Work Text:
Namjoon is carrying chairs when the doorbell rings.
“Joonie, honey, can you get that?” His mother calls from the kitchen.
“Yup, got it,” he calls back, shuffling the chairs quickly into place around the newly elongated dining table and hurrying to the front door.
He opens it to find the Jeons on the other side, bundled and rosy even though they only came from across the street.
“Merry Christmas!” Mrs. Jeon says, bustling past him, already unwrapping her scarf in a businesslike manner. Her husband follows more calmly, with a nod and a warm smile. Junghyung gives hims a brief hug and then, on the way past, snaps one of his garish suspenders, printed with awful little cartoon Christmas trees.
“Your mom got to you too, huh?”
Namjoon turns to watch Junghyun shrug off his coat, revealing a plaid button-down and a pair of equally garish Santa suspenders. He can't help his grin. “Oh it's a group effort, huh?”
Junghyun kicks off his shoes and nods back toward the door, a matching grin on his face. “Ggukie's got 'em too.”
Namjoon turns to find that the youngest Jeon is now inside and grinning shyly at him, so he closes the door.
“Merry Christmas, hyung,” Jungkook says, unbuttoning his coat. His cheeks are pink and the tip of his nose is pink and his lips are so red they don't look real.
“Merry Christmas,” he answers, feeling a little stupid just looking at him. “Uh, you got suspenders too?”
“Yup, look!” Jungkook slips his coat off with a flourish, striking a pose. His nose is a little scrunched, like he thinks he looks ridiculous, but Namjoon is just trying not to stare.
The suspenders aren't even that bad, red and white striped like a candy cane, but underneath he's wearing a soft cream-coloured turtleneck tucked into grey slacks, doing nothing to conceal every defined curve and line of his well-muscled upper body and showing off his tiny waist. Namjoon wants to touch.
He clears his throat.
“Yours are actually kind of nice, are you sure you're not your mom's favourite?”
Jungkook throws back his head and cackles at that, and Namjoon is in so much trouble.
He grew up playing with Junghyun across the street, little Jungkook tagging along, just his friend's younger brother who was by turns cute and annoying. It wasn't until Jungkook came back from his turn in the military last year that Namjoon started to have a problem.
Namjoon has only seen him a couple of times since then, home from the city for Seollal and Chuseok with their combined families like they've celebrated every holiday as long as Namjoon can remember, and every time it's like getting a little too close to a hot stove.
“Jungkookie!” Kyungmin bursts into the entryway, skidding on her socks, her own gold tinsel suspenders clipped laboriously over a white cable sweater onto the waistband of her red skirt. “Merry Christmas!”
“Minmin! Hey!” Jungkook opens his arms to receive Namjoon's sister, who squeezes him in such a tight hug he lets out an oof. They're same-age friends, keeping in much closer touch than Jungkook does with Namjoon, and that's the way it should be, honestly. It's weird for him to be jealous that his sister gets to have her arms around Jungkook's waist like that, that she gets to feel his solid arms around her in turn. Even though they're very firmly platonic and Kyungmin's boyfriend of six months is literally in the kitchen helping with dinner right now, their closeness still feels like a warning to Namjoon: If not her, even less so you.
“Come meet Sungho, I told him you main Widowmaker and he wants to be your best friend.”
Jungkook hurries out of boots and into slippers and, with a farewell smile at Namjoon, trails after Kyungmin.
And then Namjoon is alone in the entryway, with way too many Jungkook feelings and not enough time to get himself together before he has to go sit at a dinner table and be normal.
It's fine. It's just a crush. He's been dealing with it.
It's fine.
He takes a deep breath, tugs at the neck of his own black turtleneck until he's sure it's sitting right, and goes to finish setting the table.
After dinner, at which Kyungmin does her level best to embarrass Sungho (cleverly causing the rest of the family to rally around him), Jungkook volunteers to help Namjoon do the dishes, and the others all make their way out to the living room.
Jungkook dries, as familiar with the kitchen as Namjoon is, and it feels almost embarrassingly domestic. But he's known Jungkook for long enough that, even though he's acutely aware of every time Jungkook brushes past him, every time their shoulders bump, it's still barely awkward at all.
“So how's grad school treating you?” Namjoon asks.
Jungkook perks up. “Great, actually! I think doing my service first gave me a break I really needed. If I'd gone straight on after my BFA I probably would have burnt out.”
Namjoon nods. “Yeah, I remember thinking the same thing. By the time I got out, I was actually excited to go back to school.”
“Exactly!” Jungkook makes an expansive gesture with a plate. “The Army's a totally different set of disciplines. Way more physical than intellectual, at least at our rank.”
“For sure.” Namjoon nods. “And I've actually found the physical training has been helpful in keeping me balanced. I haven't been working out as much as I'd like, but I find it helps me keep from spiraling into unproductive work slumps.”
“I think you've been working out plenty,” Jungkook says with a grin, squeezing Namjoon's arm in passing and knocking his careful equilibrium right out the window. He opens his mouth, closes it, and rinses the glass he's holding in lieu of responding.
After another moment, Jungkook takes pity on him and asks about his research. Namjoon accidentally monologues all the way through the rest of the dishes, and when he realises they're done, he breaks off.
“Sorry to talk your ear off,” he says sheepishly.
“I literally asked,” Jungkook shrugs, hanging up the dish towel to dry. “I love hearing you get excited about stuff.” He leans back against the counter as Namjoon clears his throat and dries his hands.
“Well, I'm glad.” He glances around at the spotless kitchen. “Thanks for your help.”
Jungkook gives him a warm, slow smile. “Any time.” He pushes off the counter and leads the way out of the kitchen.
At the doorway, he stops.
“Oh.”
Namjoon, following behind, almost runs into him. “Oh?”
Jungkook mutters something that sounds like “Kyungmin, why” and turns around, pointing upward. Namjoon follows the gesture until he sees it: a small sprig of greenery, not part of any other decoration, hanging pointedly above the kitchen doorway. Long rounded green leaves, tiny white berries.
Oh.
“That's mistletoe,” Namjoon says blankly.
“It is.” Jungkook doesn't move, standing directly under it, looking directly at Namjoon with his eyebrows slightly raised, his big brown eyes full of... hope?
Namjoon is not imagining this, he cannot be imagining this. His pulse is suddenly thundering in his ears and there's a kind of sizzling feeling spreading out from his chest.
Against all his cautious instincts, he reaches out with one finger and snags Jungkook's suspender, giving it a little tug. Jungkook comes easily, until they're toe to toe. Jungkook's eyes are darting between his eyes and his mouth, and it seems Namjoon has used up all of his courage because he can't move a muscle.
But it's okay, because Jungkook's eyebrows shift into determination, and the breath he lets out sounds like a very quiet “fuck it” before he's grabbing Namjoon by the suspenders and pulling him down into a kiss.
It's gentle at first, just a soft, tentative touch of lips, like Jungkook, too, has suddenly lost his nerve. Then they both seem to catch up, to realise that there's nothing to be uncertain about anymore, and Namjoon settles his hand into the dip of Jungkook's waist and cradles the back of his head with the other. When he threads his fingers through the overgrown hair at the back of his head, Jungkook lets out a little breathy moan, and Namjoon can't stop himself from pressing the opportunity, teasing his mouth open with his tongue, swallowing the little sounds he can't seem to stop making as Jungkook wraps his arms around Namjoon's neck and lets him in.
Namjoon pulls him closer, sliding his hand around to the small of Jungkook's back, feeling the curve of it deepen as Jungkook arches into him, savouring the press and play of his tongue against Jungkook's, his lips against Jungkook's, his body against Jungkook's.
Only the recollection that their families are literally in the next room gives Namjoon the wherewithal to pull back instead of pushing for more. Jungkook chases his mouth with a pitiful little whine, and he can't help pressing just one more kiss against his red, kiss-swollen lips.
For a few moments they stand there, breathing hard, just staring at each other. Jungkook is beautiful, a flush high in his cheeks and his eyes shining like galaxies.
Finally, Namjoon gathers himself to speak. “Really?” is all he can think to say.
Jungkook nods vigorously. “For so long. It's embarrassing.”
“It's not embarrassing,” Namjoon corrects. “Embarrassing is how I reacted when you came home all army buff.”
Jungkook's smile turns sly, and he toys with the hair at the back of Namjoon's neck, sending tingles down his spine. “I was hoping.”
Namjoon can't help kissing him again, breaking it again immediately to laugh a little. “So... are we dating? Grad programs at different universities isn't going to make it easy.”
Jungkook shrugs. “We're both in Seoul. We'll make it work.”
“Yeah?” Namjoon searches Jungkook's eyes, finding nothing but a mirror for his own feelings there. “Okay. We'll make it work.”
Jungkook pulls away and takes his hand.
“Let's go tell our families, I guess. I think I have to murder your sister.”
Namjoon bursts out laughing as Jungkook tows him into the living room.