Christmas drabbles
So this was written for Alina, and it's just super lame, but I hope it will make you smile, at least once :) mydaedream
Rating:PG-13
Pairing:Junmyeon/Jongdae
Wordcount:2,233
Warning:Unbetaed.
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME
Summary: Jongdae is a Christmas choir boy, and Junmyeon is just biased, and very much in love.
“Hyung, you're smiling again.”
Junmyeon blinked furiously, quickly slipping back into what he hoped was a bright innocent face. His gaze focused on Jongdae again, taking his mind away from his daydreams, and he met Jondgae's twinkling eyes, wrinkles mapping their corners. So much for looking cool and fancy, Kim Junmyeon.
“And again,” Jongdae added, his voice bordering on chirping, light and mischievous.
“Am not,” Junmyeon grumbled.
Running away from both Jongdae's intense eyes and his own blush, Junmyeon grabbed the thermos cup from his boyfriend's hand. He shook it above the snow-covered sidewalk, and pretended to be deeply inspired by the few drops of hot chocolate clashing against the snow and melting it. The thing is, holding Jongdae's eyes is quite hard, but letting go of them is even harder. Junmyeon sighed as he gave in and finally looked up to meet Jongdae's eyes. They were as curvy as expected, as bright, and upon meeting Junmyeon's, Jongdae's face scrunched up even more, a grin stretching his thin lips.
“Okay,” Junmyeon admitted. “I wassmiling. And I may have been staring too.”
“You definitely were,” Jongdae nodded.
Junmyeon shrugged. He stretched out his arm to fix the pompom on the top of Jongdae's santa hat. It was not like he could do anything about those smiling and staring habits, it really wasn't his fault. You could always trust Jongdae to be a little more solar than what is expected from plain humans. Junmyeon was the victim here, really.
“I like elf Jongdae,” he mumbled, blowing on the hat's fur? Jongdae's eyebrow dived down as he closed his eyes, and Junmyeon felt his heart flutter.
“I'll keep the outfit for tonight then,” Jongdae teased him while Junmyeon checked his scarf. (Jongdae had given up long ago fighting Junmyeon's other bad habit, which tended to make him look like Jongdae's mother rather than his boyfriend.) “Elf Jongdae has very agile hands, he does wonders with them.”
Junmyeon chuckled, and Jongdae finally pulled away. He pressed a kiss on the soft curve of Junmyeon's cheekbone, his fingers brushing his jawline.
“Please stop staring love, you're scarring the choir.”
Junmyeon shrugged for the second time -he found words didn't reach his mouth as easily when he was around Jongdae- and Jongdae finally waddled back to the group of people waiting for him a few steps away. Junmyeon followed him with his eyes as he slipped back the thermos in his shoulder bag.
Jongdae had an angelic voice, one of those you meet only once if your life, and only if you're very lucky. Obviously Junmyeon got very veryfortunate, and so much luck easily fought back the cold lurking around him and gnawing every inch of skin that wasn't covered. Following Jongdae and his choir around became his favorite thing to do on December week ends, and he had done it often enough to know how to get ready for the fight, hence the hot chocolate thermos and the gingerbread cookies in his shoulder bag. Jongdae and his friends spent the day giving and spreading the Christmas spirit, and Junmyeon spent his following them around and making sure they were given back.
Upon realizing he was smiling like an idiot - again- Junmyeon shook himself up and blinked. He met Jongdae's eyes, a few steps ahead, and the latter grinned and wriggled his fingers in the air. Junmyeon laughed when Kyungsoo, the Captain elf pulled him back in his spot on the first row of the choir.
A new house to sing for didn't mean a new song. Jongdae's choir had learned around twenty songs, and they usually sang only one -or two if they were asked nicely- at each house, and after almost five hours of braving the elements, Junmyeon knew them all by heart. Which meant that he knew that the melody started by Minseok, one of the other little elves whose pompom kept falling over his forehead, didn't imply a Jongdae solo. A bit disappointed, Junmyeon still listened thoroughly, for Jongdae's voice was so recognizable. A bit higher than the other singers' voices, a bit more powerful, and a bit more pleasant. Junmyeon was probably biased though, but being biased did make the day much funnier.
The house's owner, a lady in her mid forties whose eyes were twinkling with pleasure, cheered the choir, amazed. She asked them to wait, and they did, shivering in the cold and huddled together like a pack of penguins. Junmyeon watched, like a spectator, Jongdae blowing on Kyungsoo's hat and avoiding the latter's elbow aiming for his side. When the lady came back, she gave them each a cookie, Christmas tree shaped for some, Santa shaped for others, and they bowed to her, thanked her and finally turned to walk down the sidewalk to the next house.
Jongdae stopped and let the choir walk ahead as he waited for Junmyeon to catch up with him. He only started moving again when their shoulders brush, and since their coats were so thick, Jongdae leaned a bit more into the touch, just to make sure Junmyeon did feel him. They exchanged a quiet look before Jongdae broke his cookie in two and handed the bigger half to Junmyeon, who thanked him with a smile. He had the top of the Christmas tree, and the yellow frosting on the little star suddenly looked so appetizing.
Jongdae bit in his cookie, and Junmyeon stole a few glances before tasting his. Elf Jongdae was indeed very cute. The Santa hat surprisingly suited him, giving a new vibe to the chiseled lines that outlined his face, and echoing so well with the brightness in his eyes, and the slight flush spreading on his cheeks.
Jongdae hummed with pleasure, his lips closed over a mouthful of Christmas cookie.
“Cinnamon,” Jongdae sighed, closing his eyes a few seconds to enjoy the taste of the cookie. The sight of his lashes fluttering against his cheekbones, black against white, reminded Junmyeon of the chocolate drops melting the snow.
Junmyeon hesitated as he glanced at his own cookie, at the yellow frosting, but his decision was already made. He handed his half back to Jongdae, who looked up at him with surprise.
“I don't really like cinnamon,” Junmyeon explained, and Jongdae frowned.
“Liar.”
Junmyeon chuckled. “Take it,” he insisted, waving the cookie in front of Jongdae's face for good measure.
Jongdae sighed, took the cookie, and walked even closer to Junmyeon as he slipped it in the latter's shoulder bag.
“For later,” Jongdae winked at him.
Junmyeon shrugged and grabbed Jongdae's hand. He shoved it into his coat's pocket with his, palm against palm, and closed his eyes when Jongdae's index finger slipped out of his glove to come inside Junmyeon's. It was cold against Junmyeon's warmer skin, but that wasn't the reason why the fleeting touch of Jongdae's fingertip along his palm lines sent a shiver down Junmyeon's spine. He was indeed too biased for such an innocent touch to meaningless.
“Love,” Jongdae whispered, so closed to his ear. “You're smiling.”
Junmyeon sighed, pretended he wasn't blushing - again- and shrugged.
“I'm smiling because I'm happy,” he said. “Don't you want me to be happy?”
“Am I making you happy? Does that mean that I don't even need to buy you anything for Christmas?”
“Don't try to charm me, Kim Jongdae. I expect a mountain of presents under our tree.”
Jongdae snorted, and Junmyeon kissed the tip of his nose, which had Jongdae rolling his eyes.
“Let me be happy,” Junmyeon countered before Jongdae even had a chance to open his mouth, and Jongdae snickered.
They huddled even closer, and faced the cold together. The lady's house had been the last house of long street, which meant they had a few minute long walk before the next house. The choir was waddling in the snow a few steps ahead, the tiny elves moving like one, their legs taking steps after steps in unison. The sky was so low, so white that it had become so easy to forget the usual city background, the skyscrapers and the light panels. It felt like a break from everything, like five precious minutes that had only Jongdae and Junmyeon existing, and Junmyeon enjoyed every last second of it.
“Jongdae!” Kyungsoo called out. He was standing, so fierce in red and green against the white background, and he kept sweeping his own pompom away with aggressive head gestures. Behind him, the choir was facing a new house, and Jongdae's spot was still empty.
Jongdae looked up and winced.
“Go,” Junmyeon said, letting go of Jongdae's hand.
In Jongdae's hurry, the latter's glove got stuck between Junmyeon's fingers, but Jongdae didn't stop to take it back. He ran to Kyungsoo, completely unaware of how dangerous the snow crunching under his soles could be, and Junmyeon winced when saw Jongdae's bare hand. He made a first step towards the little group of elves, but the owner finally coming out of his house had him stopping dead in his tracks. Sighing both internally and mentally, Junmyeon stood on the side, his eyes so focused on Jongdae's bare hand that he didn't even pay attention to the Christmas carol the choir had started to sing.
That was until, at least, a snowflake landed on the tip of his nose, and Junmyeon looked up to the sky, surprised. The white had turned to gray, and the snowflake melting on Junmyeon's nose was definitely not the only one whirling around in the air. It was like tiny little stars muting the city's noises around them, and Junmyeon found himself awestruck. He held out his hand and smiled as his snowflake's brothers landed smoothly on his palm. It was so white, even whiter than his skin.
Skin.
Junmyeon looked up, and his eyes immediately fell, not on Jongdae's bare hand, but on his throat that was standing out against the emerald of his scarf. His Adam's Apple was going up and down along with the notes Jongdae was letting out so smoothly, and Junmyeon winced as he pictured a sick Jongdae who had lost his voice.
“Shit,” he mumbled.
He walked towards the choir, and flashed a sorry look at Minseok and Jongin who were both standing on the end of the choir's two rows , and who glanced at him with surprise as he slipped between them. Trying to disappear behind tiny elves who were, for most of them, shorter than he was, and all dressed with the same colors when he was wearing his dark brown coat definitely wasn't easy, but turning around now would look even more ridiculous. He paid closer attention to the taller singers' feet to make sure he wouldn't step on them -and be the cause of a horrendous note- and finally stopped behind Jongdae.
The latter was singing, they all were, but Junmyeon knew that they were also aware of the intruder standing among them. He risked a glance towards the house's owner, and felt himself blushing when he met the latter's smiling eyes. Junmyeon looked away, but swept his embarrassment aside. He had a mission to complete.
He fixed Jongdae's scarf, carefully wrapping it around the latter's neck, and tucked the ends inside Jongdae's coat. Up close, it was easy to catch every nuance in Jongdae's voice, and Junmyeon had become an expert at it. He could pinpoint the exact moment Jongdae had started smiling although he could not see his face, and it just made him want to linger a little more around him, and bask in every aspect that was Jongdae's presence. One look at Kyungsoo, who was standing just next to Jongdae, was enough for Junmyeon to realize that it was probably wiser to back away, and save his life. The Christmas choir was Kyungsoo's project, and he cared deeply, so deeply that he wouldn't accept anything -or anyone- ruining it.
Junmyeon's fingers brushed the inside of Jongdae's wrist for a silent goodbye -one that wouldn't last long- but Jongdae grabbed his hand and locked it between his fingers. His voice came out even more powerful, almost explosive, so much that it was so easy for Junmyeon to picture the beam going with it, the wrinkles and the scrunched up face. Despite everything, Jongdae was still singing in tune, as comfortable with the melody as ever, and for a short second, Junmyeon forgot that the Christmas carol the choir was performing was probably more than fifty years ago. It sounded like it was the carol that was trying to match with Jongdae's voice, Jongdae's presence, and not the opposite.
Junmyeon looked up, caught Jongdae's eyes and his smile. Next to him, Kyungsoo used a few seconds of silence in his own part to grumble, probably glare at Junmyeon -who totally didn't pay attention- but he finally gave in and stepped aside. Jongdae softly pulled Junmyeon closer, still holding his hand. He shoved it in his pocket, and slipped his fingers in Junmyeon's glove.
Junmyeon looked up to the owner's house, met his now teasing smile with a fierce blush on his cheekbones that had snowflakes melting before they even got to touch his skin. Jongdae still refused to let him go.
Well, Junmyeon thought. At least he knew the songs.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sehun/Jongdae
Wordcount: 2,125
Warning: Unbetaed. Written half asleep, literally.
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME
Summary: Just a snowball fight between two kids, a stranger and someone special, someone different.
Snow, Sehun thought. Snow and people. Paired together, they made the things Sehun disliked the most.
People, when snowflakes start to fall, always stop, whether it's for a few seconds only, or even a couple of minutes. They look up, they smile, they get reminded of stuff, and they feel peaceful and happy. But that only lasts for a few hours of course. What comes next, the second day, is Sehun's worst nightmare. People, when they're starting to get used to the whiteness of the city, start to run, they panic, they get rude, and streets become the most dangerous places in the world-and let's not talk about shops. Yes, snow has its charm, definitely, but to Sehun, it lays in the quietness and the peacefulness of the night, in places where it's still white and unmarked.
Snow comes with crunching sounds, and those sounds need silence to bloom fully. Silence, in a city barely asleep, is rare, but Sehun had always known where to find it. Snow comes with cold, but against that, unfortunately, Sehun had nothing more than the gloves he was now desperately blowing on in a poor attempt at warming his numb fingers. At least, he could still enjoy the view, the feeling of being out of reality, or that was what he thought before a huge snowball crashed on his face.
Sehun staggered backwards, taken aback. Holy hell, that hurt. It was burning against his cheek and had splattered everywhere on his face, so much that when he furiously blinked to try and grasp what just happened, tiny icicles caught in his lashes stabbed his cheekbones, made him tear up. He parted his lips, only to realize that they were already open, and that snow was melting on the back of his tongue. He spat on the side and wiped his face. That totally didn't help the numb fingers.
“Oh my god,” someone said, but they didn't sound as apologetic as Sehun would have liked. In fact, he was laughing, and Sehun had to admit, snow slipping under his collar or not, that this was one interesting entering.
The boy was short, definitely shorter than Sehun, but he actually looked older. Not much though, probably just a couple of years, but Sehun was sure about that. He had always been terrible at gauging people. What he could say, though, was that the boy's cheekbones, flushed by the cold and his laughter, still tinkling in the night, were sharper than any cheekbones he had ever seen, just like his lips, slightly curled up and opened on his mirth, were the oddest lips Sehun had ever laid his eyes on.
“I am so sorry,” the boy said as he stopped just before Sehun. He too had snow caught in his lashes, except that it didn't seem to bother him a bit. He started wiping away the snowball's leftovers on Sehun's shoulder, still chuckling. “There,” he added. “It's like nothing happened now.”
The boy clapped so that the snow stuck on his gloves would fall, and he finally paused to take a proper look at Sehun. Never before had Sehun been looked at like that, and it actually made Sehun feel like he had never been actually seen before. The boy blinked, he smiled and tilted his head on the side. Although he had stopped laughing, there still was a smile perched on his lips, and the fleeting hesitation in his eyes did absolutely nothing to lessen it. Snow and people, Sehun mused, they always made the worst cocktail, but it was snow, people and silence now, and as he and the boy stared at each other, Sehun realized that it could actually change a lot.
“Wanna join?” the boy finally asked. He looked over his shoulder and drew back his attention on Sehun. “If you help me win against those two sneaky little bastards, I'll treat you to a hot chocolate.”
Sehun frowned and tilted his head on the side to take a look at the empty street spreading behind the guy. Aside from a few parked cars, forgotten under a rather thick layer of snow, and a few street lights, there was absolutely nothing. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the boy, who only smiled back.
“They're fast though, and pretty good. I'd understand if you decided to pass.”
His tone was challenging, daring, and Sehun didn't quite understand how, but it did make him want to accept. He looked at the boy's face again, at the snow caught in his lashes and in his hair -he didn't even have a beanie- and couldn't refrain a smile from taking over his own lips. The boy's lips mimicked it, and he obviously took it as Sehun agreeing because he suddenly grabbed his wrist and dragged him behind a snow-covered car. As they were running for cover, fleeing from an unknown source of danger, Sehun caught laughter from behind their backs. He tried to look over, but his new friend (?) pulled him down with so much strength that Sehun didn't see anything.
“Okay, so like I said,” the boy said, hunkered down. “They're sneaky little bastards, so we'll need a good plan if we want to win.”
Sehun considered the thin layer of snow on the boy's left cheek and wondered for a split second why the hell he was playing along when half of his body was freezing to death and the other half he couldn't even feel anymore. It came from the bottom of his stomach, a strong pull he couldn't fight back and that made him want to laugh for no apparent reasons, and that's what had him hold the boy's gaze, and finally break out of his muteness.
“What if you die,” he asked. “How am I supposed to tell a few words about my brother in arms if I don't even know your name?”
The guy stared at him, taken aback, but it wasn't the surprise Sehun was feeling himself. It was amused, it was playful, and when he finally answered, his voice was lighter, and bordering on mirth. He wasn't even laughing yet, but he already sounded like a peal of laughter and-just how?
“Jongdae,” he said. “My name is Jongdae. And you are?”
“Sehun,” Sehun said.
Jongdae nodded, pleased. He repeated Sehun's name under his breath, the syllables so low Sehun didn't catch them.
“Come out!” a voice screamed. It was a boy, obviously, but from how high it sounded, it belonged to a very young boy.
“Yes, come on out!” someone else screamed. Another little boy.
Sehun stared at Jongdae in disbelief. “They sound like ten year-old boys,” he said. “Don't tell me your ass is being kicked by midgets.”
Jongdae patted Sehun's arm. “Please, don't say that to my funeral if I don't survive,” he joked.
Sehun snorted, and Jongdae's smile grew even bigger as he looked rather pleased with his joke. Why was he even playing in the snow at 7pm in an empty street with two kids? And, more importantly, why was Sehun playing along?
Jongdae dragged him behind another car, and Sehun followed, imagining a nice babysitter reputation to Jongdae. He could be one of those guys who is so gifted with children that parents pay him twice the usual amount of money, and Jongdae's secret is actually tiring up the monsters until they're too exhausted to even think about annoying him. He could be a stranger, to Sehun, but for the two boys too, a stranger for everyone, and maybe that was exactly why it was so exciting. Jongdae was this and everything else, but Sehun too had his secret identity. To Jongdae, maybe he didn't even have numb fingers, and how Sehun liked the idea.
“Oh, come on!” the first voice called out again. “Are you too chicken to play with two kids?!”
Jongdae and Sehun exchanged a look.
“We can't let them say that,” Jongdae told him, serious, and Sehun agreed with a short nod of the head.
“We can't.”
Their eyes didn't let go right away, not until, at least, Jongdae flashed another grin at Sehun, who took it as he saw it: a knowing smile that turned both of them, strangers for each other, into a team. It was the start of an inside joke, and as Sehun soon found out, more was to be added to the list.
It was the most epic snowball fight ever seen, and that was what Sehun would have said if Yixing and Luhan -who happened to be, indeed, very sneaky little bastards- had won, or if Jongdae had died on the field. Both parties were fighting with all they had, so much that Jongdae had to scream for a break when someone, high on adrenaline, decided that climbing on the street lamp would be a good idea as it would give them a nice view over the battlefield. (Hint, that very embarrassed someone was definitely older than ten years old.)
Minutes ticked by, hours, victories and defeats. Jongdae's face now looked like he was wearing a face mask made of snow, and Sehun's fingers were so cold he was scared to see them fall every time he used them. But they kept fighting, even after Yixing and Luhan's parents opened a window above their heads and asked for their children to come home (babysitter was stricken out of Sehun's list of possibilities sticking to Jongdae's skin), after they had walked or used every inch of snow in the streets so that the previously white shimmering under the street lights had turned into a grayish brown, a muddy substance that was more liquid than solid.
And it was cold and loud, but Sehun didn't mind that much, even when they both sat down on the sidewalk as they were gasping for air and the wetness of the snow bit his skin.
Once again, they exchanged a glare. Jongdae's face has become familiar somewhere along the last couple of hours, and just as he had been a stranger easy to like, he was slipping so easily in Sehun's bubble as an-almost friend, an almost something. He still had that quiet aura of possibilities, of standing on the edge of reality sticking to him, but it, too, had become more familiar.
“I'd take you to a coffee shop for the hot chocolate I promised you,” Jongdae finally said. “But I wasn't serious. I'd never thought you'd join us.”
Sehun shrugged. “I can treat you if you want,” he told Jongdae. “I wouldn't say no to something warm.”
“I would, though,” Jongdae said. “I like cold.”
His voice was bordering on chirping, still heavy with mirth and peals of laughter, and it matched the multiple identities Sehun had imagined for him so much, but it also somehow matched the snowflakes Jongdae blew on him. The white and unmarked snowflakes which didn't exist when Jongdae raised his hand, but which still whirled around above his glove when Jongdae's lips parted over a cold exhalation. Sehun followed them with his eyes, tiny specks of white catching the street lights and reflecting them, until they softly landed on the sidewalk next to Jongdae. Sehun considered the muddy snow, liquid and dirty, staining his pants, and the thick layer of white and unmarked snow around Jongdae, pure and divine.
“It's not about money, isn't it?” he asked, and Jongdae smiled.
“Not really.”
Sehun smiled, taking in the snow stuck in Jongdae's eyebrows, and his sharp features. He was all straight lines and broken angles, from his cheekbones to the sudden curl of his lips, like an ice statue someone who didn't pay much attention to details could have carved.
“You just don't like when it's warm,” Sehun added, and Jongdae beamed at him.
He was, indeed, something to look at from afar, an overall view rather than several pieces put together to form a puzzle. Nothing could have said hey I'm bigger than what you think better than the lack of delicacy in Jongdae's appearance, and Sehun actually really liked that.
“It was a beautiful snowball fight,” Jongdae finally sighed. A few more snowflakes left his mouth and whirled around. “And I've seen many snowball fights, you can trust me on that.”
Sehun snorted. “I do,” he said.
Jongdae looked at him and winked. Sehun thought about the list of possibilities and struck spy, professional ice skater and soldier out of his list. It was considerably shorter now, but somehow bigger as well. It was just Jongdae.
Christmas spirit, ghost, elf, winter, Jack Frost.
Jongdae glanced at him, chuckled and shook his head.
“Round two?”