Archive of Our Own

Jungkook hasn’t done Christmas in a while.

Ever since he he’d been at uni, his parents would travel for the holidays, and he would join them. In his mind, he’d somehow thought that was how it would always be. That, a few years down the line, he’d bring a boyfriend along or, preferably, a husband. Instead, he became a slave to capitalism and brought along his work. Then he became the CEO, and family vacations became a thing of the past. For a couple of years now, he’s spent the holidays working from home at best or stuck in the office at worst.

His parents are so proud of him, they don’t even nag him for it.

Maybe that sucks worse, somehow.

Insult to injury are his mother’s occasional remarks. He loves her to pieces, but his eomma is convinced that he’s hiding some secret boyfriend from them. The idea of it was quite funny at first—in fact, Jungkook wisheshe had something to hide.

The sad truth is that there is no one. There hasn’t been anyone in a long time.

Jungkook has only been in love once. Real love. And for a long time, he’d still been hoping for some second chance romance. For that person to see him for the man he is at long long last. But Namjoon is happily married now, has been for two years, and Jungkook isn’t bitter about it anymore as long as no one happens to remind him.

There had been people of course, at first. Flings, hook-ups, chance encounters. But the only painful thing about them was how easy they were to forget. How they were never enough, but Jungkook didn’t want more from them either. Eventually, those people turned into opportunities which Jungkook pretended not to see.

A phone number on his coffee to go.

That guy he’d met at the gym with his lingering glances and casual touches. (Jungkook had almost caved with that one, but he’d luckily turned out to be engaged, and Jungkook was strictly monogamous, even if the fiancé in question wouldn’t have minded. It had blown his mind a little, to encounter people who were fine sharing their partners like that outside of dramas.)

And then, at the office.

Jungkook had to pretend a little harder at the office.

He was there to work. He wasn’t there to be distracted by that guy who’d always drop pens around him, or the woman whose skirts seemed to get progressively shorter in his presence, or that older colleague who kept trying to convince him to go out for drinks.

As CEO, he’s picked his personal assistant very carefully. People no longer dare to be presumptuous around him now, unless they are new and mistake him for a regular employee due to his age.

The flipside of the high walls he’s built?

Sure, they keep out inappropriate advances, meaningless chatter, and unwanted expectations.

They also keep in the loneliness.

Locking himself into a cage of his own making had seemed like a good idea when he kept being pestered from all sides, when he’d been overwhelmed by all those requests and social obligations.

Now he’s entered his thirties, and outside of his work, there is nothing.

Nothing at all.

So, what use is it to celebrate Christmas?

It’s a fest for lovers. Jungkook isn’t on the list.

And he doesn’t believe in half-assing things either. If he can’t have the perfect Christmas, he’d rather not bother at all.

If I know it won’t be perfect, there’s no use wasting my energy.

He repeats it like a mantra as he drives home from work past glistening snow and bright Christmas lights.

If I know it won’t be perfect, there’s no use wasting my energy.

He repeats it to himself as he turns into his street, every house lit up and decorated extensively, ranging from modest to tasteful to corny to over-the-top.

Every house except his.

He parks his car and hurries to get inside, always a little anxious some ahjumma might take personal offence and loudly start chastising him for his decisive lack of Christmas cheer.

Maybe next year, Jungkook thinks without much conviction.

Maybe next year, he’ll have a reason to celebrate.

Jimin used to love Christmas time.

Everything bright and sparkly, the excitement of the first fall of snow, the colourful decorations, all that love and cheerful anticipation in the air.

Things changed when he lost his home, lost everything. But it’s been so long, he can barely remember it now, the memories fuzzy as snowflakes in his mind. The life of a stray is all he’s known for years.

It’s most manageable in the spring and when the autumn leaves fall. The summer heat is tough, but Jimin can deal with it. But the cold winter nights?

Jimin is hungry. He is tired. It’s either trying to find a safe place to rest or fighting for a few scraps to tide him over. Jimin doesn’t have the energy to do both. Frankly, he doesn’t have the energy to do either. But his will to live hasn’t been worn down just yet.

It’s easier in his other form, as a cat. Sometimes people take pity on him, though Jimin is careful not to get too close. The last thing he wants is to end up in a shelter or, worse, a hybrid rehabilitation centre. But he’ll take the food they offer him, sometimes a scratch behind his ears, when the loneliness gets to him. It’s easier to keep himself warm, too, with his fur to protect him from the cold. In the winter, he rarely roams around in his human form at all.

And when it’s freezing, the way it is in this moonless night, not even his fluffy coat will provide any comfort.

Jimin is cold.

Jimin is so cold.

His whiskers hurt. His ears feel like they are about to fall off. His tail is stiff with frost. He half considers curling up into a ball in the middle of a sidewalk. He needs warmth. He needs shelter. And he needs it quick, before cold and weariness seep all the way into his bones.

There.

Warmth.

He dashes towards it with new vigour, paws leaving little imprints in the snow.

Warmth. Yes.

Big machine. Car? Jimin thinks it’s a car. Thinking is always a bit fuzzier when he’s a cat, and the lack of sleep and food paired with the freezing cold isn’t helping.

He needs warmth.

Jimin ducks underneath the car, beelining for the source of heat. Yes. At the front. Up there.

He climbs inside, tugging himself into a suitable gap, nicely dark and tight.

It’s warm.

Finally, Jimin is warm.

Jungkook is fucking cold.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he curses under his breath.

That’s what he gets for refusing to put on his coat before stepping outside. He just wanted to quickly grab his briefcase, which he’d forgotten in the car like the stupid idiot that he is.

Unfortunately, two dumbs do not a smart move make, and now he’s freezing his ass off in the driveway, as his car keys have chosen that exact moment to give out, so now he’s dancing around the car like a crazy person, trying to find an angle from which it will finally unlock. When it finally does work, against all odds, Jungkook’s hands are so stiff from the cold that he struggles to open the door. He leans over to grab his briefcase, which gets stuck on the handbrake, resulting in Jungkook hitting his head on the car roof and elbowing the horn as he loses his balance.

The car honks angrily, and then it shrieks.

Jungkook blinks.

Shrieks?

He is on the ground in a heartbeat, kneeling in the snow in his sweatpants as he tries to get a look under the car. The noise has subsided, but Jungkook thought it sounded a lot like a cat or another smaller animal, and if there’s nothing underneath the car, it could quite possibly be inside his engine.

“Shit.”

Jungkook unlocks the hood, slow and careful, so as to not frighten whatever he might encounter underneath.

Nothing jumps out at him, which has some of the tension in his shoulders easing. At first glance, he can’t make out anything wrong, the streetlight being partially blocked by the open hood. Then he notices the bundle of fur.

Carefully, so very carefully, Jungkook reaches for it. The creature is soft and warm, and as he gently extracts it from his engine, it turns out to be a little calico kitty, fast asleep in his cold, stiff hands.

Jungkook closes the hood, then the car door and quickly makes his way back to the house. His briefcase can wait.

It’s not any of the neighbours’ cats. Jungkook is sure of that. They all have collars, and this small thing looks malnourished and dehydrated, all skin and bones. It’s so light. Jungkook will get it to the vet as soon as he can, but, for now, a warm place to sleep, food and water are the priorities. And a litter box. Shit, Jungkook will need one of those, at least for now, until he’s figured out what to do with the kitty. He’ll have to check if it’s chipped, just in case, even if he doesn’t think so. If the calico has an owner, they must be a jerk. Though, maybe the cat ran away or got lost. Jungkook shouldn’t judge prematurely. But it’s a bit difficult not to be angry at the entire world when he thinks about the fate the poor thing could have suffered if he hadn’t found it.

He'll get it settled first, and then he’ll go out to buy all the necessities right away.

…though, he might wanna change into dry clothes first. And wear his coat this time.

Yes.

Jungkook will do that.

Jimin wakes from the best sleep of his life, stretching languidly, purring a little with how warm and comfortable he is. Like he’s sleeping on an actual cloud. It reminds him a little of…

He blinks his eyes open and shrieks in panic as he is met with the unfamiliar layout of a room. A room inside a house. He’s in someone’s house.

Jimin immediately darts under the nearest furniture, hiding in a corner.

He stays put for what feels like hours, trying to hear over the thunderous beat of his heart. Everything is calm. Nothing stirs.

After a while, when there doesn’t seem to be imminent danger, curiosity gets the better of him, and he starts exploring the room.

It’s been a while since Jimin has been inside one. Houses tend to be harder to sneak into, and the risk of something bad happening is high. There was a time where Jimin thought about pretending to be a harmless pet, but staying as a cat for too long always makes him worry he might lose his human side, all the precious memories that seem to be slipping from him no matter how hard he tries to hold on. And he would have to leave eventually, to avoid getting caught, and Jimin can’t make himself break a human’s heart for his own benefit. He can’t make someone think he ran away, forever wondering what might have happened to him.

Jimin just can’t do it.

The room is quite simple. It’s tidy and clean, but it doesn’t seem like a place someone lives in. Maybe it’s abandoned? Maybe Jimin snuck inside himself and he forgot? He was so exhausted. So tired. It doesn’t seem impossible.

But then, in one corner, Jungkook finds water and food bowls, and, in the other, behind a sort of privacy screen, a litter box. The windows and the door are closed. And Jimin was on the fluffy cloud. A cat bed.

It all feels… a little too intentional.

He strains to listen for any sounds from the other side of the door.

When he doesn’t hear anything, Jimin switches form. There is a large cupboard in the corner, and Jimin opens it on a hunch.

Jackpot.

He grabs pants, and a shirt, and a hoodie, quickly dressing himself. Keeping clothes on him is always difficult, since he loses them immediately when he changes into his cat form. In the winter, it’s increasingly challenging to find a dry hiding spot where he can come and go undetected.

Of course he feels bad for taking the clothes, but he’s going to give them back. He definitely will. He tries not to steal unless he can’t help it, and staying in his human form isn’t sustainable in this cold winter anyway. He doesn’t need them. It’s just easier to explore the space when he can comfortably reach the doorknob.

And he can’t very well open the door naked.

The house turns out to be massive. There are multiple floors, and more rooms than Jimin thinks anyone could possibly need. There’s not a lot of furniture in general, and very little natural light. Almost everything is black. Jimin still can’t quite tell if anyone actually lives here or not, but someone has had to bring him here, right?

He finds the kitchen, and there is food. Actual human food. And cat food, too, as he notices. And cat litter, the same that was in the room he woke up in, judging by the picture.

Maybe there is another cat?

But Jimin couldn’t smell a cat. Jimin actually can’t smell much of anything. The air is clean, and he suspects that those weird machines that make soft whirring noises may be responsible, but he can’t be sure. Most technology has passed him by. He sees ads sometimes on those giant screens, but he can never quite tell what any of the techy things are supposed to do.

As he carefully peeks through the blinds, the street outside is lit up with Christmas decorations as far as he can see, and Jimin’s heart skips a beat. “Sobok sobok,” he whispers, watching the snow fall gently.

He barely registers the car that parked in the driveway.

Jimin only realises something is wrong when the man that climbed out of said car comes right up to the front door of the house he’s in.

Jungkook doesn’t quite expect to see the cat straight away, but what he expects even less is a pile of clothes by the kitchen window.

Clothes he hasn’t worn in a while and which Jungkook is pretty sure he put in the closet in the guest room.

The room he put the cat in.

The room he put the cat in, which he most certainly closed the door to before he left.

The door is open now.

And while Jungkook has seen videos of cats opening doors before…

“Hello?” he calls softly. “Are you in here?”

There’s no answer, of course not. If the other being is in here, it’s probably hiding somewhere as a cat, and Jungkook doubts they are on speaking terms quite yet.

“My name is Jungkook. Are you… Um… Maybe I’ll just leave these here? And you can… You can come down to talk, if you’d like. I just came back from work, so I’m going to take a shower first. So, if you’d rather leave… that’s okay, too. But I wouldn’t mind if you stayed for lunch. Just think about it, okay?”

Jungkook puts the folded clothes on the floor, right where he’s standing in the doorway, a silent peace offering.

He’s trying not to look as he kneels down, but he thinks he sees eyes flashing from underneath the bed.

Jungkook turns to go take a shower, painfully aware that he might have just opened himself up to the possibility of being robbed blind. Or he just talked to a stray cat like an idiot.

As he locks the bathroom door, Jungkook can’t quite decide which one would be worse.

Jimin stands close to the door, ready to run if he needs to.

He thought about facing the stranger as a cat instead, acting cute, maybe even pretending to be an actual kitty. But Jimin is stronger as a human. When it comes to other people, it’s easier to defend himself like this. He can still change back as he dashes outside, leave the clothes strewn around the driveway so the stranger can pick them back up.

A foolproof plan.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s foolproof plan didn’t include the stranger standing at the top of the stairs bare chested, with grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, looking fucking hot. Cats prefer running water, and there is a single water droplet clinging to the human’s abs, and it’s only natural Jimin wants to lick it off his skin.

“Oh!” Jungkook’s face scrunches up with a smile, and Jimin gets mild whiplash from how cute that is. “You’re still here. You can sit down if you like? I’ll just go grab a shirt and then I’ll make us something tasty to eat.”

Jungkook’s heart is pounding in his chest.

They are still there.

The hybrid is still there, and they look pretty as fuck in Jungkook’s worn clothes.

He hopes they will like the food. Maybe he should have gone for something that’s easier on the stomach? He could still run out and buy some other ingredients. He went for his signature dish without thinking…

When he comes back down, the hybrid is sitting gingerly on the floor, right where Jungkook left him.

Jungkook can’t help laughing. “I meant you could sit on the couch. Or in the kitchen. Why are you sitting on the floor?”

“Warm,” the hybrid says.

Oh. Right. Heated floors. Cat hybrids would like that.

“Ah. Do you like it?”

The hybrid nods, eyes tracking Jungkook’s every move.

Jungkook crouches down to be on eye level with them. “I’m Jungkook,” he reintroduces himself.

The hybrid nods again.

“Do you have a name?”

“It’s Jimin,” the calico says.

Jungkook’s heart soars at hearing their voice, a little scratchy, maybe from lack of use, but something sweet and melodious. “That suits you.”

“I’m a male,” Jimin informs him. “Not that that means anything.”

Jungkook nods. “Thank you for telling me.”

He has to pretend very hard he hasn’t checked for the cat’s gender when he still thought it was a regular stray and had intended to put up posters (just in case he did belong to someone) and bring him to the vet as soon as possible.

And maybe it’s a little too easy to get distracted by his blonde hair, or his little cat ears, the mix of white, red and dark fur on them, the tip of his tail whipping behind him. It must be uncomfortable for it to be half-trapped in the pants. Jungkook should cut them up for him when he switches forms again.

Jimin’s pink lips draw together in a devastating pout, and Jungkook blinks, trying to read his thoughts, ready to do anything he asks.

“So?” Jimin prompts haughtily. “Food?”

Jungkook almost falls over his own feet in his eagerness to get into the kitchen.

Jimin is apprehensive about lunch initially. He watches from a safe distance at first, sniffing out the ingredients. Logistically, if Jungkook meant to do him any harm, he could have taken advantage while Jimin was out cold from exhaustion. Still, the hybrid stays vigilant. He learned early on to be wary of humans, no matter how kind—or attractive—they may be. So he supervises from the doorway, gradually wandering closer to get a better look at his meal.

Jungkook smiles at him over his shoulder, undeterred by Jimin’s glare. “Smells good, doesn’t it?”

Jimin steps closer, and then closer still, leaving just the tiniest gap between their bodies as he breathes the stranger in, nose brushing where his scent gland would be if he was a hybrid.

Jungkook stands completely still.

“It’s alright,” Jimin says, but he’s not exactly playing it cool with the way he rubs his scent into Jungkook.

It’s not Jimin’s fault, though. Scenting requires more effort with humans, and scents fade more quickly from their frail skin, in part because of those silly rituals they have, like washing their hands or showering.

But with Jungkook smelling a bit more like him, Jimin feels less on edge. This human, for the duration of this meal, is his now.

Jimin peers over his shoulder into the pots and pans.

There is no longer a gap between their bodies.

“What are you making?”

Jungkook huffs out a breathless laugh. “Dakgalbi. I hope you like it spicy.”

Jimin’s eyes dip down Jungkook’s body. “I’ll have to taste it first.”

The human seems shy, but Jimin can smell that he’s interested. He’ll file that away for later. Jimin isn’t going to risk burning the first warm meal he’s had in months.

Even if there are other ways to warm his insides…

Jimin watches Jungkook up close, the pretty mole under his lip, the pretty pieces of metal that adorn his face. His big eyes make Jimin think of a prey. A bunny hybrid, maybe. It fits with the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs.

Cute, Jimin decides.

Very cute.

When Jungkook wants to taste the food, Jimin swoops in to steal the entire spoonful.

The human wasn’t kidding: it’s spicy.

Jimin loves it.

“You eat this every day?!”

“Well… actually, I haven’t really cooked for myself in a while. I take it it’s good?”

There’s a smug smile tugging at his pierced lip.

“It’s—”

“Alright?” Jungkook challenges. “If it’s just alright, a small plate will be enough for you, right?”

Jimin huffs. “Sure,” he says.

His stomach chooses this exact moment to growl something pathetic.

Jimin swallows.

Jungkook serves him a big plate. He serves him seconds when Jimin longingly stares at the stove after licking his plate clean, and then he serves him thirds when Jimin finishes up in record time again, smiling sweetly.

“Eat slowly or you’ll get sick,” Jungkook says.

Jimin doesn’t eat slowly.

Jimin does feel sick an hour later.

Absolutely worth it, though.

So warm. So full.

A little tummy ache feels like a luxury in a world where Jimin can’t remember the last time he didn’t feel hungry.

And the warmth. Everything is so warm. Even the floor is warm.

Jimin is curled up the wooden floorboards, warm, and full, and sleepy.

“Why is your house so dark?” Jimin asks. “I’m nocturnal, but even I could do with some more light. What about colours? Do you hate colours, Jungkook-ssi? Do you have furniture, too?” He shoots upright. “What about Christmas? You don’t have a single decoration, not even one tiny bauble! Do you hate Christmas, Jungkook-ssi?!”

Jungkook has learned two things in the few minutes since Jimin woke up from his nap:

The calico likes close contact, and he talks.

Contrary to Jungkook’s initial impression, Jimin likes to talk a lot.

When he woke, he immediately rose and walked towards the couch, where Jungkook was pretending to read Namjoonie hyung’s latest book. It dropped to the carpet, forgotten but not lost, the moment Jungkook got hypnotised by the sway of Jimin’s hips as he came closer. Jungkook has been taking dance lessons for most of his life, has always been into watching, studying, and imitating choreographies in performances and music videos, but he’s never seen anyone move like this. Jimin proceeded to sit right next to Jungkook, thigh to thigh, then turned to stretch out languidly, legs occupying the free side of the couch, the rest of his body occupying Jungkook.

“Good morning,” he lisped, and Jungkook was filled with the strong urge to keep him forever.

Then the calico asked if there would be more food, and Jungkook said yes, even though they ate everything he’d made earlier, and the dakgalbi had been meant to last them at least two days. Jungkook would go out again to buy more. He had nothing but money to spend. Or maybe he’d order in. It was a struggle, two wolves inside him and all that. The urge to be the one to cook and provide for the pretty stray in his lap versus the bone-deep knowledge that Jungkook wasn’t going to go anywhere as long as he had a lap-full of calico on top of him.

After info dumping about all the foods he liked (Jimin didn’t seem to remember the names of most of them, but he was good at describing what they looked and tasted liked, and Jungkook filed all of it away for later), Jimin proceeded to criticise his interior décor choices.

“I like it,” Jungkook says quickly, pulling the indignant calico back down into his lap. He’s instantly relieved to regain the warm comfort of Jimin’s body. Jungkook felt weird without the grounding weight of it. “I just don’t really celebrate. And I like colours, too,” Jungkook says, staring intently at Jimin’s tricolour fur. “I just prefer rooms to be dark and spacious. I’m a little sensitive to light.”

“That’s fine and all, but why don’t you celebrate Christmas?” Jimin asks. He’s tugging seemingly absentmindedly at the zipper of Jungkook’s jacket, and Jungkook is trying hard to pretend not to notice the way the zipper is progressively tugged further down.

“…do you?” Jungkook asks back.

The zipper stops moving.

“I used to. A long time ago. Sometimes… I wonder sometimes if that was even my life. Maybe I made it up, to make myself feel better. It’s been so long.”

“You…”

“I live on the streets, yes,” Jimin says.

He tugs the zipper back up.

Jungkook doesn’t ask.

“You can stay here for as long as you want, you know?” It’s too early. He’s being too pushy. He’s being too much, because that’s the only way Jungkook knows how to do any sort of relationship—jumping in headfirst, pouring his entire heart and soul into it, or staying the fuck away from even the possibility of letting something bloom. “I have lots of space. And lots of food. I can easily provide for you. Not that I think you need that. Someone providing for you, I mean. I’m sure you’re fine on your own.” Jungkook regrets every word he says, and now he’s lying, and he’s making it worse, but he can’t stop rambling. “But. The offer stands. If you want.”

“It’s just you?” Jimin asks.

“Mh?”

“Just you? In this house?”

“Yeah. Just me.” Jungkook tries to smile, but it’s too dim a smile to light his face, let alone reach his eyes.

“Me too,” Jimin says. “It’s just me.”

Jungkook nods. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

 “I’ll consider it,” Jimin says.

He tugs at the zipper, stronger this time, smiling up innocently at Jungkook when it opens almost all the way.

“You said you’d put on a shirt.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Couldn’t find one.”

Jimin’s fingers claw into the hoodie as he leans in.

Jungkook forgets to breathe.

Jimin darts out his tongue, licking Jungkook’s stomach, making him shiver head to toe. His tongue is a little rougher, more cat than human. Jungkook’s hand slides into Jimin’s hair, not sure if he wants to pull him closer or push him away.

As Jimin licks his abs, slowly, sensually, Jungkook’s Calvin Klein’s start to feel a little too tight. It’s so easy to fill in the visual, imagine him licking somewhere else, just a little further south, and Jungkook feels insane with the not-quite-where-he-needs-it of it all. He wants to do something nice for Jimin in return, wants to brush through his hair or scratch behind his cute little cat ears, but all he can do is to keep himself from white knuckling Jimin’s scalp.

Jimin pulls back and Jungkook’s breath stutters, his cock twitching painfully in his pants when Jimin suddenly closes the zipper, pulling it all the way up to his collar bone.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Jimin says, smiling sweetly.

Jungkook wants to disagree. He has never run hotter in his life.

Jimin tilts his head. “Is it dinner time yet?”

Jungkook’s voice comes out hoarse when he asks, “What do you want?”

In the morning, Jimin is sprawled languidly in an armchair, basking in the light that streams in through the only window whose blinds aren’t closed. Jungkook opened the curtains just halfway and repositioned the chair. The noise was what woke Jimin up and drew him downstairs.

He’s sleeping in the guest room—for now.

The way Jungkook’s mouth hung open for a moment when he said goodnight, Jimin thought he was going to invite him into his bedroom. Into his bed. Into his pants, maybe.

But no words came, so Jimin leaned in to brush his lips across Jungkook’s cheek, almost grazing the corner of his mouth as he pulled back, before slipping into the room he’d woken up in that morning.

A human’s scent was never quite as strong as a hybrid’s, lacking pheromones and all that, but the flare of interest had been unmistakable, just like the way Jungkook’s breath would hitch when Jimin was close.

Still, Jimin thought his little human could do better than that. Just because he’s been living in the streets doesn’t mean he’s this easy to have. Jungkook is going to have to try a lot harder.

Comparing the view of the colourfully decorated street outside with the literal cave he’s in, Jimin sees some obvious areas with room for improvement. “Why do I have to get stuck in the only place in Seoul that doesn’t even have a single fairy light,” Jimin mutters, glum. “How can you get in the Christmas spirit like this?”

“Oh,” Jungkook makes. “I guess it’s Christmas soon.”

Jimin snorts. “You guess?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Time just kind of…” He makes a vague gesture with his hands.

“Oh. You said you don’t really celebrate. Why’s that? You never answered my question.” Jimin adds some extra pout to his accusation.

“Ah, well…” Jungkook hands Jimin iced coffee, careful to avoid the beam of light surrounding him, squinting against the brightness. “It’s for people who are in love, isn’t it?”

He’s scratching the back of his neck, like he’s embarrassed about it.

“But isn’t that so pretty?” Jimin asks. “Don’t you have anyone you love?”

Jungkook sits on the couch, a good metre away, and Jimin suddenly thinks that light is very overrated. He doesn’t seem to want to keep standing when Jimin is seated. Last night, they had dinner together sitting on the floor.

“I do,” Jungkook says. “But they all have other people.” There is a hint of bitterness to it, like what he really means to say is other people who they love more. “And my parents are travelling, and I can’t really join them because of work.”

“Do you work a lot? What is your job like?”

“I do. It’s pretty boring, honestly.” Jungkook’s smile looks a little sad. “But it pays well, and I always wanted to make a comfortable living to support my parents and… yeah.”

“And you don’t want a mate?”

Jungkook blushes. “Um, I haven’t really dated much. It’s not that I don’t want to…”

He keeps trailing off, and Jimin tries to fill the gaps himself, tries to figure out the puzzle piece this sweet, seemingly hardworking human is.

“I guess I just wanted to focus on work and I figured that person would come around eventually, and once I reached a point in my life where I felt like I wanted to share everything I’ve built with someone, anyone I thought I could be interested in already had someone else. Some of my friends have been married for years. People I know from high school have kids by now. I don’t know.” He shrugs, tugging at something on his shirt which looks suspiciously like Jimin’s fur. “With Christmas, too… I kept thinking I should celebrate properly, even if it’s just me, or maybe invite over some friends, I don’t know, but then I get swamped with work, and then December kinda just passes me by, and before I know it, it’s already the 24^th, and I’ve run out of time, and if I can’t get it perfect, what’s the point?”

“So… you would like to celebrate?” Jimin asks slowly. “In a nicely decorated house?”

“I mean… sure. If I had a reason to celebrate. And the time and energy to decorate. Well, within reason. I prefer like… I would say tasteful, but others would probably call it sparse. I don’t like when rooms feel too crowded, or when there are a lot of different colours and bright lights.”

Jimin opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Isn’t it preposterous? This kind stranger lets him stay here, feeds him, keeps him warm. Jimin can hardly ask him to spend even more money so he can go out and buy Christmas decorations. Who would do that? They don’t even know each other.

Jimin is nothing but a stray.

Jungkook doesn’t have time for Christmas.

Just because he’d like some decorations, doesn’t mean Jimin has a right to selfishly superimpose his own tastes onto his apartment. Their ideas about interior design are clearly very different. And it’s not like Jungkook invited him to celebrate the holidays together. He’s just letting Jimin stay because he took pity on him, the way humans always do.

“I see,” he says, the moment awkwardly stretched out around his answer. “Well, if—if you changed your mind, I’d help. With decorating, I mean.”

His cheeks burn. Why can’t Jimin ever shut up? Innocent as the offer is, he’s still being—

“Oh,” Jungkook says, smiling. “That would be nice. I have a lot of work to get through this month which needs to be done before Christmas, but maybe I can make some time next week.”

Jimin nods, trying not to show his disappointment at the non-committal answer.

He sips his americano, which instantly lifts his mood. Jimin loves coffee, and it’s just another luxury he can’t afford to indulge in, usually. But in this house, he can have as much of it as he wants.

Jimin smiles softly, looking from Jungkook to the street outside, where light snow has started to fall.

Maybe it’s a good thing it’s the only house that isn’t decorated.

Maybe it’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t celebrate Christmas.

How much harder it would be to say goodbye to this house, if it were to slowly fill with Jimin’s hopes and dreams.

“You seem to be in a good mood, boss.”

Jungkook makes a non-committal sound, like he hasn’t been grinning like an idiot throughout meetings all day.

Kim Seokjin is, objectively, too handsome to be someone’s assistant, but he does an excellent job, and he isn’t afraid to punch Jungkook in the face in a boxing ring. In hindsight, it’s not much of a surprise how easily he broke through Jungkook’s defences when he first started working him. And he did it in such a charming manner, too, Jungkook had barely even noticed the rubble he left in his wake.

At the same time, Seokjin has made no attempt to cross any actual lines. He is silly, and he can be maddeningly unserious, but he has a natural inclination towards not just pinpointing but also protecting other people’s boundaries.

Jungkook feels at ease having Seokjin around.

“I took in a stray cat,” Jungkook tells him, grinning.

“Oh yeah? And you’re happy because it can’t pee all over your couch because you don’t have a couch?”

“I have a couch, hyung,” Jungkook groans.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Jungkook shrugs. “You don’t have to believe it.”

“It’s good to see you happy, Jungkook-ah,” Seokjin says, and he says it so genuinely, it breaks Jungkook’s heart a little.

Yeah.

Jungkook is happy.

Jimin has stayed at his house for eight days now, and Jungkook is happy.

“So that’s why you’re so eager to get back home lately, huh?” Seokjin says. “I gotta say, the lack of late nights has done wonders to my skin.”

Kim Seokjin’s skin is flawless, of course, whether he sleeps twelve hours or two. Just one of his many infuriating charms.

“He’s been malnourished, so I want to make sure he eats regular meals. Healthy meals.”

“Oh? Are you actually cooking again?”

“I asked you for that recipe just yesterday.”

“I figured you were asking for a friend,” Seokjin jests. “Or for the personal cook I keep telling you to hire.”

“I’m not hiring a personal cook,” Jungkook says, and before Seokjin can get a word in, he adds, “and I’m not hiring you as my personal cook either.”

“You know, Jungkook-ah, I would cook for you for free, if you’d let me.”

Jungkook waits for the fight or flight to kick in, but all that happens is his heart giving another painful twinge.

Because he knows.

Jungkook does know that, if he let him, Seokjin would be his friend.

“Anything to suck up to the boss,” Seokjin says cheerfully, effectively breaking the moment. “I expect a massive raise in January.”

“Keep dreaming,” Jungkook mutters, rolling his eyes.

If Seokjin tried just a little harder, Jungkook would cave immediately.

Jungkook wonders if he knows.

Jungkook wonders if Seokjin does it on purpose.

Waiting for him to make the first step.

Jungkook shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this. He has back-to-back meetings until 6, and he really wants to be home by 7 so he’ll be done with dinner by the time Jimin wakes up.

Truthfully, Jungkook wishes he could just say screw it and leave right now.

“Oh no!” Seokjin exclaims suddenly. “It seems my thumb slipped and all your afternoon appointments are cancelled. Should we call it a day and go home early?”

Jimin is bored.

He’s stretched out on the living room floor with nothing to do.

He has too much restless energy to take a nap, but he already zoomed around the house three times, and he opened every drawer and every wardrobe, stuck his head into every single room.

All he has to show of it are a bunch of cat treats he found hidden in the pantry, which he has been munching on.

Jungkook explained to him that there is food in the fridge, but Jimin doesn’t really trust this thing called “refrigerator”. It shoots a beam of light at him whenever he opens it, and it makes Jimin hiss. There’s a low but near-constant sound it emits, some kind of whirring, and Jimin is not a fan.

He guesses that even this feeling of boredom is a sort of luxury. Usually all his senses are focused on survival. Finding food. Looking out for threats. There is no time to be bored.

But Jimin currently is surviving just fine, and it’s boring. He half considers switching back to his cat form and dashing out to play in the snow, but he’s worried he might not be able to get back in. And what if Jungkook comes back early to find him gone?

Part of Jimin would selfishly want to see his reaction, if he’s being honest.

Would Jungkook even care?

Would he be sad if Jimin was gone?

When Jimin thinks of the things Jungkook told him and the things he left unsaid, he can’t help wondering. If maybe it wasn’t Jungkook omitting things, but that rather those gaps contained pockets of emptiness in his life. Looking at Jungkook, Jimin sees the same loneliness he carries in his heart reflected back at him.

Does Jungkook want Jimin to stay as badly as Jimin wants to stay? Just a little longer?

The sound of Jungkook’s car in the driveway outside makes Jimin shoot upright. He’s back already? Jungkook said he wouldn’t be home before it’s dark, and Jimin isn’t particularly good at reading human clocks, but he can tell the passage of time pretty accurately by looking at the sky and relying on his inner clock, and no more than a few hours could have passed, as long and stretched out as chewing gum those hours might have felt to Jimin.

Jimin jumps to his feet and dashes to the door, pushing it open impatiently, racing across the driveway to meet Jungkook halfway and jump into his arms, ready or not.

Jungkook drops his briefcase to catch him.

Jimin might be unreasonably pleased by that as he proceeds to rub his face all over Jungkook’s before snuggling into the crook of his neck, hissing when his scarf gets in the way.

“Missed me?” Jungkook laughs. “You’re going to catch a cold, Jimin-ah.”

Jungkook slings one arm around the back of Jimin’s thighs, strengthening his grip on him and pushing him further up, then proceeds to close the car door and pick up his suitcase with his free hand. He carries Jimin inside like it’s nothing, and Jimin’s body is heating up despite the cold winter air biting at his exposed skin.

Jimin wants.

And he can feel Jungkook’s heart beating through his clothes, can sense how eager and excited he is, and once they get inside, Jungkook closes the door and drops his briefcase, both hands holding Jimin again, just as it should be, and when Jimin looks up at him, Jungkook’s eyes are sparkling like stars, and surely, surely, surely Jungkook is going to say it now, or maybe they won’t even need any words at all, maybe he will—

“Do you want to go Christmas shopping?!” Jungkook blurts out.

Jimin blinks.

But.

But what about Jimin’s charms?

What about Jungkook’s display of strength, clearly intended to impress a potential mate?

“…sure,” Jimin says, trying to smile.

Jungkook’s face falls a little. “I thought you’d like to go? We can do something else, too. Or are you hungry? Do you want to eat first? We could also eat at any place you like at the mall.”

He attempts to put Jimin down, but Jimin clings to him, tightening the grip of his legs around Jungkook’s waist, rubbing his face more aggressively into the crook of his neck.

Jimin hears Jungkook’s laugh softly, and then he feels a hand in his hair, gently massaging his head before moving to scratch behind his ears. The thumb of his other hand rubs circles into Jimin’s thigh, and Jimin purrs.

“Wanna sit down and cuddle for a bit?” Jungkook asks quietly.

Jimin shakes his head, holding on tight, curling his tail around Jungkook’s wrist for emphasis.

Jungkook’s phone rings, startling Jimin, and Jimin makes a displeased noise when the hand that was scratching behind his ears is removed so Jungkook can fish it from his pocket and pick up. Jimin never liked phones.

At least Jungkook keeps holding him, just starts walking up and down the hallway as he talks to the person on the other end of the line.

Jimin, getting progressively self-conscious, specifically of how his half-hard cock is trapped against Jungkook’s stomach, starts nibbling on Jungkook’s neck, whether to distract himself or Jungkook he doesn’t quite know. Either way it’s working.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Okay. Yeah. That can’t be helped now, we’ll just do our best to make up for it. Yeah. I gotta go now. Yes, let’s make it the first thing on the agenda. Okay. Bye, hyung.”

Jungkook tosses his phone towards the couch and slings his arm back around Jimin, rubbing his lower back right above the base of his tail. Jimin practically melts from the touch.

“You’re so cute,” Jungkook says, laughing softly. “Why are you so cute?”

“So you’ll take me Christmas shopping,” Jimin purrs.

And then you can fuck me under sparkling lights, he thinks, pretending to no one in particular that he wouldn’t happily spread his legs even if the only light in the room came from the stars shining in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yeah? You wanna go?”

Jimin nods, but he makes no attempt to move.

“Five minutes?” Jungkook hazards.

Jimin purrs his agreement.

Two hours later, they’ve made it through the worst of the holiday shopping traffic. The mall is packed. Jungkook feels overstimulated the second they walk in.

Jungkook should buy Jimin a phone. He has no idea how he’d find him again if he got lost. Then again, Jungkook very purposefully didn’t bring his, because he can only assume it would ring five times every half hour.

Just as he’s thinking that, Jimin slips his tail underneath Jungkook’s leather jacket to wrap it around his waist “So you don’t get lost,” he says sweetly.

It feels like the hybrid equivalent of keeping your hand in your boyfriend’s pocket, and Jungkook blushes helplessly at the thought. He’s been consulting Naver, of course, but he’s also been trying to subtly ask the one hyung he has who, coincidentally, is married to a cat hybrid about the kinds of things they like and dislike. He felt a little too shy to ask Yoongi himself, even though he always thought his hyung’s husband likes him. He isn’t sure what questions would be rude to ask, even if Hoseok hyung said Yoongi would surely be happy to help.

The thing is, Jungkook’s questions have all been very hypothetical.

He hasn’t mentioned Jimin to anyone, save for the passing remark he made to Seokjin.

Not because he doesn’t want to talk about Jimin—Jungkook is actually about to burst at the seams with barely contained excitement about anything Jimin. He hadn’t talked to Hoseok hyung in a while, and he’d had to stop himself every other sentence from mentioning Jimin.

No, that’s not it.

But…

Jungkook watches Jimin’s profile, the way his face lights up as he regards the store windows with childlike wonder, his eyes disappearing into happy little crescents, and his heart feels too small to contain everything he’s feeling, or maybe it’s too big, and maybe what’s hurting is the negative space, not the parts where love is overpouring, but the parts waiting for that same love to be poured back in.

Jungkook wants to keep this.

He wants to keep Jimin safe. Wants to keep him to himself.

Everyone always has someone else.

Jungkook wants Jimin to be that someone.

He wants it so bad.

And it’s foolish, maybe. But Jungkook has always been a bit of a fool when it comes to love.

And it’s so easy to be foolish when Jimin laughs at the jokes Jungkook stole from Seokjin, or when Jimin pouts, eyes big and pleading, as he stands next to the unreasonably large Christmas tree he took a liking to—a real tree—until Jungkook gets out his black card. They buy more Christmas decorations than Jungkook has ever seen in his life, and they stop to eat at a ramen place that Jimin picked out following the most enticing scent, sitting close together on the bench when the clear expectation would be for one person to take the chair opposite. Jimin feeds him some of his own bowl, and Jungkook would usually find that a little embarrassing in public, but he’s too hypnotised by Jimin’s lips to care. They look even redder, even bigger, somehow, from the spicy food, and Jungkook is desperately trying to will into existence just a single excuse to taste them for himself.

The food makes him tired in a good way, happy to let Jimin tug him along to whatever sparkly thing captured his attention, Jimin staring at fairy lights, and baubles, and all kinds of light-up decorative pieces, while Jungkook is staring at Jimin.

“Oh, oh, oh, should we get this? It would fit with the snow-shaped lights, don’t you think. Or maybe… oh.”

Jimin is looking up, and Jungkook is too distracted by how pretty he looks with the sparkling lights all around them reflecting in his eyes to question what made him stop in his tracks.

He looks at Jungkook, and their shoulders brush, and there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Look up.”

Jungkook blinks, raising his head obediently.

“Mistletoe,” Jimin says, and then his lips are on Jungkook’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Jimin doesn’t quite remember getting back home, or how they even got all their treasures back to the car. It’s a bit of a miracle they didn’t forget any of their bags.

All he remembers is kissing.

A lot of kissing.

In Jungkook’s car, while Jungkook kept whispering they shouldn’t do that here. He didn’t elaborate on why, and he also didn’t stop kissing Jimin, so it didn’t seem like too big of a concern.

Jungkook’s lips were soft and warm, and the metal of his piercings was hard and cold, and Jimin loved the contrast of it, loved the little whimper he elicited as he licked inside him. He tasted so good. Everything about Jungkook was so good.

They were eventually interrupted by an angry car horn, and Jungkook was quick to take them home, sternly telling Jimin to stop distracting him. Jimin had done no such thing. His tail brushing up Jungkook’s arm as he shifted gears could hardly be called a distraction.

The seats in Jungkook’s are heated, because in Jungkook’s life, everything is warm, always. If only Jimin could be in Jungkook’s life, too. If only he could always be this warm.

When Jimin wakes up, he is snuggled up in the arm chair, and Jungkook is in the process of carrying inside all of their purchases. He’s already put up the tree, and Jimin vaguely considers getting up to help, but he quite likes watching Jungkook work his muscles, and he hasn’t slept a lot that day. Especially in the winter, Jimin usually isn’t up before long after sundown.

Jungkook sighs once he’s put down the last bag, falling onto the couch. “I’ll get started on dinner in a second,” he mutters, eyes closing. “I’ll leave the decorating to you.”

Jimin, with much effort, rises from the chair to go join him, snuggling up in his lap.

Neither cooking nor decorating happens for another few hours.

Stay, Jungkook wants to say when Jimin sits on the kitchen counter, watching him cook.

Stay, he wants to say, when Jimin coyly asks to have a taste and Jungkook steps in-between his legs to give it to him.

Stay, Jungkook wants to say, when Jimin eats, and eats, and eats, loving anything Jungkook makes for him.

Stay, he wants to say when Jimin is decorating, and Jungkook picks him up so he can reach the top of the tree, and Jimin laughs, and he looks so, so happy.

Stay.

Jungkook wants to say it.

He wants to say it so badly.

He almost does, later, when they can’t seem to stop kissing goodnight.

“Come sleep in my bed tonight?” Jungkook asks.

“Just tonight?” Jimin teases, playful, like he knows already Jungkook would beg if he asked him to.

“Depends,” Jungkook nips his bottom lip. “If you’re a good kitty, maybe I’ll invite you again.”

It’s so fucking late already. Jungkook’s 7am meeting is going to be rough.

There’s not a lot of sleeping they get done.

There’s more kissing, though.

So much kissing.

Jungkook still can’t work up the courage to take things further, even while he burns with desire to touch and taste Jimin everywhere.

But maybe part of him wants to draw things out. Because there’s an infallibility to this, where that magnetism, that gravity is going to lead him, but Jungkook doesn’t know what the next chapter will be like.

If there is going to be a next chapter.

So as long as he can draw this out, he can daydream about a near future where Jimin will be his. He wants them to stay in this dream just a little longer.

Jimin is happy.

Jimin is so happy.

He wants to always stay this happy.

There’s nothing he wants more.

When Jungkook comes home from work the next day, there’s a car parked in his driveway.

His eomma’s car.

“Shit,” Jungkook hisses.

He told her a million times to call him and not just drop by announced!

Jungkook checks his phone to find that she did in fact call him.

Well, shit.

He peers inside her car window, and nope, she is not currently sitting in her car, so any hope Jungkook had that Jimin wasn’t the one to let her into the house evaporates then and there.

Fuck.

Jungkook stumbles up the driveway and is temporarily distracted by the wreath on the door that wasn’t there yesterday.

Jimin opens the door for him before he can put the key into the lock. Jungkook smiles at him but makes straight for the living room.

“Eomma, what are you doing here?”

“Is that a way to greet your mother?”

Jungkook is quick to hug her, but it doesn’t ease his anxiety. “You know I’m working. Why are you here?”

“I just thought I’d stop by on my way to the hotel in case you were home. Your friend Jimin,” she says, and Jungkook doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him, or the way she emphasises the word friend, “was so kind to let me in. He said you’d be home soon.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jungkook says, a little too aware of Jimin coming up beside him. “He’s a friend of Hoseok hyung’s. You remember Hoseok, right, eomma? Jimin needed a place to stay, and since I have so much space, I offered he could live here for a bit.”

“That’s so nice of you, my baby,” his eomma says, and Jungkook relaxes a little, even though she messes with his hair like he’s a child. “I gotta say, it’s so good to know that you won’t be alone again for the holidays. Your dad and I worry about you, you know?”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook says, which is a lie, of course, but he’s tired of his parents grilling him about his non-existent love life every conversation they have.

His eomma’s phone rings. “Ah, that will be Namjoon’s mother. She invited me for the reading. Are you coming tomorrow?”

“I probably can’t make it. You know I have work to do.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure Namjoon would have loved to have you there. He grew up so well. And he and Taehyung make such a lovely couple, even if I got to say I always kind of hoped—”

“Don’t you have to take that call?”

She finally picks up her phone. Jungkook turns away, taking a deep breath.

Jimin takes a step towards him, but Jungkook can’t have anyone touching him right now. He gestures for him to stay away, and he tries not to be crushed by the hurt and confusion on his face.

He can’t explain it right now.

“So was that all that you wanted?” he asks the second his mum is off the phone.

“Why are you so prickly? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I am happy to see you. I’m just tired from work.”

“Are you sure you can’t make some time for your eomma tomorrow? Our flight is this weekend, you didn’t forget, did you? I really wanted to see you before Christmas.”

“I could probably make time for lunch,” Jungkook says, which isn’t entirely true, but Seokjin will figure something out.

“That would be lovely. Your friend could come too, you know.”

“I don’t think Jimin will have time for that,” Jungkook says before Jimin can say anything. “Maybe next time, eomma.”

He is already steering her towards the door, just short of carrying her outside himself.

“Have a safe drive. Text me if there’s anything wrong at the hotel.”

Another hug, and some more motherly smothering, and finally Jungkook can close the door and breathe again.

“What the fuck was that about?”

Jungkook stills. “What do you mean?”

Jimin huffs. “Who the fuck is Hoseok?”

“A friend of mine,” Jungkook mutters.

“And why did you lie about knowing me through him?”

Jungkook finally turns around, but he is not prepared for the icy stare Jimin gives him. “Look, I just couldn’t deal with her right now. She’s been nagging me for years that I should find someone and settle down, and—”

“And so you didn’t want her knowing that you picked up a stray hybrid to warm your bed instead?”

“What?” Jungkook feels himself panicking. That’s not—He wasn’t—

“Isn’t that what this is about? You’re ashamed of me?”

“No,” Jungkook says.

“Then why did you lie?” Jimin crosses his arms.

Jungkook doesn’t know how to explain it.

It’s stupid.

He knows it’s stupid.

“If I told her what actually happened, she’d think I’m crazy for letting you stay here.”

Jimin laughs.

It’s not a nice laugh, and Jungkook realises just a second too late what he just said.

“Yeah? Is that what you think?”

“No, no no no no. Jimin. Listen to me—”

“You didn’t mind me all over you in front of strangers, but you don’t want your eomma to think we could be close?”

“No. That’s not it. I didn’t mean it like that. I just—She wouldn’t understand it—”

“I don’t think it’s that difficult to understand. I was having a hard time on my own, and you took me in. How is it difficult? How is it complicated? What part of that do you think she wouldn’t understand?”

“Look, Jimin, this isn’t something I expect you to understand, but I’m the CEO of a company, and I’m not supposed to do something like that. I’m supposed to have a partner, and children, and not—”

“What?” Jimin challenges. “You keep saying ‘it’s not like that’ but it actually is like that, isn’t it? So which one is it? Is it me being a hybrid? Or is it me being homeless? Or is it that I’m too dumb to understand how rich and important you are?”

“No,” Jungkook says, and he doesn’t understand how they ended up here, and he doesn’t know how to go back, and the way Jimin insists to paint him like the bad guy, like Jungkook is looking down on him when that’s not what he’s doing, when none of this is what he’s trying to do, when he really wanted to—“It’s not what I think. It’s about what other people think. And I try not to care about that, but there are certain things I don’t have the luxury not to care about.”

“So, you’re saying it would be bad for you if other people knew you let me stay here.”

Jungkook has no fucking clue what he’s saying.

“It’s not about you,” he tries to argue. “It’s about them. Not you.”

“And your eomma? Why can’t she know the truth?”

“I just—It’s just easier. I just didn’t want her to know.”

“Right.”

“Jimin, I just—” He takes a step forward, but Jimin immediately steps back.

“I think I heard enough.”

“No, please, listen to me, I—” Jungkook stumbles over his words, but he reaches Jimin, holding on to the sleeve of his zip-up hoodie. Jungkook’s zip-up hoodie, the one he put into the laundry basket just this morning. “I just want to keep you to myself.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, because everything Jungkook is saying is wrong.

“Well, but I don’t belong to you, so good luck finding someone else.”

“Jimin-ah—”

Jimin pushes him away and then he’s running out the door, Jungkook right at his heels.

“Jimin-ah!”

But the hybrid already switched into his cat form and dug under the nearest hedge, and it’s too dark to see anything, and Jungkook has fucked up.

“Shit. SHIT!”

He runs back inside, runs back outside to pick up the clothes, then back inside, closing the door.

Shit.

Shit.

Fuck.

He paces in circles, restless energy thrumming under his skin.

How did this go so wrong?

He just wanted to—

All he wanted was—

Fuck.

Jungkook needs to punch something.

His hands are shaking when he calls Seokjin’s number.

“Are you up for boxing?”

“Sure thing, boss. When would you like to go?”

“Now.”

Using Kim Seokjin as a punching bag doesn’t make Jungkook feel much better.

Neither does the soju at the bar they go to after.

“So fucking ungrateful,” Jungkook mutters. “I fed him. I took care of him, hyung. Who cares whether I’m telling my mum about him or not?”

“Are we still talking about a cat?” Seokjin inquires.

Jungkook drops his head on the table. “Fuck this. Christmas is stupid anyway. I’ll take down the stupid tree when I get home. And that stupid wreath, too.”

“You are not driving, and I would highly encourage you save any wreath related wrath for when you’re sober. And please don’t try to fight a tree, either.

“I like him so much, hyung,” Jungkook mutters, syllables slurred. “Why did I say all that? I never cared about people’s expectations anyway.”

“You do have a lot of tattoos and piercings for a CEO, and you wear them well, boss.”

“Would you take in a stray hybrid and let them live with you?”

“Sure. If I hadn’t done that 15 years ago, Hoseok wouldn’t have a husband now, would he?”

Jungkook sits up straight and immediately regrets the rash movement. “What?”

“Well, I guess Yoongi wasn’t technically a stray,” Seokjin amends. “But his idea of keeping himself alive was to drink chicken from a blender, Jungkook-ah. I made him my roommate for his own wellbeing. It was also nice to have a mobile heating pad at my disposal. You know how much I hate being cold.”

“You know Yoongi?”

“Of course. He was the one who told me to apply for this job. Did he not mention that?”

Their conversations usually revolve around music but, more often than not, it’s just Yoongi purring and Jungkook disassociating. So, no, Jungkook doesn’t think Yoongi mentioned that. He always assumed Seokjin was a friend of Hoseok’s.

“Anyway, I’m sure whatever you said wasn’t that bad. You’re one of the most kind-hearted people I know. I don’t know the exact circumstances, but sometimes people just argue, and there’s maybe not even a real reason for it, and once you have both calmed down—and, in your case, sobered up—you will realise you don’t even know what you were angry about, and you will apologise and make up. Unless, of course, you did say something truly hurtful. In that case, I would recommend grovelling. I think if you’re truly sorry, you can find a way for your feelings to reach that person, and you can still make amends. And if not… sometimes it’s just not meant to be, and that’s okay as well. Regardless, I believe you’re good, and I hope you’ll be happy.”

“… Jungkook-ah? Are you listening?”

Seokjin has to hand-deliver him back to his house.

Jungkook thinks maybe he threw up in his car.

He feels sick again when he sees the wreath on the door, and the Christmas lights in the hall, and the lit tree in the living room. Just an hour ago he considered tearing it all down.

What an awful person he is.

“Try to get some sleep, yeah? I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning,” Seokjin says.

Jungkook doesn’t answer.

Seokjin squeezes his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll come back. Give it time.”

Jimin doesn’t come back that night.

Or the night after that.

Or the night after that.

Or the nights after that.

And suddenly it’s Christmas Eve.

Alone again.

Jungkook tries to not say anything for as long as possible, but he feels too bad about it.

“Hyung, it’s the 25^th. I’m sure there are tons of people standing in line to spend the day with you. You really shouldn’t be spending it at the office.”

Seokjin looks up from his desk. “Have I entered some sort of alternate universe?”

“I mean it, hyung. Go home. Don’t you have someone waiting for you?”

Seokjin seems to consider it. “There might be someone, yes. But I haven’t decided yet whether I should let them wait a little longer.”

“Don’t,” Jungkook says quietly. “Take it while you still can.”

“Ah, I see what you’re saying. If there is an opportunity to be happy, you should always go for it.” Seokjin nods. “That’s my own teaching, after all. However, life isn’t always that simple.”

“But what if it is?” Jungkook asks.

He sees Jimin’s face in front of him, still, that angry face that now overshadows the memories of every smile that ever lit up his eyes because of Jungkook.

How is it difficult? How is it complicated?

“I can’t tell anymore,” he says quietly. “I don’t know if it’s something I made up in my own head, or if it’s him being unreasonable. Maybe I just didn’t explain it properly. I don’t know.”

“Have you considered it could be both?” Seokjin asks. “Truth isn’t always that straight-forward either, you know? One thing could be true for you. Another could be true for him. And the objective truth… maybe it’s neither here nor there. Maybe it’s somewhere in the middle.”

Jungkook sighs. “It doesn’t matter anymore anyway,” he mutters. “He’s gone.”

“So you’ve given up.”

“I never said I gave up,” Jungkook says, feeling on edge.

“It sounded a lot to me like that’s what you just said.”

“No. I said he’s gone. I didn’t give up. He left.”

“I agree it seems that he left. But I will maintain it also seems like you gave up.”

“I didn’t—”

“Have you looked for him?”

Jungkook goes quiet.

“Have you made an effort to find him and apologise? Or have you just been burying yourself in work pretending you’re not waiting for him to show back up on your doorstep?”

“What do you expect me to do? Run through Seoul and pick up every street cat I see?”

Seokjin shrugs. “Could be worth a try, no? He found your house before. Stray cats usually hunt and live in a territory, no? Can’t have gotten that far on foot, can he, now?”

The thought of Jimin, alone in the cold, trying to survive after staying with Jungkook, always warm, always able to eat as much food as he wants…

Jungkook’s stomach turns just thinking about it. “I have to go.”

Seokjin nods. “Yes,” he says. “Me too. I’m already late for lunch.”

“Good luck, hyung. I hope you find happiness, too,” Jungkook says in passing, and then he’s already out of the door.

“Your keys?”

Jungkook catches them when Seokjin throws. “Thanks, hyung!”

“Anytime, boss. Anytime.”

The 25^th of December.

Christmas Day.

People spending time with their loved ones, friends hanging out, families laughing together. Couples going on dates.

And there’s Jungkook, running up and down the Han river like a crazy person, trying to find a small calico in an impossibly big city.

Running, running, and running.

He forgot his hat, and he didn’t bring gloves, and his cheeks and fingers are bright pink from the cold.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop running. He checks in hedges and under cars. He calls Jimin’s name, over, and over, and over, again.

If he just keeps running.

As long as he keeps running—somehow, he will reach him.

Surely.

Surely, somehow—

The sky is pitch black when Seokjin’s car pulls into Jungkook’s street.

“Sorry to bother you again, hyung,” he mutters. His voice is still choked up from crying.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. You weren’t interrupting anything important.”

Yoongi grumbles something incoherent that makes Seokjin laugh loudly.

Jungkook isn’t sure why Yoongi and Hoseok are in the car with them, but it doesn’t matter much.

Jungkook tried.

And Jungkook gave up.

And Jimin is gone.

He’s gone for good, and Jungkook will never live this down. Will never stop blaming himself for letting him go.

If only he’d done better.

If he had explained better.

If he had chased after him immediately that night.

If he had done something.

If he hadn’t been so lacking.

Instead, he’d spend Christmas Day running in circles like a madman, getting lost, and calling his hyung, crying.

He even tried calling Jimin.

He’d bought a phone for him, just in case, even though Jimin seemed to feel greatly challenged and antagonised by every single piece of technology he encountered. But that phone had been in the pants Jimin had left behind in his driveway, and of course it was somewhere in the house now, long out of battery. It hadn’t stopped Jungkook from tearing up as he poured his heart out into the mailbox.

Then he’d called Seokjin.

“Want hyung to come inside and keep you company?” Seokjin asks.

“I’m sure he’s tired and just wants to sleep,” Hoseok suggests.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says quietly. “Sorry again for bothering you, hyung.”

“You didn’t bother me at all,” Seokjin says. “You should bother me more, actually. I love being bothered by you, Jungkook-ah. Have a good night.”

Jungkook doesn’t understand how he can be so cheerful about it. He has to know Jungkook isn’t going to sleep tonight.

“Didn’t you say you live alone?” Yoongi asks.

Jungkook blinks. There are lights.

There are lights on in his house.

No.

He can’t get his hopes up.

It might just be his parents, trying to surprise him.

He can’t.

Jungkook can’t dare to hope.

If Jungkook gets his hopes up, and it turns out he is wrong, he will—

“What are you waiting for?” Seokjin says. “It’s time to go home, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook feels for the door handle with numb fingers.

He stumbles out of the car and towards the driveway.

He can’t find his keys in his pockets, but he doesn’t have to.

The door opens by itself.

“Hi,” Jimin says quietly. He’s wearing different clothes. Not Jungkook’s. “Is it still okay for me to be here? …Were you crying?”

“I was looking for you,” Jungkook says quietly. “I was looking for you everywhere. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“You were looking for me?”

Jungkook nods fervently. “Looking for you. Everywhere.”

Jimin laughs.

Jimin is laughing, and it’s his little happy laugh, and Jungkook is going to fall apart.

“I came back because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone in the house on Christmas Day again.”

“Admit it,” Jungkook says. “You just came back for the tree.”

“Not what I’ve been hoping to climb,” Jimin says. “But it does look very nice. Reminded me how happy I was in this house.”

“I didn’t say things right,” Jungkook starts.

“I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Jimin says.

“You know?”

Jimin tilts his head. “You like me, right? I just wanted you to say that, I think. I just wanted you to say you like me.”

“I like you a lot. I like you so much it’s a bit scary.”

Jimin smiles. “I like you too. But it’s very cold with you standing out there, and me being in here.”

Jungkook takes a step closer, but Jimin doesn’t step back, just keeps smiling. So Jungkook has to take another step closer. And another.

Jimin stops him suddenly. “Ah.”

Jungkook blinks.

“Mistletoe,” Jimin says, and then he’s kissing him, and Jungkook struggles to kiss him back while trying to close the door behind him.

But the kiss is short and sweet, and if Jungkook had known it would be over so soon, he wouldn’t have bothered dividing his attention.

“You’re so cold,” Jimin says, holding his face between his hands. “Don’t you dare getting sick.”

“I won’t,” Jungkook says, because he has vowed to himself to never again do anything that could upset Jimin, and if that included being sick, his immune system would have to get with the program.

“Did you eat? I can cook something for you while you shower.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to do that.”

“I could lick you clean instead?” Jimin says, and Jungkook half-fears, half-hopes that it’s a genuine offer.

“I think I just need to sit down for a moment. Food would be good, though…” Jungkook looks up briefly and halts in his tracks as Jimin tries to manoeuvre him towards the couch. “There is no mistletoe.”

“Yeah,” Jimin says. “I forgot it at checkout. I just really wanted to kiss you.”

Jungkook snorts. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Can I ride you?”

Jungkook almost chokes on air. “I—what?”

“You said all I needed to do was ask,” Jimin says, smiling innocently.

And fuck.

Damn you, Kim Seokjin.

If Jungkook had stayed home, they could have had marathon sex all day. Instead, he used up all his energy on running around screaming, while Jimin was right here the whole time.

“I don’t mind doing the work since you’re tired,” Jimin offers. “You can make up for it tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t we—” Jungkook hesitates, cringing at himself for ruining the moment. “Shouldn’t we talk first?”

“Oh.”

“We can make it quick,” Jungkook says. “I just—I need to make sure I get this right.”

“Let’s sit first?”

Jungkook sits, and Jimin climbs into his lap, and…

“I wanted to say…”

“Mh? I can’t hear you,” Jimin laughs.

“’m said…”

“What was that?”

Jungkook’s eyes don’t seem to want to stay open.

It’s warm.

Jungkook is home.

Jungkook wakes up in his living room. There is a soft glow from the Christmas lights. There is also a person he adores more than anything softly snoring in his lap.

It feels like magic.

No.

Serendipity.

It feels serendipitous that somehow, this is Jungkook’s life.

It’s still the 25^th, though just barely.

And despite everything that happened today, despite the heaviness of the days without Jimin—somehow this feels perfect.

And maybe it isn’t perfect, not really, but Jungkook just knows.

He just knows.

“I was scared,” he says quietly, brushing through Jimin’s hair. “I was scared, because I can’t always deal well with unplanned situations, and I didn’t know my eomma would show up, and I wasn’t prepared, and I panicked. I was worried that she wouldn’t see you for who you are if she knew the truth. Like I know she will love you. I know that. But I just had this fear—and maybe it’s just something I made up in my head, maybe it wouldn’t have been like that at all. But I had this fear that she would disapprove, and then she wouldn’t want to know you, and she wouldn’t realise how wonderful you are, and how much happier I am with you. So I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t want to hurt you. I wanted to protect you. Not just you—us. Because this “us”—it still felt so small and fragile. I didn’t want anyone else to look at it. I didn’t want anyone else to judge it for how small and fragile it is. I wanted to let it grow first. I wanted that so bad. I wanted more time. I wanted you for myself—I meant that, even though it came out wrong. Maybe it is wrong. But I feel like—I feel like everyone in my life has someone, and I’ve never been good at sharing. I really didn’t want to share you. So I was scared, and I pushed you away, and I pushed my eomma away, too. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for being lacking. But I’m not ashamed of you. And I’m not ashamed of who you are or where you came from. I told Seokjin, you know? Well, I told him I adopted a cat, but I did think that at first. When I said it, I knew already but—it’s because I did want to share. I wanted to share, but I also didn’t. I wanted to talk about you to everyone I know so bad, but I also wanted to keep you for myself. I really wanted you to stay. That entire time, I wanted to ask you to stay. I got a key made for you, you know? I wanted to give it to you as a Christmas gift. Today. I—Oh!”

Jimin squeaks when Jungkook shifts his weight suddenly.

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. But. It’s still the 25^th. Wait.” He gently removes Jimin from his lap and dives underneath three, searching for the little parcel he hid there.

“There!” Jungkook’s entire body protests as he tries to get back up, painfully reminding him of how he chose to spend his day. “It’s still the 25^th. You need to open it, quick!”

Jimin giggles when he joins him on the floor, and he looks decidedly too awake and definitely not disgruntled enough to have been asleep through Jungkook’s soliloquy.

“I don’t have anything for you, Jungkook-ah. And don’t say me coming home is the gift.”

“I mean,” Jungkook says, blushing a little. “You were saying earlier—”

“Fuck, only one more minute!” Jimin tears into the wrapping paper. “Why did you wrap it like that?”

“I wanted it to look pretty!”

Jimin claws at the band and uses his sharp nail to tear it open, which probably shouldn’t turn Jungkook on as much as it does, but he’s thinking about Jimin asking whether he could ride him—did Jungkook just dream that? Please, please, please let it not have been a dream—and Jimin’s nails down his back, and—

“Oh.”

The key fell into Jimin’s small hand, and it fit there perfectly, together with a little crocheted charm of a gingerbread house.

“It’s the one you liked, right?” Jungkook says quietly.

Jungkook would have bought it for Jimin immediately, but Jimin insisted he had no use for a keychain, since he didn’t own anything to attach it to.

“It is,” Jimin says quietly. “But—”

Jungkook’s heart drops.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jimin says, laughing. “You’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?”

“But what?” Jungkook asks, anxious.

“Are you sure about this?” Jimin whispers. “I—” And now Jimin is crying, and Jungkook can’t stand it. He can’t stand it at all. “I haven’t had a home in a long time, you know? So if you’re not sure about this, I—”

“I’m sure,” Jungkook says immediately. “1000 per cent. I’m sure. I’ll call my eomma right now and tell her, if you want.”

Jungkook is already searching for his phone, but Jimin stops him with a hand on his wrist, giggling.

“You can do that tomorrow,” Jimin says. “For now… Are you still tired?”

And maybe it’s a tiny little bite pathetic how quickly Jungkook shakes his head. “Never been more awake.”

They don’t make it upstairs to the bedroom, or even over to the couch.

Jimin undresses for him right then and there, stretching out on the fluffy rug he insisted they’d need to put under the tree, and Jungkook can finally see the appeal of that, even if the white fluff is going to get everywhere. It’s something he will have to get used to, though. Something he can’t wait to get used to.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters, tracing Jimin’s lines with his hands.

“And you’re still wearing clothes,” Jimin points out, making Jungkook laugh.

“So impatient.”

“Yeah?” Jimin nudges the obvious bulge in Jungkook’s pants with his foot. “I’m impatient?”

“I’ve waited for you all my life,” Jungkook says.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Good for you, but I’m not gonna wait all night for you to take your clothes off.”

But he looks pleased, and Jungkook, instead of complying, crawls on top of him, grinning as he cages him in with his body. “You’re pretty,” he reiterates, and the kiss is just meant to be for emphasis, but Jungkook gets lost in it immediately, lost in the feeling of Jimin’s plush lips as they part for him sweetly, willingly, the way a flower’s petals may part for the sun.

Jimin’s hands are on him, and Jungkook needs to feel him, skin on skin, body to body, and so what if Jungkook is impatient, and so what if he almost rips his shirt when he helps Jimin to pull it over his head, and so what if his cock is leaking already before Jimin’s fingers wrap around his length.

“All that just for me?” Jimin asks, voice lilting. He’s using both hands as he gives Jungkook an experimental tug, thumb swiping over the weeping cockhead. “Wet,” he purrs, and Jungkook feels his face heat.

“Can I—do you wanna—”

“I want you inside me,” Jimin says.

Jungkook exhales. Thank fuck.

He was very much ready to beg.

Still is.

He has never needed anything the way he needs to feel Jimin’s tight heat around him.

“Do you have condoms?” Jimin asks sweetly.

Jungkook doesn’t control his face quick enough to hide his instant regret over the audiobook subscription he got Jimin, which the hybrid used predominantly to listen to smutty romance novels. Smutty romance novels most of which were written by Jungkook’s novelist friend, who just happens to produce very realistic smut.

It opened up a rather interesting conversation as Jimin had a few questions about how realistic the scenes actually were, and whether humans really got all those health check-ups and always used condoms. As a stay hybrid, Jimin’s own experiences were… different, to say the least.

Jungkook had answered his curiosity best as he could—and he’d also arranged some doctor’s appointments for him.

“Have you… been with anyone? Since you had that check-up?”

Jimin tilts his head, humming. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He breaks immediately, giggling brightly at Jungkook’s expression. “No, no, I haven’t. Don’t look at me like that, puppy. I heard someone wanted me all to himself, so I couldn’t do that now, could I?”

Jungkook feels unreasonably pleased by that.

The thing is this: the type of smut Jimin has been reading is meant to show just how sexy condoms and consent are, with characters who are always being smart, and sane, and sanitary.

Jungkook isn’t feeling particularly sane about Jimin, though.

“Then, really, we don’t need it.”

“We don’t?” Jimin asks. “Aren’t you always supposed to use one?”

“It’s advised,” Jungkook says. “But many people don’t.”

“But a lot do, right? So if it’s advised, we should use it.”

Jungkook bites his lip. “I don’t want to use it,” he says.

Jimin tilts his head. “No? Aren’t you worried what people might think?”

The hybrid’s mouth is opened like he’s about to say more, maybe bring Jungkook’s eomma into it, and Jungkook—

He snaps.

“I don’t fucking care what people might think,” he says. “First of all, no one is going to know, and second of all—I want fill you up like a fucking pastry, and then I’ll lick you there, make you purr for me while you come all over my face.”

Jimin blinks, mouth agape.

Then he giggles. “Was that so hard now?”

Jungkook splutters. “I—”

“Don’t get shy now,” Jimin lisps, rubbing their noses together. “I want all of that, too. Just tell me honestly, yeah? Then I don’t have to tickle it out of you.” He rubs his thumb over Jungkook’s cockhead for emphasis, making him whimper. “Even though I quite enjoy making you squirm.”

Jungkook huffs. “Spit or lube?”

“Are you sulking?” Jimin teases. “I’ll make up for it, mh?”

He leans back, spreading his legs wide, and Jungkook’s gaze drops between his legs, to that tight furl of muscle underneath his tail, Jimin’s pretty hole winking at him, all pink and inviting.

“Do with me whatever you want. I don’t mind if it hurts,” Jimin purrs, and arousal licks up Jungkook’s spine, his cock painfully hard, aching for friction. “Just make me feel how much you want me.”

Jungkook is going to do just that.

He’s going to worship Jimin.

He’s going to make him his.

He’s going to ruin him for anyone else.

Fuck, Jungkook hopes it will ruin him for anyone else.

He’s so far gone already. He doesn’t want to fall alone.

He can’t fall alone, not again.

He was never going to fall again.

It feels so silly now, of course.

Now that he knows what it’s like to love Jimin.

He’s not going to fall alone. He’s not going to fall without Jimin.

If he shows Jimin how much he means to him. If he shows him just how devoted he is to him.

“Are you crying?” Jimin laughs softly, drying his tears.

“I’m not,” Jungkook lies. “I like you. A lot.”

“I like you too,” Jimin says sweetly. “And I’ll like you even more with your cock inside me.”

It’s playful this time, more like he’s trying to lighten the mood then to hurry him along. Like they have all the time in the world.

And maybe they do.

And Jungkook very much likes the idea of spitting down Jimin’s crack and doing this quick and dirty, but as much as he believes Jimin’s words, he doesn’t know his body well enough yet, doesn’t know where his pain tolerance lies. So he opts for lube, and Jimin complains why it’s unscented, why it doesn’t smell like candy canes or gingerbread or cinnamon, but he shuts up quickly when Jungkook says the only scent he wants is his.

He doesn’t stay silent for long when Jungkook reaches inside him with long fingers, mapping out his insides, searching for that spot that will make him feel good. Jimin mewls when he hits it, and he keeps squirming, and gasping, and whimpering, his tail twitching wildly, and Jungkook is so entranced, so mesmerised by how fucking pretty he is, how good he feels wrapped tightly around Jungkook’s fingers, his own cock pulsing in anticipation.

And that overwhelming wave of need hits Jungkook just as Jimin reaches for him with hooded eyes, whining. “Please—” he begs, “Kook-ah—please—”

Jungkook kisses him, silent reassurance, because there’s no need for Jimin to beg, not now, not ever, because Jungkook is going to give him everything he wants, everything he needs, all that he has, all that he is.

He’s careful when he pulls out his fingers, Jimin’s tight hole all but refusing to let go of him. Covering Jimin’s body with his own, Jungkook lines up his cock, slicked up with the amount of precum he’s been leaking.

Jimin opens up so easily for him. It’s tight and so very warm when Jungkook sinks inside. A sweet moan slips past Jimin’s lips when he bottoms out, and Jungkook swallows it hungrily, licking into Jimin’s mouth. He’s been wanting this so bad. He’s going to make Jimin feel so good, he won’t ever want to leave again.

“Why are you frowning?” Jimin giggles, poking at his forehead. “Close already? Trying not to spill inside me? You can, you know? I like it.”

His voice dips lower on the last few words, and Jungkook needs to grip the base of his cock to keep himself from shooting his load. He didn’t even feel close to coming a second ago. Jimin’s voice is like the luring sound of a siren’s song, and, hearing it, Jungkook would be all too happy to wreck himself for his pleasure. But he won’t let that wave of arousal push him over the edge. Not yet.

He breathes through it, nails digging into the meat of Jimin’s thighs. “No.”

Jimin laughs at him. “No, you don’t like it?” he teases, knowing the answer damn well.

“No,” Jungkook says again, more stubbornly this time. “I’ll fuck you.”

Jimin’s hole squeezes around him, and Jungkook groans, pulling his bottom teeth between his lips as he drags his gaze up and down the glorious expanse of creamy skin and patches of soft fur scattered across Jimin’s bare body. His cock, a cute, compact size with a pink head, is leaking steadily against his stomach. Jungkook has no intention of giving any attention to it quite yet.

Jungkook brushes his fingers down Jimin’s thighs instead, hooking his hands under his knees, folding him in half to get a deeper angle. He snaps his hips, and Jimin moans, and he doesn’t stop moaning as Jungkook pounds into him, quickly finding his rhythm, finding just the right angle, the right spot that makes Jimin tighten like crazy, small, high-pitched whines punched out of him with every thrust.

And Jungkook swears he has better stamina than his, he can keep it going all night, seven days a week, he swears to fucking god he can, but it’s been a while for him, and Jimin is so fucking perfect, and he’s so pretty, and Jungkook has been wanting this so badly, has so badly wanted for them to become one, to feel Jimin in the most intimate of ways, see a view of him that no one else can get, get him just to himself, all his, and the combination of Jimin’s heady scent, the way his hole desperately squeezes his cock, and the sweet, sweet noises Jungkook is fucking out of him, paired with the soul-deep affection and adoration Jungkook has for him, something that’s so much stronger than just like, that feels so much stronger than anything Jungkook has ever felt for anyone before—

It’s overwhelming, but Jungkook still needs more, but he can’t—he has to—he needs—he needs—

He’s panting, and then Jimin is swallowing his groans, and Jungkook isn’t sure whether he leaned down first or Jimin pulled him in with a hand in his hair, or whether that was more of an afterthought, needing something to hold on to, and Jimin’s tail is curled around his wrist, but Jungkook is already reaching between their joined bodies, not needing any external motivation, jerking Jimin off with movements only turned more frantic by the way Jimin’s tail keeps tugging on his wrist.

It’s through sheer willpower that Jungkook lasts long enough to make Jimin spill over his own stomach before he comes, burying himself deep inside as he paints his walls.

They are both breathing hard, and Jimin is purring like crazy, and Jungkook has let go of his legs in favour of supporting his body with his elbows on either side of Jimin’s smaller frame so as not to crush him with his weight.

A silly thought, maybe.

Jungkook knows Jimin is tough, despite his delicate appearance. He’s survived on his own, out on the streets. He probably doesn’t actually need Jungkook fussing over him, but he is still going to. He still wants to. If it’s up to Jungkook, Jimin won’t ever have to lift a finger again. Jungkook will do anything to make him happy. To keep him happy.

Jimin is still purring when he raises his hands to cup Jungkook’s face. “You’re so good to me,” he says softly, and Jungkook is wax that melts against the hot seal of Jimin’s lips.

They kiss until Jungkook feels like something solid again. Jimin pulls him closer, wrapping a leg around him, and Jungkook sinks into him willingly, settling some of his weight against his body.

And then suddenly, before he knows what’s happening, Jungkook finds himself pushed onto his back and pressed into the rug, fluff sticking to his sweaty skin.

“My turn.” Jimin flips them around, and Jungkook’s eyes get impossibly bigger at the unexpected display of strength.

But Jimin’s human is pliant, practically limbless underneath him as Jimin leans down to steal another kiss. He giggles when pulls back and Jungkook tries to chase his lips. He falls back against the rug immediately, like he’s too exhausted to keep his head up.

He has had a long day, Jimin concedes.

“Lean back,” he says. Jimin trails kisses and kitten licks down Jungkook’s throat, gently nipping at his pulse.

He works his way down Jungkook’s body like that, teeth, lips, and tongue—and sometimes claws—just to see what makes him shiver, what makes him hide his face in embarrassment, what makes him arch his back off the rug. His nipples and his inner thighs are particularly sensitive, and maybe Jimin has a little too much fun playing with him like that.

Jungkook refuses to let Jimin’s mouth near his feet, no matter how much Jimin pouts, but Jimin wins when it comes to that spot underneath his armpit, where his scent is so much stronger.

The sensation of Jimin’s rough tongue on Jungkook’s balls turns out to be too much for him, but he relaxes when Jimin just takes them into his mouth, careful not to graze them with his teeth. Jimin likes the weight of them. Even with Jungkook just having spilt inside him, they are already drawing tight again.

When Jimin starts licking up the base of his cock, Jungkook won’t stop squirming. Jimin takes his time cleaning him up, the mess of lube and dried cum Jimin’s hole has left him, relishing the taste of him. Jimin almost regrets not making him come down his throat instead.

Jungkook is panting by the time Jimin reaches the head and teases along the leaking slit with his tongue. He closes his lips around the cockhead, looking down at Jungkook where he’s sprawled out prettily across the rug. Jungkook follows his every movement like he’s hypnotised. Jimin isn’t quite blowing him, not fully committing to bopping his head, but what he’s doing is far more than an innocent clean-up service.

Not that Jimin was going for innocence.

He keeps alternating between dragging his rough tongue over the cockhead, lapping up new precum as Jungkook’s cock twitches in his hands—it’s big, and Jimin likes holding the whole length of it, massaging it with circular motions of his thumbs rather than jerking him off—enjoying the way Jungkook squirms under his ministrations.

He immediately pulls off when he senses that Jungkook is getting close again.

“Not yet,” he admonishes. “Save it for me.”

“You save it,” Jungkook quips back. He barely has the breath to complain (which obviously isn’t stopping him), but he can pout fine with just his eyes. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

Jimin looks behind himself, and sure enough, he is leaking, his hole still clenching involuntarily.

“You’re so right. Wouldn’t wanna ruin your floors,” Jimin hums.

His creative solution is to turn around and sit on Jungkook’s face, whose answering, “our floors,” is muffled against Jimin’s ass cheeks.

Jungkook did say that he wanted to lick him there, after all.

And he makes good on his promise immediately, lapping at Jimin’s rim, and Jimin exhales a breath that is half moan, half laugh, because Jungkook is such an eager little puppy, and Jimin loves it, loves how badly Jungkook wants to please him.

When Jimin gently cups Jungkook’s cock with one hand and his balls with the other to keep them out of the way, intending to return the favour, Jungkook’s hands come up to grab his ass.

“Wait. You can’t—”

“Why not?” Jimin asks, confused, blinking at Jungkook over his shoulder.

Or intending to, rather, but he can’t see Jungkook’s face well with his own ass blocking the few.

What can he say—it’s a very well-trained ass.

“I never—” Jungkook starts, voice uncertain.

Jimin can picture him playing with his lip piercing as he cuts himself off.

“Let me try?” he asks softly. “It feels good. Trust me.”

“’m sensitive there,” Jungkook mutters into the meat of Jimin’s ass cheek.

“I’ll be gentle, then.”

Something grips Jimin’s tail, and he mewls.

“I’ll pull if it’s too much,” Jungkook says, and he sounds a little too smug for Jimin’s liking.

Jimin wants to say it’s unfair, but it seems like a rather reasonable compromise. And maybe Jimin likes it, but he doesn’t quite want Jungkook to know how much.

He circles Jungkook’s hole with his tongue, and Jungkook tugs on his tail immediately, gasping against Jimin’s rim even as he continues licking him in turn.

Jimin shivers, biting his lip to keep himself from whimpering.

In any other context, being pulled at his tail would set him on edge and make him hiss, but during sex, pain and pleasure mix together into something intoxicating, and Jimin knows Jungkook likes that swirling cocktail of electrifying arousal, too. He likes Jimin’s teeth digging into his flesh, just a little, and he likes his claws leaving marks on his skin, digging just deep enough to leave angry red lines without drawing blood.

The overstimulation of Jimin’s gentle but rough kitten licks where he’s most sensitive has to drive Jungkook insane in the best way.

But Jimin soon gets sloppy with it, easily lost in the feeling of Jungkook licking inside him to clean him up all while tasting himself, and Jimin starts rutting against his face, moaning shamelessly every time Jungkook tugs on his tail.

When Jungkook grabs the base of his cock to slip it into his mouth, Jimin explodes down his throat immediately, hips stuttering as he whimpers, high pitched sounds punched out of him as he rides that high.

So good.

Jungkook is so good for him.

Jimin is going to tell him that, too, as soon as he has the breath for it.

For now, he opts for turning back around so he can say it with his lips in a different way, kissing Jungkook deeply, tasting their combined scents from his mouth.

“I can still go,” Jungkook mutters, and Jimin giggles into the kiss.

“Good. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

“Wanna ride me?”

Jimin hums. “You want that?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure.”

Jimin pretends to consider it. “How sure are we talking?”

Jungkook’s answer is to rub his cockhead, hard and leaking, up against Jimin’s hole, where his rim is still tightening greedily around nothing. Jungkook’s dick would get sucked back in easily if he let it.

“Very sure,” Jungkook says, running his hands up and down Jimin’s sides before cupping his ass. “Move your pretty peach over here.”

Jimin hums. “Will you last longer than ten seconds this time?”

“Fucking try me.”

As much as Jimin likes lying back and taking it, he also loves being on top. He loves being in charge. He loves setting the pace, loves toying with his partner, deciding when they should come. If they should come.

And he loves looking pretty doing it.

He loves arching his back, throwing back his head, blinking down at Jungkook under long lashes. He loves the hungry eyes that track the column of his throat, the curve of his body as he rolls his hips.

He loves to be doing all that for Jungkook.

It’s cute how sensitive he is.

It’s sweet how determined he is, how stubbornly he insists to put Jimin’s pleasure first.

Jimin doesn’t mind helping with that. He’s going to make Jungkook feel good, too, one way or another, even if it may need a little bit of convincing for Jungkook to let him.

But right now, Jungkook’s cock is for Jimin to use as he pleases, to make him feel good, to hit him right where he needs it. That’s what Jimin focuses on, chasing his own relief, and he’s shameless about it, and maybe it’s more than shameless, maybe it’s obscene, the way he writhes and moans, like he’s putting on a show, like he’s performing for an audience.

In a way, he is.

He wants Jungkook to see him, only him, and think of nothing else but him, and get off on it, get off just on seeing and feeling how much he enjoys himself.

It’s when Jimin feels his pleasure climb higher and higher, his thighs burning as his movements become more frantic, that Jungkook’s hand curls around his tail again and pulls.

Jimin’s eyes glaze over and he whimpers, walls clenching hard around Jungkook’s cock.

Fuck.

“You like that?” Jungkook asks, breathless and eager, barely blinking as he waits for Jimin’s confirmation. “Want me to do it again?”

Jimin nods, suddenly not trusting his voice.

Jungkook’s smile morphs into a lop-sided smirk. “Are you sure?”

Jimin lifts his hips high enough for Jungkook’s cock to almost slip out of his ravished hole, only to sink back all the way down in one motion, planting himself firmly in Jungkook’s lap in an effort to fuck himself even more deeply.

Jungkook pulls his tail, and Jimin gets so tight when he does it, and it feels so fucking good.

“Yes,” Jimin whimpers. “More.”

He never quite finds back into his earlier rhythm, all broken moans and stuttering hips as Jungkook keeps tugging on his tail, and Jimin loses himself to the heat of it, that toe-curling pleasure that coils tightly in his belly until it snaps.

Jimin wails when he comes, it’s too much, he can’t breathe, his limbs almost give out, but Jungkook helps keeping him up, and Jimin can’t stop moving, wants to draw it out, ride that high for as long as he can even as overstimulation kicks in.

He collapses on top of Jungkook eventually, and he’s being littered with kisses, and everything is warm, and perfect, and sticky, and it takes Jimin quite a while until he realises Jungkook never came.

They kiss for what feels like hours, turned on their sides so Jungkook can lazily roll his hips, nothing more than shallow thrusts and slow, gentle lovemaking.

Jimin’s mind feels like it’s wrapped in cotton candy. Everything is sweet and slow.

When Jungkook finally spills inside him again, warming his insides, it’s so sudden Jimin doesn’t even immediately register it. They were kissing, and Jimin hadn’t even consciously started playing with Jungkook’s nipples. He only realised when Jungkook’s face started to taste salty with overwhelmed tears.

“You’re such a crybaby,” Jimin teases.

But Jimin loves this, too.

He loves being the one to dry those tears just as much as he loves making Jungkook cry like this.

In the afterglow, it’s still the two of them, lying in their combines messed on the now sticky rug.

There’s Christmas music playing on Jungkook’s phone, a playlist he made for Jimin. Jungkook would have been game to watch one of those cheesy wintery romcoms, too, but Jimin is refusing to move from where they are on the floor. He seems exceedingly comfortable with his limbs wrapped around Jungkook, and Jungkook is too exhausted to care about how gross they are.

Jungkook doesn’t have a care in the world.

It’s Christmas, and he finally did it right.

Jimin can’t quite believe Jungkook is just going to sleep after all of that.

Personally, Jimin could stay up talking until sunrise. Which, judging from the hints of daybreak creeping in, might not be too far away. But Jimin doesn’t mind when Jungkook’s replies turn mostly non-verbal, and he doesn’t mind when he stops replying altogether, dozing off as Jimin keeps sharing his musings about everything and nothing.

“It still feels a little unreal, you know,” he lisps, tracing Jungkook’s jawline with his fingertips. “It’s not that long ago that we didn’t even know each other. But it feels like a different lifetime, doesn’t it? I can’t imagine it now. I was a stray for so long but now that’s… It’s weird. Weird in a good way, of course. Guess I went from being a stray cat to being a stay-at-home cat.”

Jungkook is clearly trying hard to keep his eyes open to keep looking at him, but his eyelids seem to only get heavier and heavier, and his hands keep stilling in Jimin’s hair and at the base of his spine before they resume their motion, like Jungkook is fighting sleep specifically so he can keep Jimin happy and purring, and Jimin is so very endeared by him.

“Aren’t you going to get a job?” Jungkook mutters, words slurred together.

Jimin snorts. “No. I’m a house hybrid.”

Jungkook yawns. It’s a very long, very elaborate thing. “Does that mean you’re going to start doing chores?”

“Maybe,” Jimin says. “If I enjoy doing them.”

“Will you stop wearing my clothes?”

“I can wear no clothes,” Jimin offers sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“I noticed,” Jungkook says, face scrunching up like he’s about to laugh, but it turns into another yawn halfway. “As long as you wear clothes when we have visitors.”

“Do we get visitors? Should I be hosting dinner parties?”

“Maybe not. But I’d like to…” another yawn, “introduce you to some people.” Jungkook wriggles, cuddling closer. “Maybe bring you to events.”

“I’d like that,” Jimin says softly.

“Good. I like you.”

Jimin is rolling his eyes, but then Jungkook says, “I love you.”

It’s mumbled into Jimin’s hair, and the words take a moment to register.

“What was that?” Jimin asks.

“I love you,” Jungkook says, eyes fully closed now, but his arms briefly tighten around Jimin. Like he needs to be closer. Like it could never be close enough. “Please never leave again.”

“Leave?” Jimin echoes. “Why would I leave? This is my home.”

He has a finger hooked into the keychain, unwilling to part from it. The key’s shape is imprinted into the palm of his hand from how fervently he’s been holding it.

“Home,” Jungkook hums.

“I love you too,” Jimin says.

There’s no reply, because Jungkook is asleep already.

But that’s okay, Jimin thinks, as he rests his head on Jungkook’s chest, listening to the lullaby of his heart beating slow and steady in Jimin’s ear.

He’ll be able to tell him tomorrow.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Because Jimin lives here now.