Work Text:
Don't forget to hang up your sock
"I know, I know," Jake grumbles, coincidentally hanging up laundry at the moment. He can't wait to be doing this outside again, but it's winter, so no way is he going to step out there in a foot of snow just to hang his and three other people's undergarments. He'd have to do it multiple times, too, because they have a laundry schedule. Can't do that much laundry all at once. "I'm getting to it."
There's a sizzle of something hitting a hot pan from the other room followed by Riki’s heart-molesting rendition of All I Want For Christmas Is You. Jake only feels mildly less offended to realize that Riki is not nagging him about hanging up laundry faster. Nobody is, for that fact.
Another sock clipped to the line, and then it hits out of nowhere, like most brilliant ideas do. The perfect Christmas present for Heeseung.
Jake has never been the best at giving gifts. He thinks his gifts have been okay—at least he puts thought into them, but he's never been the big gift-giver of the family. Admittedly, none of the og house fellas have been the big gift-giver—Jake, Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Riki. The dorm fellas put all of their skills to shame, in his opinion.
But maybe he can change this year. Maybe he can up the standards. It's the first Christmas the seven of them are living together and he wants it to be special, sue him (please don't. He has a family to feed).
He recruits Riki, obviously, and Riki thinks it's a brilliant idea, obviously (because it is). They write a list of the perfect traits for the socks, check it twice, thrice, five million-ice, and the hunt begins.
They start online, consuming as many reviews and articles on Christmas socks as humanly possible. So. Many. Socks. It wasn't meant to get this bad. Each time an order arrives, they open the package like it's Christmas Day (hiding from Heeseung), and soon a pile of socks in Riki's room rivals that of the mountain of presents in The Polar Express.
Jake has taken to calling the socks The Socks, because they just seem that way—perfect and frighteningly unattainable. The Socks. It's simple, really, yet so complicated.
A week since their mission began, and two weeks until Christmas.
Drastic times, drastic measures.
They research convenience stores in the area that carry clothing, specifically socks, and make a list. An itinerary, if you will. Jake will. Riki will.
Now they need to see if Heeseung will, because neither Jake nor Riki can drive, and the others are all busy and too exhausted when they have freetime to even entertain the thought of a day-long convenience store tour.
"You want me to drive you to a bunch of convenience stores? Heck yeah!"
They stare at him incredulously. Is he joking?
"What?" He raises his shoulders, defensive, and then says one word that tells them all they need to know: "Ramen."
So that goes well.
Jake is starting to think maybe getting the socks without Heeseung noticing won't be very difficult. They've been to three stores thus far, and in each one Heeseung has either immediately gone to the ramen section or stood by the door glued to his phone.
Jake is also starting to think that maybe it will be very difficult to get the socks, full stop. They're all the wrong texture, the wrong size, the wrong colors, the wrong design.
He shoves these thoughts from his brain as he and Riki walk into the fourth. Heeseung's driven off somewhere after asking if he can go pick something up, and he'll be back in about ten minutes. Should be plenty of time for them to find The Socks. That's what Jake thinks, at least.
Eight minutes into the endeavor, Jake is losing hope.
Optimistic hopes are usually portrayed as high, correct? Correct. And pessimistic hopes are the opposite.
Well, throw that out of mind for a second, and think of it this way: if the concept of optimistic hopes is low to the ground and the concept of pessimistic, dejected hopes is far above, Jake's hopes have shot as high as Sunghoon can throw his shoe.
Riki is still determinedly searching the bin. Jake gazes forlorn at his assigned shelf. He grabs the closest socks and beckons Riki, heading to the counter.
This pair is fluffy and bright red, with a tacky reindeer face smiling up from each one. Not ideal, but they'll do as a gag gift if they end up not finding The Socks. This terrible notion seems more and more probable the longer they spend out here.
The song that's playing registers in his ears.
A dickory-dock, don't forget to hang up your sock
Riki snickers. "He said dick."
"I'm sorry about my er, son," Jake says to the cashier, who waves it off.
"No worries. I've heard worse."
Jake sighs in relief. "Oh, I'm so glad. You have nooo idea how hard our lives have been lately. I'm happy he's showing a bit of humor at least."
The cashier doesn't look elated to hear Jake's issues or thoughts on his son, but he still nods encouragingly. "Ah."
"See, we just got divorced, and—"
"Heeseung's here," Riki says loudly.
"I'm sorry, but was it you and your son that got divorced or—"
"Gotta run," Jake says, hurrying to put down his payment and grab his things. "Thanks! Happy holidays!"
When Jake climbs into the passenger seat, the first sight is Heeseung's stuck-out lip. Of course he'd get sad over this.
He perks up when Jake pats his hand and says, "We still have like five to go."
"But what if there was something new there?"
"There wasn't," Riki says from the back.
Jake can attest to that.
How Riki hasn't groaned or complained speaks wonders to how Jake was at that age. His feet are so sore he wishes they would just fall off at this point and spare him the agony.
The fifth is decorated like a winter wonderland. Snowflakes dangle from the ceiling, and an animatronic snowman waves from off to the side. The song playing over the speakers changes shortly after they walk in.
Deck the halls with boughs of holly
"Haha, it sounds like he said dick," Riki says, completely uninvited, and visibly tries to hold back his laughter before just giving in.
Jake says to Heeseung, over Riki's snort-laughing, "Dick on his mind all the time. I remember when I was that age."
Heeseung searches on his phone for about thirty seconds too long for Jake's rapidly-decreasing The Socks-induced attention span before showing Jake a meme frequently seen in Instagram comments, where they both spend a… portion… of their time: We should all know less about each other.
Jake pushes him, but it doesn't do much because Heeseung is as big as he is floppy. "Come on, you remember that phase."
"I really don't remember it, mine nor yours," Heeseung says, shaking his head apologetically.
The only reason Jake refrains from teasing him about a certain Park—not the other Park—is because Riki's grinning cheerily at them from a cart of themed socks and greeting cards. He presents a picture of the most voluptuous snowperson Jake has ever had the misfortune of seeing.
Even worse are the socks Riki discovers and holds for their desperate gazes like they're pilferers of fuzzy foot-sleeves thicker than Jake's hands. Jake thinks he might even catch a glimpse of socks with dicks and bells all over them.
The Socks are nowhere to be found. What else would would be expected from this store, anyway? Everything in it is blue and white, and The Socks are definitively not blue and white.
"Wait," Riki says. "I have to go to the bathroom."
Jake sits in the car with Heeseung while they wait. This feels like a family outing. Minus several members of the family, but still family nonetheless.
The urge to be annoying grows bigger than Jake's resistance, so he turns to Heeseung who's staring out the window wistfully. "Missing Sunghoon?"
"Let's not do this right now."
"Okay. Sorry."
"It's alright, Jakey. I'm just really not in the mood for that. Besides, you're one to be teasing me."
Jake covers his ears. "Wow, it's so loud in here."
Heeseung looks at him deadpan.
Earthquakes aren't very common in this area, which makes it hard to explain why something much bigger than a regular vehicle or monster uprising is rumbling the car (and the people in it).
On the road parallel to this road separated by a strip of dying grass and a few sad trees, a gigantic cart like a float in a holiday parade rolls by, blasting Christmas music.
Don't forget to hang up your sock
"Get us out of here," Jake says on reflex. "I don't care if Riki's not done yet. We can park the car somewhere else."
"Why?" Heeseung pulls away from the curb and tries to find somewhere near the store entrance to wait for Riki.
"No reason."
"Oh. Well, okay."
A few minutes pass, and Jake has an inkling the reason Riki is taking so long is he stopped to laugh at the socks again. That, or he ate too many of the experimental cookies Jake and Jay made a couple of days ago. He really hopes it's not that.
The first inkling is confirmed when Riki walks out and gets into the car, nearly doubled over with laughter. And then it's on to the next one.
And the next one.
And the next one.
Jake is losing hope again. It's been more a long, drawn-out sense of losing hope since this whole thing began, but right now it's most prominent. He sighs, getting deja vu as he stands sadly in front of his assigned shelf and Riki rifles through a bin. But then he sees them.
Dark red, sort of a maroon. Whatever it's called, it's beautiful. Fine wool material (smooth and warm). Perfectly stylized little deer stitched with gold and brown thread.
Best of all, there are several in stock. He can't help it—they're too good to only get one pair.
He's feeling great when he gets in the car this time, something he was seriously beginning to think he wouldn't. It's so fantastic.
But then Riki reaches over the console for the media controls. "Let's see what's on the radio."
Don't forget to hang up your sock
"Hang me next to it," Jake mutters.
"What?"
"Nothing."