“Go,” Yoongi says as he ducks as inconspicuously as possible into the car, setting his backpack beside him, containing his disassembled AS50 rifle. Hoseok nods from the front and pulls away from the curb, connecting gazes with Yoongi in the rear-view mirror.

   “Did it go alright?”

   “You should know; you’re in my bloody earpiece the whole time,” Yoongi grumbles, taking the thing out of his ear and tossing it to the front seat. “Speaking of that, could you do me a favour and quit bellowing out carols when I’m trying to take my damn shot?”

   “Just trying to keep the Christmas spirit alive,” Hoseok says and Yoongi knows he’s pouting. “And it gets lonely in here.”

   Yoongi scoffs, slipping his black gloves off his hands.

   “Where did you hit him?” Hoseok asks, eyes focused on the road and fingers still tapping out the melody “Jingle Bells”.

   “Forehead—kill-shot. Not taking any risks with this one.” Yoongi stares out the window, seeing the Christmas lights decorating the shops of downtown Tokyo as they whip past. Jimin would like this, he thinks, recalling the younger’s obsession with the holiday season.

   “Did you see him fall?” Hoseok looks at him again in the rear-view, pulling the older from his thoughts.

   “Barely stayed long enough to see, but yeah.” Yoongi picks the muzzle of the gun out of his backpack and begins cleaning it with a napkin, wiping it of any residue from the bullet. “Have you called the others?”

   “Nope, not yet.” Hoseok tosses a phone into Yoongi’s lap. “Wanna do the honours?”

   Yoongi slips the muzzle back into his bag and, pressing familiar buttons, clicks ‘call’ on the phone. He holds it up to his ear.

   “Yeah?” a voice answers, out of breath. Jungkook.

   “Hey, how’s it holding up on your end?” Yoongi taps his fingers against the inside of his thigh.

   “We killed three of them, but two got away. None dead on our side, but…uhm…”

   Yoongi’s fingers still. “What?” The other side of the line is quiet for a beat. “Jeon Jungkook.”

   “It’s nothing big, hyung, but…” Jungkook pauses again and Yoongi’s throat feels like closing up. “One of us got hit.” Like he can sense Yoongi’s panic start to rise, he hurries to reassure him. “It’s not a major injury, just a hit to the arm. Really, nothing big, we’re patching him up as we speak.”

   “Put him on,” Yoongi says, knowing without a doubt who the kid is talking about. Jungkook sighs and there is a rustle.

   “Hyung—“ a new voice starts and Yoongi doesn’t even take two seconds to interrupt him.

   “You idiot, you got caught?”

   “Oh for God’s sake,” Jimin mumbles into the receiver. “We didn’t expect the guy to be armed, alright? It’s nothing I haven’t handled before, I’m fine.”

   Leaning back in his seat, Yoongi sighs and slips his beanie off to card his fingers roughly through his peppermint hair, murmuring a soft “yeah” before hanging up.

   He’s so going to kill Seokjin for this.

~~~

“I knew you never should have made their end an inside job! Why couldn’t they do what I did? Shoot from a distance where they wouldn’t get caught. I walked away without a scratch, but one on their team escaped with a bullet in his arm.” Yoongi’s cheeks are flushed by the time he’s finished his rant and Seokjin levels him with a look, hands folded in front of him, suit like always meticulously wrinkle-free.

   “Are you sure you’re upset about the job and not your boyfriend’s arm?”

   “He’s not my boyfriend,” Yoongi says, hands still on the table, resenting every bit of his boss’ teasing tone.

   “But you sure would like that, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon mumbles from where he’s mapping out blueprints across from Seokjin.

   Closing his eyes and pointedly ignoring that comment, Yoongi focuses back on the oldest. “It was just an unnecessary risk, there was no point of him getting hurt.”

   “Oh stop it, I’m fine,” Jimin says, entering the room through the glass doors with Taehyung following close behind. There is a simple cut on his cheek and his white shirt is splattered with blood, but he seems fine indeed.

   “Yeah thanks to me,” Taehyung says, heaving their bags of equipment onto the long table to unload them. Jimin punches him with his good arm.

   “Did you get all of them?” Seokjin asks.

   “Two escaped; their assistants,” Taehyung strips himself of his bullet-proof vest, dumping it on the table. “But Jungkook’s got a location on them. He took the rest of the team to go after them.”

   Seokjin nods solemnly, watching as Taehyung uncocks a gun to put in the glass case lining the wall. “You did well boys. The flight back is early tomorrow so go get some sleep. A car will be there to pick you up at five. Oh, and Merry Christmas.” Seokjin says it with a smile and Yoongi looks over to Jimin, but he frowns when he sees the darkening fall of the younger’s face.

   Jimin’s eyes meet his and he quickly looks away.

~~~

Their hotel is fancy. They got rooms high up, with a view out over the city, a Christmas gift from Seokjin for completing their mission, and Yoongi wishes it could be like this more often. Staying at proper hotels instead of having to hide in bunkers 50 feet under the ground.

   He knows the other boys share his sentiment as he had watched Taehyung and Jungkook look around the hotel lobby like children at a candy store. Jimin, on the other hand, hadn’t looked as cheerful and Yoongi begins to worry about the kid, who is usually his happiest at Christmas.

   In the pair’s shared room, Yoongi washes up first, brushing his teeth and changing into a sleep shirt. Rubbing a damp towel over his neck, he steps out to see Jimin sitting on the small sofa, white shirt off so he is left in his vest only, bandage stained with blood around his bicep.

   He doesn’t look up when Yoongi comes out, but is instead staring darkly down at a green twig he’s twirling between his thumb and forefinger. Mistletoe.

   “Where did you find that?” Yoongi asks, tossing the towel onto the chair next to his bed and beginning to fold his clothes into a pile.

   “Swiped it from the lobby,” Jimin says, not taking his eyes off the mistletoe for a second. “Desk clerk didn’t even notice.” His voice is dark, emptily monotone, and Yoongi thinks he’s the only one who’s ever seen him like this.  

   Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Alright, what’s got you in the dumps?”

   Jimin sighs. “I haven’t had a real Christmas in six years. It’s always been mission after mission. No presents, no tree, no lights to hang up. Just guns and blood.”

   “Jeez, could you be more miserable?” Yoongi says rhetorically and Jimin finally looks up at him. The older thinks he’s never seen him this distraught.

   “I’m serious, hyung. I’m missing out on so many traditions. Right now, I could be sitting on my parents’ sofa, sipping hot cocoa and watching Home Alone. I could be unwrapping gifts.” Jimin looks down at his hands. “I could be kissing someone under the mistletoe.”

   Yoongi has stopped folding his clothes and just listens to Jimin’s soft pained voice.

   “Sometimes I just wanna be normal. Have a boring job, a tiny flat, and five cats. Sometimes I wish I had never become a spy.”

   “Hey, don’t say that,” Yoongi says, raising one shoulder. “If you hadn’t, you never would have met me. And that’s just a shame, I’m a delight.”

   Jimin jerks his head up, like a brilliant idea struck him, and his eyes fasten themselves on Yoongi’s. “Would you help me, hyung?”

   Yoongi is dumbfounded. “With what?”

   Jimin’s responding smile graces his face slowly and softly. He rises out of his seat and walks over to Yoongi. Raising his unwounded arm above their heads, he says, “Christmas tradition.”

   Looking up, Yoongi’s heart stops in his chest. If he hadn’t had years of training his poker face, his jaw would have dropped.

   “Will you kiss me?”

   Yoongi drops his gaze to Jimin and squints at him. “Are you drunk? I figured the eggnog they served in the lobby was spiked.”

   “No, hyung.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’m not drunk. I just want to kiss you.”

   Yoongi regards the younger’s flushed cheeks and twists his mouth to the side. “Jimin, I seriously think you’re drunk, just sleep it off.”

   Yoongi turns to grab the sheets of his bed, but Jimin catches his wrist. “I’m not drunk.” He brings his arm down and closes Yoongi’s fingers around the sprig of mistletoe. “I’m asking you to kiss me.”

   “Jimin—“

   “Because I want to.”

   “Jiminnie,” Yoongi says, softer this time and Jimin moves closer, tentatively. “As long as you won’t tell me you regret it after.”

   Their lips are a hair-breadth apart and Jimin’s head jerks forward by instinct. “Promise I won’t.”

   Yoongi makes a sound that sounds a lot like giving up and he pulls Jimin in by his nape to mold his lips against his. The younger sets his hands on the other’s waist, drawing him closer, and their mouths slant over one another’s sloppily and heatedly. Yoongi’s fingers twist further into Jimin’s hair while his other hand slips from his shoulder, lightly over the bandage of his toned bicep and then skating over his ribs, curling under the vest and pressing into his stomach.

   Jimin’s skin is hot to the touch and the boy makes a noise which Yoongi swallows. Hands coming up to cup the sides of Yoongi’s face, Jimin breaks away to breathe heavily against the older’s cheek before pushing his lips back against his and something in Yoongi breaks. Jimin’s hands are gentle, too gentle for this to seem like a one-time thing, and his kisses soon turn into the same, lips just grazing over Yoongi’s, making the older’s heart flutter in response to the other’s touches, making a beat of its own to match Jimin’s.

   They slow down to a stop, softly until their foreheads are touching and Jimin’s thumb is caressing circles into Yoongi’s cheekbone.

   The older clears his throat. “’Christmas tradition’ enough for you?”

   Jimin laughs quietly and pressing another kiss to his lips. “Thank you, hyung. It was more than enough.”

Bonus:

On their way to their private flight the next morning, Yoongi stops at the small café next to the hotel to buy large cups of hot cocoa for the team, while Taehyung redresses the boy’s bandages in the car, even getting them to spring for the tiny marshmallows and when he settles into the leather seats of the van with Jimin by his side, he borrows Jungkook’s laptop to stream Home Alone on while Jimin gives him a smile that could rival the Christmas lights of Tokyo.

“Merry Christmas, hyung.”

“Merry Christmas, you little .”