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Either Minho was a complete and total dumbass, or Jisung just wasn’t trying hard enough.
The mistletoe had been his first attempt; he could go in for a kiss without the crippling fear of rejection, and judging the reaction he got from Minho, he could either begin a fulfilling relationship with the man he’d been pining after since high school, or he could cry his heart out to Taylor Swift’s new album while stuffing himself on cheesecake.
But poor, unsuspecting Jeongin had wandered under the doorway, and Jeongin’s eggroll-flavored spit had driven that idea right out of Jisung’s mind.
Plan B was, of course, the very special Christmas remix he’d asked (read: harassed) Chan and Changbin to help him with; what could go wrong by a mashup of All I Want for Christmas and Minho’s favorite song?
The answer: a lot.
The final idea had been Felix’s- and when you let Felix decide something, that’s how you knew you’ve hit rock bottom. In a last-ditch attempt to seduce Minho, the four of them had put on a performance of Santa Baby, complete with the outfits from Mean Girls (“And thank u, next,” Hyunjin insisted on tacking on). Jisung had even worn a garter.
Minho’s only response had been, “Cute.” And then he’d walked away.
Feeling stupid(er than usual), Jisung had decided to lock himself up in his apartment and decompose, but then he’d walked in on Hyunjin and Seungmin with their dresses bunched up to their hips while Hyunjin plowed Seungmin into the bed, and had run out screaming.
Jisung had been allowed to sulk about not wooing the love of his life for a grand total of two days, and then his friends showed up unannounced on his doorstep on Christmas Eve, and he had to let them in before his neighbors filed a noise complaint. Again.
(The friends in question, unfortunately, had not gotten acquainted with doorbells. Instead of pressing the delightful little button on the door, they resorted to screaming in unison until Jisung opened it.)
Chan made the same dad joke he did every year. “Merry CHRIS-mas, ’Sung!”
Felix, because he idolized Chan, and also because he was a piece of shit, said, “FELIX Navidad!”
Jeongin led a chorus of groans. “Shut up, please.”
Both Chan and Felix looked thoroughly affronted.
Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Shut up, please, hyungs.”
“That’s more like it.” Chan ruffled Jeongin’s hair. Jeongin pretended to be annoyed, but his face was gradually turning a shade of red much like the godawful Christmas sweater he was wearing. “I brought figgy pudding!”
Jisung stepped aside to let the boys (see: spawns of Satan) in, giving Mrs. Choi from the apartment across an apologetic grin. She wrinkled her nose and hobbled inside.
Minho, as usual, was the last to step in. Despite the cursed combination of argyle-and-reindeer printed sweater he was wearing, he knocked Jisung’s breath out of his lungs.
“Hey, Jisung,” he said, smiling in that classically handsome, K-drama star way of his.
Heterosexuality was a myth when Minho existed. “Hey, hyung.” Jisung was amazed by his own articulateness when Minho was standing in front of him looking like that.
The rest of the boys were already being general nuisances and threats to humankind by the time they walked in. Jeongin was trying to climb the Christmas tree, Felix was whacking Chan around the head with a soup ladle, Hyunjin and Seungmin had somehow discovered the miserable sprig of mistletoe Jisung had taped to the window and were using it as an excuse to snog in front of everyone, and Changbin was singing soulfully along to Last Christmas.
“I’m an angel!” Jeongin screamed, finally reaching the top.
“That’s an understatement,” Chan commented offhandedly, and Jeongin promptly fell off the tree.
What Chan had brought was not, in fact, a figgy pudding, but a chocolate one, and the others had contributed likewise.
(And if Jisung might’ve had more than his fair share of the chicken Minho had brought, that was between him and God.)
Changbin forced them to sit through a marathon of Christmas movies, kicked off by The Nightmare Before Christmas. Jisung had his suspicions that Changbin’s choice had quite a lot to do with Felix being a massive wuss who was scared shitless of Jack Skellington. There was certainly a hint of satisfaction in Changbin’s smirk when Felix buried his head into his chest.
Jeongin had managed to squeeze himself between Hyunjin and Seungmin, and looked thoroughly disgruntled at the aggressive hand-holding that was going on above his head. Halfway through the movie, Chan took pity on the youngest and pulled him into his lap. Hyunjin immediately glued himself to his boyfriend, and the aggressive hand-holding resumed.
Which left Jisung next to Minho.
Minho was taking lazy sips of his eggnog, an arm slung carelessly over the back of the sofa. The lights from the television screen illuminated his face in blues and reds and greens.
By the time the credits were rolling, everyone had fallen asleep- most of them in positions that would mean hell for their spinal cords in the morning, but Jisung didn’t have the heart to wake any of them up (well, except for Seungmin, who’d nicked the piece of chicken Jisung had been eyeing. That fucker deserved chronic back pain).
He stepped over Chan and Jeongin, who were cuddling on the floor (Jisung suppressed a coo with great difficulty. It was easier to do when he remembered that Jeongin would probably knock his teeth out if he found out), and Hyunjin’s stupidly long noodle legs, tiptoeing over to the kitchen for a glass of water.
The sole window in the kitchen overlooked the bustling metropolis. Despite the late hour, the streets were packed with vehicles both leaving and entering the city, their headlamps like strings of fairy lights strung along the road. Flurries of snow swirled past the window, almost as if they were dancing in time to the muted sounds of the carols from the TV.
“Hey.”
Jisung started. Minho was standing in the doorway, sleep-ruffled and adorable. Jisung kind of wanted to cry at how soft he looked. “Hey, hyung. Thought you were asleep.”
“I was.” Minho stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe. “Got cold when you left, though.” He pouted, and images of Jisung biting that plump lip between his teeth popped into his mind unwarranted.
“Sorry.” Jisung’s throat felt very dry all of a sudden, and he took a sip of his water.
Minho shrugged, pushing off the doorframe. “’S okay, my neck was killing me anyway.”
He joined Jisung’s side. Suddenly, the world outside didn’t seem half as interesting to Jisung as Minho’s side profile lit up by the soft light from outside.
“You’re staring again.”
If Jisung’s eyes hadn’t been zeroed in on Minho’s lips, he probably would’ve missed that the elder said anything at all. It took several seconds for Minho’s words to sink in, and Jisung felt his face heating up. “Sorry.”
The corner of Minho’s lips twitched upward. “Don’t be.”
Jisung pressed his palms to his cheeks, willing for them to cool down. Outside looked like a picture postcard. Strains of All I Want for Christmas played in the background.
Minho hummed thoughtfully. “There’s mistletoe on the window.”
Jisung’s gaze drifted to the tiny parasitic plant he’d tacked onto the glass without a second’s thought. “Oh,” was all he could say.
A silence stretched between them. Jisung’s mind was going haywire- was Minho making a casual observation, or was there some underlying meaning? Was he trying to insinuate something?
When he turned back to Minho, he was already looking right back at him. “Hyung, I…” His words died in his throat.
Minho’s gaze was unwavering. “Jisung, can I kiss you?”
Jisung let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Please.”
Minho’s lips tasted like peppermint, soft and warm against Jisung’s own. Jisung’s hands had been clutching the sink behind him, but when Minho pressed closer to him, he found the courage to tangle them in Minho’s hair, running his hands through the silky strands just like he’d dreamed of doing for so long. Minho’s hands held his hips, their bodies nearly flush together, and Jisung found himself wishing there weren’t so many layers between them.
Jisung tugged on the red bobble on Minho’s sweater that made Rudolph’s nose. Minho pulled away and rested their foreheads together. For once, Jisung was thankful for his height (or, rather, lack thereof)- he loved feeling small in Minho’s arms.
“Wanna take this to the bedroom?”
Jisung almost couldn’t believe the words had left Minho’s lips, but he was more than happy to oblige.
Once inside, Jisung locked the door behind them (because unlike Hyunjin and Seungmin, voyeurism was not on his kink list). Minho was sitting on his bed as if he belonged there. He pat his thighs. “C’mon, ’Sung.”
“Wait, there’s got to be the perfect ambience.” Jisung pulled out his phone and hit shuffle.
Both of them started when a heavy bass boomed through Jisung’s speakers.
Of course; Jisung, being the fool of epic proportions he was, hadn’t deleted the wretched remix he’d made with Chan and Changbin.
“Is that… I am the Best and All I Want for Christmas?” Minho’s jaw was hanging open.
Jisung flushed a red as fierce as Rudolph’s nose. “Yeah- I’m so sorry, I’ll turn it off-”
“Leave it.” Minho bobbed his head in time with CL’s spitfire rapping layered over Mariah’s warbles. “I like it.”
Jisung had forgotten about the lacy garter belt he’d been wearing underneath his pants until Minho ran his fingers along it. He’d taken to wearing it underneath his clothing because he liked the way it looked around his thigh. Minho’s silence worried him.
“I missed this.” Minho’s voice came out in a breathy sigh.
Jisung blinked. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
Minho scoffed. “I popped a boner the minute I saw you. Why’d you think I ran away?”
This was news to Jisung. Despite his initial mortification, a grin crept up his lips. “In that case, what do you say about hurrying down the chimney tonight?”