Work Text:
one
Namjoon is sprawled on the couch trying to unpuzzle the jumbled stanza of lyrics he’d typed into his notes app the night before in a half-asleep haze when Jimin comes home, sauntering into the lounge with a smile on his face that’s equal parts mischief and mystery.
Namjoon is immediately suspicious.
Jimin had been out shopping; alone, but for some security staff and a manager, and he’s still bundled in his smart, black felt winter coat (which is at odds with the dorky, lopsided bobble hat he’s got on), flushed and dewy from the crisp, outside air. He’s cute - adorable, even - as he goes about sorting through his fancy, designer logo-emblazoned shopping bags with that same cryptic smile on his face, all the while singing Christmas songs under his breath, obviously up to something wicked.
“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon calls out, letting his phone drop to his stomach. “What are you grinning about?”
Jimin holds up a small, red paper bag. “I picked something up at the Christmas shop,” he says.
Namjoon pointedly looks around the heavily decorated room and raises his eyebrows at Jimin. They’ve gone all out this year, the halls of the building well and truly decked. In the lounge alone, there’s a tall Christmas tree that’s wreathed in string lights, the glow of which spills across the walls and surfaces in brilliant jade green, crimson and white. Glossy candy canes and shimmering baubles dangle from the spiky branches, glinting like stars when they catch the light. A mound of presents lies underneath the tree, growing pretty much by the day, the cutesy wrapping paper and ostentatious ribbon arrangements clashing together wonderfully. Garlands of silver bells and fake holly are pinned to the walls and there’s even fake snow dusting the table, which is topped with an elaborately iced Christmas cake Hoseok and Jimin had brought home a couple of days ago, smaller plates stacked with spiced Christmas cookies, and lit candles, the pine and cinnamon and fresh snow scents mingling together in a way that’s not wholly unpleasant.
“Do you really think we need any more, Jimin-ah?” Namjoon asks.
“Oh, we need this,” Jimin insists, holding up his gift bag and shooting Namjoon a wink. “This is vital.”
Namjoon is fully intrigued by now, and he watches from his comfy spot on the couch as Jimin heads to the open door and stands on his tiptoes to secure something to the frame. When it dawns on him what it is, Namjoon huffs a laugh out of his nose.
Because it’s mistletoe, and Namjoon should have guessed, really.
Jimin rocks back on his heels to admire his handiwork and then he shoots Namjoon a glance; it’s an ‘and what?’ kind of glance, a ‘what are you gonna do about it?’ kind of glance, his eyebrows disappearing beneath the brim of his woolly hat.
“Hey,” Namjoon says. “I’m not stopping you, am I? Do as you please.”
Jimin’s half-smirk widens into a dizzying starburst of a grin and with Namjoon’s blessing, he flounces off into the hallway, presumably to hang the other sprigs in every other doorway of the dorm.
Amused, Namjoon gets to his feet and walks across the room to inspect the mistletoe, bringing his fingertips up to brush against the shy, teardrop-shaped leaves and prodding one of the tiny white berries with his pinkie.
Namjoon knows Jimin’s game, knows exactly what he expects them to do whenever they bump into each other under the mistletoe, but Namjoon finds he’s not too flustered about it. It’s not like Namjoon’s adverse to kissing any of his bandmates. In fact, he has kissed a couple of them on occasion: Hoseok, when they were tipsy in Malta, then Yoongi one night when they were working late at the studio and bickering over something stupid. Everyone in the band knows about, and is comfortable with, each other’s sexuality, whether they’re gay or bi, or, in the case of Yoongi and Taehyung, more vaguely sexually fluid, shrugging off any particular identity marker. It’s fine. Easy breezy. Like most things in life, Namjoon tries not to overthink it lest it lead to ruin, and so far, that’s worked.
His phone alarm suddenly chirps, drawing him out of his thoughts. Drawing his hand away from the mistletoe, he slides his phone out of his pocket and silences it as he reads the note he’d assigned to the alarm: order dinner.
“Oh, right,” Namjoon mutters, pulling up a food delivery app. “It’s my turn today.”
He drifts back to the couch as he places the order, making sure to pick main meals and side dishes that suit everyone’s tastes, and then he gets back to work. The others file into the lounge one by one as their usual dinner time approaches, each of them looking up at the mistletoe on their way in and either blushing or laughing or shaking their head, depending on who it is.
Namjoon gets the alert that the food is nearly there and sends Jimin and Taehyung down to fetch it. Everyone else grabs plates and chopsticks and napkins and Yoongi arranges them while they each take a seat.
“Hey. Where’s Jeonggukkie?” Namjoon asks, noticing Jeongguk’s the only one who’s absent.
“He was taking a nap, I think,” Hoseok replies, unfolding his napkin.
“Jeongguk-ah!” Namjoon calls, not bothering to move from his seat and hoping his voice will carry. “Dinner!”
“Nice try,” Seokjin deadpans after a telling moment of silence. “Think you’ll have to go get him, Joon-ah.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes and stands, turning on his heel and heading for the door.
It’s just as he’s about to step through it and into the hallway, however, that he stumbles directly into Jeongguk.
Right under the mistletoe.
“Oh,” Namjoon says.
“‘Oh’?” Jeongguk repeats sleepily. “What’s ‘oh’?”
Namjoon flicks his gaze upwards; Jeongguk follows it.
“Oh.”
“Guess you guys have to kiss,” Yoongi calls out.
Namjoon glances at Yoongi over his shoulder. He’s smiling at them with a slightly smug expression on his face, cupping his chin in his palm.
Namjoon licks his lips and turns back to Jeongguk.
“We don’t have to-”
“No,” Jeongguk interrupts. “We can.”
“Yeah?” Namjoon checks.
Jeongguk nods and well, it’s fine, Namjoon thinks. Easy breezy. He shouldn’t overthink it.
Jeongguk’s eyes widen a fraction, his hands fluttering to his chest. He presses his lips together timidly and Namjoon can’t help but be entranced by them. They’re candy pink, a little dry and chapped from the harsh winter air.
And despite what he said about not being flustered, about not overthinking it, Namjoon’s heart starts to beat fast in his chest.
Jeongguk makes an impatient noise. “Hyung,” he whisper-whines. “Please.”
Namjoon blinks and then lurches forward inelegantly, slipping his arms round Jeongguk’s waist. Jeongguk half-gasps and Namjoon’s gaze immediately snaps up, up, up, and fuck. Jeongguk really is another level of adorable, all rumpled from his nap, looking gentle as hell in his sloppily-buttoned up Christmas-themed pyjamas, his hair sticking up in different directions and his eyes all lit-up. Ocean-wide.
Namjoon swallows.
When he finally leans down, Jeongguk’s breath is soft, so soft, against his lips. And then, the distance closes as if it were never there in the first place. They’re kissing, and the kiss is, honestly, a shy, quiet sort of thing, their lips tentatively brushing, barely even parting, but still-
Something inside Namjoon flares to life as it happens. It’s like a matchstick is tilting to light the candle wick of his heart.
And like that, Namjoon realises things are definitely, definitely not easy breezy. No, he thinks. They’re momentous. Monumental.
As they break away from one another, Hoseok, Seokjin and Yoongi begin to coo and cheer behind them.
Jeongguk lets loose a breathy, disbelieving kind of laugh that Namjoon returns with a bashful smile. Before either of them can say anything, Jimin and Taehyung pop up behind Jeongguk, their arms laden with plastic bags full of food cartons, and Jimin’s mouth quickly rounds into a scandalised ‘o’ when he sees where they’re standing.
“No way,” he hisses. “You guys kissed already? And I missed it?”
“Yes, you did,” Namjoon replies, not taking his eyes off of Jeongguk.
“What else did I miss while I was getting the stupid food?” Jimin huffs. “Nobody else kissed, did they?”
“You’ll never know, Jiminie,” Seokjin says teasingly. “Maybe we all kissed. Many times over.”
Jeongguk snorts and then grabs one of the bags from Taehyung and goes to join the others at the table.
“Oh, hey. You have to remove one of the berries,” Hoseok calls out to Namjoon. “That’s the rule, right, Jiminie?”
Jimin considers this and shrugs.”I guess it could be?”
Namjoon hums and then reaches up to pluck one of the berries from the sprig of mistletoe.
He returns to the table with it hiding in his fist like a tiny moon.
Catching Jeongguk’s eye, he knows it’s not the only thing he’s gained.
two
Yoongi is in his studio, hiding.
He’s been doing that a lot since the mistletoe was hung up.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to kiss any of his bandmates. On the contrary, he does, the urge so strong it’s overwhelming sometimes. It’s also not that he doesn’t think it’s all fun and games the way the others obviously do. He can see how it’s all in good humour, understands how a kiss is just a kiss and doesn’t have to be anything more than that.
It’s just that he promised himself long ago that he’d never be reckless with his own heart and well, Yoongi’s little bit in love with all six of his bandmates - individually, and also together as a whole, a unit - and when he adds it all up, he’s got an impossible amount of love inside of him, he knows that, and he’s nervous, worried things will get messy and worse, that he’ll be the one to make them messy.
So, he stares at his computer screen and then selects and double clicks on a bunch of old files at random, opening up several half-baked remnants of songs he’d started and abandoned months or even years ago, just so he can attempt to focus on something that isn’t his bandmates and his gigantic, hopeless crush on the lot of them.
It doesn’t work. His mind is too busy; there’s a whole carnival going on up there - spinny rides and disco music playing on loop and too-bright, flashing lights.
Here’s the thing: realistically, Yoongi knows that nothing could come between him and the other members. The problem is that up until now, all this love has been safely stored inside of him. He views it as a deep and tranquil reservoir held in place by a dam. If he starts kissing everyone, and the dam breaks, who knows what will happen. Floods have a tendency to be destructive.
Sighing, Yoongi clicks out of all the projects he’d just opened and puts his computer to sleep.
He can’t hide forever, he knows that.
And his stomach certainly knows as well, proving so by growling audibly.
Yoongi stands and stretches, steepling his fingers above his head and tilting to the left and then to the right. Satisfied, he heads for the door, opens it, and finds himself face-to-face with Hoseok, who’s got his fist raised like he was just about to knock.
Hoseok freezes and then offers Yoongi a small, apologetic smile. “I was just coming to see if you were still alive,” he says, before his eyes drift to the mistletoe above their heads. “Now I guess you have to kiss me.”
Yoongi frowns, because it’s Hoseok - Hoseok, who makes everything better simply be being - and he’s saying it as if a kiss from him is a penalty rather than a grand prize, and Yoongi makes a rumbly noise of protest in his throat before he loops his hands around Hoseok’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss.
Hoseok gasps, surprised, and it tickles Yoongi’s lips and then Hoseok is pulling Yoongi closer by his waist, his eyes fluttering shut as he leans in, deepening the kiss so that there’s room for them to fall into it.
And fall into it Yoongi does. He kisses Hoseok slowly, unhurriedly, like they have all the time in the world. He eventually licks into Hoseok’s mouth, circling around the inside of his lips and brushing the roof of his mouth with the tip of his tongue, and Hoseok makes another soft sound of surprise.
And it’s sort of revelatory and sort of not , Yoongi supposes, as Hoseok follows his lead, slowly moving his head from one side to the other, kissing Yoongi softly but tenderly, tentatively curling his tongue against Yoongi’s own. Not revelatory in that he likes it. He likes it a lot. He knew he would. But it is amazing to find out that it’s the opposite of messy.
It’s exact, and it feels right. Like something slotting into place. Like someone coming home after being away for a short while.
And then, of course, his stomach has to rumble again, groaning petulantly and completely ruining the mood.
Reluctantly, Hoseok peels away from Yoongi, nipping Yoongi’s bottom lip with his teeth as he does so, and it takes everything Yoongi’s got not to chase after his lips with his own.
“You’re hungry,” Hoseok says.
Yoongi just blinks up at him.
“And starry-eyed,” Hoseok continues, laughing warmly. “Wow. Was it that good, huh?”
Yoongi wrinkles his nose, pouting. “You know it was.”
Hoseok leans down to peck Yoongi’s nose and then reaches up to take a berry from the bundle of mistletoe adorning the studio door.
Face flushing like he’s embarrassed, Hoseok presses the berry into Yoongi’s palm. “Guess we’ll have to do it again, then, huh?”
Yoongi feels his own cheeks heat up at that. He swallows and then clicks his tongue, feigning nonchalance. “I suppose. If we must.”
And as they walk to the lounge hand-in-hand to prepare some lunch, Yoongi realises he was wrong before: he’s not a little bit in love with everyone.
He’s a lot in love with everyone.
And he’s ready for the dam to break.
Ready to overflow.
three
Jimin hasn’t come across anyone under the mistletoe yet and he’s starting to get antsy.
He had a very specific end goal in mind when he concocted his plan five seconds after seeing the basket of mistletoe bundles in the Christmas store: first, he’d hang the mistletoe, then, everyone would kiss and subsequently realise they’re in love, and finally, they’d all get together and live happily ever after.
To say he’s eager for this to happen would be an understatement.
Jimin has watched all the members make moon eyes at each other for years now. Hell, he’s made plenty of moon eyes himself. They’re soulmates, he’s sure, tethered together by so many red strings. They just need some . . . motivating, that’s all, and Jimin had been certain a few sprigs of mistletoe here and there would do the trick.
But, while the kisses have been plentiful, there have been no love confessions.
Yet.
Jimin is convinced this will happen once everyone has kissed everyone, but so far, he hasn’t stumbled into even one of his bandmates under the mistletoe and they’re running out of time. Christmas is coming and the mistletoe will be taken down once it’s passed.
Timing issues aside, it’s also becoming a problem because Jimin desperately wants to be kissed. Preferably over and over again.
And so, as he watches Seokjin and Hoseok kiss for what must be the third time that week, he sighs.
“What’s up?” Taehyung asks, looking up from the webtoon he’s reading on his tablet and shooting Jimin a questioning look.
“I haven’t been kissed under the mistletoe yet,” Jimin mumbles, trying not to sound too bratty about it.
Taehyung hums thoughtfully and then stands, reaching out for Jimin’s hand as he does so. “Follow me,” he says.
As Jimin lets himself be led to the doorway, his lips start to quirk into a smile and his heartbeat starts to quicken. He imagines it as a fairy dust-sprinkled thing inside his chest.
“Can you move?” Taehyung asks Seokjin and Hoseok as he and Jimin approach them. “Or, take it somewhere else, at least?”
Seokjin and Hoseok seem to consider this briefly but then they sheepishly separate and go to join Namjoon, Yoongi and Jeongguk at the table.
Taehyung stands under the mistletoe and then pulls Jimin towards him. “Oh, hey, look,” he says, his voice soft and low. “We’re under the mistletoe.”
“Taehyungie,” Jimin says, drawing out the last syllable in a whine. “Isn’t this cheating?”
“How so?” Taehyung asks, feigning innocence. “I just bumped into you here, didn’t I?”
Jimin bites down on his lip but he’s unable to suppress his grin.
He doesn’t care, he realises, that Taehyung has done this on purpose just to humour him.
He just wants to kiss him.
And so, he does, tangling his fingers in the collar of Taehyung’s shirt and dragging him down . He’s been hungry for this, he realises, as their lips collide messily. So hungry for so long.
Taehyung’s hands move upwards and slide into Jimin’s hair and he tugs gently, drawing Jimin closer to him, and Jimin moans somewhere deep in his throat and then he pulls away, opening his eyes.
Taehyung looks undone, wrecked from not even a minute of kissing, and oh . He’s been hungry too, of course he has, and now Jimin wants to never have to stop kissing him.
He sucks in a breath and then he leaps into Taehyung’s arms, wrapping his legs around Taehyung’s waist and kissing him hard on the lips before peppering his neck with open-mouthed pecks.
“Holy shit,” Jeongguk breathes out somewhere behind them.
“Hey! Are you two in a drama?” Seokjin yells, incredulous. “What are you doing?”
Jimin gently bites down against the skin of Taehyung’s collarbone and then he sucks, drawing a whine out of Taehyung in the process. Once he’s done, he tosses the others a look over his shoulder.
“What do you think we’re doing?” he grits out. “We’re kissing.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung murmurs dreamily in agreement. When Jimin turns to look at him, he’s completely awe-struck.
“Jiminie,” he sighs out, so quiet Jimin’s not sure the others can even hear him. “Why haven’t we been doing this all along?”
Jimin’s heart swells with love. He cups Taehyung’s cheek in his palm. “I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “We should have been.”
And if Jimin forgets all about taking a berry from the mistletoe before leading Taehyung to his room, remembering only hours after when he returns to the kitchen to get some water, he figures it doesn’t matter.
By then, there aren’t enough berries in the entire building to match the amount of kisses they’ve just shared.
four
So far this Christmas season, Taehyung has kissed everyone but Namjoon.
He’s determined to do so before the mistletoe is taken down but he’s running out of time fast and he has entirely no chill.
At first, he thought he was just being competitive, ticking off all the members’ on some imaginary friends-I’ve-kissed bingo card.
Then, he realised that he just loves kissing everyone.
He’s sure Jimin is some kind of genius.
So, this is how Taehyung finds himself lying down on his bed, listening out for Namjoon in the hallway, the tell-tale sound of his broken house slippers flopping against the wood flooring.
And as he listens, Taehyung looks up at the ceiling and he wonders.
About kissing. About love.
He has always thought of love as a canvas one eventually covers with paint. Everyone has their preferences, and some people will be happy using a few colours, or even just one colour, and that’s fine. But Taehyung? He doesn’t want to paint with just one colour; he wants to paint with all the colours.
Taehyung wants the whole spectrum, the whole rainbow.
A sudden, slapping sound interrupts his thoughts.
It’s Namjoon, Taehyung realises, the loose sole of his slipper hitting the hallway floor as he makes his way down it, and Taehyung jumps to his feet and hurries to the bedroom door, his insides already thrumming with anticipation.
He waits as Namjoon goes inside the restroom and then the kitchen and then back into the hallway. It’s just as he’s passing Taehyung’s room that Taehyung throws the door open.
“Hey, Namjoonie-hyung,” he shouts, startling Namjoon so badly he nearly drops the hot americano he’s carrying. “Come here a sec.”
Namjoon levels a blank, knowing look at Taehyung but eventually acquiesces, crossing the very short distance between them and meeting Taehyung directly under the mistletoe.
Taehyung grins.
“Kim Taehyung,” Namjoon says in a scolding tone. “Have you been plotting this?”
Taehyung feigns shyness, looking up at Namjoon and batting his lashes. “Maybe,” he mumbles through a pout.
“Well, you caught me,” Namjoon says, mimicking Taehyung’s low, flirty tone in a way that nearly throws Taehyung off-guard. “What are you going to do about it?”
Taehyung swallows and then leans in, pressing his palms flat against Namjoon’s chest and planting his lips firmly against Namjoon’s own. Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed as Taehyung continues to kiss him, pressing teasing, closed mouth kisses against the seam of his mouth. He’s the one who finally huffs impatiently, coaxing Taehyung’s lips apart with his own so that the kiss can deepen, their mouths sliding together eagerly.
Namjoon’s mouth is hot and he tastes like coffee and Taehyung never really liked the taste of coffee but he finds he doesn’t mind it so much now.
“Sorry,” Namjoon mutters directly into his mouth. “Bitter?”
Taehyung shakes his head and kisses him again. “Sweet.”
Namjoon laughs, amused, and tugs Taehyung closer, his hand firm in the small of Taehyung’s back, the other clutching the mug that’s hot where it’s pressed flush between their bodies.
Taehyung sighs happily, playing with the hair curling against the top of Namjoon’s neck as he moves in for another kiss, tingling with pleasure as he arches his back against Namjoon’s touch.
They stand there beneath the mistletoe a while, enjoying the soft heat of each other long after Namjoon’s coffee mug has grown lukewarm. Later, after Namjoon has reluctantly torn himself away from Taehyung to head back to his studio, Taehyung goes back to bed and wonders again, picturing his canvas in his mind’s eye.
It’s completely covered, he realises.
A riot of colour from corner to corner.
Every colour he could possibly imagine.
five
Somehow, and either luckily, or unluckily (he hasn’t given it much thought yet), Seokjin has only kissed Hoseok since the mistletoe was festooned in the building’s many doorways.
Each time it’s been good.
So good it’s almost ruined Seokjin’s whole life, in fact, causing him to overthink in gigantic, Namjoon-like proportions.
He thinks about the kissing all the time, while he and Hoseok are doing it and long after they stop; he thinks about how amazing it feels, making his skin twitch and warm and yearn for more, and it makes him wonder if it would feel the same if he kissed any of the others, or if the others are doing the same thing. Pondering all the kissing, that is, and as an extension of the kissing, the sheer amount of vague-and-indefinable-yet-very-real love floating about the place, taking up an unfathomable amount of room.
They can’t ignore it for much longer, he’s sure. Things are coming to a head, he can feel it. But then, as soon as he’s had that revelation, it’s gone. He suddenly worries that he’s alone in that, the only one actually taking it seriously, and he avoids the fact that he’s taking it seriously by forbidding himself from thinking about it too much.
He’s pushing it aside for the umpteenth time that day, in fact, when he and Yoongi quietly meet outside the lounge, underneath the mistletoe.
They freeze. A giddy sort of panic bubbles up inside Seokjin, like a nervous laugh. But he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks up at the mistletoe that’s bare of berries by this point, and then at Yoongi.
He swallows; it sounds cartoonish, like a gulp.
“We could just walk away, you know,” he says, immediately regretting it, because Yoongi’s already wetting his lips, looking so serious, so open, so ready, that Seokjin can't help but want to poke fun at him, despite wanting it as well.
Yes, Yoongi’s exactly like him, Seokjin realises. He wants-wants this, and Seokjin’s mouth falls open to gape at him.
Yoongi blinks, his brain quickly processing what Seokjin said, how Seokjin looks, and then the neediness is gone from his expression in an instant. He nods.
“If you want to walk away, we can walk away,” he agrees. “Nobody will ever know, hyung.”
But Seokin’s feet are rooted to the ground. He doesn’t want to walk away, or to turn flippant, to make a convenient joke of it all. What he wants is to make Yoongi look the way he did a moment ago, willing and beautiful and so, so kissable. What he wants is to kiss Yoongi. He lets the urge fill him up to the brim. It’s not as scary as he thought it might be; he really is getting braver.
“We might as well, though, right?” Seokjin says, and even he is surprised by the level of flirt fluffing up his words.
Yoongi blinks, momentarily surprised by the sudden change in Seokjin’s demeanor, and then he’s smiling, delighted, showing all his teeth, and Seokjin’s heart aches sweetly in his chest at the sight.
Oh, he thinks, things are definitely coming to a head.
“It is Christmas,” Yoongi murmurs, his grin smoothing into a determined, set line. “And Jimin worked hard hanging all this mistletoe. Would be rude not to-”
Seokjin’s done talking; he cuts Yoongi off with a kiss, pressing his open mouth on Yoongi’s own and catching it in an almost-chaste peck before prying it further open, slotting their mouths together in a wide, wet slide that’s well, obscene, to be frank.
Yoongi makes a startled, desperate noise, his fingers seeking the back of Seokjin’s neck in an instant, but then he’s expertly taking control. He drags his lips over Seokjin’s own like he’s luxuriating in it, like he’s sinking into hot water or stretching a muscle. And Seokjin feels warm and drippy with the deliberately slow push and pull of it all. He’s hot wax: malleable, caught between liquid and solid, pleasantly hot all over. His entire body sparks with want. With the unavoidable desire to beg for more if he has to.
And he might just have to: Yoongi sucks at his bottom lip a few times and then he’s pulling away. Seokjin makes a whiny noise at the loss. He’s not proud of how not proud he is of doing such a thing.
Yoongi stares at Seokjin’s lips as if he’s mesmerised and Seokjin’s hands move on their own to hide them; he knows what he looks like post-kiss. His lips get swollen and dark. Pink as the inside of his mouth, shiny with spit and - Yoongi can’t possibly know this - so, so sensitive. They tingle against the rough of his fingertips.
Yoongi tuts. “Don’t hide,” he says, and then he’s taking Seokjin’s hands in his own, pulling them down. Then, kissing the backs of Seokjin’s hands and talking as if he’s telling Seokjin a secret, he whispers, “Pretty hyung.”
Seokjin’s spine straightens from the thrill of that.
“More,” Seokjin says without thinking. “Yoongi-yah. Please.”
Yoongi doesn’t move at first and Seokjin nearly yelps in frustration. Then-
“We’ve wasted a lot of time, haven’t we?” Yoongi asks. Seokjin’s hands are still caught in Yoongi’s own. “All of us.”
“Years,” Seokjin agrees simply. “Don’t you dare add another minute to that.”
Yoongi laughs through his teeth, his eyes lighting up brilliantly before they close as if Seokjin’s just done something magical.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, hyung,” he says, and then he’s kissing Seokjin again and all's right with the world.
(plus one)
Jeongguk has been wanting a do-over.
He’s kissed everyone since that first day, since that first kiss with Namjoon and he knows Namjoon has too, that they’ve both liked it - kissing everyone, that is - but when Jeongguk thinks of that first kiss between them?
He cringes.
He’d been half-asleep, caught off-guard, and shy. Because it was Namjoonie-hyung, his first crush, his fucking forever crush, and of course he’d been shy.
He eyes the mistletoe determinedly like it’s his very own real-world boss battle.
This time, he thinks, things will be different. The next time Namjoon rounds that corner, Jeongguk will meet him there and he’ll impress, damn it. Fluster, even.
Right then, Namjoon comes into view and Jeongguk jumps to his feet, striding across the kitchen tiles in his socks only to stop mere millimetres away from him, their breath mingling immediately. Namjoon starts to inhale; it catches in his throat, makes a low clicky noise and good. Jeongguk likes that. He wants to take Namjoon’s breath away.
Namjoon’s exasperated, immediately blushy, and Jeongguk tilts his head to the side curiously as he watches him. His focus quivers for a second but it doesn’t bend.
“I can’t believe it’s us again,” Namjoon says, his voice rising to a rarely-heard whine, and wow, that very nearly does throw Jeongguk’s focus because- well, because Namjoon had liked kissing him, hadn’t he?
Before Jeongguk can ask him to clarify, Jimin’s talking. “Get over here and kiss whoever you want if you’re so bothered,” he says, and Jeongguk can practically hear him rolling his eyes. Jimin’s been bolder recently; they all have. “It’s not like we actually need the mistletoe to kiss, you know?”
Jeongguk and Namjoon both turn to look at him at the same time while Taehyung gasps, faking shock. “Wait, we don’t?” he jokes, and he’s been the boldest of them all, kissing more often than not, whenever he can, praising Jeongguk, whispering in his ear that he’s good with his mouth, like the menace he is.
“No,” Jimin replies seriously, and then he and Hoseok are pouncing on Taehyung, kissing his cheeks.
Namjoon nudges Jeongguk’s chin, dragging Jeongguk’s attention back to him, and then he scrunches his eyes shut.
Jeongguk frowns. “You don’t want to kiss me again?”
“No. That’s not what I- I just-” Namjoon makes a sound of distress and takes Jeongguk’s hands in his own, running his fingertips over Jeongguk’s knuckles. “I’m not mad I need to kiss you again. I want to kiss you again- I mean, I like kissing you. This is all just- It’s-”
“A lot?” Jeongguk supplies when Namjoon trails off. “Good. I don’t half-ass things, hyung. I want to give you a lot.”
Namjoon gapes at him and Jeongguk grins triumphantly, swinging their entwined hands. “Now that we have Jimin’s blessing, can I kiss you, you know, without the mistletoe?”
“What?”
“Like, can we go to your room, hyung?”
“My room,” Namjoon repeated dazedly. “Jeongguk-ah, are you sure-?”
Jeongguk reaches down and lightly drags his nails up Namjoon’s thighs. They tense underneath his touch, start to tremble, and yes, he’s sure. Jeongguk has never been so sure. “Yes. Let’s go.”
“Okay,” Namjoon replies. “Let’s go.”
They rush along the hallway toward Namjoon’s room like they’re trying to find shelter from rain. Once the door clicks shut behind them, Jeongguk slams his lips against Namjoon’s own, manhandling him against the wall as he bunches the front of his goofy Christmas sweater in his fists.
After that first dizzy push, Jeongguk slows down, trying to put some finesse into it. He pecks Namjoon lightly over and over in a string of gentle kisses, slowly coaxing Namjoon’s mouth open until they’re licking into each other’s mouths again, the tips of their tongues touching.
Each second that passes makes something in Jeongguk’s chest crack open a little further. He feels like he’s being flooded with love, lighting up like so many twinkly Christmas ornaments, and it just makes him push against Namjoon even harder.
They’re flush, at risk of blending together, Jeongguk thinks. Chest-to-chest like that, Jeongguk can feel Namjoon’s heartbeat thrum in rhythm with his own. He can’t even think about what their thighs are doing. No, Jeongguk has to focus on the act of kissing just so he won’t go too far too fast.
Namjoon pulls away to catch his breath, his gaze a little hazy.
“Kook-ah,” he mumbles, slightly incoherent. “What did you do to me?”
Jeongguk raises his eyebrows at him and hums.
“Feel so weak,” Namjoon elaborates. He’s still breathless. “Knees all soft and gooey.”
Jeongguk grins. It feels like a victory. “Had to impress you,” he admits, shrugging, and oh. He’s all breathy, too. They’re redoing each other. “After last time.”
“Last time was perfect,” Namjoon insists, booping his nose clumsily. “You’re always perfect. You always impress.”
Jeongguk feels himself begin to flush so he ducks his head to press his face into Namjoon’s chest. Once he’s there, he can’t help himself. He breathes in deep, filling himself with Namjoon’s detergent-and-tangerine-soda smell, completely helpless. Namjoon laughs at him; it shakes them both. Then, Namjoon tugs him up and traps him in another kiss.
Time passes - it has to - and Jeongguk’s the one whose knees are getting weak now, but that somehow feels like a victory too.
“I like you so much,” Jeongguk tells Namjoon between kisses. “Love you.”
Namjoon doesn’t even hesitate. “Love you, too,” he replies.
(plus ∞)
Hoseok isn’t exactly sure when they made the transition from solely kissing under the mistletoe to leisurely making out in the lounge but he also isn’t exactly complaining.
Jimin had crawled out of his lap moments ago to go camp out in Yoongi’s instead and since then, Hoseok, Taehyung and Seokjin have been exchanging lazy, unrushed kisses. It’s nice, he thinks, and it doesn’t fill him with anxiety or dread the way he’d thought it might. It just feels . . . correct, and he can’t lie: he’s feeling pretty loved up. Taehyung presses a gentle pathway of kisses up his neck and along his jaw while Seokjin focuses his attention on Hoseok’s lips and there’s so much tenderness in what they’re doing that it almost startles him before he remembers that they’re them.
Above anything else, they’re always so soft for one another. So careful with each other’s hearts.
Soon enough, Namjoon and Jeongguk are entering the lounge, holding hands and looking windswept, though Hoseok knows full well they haven’t been outside. They momentarily still to take in the sight in front of them, share a conspiratorial look, and then Namjoon is ushering Jeongguk over to the couch, climbing on top of him once he gets there.
And, well, this is a thing now, Hoseok supposes, as he kisses each of Taehyung’s pretty moles, earning himself a lovely, fluttery sigh from Taehyung in return.
It’s a thing, and Hoseok just knows that it will continue long after December ends.