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"Baby," Namjoon says, as Jungkook pinches his cheeks in the rear view mirror. They've been driving for two hours now, a well practiced journey from their apartment in Seoul to Pyeongchang county for the holidays. "We're like thirty minutes out, you wanna stop for coffee?"
Namjoon's family is the only one that Jungkook knows who really goes all out for Christmas. Every year, the extended family gathers in the Kim's winter cabin in Hoengseong-gun, a huge wooden house that in the Autumn, is surrounded by enormous maple trees in shades of artichoke green, Korean reds, and burnt orange foliage that crumbles to nothing in the winter.
Sometimes, when they can arrange a work vacation at the same time, Namjoon and Jungkook come up here alone for a couple of days, spend the time wandering the forests, enjoying the low-season at the nearby winter resort, and alternating between the cottage's four guest bedrooms, like they have all the time in the world.
Christmas is different. Christmas at the Kim's is intense in a way that Jungkook never experienced growing up in Busan. His family relished in the break from school and work, and sometimes, Jungkook's Dad would surprise his Mom with a small but thoughtful gift that made her smile—a rubber duck for the strange collection he's never quite understood the meaning behind, something between couples, a card with words just for her. Christmas has always been more about gentle romance for Jungkook, eating lots, taking advantage of the break from school to sleep in a little.
Namjoon's dad, coming from the U.S., had brought with him all of this other seasonal magic when he moved to South Korea and married Namjoon's Mom. Namjoon grew up with elaborately decorated trees, garlands that matched those autumn pines, houses crammed full of people they love, what feels now to Jungkook like decadent stacks of gifts that must cost an arm and leg.
The first year, he'd been so overwhelmed by it all—meeting the family for the first time in the midst of cinnamon and clove, hot chocolate that made his teeth ache. But now, its one of his favourite times of year, even if this year, things feel a little different.
"Baby? Coffee?" Namjoon prods, gentle. He's soft like a teddy bear today, dressed comfortably for driving in his wide grey sweats and a big oversized sweatshirt. Jungkook, who always felt the cold more as an omega, looks like he's going to a totally different party—his scarf double knotted, his good jeans a little uncomfortable on his waist. Sure, it's been three years already, but he still finds himself wanting to impress Namjoon's Mom, show her that her youngest son has found an omega that knows how to look after himself. Fuck it, he wants everyone to look at him and think, Shit, Namjoon did good.
"No, babe, I shouldn't. It's not good for, you know," He hisses like one of Namjoon's brothers might be hidden in the back seat, ready to snap up a juicy tendril of gossip for the breakfast table. It makes Namjoon laugh.
"You don't have to be so—Jungkookie," Namjoon reaches over to squeeze his thigh. "You sure you don't just wanna hit pause til after the holidays? I mean, you should enjoy the food. My dad is going to try and ply you with booze, for one."
Jungkook scowls. He hasn't maintained his strict conception diet for over six months already just to throw caution to the wind now and fuck it all up. His body wants a pup more than it wants his religiously observed morning coffee routine. Even if the decaf stuff Namjoon bought for him is something he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. Even if the matcha he tries to drink instead tastes like hatred and burnt out old grass. Turns out it had the same amount of caffeine anyway, so why torture himself.
"I just… I don't want to mess up my whole schedule. I'm going to be 28 next year, babe, I just—"
Jungkook puffs out his cheeks and folds his arms.
"28 is stupid young. You're still a baby. When we knock you up, its going to be the scandal of the town. Who gave that baby a baby?"
Namjoon is one of those alphas that is always in a good mood, always so soft and gentle when Jungkook is being unreasonable. It's part of the reason Jungkook was so attracted to him when they met, tired out of his ass of these macho alphas who liked to use aggression as a pick-up line. Namjoon is good, and pure, and wholesome. He smells like bay leaves and the skin on his hands is baby soft. A lot of the time, Jungkook feels like he woke up in some strange dream, with all of these things he isn't sure he's earned.
"Jimin-hyung was only twenty five when he had Bora," Jungkook points out.
"Jesus, yeah, and he never fucking stopped," Namjoon mutters. "Jimin is not exactly the yardstick for normal. Most Koreans are having babies in their late 30s now, if at all. Haven't you been following that omega movement?"
Trust Namjoon to make everything political, Jungkook huffs. "Well, my body wants a pup, so you better give one to me."
"Believe me," Namjoon says darkly, giving Jungkook a side eye that makes his belly smolder. "I want nothing more than to fill you up with my pups, baby. I'll give you so many pups we have to start making little beds in our drawers because we don't even have anywhere to put them, there's so many."
Jungkook feels the corners of his lips twitching, but his pout is resolute. "Hmm," he hums, casually. "You just focus on keeping your voice down when you're fucking me for once."
Namjoon raises an eyebrow. They both know that Jungkook is the problem in that department.
"I just want you to relax, and have a nice break. You work so hard at this hospital, and remember, the Doctor said—"
"Fuck what the Doctor said," Jungkook says with a big, overdone sigh. He's being bratty for the sake of it now, mostly because he's hungry. Because he's a little nervous about navigating this fertility shit with so many family members around them. Because, now that all he wants in the world is a pup of his own, one that looks just like Namjoon, its harder to be around all of their nieces and nephews without feeling things.
"You know, now might be a good time for us to practice our swap words, baby," Namjoon says, with his eyes curved into bough shapes, the sweet little curves they turn into when he smiles. "The twins are three now, they takes in more than you'd think, and I swear to God Bora and Suah know everything."
At the familiar sight of the maples, Jungkook's belly tightens with nerves. He peers in the mirror again, smudging the eyeliner on his lash line with a pinkie to smoke it out.
"Yeah, well, as long as we can get enough privacy for you to… blow my fudging back out, because my app says I'm going to ovulate tomorrow, and these fudging eggs need to be fertilized." When Namjoon takes a hard corner, he pokes himself in the eye. "Jesus fucking Christ, take it easy."
"Aw, babe," Namjoon smiles, indulgent. "You were doing so well."
⋆⋆
Taehyung is out front shovelling snow when they pull up to the house, and the twins, Yoongi and Hobi are sitting on the doorstep watching him in their matching boots.
"Samchon," Hobi squeals, exuberant and loud, running for the car while a stoic Yoongi remains seated on the porch. He's always been so quiet for a toddler, but Jungkook finds him oddly soothing, a tiny introverted counterpart in a sea of yapper Kims. Last year, while they were gathered around the fire to read The Night Before Christmas, a puffy faced Yoongi had dragged his blankie across the room and crawled up into Jungkook's lap silently like a sleepy black cat. Jungkook can honestly say that in his 27 years of life, he's never felt more honoured to be chosen for anything.
"Hobi-bobi," Namjoon yells back, slamming the driver door and sprinting across the blanket of snow with just as much enthusiasm as a three year old. Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the little smile off his face at the sight of the toddlers in their snow suits, fluffy hoods pulled close to their faces to keep their ears warm.
"Ugh, thank fuck you're here," Taehyung says, dropping his shovel and making for Jungkook. He pulls him in close to his chest and pats the younger omega's back. "I've had it up to here with the pissing, Jungkookie. This is why I chose not to procreate. Who chooses to toilet train their fucking kids over Christmas? I am so sick of Jimin's shit."
Jungkook grins. "Isn't he supposed to be your soulmate or whatever the fuck that is?"
Taehyung grimaces, and folds his arms, looking towards the open door where Namjoon has disappeared inside with the kids.
"He was my soulmate before he abandoned me for some alpha," he says seriously, a little crease in his perfect forehead.
"So your beloved older brother is some fucking alpha now, huh," Jungkook laughs. He has to get inside. While his suitcase is stuffed with cosy indoor clothes, and snow gear for the slopes, he's still wearing his city trainers—cute, but far from functional in snow this deep.
"You know better than anyone Jungkookie, they're all just fucking alphas at the end of the day. Shit," Tae stops at the door. "We're supposed to be using suitable language, aren't we. Who the fuck cares if Yoongi says fuck every once in a while? Is it really worth censoring myself for the whole fucking holiday?"
Taehyung is the only person Jungkook knows that swears more than he does. It's part of why they get on so well. Jungkook might be on his best behaviour around the Kims, might be a little too preoccupied even with projecting the image of a perfect, demure omega that every parent wants for a son in law… but he's not exactly the most conventional omega either.
Tae, for all his soft looks, isn't either. For one, he's seven years older than Jungkook, and mated to another omega that he never intends to marry or have kids with. He never yields to pressure on how to behave, stifling some of his more choice vocabulary in front of the kids not withstanding. Jungkook loves that about Taehyung.
"Jungkookie," Mrs. Kim calls from the kitchen when they undo their boots and abandon them on the porch. "Darling, hello."
She emerges from the kitchen covered in flour, her pink and orange apron knotted tightly around her waist. She looks like a sugar plum fairy, beautiful like all of her kids, but tinier. Seokjin, Taehyung and Namjoon are all tall, much like their father, but each of them have a pretty feature from their mother, too—Namjoon's deep dimples that Jungkook adores, Taehyung's mismatched eyes, Seokjin's lips.
"Eomeoni," he grins, wrapping Mrs. Kim up in his arms, huffing the smell of sugar cookies that mixes with her own natural alphean lemon.
"You've gotten so skinny," she gasps, taking Jungkook's hand and leading him into the kitchen where Namjoon is already eating at the counter. Mince pies. Jungkook thinks they're vile, too boozy and dry, but all of the Kim kids lap them up with custard. "Sit down, and tell me all. How's the hospital? How is that head nurse treating you now? I don't like her, I told Taehyungie that—"
"Mom," Namjoon laughs, his mouth full of crumbs. "Ease up. We just got here, he doesn't want to talk about work."
Jungkook opens his mouth to disagree, but Namjoon shoves a whole mince pie in his open mouth and shakes his head.
"Well, I worry," Mrs. Kim says. "You know, nursing is the hardest job in the world, you better be looking after our baby."
She wags her finger at Namjoon, and he rolls his eyes, wrapping a long arm around Jungkook's waist.
"He's treated like a prince. Doesn't have to lift a finger, I just wait on him hand and foot with a fan, and he says, Peel me another grape, Copernicus."
Jungkook kicks him hard on the shin. "Where is everyone else?" he asks, wiggling on his high bar stool to shake the car journey out of his legs, still stiff in his good jeans.
"Taehyungie is watching the boys, and Dad took the girls out skating. Jimin and Seokjin are having some much needed R&R in town, so its just us for a few more hours." She pauses, narrowing her eyes and listening out for the sound of tiny voices. The hallway is ominously quiet. "Enjoy it while you can."
"Maybe we'll catch a few winks, I'm a little pooped after the drive," Namjoon says when his mother's back is turned. He gives Jungkook the biggest shit-eating grin, and slides his hand off Jungkook's lower back, right around to the swell of his little tummy.
Jungkook flushes. "Um, yeah, exhausted, totally. Starving for… I mean, so tired."
"Well, I'm just doing Jiggae tonight. From tomorrow on, your Dad is going to plague us all with Western food until our cholesterol is through the roof, so have at it while you can. There's snacks in the cupboard to keep you going, so take a few up."
Mrs. Kim flutters around the kitchen like a butterfly, light handed and footed, nothing at all like Namjoon who could burn water. Jungkook has long since given up on being attached to his mismatched mugs, or any of the good crockery they'd been given when they bought their apartment. If Namjoon hasn't already broken it, he will soon.
"Can I help before we go, Eomeoni?" Jungkook asks, looking around at the steaming pots, the organized chaos of the big, open kitchen.
"No, no, sweetheart. Dad will need your roasting expertise for tomorrow's meat, go on and get settled in now. You're in the green room this year."
She flaps them out of the kitchen.
All of the rooms in the cottage are color coded, if you ask Mrs. Kim, and she sticks to her themes meticulously. Taehyung likes to moan to her about how not everything needs to match, but she's a woman in her 50s with a hefty expendable budget.
The green room is green as fuck, with deep emerald walls that kind of give Jungkook a headache. The bed has a million tiny pillows jengaed up on top of each other, some so small that they couldn't possibly have a practical use unless you're Stuart Little. Namjoon carefully moves them, one by one, onto the armchair in the corner with the patience of a Saint.
"Fuck the cushions," Jungkook says, pushing the door shut with his ass and bolting it shut. His belly puffs with a deep sigh of relief when he pops the button of his jeans, kicking them off and toeing out of them. "Get on the bed, babe."
"You don't need to tell me twice," Namjoon grins, big and boyish, just like the face in all of the photos downstairs—graduations, and proms, that one time he did a photo shoot in the mall dressed like Run DMC but looking more like Vanilla Ice. He thought he was so fucking cool. God, Jungkook loves how much of a hot loser Namjoon was then, still is now.
He adds his clothes to the jeans on the floor until he's only in his Calvin Kleins. The bonus of all of this healthy eating is that his body has literally never looked better. His abs are literally rippling in the light from the window, and—not that Namjoon can see it yet but—his ass his fatter and bouncier than its ever been. If childbirth is going to change his body forever, the way Jimin says it will, then fuck he's going to milk this body for everything its worth.
"Maybe we should fuck on the floor," he says thoughtfully as Namjoon sprawls himself out on the bed, somehow fully naked despite Jungkook never witnessing him removing a single scrap of clothing. His dick is admirably hard, with only a hand loosely shucked around himself. "The bed will probably make more noise, right? I could ride…"
"Babe, you really can, you ride it so well," Namjoon says, like he's a puppy who just got an A on a spelling test. Jungkook rolls his eyes.
He yanks Namjoon by the ankle, and lays him out on his back.
"I feel like I'm gonna get it right up in there this time," Namjoon says seriously, when Jungkook crawls on top of him, already slick enough that his briefs are damp. "No foreplay? I feel so cheap." He smacks Jungkook's ass lightly. "Come on, let me eat you out for a bit."
Jungkook pushes his shoulders back down to the floor and starts wiggling to get his own underwear off. "We don't have time for nonsense like that," he says sensibly. "You know what your family is like, they'll fucking pop up like a Jack in the box when you least suspect it. It takes ages for me to cum like that without a knot anyway, so just shove it in already."
Namjoon groans, and mutters something about romance, but his dick is hard, and his scent is swamping the room so Jungkook knows he wants it just as much as he does.
When he's managed to somehow remove his underwear while still straddling Namjoon, Jungkook reaches between them to grip Namjoon's erection.
"Babe, your hand always looks so small on my dick, don't you think?" Namjoon huffs out, his sigh soft and fluttery.
"Stop trying to get me to say your dick is enormous. We know its enormous."
Jungkook scoffs, rubbing Namjoon against his hole, lubing him up with his sweet, jasmine slick. When they have time and there aren't relatives in the house, Jungkook likes to get himself off this way—holding Namjoon down, not letting him do a thing, just rubbing off on him. But needs must, he has a knot to get into him. His eggs need some sperm, pronto.
He lifts up on his thighs and points Namjoon's dick upwards, ready to mount. Namjoon's mouth is soft, hanging open and his lips are slick. He's such a good alpha, a pretty alpha.
Just as he's about to slide it in, someone bangs on the door.
"Yah, Namjoonie, are you in there?" Taehyung yells. "Is Yoongi with you? I can't find the little fucker anywhere."
Taehyung starts wobbling the door handle, and Jungkook thanks his lucky stars that he remembered to lock it. He doesn't really want to start the trip off by flashing his brother in law his bare ass, even if it is looking its best, and frankly, they look like animals as they are, fucking on the floor like they're too horny for a bed.
"Coming, coming," Namjoon yelps, wrapping his hands around Jungkook's hips and hoisting him off. "Or fucking not coming," he mutters, pouting at Jungkook as he pulls his sweatpants back on.
Jungkook rushes into the en-suite bathroom to shower off the scent of slick and Namjoon unlocks the door. Thank God he brought so much scent neutralizer, knowing as he did that they had two, maybe three days max to get him knocked up this month.
Still. It's early days. They literally just got here. They have nothing but time.
⋆⋆
Later that evening, when his wanton appetite has abated and they're all in their Christmas' Eve Eve cosies, Jungkook and Jimin wrap gifts by the tree.
"So," Jimin hisses, under his breath. "Taehyung said you guys started fucking as soon as you got here. Bit much, isn't it? You literally live alone, didn't you get enough of that at home?"
Jungkook rolls his eyes.
Jimin's interpretation of the "wear your cosies" dress code on Mrs. Kim's holiday agenda seems to involve wearing as much silk as humanly possible. He calls them pyjamas, but Jungkook thinks he looks more like Hugh Hefner Junior. And everyone knows that silk is ridiculously uncomfortable.
Once, when he and Namjoon were sharing his first heat since they'd gotten together, he'd tried to slip into a little silk shorts and camisole set he bought to look sexy. But no one tells you that silk is not even breathable, and when you're leaking slick like an open waterfall, it likes to worm its way so far up your asshole it nearly splits you in two.
Never again.
But Jimin is one of those omegas who just seems to have their shit together. At 35, he's the same age as Taehyung, and just a year younger than his husband. Jungkook wonders if in ten years, he'll morph into someone sophisticated like Jimin—someone who has the time and care to get his nails done every week, who heads the PTA, who never seems tired even though he should be exhausted.
"You're just jealous because you and Seokjin have so many kids you can't get any without a babysitter and a two week appointment," he says, pursing his lips. He's wrapping some of the matching Christmas sweatshirts he knitted for the boys. Sure, they might be a little bobbly and he might have missed a couple of stitches, but its the effort that counts.
"You have no idea how much we fuck. We're just creative about when and where we do it," Jimin says with a dangerous glint in his eye. "We wouldn't have four kids if we didn't fuck, sweet Jungkookie."
"Appa," Hobi says, bouncing in on his space hopper. He's the cutest kid, with tiny dimples that look like freckles on the edges of his mouth, and sandy brown hair. "I want a snack. Yoongi ate all the tangerines, and I'm hungry."
Yoongi toddles in behind him, dragging his beloved blankie behind him.
"Yoongi," Jimin says sternly, though how he can bear to reprimand the little angel is beyond Jungkook. Yoongi is the sweetest child on the planet, and Jungkook won't hear otherwise. "We talked about sharing our snacks with Hobi, didn't we?"
Yoongi blinks, slow and purposeful, and Jungkook's heart starts to ache when his lip wobbles.
"Oh, come here you big crybaby," Jimin sighs, holding out his hands.
Yoongi toddles over, right past Jimin, and lands himself in Jungkook's lap—pushing his fluffy black hair up against Jungkook's chin and nuzzling into his chest. He's still too young to have much of a scent, softer yet because his twin and he are betas, but he's old enough now that the babyish smell of milk has started to fade on his skin. Jungkook feels a crushing hand around his heart at that, the thought that his quiet little friend is growing up into a real, little boy.
"Oh it's like that is it, Mister," Jimin scoffs. "Hobi, where are your sisters? And what the heck is that smell?"
Jimin hoists Hobi up on his hip right as the little guy starts trying to chew one of the juicer branches on his Grandma's Christmas tree, his space hopper rolling across the room and knocking over one of the free standing reindeer stuffies.
"Bora won't color with me, she's mean," Hobi whines, making grabby hands at Jungkook and Yoongi now that he's realized that his Appa is annoyed. "They're playing hard games with Samchon, I don't like it. Appa," he gasps, pausing suddenly with a shocked look on his face. "I went pee."
Jungkook snuggles into Yoongi, who might already be asleep. His lower lip is wet with sleepy drool, and Jungkook drags a knuckle gently over his mouth to dry it.
"Do you mind, Jungkookie?" Jimin groans, looking distastefully at the dark wet spot that's spreading over his hip.
"Go on, I got him," he says, even though holding Yoongi like this on the floor is uncomfortable. He's so tiny and warm and precious, Jungkook might never move again. Christmas music is floating in from the kitchen where the girls are giggling, and the room is cosy, the crackling hiss and pop of the fire almost lulling him into sleep right after Yoongi.
He smells Namjoon before he sees him, his bay leaf scent almost toasted around the edges like he's been rolling in campfire, or napping in front of the hearth. Jungkook gazes up at him with big, reproachful eyes to shush him, but Namjoon is looking at him.
"Oh," Jungkook says softly, his smile a little bashful and shy. Even though its just Namjoon, his mate. It feels so different though, to be looked at when he's soft and cosy like this, holding a pup. God, he so badly wants this to be their life. Wants Namjoon to look at him soft and tender like this, like he's everything he's ever wanted.
"You look so good together, baby," Namjoon says, crawling down onto the floor. He grabs some of the bigger scatter cushions from the sofa, and wedges one between Jungkook's back and the wall, nudges him back gently so he can rest his back. Yoongi stirs in his sleep, but he only nestles further into Jungkook's neck.
"Where are the girls?" he whispers, as Namjoon pushes the other scatter cushion in beside him and slides in. He takes Yoongi's little socked feet and stretches them out over his own legs, takes some of Jungkook's weight against his shoulder too.
"They went upstairs to watch a movie in our room," he says. "Babe, I don't know what the hell it is, but you look so sexy with a baby."
He leans in, presses little kisses over the side of Jungkook's neck, gently moves Yoongi so his head is against the omega's belly now.
"Ugh, literally cannot wait for tonight when everyone's asleep. I've had a mental boner all afternoon thinking of you riding me on the floor, I mean fudging hell."
Jungkook smacks his hand away when Namjoon tries to slide it up over his chest. "Down boy," he growls, bearing his teeth. "I have a pup on my lap, you freak."
Namjoon makes big deer eyes at him, and even though he's not as good as Jungkook at it, he does look cute enough to soften his mate.
"I know baby, I know, I just want a little kiss. Just a smooch, come on," he whines, licking the edges of his own much bigger, much sharper teeth.
"Hey, stop it," Seokjin says from the doorway. He's still wearing his coat, and there's powdery snow all over his broad shoulders. "Not with my pup in your arms you don't."
He takes Yoongi from Jungkook's lap and kisses his brother in law on the cheek as he does it. "You look good, Jungkookie," he nods, as he wraps Yoongi's soft navy blue blanket around his shoulders. "You on the other hand," he grimaces at Namjoon, still in his sweatpants from earlier. His dark rooted hair is tousled and even though Jungkook has sworn to love him until his dying day, in all of his forms, the guy could really use a shower. "You're getting your alpha stink all over Mom's cushions. Have a bit of shame."
Namjoon just rolls his eyes, and pulls Jungkook onto his lap. "You better go now if you don't want to see something you'll regret, big brother," he cackles, sinking his teeth into the side of Jungkook's neck, right over his mating bite.
"Horny freaks," Seokjin mutters and makes for the kitchen. "Yah, be ready at eight, we're going to the bar. No sweatpants allowed."
Namjoon groans into Jungkook's skin, his nose snuffling at the scent gland in a way that's not dissimilar to Yoongi. Jungkook might be taller than the average omega, a little unusual, but he's always been proud of his scent—the light jasmine, the soft undercurrent of cherry blossom. While he often looks just like Namjoon does now, scruffy in his baggy clothes, Jungkook also loves to be soft and clean, to feel pretty. Namjoon sighs into his neck, and it starts a little, vibrating purr in Jungkook's chest.
"We could fuck in the shower before we go?" he whispers into Jungkook's ear, clamping his arms around his waist so Jungkook's ass is pressed against his already hardening dick. "I don't know, seeing you with Yoongi just makes me want to breed you so bad, baby. I can't help it."
Jungkook sighs back into his chest and lets himself be kissed, his head falling to the side where Namjoon can just reach his lips.
"We shouldn't do this here," he says, but it doesn't stop him pushing down on Namjoon's lap. "Lets go upstairs, yeah?"
"Arggggh," Namjoon groans, like he's a real dog and Jungkook's in heat.
He laps at Jungkook's neck and bites the scruff of his neck. It makes Jungkook laugh. One of the best things about Namjoon, Jungkook thinks, one of the things that makes them so compatible, is that they're both cool with sex being a little goofy. Namjoon doesn't take himself too seriously, and so he's up for almost anything. He makes Jungkook laugh when he's fucking him, and that makes Jungkook feel closer to him sometimes than dirty talk does—though he's up for a bit of that too.
"Why are you licking Jungkookie-samchon's neck?" Bora asks from the doorway, and Jungkook swears he's never moved faster in his life. He's on the couch, stretching casually before Namjoon has even managed to cover his lap with a cushion.
"Ah, you know, he had a little—" Namjoon fumbles, and Jungkook can't help but laugh at the absurdity of this day already.
"Your dummie Samchon put nutella from his cookie on my neck, Bora," he says with a huff, frowning at the little alpha. "Isn't that so mean? He got his gross spit all over me."
Bora narrows her eyes and looks between them, like she's certain there's more to the story than what she's being told. She might only be nine, but she's whip smart like that. She reminds Jungkook so much of Seokjin, it's wild. She even has his sense of humour, the same loud laugh.
"That's not very nice, Samchon," she says after a nail biting pause during which Namjoon turns crimson. "Taehyungie told me that alphas have to learn to be respectful of omega's bodies."
Namjoon has never looked more chastened in his life. Schooled on consent by his nine year old niece, this alpha.
"Absolutely right, Bora," Jungkook nods in approval, crossing his arms across his chest. Namjoon winces, and shoots him a hurt look.
"Well, uh," he says, hangdog, his eyes so droopy now he looks a little like he's just been kicked. "Your uncle Jungkookie and I were just about to take a quick shower… I mean, ah, he's going to shower. Very alone. I'll be… picking out jeans."
He looks at his baggy sweats, forlorn and picks at the stitching.
"But Daddy said that Jungkookie would paint my nails," Bora says, matter of fact, with her own tiny fists on her hips. Fucking Seokjin.
"We're getting ready to go out though, chick," Namjoon says, tossing the pillow back onto the sofa and getting up off the floor. He lays a heavy hand on her shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. "I think its just you guys and Grandma and Grandpa tonight."
Bora looks at him like he's an idiot, and Jungkook can't keep his laughter in. It's exactly how Seokjin does it.
"But Jungkookie already looks good," she says, looking innocently at Jungkook's still damp hair, scrunched and curly, the oversized camel sweater and black jeans he wiggled into after his horny-shame shower earlier. "You should really dress nicer though, Samchon."
"So I'm told," Namjoon grumbles as he shuffles from the room with one last betrayed look over his shoulder at Jungkook.
"Right," he says, smacking the sofa cushion beside him. "What are we doing today, madam? Polish and file? Glitter extravaganza?"
Bora giggles.
⋆⋆
The bar is only fifteen minutes from the house by car, the only one in town. It's quaint and warm, a little hole in the wall that turns feral at this time of the year, as college kids come home to their parent's houses and swarm here in their droves. And tonight, it's packed.
The vibe is decidedly casual, even compared to Jungkooks simple outfit, but both of the other omegas are dressed for a night out—Jimin in purple silk and pants that fit him like a glove, Taehyung in a strange sequined red shirt that only he could pull off. Namjoon and Seokjin look good too, more casual in their jeans and jackets.
Sometimes, when they're out in public like this, Jungkook likes to watch his mate across the busy bar, his long legs and dark glasses, his broad back and shoulders. Sometimes, when they're out in public, he has to pinch himself that he even bagged Namjoon in the first place.
"God, I feel like I'm eighteen again, every single time," Namjoon groans as he and Jungkook stand shoulder to shoulder just inside the door. There are big alpha guys commandeering the pool table, a little corner of people dancing by the bar's only jukebox, and the bar itself is crammed full of guys trying to get the omega pulling pints' attention. "There are so many people who I like, recognize, but seriously, I can't remember a single name. I think I kissed that guy over by the toilets on Christmas back in college."
Jungkook scowls, feeling even more disinclined to be there. "I thought you were a total virgin when we met and had never even looked at another omega."
He raises an eyebrow, and Namjoon clings to his waist. His grin is big and goofy.
"Oh yeah, baby, I'd never even tasted slick before you," he nods, like a Labrador. "I'd never even made eye contact with an omega, and if I did, they definitely weren't as beautiful as you are, you know? How could they be when they didn't have your eyes."
Jungkook coughs, small and delicate, then makes for the bar. "Come on, you can buy me something sweet to make up for your slutty past," he says, pushing his belly up against the bar.
Namjoon pushes up behind him and kisses his hairline, the little curls at his ears. "Margherita? Strawberry or plain?"
Jungkook bats his eyelashes at the barmaid, because if they're waiting on Namjoon to get her attention they'll be here all day. If he has to take advantage of the fact that other omegas always dig what he's putting down, then so be it.
"Raspberry," he pouts, sniffing a little. "But make it virgin. I'm serious about the not-drinking. My app already said that—"
"Baby," Namjoon coos, a soft little whine against his skin. "Baby. Light of my life, sunshine of my loins—"
"Babe, that does not mean what you think it does," Jungkook groans.
"Owner of the biggest, prettiest eyes in South Korea," Namjoon continues, his voice keening louder. Jungkook flushes and pinches his thigh. "Pretty angel that makes me come so hard I see stars whenever he lays that pretty, pink mouth on my massive—"
"Namjoon!"
"I just think, you know, forget about the app for one night. Believe me," he says stoically, looking off into the distance like he's remembering the days of yore. "I'm going to fuck you so good later you'll wake the whole house up. We're going to get that baby in there one way or another."
Jungkook groans, but he's cut short when the barmaid takes their order. He can see Taehyung waving them over to a table near the jukebox, Jimin and Seokjin already slow dancing, even though the bar is blaring bubblegum pop.
"Go," Namjoon says, smacking his ass and angling his hips in the direction of the table. "I got this, baby."
Jungkook winds his way through the crowd of smelly alphas, wrinkling his nose at the prevalent scents of black vanilla, aqua bergamot, brutal axe wound, and countless other things that sound like a deodorant commercial. He's so, so lucky he has Namjoon, because its at times like this that Jungkook realizes how slim the pickings truly are when it comes to alphas.
"It's happening in here," Jimin beams, and sometimes Jungkook thinks his brother in law would be the least cool person in the universe, if he wasn't also sickeningly beautiful.
"I've fucked like, half of the people in here," Taehyung says, and Jungkook isn’t really sure why he sounds so proud of himself about that.
“Is Hyeri coming?” Jungkook asks, scanning the crowd in the bar for Taehyung’s mate.
Sort of mate.
Life partner. They haven’t bitten each other, because Taehyung says its barbaric, and honestly, Jungkook gets it. In theory. In practice, however, the night Namjoon bit him was the best of his life. It was the first time in his life that he’d ever come totally untouched. Namjoon encouraged him to bite back, too, even if it wasn’t traditional. Even if his teeth were barely sharp enough to make a true, lasting mark. He managed it, and he still felt a rush of pride every time he traced the scar above his mate’s clavicle with a gentle finger.
“She’s working all over Christmas,” Tae grimaces, and as a nurse, Jungkook gets it. Hyeri works in a hospital too, as an E.R. doctor. She’s one of the only doctor’s Jungkook doesn’t hate on sight, plagued as he’s been by the incompetence of the ones in his own workplace—the vast majority of whom act like nurses aren’t holding the entire place up with their bare hands while they fanny about with their premium referrals.
“Well, more reason to get hammered,” Jimin says, stretching his neck to look over jungkook’s shoulder. “Where the hell is Namjoon? I’ve got exactly—” He checks his watch. “Three hours max until Yoongi wakes up and Eomeoni phones us to come home, and I plan to drink at least six margaritas in that time.”
“He’ll be fine with your Mom, honey,” Seokjin reminds him, patting Jimin gently on the back. Everyone knows that when Jimin gets drunk enough, he likes to cry about how much he misses his kids, even though he’ll spend the rest of the vacation moaning about how much he needs time away from them to be an “adult” again. After the fourth drink, a herd of wild horses couldn’t hold him back from taxiing back home to the kids under the pretence that Yoongi is going through a clingy phase.
Jungkook sighs. At least , as the only sober one tonight, he’s not going to wake up at the crack of dawn feeling like garbage in someone else’s house. The closer he gets to thirty, the more harrowing his hangovers seem to be getting. Gone are the days of just rolling out of bed at 2pm post-college party, draining three ramyun cups and going about his day. These days, Namjoon—who miraculously, at 31, still doesn’t get hangovers—has to wait on him hand and foot, feed him the good fizzy painkillers, and coax him out of bed well into the evening. And those hangovers follow him right into work on Monday too.
It’s crazy to think how much his life is going to change if they get pupped. How much he wants to leave that part of his life behind. It’s crazy to think of himself as a totally different Jungkook, profoundly changed by another human he hasn’t met yet. It sends a chill down his spine to even think about it, and sometimes, Jungkook doesn’t know if what he’s feeling is excitement or true fear.
“Okay, is that Park Hana over there by the door, because I swear to God she’s been giving me the eye since we got here,” Namjoon says, sliding a crowded circular tray onto the table. "She looks totally different without the headgear."
Seokjin’s eyes go narrow in mirth.
“Isn’t that the mousey beta girl you went to the Jingle Bell Ball with back in high school? The one who used to call the house phone every fucking Christmas and pretend to be your tutor?”
Taehyung cackles at the memory, already reaching over the table to clink glasses with Jimin and Namjoon.
“Go easy, babe,” Jungkook hisses in Namjoon’s ear when the tequila goes down a little too quickly for his liking. He sips his virgin cocktail with a frown, and makes a pretence of wincing so Jimin doesn’t sniff him out.
“It’s all good, baby, I’m going to stop after three.” He leans in close to Jungkook’s ear, his breath hot with liquor.
“Jungkookie,” Taehyung coos, making his eyes big and shiny.
“No,” Jungkook says with his mouth pursed. “Absolutely fucking not. Fat chance in hell, not again.”
“Come on, don’t be so boring. You’ve become such a snooze since you let Namjoon bite you,” Taehyung whines. His face is already pink from the first drink. “I’ve always said it, an alpha will drain every ounce of life out of you if you let them. You're going to start getting wrinkles soon with the burden of dragging his dead weight around, you know.”
Jimin nods in solidarity, even though he can fucking talk. He’s probably just smug that Jungkook is on the end of one of Taehyung’s rants for once.
“Um, hello?” Namjoon yelps, slamming his pint glass down on the table, little marshmallow puffs of bear foam flopping down onto his tanned fingers. “I’m litearlly your baby brother? The only life I’m sucking out of Jungkook is through his—”
“Namjoon,” Jungkook gasps, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. Not that he should bother, all Kims are the same. Despite their wholesome upbringing, every one of them grew up vulgar.
“Babe, just go sing with him, you know he’s not going to stop needling you,” Namjoon says, rubbing Jungkook’s back gently.
Taehyung grins at him, smug. “Yes, baby. Come on, let’s do Purple Rain. I love when you cry at the bridge.” He downs his second drink, and nods to Jungkook like he expects him to follow. “And remind me to have a chat to you later about letting an alpha infantalize you like that like you’re what, five years old?"
He sends Namjoon a withering glare. "All alphas are the same, fuck sake.”
"Why are you like this?" Namjoon sighs, his own eyelids heavy and long-suffering. He takes such a hefty gulp of his beer that he manages to sink half of the pint in one go. Jungkook bristles, but lets himself be dragged across the bar to the crowd at the karaoke machine.
Tae punches in the number for Purple Rain, though he really should have it memorized by now, they sing it ever year—Jungkook growing increasingly reluctant without any Dutch courage. Purple Rain turns into All The Things She Said, then there's a round of ABBA, and once Taehyung is sufficiently loose and a small crowd has gathered, Jungkook is elbowed off stage so Taehyung can croon out a slushy version of Bing Crosby's White Christmas.
When he gets back to the table, Namjoon's cheeks are flushed, and there's a fine layer of sweat on his brow. Jimin looks at Jungkook smugly as he takes in the army of empty glasses.
"Baby," Namjoon hiccups, his glasses as steamed as he is. "You're so talented. Your voice is like, hic—you know that song where they're like, oh fucking… angels singing or whatever, hark the lads." He frowns in concentration at Jungkook, like he's seeing more than one omega floating in big, happy circles. "It's like you're the—hic—angel, baby."
"What the fuck, Jimin," Jungkook spits. "What did you do, roofie him?"
"Ease up, Jungkookie, it's Christmas," Seokjin laughs, wrapping a long arm around his little brother's shoulders. "And anyway, it's not even our fault. That omega over there sent us a whole tray of drinks."
"Think her Dad owns his place," Jimin adds, sipping from a pink curly straw that wouldn't be out of place in the Copacabana, never mind back-arse-nowhere, South Korea in the depths of winter. To be fair, now that Jungkook is really looking, they're all pretty drunk.
He sighs, and sinks back into his seat, reluctantly, narrowing his eyes at the bar. It could be any of the omegas, to be fair, half of them would love to sink their teeth into Namjoon.
"To think," Jimin says, sly. "In another life, Namjoon could be mated off to someone down here. Living in a winter cabin with some country lad called Bok-soon, drowning his sorrows here very Saturday night with the boys."
Seokjin cackles at Jungkook's face, but even drunk, Namjoon is sharp.
"Believe me, Jiminie Cricket, if it was any of us, it would have been Seokjin. He was such an Alpha-Whore back in the day. I'm surprised he didn't pup someone up before he turned—"
"Yah," Seokjin smacks him hard on the shoulder, and suddenly Namjoon is drunker again, his big eyes innocent, his large upper body wobbling like a bowling pin. Jungkook leans in closer to steady him, and Namjoon's smile goes dopey. He nestles into the crook of Jungkook's neck, taking big huffs of jasmine that only seem to make him more air headed.
Jungkook sticks out his tongue. "You play with fire, you get burned, Jimin-ssi," he cackles at the red-faced omega. "But hang on, who the fuck sent a tray of drinks to my mate?"
Jimin, probably deciding that its more fun to be on Jungkook's side than to suffer his ire, points innocently at the bar where a guy and girl have their heads pushed together.
He's about to use Seokjin as a prop to keep Namjoon afloat when Taehyung lands back at the table, and Jungkook's view of the treacherous pair is blocked. Good for them. Coming onto someone else's mate when he's literally sitting right here? He leans in and laps gently at the curve of Namjoon's jaw.
"Baby," Namjoon giggles, his breathing heavy like he's seconds away from sleep. His head is heavy on Jungkook's shoulder now, his hair shiny with some borrowed shampoo, tea tree, or something clean that melds with his scent beautifully. "You're gonna make me knot in public if you keep doing that."
"Yah, calm yourself down," Seokjin rolls his eyes, and Taehyung positively gags. "You might as well piss on his leg at this rate."
"I hate this fucking claiming of territory bullshit, like another person is something you're entitled to as property just because you chose to love each other," Taehyung says, sipping his gin. Beside him, Jimin rolls his eyes and makes a gagging face at Jungkook. They love Taehyung. They really love Taehyung, but he doesn't half love the sound of his own voice, sometimes.
"I would never piss on Jungkook unless he asked me," Namjoon said, sloppy. "Consent is—hic—important. Now me, he can piss on me whenever he wants. Even Jungkook's—hic—piss smells pretty, like fucking roses."
"And on that note," Seokjin says with a deep sigh, "I think it might be time to call the Grandad relocation service."
Jungkook giggles as Namjoon stuffs one of his hands into the pocket of his jeans.
"Is it really necessary that we call our own father Grandad, or worse, fucking Papa, when your kids aren't even around?" Taehyung asks. "Firstly, who the fuck are we with this Papa shit, the Von Trapps? What's wrong with a good old harabeoji?"
"Right, he's not my Papa," Namjoon adds, drooling through Jungkook's sweater.
When the drunkest among them are all stacked into the back of Mr. Kim's people carrier, Jungkook slides into the passenger seat.
"Good night, Jungkookie?" Mr Kim asks with his gentle smile. Even after all of these years, his Korean is still faintly accented—broader than Namjoon or Taehyung's, just different enough that he stands out, even with his quiet voice. He's more like Namjoon than any of the others, gently and good natured. Jungkook adores him.
"Well, we got out in one piece," he says with a grimace, holding his hands up to the tiny car heater to warm his red fingers.
"You're a good lad," Mr. Kim says, tapping Jungkook gently on the knee before he revs the engine. "What would that poor boy do without you?"
Despite his sinking expectations for the evening, Jungkook beams.
When he's managed to get Namjoon into bed, fully clothed, his mate comes alive like he isn’t the same loser who had to be dragged up the stairs by his own father and mate.
"Baby," he gurgles, wiggling to get his jeans off. "You smell so fucking good right now, you have no idea."
"I mean, I don't smell like beer, so that's an improvement on you," Jungkook smoulders in the dark, tossing his jacket and sweater on the armchair.
"No, baby, you smell so fucking… your scent is the first thing I liked about you, even before I saw your pretty face," Namjoon sighs, seemingly content to leave the rest of his clothes on. He has his big, tanned legs stretched out over the bed, and even in the dark, Jungkook can see the way the moonlight from the window turns them golden.
"Babe," he says, sultry. He perches on the end of the bed and runs his hand up Namjoon's calf.
"Hmm," Namjoon moans, a little too loud for his parents house if you ask Jungkook. He quickly crawls over Namjoon, shimmying up the bed until he's sitting in his mate's lap. He holds his hand over Namjoon's mouth.
"How drunk are you? Too drunk to fuck me?"
Jungkook takes in his bright eyes, the little huff of a growl under his fingers. He's so sexy, even when he's an idiot.
"Nanfkdf too smumk to flippjh oo," Namjoon's lips move under Jungkook's hand.
"If I take my hand away, you have to promise to be quiet," Jungkook says, stern. Namjoon's eyes widen, and he nods. "Or I could always gag you. Are you going to be a good alpha or a bad alpha, Namjoon?"
"A good alpha,” he whispers when Jungkook trails his hands away from his mouth, and cuffs it loose on the alpha's neck. "Such a good alpha, baby, I'll do whatever you want."
"Hmm," Jungkook says. They don't fuck drunk much anymore, not since college. Back then, they fucked after parties, in someone's spare room or the awful, pokey bedsit Namjoon was living in at the time. Something about the booze made Jungkook act like a pornstar, hamming up his noises, arching his back like someone was watching them.
It made Namjoon bolder too, and as much as he would now advise any younger omegas to only test out new sexual kinks and boundaries while decidedly sober, they'd seen and tried some things—some that stuck, and some that didn't.
Still, they've been together long enough now to know when one or the other of them is too drunk to do anything.
Namjoon wraps his fingers around Jungkook's hips.
"Ride me, yeah?" he says, his voice thick, a lot clearer than it was in the bar. Jungkook can feel the beginnings of a hard on underneath his ass, Namjoon's underwear and his own still between their bare skin. He rocks back, splaying his hands over Namjoon's chest.
"You're kinda—" he says, pushing his ass back a little harder. Namjoon closes his eyes and moans softly, but its not the moan of a man who is about to get his world rocked—its more like the gentle humping you do on your pillow when you're still half asleep, content with the hot pressure of your bed, but not really intending to actually get yourself off.
"Huh?" he says, when Jungkook stops. "Don't stop, s'nice. Relaxing."
Jungkook huffs, and climbs off. "You're not even fully fucking hard, Namjoon. You've got a fucking beer boner, I'm not even going to be able to get it in."
Namjoon winces, and peeks an eye open. "Just… he'll be back, baby. I promise. I just need like, five minutes of kip and he'll be ready to go."
Jungkook shuffles off the bed and storms into the bathroom, grabbing the big fluffy robe Mrs. Kim had thoughtfully hung on the door. Namjoon is snoring before he's even closed the door.
Fucking typical.
⋆⋆
When Jungkook wakes, Namjoon is perched at the bottom of the bed in his underwear.
"Good morning, my beautiful, gorgeous mate," he says, his voice brittle with hangover, deep and morning-thick.
Jungkook cracks an eye open. Namjoon's eyes are big and round, his nose quivering like a puppy who's about to be reprimanded. Which he asbolutely fucking is.
"Hmm, good for some, maybe," he sighs, melting into the puffy blankets. There's something about the luxury of staying in the Kim's, the elegance of bedding he and Namjoon can't quite afford to splash out on yet, the cosiness of blankets and decor you gather slowly over time.
"Baby," Namjoon whispers, gripping his fingers into the comforter. "Baby, I'm sorry."
Jungkook harumphs. "Tell that to my eggs. My lovely, primo, unfertalized eggs. You know my fertility window is literally nosediving as we speak."
"I know, baby, I know. God, no, I know," Namjoon babbles, his butt lifting off the bed like he can't quite decide whether he should crawl back into bed with his omega, or make a run for it. "I'm so dumb. I didn't mean to get so wasted, I just—"
"Forget it," Jungkook sighs, kicking the comforter off his own toasty legs. "Get the fuck back in here and give it to me. You know, if you can even get it up."
"Baby, don't. Please, don't," Namjoon whines, slithering back into the bed and kicking his boxers off onto the floor. "You're the hottest man I've ever seen in my whole life."
"Not what your dick was thinking last night," Jungkook pouts, wiggling out of his own briefs.
"No, my dick was a fucking idiot. My dick is literally so dumb, you have no idea," Namjoon breathes into his neck, intertwining his leg with Jungkook's, turning onto his side so he's wrapped around him.
"Hmm, your dick is pretty dumb sometimes. Like for one, it's wasting time jamming into my leg right now like a useless baguette when I'm literally slick and waiting—"
"God," Namjoon groans, slapping a broad hand on Jungkook's ass, manhandling him flat on his back. He climbs on top and makes for Jungkook's neck, nuzzling into his scent gland. "No, we can't have that. Can't have you waiting for anything, ever," he whines, hooking an elbow around Jungkook's knee to piston it upwards.
Jungkook whines when he feels Namjoon's already hard dick slide against him, a deep sigh of relief and anticipation melting him into the Egyptian cotton sheets.
"Baby, let me eat you, please fucking God. I'm a starved man in the desert," Namjoon says, sliding down his body.
Jungkook blinks down at him, at the alpha's fluffy morning hair, scruffy like little yellow bananas sticking up everywhere.
"I'm literally so deprived, I haven't had a good meal in days," he says with his chin resting on Jungkook's public bone.
"Namjoon—"
"No, baby, you don't get it. It's so hard walking around all day with your sweet little ass swaying in front of me," Namjoon kitten licks around his pubic bone, his small, erect cock, nipping the base with his teeth. "This is the elixr of life right here."
"Namjoon—"
"I feel like Paul Atreides from Dune, searching the desert for some Spice. He who controls the slick, controls the universe."
Jungkook groans and slams his head back into the pillow with a growl. "Just do it already and stop fucking talking."
"With pleasure, my beloved Chani, the slick is the life," Namjoon chuckles, spreading Jungkook wide and suckling at his rim.
"God yes," Jungkook whines, already so pent up after what feels like a lifetime of being blue balled. "Can you do that thing with your teeth—"
Jungkook's legs clamp around Namjoon's head so tight the alpha has to pull off every few seconds and gasp for breath. But it feels so good.
"Samchon," a tiny voice says from the door, followed by three methodical little hammers on the wood. "Gukkie Samchon."
Jungkook's blood turns cold, and for a second, the panic makes his thighs vice even tighter on Namjoon's head. He can hear his alpha gasping, turning apple red between his legs. Jungkook can see him, even if it takes him a longer than it should to realize that it's him that's nearly choking Namjoon to death with his thighs and genitals.
"Oh, God, sorry, sorry babe," Jungkook snaps his legs up to his own chest, and Namjoon's head falls flat on the bed. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry are you okay Alpha? Coming Yoongi, just a minute—"
Namjoon is nearly purple when he grins, wide and goofy. "That was fucking amazing. Babe," he wheezes. "Put it in my will, that's how I wanna go when the time comes."
Jungkook kicks him in the head before he gets his pants on.
⋆⋆
Mrs. Kim was right about the Western food. Mr. Kim has been slaving away all morning, prepping a giant turkey for their Christmas meal tomorrow, peeling endless potatoes. Jungkook was brought in to help for a while because he's probably the best cook in the place except for Seokjin, but Mr. Kim had gotten so territorial over his marinade that Namjoon had eventually dragged him back to the living room to safety.
"When are we doing the Secret Santa?" Taehyung asks from his place on the sofa. He's taking up a whole three-seater, with his feet sprawled out over the cushions and a bowl of endless hula-hoop snacks balanced on his belly.
Jimin and Seokjin are tangled on the love seat, and Namjoon is playing board games with the girls and Hobi on the floor. Yoongi is, of course, curled up in Jungkook's knee, banging on a little xylophone that dings over the sound of their movie.
A Muppets Christmas Carol, a fucking classic if you ask Jungkook. He'd campaigned for Lord of the Rings, but had been outvoted by the halflings among them—Bora convinced that anything her Dad liked was boring, Suah pressing the well loved Muppets DVD under his nose with big, watery eyes no human alive could deny. The twins were mostly content with just getting some attention from their uncles, and occasionally when Jimin wasn't looking, taking stowaway potato chips from Samchon Taehyung.
"Think Dad said over dinner," Seokjin says, scratching the crown of Jimin's hair with his eyes still on the screen. Jungkook stretches his legs out over the rug, his ass a little tender from sitting on the hardwood floors. He leans over his shoulder to bite at Taehyung's shins for stealing so much of the sofa.
"Samchon," Yoongi says in his deep little voice, husky and cute. He and Hobi are matching again in some little elf pyjamas, red and green stripy legs and some pointy hats with jingly bells.
"Yes, honey," Jungkook purrs into Yoongi's hair, wrapping his own hands around the xylophone sticks so he can help Yoongi play.
"Can you sing that song about the rotten eggs again?" he asks, and Hobi perks up across the room. He was mostly just watching Namjoon get destroyed by the girls in Monopoly anyway, so he shuffles over to Jungkook, happy to abandon the game for better entertainment.
"Only if you play the music, of course," Jungkook says, wrapping his long fingers around Yoongi's, shuffling so Yoongi's back is flush against his stomach, his little legs an exact mirror of Jungkook's own criss-cross-apple-sauce.
"And me," says Hobi, rifling through their noisy basket of musical toys. He pulls out a silver triangle, and a small matching rod.
"Okay, lets get it," Jungkook laughs.
"Jingle bells, Namjoon smells, smells like rotten eggs, the Yoongi-mobile has lost its wheel and Hobi got away."
"Hey!" the twins chorus over their mishmash of out of sync percussion. Yoongi concentrates so hard when he plays, and secretly, Jungkook thinks he might grow up to be a musical prodigy—no three year old should be able to properly sound out the notes for jingle bells and mostly manage to stay in sync.
Hobi on the other hand is more exuberant than accurate, banging his triangle with so much zest he nearly takes his little hand off.
"Dashing through the snow," Yoongi croons, his voice so small and flat that it nearly makes Jungkook cry.
"On a fun horse opal sleigh," Hobi joins in, bright and excitable.
"Over the fields we go," Jimin and Seokjin chime in from the loveseat.
"Farting all the way," Namjoon yells, jumping up on the rug and pulling the girls around the room in a little waltz.
The movie is mostly forgotten, but Jungkook feels an overwhelming pang of affection in his belly at the sight of them all, noisy and boisterous.
"Baby," Namjoon says, laughing and out of breath while everyone else hurls themselves around the room in song. "You're all teary."
Jungkook bites his lip and nods, peeking over his shoulder at a now, somehow, very asleep Taehyung—potato chips still balanced on his flat tummy.
"It's just my cycle, everything is making me cry," he sniffles, letting his alpha wrap him up tight in his big arms. "I cried at a fucking ad when I was waiting for my nails to dry earlier."
He snuggles into Namjoon's chest, feeling warm and cosy, content. It's not so bad, just like this.
"We could totally sneak upstairs, you know" Namjoon whispers into his ear, opening his legs and manoeuvring Jungkook so he's sitting between them. The scent of bay leaf is so warm, and Jungkook feels so safe. It feels like its been such a long time since he just relaxed, since he didn't think about what food he's putting into his body, or how many more hours he has until his eggs are null and void this cycle.
He's so drained.
He hums back to Namjoon, nestling further into his chest. His mate's warm chuckle makes his head vibrate, like a soothing lull to sleep, just as his eyes grown heavy.
⋆⋆
Jungkook doesn't even realize that he'd been carried to bed until he wakes up alone in their dark room. The black out blinds are pulled tight, and until he checks his phone, he can't even tell if its still day time, or if he's slept into the evening. Before he even has a chance to tap his phone back to life, Namjoon comes in with a tray.
"There he is," he grins from the doorway, pushing it closed with his foot. "Sleepy baby, I was worried you were coming down with something. You never nap, babe."
Jungkook sighs, his eyes still heavy and sleepy. "I'm okay, just haven't been sleeping that well. It's just… you know."
He sniffs, and Namjoon lays the tray down on the bedside table. Dinner, he thinks, some snacks, painkillers and a big glass of water. He slips into bed beside Jungkook in this clothes, and pulls him tight to his chest.
"I know, baby, I know."
Jungkook feels his lip wobble. "I just want it so much. I want it and I know putting all of this pressure on us isn't going to help, but I can't help it, I just… maybe you were right. Maybe we should have hit pause."
Namjoon hums, but doesn't say anything, just runs his hands through Jungkook's curls, scratches lightly at his scalp.
"It's been six months already. Maybe… maybe I'm the problem," Jungkook says slow and soft. He feels like all of the emotions he's been pushing down into his stomach slowly unravel, dribble out of him with the words he hasn't wanted to say.
He hiccups salt when he tries to breathe, and Namjoon's hands are so big, so comforting. He pushes out his bay leaf scent, so rich and intoxicating that it seeps into every corner of the room. The fucking green as shit room.
"Baby, I am so, so certain there is nothing wrong with you, okay? And if we have an obstacle in our path, then we'll deal with it. We're so strong, baby. You're stronger than anyone I know, I promise you, we will have our pup."
Jungkook feels his snot and saliva bleed out in a stain on Namjoon's sweatshirt, but he's too comfortable to pull back.
"Okay," he says softly. "Where is everyone?"
Namjoon slips his hands under the hem of Jungkook's sweater, and warms them on the small of Jungkook's back. The slight coldness is soothing on his hot skin. It makes the little hairs on his back, on the inside of his thighs start to prickle.
"They're about to sit down for Christmas Eve dinner and do the Secret Santa and stuff. I said you needed a break, so you don't need to worry." He laces his ankles with Jungkook's, the starchy denim rough against his bare legs. "No one's coming, you can rest."
Jungkook feels his belly start to warm, the overwhelming push of emotion, of love and affection for his alpha turning molten. Turning into want.
He pushes forward, spreads his legs so he can wrap them around Namjoon's hips.
"Hmm?" Namjoon hums, still totally unaware of Jungkook's building desire, the dampness that's growing between his legs.
"Namjoon," Jungkook whispers, hooking his own feet together, pulling Namjoon over until he's on top.
Namjoon peeks at him. "Oh," he says, and Jungkook can feel the slow smile in his voice even if he can barely make it out in the dark.
"I just wanna… I mean, you're right. Lets forget about it for now. Next year is a whole new year. Just… touch me."
"Baby, you never even have to ask. I will literally beg at your feet for the chance to do anything to you for the rest of our lives," Namjoon chuckles, growling as he makes for Jungkook's neck.
It feels so good not to rush, to know that even if his whole family are downstairs, they're alone in the moment. Jungkook feels every muscle in his body loosen when Namjoon pushes into him, his legs impossibly limber as they're stretched up to his ears, his arms splayed wide.
Namjoon fucks him so slowly the bed creeks, the wood of the headboard slapping against the wall in a rhythm, so loud anyone in the house could hear it.
And Jungkook doesn't give a flying fuck. He moans into Namjoon's ear, bites at the smooth cartilage that tastes salty, digs his heels so hard into Namjoon's back when he rams into him that he's sure to leave bruises.
"I love you," he whines when Namjoon's knot pops against his rim, still so tight despite being fucked open—an impossible squeeze that they always make work. It's an intense moment of panic, pain, blinding pleasure when Namjoon pushes home, his knot slotting in place.
"I love you so much," Namjoon whines, like he's the omega who can purr and keen and trill, his whole body wrapped inside Jungkook's arms and legs—like Jungkook could crush him entirely, ball up all of his love, compress it into a tiny ball of energy that floods him, hold him until they flush together, never to come apart again. When he comes, he nearly passes out he gets so light headed and loose, all of the tension snapping away like a rubber band that's finally slack.
When he feels Namjoon's come flood through him, the heat is like a balm on every anxious thing he's been feeling. It fills him up so much his belly protrudes just like that tiny baby bump he's spent the whole year wanting—his skin taut, Namjoon's dick visible under the honey of his skin.
The room is silent, warm and hot and safe.
"Baby, I know you keep saying it doesn't work that way, but I really think I seriously got it right up there this time."
Jungkook groans.
⋆⋆
"I feel like everyone should be coming to us this year," Jungkook huffs from the backseat, Soobin's tiny fingers laced around his thumb. He's sleeping, for once, though Jungkook already knows that car naps only give them forty minutes maximum. "I literally had a midwife stitching up my ripped asshole two months ago, surely that warrants having Christmas in the comfort of my own fu—fudging home for once."
Namjoon hums genially, tapping his fingers along to the annoying Christmas music he's insisted on playing the whole way down.
"I mean sure, baby, but then everyone would be in our apartment, you know? We'd have like, ten kids in the bed with us, and Jimin would complain about sleeping on the sofa." He pauses thoughtfully. "I don't think my Dad's bird would even fit in our oven, never mind the fact that we couldn't even fuck the whole holiday without—"
"I get it, I get it," Jungkook grumbles.
Secretly he's happy to be going. Everyone has met Soobin of course, they'd even had to expel Mrs. Kim from their apartment after three straight weeks of her helping after he was born—but its the first time they've all been together under one roof since Jungkook and Namjoon became parents. Since Soobin ripped into their life like a fresh, thunder storm—totally new, a cyclone of every good thing there is in life, all of the madness and wonder Jungkook had spent so long dreaming up.
He came into their life screaming, and hasn't stopped. It's been exhausting.
"And we also have full rights to get everyone back for all the fudging childcare they've landed on us over the years, too," Namjoon says with a big grin. "I am gonna take you on a date, baby. I am going to date you so hard you won't even know what hit you."
Jungkook smiles, snuggling into the big fleece blanket he brought with him for the journey. He closes his eyes, and huffs that new baby smell, milky and warm, omegan and sweet.
"Awww, my two boys," Namjoon coos from the front seat, but Jungkook is already gone—Soobin's little nails digging into his fingers.
And miraculously, he doesn't wake up until they arrive and Namjoon slowly uncurls his fingers from Soobin, bright eyed and awake. He cracks his gluey eyes and bleers out the window.
Taehyung is out in the yard, shovelling snow with the twins running circles around his feet. They're so much bigger somehow, even though its only been a year since they sat on the stoop. Yoongi's been coming out of his shell too, since they started pre-school. Not outgoing, never extroverted, but comfortable in his skin—Jungkook's little pal.
"Samchons, Soobinie," Hobi shrieks, and it makes Jungkook wince. He looks to Namjoon, Soobin cradled in his arms.
"Ah, pup, I think this little one might need some of his milkies before we all play, okay?" Namjoon pats Hobi on the shoulder and ushers him back to Taehyung.
"I'm getting a hold before you, I've been waiting a month," Taehyung whines to Hobi, turning his little body around and pointing him towards the door. "Go tell Grandma they're here."
Jungkook pulls up his shirt, still under his fleece blanket in the back of the car, and reaches out for Soobin. "I'll feed him first, you go inside and say hello."
Namjoon nods, turning the key in the ignition so the heating pops back on. He props a water bottle up on Jungkook's leg, and hands him a cookie. "Kay baby one," he says, kissing Jungkook's curls "And you, baby two, no biting with those razor gums."
Soobin gurgles.
Taehyung slides into the driver seat before Namjoon closes the door and heads inside.
"He's so precious like this," he says wistfully, watching as Jungkook slips his nipple into Soobin's mouth and latches him on. "We have an obligation to raise him to be a strong, independent omega. He's going to be a trailblazer, I just know it. First omega grandchild, my little buddy."
Jungkook rolls his eyes, but enjoys Taehyung's company. They've been spending more time together since he had Soobin, he and Taehyung, Jimin too. The other omegas had felt like a lifeline in those first few weeks when he was so spaced out and anxious he could barely function. Jimin, with words of wisdom, second hand clothes, advice that was only ever offered gently and never with judgement.
Taehyung, despite not being able to cook for shit, had kept Namjoon afloat too—holding Soobin when they needed to sleep, ordering out, cleaning their apartment. Yes, Jungkook had wanted some space from Mrs. Kim and her well-meaning hovering, but when Taehyung had packed his bag up to go back home, he'd cried his eyes out. Worried that they wouldn't be able to do it on their own.
That was only a month ago now, and here they are. Back where it all started.
"Think he's asleep," Taehyung nods when Soobin goes sleepy, and starts snorting in the little way he does.
"Nah, he'll wake up and go again soon. He's cluster feeding, its a fucking nightmare."
Taehyung chuckles. "God, I'm so glad we can fucking swear around this one."
"Sure, just don't tell Namjoon. He's still trying to make all of that fudging shit work. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love his bones, but Soobin is basically an eating, shitting, and sleeping blob right now, we're not going to damage him by saying fuck a few times."
Soobin slips off, and Jungkook's nipple feels cold and wet in the icy winter weather until its back in his bomber. He folds Soobin into his cloth carrier, and zips his jacket over it until just his little brown head is visible, a sliver of his sleeping face.
When they get inside, the house already smells like Mrs. Kim's kimchi, the bubbling red aroma of a final Korean meal before the Western stodge.
"You okay, baby?" Namjoon says, guiding them to the sofa past all of the waiting Kims, holding his arm out like a bollard, like he's a farmer herding cattle. He bats off Seokjin and Jimin when they try to peek over his shoulder for a glimpse of Soobin.
"Let him rest, back off," Namjoon growls, mostly playful but also territorial. He's been like this since the third trimester, but doubly so around his boisterous family—like he's worried they're going to swoop in and steal all the love.
"I'm okay, Joonie," Jungkook says, yawning into the top of Soobin's head, melting into the settee.
Namjoon hoovers on the arm of the sofa, one hand on Jungkook's shoulder, the other on the swell of human that's moving under his bomber.
The other kids are playing with some toy cars under the tree, and Seokjin is loitering on Jungkook's other side, impatiently.
"Now, Soobin," Namjoon says, unzipping Jungkook's coat, and pushing down the first layer of bamboo on the baby wrap. "This is a very special place, you know."
"Namjoon—" Jungkook starts, with a groan.
Jimin and Taehyung earwig curiously from the open doorway that leads from the kitchen to the living room.
"This is where you were…conceived," he whispers, comically loud. The kids don't care anyway, even if they did have any idea what the world meant.
Jungkook pales, hissing. "Namjoon, I don't want everyone to know everything about my life, you know."
Seokjin scoffs beside him, pushing in closer, as he starts to untangle the knots at Jungkook's back to loosen the wrap. Soobin is awake, but content, his little hand flush on Jungkook's milk swollen chest. His favourite place in the world, the source of all his food and comfort.
"No point in acting coy now, Jungkookie," he says with a tsk, yanking Soobin from the wrap and taking him into the crook of his own arms. "As if any of us could ever forget the Christmas Eve' feast last year. You were getting… uh… snailed so hard the turkey nearly fell off the fudging table."
Jungkook flushes red, but Namjoon has never looked prouder in his life.
"Jungkookie is still convinced it happened back home, but man, when I felt that… er, marshmallow leave my stick, I just knew. I really got it up in there, right on the shelf."
"Your understanding of the omegan body is shocking," Taehyung tsks from the doorway as Jimin steps around the kid's racetrack and makes for the other arm of the sofa. He wraps his arm around Seokjin and coos at Soobin.
"God, my ovaries are like, pulsating looking at him. We could do another one, babe, couldn't we?" he asks, purring a little as Seokjin stiffens, eyeing his four fucking puppies playing under the tree.
"Well," Namjoon says, pulling Jungkook into his arms. The whole room smells like cinnamon and clove, everyone's scents bubbling under the wave of Yankee candle, artificial pine, and whatever else Mr. Kim has smuggled into the house by means of Christmas ambience this year. "I could go again. Maybe we should make it our tradition to knock you up here every year."
Jungkook narrows his eyes, but he doesn't say anything. Honestly, it doesn't sound like a bad plan at all.