Work Text:
In the year that Park Jimin has been working at 21st Century Education Publishing, he’s noticed a number of annoying things about Jeon Jungkook.
First, Jungkook is always on time for meetings. Which is annoying, because Jimin is always late.
Second, from April to November, Jungkook rides his bike to work and arrives at 8:00 a.m. sharp. Which means that after he’s locked his bike in the storage, he shows up on the third floor, hair damp, forehead glistening under the buzzing fluorescent tubes, muscular ass cheeks well defined through the too-thin-too-tight material of his little black cycling shorts. It’s distracting disgusting. Jimin has too much on his plate to have his train of thought so rudely interrupted by a sweat-shiny thirst trap parading past his cubicle on the way to the showers.
Third, not only is Jungkook in decent shape, but his eating habits are far too healthy. Who the heck brings homemade kale chips and vegan black-bean brownies to a potluck? Jeon Jungkook does. And believe it or not, his stupid brownies are delicious. Jimin hates himself for having sneaked some to take home and having asked Jungkook for his recipe—and then for not being able to match the thickness and sheer chocolate decadence that Jungkook can achieve. Conclusion: Jeon Jungkook is an undercover chef. Or a witch. Further evidence to support the witchcraft allegation: Jungkook never drinks coffee or tea, because of course he’s sworn off caffeine. It’s infuriating. Although Jimin in no way wishes to dictate how others should live their lives, he’s invariably struck by a profound sense of inadequacy when he pours himself half a bucket of coffee in the kitchen while Jungkook is bouncing a fucking herbal tea bag in his reusable cup next to him, and that is not okay.
Fourth, Jungkook is great at everything. Everything everything. Granted, talented people are a pain in the ass in general, but with Jungkook, it’s even worse. As if it weren’t enough to be the best animator at 21st Century Education Publishing, he also consistently leads his team to victory in the monthly team-building volleyball tournaments, he can do a one-arm handstand (Jimin can’t for the life of him remember how he obtained that information), he dresses well and he could probably outsing Céline Dion at karaoke. It makes you wonder how he ended up working in a small, ordinary office in a small, ordinary town inhabited by small, ordinary people like Park Jimin, 26, educational reviewer.
Fifth, Jungkook is handsome. And tall. Why is he like that?
Fifth, Jungkook is nice. As in, always eager to help his colleagues, always shooting them huge toothy smiles—the kind that makes you all fizzy and giggly inside and makes you want to keep asking him for help. Jimin isn’t particularly fond of being indebted to others, so when Jungkook is nice to him, Jimin has to be nice back. Not that Jimin isn’t generally nice. He is nice. But he feels it isn’t nice to be angry that Jungkook is nice, which proves that Jungkook is nicer. Ugh.
Example A: Jimin’s Acrobat Reader starts acting up. When he tries to save Word documents as PDF files, the text comes out all twisted and garbled. Jimin wastes an entire morning with an IT guy who clearly does not have the skills required for his job. This is beyond stupid. Yesterday, Acrobat Reader was working just fine. To make matters worse, Jeon fucking Jungkook walks by and sees Jimin clutching his head in his hands, a hair’s breadth away from retiring thirty-four years early. Jungkook offers to take a look at Jimin’s computer, and Jimin bitterly agrees. “Please.” “Okay, let’s check something… right here. Hmm, that’s weird.” “Right? We tried everything, but nothing—” “Oh, I think I know what the problem is. Instead of saving as PDF, try printing as PDF.” It works. Of course it does. Jimin swallows a sigh that would have sounded more like a whine. The next day, Jungkook finds on his desk a terra-cotta pot containing a cute little cactus with long, sharp spines.
Example B: Jimin goes to grab lunch at the café across the street. He realizes at the checkout counter that he has left his wallet on his desk. Jungkook, who is standing behind him in line, insists on paying for Jimin’s mediocre sandwich and refuses to be paid back. One week later, Jimin takes an early lunch break, crosses the street to the café, buys one mediocre sandwich for himself and one for Jungkook then races back up the stairs to the third floor of their building and, with a smug smile plastered on his winter-whipped face, shoves the sandwich into Jungkook’s hand. Jimin watches with gloating satisfaction as Jungkook’s eyes round in astonishment.
But. Today is December 24th, and in a fit of mercy sprinkled with Christmas spirit, Jimin resolves to forgive Jungkook for all his annoying traits (but just for today).
Just like every morning, Jimin gets off the bus before sunrise and sleepwalks the two hundred metres from the bus stop to the office. His fake Burberry scarf isn’t enough to protect him against the stinging cold; what he needs is to line his stomach with coffee, to thaw his fingers on the mug and to hear his thoughts clicking into place. As he pulls the door handle, he remembers that he’s only working half a day today and that his colleagues will be bringing their kids to the office. He smiles behind his scarf. While Jimin doesn’t have any of his own—he’s too young (and single) for that—he likes children. He thinks they’re funny, and cute, and weird.
The warmth from the central heating slowly seeps through his layers of clothing and sinks into his tense muscles. On his way up the stairs, he makes a mental list of the work he wants to get done before the rest of the team arrives and the Christmas office party starts—
“JIMIN!”
—but before he can get a foot over the threshold, Hoseok spots him from across the room and sprints in his direction with round eyes à la Edvard Munch.
“Thank God you’re here! We have no other choice. Jimin, I need you. Our company needs you.”
The to-do list will have to wait another day, Jimin supposes.
Jung Hoseok—educational developer, head of the social committee, designated office drama queen—is currently draped from shoulder to ankle in shiny red and green garlands. A Christmas elf hat sits askew on his head. A risky fashion statement, if you ask Jimin.
“’morning, Seok. What’s up?” Jimin answers nonchalantly as he heads for his cubicle, Hoseok trotting on his heels in a flurry of jingling bells and rustling garlands.
“Santa called in sick.”
Jimin lets out an amused laugh, but the murderous glare Hoseok sends him shuts him up immediately. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Oh. That sucks.” Jimin knows he’s doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk. “Get well soon, I guess? He’s got a big night of delivering presents ahead of him.”
“You think this is funny?”
“Nope. Not funny.”
“Can you imagine how disappointed the kids will be when they find out they can’t meet Santa today? We can’t just ruin Christmas for them like this.”
Jimin has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing again. When he reaches his cubicle, he sets his shoulder bag on the floor next to his desk and unbuttons his coat while rolling his neck in a circular motion, then goes to hang his coat on the hook beside his filing cabinet. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Hoseok leaning against the partition, tapping his foot impatiently. Jimin is aware he’s being extra slow this morning—hey, he isn’t going to be anyone’s hero before his first cup of coffee.
“Nice sweater,” Hoseok says.
Jimin has put on the only Christmas sweater he’s ever owned, a bright red knitted thing with embroidered snowflakes and sewn-on pom-poms. The same one he wore to last year’s party.
“Thanks.”
“So, are you going to do it?”
“Do what?”
“Save Christmas!” Poor Hoseok looks like he should’ve taken today off. Jimin isn’t trying to annoy him on purpose; it’s just that, well, Hoseok is kind of fun to tease. And he’s blocking the way to the kitchen.
“You want me to be Santa?” Jimin asks, skeptical. Honestly, he doesn’t see what the big fuss is about. If this year’s party is anything like last year’s, half the kids will have already met Santa at the mall, and the other half will burst into tears when their parents sit them on the lap of a stranger whose clothes smell like a damp basement.
“You can’t. We don’t have a Santa costume. But, I did find Frosty’s costume in the stora—”
“No.”
Frosty is the polar bear in the 21st Century Education Publishing logo and the company’s mascot. The costume is taken out twice a year, first for the annual staff photo in January and then for the Pride parade, when Frosty can be seen prancing on the bow of the company’s float.
It’s going to be gross and dusty and moist inside the costume. The mere thought of it makes Jimin want to gag.
“You already said you’d help,” Hoseok says, waving a threatening finger at Jimin. He would be scary if he wasn’t strung with garlands like a Christmas tree.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
“The children, Jimin. Think of the children.”
Around them, their colleagues have started trickling in, some wearing tacky Christmas sweaters, others sporting a variety of dollar-store accessories ranging from simple Santa hats to oversized blinking antlers to glittery gold glasses that read “HO HO HO.” Many are holding their child by the hand, and all are tossing warm greetings and bright, tree-top-star smiles at each other.
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CHRISTMAS SMALL TALK
ROSALIE: Suzy, your daughter is the spitting image of you!
SUZY: Really? I think she looks more like her dad. Hailey, say hello.
HAILEY: (hiding behind her mother’s legs) …
SUZY: Sorry, she’s a little shy.
ROSALIE: She’s adorable!
SUZY: Thanks. Oh—who’s that with Jungkook? He doesn’t have kids, does he?
ROSALIE: I can’t believe he wouldn’t have told us if he did. Hey, Jungkook! Merry Christmas!
SUZY: Merry Christmas!
JUNGKOOK: Merry Christmas, ladies.
SUZY: I love your Christmas suit. You look dashing.
JUNGKOOK: Thank you, Suzy. Rosalie, you didn’t bring Jordan this year?
ROSALIE: I’m afraid he’s too old to be interested in visiting his mom’s workplace. They grow up so fast.
JUNGKOOK: They sure do.
ROSALIE: Speaking of which, who’s that pretty girl beside you?
JUNGKOOK: This is my niece, Soyeol. She’s very excited to meet Santa. Right, Soyeol?
SOYEOL: (nodding enthusiastically) Uh-huh.
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Jimin can feel Hoseok’s laser-like gaze burning the side of his face. He shifts his attention back to him.
“Think. Of. The. Children,” Hoseok mouths slowly, a crazed gleam in his eyes.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. Jungkook’s niece is cute. Of course she is. How could there be a single bad-looking gene in the Jeon DNA?
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Jimin says through gritted teeth.
🐻❄️
The smell is unimaginable. Somehow it’s worse than Jimin was expecting. Frosty’s costume reeks like an entire middle-school hockey team stuffed their dirty laundry into it then left it to stew in the sun for a week.
Jimin has a very sensitive nose, thank you.
He’s been playing the friendly polar bear for almost an hour now. He must admit, though, that the first half hour wasn’t so bad. If he’d been mentally prepared for the task, he might’ve said it was fun. As predicted, the children didn’t seem too worried about Santa’s health. When they saw Jimin enter the large boardroom in his polar bear costume (which Hoseok has accessorized with a scarf around the neck and an elf hat secured with duct tape), their eyes widened with wonder and their little faces lit up with gap-filled smiles.
While Jimin’s coworkers talked about their plans for the holidays as they sipped on homemade Irish cream and nibbled on the sugar cookies and Rice Krispies squares that their manager had brought, Jimin circled around the room from one child to another. He greeted them, patted their heads with his big, plush-clawed paws and gave them warm hugs. Most parents snapped a picture or two.
Jimin found his favourite kids right away.
Nate
2 years old
Loves:
- playing with toy cars
- poking Frosty’s round, fluffy bottom
- tottering away from his mom on his wobbly little legs
Giggles contagiously
Tierney
6 years old
Dreams of becoming an architect so she can “build castles with towers and dungeons and stuff”
Drew a stunning portrait of Frosty wherein the bear’s legs make up three-quarters of his body, making him look suspiciously like a chicken
So, yeah, the mascot suit stinks, but at first Jimin was kind of enjoying the star treatment he got from parents and small humans alike. If anything, it did wonders for his ego.
But then Jungkook tapped Jimin on the shoulder.
“Sorry, um, Mr. Frosty? Would you mind if I took some pictures of you and my niece?”
A few pictures, he said.
Soyeol
5 years old
Gymnast, aerial yoga instructor or stuntwoman in the making
Cannot for the love of her uncle keep two feet on the ground for more than five minutes
Bites when hungry
For the past fifteen minutes, Jimin has been trapped in a corner of the boardroom, between the Christmas tree and the dessert table, with a hyperactive girl who’s treating him like a jungle gym. A couple of metres away, hidden behind his fancy camera, Jungkook hits them with complicated instructions for unnecessarily precarious poses. Soyeol climbs on Jimin, clings to his synthetic fur, wraps her legs around his torso, lets herself hang from his shoulders—sure, she’s light, but Jimin is not invincible.
“Soyeol, get on Mr. Frosty’s shoulders… yeah, just like that. Now make a heart with your arms. Mr. Frosty, could you bring up your hands—I mean, your paws—and complete the heart? No, now you’re covering your, um, your snout… much better. Perfect!”
Jimin’s patience is running out. He’s more than done with Jungkook’s ridiculous demands, with Jungkook’s soft chuckles spilling out every time Soyeol does something silly, with Jungkook’s red-and-green tartan suit which perfectly hugs his lower body, his upper body, his body in general.
(If Jimin has one weakness, it’s a man in a suit. And Jungkook in a suit is particularly lethal. Add that to the list of annoying things about him.)
Jimin is so deep in his ruminations about what makes Jeon Jungkook insufferable that he doesn’t pay attention to Soyeol fumbling with the edge of the mascot’s head until it’s too late.
“Mr. Frosty,” she calls out from her perch on Jimin’s shoulders, “I know you’re not a real polar bear.”
Before Jimin can react, Soyeol yanks on the mascot’s head with a sudden, battle-like cry. All at once, Jimin’s field of vision clears and a rush of odourless air enters his lungs.
“Soyeol!”
Jungkook swoops over, camera dangling from the black leather strap around his neck, and snatches the little girl from Jimin’s shoulders. Jimin feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment as Jungkook crouches facing Soyeol, who’s keeping her eyes fixed on her shoes in an unconvincing attempt to look repentant. Neither seems to notice Jimin squirming in the corner. He’d rather hide under the carpet for the next ten years than look Jungkook in the eye.
“You can’t just pull on the mascot’s head, Soyeol. It’s rude. Will you stop laughing? I’m serious. Apologize right now.”
“No!”
“I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Frosty. Here, your, um, your hea—Jimin?”
As he stood up, Jungkook came face-to-face with Jimin. The vacant-eyed bear head in Jungkook’s hands bumps into Jimin’s protruding belly with a thump.
The surprise on Jungkook’s face morphs into amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching up.
Jimin’s cheeks are on fire. “Give me that—”
Flustered, Jimin grabs Frosty’s head with his clumsy paws. He’s never been so humiliated in his life. Acting on impulse, or anger, or a destructive urge to save his dignity, he turns to Soyeol and blurts out, “I talked to Santa. You’re getting coal for Christmas.”
Jimin spins on his heels and makes for the exit, chucking the mascot head and the elf hat stuck to it in the garbage can on the way out. He’s fuming.
“I’M NOT GETTING PRESENTS?!”
“Of course you’re getting presents, honey. No one is getting coal. Jimin, wait! Fudge nuggets. Marcus, could you watch Soyeol for a bit?”
But Jungkook’s voice fades out of earshot as Jimin gets farther and farther away from the boardroom. He has to get out of here.
He hears hurried footsteps trailing behind him in the hallway.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Jimin waddles away as fast as he can in his stupid polar bear suit. The last thing he needs is a confrontation with Jungkook. Deep down—Mariana-Trench-deep down—he knows he was out of line. He shouldn’t have snapped at Soyeol. He overreacted, but Jungkook has this maddening gift of igniting Jimin’s nerve endings like dynamite fuses. “Leave me alone!”
“No, we need to talk about this.”
Moving of their own volition, Jimin’s feet propel him forward. His thick, faux-fur boots pad across the carpet with a swish-swish noise that enrages him even more. This whole situation is absurd. Damn Hoseok and his righteous social committee. Jimin angrily rips the garlands off his neck before veering to the left and pushing open the door to the storage room… but Jungkook slams his hand on the door to stop it from closing.
“What is your problem?” Jungkook storms in behind Jimin. The door clicks shut. “You think it’s funny to make kids cry?”
Amid the crates and boxes and bins crammed with reams of printer paper, keyboards, mice, monitors, speakers, old pens waiting to be dropped off at Staples for recycling, cheap decorations for every holiday from Halloween to Saint Patrick’s Day to Mother’s Day, the storage room feels barely bigger than a broom closet. And, in the middle of this office supply purgatory, the harsh, humming light of the bare fluorescent tubes outlines Jungkook’s razor-sharp jaw, clenched in anger. This room is way too small for a man and a polar bear. The air in here is even stuffier than it was in Frosty’s cast-off head.
Jimin doesn’t respond. Droplets of sweat roll down his back. Frantically, he kicks off his bear boots then frees his hands from his bear-paw gloves. Now that he can finally use his fingers again, he stretches his arm over his shoulder to try to open the Velcro seal on the back of the costume, but he can’t reach it and he really hates his short T. rex arms right now and why is the heat turned up so high?
“So, you’re just going to ignore me?”
Jungkook is so close that Jimin catches a whiff of Old Spice Classic. He crosses his arms over his plump bear stomach and shoots daggers at Jungkook with his eyes. He hopes Jungkook can feel the sting. “No, what is your problem, Jungkook? Who uses their niece to pester a defenseless polar bear for fifteen minutes?”
“What?”
“The fucking photoshoot! You were doing it on purpose to make fun of me, weren’t you?”
“I didn’t even know it was you in the suit!” Jungkook closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose, as if to regain his composure. From the depths of a box in the corner, the muffled ticking of a clock marks each agonizing second. He opens his eyes again. “This is about me, isn’t it?”
“Not everything is about you, you know,” Jimin says, his tone scathing.
Jungkook grunts in frustration. He balls his hands into fists. “You’re driving me insane! I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”
“I’m nice to you, too.” Jimin is fully aware of how unconvincing that sounded.
“Except every time you’re nice to me it’s like you’re trying to punish me.”
“You wish.”
Jungkook takes a step closer and places his hands against the wall on either side of Jimin’s head, caging him in. “What are you implying?”
A spark (of what? of want? of lust?) flickers in Jungkook’s gaze—but it disappears fast enough for Jimin to wonder if he imagined it. It’s not entirely impossible, considering the sorry state of his romantic life. He swallows, determined not to show how much Jungkook’s proximity is affecting him. “All I ever hear is Jungkook this and Jungkook that. Must be tiring, to be liked by everybody.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Pfft, please.”
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. Jimin wants to rub the smirk off his beautiful face with a freaking Magic Eraser.
“Either you’re jealous or you like me.”
Jimin nearly chokes on his own saliva. “I don’t—you—what is this, elementary school?” His face must be as red as a Christmas ornament. “Why would I like you? You—you’re wearing a dorky tartan suit.”
“And you’re wearing a dorky polar bear suit, but you’re still cute.”
Jimin is pretty sure his body has melted inside his costume. All that is left of him is his head, and it is undoubtedly going to burn off soon too with how close Jungkook is standing. “You’re making fun of me again,” Jimin mutters.
“I’m not. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make my niece cry, but yeah. You’re very cute.”
“… you’re not too hard on the eyes yourself. Your niece is a brat, though.”
“Excuse me?”
“You two are definitely related.”
“So you admit you’re attracted to me.”
“Huh?”
“You just said I’m ‘not too hard on the eyes.’”
“That doesn’t mean I like you. Because I don’t like you at all.”
“You like me.”
Jimin humphs. “You’re literally the worst.”
“You’re so petty and cute, I could bite you.”
The spark flickers again in Jungkook’s eyes, and this time Jimin is sure he’s not imagining it. “You wouldn’t,” he challenges.
Without warning, Jungkook lunges forward and gently closes his teeth around Jimin’s jaw, eliciting a surprised yelp from Jimin. A shiver of pleasure travels down his spine and his toes curl in his wool socks as Jungkook drops a tiny apology kiss on the spot where he bit him.
After a few seconds of silence during which the tension mounts to an explosive peak, Jimin finally recovers the ability to speak. “Jungkook.”
“Jimin.” Jungkook’s voice vibrates deliciously against the sensitive skin of Jimin’s neck.
“You’re a little shit.”
“You smell funny.”
“Agreed. Now get me out of this stinky suit.”
Jungkook pulls back suddenly and Jimin almost whimpers at the loss of his lips on him. “Are you asking me to undress you?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide.
“Yes—I mean, no—I mean, yes! The costume. Help me take it off.”
With brisk, imprecise movements interspersed with breathless, frenzied bits of dialogue (“You free after work? I want to take you on a date.” “How proper of you.” “Or we can skip the date…?” “No, a date sounds good.” “Great. I’ll drop Soyeol off at my brother’s and pick you up at 2:00?” “Yeah, okay.”), Jungkook somehow manages to open the Velcro strip that holds the back of the costume and to have Jimin remove one arm, two arms, one leg, two legs from Frosty’s hollow shell. Jimin feels like he just shed twenty pounds of fur and skin.
No sooner is Jimin free than he throws himself against Jungkook’s chest and presses theirs mouths together. Jungkook retaliates with as much fervour, planting wet kisses with no regard for where they land: Jimin’s lips, his philtrum, his nose, his chin. Hungry fingers roam under Jimin’s sweater and make it crackle with the static electricity that has built up inside the mascot. Each little discharge is like a pretext to kiss even more urgently. Electric-shocked tongues. A kiss-circuit releasing opposite charges. Jimin vaguely registers the sound of something falling from a shelf to his right, but he’s too turned on to mind the clatter, so he just cups Jungkook’s firm ass with both hands and drinks in his satisfied grunt.
“Fuck, Jimin,” Jungkook pants after Jimin sinks his teeth into his lower lip. “I think I should punish you for that later.”
Jimin chuckles into the kiss. “Fine.” Another kiss. “I just have one request.”
“Mmh?”
“When you—punish me—ah”—Jungkook has pushed his thigh between Jimin’s legs, and Jimin is seeing stars—“don’t be nice.”
A devilish grin splits Jungkook’s face at the same time as a new twinkle lights up his eyes in the darkness. “I promise nothing.”
THE END
🐻❄️