šŸŽ„ Christmas special šŸ’—

Itā€™s hard to espresso my feelings for you.

wishing you a latte love for the holidays

Jongdaeā€™s new favorite person to be with works in the neat little cafe he found quite by accident.

Ā 



Ā 

Jongdaeā€™s new favorite place to be is a neat little cafe he found quite by accident. Whenever he has timeā€”even when he doesnā€™t, but he makes timeā€”he visits Universe and orders something new. Everything tastes good. Not mind blowing or life changing, but good.

If heā€™s honest, the barista with a bit of an accent is the real reason he keeps going back.

Yixing is a little bit taller than him, very handsome, and exudes a kind patience that Jongdae can only compare to that of a beloved grandparent. Heā€™s just sweet.

And super cute.

Those dimples, man.

Plus, heā€™s a musician. Jongdaeā€™s weak for musical men. Maybe heā€™s self-projecting a little, but it just adds to Yixingā€™s charm.

Revealing his identity as an idol changes nothing. Rather than shock or squealing glee, Yixing simply accepts it. The knowledge is just a pebble in the water, and the ripples smooth over. Jongdae jokes about it.

ā€œIā€™m almost hurt you didnā€™t recognize me sooner.ā€

ā€œYou might not have kept coming back, if I had,ā€ Yixing reasons. ā€œI wouldnā€™t want to scare you away.ā€

Heā€™s allowed to stay after closing one night, and that seems to be a sort of tipping point. After solid weeks on the roadā€”or in a plane, as the case may beā€”Jongdae has a bit of a break in that heā€™s scheduled around Korea rather than all of southeast Asia. He can stop at Universe for a drink and chat with Yixing after closing time.

Itā€™s just coincidence that itā€™s around the holidays now. Everything is framed in lights and dripping with ornaments and bracing for forecasted snow. Universe has green and red lights around its front windows, and the inside is all green garland and soft white fairy lights.

Jongdae suspects a little bit of schedule finagling, because heā€™s not all that late yet the cafe is noticeably dark. Itā€™s unusual.

Peering inside, he knocks gently, and Yixing appears within moments to let him in and flip the sign to CLOSED. For good measure, he also locks the door, and Jongdae grins.

ā€œI always get a little worried when you do that. Afraid Iā€™ll run?ā€

ā€œNo.ā€ Yixing answers honestly. His smile warms Jongdae more than any hot drink. ā€œJust to keep others out. I enjoy our time alone together.ā€

Jongdae drapes his jacket and scarf over the rungs of a chair flipped on top of a small table. He takes some time to admire the decor; whoever put it together did a very nice job. Itā€™s not extravagant or opulent and suits the cafeā€™s mood.

Itā€™s not easy to match holiday decorations with a space theme. He kind of wishes theyā€™d tried a little harder in that aspect.

Yixing is behind the counter, stirring two mugs simultaneously. Jongdae leans on his elbows after pushing up the sleeves of his sweater. ā€œAre you going home for the holidays?ā€

ā€œNot this year. Iā€™d like to, but itā€™s just not practical now. We talk pretty much every day; Iā€™m happy just to talk with them.ā€ He gestures with a mug, and Jongdae follows him onto the little raised area of the cafe, where a sofa flanked by lamps faces a piano. ā€œWhat about you? Your fansite says youā€™re still busy.ā€

The hot chocolate has a marshmallow snowman on its back, slowly melting into sweet foam. ā€œI donā€™t know if Iā€™ll ever not be busy, but itā€™s local, at least. I still get to sleep in my own bed.ā€ When he finds the time to sleep, anyway. ā€œBut Iā€™ll get to be with my parents for a while. My brother and his family will join us..ā€ he shrugs, ā€œsometime. Weā€™re not sure when, yet.ā€

ā€œThat will be nice.ā€ Yixing takes a seat at the piano. It must be habit; he never sits anywhere but the piano bench in the admittedly brief time Jongdaeā€™s known him. He sips his chocolate and plays something familiar one-handed. It evolves to a full piece once he uses both hands, and Jongdaeā€™s more than content to be the sole audience.

Battery-operated candles in frosted glass barely light up Yixingā€™s face, but Jongdae knows his eyes are probably closed. He admitted, once, that he didnā€™t learn to read sheet music for a long time, so heā€™s used to feeling what he plays rather than reading it.

Unfortunately, thereā€™s only so much time to enjoy the performance and company. Jongdae a cooling bit of marshmallow from his lip. ā€œYou said you had something for me? Iā€™m sorry; I didnā€™t get you anything.ā€

ā€œItā€™s no problem. I did this on my own, without expectation of anything but being allowed to share it with you.ā€ Without introduction or preamble, he readjusts his posture and launches into a song Jongdae doesnā€™t know. It has the melancholic, hopeful tone that fits a lot of holiday music, but Jongdae has a feeling it wasnā€™t written with any particular season in mind.

The last notes peter out but donā€™t stop; Yixing continues playing softly. ā€œDo you like it?ā€

ā€œYes. What is it? I donā€™t recognize it.ā€

ā€œYou shouldnā€™t. I wrote it.ā€ Heā€™s quiet for a few notes before adding,ā€ For you.ā€

Thankfully, the lights are dim, because Jongdaeā€™s cheeks burn hot, and he knows itā€™s not from his lukewarm chocolate. ā€œYou wrote it for me? Like, to sing, or?ā€

Yixing shrugs. ā€œWhatever youā€™d like. Itā€™s yours. I made it up while thinking about you.ā€

Heā€™s got a way of not mincing words. Nothing is sugar coated. Double-entendre and innuendo go over his head most of the time.

Jongdae plays with the small weight in his pocket. He may have kinda lied when he said he didnā€™t have anything for the musical barista. Itā€™s nothing store-bought, but itā€™s something he feels Yixing will appreciate more.

ā€œI actually do have something for you. Iā€™ve been carrying it around for a little while, now, but consider it a Christmas presentā€”ā€ He presents the USB drive. ā€œSome of my unreleased songs. Theyā€™re very rough; I donā€™t usually share them until I think Iā€™ve got something worthwhile, but I thought you might enjoy them or be able to make something out of them. Some are just me singing stuff I made up.ā€

Pulling his legs up, Yixing spins around the bench to face Jongdae fully. ā€œAre you sure?ā€

Shrugging and nodding, Jongdae holds his breathā€”

ā€”and sighs.

ā€œI trust you, so yeah.ā€

Yixing moves to sit beside him on the sofa, taking the USB drive as though accepting national secrets rather. Itā€™s not that deep, but Yixing closes his hands over Jongdaeā€™s.

ā€œThank you. Iā€™ll listen to them carefully.ā€

Jongdae canā€™t look at his honest, honestly handsome face without feeling giggle bubbling up his throat, so he looks away. The cafe ceiling is one large mural of space, but thereā€™s something hanging overhead heā€™s not noticed before.

ā€œWhatā€™s that?ā€

He can breathe normally again when Yixing looks up. He, too, frowns in confusion.

ā€œI donā€™t knowā€¦ā€ Standing, he reaches for the suspended object. His sweater rides up a little bit, which Jongdae definitely doesnā€™t notice. ā€œItā€™s a plant?ā€ Yixing unties the ribbon holding the plant to its string and sits again, cradling it in his hand.

The bundle of leaves and white berries fits in his palm, shedding little shards of glitter it had been rolled in. Thereā€™s no fragrance, although the leaves feel real when Jongdae touches them. It does look familiar, and itā€™s the red ribbon that helps him make the connection.

ā€œMistletoe.ā€ He hums. ā€œItā€™s supposed to be good luck.ā€

ā€œIsnā€™t it the kissing plant, too?ā€

Again, Yixing has a way with words.

Jongdae laughs. He shakes his head when Yixing asks if heā€™s wrong. ā€œYouā€™re right! I just never heard anyone refer to it like that.ā€ His laughter dies to chuckles, and they both stare at the plant.

ā€œI guess I should put it back...ā€

Now that they know itā€™s there, they canā€™t seem to stop staring at the good luck kissing plant.

ā€œShould weā€”I mean, can Iā€¦?ā€ As Jongdaeā€™s been ogling the plant, Yixingā€™s evidently been ogling him; he doesnā€™t look away when Jongdae catches his eye.

Jongdae holds up the USB drive and taps it against Yixingā€™s hand, pressing it to his palm when the barista flips his hand over. ā€œFor good luck.ā€

They lean close, meeting with sparks in their hearts that warm them more than their cooled chocolates.

The mistletoe sparkles in the low light, like embers in a fireplace or distant stars in the blanket of night.

Itā€™s a pretty good way to spend a holiday.

Jongdaeā€™s new favorite person to be with works in the neat little cafe he found quite by accident.


a/n: Written for XingDae Cafe's "Xingmas Daes."

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Jkloey
#1
Chapter 1: Uwu the whole fic is so cozy and comfy I suddenly feel like drinking lattes
seven_oh_seven
1489 streak #2
Chapter 1: I'm confused. Like, why is there no comments here??? This fic is really good. It's simple and nice. Thank you for this!