing, so…I didn't care if I was being annoying or creepy. It didn't even…occur to me to think about it."

Knowing his consort's admirable tendency to throw himself wholeheartedly into everything he did, Chase nodded in understanding. "In fairness, I do not believe you would have been nearly so obsessive if my rejections of you hadn't closed off the normal avenues. I take whatever blame is to be had for that."

Jack stared at Chase for a moment as if he didn't know him. "Chase Young,admitting fault of some kind? This is one for the record books."

Chase managed a scoff and a smirk at the same time. "You and I know from our current relationship that we're more than compatible. If there was something keeping us both from realizing that, the fault cannot lie with only one party. As the saying goes, it takes two to tango, Jack."

At that, Jack smiled a bit. "Hey, I'm just glad I've got somebody to tango with, now," he joked, "'cause for awhile there, I was looking like an idiot dancing by myself."

"Not anymore," Chase assured him, punctuating the statement with a hand on Jack's shoulder and appreciating their easy back-and-forth. "However, if I discover that you stole underwear from me as well, you may find yourself without a dance partner for a night or two."

Jack laughed. "No, I never went after your panties," he assured. "A little birdie warned me some of 'em were booby-trapped. I only ever got one whole item of clothing off you," he said, reaching back into the chest to find it, "and you handed this over willingly, so you can't get mad at me."

Chase saw the article Jack removed and recognized the crumpled silken glove immediately, discolored and stiff as it was from the dried blood that had soaked into it.

"Yes," he said softly, "I did tell you to keep that, but I had thought you would have discarded it once you'd stopped bleeding."

Jack grinned at him. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "That was a momentous day: you saved my life and told me you didn't want me to be dead. That sure as hell warrants a souvenir."

Chase did not return the smile. "You already have a souvenir, though," he pointed out, smoothly reaching over to the column of Jack's throat and allowing his fingers to lightly brush across the faint pink scar to be found there.

The day the goth had gotten that mark was one Chase remembered particularly well. Possibly because it was the day that Jack Spicer was nearly cut out of his life—literally.

It had been a routine enough Showdown, Jack doing poorly against the monks as usual. Considering that he had not even been a part of the battle, Chase wasn't sure why he'd been there in the first place, but it was a good thing that he was.

About midway through, one of Spicer's robots began to malfunction. Years later, Jack would tell him that it could have been caused by any number of things, including water damage, overheated circuits, eroded parts, or even too much dust in its processor. In short, any one of the monks could have been responsible but the 'who' didn't matter so much as the 'what.'

What had happened was the automaton's explosion, simultaneously deafening everyone on the scene and activating their tiger instincts to help them duck and cover to avoid the projectiles of shrapnel shot in all directions.

Jack, of course, had no tiger instincts to speak of.

It had been a very near thing. For Chase, it had been only a split second of seeing Spicer; seeing the large, almost flat bit of metal hurtling towards him and knowing that in another second, Jack would be personally acquainted with the concept of the guillotine.

Thankfully, Chase had not paused even a moment more to question the motives of his actions and had simply teleported to Jack's side, hauling him out of the sharp metal's trajectory. Even with Chase's superhuman speed, Jack still ended up nicked by the thing and had a scar the length of his pinky to prove it.

Jack shivered with loss as his overlord took back his hand. One of his own took its place and he thoughtfully traced the line it made with his thumb. "Y'know," he said slowly, unknowingly echoing Chase's thoughts, "if you hadn't been there, I'd have probably lost my head that day. Did I ever say thanks?"

"You did," Chase assured him. "When I had that glove pressed against your neck to slow the bleeding and I told you that you weren't going to die— you thanked me then."

Jack didn't really remember much of that part. From the moment he'd felt the sharp slash of pain in such a typically fatal area until the time he somehow found himself at home with his medbot telling him it was too shallow to even need stitches, Jack's brain had been saturated with pure shock. The time in between that wasn't outright lost was fuzzy at best.

"I don't remember saying it," he confessed, "so thanks again for saving me." Realizing what he'd just said, Jack paused and looked at Chase. "I never asked why you did that. We weren't…close then, so…why did you?"

Of course, this was a question Chase was well-prepared to take. After all, he'd asked it of himself many times and he had eventually come up with a satisfactory answer.

"As I told you that day, I didn't want you to be dead," he explained. "As much as your failures and your oddities and your obsession with me grated at times…you were still too interesting."

Jack was clearly confused. "Interesting?"

Chase nodded. "Your coloring, your unique personal quirks, your ability with machines… In short, you were and are a source of fascination for me and I could see your potential for evil given time and training. I had no designs on you at that time as my consort or my apprentice, but I knew that I didn't want you gone from the world just then."

Trying and failing to suppress a smile, Jack did his best to steer the conversation in a less sappy direction. "Well, that makes sense, I guess. I am pretty awesome—it'd be weird if you weren't into me even a little bit."

Chase shook his head. "'Awesome' and modest," he mused teasingly. "How could I not fall madly in love with you?"

Jack snickered at his own expense, even as he threw the bloodied silk at his master's head.

Naturally, Chase caught it without trouble and inspected the ruined glove against its pristine successor, dark green contrasted with an unpleasantly brownish-green.

"Actually," he said at length, "I believe that day did play a role in our relationship."

"Really? How so?"

"What you said after you thanked me," Chase clarified. "Or do you not remember that, either?"

"…uh. No, I don't. Why?" Jack asked cautiously. "What'd I say?"

"That was the first time you told me you loved me."

Another thing Chase found nearly impossible to forget about that day. Really, how could he? He had been flooded with a strange relief he hadn't yet understood that no vital arteries of Spicer's had been struck and Jack had chosen that moment to lean on his idol and babble on and on of his gratitude.

Most of it had been incoherent from the teen's shock, but Chase very distinctly heard, "Oh my god, I thought I was gonna die, thank you, I love you so much," amongst the rest of the rapid-fire nonsense.

At this new information, however, Jack made a face, feeling every bit of retroactive embarrassment for admitting such a thing before it had become acceptable to do so—and not even realizing he'd done it.

Out loud, he just said, "Oh. How exactly did that change anything? I was in love with you before that and you can't tell me I was too subtle about it."

Chase snorted. "No, the last thing you are is subtle, but up until then, you'd never said the words."

"So?"

"So, how was I to know that your feelings went beyond an obsession or a mere crush?" the dragonlord challenged. "Either would've fit with your behavior at that time, but when you said it…"

"What," Jack asked, tone already sarcastic, "it changed everything? Me saying that I loved you made you decide that I was hot sex on toast and that we should totally hook up?"

Chase echoed his consort's disdain for such a simplistic, fairy tale concept with a scoff. "Hardly. But it did give me things to consider."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that if you were genuinely in love with me, I could make use of you in some way."

"…tell me you weren't planning on making me a booty-call," Jack pled.

Not having expected quite that term to come from his consort's mouth, Chase was unable to hold back a bark of laughter. "There are many uses for a young man who loves you, Jack," he explained, "not all of them sexual. For me to determine which of those uses was best for you specifically, I had to take a much closer look at you than I had in our prior interactions."

"And…you liked what you saw?" the goth guessed.

"Of course," said Chase. "You're a surprisingly likable individual, Spicer: no matter how annoying you get, it's difficult to completely hate you. What I was getting at, though, is the fact that the things I deemed to be flaws in you weren't as irredeemable as I'd thought upon closer inspection."

For a long time in their acquaintance, Chase had simply dismissed Spicer as unworthy of his attention. As a consequence, he had never looked beyond the veneer of the young man's exterior; his actions.As he quickly found out, Jack was not a book to be judged only by his cover.

Spicer's skill in martial arts (or any form of combat) had been downright dismal and Chase had initially sneered to see he was making no effort to improve himself in that area.

He hadn't known then just how mind-bogglingly delicate Jack's albino body could be, turning any attempt at training into a terribly painful and exceedingly long process that the average teacher didn't have the skill or patience to handle.

Neither had Chase realized that Jack's frequent betrayal of his allies was an act born out of his experience. Jack had been essentially taught that the proper way to end a partnership was with a double-cross and his teachers had been everyone in his life he had made the mistake of trusting: the monks, Wuya, Katnappé, and a succession of other villains before Chase had even arrived on the scene all regularly took advantage of Spicer. His 'genius' title was not for nothing, though, and Jack had learned the lesson quickly.

Really, most of Spicer's worst traits were a product of his environment. Even the loud projections of his own greatness and nonexistent accomplishments that Chase had found so very irritating had a root in the actions of others.

No one, whether Xiaolin or Heylin, had any qualms with verbally criticizing Jack and putting him down right to his face and despite the size of it, Jack's ego was fragile. He needed some kind of boost to keep his self-esteem from being outright crushed and his bragging turned out to do the trick perfectly.

Amusingly enough, it was precisely Jack's bragging and undeserved smugness that made so many people want to wipe the grin off his face and in response, Jack would only get more and more arrogant—a vicious circle if ever there was one.

"When I removed my own prejudices from the equation," Chase declared aloud, "I realized that you weren't the sniveling worm destined for eternal failure that I'd pegged you for. You could be taught. You could change. You could grow." He offered Jack a grin. "Looking at you now, I see I was absolutely right to conclude that."

Jack knew as well as Chase did that he had definitely blossomed under his master's tutelage, as a fighter and as a villain. "Well, once you started teaching me, you didn't give up on me," he shrugged, almost modest for once, "no matter how many times I cried or needed to take a break."

"I am nothing if not patient," agreed Chase, "though if anyone can try me in that area, it is you."

"Hey, low blow!" Jack chuckled. "I got better at not doing that!"

Chase feigned surprised, intent on teasing his lover more. "Did you? When was this? I hadn't noticed."

Jack nodded to the glove the warlord still held in his hand. "I started the same day you stopped brushing me off."

At that statement, something like surprise came over Chase's face, to which Jack wondered, "Did you really not notice? I toned down the stalking a lot after that."

Chase shook his head. "It did not escape me that you visited a bit less frequently and didn't unnerve me quite as much with your affections, but you seem to be speaking of something else."

Jack shrugged. "I told you, when I thought you hated me the…way that I tried to show you that I loved you was…well, pretty selfish. I didn't really stop to think about how the stuff I did affected you, I just did what I wanted to do. Partly because I never thought we would go anywhere."

"But?" Chase prompted.

"But," continued Jack, "that day…you saved my life. Not only that, you outright told me that you didn't want me to be dead. I mean, obviously, it wasn't quite the same as screaming your eternal love for me from the rooftops, but it meant that you didn't hate me as much as I thought you did and that if I played my cards right, I might have the slightest shot in hell at making that go somewhere."

Intrigued, Chase eyed his consort consideringly. "You changed your tactics. How?"

Jack shot him a mischievous little smile. "How else do you seduce an overlord? I changed my focus: less me-centric, more you-centric." Sensing that Chase could do with a little more explanation than that, he posed, "Alright, so you know I'm a really hands-on kind of guy, right?"

"Hard to miss that," said Chase. "You're possibly the most tactile person I've ever met. Any more 'hands-on' and I'd need to carry around a crowbar just to pry you off of me."

"But I'm not as bad with that as I used to be."

Chase agreed. "No, definitely not. It's been years at least since I last had to actually physically remove you from me." He paused, then turned to look at Jack. "That is what you meant? You made an effort to stop touching me overly much?"

"That's part of it," Jack said. "I show a lot of my…affection for you, I guess, by touching you—because that's what I want to do every time I see you. But when I paid a little more attention to you, I realized that you don't really like to be touched so much, so I tried to back off a little."

Chase allowed his hand to settle just above his consort's shoulder blades, idly stroking his fingers up and down along his spine. "Don't take it personally, Jack," he said, his voice low. "That rule does not apply specifically to you. I simply don't enjoy physical contact. For the most part, if I am open to being touched, I will initiate the touching."

Jack shivered as, to punctuate his point, Chase's hand strayed particularly low on his back, dipping just below the waistband of his black jeans and teasingly going no further.

In response, Jack scooted over a little closer to Chase, pressing himself up against the older man's side and boldly kissing him on the mouth. Chase himself gave no protest to the action and in fact, shifted his hand to Jack's hip in order to drag him even closer.

Eventually, Jack pulled away. "It took me awhile to figure that part out, but I think I've pretty much got the hang of it now."

"Yes, I would say so," his master concurred, lowering Jack to the stone floor and leaning over him. The long, dark curtain of Chase's hair blocked out mostly everything else in the room, quite assuring that the goth's only focus was him. "I am very comfortable with the way you touch me, Jack…"

Jack felt his skin prickling, not certain if it was from the cold of the floor against his back or the smoky heat in the voice of the man looming over him. "I'm pretty okay with how you touch me, too."

Chase smiled down at him, a devilishly handsome thing that had once meant very bad things for Jack. More recently, however, it had taken on the exact opposite meaning.

Jack made a quiet noise of pleasure as Chase lowered his head to his lover's sensitive throat, pressing his lips to the old scar. He happily relaxed and enjoyed the mouthing and nuzzling for as long as Chase chose to keep it up.

"I seem to recall," the warlord abruptly murmured against his collarbone, "that speaking with you ceased to give me headaches. Was that part of your strategy to woo me, as well?"

It took Jack a moment to answer, especially as he noticed that one of Chase's hands was definitely sliding up beneath his shirt. "Uh…yeah, kind of… I like talking to you about…well, um. Everything. But you're a really pragmatic kind of guy."

"I don't like wasting my time," Chase purred, stroking his gloved fingers over Jack's ticklish ribs just to watch him jump. The squeak that came out of him was just a bonus.

"Well, yeah," Jack agreed, letting his hands find purchase on Chase's powerful hips, just beneath the armor skirting. "You're…you're no-nonsense, so I stopped talking about it to you. You didn't act so pissed off with me once I started talking to you about…y'know, important stuff."

Chase had to hold himself back from laughing. Truly, Jack was fantastic for his ego: a few sensual touches here and there and the youth's frighteningly genius brain was already starting to short out.

Instead of laughing, he shifted to properly straddle Jack's hips and continued to trace idle patterns across his chest and stomach with his free hand while he kept the other on the floor to hold himself above his lover.

"I enjoy our conversations much more now that they have substance," he said. "It reminds me what a brilliant young man I have accepted as mine."

Jack flushed such a pretty pink color at the compliment that Chase simply had to touch him.

Chase's gloved hand was cool upon his warm cheek and Jack stared up at him, absolutely mesmerized for a moment.

Sometimes, it still baffled him that this amazing, powerful, beautiful man was his lover; had willingly chosen him to touch and protect and keep.

He was so glad he hadn't fucked this up before it even started. So, so glad he had backed off before it was too late.

Chase had apparently realized he was distracted for the fingers on his cheek became a hand cupping his jaw.

"What are you thinking of, Spicer?" Chase wondered.

Jack told him. "I was just…thinking how lucky I am to have this with you. How lucky I am that you decided to really lookat me…and that I didn't drive you away before you did."

Chase looked at him curiously. "Drive me away?"

Jack nodded. "With all of the…the stuff I used to do. I was so pushy about trying to get you to… I mean, I loved you and I wanted to hear it back so desperately, but you…you hate being pushed." An underlying note of fear that smacked of having survived a near miss entered Jack's tone. "If I didn't back off to let you decide whether you wanted anything between us to happen…"

Chase cut him off with a kiss. "I did decide, Spicer," he rumbled upon pulling back, fixing Jack with a stern look. "You are my consort—mine.That speaks well enough of my decision, doesn't it?"

This seemed to reassure Jack some. "But…doesn't it freak you out a little? To think about how easily none of this could have happened? If you just went on thinking I was an annoying pest or if I kept being selfish, we would've stayed that way."

"I don't like wasting my time," Chase said again. "'What If's are just that when compared to reality: wastes of time. And in reality, I have an attractive young man under me begging to be named my xin ái and taken to bed…"

Jack's relief may very well have been strong enough to turn his bones to jelly on the spot, but he managed a glance over and up at his bed. As he'd suspected, the tertiary pile of junk from his closet was still taking up half of the mattress (the half Chase had not been occupying).

"It looks like my bed's a little crowded right now," he said sheepishly. "I guess I could finish with the closet first…"

Chase, however, had no intention of being derailed and shook his head. "Your bed is not the only one in the palace, Jack, and your closet can wait." His smirk was downright playful. "After all, you have eternity to get around to it…"

For that reminder, Jack couldn't help but lean up and gleefully kiss his everlord again, content to leave the past in the past and live in what was a particularly satisfying present.

Cherry-

"…oh, fuck off."

"Don't swear at me, Jack, I just asked you a question!"

"You're fifteen," Jack snapped, "you can handle the word, 'fuck.' As in, fucking hell, Megan, you're fifteen, not ten!"

Megan rolled her eyes. "You act like I just told you I wanted to play Princesses and Unicorns with you."

"Unicorns are cool, at least!" her cousin exclaimed, indignant. "You're asking to put make-upon me!"

"Suyin has a date tomorrow and she wants me to help her get ready," Megan explained. "I've never done someone else's make-up before!"

"All the more reason for me to say no!" Jack declared. "You want to girlify me and it'll look stupid."

"Jack," she all but whined, "please! I never ask you for anything!"

"What? Yes, you do!"

"Well, not that often! Come on, Jack," said Megan, "Suyin is really pale and all of my other friends are too dark to practice on. I need you!"

Jack made a noise somewhere in between a groan and a growl. "Megan…have you ever heard of the concept of 'male pride'?"

Megan blinked. "Sure I have. What's that got to do with you?"

Jack flinched and covered his face with his palm. "Okay, comments like that? Not helping your case!"

"Alright, alright, alright, I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I really do need your help. Just…let me do this and I won't ask you for anything for a whole month. I won't make it really girly if that's your problem. I just need to see if I can do it…"

Jack looked at her and sighed, feeling a crashing wave of regret for all the times he'd taught Megan the various arts of pity and puppy-dog eyes in the hopes that she would use them for evil. On some level, she had—this was pretty evil.

"I must be crazy," he muttered under his breath.

Megan heard him and perked immediately. "Really, Jack? You'll do it?" She tackled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly in gratitude. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Jack's big, calloused hands gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her back. Megan blinked up at him, surprised by the suddenly stern look he was giving her.

"No lipstick," Jack began firmly, "no mascara, and no matter what, you are not touching my hair."

Megan nodded.

The sternness dissolved from Jack's expression at her assent, melting back into the more familiar look of surrender. "Alright, fine. We'll do it in my bathroom so I can wash it off when you're done. Get your stuff."

Megan promptly grabbed her make-up bag and scurried after Jack, who was already trudging out of the room like a man to the firing squad.

She followed him upstairs and to his room, which was thankfully not as gross as her expectations for a boy's room. Some of his stuff was a little gothy and it was kind of messy, but Jack was into that kind of thing and really, she was the last one to talk about messy rooms.

At the very least, she was relieved not to have to sidestep any moist socks on the floor on the way to the room's adjoining bathroom.

The bathroom itself was done in monochrome. The floor tiles were of a typical checkerboard pattern while most of the walls were pure white save for one black accent wall where the large sink and mirror were set up. On the opposite end of the room were the toilet, a trash bin, and a laundry hamper while the far wall played host to a large shower with a frosted glass door.

Megan had to stop herself from admitting jealously out loud. She would love to get ready for the day in a clean, spacious, private bathroom like this instead of the one she shared with her parents. She already knew what Jack would say if she mentioned it, though, because he'd said it several times before: a casual and absolutely pitiless, "Maybe Aunt Eva should have married a rich bastard like my mom did."

…to which she would inevitably reply that her mother wasn't a gold-digger like Auntie Sylvia, which always set Jack off and Megan had yet to get any of her make-up on him, so that was right out.

Instead, she went the route of a backhanded compliment. "This is your bathroom, Jack?" she asked. "It's practically classy."

Jack snorted and wandered over to the mirror that doubled as a cabinet, fishing around inside. "I'm plenty classy," he said as he looked for something. "It just doesn't come up much."

"Eating potato chips on the couch and scratching your butt don't leave much room for the expression of class, no," she agreed.

Jack paused his search to glare at her. "I told you, I only do that on Saturday!"

"For the Saturday morning cartoons?"

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed, sounding exasperated as he decisively resumed rummaging around in the cabinet.

Deciding her cousin wouldn't take much more pushing before calling the whole thing off, Megan wisely chose to stop teasing him. "So, what are you looking for anyway?"

"Remover," said Jack, looking almost bewildered as he stared at the myriad of things in his mirror cabinet. "I need it to get my eyeliner off, but I can't find it."

"Can't you just wash it off?" Megan wondered, glancing at the thick black hook beneath Jack's eye.

"No, it's waterproof," he explained. "Like…really waterproof. I'd probably get my skin off first just using the sink."

"Why not switch to something easier to get off?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't want it off, that was the problem. It kept running and getting all messed up—"

"Too much crying?" she couldn't resist asking.

"—because it was too water soluble," Jack finished with another glare at her, this one a warning. Normally, Megan didn't take such glares seriously when they came from Jack, but for some reason, she felt compelled to back down. "Anyway, if you want to put stuff on my face, I figured you'd want a blank canvas first."

"That would be helpful." Megan watched as Jack looked through the cabinet one more time, clearly aggravated that the desired item wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Check the drawers," she suggested, pointing at the two rows of drawers beneath the sink.

Jack frowned. "I don't keep it there."

"Check anyway, it can't hurt."

Jack did so, grumbling as he pulled open the very top drawer. "It's not gonna be—…" Jack scowled deeply at a small spray bottle he pulled out from the miscellany. "What the fuck?" he demanded. "I never put it here!"

"Maybe you have bathroom gnomes," his cousin proposed.

The look Jack shot her was downright murderous.

"Kidding!" said Megan, hands raised in a gesture of harmlessness. "Just kidding. I misplace stuff in the bathroom all the time. I think my hair dryer can teleport or something."

Jack paused, looking as though he were trying to remember something. "When was the last time I was over at your house?" he eventually asked.

Megan stared at him. "What does that have to do with—"

"When?" Jack insisted.

"Uh, like, four years ago, I think. Why?"

"Oh, well, I didn't figure out how to build stuff that teleports even short distances until two years ago," he clarified, spritzing a bit of remover onto a tissue and wiping beneath his right eye. "I just wanted to know if I did it or not."

Megan watched him switch to the left eye and smoothly wipe away all trace of the curved mark in one go, leaving no stains or smudges and only clean white skin behind.

"So, you're capable of building teleporting hair dryers?" she asked.

"If I wanted to, yeah."

"You're a genius, Jack," she deadpanned, "you must use your amazing powers for good."

Jack laughed. "No chance," he said. "Evil all the way!"

"Right, evil," said Megan, unzipping her make-up bag and setting it on the back of the toilet. "How's that whole, 'take over the world' thing going for you, Jackie?"

"That's classified," Jack told her. "I've got some things in the works, but a leak might compromise me so that's all I can tell you."

Shaking her head, the girl put down the toilet seat and gestured that Jack should come over and sit. "Well, if you want to waste your time with all that, I guess that's your business," she decided.

"Damn right it is," Jack agreed, having a seat and turning his head to eye the menacing bag behind him. "I meant what I said, Megan," he reminded. "If you put lipstick on me…"

"I won't!" Megan assured him. "No lipstick, no mascara, and leave your hair alone. I heard you."

To that, Jack said nothing, watching his cousin sort through her supplies.

Eventually, Megan removed a few identical rectangular compacts. Seeing her open one, Jack realized that they were all probably different shades of blush.

"This has gotta be the hardest thing," Megan mused aloud, closing one and opening another. "You're so white and I have to find a color that won't look ridiculous on your cheeks."

"If you've got a problem with it, get another guinea pig," Jack sniped.

"No, I told you, Suyin's pale, too, so I need that. I mean, she's not as pale as you, obviously—she's like, normal pale."

Jack stared. "What does that make me, weird pale?"

Megan gave him a look. "Jack…you're an albino. That's not normal pale and you know it."

Jack frowned, but knew he couldn't refute that. He watched Megan look at a few more shades of blush, discarding all the dark and medium colors and even a few lighter ones before finally settling on a very faint hue of pinkish peach.

"This one should probably work alright," she decided, swirling a brush around over the powder and tapping it lightly to shake off the excess. "Tell me if I'm hurting you or something, by the way. I am trying to practice my method here."

"Trust me, I'll be the first to tell you if you're doing it wrong," said Jack before relaxing his face of any expression and closing his eyes.

In spite of her general abrasiveness (to Jack, anyway), Megan proved to be very gentle in her application of the blush. She used smooth, light strokes across his cheekbones to spread the color evenly without irritating his sensitive skin. When she wanted him to move his head, she wouldn't just grab his face and move it like he had seen some make-up artists do, either. Instead, she touched his chin to indicate that he should move and then allowed him to do it on his own.

What Jack appreciated perhaps most of all, though, was that she wasn't talking anymore. Maybe she realized that if she kept antagonizing her dear cousin, he would scowl or try to yell at her and mess up her process. Whatever the reason, Jack was glad for the silence that made this whole situation far more bearable.

After a few minutes, Megan stopped and put the brush down. Jack opened his eyes and looked over at her. "Well?"

Megan made a noise of consideration. "It's not bad," she said after another moment of inspection. "I think it might look better on you if I'd had a lighter shade, but it looks fine as is. This should be perfect for Suyin."

"So, do I get to see it, or are you gonna make me wait for a big reveal at the end movie-makeover style?" Jack wondered.

Busying herself with putting away the blush and digging around for the next item, the girl idly plucked a small mirror out of her bag and handed it over. "Knock yourself out."

Jack took the mirror, bracing himself to somehow already look like a failed Monty Python cross-dressing skit. When he worked up the courage to look at his reflection, however, he relaxed.

"Oh," he said out loud. "Okay, I guess it's not horrible."

And horrible it wasn't. Yes, there was an unnatural bit of color on his cheeks, but it didn't look unnatural. The shade Megan had picked wasn't too outrageous in comparison to his (admittedly beyond fair) skin tone and she had applied it in such a way that it might not even be taken for make-up on him.

A stranger could probably look at him and think he was just a little flushed from some kind of physical activity or something.

"You're good at doing blush, I'll give you that, Meg," he declared. "Hopefully, you don't suck at the other stuff."

"Hopefully, I won't," she said with a pointed look, "and don't call me 'Meg,' Jackie."

"Yeah, yeah," shrugged Jack. "What are you gonna put on me now?"

Megan held up a black stick. "Eyeliner. Much as I hate to say it, you've got the right idea: that dark around your eyes makes them pop, the darker the better to stand out against the rest of your face."

"…Holy god, was that a compliment?"

"Not really," said Megan. "The idea is right, but your execution is way off. You wear way too much and I don't just mean the weird hook-thing you do."

"And the world has righted itself," Jack announced, looking less than thrilled. "Okay, Eyeliner Queen, what should I be doing?"

Megan uncapped the eyeliner, screwing it up to a length she found satisfactory. "Less is more. You should just do a thin outline and leave it at that. Anymore and it gets garish."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, alright. I'll do that the next time I'm going for 'pretty.' As it is, I want to look a little garish, or did you forget that I'm evil?"

She rolled her eyes. "So, being evil means you have to wear brightly colored goggles and a tattered trench coat and draw lines all over your face?"

"In my case, yes!" Jack set the mirror aside, no longer needing it. "I need some kind of intimidation factor. You know I don't have a whole lot going for me naturally, so I have to at least look a little creepy. Nobody good would wear any of that stuff—and besides, I like it, so there."

Megan stared at him. "Which one of us is the older cousin again?"

"Oh, shut up," Jack demanded. "Just do my eyeliner already."

Placing her hand on Jack's chin to hold his head still, Megan waited until Jack closed his eyes and began doing just that. She was especially slow and careful with her movements here, knowing how delicate the eyes and the surrounding skin could be.

Jack did his best to keep from moving, but relaxing was another thing entirely because for this part, Megan decided to talk.

"So, what's going on with you lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, what have you been doing the past couple of days or weeks or whatever?"

"I told you," he repeated, "my plans are classified. I can't tell you anything."

"Not plans," Megan clarified, sounding exasperated. "Your personal life! You do have one, don't you?"

Jack wanted to frown, but managed to refrain. "Yeah, I have a personal life!" he said.

"Then what's going on it?"

"I dunno," Jack grumbled, "that's a stupid question. Be more specific."

"Fine," said Megan. "Are you dating anyone?"

Jack nearly jumped. "What?"

"Dating," Megan repeated purposely slow. "Seeing somebody? You know, like another person that you go out with?"

"I know what dating is," Jack snapped.

"Okay, so are you doing it? You're eighteen, you've gotta be dating somebody by now."

"Nineteen," he corrected her, "and of course, I'm dating!"

"Really?" asked Megan. "What's her name?"

Jack hesitated. "I'm…not at liberty to say."

"Uh-huh." Even with his eyes closed, Jack could hear the dubious, perhaps outright disbelieving tone Megan had adopted.

"I am seeing someone," he insisted. "I'm not just making it up!"

"Alright, then where'd you meet?"

"At a Showdown."

Megan frowned in distaste. "It's not that ghost chick that used to follow you around all the time, is it?"

"Wuya?" Jack shuddered. "Hell no."

"That Asian girl you had a huge crush on?"

"I did not have a huge crush on Kimiko," Jack said firmly, "and even I did, it's still not her."

"Then, who is it?" she wondered.

"It doesn't matter, you haven't met, anyway."

Megan pouted. "Fine, don't tell me her name, but you have to tell me something."

"Why?"

"I wanna know!" the girl said as if it were obvious. "Tell me about her or what she looks like or where you took her on a date; something!"

"I don't want to. You're being nosy. I don't bug you about your love life!" Jack abruptly felt one of Megan's bare thumbs on his eyelid, stroking outward. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm smearing the liner on the top a little. It gives it a smoky look and it's better than doing eye shadow," she explained. "Why are you being so impossible about details? Is your girlfriend ugly or something? Does she embarrass you?"

"No, that's not…! I mean…no, it's not that. Can't I just not feel comfortable about discussing my sex life with my fifteen-year-old cousin?"

"Oh, you have a sex life?" Megan grinned, pulling back to inspect her handiwork. "That's interesting."

Jack, realizing his mistake, wanted nothing more than to bury his face in his hands. Since he couldn't do that, he opened his eyes and looked at Megan. "Are you done with the eyeliner?" he demanded, staunchly refusing to acknowledge his earlier slip.

Megan apparently decided to let it go, for she only giggled and handed Jack the mirror again.

More than glad for the distraction, Jack once again eyed his reflection and once again, his cousin had done a decent job of things. She really did have a point about less being more as far as the 'attractive' side of things went. Even the thin outline on the bottom proved enough to make his eyes stand out and the top lids didn't look overly girly with the smear of black on them.

With his eyes and the blush, Jack was almost tempted to call himself pretty (man-pretty, naturally, not girl-pretty).

"Okay, great," he announced, "you passed cheek and eye make-up. Now can I take this off, already?"

"I'm not done with you yet, Jack!" 'tsk'ed Megan. "There's still one more thing I need to make sure I can do."

Jack stared at her warily. "And what's that?"

Megan grabbed her bag and began to rummage around in it again. "Lip make-up, of course."

Jack scowled at her. "Goddammit, Megan, I said no lipstick!"

"Oh, relax," she said, waving him off as she pulled out a long tube. "It's lip-gloss.It's totally clear, see?"

Jack did look and saw that the tube was see-through, but still remained less than enthused. "It doesn't have any shimmer or whatever in it, does it?"

"Nope," Megan assured, twisting open the lip-gloss. She grinned at the mildly surprised expression that flit across Jack's face at the powerful scent that suddenly filled the bathroom. "Just perfectly normal cherry-flavored lip-gloss. You could even lick it off when you're done wearing it."

It took another minute or so, but Jack conceded. "Fine," he said, "just do it and get it over with."

"Purse your lips for me," Megan requested, holding out the lip brush.

Completely putting it out of his mind that he was essentially making a kissy face at his cousin, Jack did so and felt the wet swipe of the brush coating his lips with the glossy substance.

"Spread it around a little to make sure it's even."

And Jack did that, too, pressing his lips together to get the proper distribution of gloss. As soon as he finished, he gave Megan a look. "There, are you done now?"

Megan took her time answering, looking closely at the finished product of her work. "Yeah," she said at length, "I think we're good here. Thanks a lot, Jack, this'll really help me with Suyin tomorrow."

"Sure, yeah, whatever." Jack stood, two long-legged strides taking him to the opposite end of the bathroom where the sink stood. "All I care about is that I can take this off."

Or he would have been able to had an urgent beeping noise not sounded from his pocket at the same time he reached for the sink.

Megan watched with interest as Jack completely stopped what he was doing and grabbed his phone from his pocket.

"Shit," he cursed after one look at the screen, "I have to go."

"Go where?" Megan asked.

"Don't worry about it," Jack said, shoving his phone back in his pocket and looking wistfully at the sink. "I don't even have time to wash this crap off. Damn."

Megan followed after him when he abruptly walked out of the bathroom to retrieve his helipack from his bed. "Wait," she said, "you're really leaving? What do I do while you're gone?"

"Wait for me to get back? Go home?" Jack guessed, opening his window and hopping onto the sill. "Honestly, I don't care what you do as long as you stay out of my lab."

"Are you going to see your girlfriend?"

Jack paused at that and managed a smirk at Megan. "Yeah, I am," he said, and with that, he took off into the sky for parts unknown.

In reality, Jack wasn't headed for the unknown. His destination was nowhere—the Land of Nowhere, to be precise.

It was extremely rare that Chase actually went out of his way to call for him. Usually, whatever the dragonlord wanted could wait until Jack came on his own because Jack's visits were frequent, every other day if not daily.

That Chase was requesting him,even in light of that might've had something to do with Jack's haste.

In very little time since he'd received the summons, Jack touched down upon the ledge outside the mountain stronghold, pausing only long enough for the door to swing open before quickly heading inside.

As expected, Jack did not have to wait long before Chase appeared. Descending down the line of marble steps from the dais, the overlord looked just as wickedly gorgeous as ever, radiating his usual elegant grace.

"Spicer," he greeted his apprentice smoothly. "It didn't take you long to get here."

Jack shrugged. "You called me," he said by way of explanation. "What'd you need?"

Pleased by the answer, Chase smirked. "I require nothing in particular. Your absence today simply seemed rather pronounced, though if I'd been timing you, I imagine you'd have set a record."

Jack failed to hide his smile. "What can I say? You're great motivation."

"That I am," Chase agreed, reaching the bottom of the stairs and coming to stand before the goth.

Jack could've probably pinpointed the exact moment Chase noticed his little makeover. It was the moment that those gold, reptilian eyes truly settled on him for the first time since Jack had entered, filling with a look of bemusement. Much more obvious was the head-tilt that accompanied the look and the curious-sounding, "Spicer…?"

Physically drooping, Jack sighed. "Right, the make-up," he muttered. "It's…my cousin, she…kind of made me—"

"You look ravishing."

"I know, I know, I plan to wash if off as soon as—…did you say, 'ravishing'?"

"I did," Chase confirmed, taking another step closer to Jack and eyeing his face with interest. "I've never seen you wear cosmetics before."

"But…I wear my eyeliner all the time," Jack protested.

Chase shook his head. "That is decoration," he dismissed. "This is art."

Jack resisted the temptation to squeak in a very unmanly fashion when one of Chase's hands settled on his chin, allowing him to peer more closely at the make-up. Instead, he declared, "Well…I'm not going to be wearing this all the time."

Of course, he knew full well that if Chase asked it of him, he would do it.

Thankfully, he didn't. "No, of course not," he agreed with Jack's assertion. "It would be downright impractical to doll yourself up like this every day." He paused. "Although you do look excellent dolled up."

"You really… Do you really like it that much?" Jack couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, I do," said Chase. "The purpose of cosmetics is to accentuate one's natural beauty and you are definitely…accentuated today."

"But…I'm wearing blush," he said weakly.

Chase raised an eyebrow at him. "And? It was hardly all that long ago that men wore rouge as well as women. Done correctly, it's a look I happen to find attractive."

Jack frowned. "What about the eyeliner? Do…do you like it more than what I usually do?"

"More? Yes," his overlord answered. "What you're wearing now is more…tasteful than your usual. At the very least, it brings out your eyes better, though I do understand the need for your typical war-paint."

Feeling strange at losing an argument and being complimented at the same time, Jack just barely managed to ask, "And the lip-gloss?"

Chase stared at him for only a moment, then leaned in to kiss him and before Jack could even react, he pulled away again.

Mouth half-open to ask what that was for, the goth found himself abruptly unable to move at the sight of Chase's tongue sweeping out over his bottom lip in a downright seductive motion.

"Mmm…" Chase grinned at him. "I do like cherry."

Jack's mouth closed and even as a certain part of him became very excited at the prospect of what was about to happen, he knew in the back of his mind that it meant he'd have to bite a very unpleasant bullet.

Several hours later, lounging around on her cousin's couch, eating his potato chips, and watching Thursday night reality shows, Megan's phone suddenly vibrated on the coffee table.

Setting aside the bag of chips and picking it up, she saw that Jack had sent her a text.

Turns out my girlfriend digs guys who wear make-up, it said. This is the only time you're ever going to hear this from me, so save this for eternity if you ever want to hear it again: THANK YOU.

Megan laughed and then resumed watching TV.

A/N: And here's Magic Scent C, Part 1 of 2. I would've just posted it in one piece, but all four colors beginning with the letter C ended up going over FF's length limit. You see what I mean when I said I can't write drabbles anymore?

Cedar Chest - This one is sort of meta. It's the result of me taking in criticism about Chack as a pairing and wanting to write something that makes sense of the relationship as I see it and how the canon characters might believably get together. Hopefully, I succeeded in some capacity.

Cherry - I don't really have an excuse for this one other than wanting to give Jack a reason to get tarted up, and who better to force him to wear makeup than his bratty cousin? Additionally, did anyone catch Chase's code for 'I missed you'? XD

That's that for Part 1, Part 2 coming up soon!

Thanks for reading and hope you liked it! :D