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The house smelled like cinnamon, vanilla sugar, and fresh pine from the oversized Christmas tree that Jungkook had insisted on bringing home. Snow fell steadily outside the wide living room windows, catching in the golden string lights along the eaves. Inside, it was warm, loud, and wonderfully chaotic—the kind of beautiful mess that only happened with a energetic five-year-old running the show.
“Papa! The star goes on top, but you still can’t reach it. Daddy’s taller!” Minjun declared, standing on the couch in his striped socks, hands planted on his little hips like a tiny boss.
Jungkook, balanced on the step ladder with one strong arm wrapped around the massive fir to steady it, let out a dramatic gasp. His broad shoulders and muscular frame made the ladder look smaller than it was. “Yah, Minjun-ah. Betraying me already?” He stretched upward easily, thanks to his height advantage, and settled the glittering star perfectly on the very top. The tree wobbled for a second before settling.
Jimin leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, wearing an oversized cream sweater that slipped off one shoulder. He was shorter than Jungkook by a noticeable few inches, softer and more delicate in build compared to his husband’s defined muscles. His smile was pure mischief. “He’s not wrong, babe. Though watching you stretch like that is my favorite part.”
Jungkook climbed down, flexing his arms a little on purpose as he landed. He ruffled Minjun’s messy dark hair. “See? Tall and strong. That’s why I carry all the heavy boxes.”
The afternoon had started in the kitchen with baking. Jimin had woken them with soft Christmas music, and the scent of sugar cookies had filled the house early. Minjun “helped” by enthusiastically dumping way too much flour, which led to the inevitable flour fight. Jungkook still had white streaks in his black hair and across his sharp jawline. Jimin had flour dusting his collarbones and eyelashes. Minjun looked like a walking snowman, cheeks flushed pink with laughter and oven warmth.
“These ones are definitely for Santa,” Minjun said seriously at the kitchen table, holding up a lopsided snowman cookie. “He likes extra chocolate chips. I checked last year.”
Jimin nodded solemnly while piping a red scarf. “We can’t let him go hungry. Daddy will leave extra carrots too.”
“Eight carrots,” Minjun corrected. “One for each reindeer. Rudolph gets the special one with the green top.”
Jungkook, washing dishes at the sink, his muscular forearms flexing as he worked, chuckled deeply. “You’ve got it all planned, buddy.”
Minjun’s face turned serious, brows furrowing. “Santa watches everything. If I’m not good, I’ll be on the Naughty List. No presents… and maybe he won’t come.”
The kitchen quieted. Jimin immediately pulled Minjun onto his lap, flour and all. “Hey, you’re the best kid anywhere. Santa knows it. We know it.”
Jungkook dried his hands on a towel and crouched down, his taller frame making him eye-level with Minjun even like that. His muscular build cast a gentle shadow. “Papa’s right. You shoveled snow with me even when your hands got cold. You shared your toys. Santa’s got you at the top of the Nice List.”
Minjun giggled, worry easing a bit. Jungkook kissed the top of his head, breathing in baby shampoo and cookie dough.
Later, as golden hour light poured in, they decorated the tree. Ornaments came out one by one—handmade popsicle reindeer from daycare, delicate glass baubles Jimin had collected since their first Christmas. Jungkook reached the highest branches effortlessly with his height, while Jimin and Minjun handled the lower ones.
Jimin held up a silver frame ornament with their family photo from last year. “Remember this? Minjun tried eating snow the whole time.”
“How could I forget?” Jungkook laughed, voice warm. “You were chasing him while I filmed everything.”
Minjun draped red tinsel with great focus, though half of it slid off. Jimin knelt beside him, smaller hands guiding his son’s. “Tuck it gently, like this.” Their hands brushed, and Jungkook watched from above, chest full of warmth.
This was his life—the messy counters, too-big tree, endless questions. He and Jimin had fought hard for it through adoption struggles and long nights. Now Minjun filled their world with sticky hands and bright laughter.
That evening they made hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and watched Rudolph. Minjun eventually dozed off between them, head on Jimin’s shoulder. Jungkook’s long arm rested along the back of the couch, fingers playing with Jimin’s hair.
“You think he’s still worried about the Naughty List?” Jimin whispered.
“A little. But we’ll make this Christmas perfect,” Jungkook replied, leaning over to kiss Jimin’s temple. His taller, stronger frame made the movement protective and easy. “I’m making sure of it.”
𝓈𝒿
The specialty shop in a quiet Hongdae side street smelled of cedar, fresh fabric, and leather. Jungkook stepped inside, brushing snow from his broad shoulders, collar turned up against the cold.
“Mr. Jeon! The suit is ready,” the owner greeted.
In the back room, the costume hung dramatically—deep crimson velvet with thick white fur trim, padded belly, polished black boots, and a premium beard-wig set. Jungkook changed, the velvet fitting snug over his muscular thighs and chest. The pants were particularly tailored to his taller, athletic build.
When he stepped out, the owner nodded approvingly. “Perfect. You look the part.”
Jungkook turned in the mirror. The height, the broad shoulders, the full white beard—he barely recognized himself. “This will fool anyone. Especially a five-year-old.”
He paid, had it wrapped securely, and smuggled it home in the garage behind storage bins while Jimin and Minjun were out.
That night, after Minjun was asleep, Jungkook and Jimin lay in bed. Jimin curled against his husband’s side, head on the solid chest, fingers tracing the muscles under Jungkook’s shirt.
“Long day?” Jimin asked softly.
“The best.” Jungkook kissed his hair. “Minjun was so proud of those cookies.”
Jimin sighed happily. “He’s asking more questions lately. Skeptical ones. This might be our last fully magical Christmas for a bit.”
“That’s why I’m going all out,” Jungkook murmured. “Something big. Trust me.”
Jimin looked up, smiling. “I always do.” He pulled Jungkook down into a kiss that quickly grew heated. Jungkook’s stronger frame easily shifted them, hands gentle but sure as they moved together in the dark.
Afterward, Jimin traced Jungkook’s jaw. “I love you. Both of you are my whole world.”
The next afternoon, while Minjun napped, Jungkook brought Jimin to the garage for a private try-on. He emerged fully dressed—tall, broad, imposing in the red suit.
Jimin nearly dropped his tea, laughter spilling out. “Oh my god. Jungkook. Those pants are… tight on you.”
Jungkook struck a pose, booming, “Ho ho ho! Have you been good, Jimin-ssi?” His deeper voice and muscular build made the costume surprisingly attractive.
Jimin circled him, hands smoothing over the velvet. “Santa isn’t supposed to look this muscular and tall. It’s distracting.” He tugged the beard playfully. “Itchy?”
“Very. But worth it for his face.” Jungkook pulled Jimin close, kissing him deeply despite the beard. They laughed between kisses, Jimin’s smaller frame fitting perfectly against Jungkook’s stronger one as they teased and wrestled lightly among the boxes.
“You’re ridiculous,” Jimin whispered, eyes full of love. “And I can’t wait to see Minjun’s reaction.”
They packed the suit away carefully, talking through the plan: Jungkook climbing in from the balcony for authenticity, Jimin filming from inside.
𝓈𝒿
Christmas Eve wrapped the house in magic. Pine, cocoa, and warm cookies scented the air. Snow fell heavily outside. Minjun had been vibrating with excitement all day—helping set out cookies and carrots, wearing his reindeer pajamas.
At bedtime, Jungkook carried him upstairs easily with his height and strength. “Daddy, promise only Santa comes in? No one else?”
“We promise,” Jungkook said, tucking him in. Jimin sat on the other side, running fingers through Minjun’s hair.
They read The Night Before Christmas, voices blending. Minjun fought sleep but finally drifted off, clutching his bear.
Downstairs, they worked in quiet harmony. Jungkook carried heavy boxes of presents from the garage, muscles flexing under his shirt as he moved them effortlessly. Jimin arranged the gifts artfully around the tree, his smaller frame weaving between branches.
“Shh, you’re going to wake him,” Jimin whispered, laughing as Jungkook nearly tripped on tinsel.
“This one’s heavy. What’s in here?” Jungkook set down the big art easel box.
“Only the best for him.” Jimin smiled up at his taller husband.
They perfected every detail—cookies looking nibbled, stockings full, candles lit. Finally they stood back, Jungkook’s arm around Jimin’s shoulders, pulling him close against his broader chest.
“It looks magical,” Jimin said softly.
Jungkook kissed him deeply under the mistletoe, lifting him slightly onto his toes with natural ease. “Can’t wait for tomorrow.”
They danced slowly by the fire, reminiscing about their first Christmases together. Jungkook’s taller, muscular frame made Jimin feel safe and cherished as they swayed. They checked on Minjun one last time, hands intertwined, hearts full of love and anticipation for the special night ahead.
𝓈𝒿
The house was finally quiet except for the soft crackle of the dying fire and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors settling under the weight of winter. Jungkook stood in the dark garage, heart thumping steadily as he pulled on the thick velvet Santa suit. The fabric felt heavy and rich against his skin, the white fur trim brushing softly at his wrists and collar. He adjusted the padded belly, then stepped into the tall black boots that added a little extra height to his already tall frame.
He caught his reflection in an old mirror leaning against the wall—broad shoulders filling out the red jacket, muscular thighs snug in the velvet pants, the full white beard covering most of his face along with the wig. Even he had to admit it looked convincing. He practiced the deep “Ho ho ho” a couple times under his breath, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry upstairs.
Jimin was waiting inside, probably already positioned near the tree with his phone ready. Jungkook smiled to himself. This was for Minjun, but it was also for them—the little adventures they still created together even after years of marriage and parenthood.
He slipped out the side garage door into the cold night. Snow crunched under his boots as he moved around to the back of the house. The balcony off their bedroom was the perfect entry point for “authenticity.” Jungkook rolled his shoulders, muscles warm from the adrenaline, and grabbed the sturdy trellis they’d reinforced earlier that week. Climbing was easy for someone his size and strength. He pulled himself up quietly, boots scraping lightly against the wood, snow dusting his red shoulders.
Once on the balcony, he paused, listening. No movement inside. Good. He eased the sliding door open—the one they’d left unlocked on purpose—and stepped into the warm glow of the living room.
Jimin was right there by the tree, phone held steady, wearing soft pajamas and an excited little smile that made his eyes crinkle. He looked smaller next to Jungkook’s tall, broad Santa figure, but his face lit up with pure delight when he saw the full costume in the dim lights.
“Oh wow,” Jimin whispered, barely containing his laugh. “You look… ridiculously good. The kids at the mall would lose their minds.”
Jungkook straightened to his full height, adjusting the big black belt. “Quiet, Papa. Santa’s working.” His voice came out deeper, playful. He moved toward the tree with exaggerated care, pulling the big sack of last-minute wrapped gifts from where they’d stashed it earlier. Each placement was deliberate—setting the big red truck right in front, arranging the art supplies, tucking smaller boxes around them. The tree lights reflected off the shiny paper, turning everything into a colorful dream.
Jimin followed him with the camera, biting his lip to stay silent, but his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter every time Jungkook did a dramatic “Ho ho ho” while arranging things. The adrenaline was high. Jungkook kept glancing toward the stairs, half-expecting tiny footsteps, but the house stayed peacefully asleep.
When the last gift was placed and the cookies had a few strategic bites taken out of them, Jungkook stepped back. Mission accomplished. He turned to Jimin, chest rising with satisfaction, the beard tickling his chin.
Jimin lowered the phone slowly. The living room felt smaller suddenly, just the two of them in the soft glow, snow falling silently outside the windows. The adrenaline shifted into something warmer, heavier. Jimin reached up—had to go onto his toes because of Jungkook’s height—and tugged gently at the white beard.
“Come here, Santa,” he murmured, voice low and fond.
Jungkook leaned down instinctively. Jimin pulled him closer by the velvet lapels, their lips meeting under the mistletoe that still hung from the archway. The kiss started sweet, celebratory, but quickly deepened. Jimin’s smaller hands slid up Jungkook’s broad chest, feeling the muscle and padding beneath the suit. Jungkook wrapped one strong arm around Jimin’s waist, lifting him slightly as the kiss grew heated, full of laughter and love and the thrill of their silly secret.
They broke apart after a long moment, foreheads resting together. Jimin’s cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkling.
“That was the best operation yet,” he whispered.
“Worth every itchy second,” Jungkook replied in his normal voice, grinning behind the beard. He stole one more quick kiss before reluctantly stepping back. “I should head back out before I get too comfortable.”
Jimin nodded, still filming a few final seconds as Jungkook gave a theatrical wave and slipped back toward the balcony door. The cold air hit him again as he climbed down, boots careful on the snowy trellis. He circled back to the garage, already replaying the night in his head. Minjun was going to lose his mind tomorrow morning in the best way.
Inside the warm house, Jimin watched from the window until Jungkook disappeared safely, then double-checked the locks and turned off most of the lights. He crept upstairs, pausing at Minjun’s door to listen to the soft, even breathing. Everything was perfect.
𝓈𝒿
Minjun woke up slowly, throat dry from all the excited whispering he’d done earlier. The house was dark and quiet, but something felt different. Maybe Santa had already come? His little heart raced with hope and a touch of worry about that Naughty List as he slipped out of bed, clutching his stuffed bear tightly.
He padded down the hallway in his reindeer pajamas, socks sliding a little on the wooden floor. The bannister overlooked the living room perfectly if he crouched low. He dropped to his knees, peeking through the wooden slats, eyes wide.
The tree lights were still on, casting a magical glow. Presents were piled high—more than he remembered from earlier. But that wasn’t what made his small body freeze.
Papa was there.
Papa was kissing someone. A giant red stranger. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick white beard and red suit. The man’s big arms were wrapped around Papa, lifting him a little just like Daddy sometimes did. The stranger had Papa pulled close under the mistletoe, kissing him deep and long.
Minjun’s breath caught in his throat. His tiny hands gripped the bannister so hard his knuckles went white. That wasn’t Daddy. Daddy was tall and strong too, but this man was dressed in bright red with white fur and a big belly. Santa. It had to be Santa. But Santa was kissing Papa. Papa was kissing him back, smiling, hands on the red jacket.
The world tilted strangely in Minjun’s five-year-old mind. Papa loved Daddy. They always kissed and hugged and danced in the kitchen. But now Papa was with Santa. The big red man. Did that mean Papa was leaving? Like in the stories when people kissed someone else and went away?
Tears burned hot in his eyes. He scrambled backward on all fours, heart pounding so loud he was scared they might hear it downstairs. He ran back to his room on tiptoes, closing the door as quietly as he could. Inside, he crawled under his blanket for a minute, bear clutched to his chest, trying to make sense of it.
Papa was a traitor. That’s what the big kids at daycare called it when someone liked someone else. Papa liked Santa more than Daddy. And Santa lived at the North Pole. Papa was probably going to leave with him. They’d take all the toys to the North Pole and Minjun would have to go too, or maybe they’d leave him behind.
No. He wouldn’t let that happen.
Minjun wiped his face with his sleeve and climbed out of bed again. He dragged his small backpack from the closet—the blue one with dinosaurs—and started packing. His favorite toy truck went in first. Then the stuffed bear. A couple of storybooks. The special blanket Grandma knitted. He moved quietly, sniffling, little shoulders shaking. If they were moving to the North Pole, he needed his things. He had to be ready.
He sat on the floor beside his backpack when it was full, knees drawn up, staring at the door. Every creak in the house made him flinch. Papa’s laugh from downstairs earlier echoed in his head. The big red stranger’s arms around him. The kiss.
Minjun cried quietly into his bear’s fur until his eyes grew heavy again. He fell asleep sitting up, backpack clutched in his arms, dreams full of red suits and empty houses and Daddy calling for him from far away.
𝓈𝒿
Christmas morning light filtered softly through the curtains. Jungkook woke first, tall frame stretching as he grinned at Jimin still curled up beside him. “Ready to see his face?”
Jimin smiled sleepily, smaller body pressing closer for a moment. “Let’s do it.”
They crept to Minjun’s room together, Jungkook’s arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “Wake up, little man! Santa came!” Jungkook sang in a bright voice, flipping on the soft lamp.
Minjun was already awake, sitting on his bed with his backpack beside him, eyes puffy and red. He didn’t jump up. He didn’t run to them screaming with joy like they expected.
“Minjun-ah? You okay?” Jimin asked, voice gentle as he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to touch his son’s hair, but Minjun pulled back slightly.
Jungkook frowned, crouching down to be closer. His taller, broader presence usually made Minjun feel safe. “Hey buddy. Look at all those presents downstairs. Santa ate the cookies and everything.”
Minjun just stared at the floor. “I saw.”
“Saw what?” Jimin asked, exchanging a confused glance with Jungkook.
Minjun didn’t answer. He slid off the bed, grabbed his backpack, and walked downstairs slowly, shoulders slumped. The two men followed, worry growing.
The living room looked magical. Presents gleamed under the tree. The half-eaten cookies, the carrots gone. But Minjun wouldn’t go near any of it. He sat on the couch, backpack in his lap, staring at the pile like it might bite him.
“Come on, let’s open some,” Jungkook encouraged, picking up the big red truck box. “This one looks perfect for you.”
Minjun shook his head. “Don’t want it.”
Jimin knelt in front of him, heart starting to ache. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to us.”
Minjun’s lower lip trembled. He looked between them, eyes filling with tears again. When Jungkook moved closer and wrapped an arm around Jimin’s waist affectionately, Minjun suddenly launched himself forward. His small body wedged between them with surprising force, pushing at Jimin’s chest.
“No! Don’t touch Papa!” he cried, little fists hitting Jungkook’s arm weakly.
The words hung in the air. Jungkook froze, arm still half-extended. Jimin’s face went pale.
“What… what are you talking about, Minjun?” Jimin whispered.
Minjun just cried harder, refusing to explain or utter anything in reply, burying his face in Jimin’s shoulder, convinced his perfect little world was breaking apart on Christmas morning.
Jungkook knelt beside them, one large hand gently rubbing Minjun’s back, his own heart twisting painfully.
𝓈𝒿
The day after Christmas dragged on in the Jeon-Park household with a strange, heavy kind of quiet. The tree still sparkled in the living room, presents sat mostly untouched under its branches, and the leftover cookies on the plate had gone stale. Jungkook moved around the house like a gentle giant, making the spaces feel both safe and somehow too full of unspoken worry. Jimin tried to keep things light, carrying trays of snacks and warm drinks with that familiar soft energy he always had.
Minjun watched everything from behind corners and couch cushions. His little mind had turned into a detective agency overnight. Papa kissed the big red man. The one with the white beard who lives where it’s always cold and snowy. He kept replaying the scene from the stairs—the tall red stranger lifting Papa just a little, the way they smiled. It made his tummy hurt every time he thought about it.
During breakfast, Minjun poked at his pancakes with his fork, syrup pooling untouched. Jimin sat across from him, chin resting on his hand, trying to catch his son’s eye.
“Want more strawberries, baby?” Jimin asked gently.
Minjun shrugged. Then, after a long pause, he looked up with serious eyes. “Papa… do you like men with white beards?”
Jimin blinked, tilting his head. A small laugh escaped before he could stop it. “What kind of question is that?”
Minjun didn’t smile back. “Or men who live in cold places? Like… really far away cold?”
Jungkook, standing by the counter making coffee, turned around slowly. His broad shoulders shifted under his black sweater as he leaned against the edge, watching carefully but staying quiet for now.
Jimin reached over and brushed Minjun’s hair back. “I like your Daddy. He’s tall and strong and makes me laugh even when he’s being silly. Why are you asking about beards, hm?”
Minjun frowned, little detective wheels turning. Papa’s pretending. He doesn’t want me to know he likes Santa better. “Just wondering,” he mumbled. “Some people like beards. Big fluffy ones.”
The questions kept coming all morning. While they folded laundry in the living room, Minjun asked if Papa thought red was a nice color for clothes. When Jungkook carried him on his shoulders to reach a high shelf—his tall height making it easy—Minjun suddenly asked, “Daddy, are you scared of big men in red suits?”
Jungkook chuckled, lowering him back down carefully. “Not really, buddy. Why?”
Minjun just shrugged again and wandered off to his room. Inside, he started his search. He dragged a small stool to the closet and climbed up, pushing hangers aside with determination. Shirts, pants, winter coats. No red suit. He checked under the bed, behind the curtains, even in the bathroom cabinet. His small hands worked methodically, heart beating fast every time he heard footsteps in the hall.
If I find the suit, I can hide it. Then Santa can’t come back and take Papa.
Jungkook had moved the suit deeper into the garage storage the night before, sensing something was off. When Minjun tried to sneak into the garage later, saying he wanted to “look for snow boots,” Jungkook appeared right behind him, tall frame filling the doorway.
“Need help finding something, Minjun-ah?” His voice was warm but curious.
Minjun startled and shook his head quickly. “No. Just boots.”
Jungkook crouched down, arms resting on his knees to get closer to eye level. “You know you can tell me or Papa anything, right? We’re a team.”
Minjun’s eyes welled up for a second before he blinked it away. “I know.” But inside he thought, Papa already picked a new team.
The rest of the day passed in small investigations. Minjun asked Jimin during snack time if he liked climbing on balconies. Jimin looked thoroughly confused, laughing softly as he wiped crumbs from Minjun’s cheek. “Where do you get these ideas, my curious boy?”
By evening, Minjun was exhausted from his detective work but no closer to answers. He fell asleep early, clutching his bear, dreams mixing red velvet and empty houses.
Jimin and Jungkook sat on the couch later, Jimin leaning against Jungkook’s broader chest. “He’s being so strange today,” Jimin murmured. “All these random questions. Think he’s still upset about the gifts?”
Jungkook wrapped a strong arm around him, kissing the top of his head. “Probably. Kids get weird after big holidays. We’ll keep loving him through it.”
They had no idea how deep the little boy’s heartbreak ran.
𝓈𝒿
Christmas brunch with friends was supposed to be the bright spot. Jin had arrived first, arms full of side dishes, complaining loudly about the traffic in his usual dramatic way. Taehyung showed up next with his bright boxy smile and a new scarf for Minjun. A couple other close friends followed, filling the house with laughter and the smell of warm food.
The table looked beautiful. Jimin had set it with care, his smaller hands arranging flowers and napkins while Jungkook carried the heavier platters easily thanks to his height and strength.
At first, Minjun sat quietly, picking at his food. The adults tried to draw him out.
“Hey, little man, what was your favorite present?” Jin asked cheerfully.
Minjun stared at his plate. “None.”
The table quieted a bit. Jimin forced a smile. “He’s still waking up from all the excitement yesterday.”
But Minjun wasn’t done. When Taehyung playfully asked if Santa had been good to him, the boy looked straight at Jimin and said clearly, “Papa is a traitor.”
Utter silence fell over the brunch table.
Jimin’s face went pale, then flushed deep red. He looked mortified, smaller frame shrinking slightly in his seat. “Minjun, that’s not nice. Why would you say that?”
“Because you are,” Minjun said stubbornly, voice wobbling but determined.
Jungkook’s hand found Jimin’s under the table, squeezing gently. His taller presence stayed calm on the outside, but worry lines appeared on his forehead. The friends tried to laugh it off awkwardly, changing the subject to new movies and holiday plans, but the damage was done.
After the guests left—Jin pulling Jimin aside for a quiet concerned hug before leaving—Jimin sat on the couch looking lost. “I feel like I failed him somehow,” he whispered. “What did I do wrong for him to say that in front of everyone?”
“You didn’t fail anything,” Jungkook said, sitting beside him and easily pulling Jimin onto his lap despite the height difference. His muscular arms wrapped around his husband protectively. “He’s five. He’s going through something we don’t fully understand yet. We’ll figure it out.”
𝓈𝒿
The bedroom felt smaller than usual that night, the air thick with all the unsaid things that had been building since Christmas morning. Minjun sat up in bed, eyes red and puffy from days of quiet crying. Jimin perched on the edge of the mattress, his smaller frame leaning forward with gentle concern, while Jungkook stood nearby, his taller, broader build filling the doorway like a quiet anchor.
“Baby, please talk to us,” Jimin said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Minjun’s forehead. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. I promise.”
Minjun’s lower lip trembled. He clutched his stuffed bear tighter, the one with the worn ear from too many nights of comfort. For days he had held it in— the questions, the searching, the fear that his family was breaking. But something inside him finally cracked wide open.
“I saw you!” he burst out, voice loud and shaky in the quiet room. Tears spilled down his round cheeks. “You kissed him, Papa! You kissed Santa! The big red man with the white beard. He picked you up and you were smiling and now you’re gonna leave Daddy and me and go live at the North Pole!”
The words hung heavy in the air.
Jimin froze, hand still hovering near Minjun’s face. Jungkook’s dark eyes widened, his muscular shoulders tensing as the full picture slammed into place.
“Oh my god,” Jimin whispered, voice barely there. He looked up at Jungkook, and they shared that exact “oh no” moment—wide eyes, parted lips, the sudden understanding of every strange question, every tear, every refusal of gifts.
Jungkook stepped closer, crouching down beside the bed so he was closer to Minjun’s level despite his height. “Minjun-ah… you saw that?”
Minjun nodded fiercely, sobbing harder now that the secret was out. “From the stairs. Late at night. He was so big and red and you kissed him right under the mistletoe. I packed my backpack because I thought we had to move. I didn’t want to leave my toys but I didn’t want you to go without me either.”
Jimin pulled their son into his arms immediately, holding him close. His smaller body trembled a little as he rocked Minjun gently. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you saw that. That wasn’t… it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“But I saw it,” Minjun insisted through hiccups, face buried in Jimin’s shoulder. “Daddy’s supposed to be the one who kisses you. Not Santa. Santa’s supposed to bring presents and leave.”
Jungkook rubbed Minjun’s back with one large, warm hand. His voice stayed steady even though his heart was racing. “We need to show you something, okay? Something important. Will you come with us downstairs?”
Minjun hesitated, but the exhaustion and the need for things to make sense won out. He nodded slowly, still clinging to Jimin as they helped him out of bed. The three of them walked downstairs together—Jungkook leading with his tall stride, Jimin carrying Minjun on his hip, the boy’s head tucked against his papa’s neck.
The living room still held the remnants of Christmas: the big tree glowing softly, presents waiting patiently, a few scattered wrapping paper scraps on the floor. It should have felt magical. Instead it felt like the scene of a crime in Minjun’s little mind.
Jimin sat on the couch with Minjun in his lap while Jungkook disappeared toward the garage. The wait felt endless. Minjun kept sniffling, asking quiet questions like “Is Santa coming back tonight?” and “Are you mad at me for telling?”
“No, baby,” Jimin kept repeating, kissing his hair. “We’re not mad. We love you more than anything.”
When Jungkook returned, he carried a large garment bag, his muscular arms handling it easily. He set it down carefully and looked at their son with so much love it made Jimin’s chest ache.
Jungkook took his time. He wanted Minjun to see everything clearly. First, he opened the bag slowly, pulling out the deep red velvet jacket with its thick white fur trim. The pants came next, then the boots, the belt, and finally the wig and beard set. Minjun’s eyes grew wider and wider.
“That’s him,” he whispered, pointing. “That’s the red man.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook said, voice warm. “It is.”
He started putting the costume on right there in the living room, making it a whole show so Minjun could watch every step. First the pants—snug over his strong thighs. Jimin let out a small, tired laugh despite everything.
“Still fits perfectly,” Jimin noted softly, trying to keep things light.
Jungkook shot him a playful look as he pulled on the jacket, stuffing the padding into the belly section. He stood to his full tall height, adjusting the shoulders. The white beard came last, itchy as ever, along with the wig. When he turned around fully dressed, Minjun gasped.
“See?” Jungkook said in his deepest Santa voice, spreading his arms. “Ho ho ho, little one.”
Minjun stared, then slowly climbed down from Jimin’s lap. He approached cautiously, like the suit might bite. His small hand reached out and poked the padded belly cushion. It squished under his finger.
“Daddy?” he asked, voice tiny.
Jungkook knelt down, the red fabric pooling around him. Even on his knees he was almost as tall as Minjun standing. “It’s me, buddy. I put this on Christmas Eve so I could surprise you. I climbed the balcony and everything so it would feel real. Papa was waiting inside to watch. That kiss… that was just Papa kissing me because he was happy about the plan. It was me the whole time. Not a real different Santa.”
Minjun poked the belly again, then touched the beard. He tugged it gently. “It’s scratchy.”
“Very scratchy,” Jungkook agreed, smiling behind it. “I didn’t like wearing it much, but I wanted you to have the best Christmas magic.”
The little boy processed this slowly, his detective mind turning over every clue from the past few days. The questions he’d asked Papa. The searching. The tears. All of it because of a misunderstanding. Fresh tears welled up, but this time they were different—relief mixed with leftover hurt.
“You’re not leaving?” he asked, voice breaking.
“Never,” both Jimin and Jungkook answered at the same time.
Jimin joined them on the floor, his smaller frame fitting perfectly against Jungkook’s side even with the bulky costume. The three of them sat together in a messy pile of red velvet and love while Minjun worked through the rest of his questions. Why the balcony? Why the secret? Could Daddy still be Santa next year but without the kissing part?
They answered every single one patiently, laughter mixing with explanations as the tension finally broke.
𝓈𝒿
Once the suit was carefully put away again—Minjun helping fold the beard with serious focus—they decided the real Christmas needed to happen right then, even if it was a few days late.
Jungkook carried armfuls of presents to the center of the room while Jimin made fresh hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. The tree lights twinkled brighter somehow. Minjun tore into his gifts with growing excitement—the big red truck, the art supplies, new books, and the special dinosaur set he’d circled in the catalog months ago.
Each opened box brought louder giggles. He drove the truck around their legs, making engine noises, while Jungkook sat cross-legged on the floor, tall enough that Minjun kept climbing over him like a jungle gym. Jimin watched them with soft eyes, sipping his drink, heart finally settling back into place.
Later they moved to the fireplace. Jungkook built up a proper fire, his strong arms arranging the logs with ease. They spread blankets on the floor and cuddled together—Minjun in the middle, safe between his papa’s gentle hold and his daddy’s solid warmth.
“No more kissing Santa,” Minjun declared sleepily, leaning against Jungkook’s chest. “Only Daddy. Okay?”
Jimin laughed quietly. “Only Daddy. I promise.”
“Only Daddy,” Jungkook repeated, pressing a kiss to Minjun’s hair, then one to Jimin’s temple. His taller frame curved protectively around both of them.
They stayed there for hours. Talking about nothing and everything. Minjun recounted his detective adventures with dramatic flair now that the fear was gone. Jimin shared how scared he had been that he’d done something wrong as a parent. Jungkook admitted the balcony climb had been scarier than expected with the snow.
As the fire crackled low, Minjun’s breathing evened out into sleep. The two men stayed awake a little longer, wrapped around their son and each other.
“You know,” Jimin said softly, tracing patterns on Jungkook’s arm, “all the magic we tried to make… it’s really just us. Working hard to make him smile.”
Jungkook nodded, chin resting on Jimin’s head. “And we’re pretty good at it. Even when we mess up.”
The house felt warm and whole again. Outside, snow fell softly. Inside, their little family had weathered the storm. The legend of Santa was a little less shiny, but the love between the three of them felt deeper than ever.
Minjun mumbled in his sleep, something about cookies and reindeer, and both men smiled. Tomorrow they would make more memories—build snowmen, drink more cocoa, maybe even try on the Santa suit again just for laughs.
For now, they held each other close, letting the quiet magic of ordinary love settle over them like the softest blanket.