Hana

“You two,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “are going to come late.”

“But why?” I practically whine, turning away from Namjoon’s disastrously tied bowtie. Going in a limo with the four of us had become a tradition for the Christmas ball.

“Because you’re supposedly a couple,” Jimin explains slowly. “And couples show up together.”

Jungkook frowns, “But we always go together. And there’s no point in getting two separate limos.”

“Honestly,” Namjoon mutters under his breath, so that only I could hear while I tried fixing his collar. “Why are the two of you so thick?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I shoot back at him, tying a little tighter than I should have and making Namjoon choke.

“It means that you have to act super couple-like tonight,” Namjoon sighs, resigning himself to explain. “And that includes acting super touchy and cute with each other.”

“But we already do that.” I step back from Namjoon, surveying the bowtie. Perfect.

“More so,” Jimin shakes his head. “Christmas is supposed to be romantic or something like that.”

“What do any of us know about romance?” I grumble, pushing Namjoon and Jimin towards the door. “Go, otherwise you’re going to be late. We’ll leave in a while to make it seem believable.”

Jungkook shuts the door behind them with a sigh. “Well, we have no practice being extremely romantic or anything.”

“Okay,” I swallow, trying to push away my nervousness. “What if we start by just trying to hold hands?”

Wordlessly, he laces my smaller fingers through his before sitting down on the couch, trying not to wrinkle his tuxedo. “Like this?”

For some reason, my mouth dries. “Yeah,” I croak, remembering the night I had fallen asleep with him on the couch.

“I don’t think this is what Jimin had in mind.”

Before I know it, he pulls me down on top of him so I’m sitting sideways in his lap, my head tilted against his shoulder.

“This, seems more in line with what he was talking about.” Jungkook is grinning, mischievousness flashing through his eyes, and I flush, trying to extricate myself.

“I don’t know if I can do this in public.”

“Well,” Jungkook practically sings in my ear. “Do you want to get called out at the Christmas Gala?”

“No,” I admit. “But-”

“But nothing.” He squeezes my hand with his other arm wrapping around my waist to pull me closer. My anxiety level rises. Apparently that was obvious enough for him, because his smile slides off his face as he lets go of my hand to run his fingers through my hair. “Relax.”

The knot in the pit of my stomach slowly undoes itself as the pads of his fingers trace patterns over my scalp. The palm of his hand is practically cradling my head to his chest as I curl up on his lap. “What if we mess up?”

“Namjoon and Jimin are there,” He reassures me. “They can cover for us if something goes wrong.”

“Don’t drink too much,” I whisper. “Act more drunk than you actually are to lure them in.”

“I know. We’ve gone over the plan so many times.”

“If the Wolves try to pull you away?”

“Find you, Namjoon, or Jimin. They underestimate me, and using me to try to extricate information will make them realize I’m more capable than they think. And it’s too early to use me as a trump card.” He recites back to me. “If they try to pull you away?”

“Flirt with Kim Seokjin or Min Yoongi. Entertain Jung Hoseok and Kim Taehyung.” I murmur back. “If they try to argue over non-business related issues?”

Jungkook closes his eyes, slumping back into the cushions and pulling me with him. “Smile and laugh. Over business related issues?”

“Pull out your claws, but only for a second. And then remind them that we are at the Christmas Gala and not at work.”

“See,” Jungkook’s mouth is against my forehead. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t forget the first dance.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget?” His chuckle is darker than necessary. The first dance at the Christmas Gala was for the romantics. The married couples were the ones who got up twirled on the dance floor.

And this year that would be us. My panic rises again and I start breathing harder. Jungkook’s eyes don’t even open as he unexpectedly finds my lips with his, making my eyes flutter shut.

“Calm down,” He whispers, forehead leaning against mine. “Wait, do we need to have nicknames for each other?”

I frown, eyes fluttering open. “Idiot.” I decide, nodding firmly. “Babo.”

“What?” He looks completely scandalized. “And here I was thinking that you would call me Oppa.”

“No way.”

“True. I'm younger than you, so what's your suggestion, jagiya?”

“Don’t call me that,” I say immediately, pushing away. It feels too soon and even if it is just for show, it didn’t feel right. It would definitely feel like I'm actually in a relationship then, and I would freeze every time he called me that. Something about that word makes me feel uncomfortable.

Something flickers in his eyes before he asks, “What about…my love?”

“O-okay.” There is something a little less tangible about that phrase. Maybe it's the fact that jagiya was a pretty common term used in relationships. Maybe it;s because the latter phrase was rarer, and it feels more like Jungkook is just playing the part.  “Do you think you can keep my phone inside your pocket for tonight?”

“Hm, yeah. Does Jimin usually do that?”

I nod back, pulling myself off of him. “We should probably get going. We can’t show up too late.”

He sits there for a few seconds, watching as I pull on my red-bottom heels that Jimin had gotten me for my eighteenth birthday.

“Your dress looks great,” His eyes sweep over the off-the-shoulder gown that hugs my hips and waist perfectly. I bask in the warmth of one of his rare compliments.

“Jimin picked it out,” I balance against the wall while he ties his shoes. “For some reason, he was really insisting that I wore something black and a bit tight.”

I pretend not to hear the “ you, Park Jimin,” that escapes from Jungkook’s lips right before I open the door to the garage.

Suga

“Oh h*ll no,” I mutter under my breath as I see the table with our names. “No.”

Sure enough, our four names were around the table. But across from Byun Hana, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Namjoon, and Park Jimin. This very much had been planned in the supposed “Christmas spirit” of the gala, in which we were supposed to be fraternizing with our enemies.

Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin are lazily wandering around the large ballroom, not having found the table yet and entertaining themselves with a few people that they knew.

“Where is that she-devil?” Jin growls.

Taehyung tilts his head to the side. “Wouldn’t she come in with Jeon Jungkook?”

“Oh, hello. I should have expected to see you all here.”

I turn, only to see Park Chanyeol dressed to the nines. “Mr. Park.”

“Please, just call me Chanyeol.” His eyes are twinkling and the side of his mouth is flicked up in his own characteristic way. “Have you been looking into the subject matter of our little talk from a few days ago?”

“Yes. But I don’t have anything conclusive yet.” I answer, before trying to ask the real question that his presence posed. “What are you doing here?”

He grimaces, “Got an invitation from one of the daughters of the families that are arranging this because we went on a few dates. She thinks it’s more serious that it really is and I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity.”

This man really did not get enough credit.

“You should go try to make connections,” Hoseok nods towards the groups of people who were talking. “Until the food, drinking, and dancing occurs, it’s a bit easier for newcomers.”

“I’ll take you up on that opportunity,” Park Chanyeol flashes a grin towards us. “It’ll be good practice to when I officially introduce myself to Byun Hana. I want to see how she’s going to treat me.” He walks away, sipping from his half-empty champagne flute.

“He doesn’t seem like much,” Jin murmurs.

“That’s what I thought at first too,” I retort. “He’ll surprise you.”

The noise levels within the ballroom slowly grow as the four of us try to make small talk with the elite of the Korean business world. Taehyung has a particularly tough time shaking off an elderly w