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Minho exhales through his nose.
Han Jisung looks at him with none of the shyness he had five kisses ago.
“Hello, again,” the fucker smiles, teeth sparkling more than his spider bites.
Minho doesn't even let him go on. He grabs a handful of his stupidly soft white sweater and drags him forward.
When Minho told Chan to deck the halls with mistletoe he had considered the possibility he would have to kiss a few other people other than his target, of course, but he never thought it would only be on e person. How does he keep bumping into Han Jisung and no one else, he doesn't know.
He’d start to suspect foul play if Han Jisung didn’t smell so straight. His ten-in-one body wash must be named something like Arctic Blast 3000.
The kiss is just as quick as all the others have been.
He shoves Jisung away, and the man has the audacity of looking offended.
“Am I so horrid to kiss?” He asks, in that stupid British accent of his.
It has no business being that strong. Neither one of the spare Hans talks like a Victorian orphan asking for more soup.
Minho humphs and turns his back to him.
He hopes Felix hasn't witnessed this one. He doesn’t know which stage of grief he got to.
He’s still wiping his mouth when Chan appears on his side like the Ghost of Christmas present.
“You look so cute,” he tuts, all smiles and dimples.
“I do,” Minho nods, accepting the glass of rosè wine.
“ You do,” Chan insists in a weird inflection. “You look like a candy cane.”
Minho frowns.
He’s not wearing any red. He made sure not to do it specifically to avoid looking like a candy cane. He’s heard enough jokes about snowmen as is. If there’s a wrong season to have white hair, it’s winter.
Chan giggles and it sounds evil. He tilts his head and Minho follows, just to be met by a flash of obnoxious cherry red hair, one shampoo away from washing out into pink.
Minho looks down at his half full glass and then up into Chan’s eyes again.
Chan hurries to take back the glass, still giggling.
“Oh, come on, it’s cute,” he insists, even if he still has to succeed in wrangling the weapon out of Minho’s hand. “You keep meeting under the mistletoe. The spirit of Christmas is telling you something.”
“The spirit of Christmas is trying to get me on the naughty list,” he mumbles. “You know my brother has a massive crush on him.”
Chan looks at him like Minho is dumb.
“Everyone in this room has a massive crush on him, Minho,” he says, slowly. “He’s Han Jisung.”
Minho is aware.
He would rather not, but alas. It’s kind of hard to avoid when he’s the frontman of the only local band that people don’t dread finding in a pub when they walk in.
“Everyone is not my brother.”
“How many crushes did Felix have in the last six months?”
Many. It doesn't matter.
“They’re filler crushes. Han Jisung is the one.”
“Han of three.”
Minho rolls his eyes. It’s really not funny.
“Oh, stop it,” Chan insists. “They’re called The Chosen Hans, they want us to make bad jokes about it.”
“There’s no us .”
“Yes, it is. Accept it Minho,” Minho shows teeth, “you’re a groupie too.”
“I am not .”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.” It’s a little petulant.
“You’re at the barricade for every gig.”
“I’m there for Yongbok.”
“You either enjoy the music or you have a very severe brother complex.”
If only he was drinking water. Then he could pour it on Chan without ruining his designer white shirt. Minho blinks.
“You’re not wearing black.”
Chan sighs in distress.
“I was at Bin’s for dinner.”
Minho shivers. He’s sure the Seos are nice, but first generation immigrant parents tend to all be cut from the same cloth. Enthusiastic to remind their sons how they left everything behind to give them a better future and eager to let them know how they’re wasting their sacrifices. At least the Seos are willing to have their son’s boyfriend over for the holidays.
Speaking of boyfriends.
Minho looks around in search of puppy eyes, a mullet and a red cardigan. Chan giggles.
“You look just like a kitten,” he reminds Minho, and it ought to be some sort of kink. “I think Seungmin is outside.”
Minho bares his teeth. Outside isn’t only cold, it’s wet . The fog is so thick tonight he almost drove past the bar.
“You could go wait in front of the door," Chan suggests.
Minho could . Seungmin will be forced to walk under the mistletoe when he walks inside, and Minho will be there. Ready to pounce.
He passes by Chan. He hears him giggle, but he doesn’t follow him. He probably has people to be a nice guest to, or simply to say hi to. He knows so many people it makes Minho seasick.
He leans on a giant stuffed reindeer and stares at the door. Triangulates the distance to the nearest mistletoe. Thinks of dark eyes and a resting pissed off face and the really bright puppy smile Minho will get to see once he’s kissed him stupid.
He’s still thinking about it when something crashes into him, sending him staggering for a few feet trying not to be dragged down on the floor.
“Bloody hell,” Han Jisung says, because of course it’s Han Jisung. “I’m sorr-” he says right after, just to stop when he looks Minho in the eyes. “Oh.” Brilliant . He smiles. “Hi. Again.”
Han Jisung’s smile is greatly overrated. Sure, it’s heart shaped. Whatever. Plenty of people’s upper lips dip at the cupid bow.
“Hm.”
He takes a step back.
“Don’t you try it, lover boy!” Changbin hollers from somewhere.
Minho chills. He doesn’t need to look up, Han Jisung is doing it for him.
Minho takes another step back. Jisung pouts. He looks like a cartoon character. It’s unsettling. It triggers Minho’s fight or flight response.
“You don’t want to?” He asks.
No, Minho doesn’t want to. He didn’t want to kiss him any of the six times he already did.
“I don’t care if he doesn’t want to,” Changbin says. “I spent the whole morning hanging that mistletoe for him. He better kiss you with tongue.”
Garlic butter pork bites. Minho will miss him, but he’ll make a delicious dinner.
“Was it you who encouraged the aggressive foliage?” Han Jisung asks. His eyebrows do a weird wiggle under the wavy cherry bangs. “Are you after someone?”
Minho doesn’t want to kiss him, but he also doesn’t want to have this conversation with him. He grabs his sweater again.
He’s not fast enough.
Han Jisung leans in before he can, with his stupid smell of icy thunder power deodorant and cigarettes. He kisses Minho’s cheek before he can do anything about it.
Han Jisung’s cheeks aren’t soft. They’re round, and plush, but they’re prickly with stubble. And maybe it isn’t deodorant, but icy thunder power aftershave .
Minho blinks.
“Chickens!” Changbin hollers. Make chicken noises for good measure.
Han Jisung mocks him, and then Changbin is shouting, and so is Jisung, and Minho is still somehow thinking about Jisung’s chapped lips on his cheek.
He looks around.
He already knows Felix saw it all. He’s got a sixth sense for his little brother.
He finds Felix mixing his drink with a pink straw, tongue pushing his cheek out.
Minho leaves the boys to their ruckus and walks up to him.
“Why aren’t you kissing him?”, is somehow what makes it out of his mouth.
Felix’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
“Why am I not kissing him?”
“Yah,” Minho says before he can consciously decide whether to commit or not. “He’s always under the mistletoe.”
Felix snorts.
“Is he now?”
“Yes.”
“I can assure you, Minho, he isn’t. He’s avoiding it.”
That can’t be. Because if he isn’t hanging around waiting to make out with his groupies, then it means that it’s even more ridiculous that they’ve been kissing so much.
“Well. Drag him there.”
A click of tongue.
“Sure seems easy enough.”
Minho blinks.
He doesn’t get to react. A tall guy Minho doesn’t know comes by and steals Felix away to go play pool, and Minho is left there alone. Thinking Felix can’t possibly just have implied Minho is seeking Han Jisung out.
Flabbergasted, he turns around to look for Chan to complain to, but the traitor has joined Changbin and Jisung and now they’re freestyling Christmas raps and Minho simply isn’t going to walk over there.
He crashes on the couch instead. Jeongin sighs when Minho crushes his lap.
He realizes when Seungmin comes inside that he should have been by the door.
“Fuck.”
“You’re a sad sight,” Jeongin informs him. “Go kiss Jisung.”
“I don't want to kiss Jisung,” Minho hisses. “I want to kiss the other-” han “-one.”
Jeongin looks at him like he’s pathetic. Minho shows teeth.
“Sorry. Forgot you’re not like other gays and you’re not into the band frontman.”
“I’m not,” Minho nods, satisfied, pawing at Jeongin’s sweater. “Guitarists are much better.”
“Jisung also plays the guitar.”
“Jisung is also straight.”
“So what?” Jeongin asks. “It’s not like you’re pulling either of them.”
It’s a challenge.
If Minho wasn't determined to pull the gay Han tonight already, he sure is now.
He stands up.
He needs to take it in his hands. There’s no time to be shy, now.
He just needs to avoid thinking about how red his ears will look. After all, his ears are always red. It’s the cold.
Seungmin is talking with a girl. It’s not someone Minho knows- she must not be a fan. Maybe a friend. Someone who should remind Jeongin is right and that the only reason Minho is allowed this close to the Hans is because Chan hired him to do the occasional odd job around the bar and then kept him around.
It should, but it doesn't, because it’s a girl, and Seungmin is gay, and male groupie trumps female friend in this game.
Minho smiles when Seungmin turns and their eyes meet. He pushes down the giggles and schools himself into the face of mischief.
Seungmin’s friend elbows him in the ribs. His face remains completely unbothered.
And then Minho gets dragged away by the elbow.
He only lets it slide because it’s Felix and he’s found a cat to show him.
They drink eggnog and eat candies while petting the kitten. Minho can only take so much before he’s reminded of Christmas at home, when he pretended not to know their parents’ love was conditional.
He scares the cat on purpose, ignores Felix accusations, and follows him to the back room.
Minho shows teeth when he sees Han Jisung talking on the phone
He’s smiling, eyes scrunched up. It’s a thing he does. His eyeliner is all smudged because of it.
He does look good. Minho isn't blind.
He’s small but his shoulders are broad and his arms look big even bundled up in a sweater. The chains and piercings give him some character customization that would render him easily recognizable on merchandising. Along with the beauty mark on his cheek.
Minho is rather sure Han Jisung didn't take that long to realize Minho is there, when he eventually looks his way. He probably was just waiting for Minho to leave. Very naive of him, when he’s got a kitten playing with the strings of his beaten up platform boots.
He points at the cat.
Han Jisung looks down. He lights up. He crouches down fast enough that the cat should be scared, but the traitor just whips his tail around and lets himself be petted.
“Yes, dad,” he says on the phone, black and red nails matching its case. “I’ll stop hiding. Bye. Happy Christmas.”
He stands up too quickly, and the kitten startles again and runs away. He passes Minho by too, and he just follows him with his arm outstretched.
“Ops,” Han Jisung says, hand in front of his mouth and eyes so round they’re double their size.
Minho glares. No ops. The cat gave him a chance he didn’t deserve after his first sudden movement and Jisung failed him.
“Sorry,” Jisung says, putting his phone away and walking close enough to Minho that he can smell the stupid icy thunder aftershave. “I didn’t mean to make him run away. You like cats, don’t you?”
Minho blinks. Jisung smiles. He’s fidgeting, turning a ring on his finger.
“Chan mentioned it.”
Minho isn’t sure how he feels about existing outside of his body and in Chan’s canon.
“Hm.”
Han Jisung looks at him for quite a long time. Minho pulls his sleeves down. They must look stupid standing there in the door frame, candy cane hair and all.
“Fucks sake,” Jisung says, suddenly. “I missed the chance to let my father know I’m actually getting quite lucky tonight.”
Minho ignores his ears. Unlike them, he’s above being flustered by straight boys poking fun. He wiggles his eyebrow up with a cat smile.
Jisung chuckles too, clearly confused by Minho’s expertly mixed signals, but he’s got more to say.
“Best gift I could give the old chap, not wasting my youth.”
“Is that a concern for you, Mr. Frontman?” They fix it together: “Mr. Front han .”
They both giggle. Minho pulls down his sleeves again. Jisung swipes the side of his nose.
“So, uhm,” Jisung says, suddenly tongue tied. “I should go back to the party. I’ve learned long ago that the more I try to escape Changbin, the louder he’ll be when he’ll find me.”
Minho nods. Jisung stares.
His eyes are really dark. And weirdly amused- Minho is not the one who just said he should go and is still there.
He startles when Jisung reaches out and gently grabs his shoulders.
He shuffles to the left and out of the way, and forgets about this conversation. In fact, he doesn’t know why he’s standing there in the back room.
He nods stiffly to Han Jisung when he passes him by.
“Oh,” he says after just a couple of steps. “Looks like dad will be very jolly this Christmas.”
Minho blinks. Rapidly.
No matter how many times he does it, Felix is still kissing Seungmin, hands on his shoulders and his feet balanced like he’s about to pop his leg up.
There’s mistletoe over their head, but Minho doesn’t care.
Mistletoe has been over Minho’s head plenty of times tonight, and he didn’t shove his tongue in Han Jisung’s mouth once . In fact, he barely felt his lips on his. Felix will probably taste Seungmin’s spit for the next two business days.
Treachery.
Betrayal.
To think he’s been respecting Felix’s hopeless, meaningless crush on Han Jisung for the whole night when apparently isn’t worthy of the same respect. Outrageous.
When Felix finally pulls back and stops sucking Seungmin’s face, breaking into an impish grin, Jisung is long gone but Minho is still there. Watching.
Seungmin puts his hands in his pockets. Felix puts a hand on his arm. Seungmin nods and his shaggy hair falls in his eyes. Felix giggles and turns.
He doesn’t visibly pale when he catches Minho’s eyes only because he’s wearing foundation. Minho can tell by the skittish panic in his blue contact lenses and the way his hand squeezes Seungmin’s bicep like a stress ball.
Minho stops staring. He’s made his point.
Felix reaches him when he’s pouring himself a glass of eggnog. They’re right next to one of the speakers, Michael Bublé wishing Minho a holly jolly Christmas.
“You may be happy to know he’s a good kisser.”
Minho stares at him.
Felix rolls his eyes, pours himself some eggnog too with sweaty hands.
“Oh, come on, Minho. You kissed Jisung like a hundred times.”
“And yet I never inspected his mouth for cavities.”
Felix gapes like a fish.
“Inspected- I didn’t- I never-”
“I could see the spit.”
“No, you couldn’t!”
Minho deserves to get his tits swatted, but he knees Felix’s thigh anyway.
“It’s not like I seeked him out,” Felix mumbles, cat claws screeching on the slippery glass of his excuses. “There’s mistletoe everywhere .”
“And yet you didn’t corner the Han you like under it.”
Felix licks his cheek. Rises half an eyebrow.
“I’ve tried . Anytime he’s near a branch, guess who’s there too?”
Minho is calm. He is.
He exhales through his nose.
Felix is looking at him with challenging eyes, and Minho won’t pick it up.
But Felix has kissed Seungmin, with intent if not with tongue, and Seungmin is actually gay , and Minho called dibs.
Besides, he never let being disinterested in the object of Felix’s desire stop him from being obnoxious about it. He’s played way more X-box games than he ever had any desire to in his life.
He cat smiles.
Felix quivers. His hand clenches around the glass.
“Minho,” he starts.
He doesn’t stay around to hear him finish. He slips between two girls about to kiss and sneaks his way through the crowd, eyes darting around to catch a glimpse of red candy. If the night has taught him anything, it’s that Han Jisung won’t be hard to find.
When he bumps into someone and he can’t smell the icy thunder he’s almost offended.
“Oh.”
He bats his eyelashes the second his eyes make out Han Seungmin’s features. He’s got an interesting face, Minho always thought so. He might have been mildly disappointed when Chan told him Jisung wasn’t the gay Han, but he got over it quickly when he pointed at Seungmin. He looked great in the half shadows of the stage, looking down at his guitar. A way more intriguing sight than a round-faced singer with a scratchy growl.
Speaking of, he’s on a mission.
“Have you-” “You’re-”
They stop at the same time. Wait for the other to continue.
Minho doesn’t have the time to fumble cutely. He nods at him with his chin. Seungmin frowns. Cute.
“You’re the other cat.”
The other cat?
“I’m the one cat.”
No one makes a bad joke.
Or utters a single word.
“You’re unnerving,” Seungmin says, eventually.
Minho folds his wrist, a little shy that all of his front row staring is being recognized. It’s hard work.
“Don’t flatter me.”
Seungmin opens his mouth but only frowns more.
A glimpse of candy red.
“Stay,” Minho says to Seungmin. They’re not done for the night.
Seungmin doesn’t look like a dog who will stay, but it’s okay. Minho has always been more of a cat whisperer.
He’s quite good at being a mouse chaser, too.
When he reaches Han Jisung, he’s talking to a girl whose name Minho knows but pretends he doesn’t because he’s got no business telling groupies apart.
He takes Jisung by the elbow. Ignores his squealing.
Minho doesn’t have to go far to get him under the mistletoe. Chan did a really good job.
“What-” Jisung attempts to ask before Minho grabs his face and kisses him.
It’s a real kiss this time, even if no tongue is involved. Yet.
Jisung’s cheeks are squishy even with his sleeves in between them and the palm of his hands, and the muffled sound of surprise he whimpers against Minho’s lips vibrates on his mouth.
It takes Minho two attempts at changing the angle to realize Jisung isn’t kissing back.
He ignores shame creeping up on him and pulls back.
Thankfully, Jisung is only looking a little confused. Impressed, even. In an amused way.
Minho pouts.
“You don’t want to?”
Jisung laughs. Minho kisses him again and drinks it up.
This time, Jisung grabs him by the waist and tilts his head just right for Minho to kiss him like he wants to.
No tongue is involved when Minho gets the first body shiver, Jisung’s teeth tugging at his top lip.
Tongue is involved when Minho gets the second body shiver, and so is a little sound that takes Minho out of it a little.
It’s when he hears the sound again, just when Jisung tucks his fingers in Minho’s belt loops to tug him closer, that he realizes he’s the one making it.
He yelps. Puts both of his hands square on the straight Han’s shoulders and pushes him away.
He doesn't walk back. Instead he looks at him, picture perfect Boy with a capital B with his mussy hair and messy make up, and he nods . Tiny. Shy.
He shakes out of it.
He has no reason to be shy. Not when Jisung is laughing and shaking his head like he can't possibly figure out what Minho’s deal is. Han Jisung is straight, and this is just a bit of fun.
The problem is, Jisung’s good mood is infectious. Minho finds himself giggling, and he tries to cover it up but Jisung just laughs more at the weird face he’s making, and now they’re both chuckling. It’s so stupid that it makes it even more stupid to stop.
It’s Changbin who interrupts them, making himself useful for once.
“I hate to disrupt your mating ritual, but my man is asking for Han.”
“Awfully non-descriptive,” Minho says, just to be difficult. “Maybe he’s asking for the other one.”
“He better not,” Jisung says, outraged. “I’m the Han. He’s a Han.”
“Shouldn’t your father be the Han?”
Han Jisung looks at him with scathing disappointment.
“Not relevant, innit? He isn’t here.”
Minho can’t tease him any more. Changbin is dragging Jisung away by the scruff of his neck, off to partake in dubious musketeers activities. They argue all the way to Chan and then some more.
When Felix steps in front of him, Chan is wheezing and holding one arm of his mates each, trying to keep them from jumping each other.
“Got it,” Felix says, offering Minho a glass of eggnog. “No making out with each other’s Hans.”
Minho stops trying to peek over his shoulder.
It’s not a joyous victory. Felix looks something like a wet kitten begging to be dried.
Minho doesn’t like the tangy taste of disappointment in himself. Felix might have started this, but Minho is the older one. He’s supposed to be wiser.
He pokes Felix’s tummy. Felix giggles, shaking his head.
“It’s fine. It’s not like I have a chance with him, anyway.”
“That’s why you get a crush on gay boys.”
“I don’t usually choose who to get a crush on.”
“And that’s your problem,” Minho says, tugging at the string of Felix’s knit hoodie. “You need to be more mindful.”
“You choose your crushes,” Felix repeats, like he’s giving Minho a chance to redact his statement.
Minho hums.
They don’t really talk about it much, Felix liking boys, too. When he showed up in town with his sewing machine in tow, he already knew way more words about being gay than Minho did. Minho has a more hands-on approach to queerness, personally. Less vocabulary, more boy kissing.
“You should too. That’s how you get a chance.”
Felix breaks into a smile that finally smoothes the lines between his eyebrows.
“Come on,” he says, looping Minho’s arm through his. “I promised Hyunjin he’d get to hear Jingle Cat Rock before the night is over.”
Minho glares at him, but he follows.
“What’s Jingle Cat Rock?”
Felix smiles deviously.
“An honored Lee family tradition that’s obviously not just starting today.”
Minho cat smiles. Now that’s some fun.
He meets Jisung’s eyes as they walk over to this Hyunjin guy. As soon as Jisung’s rage turns into a small, squinty smile, Minho wipes his mouth.
While making eye contact. If Han Jisung takes offense, it shows as fondness.
It’s late into the night when Minho makes it outside, suddenly too stimulated by music and warmth and people. He breathes into his hands, warm cheeks and ear stinging because of the cold. It’s still wet, but at least the air he’s breathing doesn’t smell like spices and sugar and young adults.
It’s pretty, outside. It’s not snowing now, but a thin layer of white dust has settled on the bushes and trees, and the Christmas lights look like laser pointers in the fog. Minho is following a string with his eyes when he hears a rush of noise. It stops as quickly as it started, the door closing right back.
“Oh.” It’s stupid how British can a single vowel sound. A chuckle follows. “I’m not surprised you’d be here right when I finally decided to make a run for it.”
Minho spares a sheepish look at him from over his shoulder.
“Lived enough youth for the night?”
“I would say so, yes,” Han Jisung smiles, tugging at the strap of his guitar. “Lots of drinking, lots of snacking-” he’s close enough to smell, now. “-lots of kisses. It’d say it’s a net positive.”
Yes, Minho is blushing, no, he doesn’t care.
“Why quit, then?”
Jisung shrugs. His nose is starting to turn pink.
“I have an addictive personality. If I get a rare lucid whisper telling me I should cut a vice short, I better listen to it.”
Minho nods. Jisung, for some reason, looks at his mouth with a weird loopy grin.
Minho looks up, and sure enough there’s mistletoe right above them.
He rolls his eyes.
“Let’s get it over with,” he says, reaching out.
Jisung lets himself be grabbed by the collar of his coat, but he looks confused. Minho points to the porch’s roof. He looks up quickly, eyes round, but soon breaks into a chuckle.
“Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t we be under the mistletoe?”
Weird.
“You didn’t see it?”
“No.”
Jisung’s coat feels cold and wet like everything else.
“But you were staring at my mouth.”
Minho isn’t sure why he talks, sometimes. Thoughts just escape the vetting process. His brain must not pay well.
Jisung blinks like a cartoon character. He giggles.
“Ah.” He wipes his nose. His nail polish is a little chipped. “I was just thinking you have cute teeth.”
Minho is pretty warm. He blinks.
“Teeth?”
Han Jisung nods.
“I fell from the stage and chipped my front teeth. I got them fixed. Of course I miss them now. I get plagued by regrets whenever I see a pretty mouth.”
The texture of Jisung’s coat is quite interesting.
“You weren't thinking about kissing me, then?”
He has the vague memory of Chan warning him about getting a little too friendly with the tequila. Minho called him a lunatic then, but maybe he was a Cassandra of sort.
“Hard to think of anything else, tonight,” Han Jisung laughs, pink cheeks and flirty eyes.
Minho laughs. It’s a little too earnest, but he doesn't have time to think about it- Jisung lit up, like he just remembered something.
“I meant to ask, did it work?”
Minho blinks.
“Did you get him jealous?”
He blinks again.
“Who?”
“The one mate you were trying to mistletrap.”
Right. That one. Minho kind of lost track of the gay Han around the second game of charades, too distressed his own brother couldn’t figure out his obvious clues. And then there was booze. And Hyunjin to torment.
He smirks, lazy.
“Jealous?”
“Why would I be? I reckon it’s rather obvious who you should be kissing tonight, darling.”
Obnoxious. Minho purrs privately.
It would be really, really easy to lean in and kiss Jisung again.
It’s a little different out here in the cold, the only sounds the distant rushing of cars and the muffled noises from the party inside.
Minho releases Jisung’s coat, tucks his hands back into his sleeves.
“My heart wasn’t in it,” he finally answers.
Jisung’s eyes get round.
“You snogged me like that and your heart wasn’t in it? What would you have done to me if it was?”
Minho cat smiles.
“Scared?”
“Yes!”
He laughs. Jisung doesn’t.
“You laugh!” He insists. “My purity was at risk and you laugh!”
Minho rolls his eyes. He suspects it’s not as poignant as he wishes it to be.
“Prude. It wasn’t even that hot of a kiss.”
Jisung makes cute noises, then puffs his cheeks up.
Looking at Minho in the eyes, he takes a step back. Away from the mistletoe.
Minho laughs again. His breath freezes in a flurry.
“You're safe,” he giggles. “I have no plans to defile you tonight.”
“I didn't step away because I'm scared,” he says, outraged. “I stepped away because you don't get to snog me anymore.”
Minho laughs again.
He’s a little sleepy. Not enough not to indulge in teasing.
“That’s not how it works,” Minho says, schooling himself to unserious petulance. “We were under the mistletoe. You have to kiss me.”
“No,” Jisung says, sticking his tongue out. It’s not pierced, unlike his bottom lip. “There was no witness. I was never there with you.”
“The elves see everything. Do you want your gifts to turn into coal?”
Jisung shows his teeth in contempt. It's rather silly. Minho has a weakness for silly.
“I don’t need another guitar,” he says. “I’ll save my pride.”
“Weak.”
Jisung looks like he’ll bite, but he eventually shakes his head.
He really is cute. Alluring, too. It’s not just the whole boyish rockstar of a father-sons rock band he’s got going for him, it’s a unique vibe. A little out there. Minho quite likes it, as someone who’s been a little out there all his life.
“Chris keeps saying we’d get along,” Jisung sighs. “Just once, I’d like him to be wrong about something.”
Minho is a little warm.
He smirks.
“We could make him think he is.”
Jisung thinks about it. Fixes his guitar strap in mischief.
“Nah,” he says, stepping close to Minho. “Too much work. I don't enjoy killing my own joy.” He scrunched his nose up. “Changbin would disagree, but don't listen to him. Unlike Chan, he’s always wrong.”
Minho feels validated. Changbin is never right, especially when he is.
He sighs. It’s content. A little sleepy.
Judging by his kind smile, Jisung seems to get it. Unlike the other thing.
“I wasn't trying to get a boy’s attention,” Minho volunteers. “I kissed you to get back at my brother.”
Jisung voices a small ah , nodding. His hair bounces despite the humidity. Then he thinks about it better and frowns.
“Felix? Chan insists he doesn't like me. Doesn't make much sense if you ask me, with all the custom glaze I get on my brownies.”
Minho shrugs. He doesn't really want to talk about Felix’s brownies and his preferential treatment for Jisung right now, and he doesn't care to investigate why.
“He just thinks you’re hot. And you were born a day apart, so of course you’re fated to be.”
“Well, no,” Han Jisung ponders. “If anything, that sounds like the universe made it a point to keep us apart.”
Minho smiles. Fixes the strap of Jisung’s guitar for him.
“Don't tell Felix, or you’ll break his heart.”
“I thought it wasn't in my power to do it.”
“It is. He might not like you, but he thinks he does.”
Jisung doesn't sound too sold on the logic.
Minho is sure they could argue about it for a long time even if neither of them have any stake in it. Long enough that someone would step on the porch and break their bubble and ask Jisung why he won't come inside for one last round.
“Make a run for it, rockstar boy,” Minho says, all frosty breath. “Before you end up drunk in someone's bed.”
Jisung doesn't attempt to deny it. He winces, his whole face curling up in distaste.
“There won't be any walk of shame on Christmas morning.” A pause. “Again,” they amend at the same time.
They chuckle again. It’s got to stop. It’s undignified.
“I’ll go then,” Jisung says, like a man who doesn't want to go.
Minho would go too, but he’s got a drunk brother to get home and a crush to flirt with. One who could actually cause Minho to take a walk of shame on Christmas morning.
“Merry Christmas,” Minho says as a goodbye.
“ Happy Christmas,” he says, smug and silly.
It’s remarkable, how it doesn’t seem to occur to him that he can leave the last word to someone else.
Jisung moves his weight away, but bounces back.
His eyes quickly look up, and Minho snorts. Cat smiles his embarrassment away.
Jisung doesn't walk away, nor does he make a move.
He lingers.
Minho lets himself be lingered on.
And when Jisung finally leans in, a little hesitant, Minho doesn't meet him halfway.
He won't make it any easier for a straight boy to kiss him in the quiet of the night.
He does reward him with a little sigh when Jisung’s lips press against his. He can't be blamed. The night is wet and cold, and Jisung is warm and dry.
“I don't need another guitar,” Han Jisung smiles against his lips, soft and raspy. “But I’d like it. Would hate for the elves to put me on the naughty list.”
Minho sighs.
It’s a little exasperated.
He raises the tips of his fingers to Jisung’s cheek, steals another chaste kiss.
“To appease the elves,” he says when they pull back. “You kissed me on the cheek before. We wouldn't want you to lose your guitar for a technicality, and we both know Changbin will snitch.”
Jisung smiles.
It’s very, very pretty.
Minho smiles too.
Han Jisung hops away, guitar on his back, and Minho stares. Wishes it wasn't a cold December night and he could take a peek of the ass he’s gaslighting himself into thinking it’s nothing special for the better part of a year.
He stares up at the mistletoe and glares, teeth out.
He learned his lesson about cute straight boys years ago. He didn't need to be put to the test.
He walks back inside.
The light, noise and sounds makes him feel like he’s hopped on a carousel. He stands there for a minute trying to remember how he was spending the night before stepping out on the porch. Surely he was doing something other than kissing Han Jisung.
A drink can’t hurt.
He’s halfway there when he notices Felix talking to Seungmin. He’s all sugary sweet smiles and deep laughters- it could make one think Seungmin is a great conversationalist.
Minho pouts.
On the one hand, he called dibs.
On the other hand, he isn’t sure Felix ever did more than thinking about kissing boys and he deserves a Christmas treat.
A reaction still hasn’t overcome him when an arm sneaks around his waist.
“Minho-o,” Chan coos, “here you are. I’ve been looking for you, I saved you some candy.”
Minho stops staring at the back of his head to look at it.
He looks back up at Chan.
He cat smiles. Accepts the offering.
Somehow, Jeongin is ready to snap a picture the moment Minho wields the candy cane like a weapon.
The image comes out a little blurry, but it only adds to the atmosphere.
Jisung thinks so too, Chan later informs him. Like Minho would care.