Chapter Text
“Ain’t no way in hell I’m gonna wear that!”
Juhoon stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set in a hard, defiant line as he stared down at the coffee table.
Sitting right there, draped over the edge of a stray pizza box, was a plaid, pleated miniskirt that could barely be classified as fabric, paired with a neatly folded pair of black fishnet stockings.
“Come on, Jju,” Martin said, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he leaned back against the couch cushions. The leader adjusted the collar of his distressed denim jacket, trying to maintain his usual composure, though his eyes darted from the tiny skirt to Juhoon’s bare legs, then quickly back up. “A bet’s a bet. You dominated Mario Kart, you get the grand prize. Those are the rules we established.”
“We established that the loser wears the punishment outfit!” Juhoon shot back, pointing an accusing finger at Martin. “You guys switched the rules on me the second my Bowser crossed the finish line!”
“Actually,” Seonghyeon chimed in from his spot on the floor, resting his chin in his hand as he looked up from his phone. He offered a sharp, cat-like smile. “If you check the verbal contract, Keonho said 'the person at the top takes it all.' You assumed it was a good thing. That’s just poor reading comprehension on your part, hyung.”
“I’m older than you, stop mocking me,” Juhoon pouted, kicking a stray couch pillow. He looked around the living room for an ally, his cheeks flushed with a mix of irritation and adrenaline from the game. He looked entirely edible like this, hair messy from aggressively shaking his head, eyes bright and fierce. Yet he had absolutely no idea that the entire room had gone breathless the moment he pouted.
James - who was sitting on the single armchair with a mug of coffee in hand, took a slow sip. He looked every bit the mature, calm eldest member, completely unfazed by the chaos. But as Juhoon’s eyes landed on him, pleading for backup, James’s grip on his mug tightened just a little more.
“Hyung, tell them they’re insane,” Juhoon pleaded, stepping closer to the armchair. “Just look at the length of that thing. One breeze and it’s over for me.”
James cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over Juhoon’s lean frame, imagining the dark mesh of the fishnets against Juhoon’s thighs. Suddenly, a dangerous spike of possessiveness hit his chest. Why did the thought of Juhoon wearing that feel so… enticing? It was just an outfit, nothing more, and yet the image of him in it stuck in James’s mind longer than it should have. But the thought of Juhoon wearing that outside, where other people could see him like this?
Absolutely unacceptable!
And the fact that he even thought that way bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
"Juhoonie has a point,” James said smoothly, his voice dropping into that deep register that usually settled the group. “It’s a bit too much. Maybe we should pick a different punishment.”
“No way!” Keonho protested instantly. The youngest was practically vibrating with excitement, his puppy-like eyes wide as he looked between Juhoon and the skirt. He didn’t have a single drop of James’s restraint.
“Hyung, you’d look so pretty in it! I swear, your legs would look ridiculously good in that! They’re literally perfect for something like this. Don’t tell me you’re not curious how good you’d look. Please wear it? Just for five minutes?”
Martin choked on his own spit, his cool exterior shattering instantly. “You’re way too comfortable saying that out loud!" He snapped, though his face was rapidly turning pink. He glanced at Juhoon, his voice softening into a defensive cough. “I mean… it’s not like it wouldn't suit him. Juhoonie can pull off anything.”
Juhoon blinked, completely missing the sudden heavy tension in the room. He just rolled his eyes. “I can pull off oversized hoodies and sweatpants, Martin. Not some schoolgirl cosplay.”
“I think you would look devastating,” Seonghyeon murmured, his sharp tongue faltering for just a second as he stared at Juhoon’s waist. He quickly recovered, tilting his head with a lazy smirk. “But if you’re too scared of a little nylon, Juhoon-ssi, we can always pretend you didn’t win.”
“I am not scared!” Juhoon scoffed, his pride successfully poked. He snatched the miniskirt off the table, holding it up by the waistband. It was ridiculously small. As Juhoon held it up against his waist to gauge the size, a suffocating silence fell over the living room.
The hemline didn't even reach mid-thigh.
Keonho’s jaw practically hit the floor, his ears turning bright red as his brain completely short-circuited. “Oh,” the youngest squeaked out, his unfiltered thoughts tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.“Oh wow. Suddenly I really, really want to see you in that. Like, a lot.”
“Keonho, shut up,” James ordered, his voice suddenly sharp as he set his coffee mug down with a loud clack. His calm demeanor was officially compromised. He glared at the skirt, then at the way Juhoon’s hips looked even just holding it up. “Put it down, Juhoon.”
“See? James hyung agrees with me,” Juhoon said triumphantly, completely oblivious to the fact that James looked ready to fight anyone who stared too long. Juhoon tossed the skirt back onto the pizza box.
“I’m not wearing it.”
“Coward,” Martin teased, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He was busy staring at the floor, trying to get his heart rate under control because the mental image of Juhoon in fishnets was currently doing loop-de-loops in his brain. “Where’s that legendary Juhoon confidence?”
“My confidence doesn't include catching a cold in my nether regions,” Juhoon shot back, crossing his arms again, looking incredibly satisfied with his defense.
He stood in the center of the room, looking proud and utterly breathtaking, entirely unaware that all four of his friends were currently trapped in a silent, sweating panic over just how good a joke punishment could actually be.
✦✦✦
The bathroom door stayed shut for exactly twelve minutes.
Inside the living room, the silence was heavy enough to choke on. No one was looking at each other. Keonho was aggressively tapping his foot against the leg of the coffee table, his eyes glued to the hallway. Martin had picked up his guitar and was mindlessly tuning the same string over and over again, the sharp ping-ping-ping echoing through the room. Seonghyeon was scrolling through his phone so fast the screen was just a blur of colors, and James sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the empty doorway with unreadable expression.
“He’s taking his sweet time,” Keonho whispered dramatically. “Do you think the fishnets tore? What if he gave up midway?”
“He won’t give up,” Seonghyeon said, not looking up from his phone.“Juhoon would rather die than let Martin call him a coward for the rest of the week. His ego would never allow it."
“Hey, I didn’t think he’d actually do it!” Martin muttered, finally dropping his hand from the guitar pegs. He rubbed the back of his neck, his leather bracelets clinking. “I thought he would just make us order chicken to buy his way out of it.”
James didn’t say anything. He just uncrossed his legs, his posture stiffening as the sound of a doorknob clicking open echoed from the back corridor.
“Alright, look,” Juhoon’s voice preceded him, loud and dripping with exasperation. “If any of you laugh, I’m gonna throw the rest of the pizza out the window. And I’m not paying for the next three movie nights.”
The scuff of socks on the hardwood floor signaled his approach. When Juhoon finally stepped into the warm light of the living room, the air left the space entirely.
It wasn’t funny anymore.
One look at each other was enough for all four of them to realize the same thing at the exact same time, that Juhoon was being completely serious.
Juhoon stood there, adjusting the waistband of the high-waisted, pleated plaid skirt. Since he was tall and lean, the hemline sat dangerously high on his thighs, emphasizing the long, clean lines of his legs. The black fishnet stockings clung perfectly to his skin, disappearing up under the pleats and drawing undivided attention to the sheer length of him. He hadn't changed his top; he was still wearing his oversized, faded black vintage t-shirt, which fell loosely over his hips, partially covering the top of the skirt and making the whole outfit look maddeningly effortless.
Juhoon gave an annoyed huff, tugging at the hem. “See? I told you it’s too short. The waistband is fine, but the material is cheap. It’s scratchy.”
The statement was met with nothing but silence.
Keonho was the first to react. He actually let out a faint whimpering sound in the back of his throat, his face instantly flushing a brilliant crimson from his neck up to his ears. He looked like he had just seen a ghost, or an angel, or both.
Martin’s fingers stopped moving against the neck of his guitar. His carefully maintained punk-rock composure had completely shattered. He stared at Juhoon, eyes helplessly following the fishnets, the way they disappeared beneath the oversized shirt. Whatever words he had been about to say vanished before they ever reached his mouth.
Seonghyeon’s phone slipped from his hand and landed on the carpet with a quiet thud. He made no move to pick it up. His sharp, cat-like eyes had gone wide, a rare flush creeping across his cheekbones as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat a little too aggressively.
“Why are you all staring at me like I grew a second head?” Juhoon asked, completely oblivious. He shifted his weight, putting one hand on his hip. The movement made the skirt sway slightly. “Is it crooked? Tell me it’s at least straight.”
James was the only one who didn’t look away.
Usually, he would have been the first to regain control, the one who kept everyone else in check. But the calm, mature older brother persona he always carried was nowhere to be found. His dark eyes remained fixed, his usual composure replaced by something far more difficult to hide.
The brief glimpse of bare skin between the top of the fishnets and the hem of the skirt had caught his attention, and the tension in his jaw betrayed him. Slowly, James rose from his armchair.
“Hyung?” Juhoon blinked, tilting his head.
James walked over and picked up a large, thick knitted throw blanket from the back of the couch, and stepped right into Juhoon’s personal space. Without a word, he wrapped the blanket firmly around Juhoon’s waist, overlapping it securely and tucking it in so that everything from the waist down was completely covered.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Juhoon complained, though he didn't pull away, used to James’s fussing.
“It’s drafty in here,” James said, his voice unusually rough and deep. He kept his hands on Juhoon’s shoulders for a beat longer than necessary, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of Juhoon’s t-shirt before he forced himself to step back. “And the couch leather is cold. You’ll get uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine, hyung, it’s literally June,” Juhoon laughed. He loose-fitted the blanket a bit so he could sit down on the floor next to Seonghyeon. “But thanks, at least someone is looking out for my comfort instead of just staring at me.” He nudged Seonghyeon with his elbow. “Right, Seonghyeonie? Tell Martin he owes me an apology for making me wear cheap nylon.”
Seonghyeon stiffened as Juhoon’s shoulder brushed against his. He looked down at his own knees, his sharp tongue completely failing him. “Yeah... sure, whatever. You… it doesn’t look bad. Shut up.”
“Wow, high praise from the critic,” Juhoon teased, leaning back on his hands.
“Hyung,” Keonho choked out, finally finding his voice, though he looked like he was about to combust. He was staring at the small section of fishnet stocking still visible near Juhoon’s ankles where the blanket didn't reach. “You look… really, really pretty. Like, incredibly pretty. If you wore that outside, I think I’d have to fight three different guys just walking down the street.”
Juhoon burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “Bro, you’re losing your mind over a skirt? You guys are being so weird today.” He looked over at Martin, who was still staring at the floor, aggressively rubbing his own neck. “What about you, leader? Cat got your tongue? Usually, you’re full of commentary.”
Martin lifted his gaze, his brown eyes turbulent as he tried to regain his footing. He scoffed though his ears were burning red. “I just… realize that I have terrible taste in joke punishments. I thought it would be funny. You’re so... annoying, Jju. You ruined the joke by not looking ridiculous.”
“So I look good?” Juhoon smirked, leaning forward, delighted by his own perceived victory. “Admit it. I won the bet and I look fantastic.”
“Don’t push it,” Martin muttered, his voice dropping into a breathless mumble as he looked at Juhoon’s smiling face. “Just… keep the blanket on.”
“Seriously,” Seonghyeon muttered, finally picking up his phone but keeping his eyes firmly on the screen, his cheeks still pink. “Some of us are trying to maintain our sanity.”
Juhoon just rolled his eyes, adjusting the blanket around his legs and reaching for a remaining slice of pizza. “You guys are dramatic. It’s just fabric. Now, who’s up for another round of Mario Kart? I need to defend my title.”
As Juhoon happily bit into his pizza, entirely at peace with the world, the other four exchanged a panicked look across the room. The bet was over, but the collective realization that they were all hopelessly, desperately doomed had just begun.
To be continue...