riots: (Default)
k ([personal profile] riots) wrote2013-12-23 08:19 pm

fic advent 2013: day twenty

for [personal profile] galbijiim
tao/chen
pg-13, 1.2k words
"taochen!! xmas theme! like mistletoe or something."



Damn, but Yixing always throws a good party. Well, it’s Jongdae’s place too, but Yixing made it all happen. Jongdae likes it best that way. It means he gets half the credit just for paying rent.

It’s the end of the semester, and everybody’s here. Jongin is camped out in Chanyeol’s lap, while Chanyeol does his level best to lick Jongin’s tonsils. 9.0 for enthusiasm but only 4.7 for technique and 2.1 for doing this shit on Jongdae’s couch. “You need to work on your tongue technique,” Jongdae informs them, sitting down on the couch arm next to them. Chanyeol looks offended and Jongin whines, burying his face in Chanyeol’s throat. “I’m seeing a lotta spit happening here right now, pretty amateur stuff.”

“Dude,” Chanyeol says. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Jongin’s hand closes fitfully against Chanyeol’s chest. “Come on.”

Jongdae blinks at him innocently. “Oh, you didn’t? This isn’t a spectator sport?” He tilts his head. “I thought the way that you two were going at it on the couch meant you were open to constructive criticism.” He flashes them his best smile. “Style like that, Jongin must really love you to put up with it.”

“You are kinda drooly…” Jongin says, his tongue clearly loosened by alcohol. Chanyeol looks mortified and Jongdae cackles, throwing his head back as the two of them get up and slip away, arguing quietly even while Jongin grips at the front of his shirt. Success! His couch remains safe from befouling by those cretins. That deserves a pat on his back and another drink.

He finds a couple of beers in the fridge, probably Sehun’s, but Jongdae decides to liberate them. He is one of the hosts, after all. People should pay their hosts. Across the room, he watches as Kris tries oh so hard to hit on Jessica Jung. There is nothing funnier than the way Kris turns pink and Jessica smiles vacantly, more interested in what’s happening on her phone. Delightful.

“Hyung.” Zitao pokes his head around the door, beaming. “There you are!”

“Here I am,” Jongdae agrees. He hadn’t been aware he’d gone somewhere. He raises his stolen beer to his mouth. He’d like to say that free beer tastes better, but Sehun’s a cheap bastard. This stuff tastes like piss. He wrinkles his nose. “What’s up?”

Zitao clasps his hands together “Merry Christmas, hyung,” he says. He’s wearing a Christmas sweater that’s just ugly enough that Jongdae is having trouble deciding if he did that on purpose. This is, after all, Huang Zitao. He likes his leopard print. Hard to tell. “I’m really happy.”

“You look pretty happy,” Jongdae says. Zitao does, actually. He’s flushed enough that Jongdae thinks he must have had a few, and he leans in, eyes fixed on Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae’s known Zitao for a few years, long enough to hear his Korean go from laughably simple to totally fluent, or at least the degree of fluency Zitao needs to beg for Joonmyun to buy him food. They had Intro to Communication together two years ago, and when Jongdae had seen Zitao, alone by himself and frowning down at his homework, he’d decided to sit with him. He’d had an extra year at university to make his friends, find his people, but Zitao was working with a language barrier on top of everything else, and that couldn’t be easy. So Jongdae had bought him coffee, invited him to the parties he and Yixing threw. It turned out that when Zitao wasn’t unsure of himself, he wasn’t shy at all. He had ingratiated himself with Sehun lightning fast and gotten Kris wound around his finger in a matter of weeks. It was kind of impressive, and Jongdae was pleased. He thinks Zitao looks way better with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, instead of so lost and small.

“I have your present,” Zitao says, and there’s that smirk again. He’s definitely got something planned, and he’s definitely pleased with himself. It’s a good look on Zitao. To be fair, pretty much everything is a good look on Zitao, with his shoulders and his waist and his mile long legs. Normally, Jongdae harbours a lot of repressed resentment against tall dudes, but somehow he gives Zitao a pass.

Jongdae narrows his eyes a little. Should he be worried? “I didn’t get you anything,” he admits. He waves his beer. “You can have some of this?”

Zitao shakes his head. “Look up,” he says.

When Jongdae peers up, he realizes that he’s standing under mistletoe. “Huh,” he says.

Zitao blinks. “It’s mistletoe,” he says slowly, like maybe Jongdae is super drunk or just an idiot and missing the point.

“Yes,” Jongdae agrees, just as slowly. “It is.” He shrugs. “Isn’t that stuff kind of lame?” He’s got no doubt that this was Lu Han’s idea - any excuse to mack on strangers.

“Oh,” Zitao says, face falling. He takes a step back. “Never mind.”

Never mind? Jongdae squints at Zitao and the realization dawns in his head. “Hey. Wait. Mistletoe. Was that...was that a hint?” He’s astonished. In the past three years, Jongdae has watched Zitao date plenty of guys and none of them even remotely bear any resemblance to him. Zitao likes tall guys with broad shoulders and nice, toned bodies, not guys like Jongdae. He unconsciously presses a hand against his belly and stares at Zitao. He’s never considered this.

“No,” Zitao says stubbornly, crossing his arms. “It wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was,” Jongdae says, dumbfounded. “Zitao?”

“You’re right,” Zitao says, and he avoids Jongdae’s eyes. “It’s lame. Never mind.”

Jongdae thinks about this. He can give Zitao a few minutes to squirm. It’s not like it’s really a bad idea, honestly. Zitao’s pretty hot, but he’s also sweet as a kitten, thoughtful when he feels like it and genuinely kind. This could work. “Does this mean I’m not getting my Christmas present?”

Zitao looks at him, guarded hope in his eyes. “I don’t know if you deserve it now,” he says after a long second, the corners of his mouth starting to pull up.

“Oh,” Jongdae says, setting down his beer and stepping forward. “I think I could change your mind.”

The way that Zitao settles his hands on Jongdae’s biceps is tentative, and he still looks wary. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly, and Jongdae knows that this is serious for him.

Jongdae doesn’t love Zitao, but he thinks maybe he could get there. Zitao is so many things, soft and sharp, a deft hand with nunchaku and in love with kittens. “Yeah,” Jongdae says, and then Zitao is smiling, swooping down to kiss him.

He likes the way that Zitao kisses, the way that he nips at Jongdae’s lip and then soothes it with his tongue, all eager, hot, and slick. Wow, yeah, Jongdae could definitely fall in love with this. “Now that’s a Christmas present,” Jongdae says, and Zitao laughs into his mouth, pulling him forward until Jongdae is caged in by Zitao’s body, hard and lean against him. Zitao’s palm skates up the back of Jongdae’s shirt across the small of his back and Jongdae stretches up to kiss him again. Jongdae’s pretty sure he’s number one on the naughty list but he’s definitely glad that Santa showed him a little mercy in the form of Zitao’s mouth. He’s going to make the most of this holiday, yessir.



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