Jimin isn’t an easily angered man, but there are certain things that tend to test his patience.
“Jimin, dear, really, come on. A nice girl? A nice boy? Why haven’t you found someone yet?”
“You really should! I don’t want to die knowing my only son has nobody to take care of him.”
“But really, why haven’t you found someone?”
This charade has been going on for about three years, since Jimin moved out of his parents’ house at eighteen. Jimin’s mother doesn’t give up without a fight, and she hasn’t been showing any signs of weaning off of her pressing.
And really, really, really, Jimin adores his mother and has a bunch of respect for her (he respects anyone who’s ever handled a full diaper), but after a while, the words “why haven’t you found someone yet?” become a lot more annoying than he’d care to admit.
It’s not like Jimin doesn’t want to date. He just hasn’t, well, found anyone yet, and the fact that he hasn’t is starting to irk him way too much, way too often - in the form of way too perky phone calls from his previously mentioned parent.
Jimin. Can’t. Take. This. Anymore.
So the next tim, when he’s at home watching a corny show on his TV and stuffing popcorn into his face, that he hears static on the other side followed by the typical, “Why haven’t you found someone yet?”, Jimin opens his mouth and -
“You know what, mom, I did!” he says, sounding so candid and surefire that he surprises himself a little. “I - I didn’t want to tell you, but, u-um, I did. I - you know, I - I’ll bring her-him-them over for Christmas! Yeah, dinner and all. Mhmm. Yup. Totally. Mmhm. O-okay, bye!”
And that is how Jimin becomes officially screwed.
Jimin and Jungkook have been best friends pracically since they still wore baby lotion (so, yeah, since the age of fourteen), and Jimin figures that because of that, it should be no problem to randomly hit Jungkook up at four a.m shriek-whispering. He knows that he’s not bothering Jungkook, anyway, because Jungkook’s Christmas breaks off of university are taken up by anime, random movies, and unhealthy quantities of ramen.
He’s not that surprised when Jungkook says yes to coming to Christmas dinner, and he’d kiss his unhealthy-habit-filled friend through the phone in gratitude if he could.
Jimin and Jungkook drive down to Busan listening to soundtracks by Maroon 5 (along with Jungkook’s exaggerated outbursts out lyrics as he drives), and when they arrive clad in thick Christmas sweaters, Jimin’s mother opens the door with a look of both pleasure and surprise.
“Oh! You’re here, you’re here!” She says, and she ushers the two of them in quickly, smoothing down her hair to fix a nonexistent stray strand.
“I’d tell Jimin’s father,” she tells them, casting a murderous gaze towards a funny-looking pile on the couch, “to wake up and greet you, but he had a smidge too much cranberry wine, and well, I think he needs some - time.”
Jimin realizes that the pile is his dad wrapped up in a burrito of Christmas-themed quilts, mop of salt-and-pepper hair mussed beyond relief and impressive snores coming from his mouth.
Jungkook smiles understandingly.
Jimin’s mother gives a quirk of her mouth, as if in relief. She escorts them hurriedly to the dining table, a sight that’s already making Jimin’s mouth water as he sits down, and his mom keeps going, “Well, I must say, Jungkook, I did not expect to be seeing you here. when Jimin told me that he finally found someone, I was so worried about how they’d be, you know, and I didn’t know what to expect! but I already know you - you’re a big ol’ sweetheart, and you’d never hurt our Jimin here.” she leans in a little against the table as Jungkook nods like a bobblehead, her eyes flashing. “Right?”
Jungkook stops nodding and flickers his eyes to Jimin in distress.
Jimin flushes. “Mom..”
Instantly she brightens again, giggling. “Just kidding!” Her hands pinch the air, pretending to squeeze Jungkook’s cheeks. “Dig in, dig in.”
They oblige, and considering how heavenly potatoes and chicken and all beautiful culinary creations on the planet are laid out on the table, Jimin piles his plate and shamelessly lets Jungkook do most of the talking.
If he didn’t know any better, Jimin would be surprised by how easily Jungkook lies, skillfully answering or slyly evading all of Jimin’s mother’s questions without the blink of an eye. Jimin’s mom looks so ecstatic about the whole thing that Jimin tries not to choke too obviously on his gingerbread man when, at one point, Jungkook even laces their hands on top of the table and beams.
Of course, Jimin’s mother squeals at the action. “You two are so cute.” She cooes, and Jungkook grins so widely, Jimin wants to smack a warning label over his mouth reading ”Caution; may break. Handle with care.”
Jimin puts a grin on his own face too, and he wants to disentegrate into ash from how hot he’s suddenly feeling.
Jungkook’s grip slackens a bit (thank god), and he clears his throat, “Excuse me, Missus Park, but may I..?”
He holds up their now loose fingers, and she claps her hands with a jolly “’Course, ‘course!”
Jungkook takes Jimin along by his wrist. Jimin’s skin is still burning, and he can’t figure it out for the life of him. As they pass under the arch, a stiff Jungkook suddenly jerks Jimin into place below it.
There’s a clatter of utensils. “Oh, mistletoe!” Jimin’s mother cries, gesturing (a bit too excitedly to not seem suspicious) above their heads. Jimin freezes as he shoots his head upward, staring at the red and green doom currently dangingly innocently over his and Jungkook’s heads, his mother’s airy laugh resonating away from them. “How convenient!”
She stares at them expectantly. Jungkook stares at Jimin. Jimin stares at Jungkook. Jungkook puts on that smile.
That’s when they start kissing.
It’s quick, chaste, and simple, but it’s a good two-point-seven seconds of shocking sweetness. Jungkook’s soft and tastes like sparkling cider, and Jimin hopes that he tastes like gingerbread or white wine and not cold turkey. Jungkook cups his face and Jimin forces his hands to loop around Jungkook’s neck well, because he remembers that they have to make this look like the most natural thing on Earth. So he kisses back, and he vows that when they separate his mom looks like she’s going to explode out of her soul and do a victory dance in the dining room.
Quickly, Jungkook is pulling him along again as Jimin barely digests that he just kissed his best friend, mouth numb. When they’re out of eye-and-ear-shot of his mother, Jimin and Jungkook, apparently still with best friends’ in-tuneness, began to sprint like it’s for the Olympics in unison to Jimin’s room and slam the door behind them.
Jimin feels his legs wobble as he watches Jungkook pant, flitting over his astonished face, over his raised brows and big brown eyes looking wider than dish plates.
Jimin’s lungs close up as he realizes that his eyes linger over Jungkook’s mouth.
“When I came here,” Jungkook says at last, quiet but loud enough to break the awkward silence of realizaton, and Jimin can’t tell if the voice his best friend is using sounds low-key alarmed, high-key disturbed, or downright terrified, “I didn’t intend to kiss you!”
“You think that I did?”
Jungkook rakes a hand through his hair and then drags them down his face, groaning. “We just kissed. Jimin, we, best friends, just kissed,” he whispers.
Jimin gives Jungkook a (not really) stern look and points his finger at Jungkook’s chest (not really) warningly, feeling his face burn up until he’s sure that he can light a fire to that mistletoe from before. “This,” he starts shakily, finger wobbling, “changes nothing. You hear me? Nothing.”
Jungkook nods quickly, exhales uneven, and Jimin collapses onto his mattress, an arm covering his eyes.
(He’ll remember this day as “the day he realized that he hates mistletoe.”)
You lie all July on the deck trying to get a tan. I show you respect just trying to let you know I understand, and inside I’m just dying to hold your hand. You know, the subtle romantic advances. The stars are aligned so why not take chances. She who dances with wolves, find it easier to sift through the shit of bulls. Hope you know that I’m not on that, but I can see where your concern is at. But I’m not trying to, get a you, by some type of malice, just trying to show you my wonderland Alice. And I could be your Mad Hatter. Just want to fill your life with happiness and laughter and maybe fulfill your happily ever after. But no promises. And no trix, cause I know that’s for the kids, but I is in the biz, of putting smiles on, women’s faces for miles long. If I could sing I’d sing you a song, telling you how I think we belong, in the same circle. Don’t think I’m your typical Urkle. Just like I don’t think you’re just a pretty girl. And I know it’s not easy to let me in your world. You’ve built up a wall like the Great Wall of China, and most are trying knock it down before trying to find the, reason why you’ve built it in the first place, or those others who try to get around it on the first date. Well I know we have to build sturdy foundations, before we can have relations, so this is what’s about to go down. Let’s forget about the future and get to know each other now.