Work Text:
☾
The woman standing at front-and-center stage holds back her smile, red lips tight and eyes sparkling. She gazes out over the large crowd gathered before her—a whole sea of brilliant minds and impassioned hearts, hundreds of lives dedicated to one cause—and is too moved to continue her speech for a moment. Her audience sits quietly, holding bated breaths, waiting attentively for her final remarks.
Park Jimin, seated at the frontmost table positioned right beneath the podium, can feel the atmosphere in his chest like a flower seconds before it blooms.
The company holiday party is an emotional night; it is every year.
“We really are so lucky to be joined here together to celebrate the many accomplishments of such a talented, hardworking team,” she says finally, tilting a little to one side as if to contain herself. “I don’t speak lightly when I say that I am so incredibly proud of all that we have managed to do together for a cause we all hold so close to our hearts. Here’s to another year of equal rights for all, and many more years to come. Congratulations, everyone. Please raise your glasses in a toast to yourselves. You’ve earned this celebration tonight and then some.”
With that, the event hall bursts into thunderous applause, a crescendo of whistles and loud hoots, and the tinkling of cheersing glasses as the crowd takes the message to heart. Jimin and his team, too, all clink their flutes of champagne together over the center of their table, then turn to one another to cheers individually. Jimin turns first to his team leader seated to his left—Choi Jong-Yol, a kind-faced beta, stout and warm-hearted—and shares a smile and slight bow of their heads with him as their glasses come together. The table is then a tangle of hands reaching to touch drinks until they each have had their chance to share in the moment with one another.
The annual holiday party is something Jimin looks forward to every year and has ever since his start with the company a little over four years ago now. Back then, it was his first time witnessing the entirety of the project come together, and seeing everyone’s faces, the mingling conversations, the long list of awards won, and the all-out commitment to the lavishness of the celebration had lit a fire under him. For Jimin, it was a dream come true to be hired right out of school to work for the cause he’d cared so much for as someone who had presented early as an omega in a society that, for so long, overlooked people like him; but it was something else entirely to see that so many others were working alongside him with the very same dream: a world where everyone was equal, no matter their rank. In just the last four years, Jimin saw for himself the impact of the work that they did together to ensure subgender rights for all—both in his day-to-day life and within the company itself, which had nearly doubled in size in just a matter of a few years.
“What a speech,” Kim Do-Hyun, one of Jimin’s team members, commends, setting his glass back down onto the table. He’s one of two alphas on Jimin’s eight-person team, and is one of the most traditionally-presenting alphas Jimin has met within the company. Do-Hyun is tall and broad-shouldered, so densely-muscled that his biceps and chest bulge against his fitted suit. His dark hair is always neatly greased back, parted perfectly, and cut short to compliment his strong features. That being said though, Do-Hyun often doesn’t conduct himself as such, speaking softly and smiling broadly as he speaks.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Jong-Yol concurs, nodding as he, too, sets his now-empty glass back down. He then adds, “I think this might be the best champagne they’ve had in years.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Do-hyun quips good-naturedly, and the whole table erupts with laughter. It’s practically a tradition for Jong-Yol to be far more drunk than the rest of the team at events like these. His excuse is always the same; he says he gives the most heart-felt praise when he’s intoxicated, which, in Jimin’s experience, is actually true. The year prior, Jong-Yol had deadlocked him in a seemingly endless conversation during which Jong-Yol praised Jimin for every little accomplishment he’d made that last year, down to the change he’d made to his email signature from a plain ‘regards’ to a more personable ‘kind regards.’
“Well, on that note,” Jong-Yol says, clapping his hands together, “shall we keep the celebrations going? Does anyone need to grab another drink from the bar before we exchange our last gifts and reveal our Secret Santa’s?”
Perhaps the only tradition more well-loved on Jimin’s team than the holiday party itself is their Secret Santa exchange. It started many years ago, more than a decade before Jimin had even joined the project. Every November, their team gets together to draw names for whom each person will leave anonymous gifts for for the next month. And each year, the presents always start out small—little candies, convenience store trinkets, and cryptic, funny notes—but then escalate as time wears on and people become more eager to one-up one another. By the third or fourth week of the exchange, it’s pretty common-place for at least one team member to walk into the office on any given morning to find their entire desk wrapped with gift paper or covered in hand-made snowflakes or even just doused with glitter.
In Jimin’s case though, he almost always finds himself needing to go all-out less to keep up with the others and moreso to make up for spoiling his recipient’s fun too early on by accidentally revealing his identity. In fact, he was notorious for it, somehow managing to let it slip every single year without fail thus far—this year being no exception.
A few members of Jimin’s team politely excuse themselves on a trip to the bar—with Jong-Yol leading the way, of course. Before they can fully disappear into the crowd and toward the bar, Do-hyun throws a glance back over the table, spotting Jimin still sitting in his seat. He makes a surprised face, glancing at the empty champagne flute beside Jimin’s folded hands, and beckons for Jimin to tag along.
But Jimin just gives him a polite smile and shakes his head.
It was probably against Jimin’s better judgment to even have had that little bit of champagne. If he thinks about it too hard, he can practically feel the bubbles and alcohol mingling in his stomach with his steadily-growing nerves—which is sure to be a terrible combination.
It doesn’t take long for Jimin’s team to reappear from the throng of people now trickling toward the bar with their new drinks in hand. Laughing amongst themselves, they all return to their seats, looking bright-faced and ready for what is sure to be a long night ahead of them all.
Once everyone has settled in, Kang Sunghyun, another of the betas on Jimin’s team, clears his throat.
“I’d like to go first,” he says, glancing pointedly at Jimin. Sunghyun knows his Secret Santa’s identity well by now, as does the rest of the team. Jimin had, of course, blatantly outed himself one morning while explaining why he’d arrived at the office thirty-minutes late, accidentally rehashing too many details of the plight he’d gone through to find a certain kind of candy Sunghyun had requested specifically because it’s his daughter’s favorite. “If that’s okay, Jimin-ssi?”
Jimin laughs at himself, one hand flying to cover his mouth as he does. The table laughs with him, too; he’d been the butt of their jokes for weeks now for his well-intentioned mistake. Accepting defeat, Jimin nods his head and slides his final gift across the table for Sunghyun to open.
“How’d you know?” Jimin jokes. And everyone laughs again.
Even though Jimin had long-ago outed himself, it didn’t stop him from going all-out with his gifts. Sunghyun graciously accepts Jimin’s present—a little wicker basket filled with individually-wrapped presents, many of which were gifts Sunghyun requested with his daughter and wife in mind. Jimin watches on, his heart warming, as Sunghyun unwraps his new throw blanket (in bright pink, his daughter’s favorite color), a bottle of his wife’s preferred brand of soju, three tickets to a lights festival to be used over their holiday vacation, and an extra-large bag of his daughter’s favorite candy, which makes everyone laugh all over again as the gift paper is pulled away.
“Alright, well, well done, Jimin-ssi,” Jong-Yol says, leaning back and clapping a hand down on Jimin’s shoulder—a little too hard, a telltale sign of how many drinks he must have already had by now.
“Yes, thank you so much,” Sunghyun agrees, still clutching the bag of candy like it’s the best gift he’s ever received. And perhaps it is, considering how much of a headache it was for Jimin to find. At least he could save Sunghyun the struggle. “My daughter is never going to sleep again from all this sugar.”
Everyone laughs at that, including Jimin, as Sunghyun bows his head one more time in thanks.
Jong-Yol, hand still on Jimin’s shoulder, jostles him good-naturedly, the way an uncle would their nephew. He beams at Jimin as he says, “That means it’s Jimin-ssi’s turn to take his guess now, right? I must be getting old. I’m forgetting how these things work. Or do we just go around the table?”
“It’s Jimin-ssi’s turn,” a voice confirms, and Jimin’s stomach does a flip at the sound of it. Yet, he doesn’t dare turn to look toward the person sitting in the seat to his right, despite the way his heartbeat picks up at the thought of meeting the alpha’s eyes.
Though Jimin’s Secret Santa never outright revealed themself, Jimin has practically known from the very beginning, from the very first gift he’d found sitting on his desk that Jeon Jungkook was to blame.
On the first morning of work after they’d drawn names, Jimin had arrived at the office before anyone else. He had an early morning meeting with an international client, and stumbled into the building at a bright-and-early 6:30 A.M. with an extra large coffee in one hand and his computer bag in the other. All but the emergency lights were off when Jimin swiped himself onto his floor, pushing open one of the double doors with his elbow and shuffling his way to his desk at the back of the room along the floor-to-ceiling windows which overlooked the city below. He rounded the waist-high divider that framed his desk, ready to drop into his seat and drown himself in as much caffeine as he could before he hopped onto his scheduled call—but was surprised to find a little brown box tied off with deep-red ribbon waiting for him, sitting just to one side of his keyboard.
Jimin blinked at it, having momentarily forgotten about the gift exchange in his morning rush. Slowly, he set his things down—bag on his desk, coffee beside his monitor, shrugging off his jacket to drape over the back of his chair—eyes never leaving the little brown box. Suddenly wide-awake, Jimin sat himself down in his chair, pulling the gift toward him. Excitedly, he tugged the bow off in one go and then lifted off the lid.
And that’s when Jimin knew. Immediately.
Inside the box was a little white card. On it, was a typed message in shiny black ink which read:
For Jimin-ssi
From, Your Secret Santa
With shaky fingers, Jimin lifted the little card from the box, his heart in his throat as he revealed what was beneath it: a little silver charm of a sun eclipsed by the moon. The reference came to mind immediately:
A little over a month before that, Jimin had pulled a whole week of sixteen-hour shifts trying to finish off an important deliverable. The client was one of Jimin’s least favorites to work with—not only were they insatiable, never satisfied with any final result or without a thousand unanswerable questions, but they were also oftentimes flat-out rude. A number of times that week, Jimin had had to make a beeline for the men’s restroom to pat his face down with water to keep from publicly crying out of frustration.
The night before his outputs were due, Jimin was in the office until the very last moment. He blinked sleepily at the clock on the far wall showing an ugly 11:32 P.M., asking himself for the thousandth time that night why he hadn’t just returned home after university to work at his father’s café. Who needs dreams and aspirations of their own anyway?
But the exact moment his mind wandered to that place again, the man in the seat next to him, as if he knew exactly what Jimin was thinking, reached out to rub his hand comfortingly across Jimin’s shoulders.
“We got this, hyung,” Jungkook said. “I just finished your excel sheet. Doesn’t it look nice? I’ll send it over now. Then it’s all wrapped up, right?”
Jungkook was the newest member to their team. He, like Jimin, was hired right out of school—though for Jungkook, graduate school—and he brought with him the can-do, go-getter attitude that was much appreciated in any new hire. Except, Jungkook was so much more than just that.
At first, Jimin had been wary of him—just like he was of any new alpha in the office—but Jungkook, if nothing else, was a hard man to dislike for very long. He was smart, highly educated from one of the top universities in Seoul, and had the attention to detail, problem-solving skills, and plethora of new ideas to show for it. Eager for new opportunities, Jungkook leapt at any and all chances to stick his nose in something to do, even on days when that was little more than making a run across the street to the nearby café to grab coffee for the group. His charisma practically lit up the entire floor as Jungkook quickly bloomed into a playful, high-energy young professional.
And, of course, Jungkook was also startlingly handsome, though Jimin tried not to think about that too much.
That late night at the office, Jungkook had offered to stay after hours with Jimin to help him wrap up his deliverable. It wasn’t even on Jungkook’s plate of responsibilities, nor had Jungkook been short on work of his own, but over the half-year he had been on the team, Jimin and Jungkook had grown a little bit inseparable—so if Jimin was going to stay late, so was Jungkook.
“I can’t believe you’re still here,” Jimin said. He dragged his tired eyes away from the clock to watch Jungkook as he dropped the excel file into an email with the subject ‘The Deed Has Been Done,’ humming quietly to himself as he did. “I feel bad for keeping you so late.”
“You didn’t keep me,” Jungkook replied immediately, brow knitting in concern but eyes never leaving his computer screen. “I wanted to be here. You don’t need to do this all by yourself.” He reached out to rub at Jimin’s neck again with one hand as he used his mouse to navigate to the top of his email with the other. Their growing habit of physical touch was most definitely too lax for an office setting, but there was more than likely no one left in the whole building but the two of them to care that night.
So Jimin let himself enjoy it.
Jimin watched tiredly as Jungkook put the finishing touches on his email to Jimin and hit send. Immediately, the email notification appeared on Jimin’s screen. He leaned forward in his seat, clicking on the little banner before it could disappear and watched as the screen lit up white and the email opened:
☾,
PFA.
FIGHTING!!!
- ☼
The little charm couldn’t have been from anyone else.
And, as if Jimin needed any further confirmation, as he stared at the little silver sun and moon in his shaking hands, his heart pounding mercilessly in his chest, the sound of someone clearing their throat behind Jimin nearly killed him on the spot.
“Good morning,” Jungkook said as Jimin whipped around in his chair to look at him. Jungkook was smirking at him, albeit a bit shyly. He looked as handsome as ever in his ironed white button-down and tailored slacks with his long hair brushed back from his face. He had a coffee mug in one hand, his silver watch glinting brightly as he lifted his drink to his mouth to take a small sip.
Jimin just stared at him in disbelief.
Jungkook cleared his throat, his face breaking out into a guilty smile. “Did your Secret Santa leave you something?”
It was the same guilty smile Jungkook wore the night he gave Jimin his very last gift, too.
Just a week before the holiday party, Jungkook invited Jimin over to bake Christmas cookies—a plan they’d decided on while bored at the office one late-November afternoon as they flicked paper balls back and forth across their neighboring desks for fun. Later that week, they spent an entire Friday night in the low-lighting of Jungkook’s kitchen, fighting over cookie-cutters and swiping at each other with flour and tubed icing and edible glitter. Their cookies had turned out a bit pitiful-looking with their distracted decorating skills, but they tasted heavenly.
As Jimin pulled on his boots to leave that night, one hand braced on the wall to hold himself steady as he did, Jungkook shuffled into the entryway, clearly holding something behind his back. He watched Jimin with that nervous, guilty smile on his face, and Jimin couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“What?” he asked, righting himself as he shoved his heel down into his boot. He cocked his head at the alpha, eyes sparkling.
Jungkook just shrugged, his grin growing wide enough to show his teeth.
“You look like a mess,” he said, sniffling and rubbing at his nose in an attempt to disguise a little laugh.
Jimin scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “Gee, thanks. I wonder whose fault that might be.”
“You started it,” Jungkook accused, hand returning behind his back again. He fussed with whatever he was holding, squirming a little as he regripped it.
“You look a little too proud to be telling lies,” Jimin fired back light-heartedly. Jungkook had been the one to start their mini-food fight, swiping a line of icing down Jimin’s nose. Granted, Jimin did immediately retaliate with a handprint of flour to the front-pocket of Jungkook’s long-sleeve t-shirt, and maybe that was a little bit of overkill, but Jungkook brought that upon himself.
“I’m not a liar,” Jungkook insisted, and Jimin clicked his tongue.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Jimin sing-songed, pulling open the door to the coat closet in search of his jacket. He found it easily, pulling it from the hanger by the sleeve, but before he could shrug it on, Jungkook stopped him with a hand on his elbow.
“You should take these” Jungkook blurted, revealing what he’d held behind his back. “If you want, I mean. I don’t want you to have to go home in dirty clothes”
“ Oh. ”
A shock of emotion zipped through Jimin, too many at once for him to distinguish each one. He looked down at clothes Jungkook held in his hands—a large printed t-shirt, a fuzzy green sweater, and a pair of gray sweatpants—like he’d never seen anything like them before.
“You can keep them too,” Jungkook added. “They’re mine, but… consider them a gift.”
Jimin blinked, too stunned to move. It was a huge deal for an alpha to give an omega clothes—especially their clothes—and surely Jungkook knew that. The shiny look in the alpha’s eyes when Jimin dared to look up at him seemed to confirm that Jungkook did; he knew exactly what he was doing.
Before Jungkook could change his mind, Jimin accepted the clothes from the alpha, bowing his head slightly. Despite his voice feeling stuck in his throat, Jimin managed to dismiss himself to the bathroom to change. When he stepped back out—his poor heart pounding mercilessly and now drowning in fabric—Jungkook seemed to be waiting for him, his head snapping up at the sound of the door opening. The wide-eyed look on his face made Jimin’s stomach swoop, though he shoved the feeling down as best he could.
They said their goodbyes at the door, Jimin standing in the hallway with his hands folded in front of him. His heart still hammering in his chest, it quicked as Jungkook slowly let the door close between them, peeking at Jimin through the crack as he did.
“Jungkook?”
Before the door could close fully, it stopped. Jungkook carefully pulled it back open again, leaning his head on the doorframe, his gaze curious and soft. “Mhm?”
For a moment, Jimin considered just asking him. Point-blank, right there. Are you my Secret Santa? Am I crazy? Do you feel the way I do? Surely Jungkook did after all of this. Months of this. All of their time spent together. Every little moment. Surely Jungkook’s wolf howled at him, just the same as Jimin’s was then.
Yet, Jimin couldn’t quite let himself think like that. It was too risky, too unprofessional of him to push their boundaries any farther than they already did. He couldn’t afford to lose such a good thing.
Instead, Jimin just bows a little, hands still clasped together in front of him.
“Thank you, Jungkook.”
And when Jungkook smiles, his eyes are starry again.
“Goodnight, Jimin-hyung.”
Presently, heat rises to Jimin’s cheeks as he finally dares to glance at Jungkook in the seat to his right. His heart stutters when he looks to find Jungkook already gazing back at him with a glimmer in his dark eyes. He is so undeniably handsome tonight—full black suit, dark curls tied up neatly, silver jewelry glinting in the soft overhead twinkling lights, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It requires all of Jimin’s strength to keep from melting on the spot.
“I have… my suspicions,” Jimin says slowly, pulling his eyes from Jungkook’s face. He knows his own must be turning pink under the watchful eyes of his other team members, all waiting eagerly for him to make his guess. Heart in his throat and hands clasped tightly in his lap, Jimin braces himself to say it.
“And?” Jong-Yol baits, earning him a few chuckles from around the table—Jimin included.
“I think it’s Jungkook-ssi,” Jimin finally says with a shy smile, the rush of adrenaline he feels giving him just enough confidence to meet Jungkook’s eyes after he does. And, for a moment, Jimin feels like he’s on top of the world—like all of these feelings that have snowballed between them over the last month, these last few months, might finally have somewhere to go.
That is, until he sees the flash of emotion across Jungkook’s face—one that Jimin recognizes immediately.
Embarrassment.
Before Jimin has time to process any further, he faintly hears someone clear their throat from across the table, drawing Jimin’s quickly-tunneling attention.
“Ah, Jimin-ssi,” Do-Hyun interjects, his voice deep and warm like honey. It immediately sends a chill down Jimin’s spine. Do-Hyun laughs a little as he extends the gift in his hands out toward Jimin, eyes crinkled in an excited smile. “Your Secret Santa was actually me,” he corrects. He then laughs a little, sounding baffled. “I thought for sure you already knew. I didn’t think I did that great of a job of hiding it. And —and, I also realized while we were sitting here that I’d wrapped this final gift in the same paper I’d used for all of my previous gifts to you. I was sure that would out me if I hadn’t already done it myself.”
For a moment, Jimin is too stunned to speak or even to move to reach for the gift still lingering in the space between them. Jimin forces his eyes from Do-Hyun’s face to the box in the alpha’s hands. It’s patterned with the most obnoxious wrapping paper Jimin has ever seen—stripes of various Christmas-themed objects on a bright yellow background. Beady-eyed snowmen, ugly Christmas sweaters, suspiciously-shaped puddings, reindeer with very unsettling smiles.
Jimin can’t tell if it’s meant to be a gag-gift wrapping of sorts or if it was chosen sincerely. Either way, it’s unforgettable—yet entirely unfamiliar to him.
“Oh,” Jimin says, eyes flicking nervously to his teammates as he finally accepts the gift from Do-Hyun. He half expects someone to call off the joke, to be the first one to laugh, to wave their hands across the center of the table to stop the exchange and tell Jimin that he was right afterall. Instead though, no one else seems to be even remotely rattled. They all watch on with unwavering excitement, pleasant smiles on their faces.
That is, except for Jungkook.
Jungkook’s ears are bright red, his jaw clenched and one hand now covering his mouth. He deliberately looks away from Jimin, eyes trained off in the distance somewhere as Jimin’s heart sinks like a pit in his stomach.
Jimin moves robotically, ripping his attention from Jungkook and setting the present down on the table in front of him. He stares at the box like it’s a completely foreign object. What is he supposed to do? Unwrap it? Jimin suddenly feels like his world is ending and he’s supposed to just… unwrap this gift?
The floor feels like it’s slowly crumbling underneath Jimin—and some part of him wishes it really would. He was so sure that Jungkook was the one leaving him gifts. No one else in the office knew him—or them , for that matter—well enough to gift him such thoughtful things. The eclipse charm, a bouquet of Christmas-colored roses, the early morning he entered the office to find his favorite takeout breakfast sitting in the middle of his desk, the countless notes with poems or songs typed out at the end.
And this feeling is only strengthened when Jimin opens the box, hands shaking, to reveal a pair of wool ankle socks, a bag of M&M’s, and an aggressively-tropical candle that would surely suffocate Jimin if left lit for more than a few minutes. It’s entirely impersonal.
Jimin bows deeply in thanks anyway, hoping that Do-Hyun believes him.
For the rest of the rounds, Jimin is too overwhelmed with some unnamable emotion to do much more than look on quietly as the rest of his team members guess their Secret Santa’s with ease. Everyone laughs and claps as they go, passing gifts across the table, exchanging smiles, pointing accusing fingers. Even Jungkook’s true recipient—Minji, another Omega on their team, with perfectly-styled long, dark hair and big, doll-eyes—smiles knowingly at Jungkook as she makes her correct guess.
Jong-Yol is the last at the table to go, and he makes a show of hemming and hawing over identifying his Secret Santa despite Sunghyun being the only one at the table with an unopened gift sitting in front of him. Jong-Yol crosses his fingers and squeezes his eyes shut as he squeaks out a quick “Sunghyun-ssi” as if he has any chance of being wrong. Still, everyone claps loudly for him as Sunghyun passes his present over, and then there’s another round of applause when Jong-Yol pronounces their exchange complete.
Jimin, so caught up in his thoughts, doesn’t even notice his team members dismissing themselves to mingle with other coworkers or grab another drink at the bar. His mind reruns through the same maze of thoughts, hitting the same dead-ends, wondering desperately where he went wrong.
It’s so much less that Jimin had guessed incorrectly, and so much more that this moment changed everything. Had Jimin read it all wrong? The regretful look on Jungkook’s face when Jimin had said his name made him sure of it—and sick to his stomach as the image replays over and over in Jimin’s head.
It isn’t until Jungkook, now standing behind Jimin's chair, sets his hand gently on Jimin’s shoulder that Jimin is startled from his vortex of thought. He looks up at Jungkook and still sees some remorse in the alpha’s face, seemingly soured now with time.
Things are different now, even as Jungkook offers, “Do you want another drink? Do you want me to grab something for you when I go?”
Jimin shakes his head, another wave of emotion rearing inside of him at the waiver somewhere in Jungkook’s voice. Jimin’s shoulder practically burns under Jungkook’s touch, so he shrugs the alpha off as he bunches the napkin across his lap into a ball with his hands. Legs weak, Jimin maneuvers to his feet, stomach suddenly swooping, and tosses the napkin onto the tabletop.
“I think—” Jimin starts, clearing his throat and pushing in his chair. He reaches up to push back his hair and notices how hard his hands tremble. Before he can think better of it, he throws a glance over his shoulder at Jungkook to see if he noticed—and immediately regrets it when he sees the obvious concern in Jungkook’s eyes. “I think I need to leave.”
“Oh,” Jungkook says, taking a step back as Jimin pulls his jacket from off his seat back and shrugs it onto his shoulders. He fixes the sleeves as he sees Jungkook, from the corner of his vision, reaching for his jacket, too. “Jimin—”
“I don’t feel very well,” Jimin stops him. The space between them suddenly feels both suffocatingly small but also like an endless wasteland. “I’m–I think I’ll just say some goodbyes and head out.”
“Oh, o-okay,” Jungkook stutters, and Jimin doesn’t dare to look back in his direction before making a beeline for the nearest opening in the crowd still lingering around the bar.
The emotion Jimin couldn’t name before now leaves a bitter taste in his mouth; it’s one he had never felt so deeply before. The feeling of rejection is now so potent that Jimin can feel it like a knife in his gut. It stings and aches and burns all at once, spreading up from his gut and into his chest, catching in his throat.
Now, as Jimin takes a few directionless steps through the crowd, he realizes that the feeling is sharp and deep enough to wake his wolf, which stirs and stretches inside of him, no longer at bay from the scent-blockers Jimin had taken, as was typical of corporate expectations.
Suddenly, Jimin now has a time-limit before his scent—surely burnt with Jimin’s whirlwind of emotion—envelopes him.
Despite the swarm of bodies, Jimin luckily spots his manager quite easily and pushes that way through the crowd. He mentally braces himself as he taps Jong-Yol on the shoulder to politely intervene on the conversation the beta is engrossed with. He otherwise wouldn’t, but Jimin can practically feel his internal clock ticking now with each quiet whine of his wolf.
Jimin makes his rounds, managing to find each and every one of his team members with relative ease despite the constant movement of bodies and the way the world seems to shrink quickly around him. They all seemed to be surprised by his early departure, knowing how much Jimin loves this event and this time of year, but they don’t argue—not even his friend from his cohort, Taehyung, nor his boyfriend Yoongi, who stand side-by-side at the bar in their matching head-to-toe white suits. There’s less than an inch of space between Yoongi and Taehyung, stuck together like magnets and even moving as one as they notice Jimin waving at them from across the crowd over the brims of their drinks. Typically they’d never let Jimin leave a work function like this—with endless networking opportunities, high-emotions, and free booze—so easily, but they’re his closest friends nowadays; perhaps they can sense that there’s something wrong, especially since Jimin can’t even bring himself to give them a proper goodbye.
Yoongi simply nods his head and Taehyung lifts his glass in return. And Jimin can finally make a break for the exit.
Jimin hopes he holds himself with some semblance of self-control as he focuses on the grand staircase leading out of the event hall. The cacophony of voices around him seems to crescendo as he goes, echoing so loudly in his ears that it almost drowns out the thoughts running through Jimin’s head—the Christmas roses as they brown where they sit on Jimin’s nightstand, every time Jungkook’s hand has ever pulled away from him, how embarrassing it is now that Jimin has slept with the sweatshirt Jungkook ‘gifted’ to him ever since that night. What did it all mean now, if anything?
Jimin shakes his head, apologizing as he accidentally clips shoulders with someone just before he clears the crowd.
Then, just before Jimin can take his first step down the stairs, someone catches him by the arm, pulling him to a stop.
“Jimin-ssi.”
Jungkook’s eyes are soft, but wide with worry as they dart around Jimin’s face. The grip he has on Jimin’s arm, though, burns, despite how carefully he seems to hold Jimin, the touch just too much.
Jimin feels as though he might faint.
“Can we talk?” Jungkook asks, but Jimin immediately shakes his head. He needs to leave—now .
“Jungkook, I—”
“Please,” he insists, his grip on Jimin’s elbow tightening a little. It’s enough to startle Jimin and he pulls away from the alpha’s hold. “Please. Just for a moment. I need to talk to you.”
“I-It’s really not a good time—”
“Have you called a cab already? At least let me wait outside with you. Or walk you down to the street.”
Jimin hadn’t even thought about a cab. He can’t smell his own pheromones yet, but he’s not sure that he could make it even in a short ride home without overpowering the last of his medication’s effects—especially if he can still feel the ghost of Jungkook’s grip on his arm, which Jimin is sure he will feel for days.
“I–I’m going to walk.”
“You’re going to walk ?”
“It’s just a few blocks,” Jimin says truthfully. It is only a few streets over.
“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook announces.
“Jungkook—”
“If you’re not feeling well, I can’t let you walk home by yourself.”
Eyes drifting helplessly over Jungkook’s imploring expression, Jimin suddenly can’t let himself leave without the alpha. Despite the confusion and rejection and hurt swirling around inside him, he can’t deny how much he wants Jungkook. He wants Jungkook and he wants Jungkook to walk him home, to hold the door open for him after he swipes them into his apartment building; he wants Jungkook to keep one hand on Jimin’s hip in the elevator as they ascend up to Jimin’s floor; he wants Jungkook to stay the night, just as Jimin had fantasized for weeks leading up to this night.
He’d built his hopes up so high—and for what?
Wordlessly, Jimin pushes past Jungkook, hurrying down the flights of stairs, hands balled in tight fists. He pushes out the front door, momentarily relieved as the cold night air rushes to meet him. It feels good against his hot skin.
“Jimin! Jimin, wait!” Jungkook’s voice calls after him. But Jimin doesn’t wait, taking off in the direction of his apartment. “Jimin, wait! Please just… I need to explain... I—”
In just a few seconds, Jungkook catches up with Jimin, catching him by the elbow—and Jimin responds like the alpha had just reopened a wound in him, throwing off Jungkook’s hand.
“I thought it was you!” Jimin accuses, whirling around on Jungkook. Hot tears burn his eyes, threatening to spill over as the feelings finally overwhelm him, his wolf whimpering loudly now from somewhere low inside of him. Jungkook, expression pained, reaches out for Jimin to take his hands just as something finally breaks in the omega. He lets Jungkook pull them a little closer, too defeated to fight anymore. “I-I thought you had been leaving me those gifts for the last few weeks. I thought… I really thought they were from you and that, that you… That we were—Jungkook, I feel so… so… I need to go. I–I’m sorry.”
All of the time they’d spent together—Jungkook greeting Jimin in the office with little massages to his shoulders. Jungkook poking his head from around their cubicles to make a funny face. The time Jungkook had knocked over his cup of coffee trying to make Jimin laugh. The countless times their fingers brushed as they reached for the same dry erase pen. All of the time they spent together outside of work, meeting up for Sunday morning runs or brunch. Or the night Jungkook had come over to Jimin’s apartment after work to help decorate for Christmas, and they both were so swept up with their conversation that they hadn’t even realized it was well-past midnight on a weeknight.
Somehow, Jimin had read it all wrong.
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, taking a step forward as Jimin lets out a weak sob. He shifts his hold on Jimin from his fingers to take him by the elbows again, coaxing him forward. “That’s what I needed to tell you. I—You were right. I left all of those gifts for you. It was me. And I need to tell you that I’m sorry.”
Jimin blinks at him through his tears, the world pulling to a stop around them. No snow-flurries fell. No passing cars purred past. No stars flickered in the sky overhead.
Jimin just stared at Jungkook—at that same embarrassed look on his face that Jimin had already burned into his memory.
“You…?”
He can’t find the words to say more, eyes wide as Jungkook shakes his head at himself, gaze on the ground somewhere between their feet.
“I don’t know what came over me. I–I’ve liked you for so long and I–I don’t know why I couldn’t think this through, but when you first told me about this gift exchange I thought… I thought this would be the perfect way to tell you how I feel—how I’ve felt for so long. But then when I didn’t draw your name, I was so sad. And I… I couldn’t handle the idea of another alpha leaving you gifts if Do-Hyun happened to draw your name. And he did, of course, so I… I left you gifts instead. I should’ve told you sooner, but I was scared. It was inappropriate and unprofessional of me. And I’m sorry. I’ve just… I’ve liked you for so long, Jimin-ssi. Maybe from the moment I met you.”
Jimin’s tears fall freely now, leaving hot trails down his cheeks. Jungkook’s face only falls farther as he reaches with one hand—the other still holding Jimin by the elbow like a lifeline—and brushes them away with his thumb.
“This isn’t how I was hoping it would go. Jimin, I’m so sorry… for all of this. I understand if you have to reject me. But I just… I couldn’t help myself.”
Jungkook sniffles now, tears springing in the alpha’s eyes as he lifts his gaze to meet Jimin’s for just a moment before he hangs his head once again. Jimin’s heart lurches as he watches a tear fall from Jungkook’s face and stain the sidewalk between them.
“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin says. His own voice sounds so far away as he mustered up the courage to tilt Jungkook’s face back up with two fingers under the alpha’s chin. “Please walk me home.”
☼
Their walk home is quiet, Jungkook’s confession hanging between them in the cold night air. Jimin doesn’t say much else as they make their way back to his apartment and Jungkook doesn’t push him.
As they turn down a sidestreet between two particularly tall buildings, they pass by the cafe where their team would often grab coffee during their lunch breaks. Though the inside is dark now with it being late into a Friday evening, the front of the store is lit up with festive Christmas decorations—thick curls of metallic tinsel interwoven with twinkling lights and wrapped around the pillars framing the front entryway; a large evergreen wreath hangs above the door, adorned with pinecones and a deep red bow; and a tall Christmas tree stands tucked up against the corner of the building, packed with baubles and glowing white against the velvet-blue of the night.
For the first time since they stood facing one another outside the event hall, Jungkook dares to cast a glance at Jimin. He immediately feels his heart tighten in his chest at Jimin’s tired expression. The omega’s eyes are caught on something in the distance, the tip of his nose pink from crying and from the cold—and yet he takes Jungkook’s breath away nonetheless. Jungkook slows down a little without realizing, caught up in his gazing at Jimin, and only speeds up again when the omega seems to notice him falling a step behind and casts a glance at Jungkook over his shoulder.
And that’s when Jungkook remembers that meeting Jimin’s eyes is even harder. He’s learned that lesson a hundred times over tonight. Just one second of their gazes meeting makes Jungkook’s poor heart skitter to a stop, then race once again as Jimin turns back to watch where he’s going, as if completely unbeknownst of the effect he has on Jungkook.
But he must know by now. Surely he does.
When the two finally arrive outside of Jimin’s apartment complex, Jungkook stops a few steps back to give Jimin space to fish his wallet out from his coat pocket. His hands shake as he does—from the cold, Jungkook assumes—and it takes him a moment to free his keycard from the front fold. When he does, he turns and swipes himself in, then tugs hard on the tall front door to let himself inside. It creaks loudly even though Jimin only pulls it open far enough to slip through.
But then Jimin pauses for a moment, standing half in the doorway. He leans a little heavier on the door, taking a step with it to one side as he keeps his eyes trained on the ground.
“Would you want to come in for a minute?” he asks. Jimin’s voice is soft and quiet, quieter as he adds. “So we can talk?”
Jungkook doesn’t make him ask twice.
He follows behind Jimin into the building, glancing around at the spacious lobby as they pass through. When he’d visited not too long ago to help Jimin put up his Christmas decorations, the festivities in the lobby were already in full-swing, just as they are now. Not a single surface in the whole room is spared from the Christmas cheer—from a garland of little paper snowflakes strung along the welcome desk, to a full-size tree standing in the far corner of the room, down to a little snowman figurine sitting atop the water dispenser along the back wall.
As they walk by, the doorman sitting behind the front desk offers them both a smile and a quiet hello , and Jungkook gives him a small nod of his head in return.
The elevator dings and the front doors slide open the moment Jimin presses the up button. Jungkook steps in behind Jimin, careful to keep some space between them. He suddenly feels as though he can’t read the omega, and it makes Jungkook feel uneasy all over again. Jimin has never been one to hold back around Jungkook—not since he’d first worn down the omega’s guard. It makes Jungkook’s stomach drop to think how far his mistake has set them both back.
“Did you notice the mirrors on the ceiling when you visited?” Jimin asks quietly, his voice startling Jungkook from his worrying.
Jungkook turns toward the omega, then follows his gaze up to the top of the elevator chamber, which is covered in reflective tiles. His gaze immediately finds Jimin in the mirrors; from this angle, Jimin’s face somehow looks softer, almost ethereal with his head tilted back and his features softly lit by the overhead lighting. His eyes catch the light, too, as they meet Jungkook’s reflection.
As they regard one another for a moment, Jungkook swears he sees Jimin crack a smile for a quick second—though it’s gone before he can be sure, the omega’s eyes going wide.
And that’s when Jungkook notices it, too.
“That’s—”
He stops himself before he can say it, feeling his face heat up. Jimin has already returned his focus straight ahead again, eyes pointedly fixed on the elevator doors and hands clasped together in front of him. Jungkook, though, can’t bring himself to look away from it—from the little sprig of mistletoe hanging over their heads, complete with a little red bow at the base of the stem where it dangles from the ceiling.
“Mistletoe,” Jimin finishes for him, and Jungkook rights his gaze to look at the omega. Jimin’s profile is serious-looking, his jaw set and brow drawn low. He’s still serious when he turns his gaze on Jungkook again, his eyes stormy.
“Oh well.”
Jungkook’s not sure if he’s the one to say it, if Jimin says it, or if he just thinks it. He’s not sure if Jimin is the one to launch himself at Jungkook, or if it’s Jungkook himself who sweeps Jimin up into his arms. But the details don’t really matter when they’re kissing.
It’s messy and Jungkook’s hands are in Jimin’s hair and Jimin’s are pulling at Jungkook’s jacket and one of them tastes a little bit like champagne, the other like mint. Jimin’s lips are soft and Jungkook’s tongue is warm and their teeth click when someone pushes the kiss even deeper. But the details don’t really matter when they’re kissing.
They kiss like they’ve been waiting for this moment for forever—and they have waited for this moment for what has felt like a lifetime. It aches almost as much to let their reservations go as it does to kiss as hard as they do with their eyes squeezed shut, their arms embracing one another, the world stopped once again just for them.
Jungkook’s heart thuds in his chest, and he pulls away for just one second to catch his breath. He needs to check Jimin’s face for any hint of regret or remorse or anything —because suddenly Jungkook is terrified all over again that he’s made another irreversible mistake. But as soon as he does, Jimin just pulls Jungkook back in for another kiss. And then another, his hands clutching the front of Jungkook’s jacket.
“Talk,” Jungkook murmurs between more kisses. He accepts each one eagerly. “We need… to talk.”
Jimin pulls away just enough to look up at Jungkook. The omega’s brow is drawn low, the look in his eyes very serious again, despite the fact that the rest of Jimin’s body seems to be dissolving further and further with each touch, melting against Jungkook. .
“That was all I needed to say,” he says matter-of-factly, like Jungkook should’ve known that all along.
So Jungkook just laughs a little, readjusting his hold on Jimin’s waist.
“Oh. Good,” Jungkook says, “me too.” Then he kisses Jimin again.
Jungkook barely hears the elevator ding as they arrive at Jimin’s floor. Jimin is the one to pull away now, grabbing the front of Jungkook’s jacket and yanking them out into the hallway. He wastes no time in reconnecting their mouths again though as they stumble backward together, shoes scuffing the floor.
Luckily for them, Jimin’s front door is just to the right of the elevator, and they only have to break apart for long enough to allow Jimin to fumble around for his keys to let them both inside.
Jimin’s apartment looks just as Jungkook remembers from when he’d helped Jimin decorate for Christmas just a few weeks back. Between shrugging off his coat, stepping out of his shoes, and reciprocating every kiss Jimin offers, Jungkook hardly has the mind to take it all in—only that it’s dark and cozy and somehow feels a little bit theirs now. Or, at the very least, Jungkook feels so obviously wanted here that he’s suddenly afraid his heart might burst. He feels too many emotions for the omega in his arms, which wasn’t something he ever thought possible.
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, breaking another kiss. Jimin’s arms are draped over his shoulders, Jungkook’s arms braced around Jimin’s lower back just above his belt, cinched and holding up Jimin’s slacks. He has half the mind to ask Jimin to let him remove it, but he can’t until he gets this feeling off his chest. “I really am sorry.”
Jimin blinks at him, eyes a little glassy and lips a bit pink and swollen. He shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do though. I wanted this so badly that I… I don’t know. I let it get the better of me. I lied to you and embarrassed you and…”
Jungkook trails off as Jimin leans back a little farther, reaching up to push Jungkook’s hair back with one hand. He’s so gentle as he does it, his eyes little crescents as he smiles softly up at Jungkook.
Jungkook’s wolf goes lax at his touch, practically purring under his fingers.
“I think it’s actually my fault,” Jimin says, shrugging his shoulders a bit. Before Jungkook can protest, Jimin’s smile widens and he pats Jungkook’s chest. “I forgot to warn you when we met that I make men desperate and jealous and lose all sight of themselves. It’s a bad habit of mine.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and laughs, tucking his face into the crook of Jimin’s neck. Jimin runs his hands over Jungkook’s shoulders as the alpha peppers kisses along the collar of Jimin’s shirt. “But, really, Jungkook, you have nothing to apologize for. We… we really dug ourselves in too deep with this mess, to the point where it was too risky to take that leap and admit what we were feeling. I can’t blame you for that because I was a coward too. And, Jungkook, your gifts were so… thoughtful. You really know me, maybe better than even some of my closest friends and we’ve known each other, what?”
“Six months,” Jungkook answers against Jimin’s neck, face still buried there. The omega’s skin is so warm and he can finally, just-barely smell Jimin’s scent—warm sugar and honey with something sweet and floral like Christmas roses.
“Six months,” Jimin agrees.
“...Let me make it up to you.”
Jimin laughs, leaning a little to one side as Jungkook starts trailing kisses beneath his jaw. “Jungkook-ah,” he insists as Jungkook kisses him hard over the pulse point along Jimin’s throat. “I just said you have nothing to apologize for.”
“Let me make it up to you,” Jungkook repeats, sounding like an eager puppy. Fuck it if it’s too fast. His mind runs circles as Jimin’s hands grip his biceps. He pulls back and can’t help but think how handsome Jimin looks like this—dolled-up and ready for the holiday party, but just mussed enough from their kissing and trying to hold back a huge smile.
He’s perfect. Both Jungkook and his wolf agree. They belong to Jimin now.
“Say yes,” Jungkook insists, and Jimin rolls his eyes.
“Okay.”
☾
The emotional whiplash of the night finally starts to take its toll on Jimin when Jungkook carefully lays him back on his own bed, head amongst the pillows. Yet another rush of emotions too overwhelming to name wash over Jimin, his stomach twisting nervously as he tries to pull them apart. He still feels a twinge of the anxiety from earlier—his scent still a little burnt with it as it now curls around them both—and also the same rush as he had in the elevator the moment he noticed the mistletoe, like he couldn’t run from this, from them , anymore. He also feels the ache for Jungkook that’s been growing inside of him for months now, except now it feels a little different.
It feels real , as he watches Jungkook kneel between Jimin’s legs by the foot of the bed.
“You okay?” Jungkook asks, running one hand up Jimin’s shin. His fingers wander around to the back of the omega’s leg, hooking Jimin under the knee to bend his leg back and hitch it up around Jungkook’s waist. Jimin swallows as Jungkook leans forward, pressing a kiss to the inside of Jimin’s lower thigh, over top of the fabric of his slacks.
“I’m okay,” Jimin decides. He pushes himself up a little, propping himself on one elbow and reaching out for the front of Jungkook’s button-down. “Off?”
“Off,” Jungkook agrees, scooting a little closer to let Jimin undo the buttons himself. Jungkook now runs his hand up and down the top of Jimin’s thigh soothingly, watching attentively as Jimin undoes the first button.
Jimin’s not exactly sure what they’re doing now, like this. The truth is, he’ll take anything Jungkook will give him, especially now knowing what it’s like to think that he’d lost his chance at something like this forever. At the same time though, he’s admittedly scared, his heart racing as he undoes another button on Jungkook’s shirt.
They’re taking their time, like they always have.
“Jungkook.”
“Mhm.”
“Kiss me.”
Jungkook does. He leans forward, capturing Jimin’s lips with his own as Jimin undoes the bottom of Jungkook’s shirt, immediately pushing the fabric from the alpha’s shoulders. Jungkook helps by shrugging it the rest of the way off and then reaching behind his head to pull his undershirt off over his head without Jimin even having to ask.
Jimin feels his eyes grow wide at the vision in front of him, his mouth running dry. He should’ve known Jungkook is fit—he is the only one of Jimin’s friends who could keep up with Jimin on his Sunday runs, sometimes pushing the pace a little too fast for his liking even; Jungkook’s clothes are always well-fitted, accentuating his wide shoulders and complimenting his sharp features; and the few times they had play-fought, chasing each other around the parking lot after work or vying over a particular pen or dry-erase marker they both suddenly needed, Jimin felt Jungkook’s strength for himself—but it was something else entirely to see it for himself.
Jungkook’s shoulders somehow seem wider now that they’re bare, his collarbones prominent as he shifts forward to hover over Jimin again. His chest is broad and perfectly-sculpted and his abs are flat and defined, waist tapering off into a ‘V’ into the waistband of his slacks. But what is most startling to Jimin is the sprawling tattoo along Jungkook’s stomach—a smattering of abstract patterns and lines in thick, dark-blue ink.
Jungkook seems to follow Jimin’s gaze, sitting back on his haunches again as Jimin’s hand lifts to smooth over Jungkook’s golden skin. With gentle fingers, the omega traces the sloping lines, letting them guide him in waves along the alpha’s abdomen.
“It’s beautiful,” Jimin says. He glances up at Jungkook and is surprised to find him blushing, his cheeks pink and his hand rubbing soothing circles across his chest, over his heart.
“I forgot you haven’t seen it,” Jungkook says softly, his eyes following Jimin’s continuous movements as goosebumps raise along Jungkook’s skin like magic.
“Does it have a meaning?”
“It has… a lot of meanings actually,” Jungkook admits. This is the first time maybe ever that Jimin has seen Jungkook shy , and suddenly he can’t get enough of it. “Every time something monumental happens in my life, I add a new line. So each little section has a meaning. Like that—” he says, as Jimin follows a new little curl, “—is from when I got accepted into grad school.”
“It’s long,” Jimin notices, following the thick band of blue all the way down to Jungkook’s hipbone where it disappears against another tangential line.
“It felt like a big accomplishment at the time, so I wanted it to be a big part of the whole piece.”
“It is a big accomplishment,” Jimin agrees, and Jungkook grins. The alpha hums, leaning forward again and guiding Jimin to lie back fully against the pillows, Jungkook’s long fingers threading through Jimin’s hair at the nape of his neck.
“It led me to you.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, swatting Jungkook’s arm playfully. “Shut up.”
“I mean it,” Jungkook insists, and presses a firm kiss to Jimin’s mouth.
Of the hundreds of times Jimin had imagined this with Jungkook, he had never pictured Jungkook being as gentle as he is now. Jungkook was pure energy, a constantly-moving force—yet, the moment he has Jimin in his hands his whole world seems to slow down. He touches with reverence, as if he can memorize every last line of Jimin’s body if he traces each one with just enough care, and he never moves too fast. He waits until Jimin is certain of what he wants before he pushes—until Jimin is pulling at his own belt buckle, digging his nails into Jungkook’s skin, and gasping the alpha’s name between heavy breaths.
And, throughout it all, he kisses Jimin deeply, like he has to savor every last one.
“Promise me this isn’t the only time I’ll get to have you like this,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against Jimin’s. They’re both bare now, their skin practically on fire everywhere they touch. Jungkook’s hands roam every inch of Jimin’s waist, his hips, squeezing his ass, but he’s clearly holding himself back. Jimin can see it in his eyes when he dares to meet them; Jimin can see the fear creeping up on him, that same fear of losing this perfect thing over one wrong move that they both knew too well too soon.
Jimin reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind Jungkook’s ear, kissing just to the right of the alpha’s nose. “Do you think I could ever get enough of you, Jeon Jungkook?”
Jungkook’s eyes soften, but the worry still lingers there as his gaze flickers around Jimin’s face. So Jimin reaches for Jungkook’s hand where it rests on his waist, and guides it to his cock, which lays hard and slick against his stomach.
“I know what I want,” he says. Jimin’s stomach flips as he watches Jungkook swallow thickly, his fingers curling around Jimin. He watches as unabashed lust relives the worry in Jungkook’s eyes. “And it’s you. It’s always been you. Only you—”
Jungkook silences him with a kiss, this one somehow different than all the rest. It makes Jimin’s stomach flip, exploding like a thousand shimmering snowflakes sparkling against a night sky. He kisses him back eagerly, letting Jungkook’s tongue press into his mouth as his hand slowly works Jimin’s cock now, then faster as a whimper catches in Jimin’s throat.
“Let me hear you, hyung,” Jungkook requests. He sucks in a breath before he continues as Jimin reaches his hand to stroke Jungkook’s cock, too. He’s thick and warm, and Jimin works him carefully, listening to the way Jungkook’s breathing immediately changes. “I wanna hear you.”
“Yes, Alpha,” Jimin answers—and that’s seemingly all it takes.
☼
By the time they collapse into one another—an exhausted tangle of limbs and sheets—it’s well into the early hours of the morning. Outside Jimin’s bedroom window, snow falls diagonally in droves, holing them up together for what few hours are still left of the night. Not that Jungkook planned to go anywhere. The furthest he intends to be from Park Jimin are the few paces across the room and down the short hallway to the bathroom where Jimin keeps his washcloths.
When he returns to the bedroom, still naked but now with the warm rag in his hands, Jimin opens his bleary eyes and blinks at Jungkook in the dim lighting. At some point during their rounds, Jimin’s Christmas lights had been switched on, illuminating the room with a warm blend of soft white and red twinkling lights. Jimin always looked beautiful, but like this, he looks heavenly, especially as a little smile spreads across his face upon the alpha’s reappearance.
Jungkook sits down on the edge of Jimin’s bed and carefully wipes down his omega—well, maybe Jimin wasn’t totally his yet, but it felt good to call him that in his head. And, if Jungkook has anything to say for it, Jimin will be sooner rather than later; he’s learned his lesson with taking his time.
His omega lays pliant among their mess of blankets, letting Jungkook wipe away the last of their sweat and cum from his stomach and kiss his newly cleaned skin.
“Jungkook-ah,” he says softly, his voice a bit hoarse. Jungkook rubs his hand soothingly across Jimin’s chest and the omega practically purrs with the touch, his face softening. “I’m so tired.”
Jungkook smiles at him, leaning down to kiss him once before he bends over to set the washcloth aside on one of Jimin’s twin nightstands and unplugs Jimin’s lights, plunging them into a blue-colored darkness. “You did good, baby,” he assures him, letting Jimin tug him closer the moment he turns back toward the omega. “So good. You should get some sleep now.”
“Are you staying?”
“Of course I’m staying,” Jungkook answers too quickly. “If you want me to.”
“I want you to.”
“Then I’m not going anywhere.”
Jimin regards Jungkook for a moment, his eyes roaming around Jungkook’s face. He’s not exactly sure what the omega is looking for, but after a moment, he seems to find it, and he closes his eyes immediately, wiggling a little as if situating himself for sleep just like that, held crookedly in Jungkook’s arms.
And that’s all that Jimin seems to need—being in Jungkook’s arms. It makes Jungkook chuckle a little at the irony of it all. This is his perfect Christmas miracle.
Jimin peeks one eye open at him. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you’re so cute, hyung.”
Jimin glares at him for a moment, then hums, rolling over on his side. Jungkook immediately follows, cuddling up to him from behind and dotting a kiss to the back of his neck. He winds one arm around Jimin’s middle, the other he extends beyond the omega, pointing at the vase of roses on Jimin’s nightstand.
“Are those the ones I got you?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin hums again in reply, clearly already being pulled away by sleep. The flowers have fully bloomed now, their white and red blossoms open wide. A few petals have already shed onto the tabletop, and Jungkook leans over to pinch one between his fingers. He rolls it between them, as if he’d never felt a rose before, then kisses the back of Jimin’s head as he leans them both forward again for him to carefully replace the petal beside the vase.
Jimin is so warm against Jungkook’s front, his breathing slow and steady as his ribs expand and retract. He sighs again, sounding blissful. Jungkook closes his eyes and holds his breath, thanking whatever god out there let him have his Christmas miracle.
But before they can both fully drift off, Jimin stirs just a little in Jungkook’s arms.
“Jungkook?” he whispers. So Jungkook whispers back.
“Jimin.”
“What’d you do with all of the gifts Do-Hyun left me?”
Heart swelling, Jungkook just laughs and drops a kiss against Jimin's cheek.
"Why would Do-Hyun leave you gifts? He's not even your Secret Santa," he replies, and Jimin smacks Jungkook's forearm lightly.
Yet that seems to be a good enough answer for him.