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Whenever Namjoon told someone that he didn’t like winter, he was met by surprised, almost scandalised, gasps. What about Christmas lights, the songs, the snow?
Namjoon didn’t want to call himself bitter or a pessimist, but if he had to hear that Mariah Carey song one more time he will commit a crime. Snow looks pretty from the window, but nothing screams fun like having to drive through the streets at the crack of dawn when the roads haven’t been salted yet.
Namjoon always works during the Christmas season. Hearing this might make someone who doesn’t know him seem like some heartless, money-hungry man who didn’t believe in Christmas magic.
He doesn’t believe in Christmas magic, but as a vet, he knows that his presence is needed. Not for the money, his paycheck isn’t even that good, but for the dogs whose owners decide that feeding their dog just a bit of chocolate cake won’t do harm.
The one perk of Christmas is that he can legally close the clinic a bit earlier and no one will blame him for it. It’s December 24 and thus he can hide behind the Christmas spirit.
A sigh skids past his lips when he notices the walls of snow that have built up around the wheels of his car. “Fantastic,” he mutters under his breath, just standing still and staring. It occurs to him that they probably have a shovel, or at least some large tool, in the supply closet.
Namjoon could complain, groan, whine and pity himself as he walked back to the large building, key in his hand, but that won’t make the snow melt. He didn’t turn on any of the lights, knew every hallway and door like the back of his hand, and walked back to his car a few minutes later with a large shovel clutched between his hands.
By the end of it, he didn’t even feel cold anymore. He took off his gloves and shoved them into the pockets of his coat, and wiped droplets of sweat from his forehead with his bare hand. His warm breaths forms clouds as another exasperated sigh escape him. He has lost count by now.
The drive home happens smoothly and Namjoon thanks the heavens for it. The engine had started without trouble, the tires didn’t slip, and although traffic is always a bitch, it isn’t worse than usual despite the season. On the radio, he hears about traffic jams going on for miles and miles around the most urban areas. He had made a smart choice when he moved from Seoul to the southern area, closer to the coast.
The familiar blocks of concrete, steel and glass start appearing in Namjoon’s vision. It isn’t beautiful, simply the result of needing to home the masses of people.
He parks the car in the familiar parking spot by the tree. Barren now, dark branches covered in snow. Namjoon hopes nothing falls off because it’ll cover the car.
Once he steps out, he regrets not having his gloves on already. Below zero temperatures were not to be messed with and Namjoon should not have challenged the fight. His left hand dives into his pocket to retrieve the gloves and quickly covers his freezing fingers. Some damage has been done, but there’s worse he can prevent.
At least the lift has been fixed, he thinks as he walks past the first steps of the stairwell. Walking up all the way to the third floor would be the tip of the iceberg of today’s shittiness.
The electric voice of the elevator announces the floor and the metal doors slide open. Namjoon can already spot the front door. Almost there, just three large strides, two, now type in the code.
A distinct click and Namjoon can push the door open.
Warmth. Warmth is the first thing that greets him, wrapping itself around Namjoon’s frozen form, curling between his fingers. It’s home. The burdens of the day melt away from his shoulders like snow in the timid spring sun.
“Seok?” he calls, not very loudly because the flat isn’t that big at all. “I’m home!”
“Kitchen!” Seokjin called back.
Namjoon kicks off his shoes and sets them among the rest of the shoes below the coat rack, where he hangs his thick winter coat. He throws his gloves and scarf down without looking, that’s a problem for later.
The apartment has become a bit too small. They’re planning on moving, but not yet, it’s too cold, but they’ve bought a place larger than this. With more space for their books and their figurine collection. And hopefully more space for a Christmas tree, because the 8 inch plastic tree beside the couch is just too pathetic.
“I’m almost done cooking,” Seokjin said. “You’re home early.”
“Traffic wasn’t too bad,” Namjoon answered, walking into the kitchen.
He spots Seokjin bowed over the furnace. He’s still dressed in his formal work clothes, a grey suit with the slacks slightly crinkled at the bottom from a long day of work. Although Seokjin was already home and had started to make dinner, Namjoon knew he couldn’t have been home for long. His fingers were still slightly pink from the cold and the wet spots around his shoes betrayed that snow had been there.
“Smells nice,” he muttered and pressed a kiss to his temple. “What’re you making?”
“Just some soup. We need to do urgent grocery shopping.”
Namjoon groaned. “I don’t wanna think about responsibilities. There were so many idiots at work today. Feeding their dogs chocolate! Dogs!”
“Some people shouldn’t have pets,” Seokjin muttered. “Today an intern tried to tell me how to write the articles I’ve been writing ever since I first started. You know I’m normally calm and diplomatic, but this guy was testing me.”
“Must’ve taken guts going against his boss.”
“It’s why I let it slide. Christmas kindness.”
Namjoon chuckles softly and shakes his head. He doesn’t make further comments, they’re both tired. There will be plenty of time for talking later, he’s sure.
Dinner is soon served, and with that, the conversations about the day begin. Namjoon continues ranting about feeding chocolate to dogs and Seokjin decides to contribute to the theme by ranting about censorship in the media and when they run out of topics to talk about, they fall into a comfortable silence until the end of dinner.
Namjoon gets up first and grabs Seokjin’s bowl to place it on top of his. “You cooked, so I’ll clean. Go relax.”
“I’m gonna run a bath for us, okay? I think we both need some relaxation.”
Namjoon hums in a way that conveys neither agreement nor disagreement. He returns to the kitchen where he places the dirty soup bowls and spoons in the skin. Somewhere else in the apartment he can hear Seokjin rummage around, followed suit by the sound of water running. As tired as he is, Namjoon decides to do the dishes. At least that’s another task done. Less mess in the house and less mess in the apartment.
He places the last spoon back into the cutlery drawer when Seokjin calls his name. “Joon-ah! Come here! The tub’s almost full!"
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Namjoon calls back. “We’re both lanky men. There’s no way we’re going to fit!”
He opens the bathroom door to discover Seokjin already stripped of most of his clothing except for his underwear, his broad back only visible as he leans over the tub. Seokjin doesn’t even face him, he just continues talking like he knows Namjoon is already there. “Come feel the water. Hotter or colder?”
Namjoon tentatively dips his fingers into the water. “It’s perfect!”
“Of course it is. Then I’m gonna throw this bath bomb into the water. Sniff it.”
Seokjin holds the brightly coloured ball in front of Namjoon’s face, who gives it a sniff. It smells strongly of oranges, and although it isn’t disgusting, Namjoon still scrunches up his nose. “Didn’t Yoongi give us that last year?”
“Yep. I wonder if it still works. Only one way to find out.”
He drops it into the water without wasting another second. Immediately, it starts fizzing and the water around it begins to turn orange in colour. The scent also starts becoming stronger and within moments it’s the only thing Namjoon can smell.
“Hm, better than I thought. After me!”
Seokjin kicks off his underwear and steps into the bath like there isn’t a madly fizzing- thing, in the water.
Namjoon eyes the bath water. He briefly considers protesting due to the colour that can’t possibly be natural, before deciding that he doesn’t really care and a bath does sound nice. “Make space, I’m getting in.”
“You literally have no ass,” Seokjin chuckled, having the front seat view.
“Careful or I’ll sit on your dick,” Namjoon retorted. The warmth of the water seeped into his skin and soothed his aching bones. He rested his back against Seokjin’s broad chest, finally letting himself relax. His eyes fell shut as he released the breath he has been holding for what feels like the entire day.
“Someone had a hard day,” Seokjin muttered. His hands brushed past Namjoon’s sides and he wrapped his arms around his waist. Seokjin didn’t have gentle hands. His skin was calloused and rough from playing the guitar and the endless typing on his keyboard. “Let’s relax now, Namjoonie. Seokjinnie is here.”
“It’s okay.” Waves crashed against the edge of the bath tub when Namjoon lifted his hand out of the water to grab one of Seokjin’s, and intertwined their fingers. “It wasn’t like I was the only one with a rough day. Mister boss man who has to deal with the difficult interns. What would the world be without you?” He raised their hands to his lips and brushed his lips over the back of Seokjin’s hand before pressing gentle pecks to each of his knuckles.
“A mess, undoubtedly. Uglier. Journalism would suck too.”
“Humble as ever,” Namjoon said with a teasing lilt in his voice. “I love you, though.”
“I know. I love you too.” Seokjin wiggled his fingers free. Once succeeded, he lifted them to Namjoon’s hair and started untangling every messy, knotted strand. Seokjin had always been good at that. Untangling Namjoon.
Sometimes Seokjin tugs a little too hard, causing Namjoon to groan and contort his face in pain, but they had fallen into a steady balance without disruption. After having been together for so long, neither felt the need to keep the conversation buzzing.
Things hadn’t been supposed to be this way. Namjoon was supposed to become a heart surgeon and Seokjin was supposed to take over his father’s company. Both with wives, two kids and a dog. Somehow they ended up here, in their bath tub, with a 10 year anniversary coming closer and closer. College parties aren’t the most customary places for love to bloom, yet it happened and Namjoon hasn’t spoken to his father in seven years. Seokjin had told him that the people who choose to love you are more important than those who love you by obligation.
If Namjoon focused, he could feel Seokjin’s heartbeat against his back, faint vibrations travelling over his skin. “Hyung?”
A hum in response. Seokjin’s fingers didn’t falter.
“Have we paid the electricity bill yet?”
“Hmm, yeah. I did yesterday, forgot to tell you.”
Namjoon nodded. That’s another thing to cross off his mental to-do list. Seokjin’s hands continue running through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly over his scalp. Namjoon would never admit how much he enjoys affection like that. Unlike Seokjin, who doesn’t hesitate to kiss and embrace, who complains and teaches Namjoon how to cuddle properly. Seokjin loved openly, juxtaposing Namjoon.
And yet, loving Seokjin was easy. Namjoon had met many people in his life. Some merely in passing, others to their very core. As a vet, he saw people at their best, full of genuine love and concern for their pets, willing to do anything and pay any price.
Nothing and no one as beautiful as Seokjin. Namjoon hesitated to use the word beautiful for him. Seokjin had heard it far too many times in his lifetime. Anyone who looked at him long enough would be captivated by his beauty. Namjoon had become a victim too. Sometimes he still does double takes when Seokjin walks into the room, even when he has only just woken up, all grumpy and tired with his hair messy and his eyes full of sleepy.
Loving Seokjin was easy, but not because he’s such a treat for the eyes. They had lost count of the days they spent together. Now the years were still easy to count on two hands, but it won’t be long until that will be impossible. Looking at him now, he sees everything. The student Namjoon met in his early twenties, the anarchist, a complete chaos when he wanted to be, but still handed in every assignment perfectly on time and attended all family occasions. Namjoon can't pinpoint the exact moment he fell for him. Maybe it's that first time, when he saw him tipsy and dancing with his friends, free and having fun. Maybe it was that night they spent when Namjoon had a break down and he let himself crumble down in front of Seokjin, who held him and didn't leave his side until Namjoon had genuinely smiled again.
He is whole, as if he is made of just a little more than every other human. Namjoon didn't believe in magic, but if he did, he'd find it in Seokjin.
“Joon-ah,” Seokjin mutters, pulling Namjoon out of his mind with a simple kiss to his jaw. “You’re thinking so loudly. If you’re not careful, I will hear.”
“I was thinking about you,” Namjoon answered nonchalantly. He lifted his hands out of the water to check whether his fingertips had become wrinkled or not. “Look at my fingers. It’s the sign to get out of the bath.”
“Up, up then. And be careful of my precious jewels.”
“What precious jewels?” Namjoon chuckled and goes as far as pretending to slip just to tease Seokjin. He steps out of the tub unharmed and dripping. He grabs two towels from the rack, one for himself and one for Seokjin.
He can’t keep his gaze from lingering when Seokjin stands up. Droplets drip down his well defined chest and toned stomach. Somehow he still found the time to hit the gym once a week. Namjoon wouldn’t join him even if he had the time and energy for it.
Still wearing nothing but towels and water, they get ready for bed, first brushing their teeth followed by Seokjin’s extensive skincare routine. Ten whole steps, but Namjoon guesses it’s effective because he hasn’t spotted wrinkles tainted Seokjin’s skin yet.
“Maybe you should start one too,” Seokjin comments. “Soon your thinking frown will become permanent.”
Namjoon snorts. It’s impossible to take him seriously when he’s wearing a sheet mask. “You look like a ghost with those gaps around your eyes and mouth. Like you’re ready to eat my soul.”
“I am. A kiss will seal the deal. Come here!”
Namjoon laughs and ducks away from Seokjin’s grabby hands and puckered lips. Strong arms coil around his waist and pull him close against Seokjin’s warm chest.
“I got you,” Seokjin chuckled, his breath ghosting over Namjoon’s neck. “There’s no escape. Your soul is mine.”
Namjoon doesn’t even try to struggle and break free. He’s completely pliant as Seokjin grips his hips to turn him around, only giggling a bit when his imagination rouses in response to the sheet mask.
His mind falls silent when their lips meet. He still has to try his hardest to stifle his giggles because the wet sheetmask's pressing against his cheeks and he can't help but imagine what Seokjin looks like right now. Not even 10 seconds into the kiss does he have to pull away because he just can't stop laughing.
"Stop laughing!" Seokjin exclaims. "I can't move my face, but if I could, I would look so angry right now! You don't appreciate me!"
"Sorry, sorry. You just look so funny. I can't help it."
Seokjin huffs. "No presents for you tomorrow. You're so on the naughty list."
"Am I?" Namjoon wraps an arm around Seokjin's waist to pull him closer. "What about the breakfast I'm going to make for you tomorrow, hm? Eggs... bacon... maybe I'll even serve it to you... Give you the full royal treatment..."
That easily does the trick. "You're the worst," Seokjin muttered. "Why do I love you?"
"Because I'm tall, dark and handsome. And I pretend to like your jokes." They both laugh, knowing that isn't quite the real reason. Namjoon knows as well as he knows that trees shed their leaves in winter why Seokjin loves him. He knows like nothing else why he loves Seokjin, his person, his love.