Work Text:
Amber and crimson leaves drift lazily through the golden afternoon light, adding to the soft carpet beneath five pairs of feet. Each step brought forth a satisfying crunch, like walking on those wafers Taemin used to love as a child. The air was crisp and sweet with the scent of ripening fruit, carrying just enough bite to redden their cheeks and noses.
Taemin tugged his oversized sweater closer, the sleeves falling past his fingertips. A shiver rippled through him, making Jonghyun snap to attention like a mother hen spotting a chick in distress.
"Ya! Taeminnie! Where's your scarf?" Jonghyun unwound one of his three scarves—the blue one that clashed spectacularly with the other two—and advanced toward him with determined steps.
"Hyung, I'm fine—" Taemin started to protest, but Jonghyun was already fussing with the fabric around his neck, muttering about catching colds and the importance of layering.
"Jamong." Jinki's voice was warm honey in the crisp air as he shrugged off his worn leather jacket. "You'll get cold with just two scarves."
Jonghyun's hands stilled on Taemin's scarf, his ears turning pink in a way that had nothing to do with the autumn chill. "I—but you'll be cold, hyung."
"I have another jacket," Jinki smiled, draping his jacket over Jonghyun's shoulders with gentle hands before rummaging through his bag for another. The leather practically swallowed Jonghyun's smaller frame, and something gentle crossed his face as he inhaled the lingering scent of Jinki's cologne.
Taemin watched the exchange with knowing eyes, noting how Jonghyun seemed to forget all about lecturing him on proper winter wear. The persimmon trees stretched around them in neat rows, their branches bowing under the weight of fruit that glowed like tiny suns in the slanting light.
A familiar whine cut through the peaceful orchard. "Yah, Minho-yah!"
Taemin glanced up to see Kibum dancing from foot to foot beneath one of the taller trees, his designer sweater—cashmere, no doubt—riding up to reveal a slice of pale skin as he stretched toward a particularly tempting persimmon. His fingers grasped at empty air, just centimeters short of their target. The fruit dangled mockingly above, round, perfect, and completely out of reach.
Minho materialized beside Kibum as if summoned. Without a word, he reached up his long arm, easily bridging the distance that had defeated Kibum.
"Here," he murmured, and something in his voice made Taemin want to look away, like he was intruding on an intimate moment. Minho's hand brushed against Kibum's palm as he passed over the persimmon, his thumb tracing a whisper-soft line across Kibum's wrist. Neither seemed to notice how they both held on a heartbeat too long or how their fingers intertwined and parted like leaves dancing in a gentle breeze.
From his spot a few trees away, Taemin pressed his lips together to hold back a sigh. His hyungs were impossible. Every time he thought they must finally see what was right in front of them, they'd just continue as if those tender moments were nothing more than friendly gestures.
He rolled his eyes, remembering all the times he'd been too short to reach something. If it had been him instead of Kibum struggling with that persimmon, Minho-hyung would have turned it into an impromptu training session, eyes glinting with that competitive spark as he lectured about proper stretching techniques and calcium intake. "Ya, Taeminnie! This is why you should drink your milk!" he'd probably crow, holding the fruit just out of reach like some sort of twisted exercise motivation.
The sound of expensive boots scuffing against fallen leaves drew his attention back to the scene. Kibum had stopped in his tracks, nose wrinkled as he surveyed the ground with the kind of dismay usually reserved for fashion disasters. Before he could voice his protest about the state of his pants—Taemin could practically hear the complaint forming—Minho was already in motion. His hands moved to the ties of his apron, fingers working quickly to undo the knots.
Silently, he spread his apron across the leaf-strewn ground, and Kibum sank onto it without missing a beat, as natural as breathing, as if he hadn't spent ten minutes that morning lecturing them about the proper care of designer clothing. Neither seemed to register how domestic it was, or how married they looked.
A movement caught Taemin's eye. Jonghyun was making exaggerated gestures at Jinki, mouthing "whipped" while pointing not-so-subtly at Minho. Their tallest member had taken up position next to Kibum like some kind of devoted bodyguard, eyes scanning the area as if calculating what Kibum might need next. A fresh persimmon? A drink of water? The moon itself?
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows through the orchard and painting everything in honey-gold light. Minho's shadow fell across Kibum, and Taemin watched as Kibum unconsciously leaned into its warmth, while Minho shifted his stance to better block the evening chill from reaching him. They moved like binary stars, always orbiting, always in sync, yet somehow blind to their own dance.
"They've grown a lot, haven't they?" Jinki murmured thoughtfully to Jonghyun, leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed. Anyone could see that Minho's typically boisterous energy transformed into something gentle around Kibum. Meanwhile, Taemin recalled how Kibum – who usually avoided anything remotely athletic – would still show up to all of Minho's soccer games, clipboard in hand. "Just keeping score," he'd always insist, even though they'd catch him cheering louder than anyone whenever Minho scored.
"And they both think they're being subtle," Jonghyun whispered back, unconsciously tilting toward Jinki's warmth. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he added, "Minho practically preens like a peacock whenever Kibum compliments him, and Kibum's eyes follow him everywhere, but somehow they both think it's just 'close friendship.That's like saying me and you—well." He stopped short abruptly, tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously.
The words hung in the air between them, delicate as frost. Taemin watched as Jonghyun's ears blazed red, his hyung ducking his head in that painfully familiar way he did whenever he accidentally revealed too much of his heart. Jinki-hyung's fingers twitched at his side—a tiny movement that most wouldn't notice, but Taemin had spent years with his hyungs. He knew that twitch meant Jinki wanted to reach for Jonghyun's hand, just as he recognized the soft exhale that meant their leader was adding another moment to his careful collection of almost-confessions.
Taemin resisted the urge to smack his forehead against the nearest tree. His hyungs were ridiculous, all of them. Here were Jinki and Jonghyun, dancing around each other with shy glances and aborted touches, while Minho and Kibum played out their own love story in plain sight, oblivious and in denial of how married they looked. They'd probably get married and adopt three kids before either of them admitted their feelings, Taemin thought with an internal eye roll. He could already imagine it:
"Oh, we just happened to buy a house together because the commute was convenient."
"The matching rings? They were on sale."
"Taking turns packing each other's lunches is what best friends do!"
"Raising children together? It's called co-parenting, Taemin, look it up."
At this rate, their future kids would probably figure it out before they did. Meanwhile, Jinki and Jonghyun would still be skirting around each other, pretending their faces didn't turn red every time their hands brushed against each other.
Sometimes, Taemin felt like he’d be celebrating his 20th anniversary as a solo artist before any of his hyungs figured out their feelings.
The methodical sound of peeling filled the air as they worked through their harvest. Kibum's fingers moved with precise grace, creating one long, continuous spiral of persimmon skin. His tongue poked out slightly in concentration as Minho kept sneaking glances, his own persimmon forgotten in his hands.
A wet splat broke the rhythm. Everyone froze as a strip of orange peel landed across Minho's cheek, leaving a trail of sticky juice. Kibum's eyes went wide, his mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise. For a moment, time was suspended like a held breath.
Then Kibum's laughter burst forth, bright and unrestrained. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, designer clothes forgotten as he nearly toppled onto the leaf-strewn ground. The sound seemed to transform Minho's initial shock into something playful. His face cycled through expressions—exaggerated outrage, theatrical betrayal, wounded dignity—each one carefully calibrated to draw out more of Kibum's joy.
"I’m sorry!" Kibum wheezed between giggles, pointing at the persimmon peel still stuck to Minho's cheek. "It wasn’t on purpose—" He dissolved into fresh peals of laughter before he could finish.
Minho's mock offense crumbled at the edges, his eyes crinkling with poorly suppressed delight. He carefully cataloged which expressions made Kibum laugh hardest, filing away each successful attempt like precious data. When Kibum's giggles finally subsided into hiccupping breaths, Minho's face had settled into something soft and wondering, as if he'd forgotten anyone else was there.
The evening air grew cooler, carrying the sweet smoke from their small grill. Sweet potatoes nestled in the coals, their skins slowly caramelizing. The sizzle of meat created a comfortable backdrop to their chatter. Taemin watched through the rising steam as Minho's chopsticks moved in a familiar dance—pick up the perfectly grilled piece, blow on it gently to cool it, then hover near Kibum's mouth without a word. Kibum would accept each offering without breaking his animated story about their latest photoshoot, his cheeks puffing out like a hamster's as he continued cooking.
"Look!" Kibum's voice lifted with barely contained excitement as he nudged Minho and held up his latest creation. The persimmon meringue caught the golden light of the setting sun, its peaks swirled to perfection. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, and Taemin had to bite back a laugh—as if any of them didn't know exactly whose approval Kibum was seeking. It was the same look he'd worn when he'd redecorated their entire dorm ("Minho-yah, doesn't the new layout make more sense?") or when he'd learned that one soccer formation just to explain strategies to Minho.
Minho leaned in close—closer than necessary, Taemin noted with increasing exasperation—to examine the dessert. Their foreheads were practically touching, and honestly, who needed to be that close to look at a meringue? "Ah, you're amazing, Kibum-ah!" he breathed, voice full of genuine awe, as if Kibum had just discovered the cure for cancer.
The pride in his tone made Kibum's ears turn pink, though he tried to play it off with a scoff. Taemin wondered if his hyung realized he only did that particular scoff—soft and pleased and barely hiding a smile—when Minho praised him.
"You two are like an old married couple," Jonghyun teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Rich coming from someone who wrote love songs that were obviously about their leader, Taemin thought dryly.
Twin blushes bloomed across their faces, but neither moved away. Kibum settled more firmly against Minho's side, though his expression suggested he wasn't even aware of doing so. Minho's hand found its way to the small of Kibum's back, as natural as gravity. They probably thought they were being subtle.
"Just really good friends," Kibum protested weakly, even as he tilted his head to rest against Minho's shoulder in a way that screamed otherwise.
"The best," Minho agreed, his fingers absently tracing patterns on Kibum's sweater. Taemin would bet his entire manga collection those patterns spelled out 'I love you.'
Taemin caught Jonghyun rolling his eyes so hard it looked painful. Even the usually patient Jinki let out a small noise of exasperation. At least those two could recognize obvious love when it wasn't their own, Taemin thought sarcastically.
The warm glow of lanterns replaced the setting sun, casting dancing shadows across their little gathering. Empty plates littered the low table, save for the last few pieces of Kibum's persimmon meringue that everyone was too full to finish—except Minho, who kept accepting bites whenever Kibum held up his fork with shining eyes.
Taemin wondered if he could get away with writing "JUST KISS ALREADY" in persimmon juice. Then again, knowing his hyungs, they'd probably just compliment each other's juice-stained lips and call it friendship.
"Time to decide who cleans," Jinki announced, producing a set of colored sticks from his jacket pocket. Four sets of eyes tracked his movements as he shuffled them in his palm. "Shortest stick does the dishes."
Kibum's fingers drummed against his thigh, a nervous tell he'd never quite mastered hiding. "This is ridiculous. We all know Jinki-hyung always loses at—" His words cut off as he pulled the fateful red stick, comically short against the others. His lower lip jutted out, and Taemin watched in fascination as Minho's eyes fixed on the pout with laser focus.
"The universe has spoken," Jonghyun sang, dodging the wadded-up napkin Kibum threw at him.
Before Kibum could launch into one of his theatrical complaints about dish duty ruining his moisturizing routine, Minho was already standing, sleeves rolled up to expose strong forearms. He didn't say a word, just moved toward the kitchen as if pulled by an invisible string. Kibum followed, his protests dying on his lips, the two of them falling into step as naturally as breathing.
"Finally, some peace," Taemin flopped onto his back, patting his full stomach and eyeing the way Jinki unconsciously shifted closer to Jonghyun while gathering plates. "Now, about those two..."
"They're hopeless," Jonghyun declared, keeping his voice low while sneaking glances at Jinki's hands. "Did you see how Minho nearly choked on his sweet potato when Kibum did that thing with his neck while laughing?"
Taemin raised an eyebrow at how Jonghyun's voice got a bit breathier whenever Jinki's fingers brushed his while passing plates. Pot, meet kettle.
"Or how Kibum pretends to hate Minho's aegyo but secretly records it on his phone?" Jinki chuckled, and Taemin noticed how Jonghyun practically melted at the sound.
"We have to do something," Taemin insisted, mentally adding 'about all of you' to his statement. "Maybe if we—"
The crash from the kitchen sliced through their plotting like a thunderclap. Three heads snapped up in unison, conversation forgotten. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then came a silence—not their usual post-bickering quiet, but something charged and electric.
They scrambled to their feet, nearly tripping over cushions in their haste. Taemin's socked feet carried him to the kitchen doorway first, his hand already reaching for the handle. The scene unfolded in snapshots, like a drama finale he'd been waiting five seasons to see:
Minho's broad back curving protectively over Kibum.
Kibum's fingers twisted in the soft wool of Minho's sweater.
Their shadows merging on the tile floor.
A forgotten plate bobbing in soapy water.
Two pairs of lips meeting like magnets finding their match.
Finally, Taemin thought. Then, Jonghyun's scream shattered the moment. It started as a gasp, climbed into a yelp, and finished as a full-throated screech that probably startled the birds from neighboring trees. He clapped both hands over his mouth, but the damage was done. Taemin noticed how Jinki instinctively steadied Jonghyun with a hand on his waist, though neither seemed aware of the gesture.
"Aigoo," Jinki sighed, the sound heavy with the resignation of a leader who'd seen too much. His hand moved automatically to cover Taemin's eyes, muscle memory from years of protecting their maknae from his hyungs' antics.
Taemin rubbed his head against Jinki's palm like an affectionate cat, then ducked smoothly to the side, years of dance training making the movement fluid and silent. Just in time to see Minho and Kibum spring apart—well, mostly apart. Minho's arm remained locked around Kibum's waist like he'd forgotten how to let go, or perhaps had never learned in the first place.
"Ah..." Kibum's voice cracked on the single syllable, his usually perfect hair delightfully mussed. A deep flush painted his cheeks, spreading down his neck to disappear beneath his collar. "Surprise?"
Taemin fought the urge to slow clap. Finally. Though watching how Jinki and Jonghyun had unconsciously moved closer together during the revelation, hands almost touching as they processed the scene, he wondered if they realized they were next on his list.
"We've…been dating for a while now," Minho added, thumb still tracing absent patterns on Kibum's hip. His usual confident tone carried a hint of breathlessness, like he'd been running one of his endless soccer drills. Taemin had seen that same breathless look when Kibum wore those ripped jeans to practice last week, but he'd kept that observation to himself.
"Three months," Kibum added, then turned to give Minho a look so fond it made Taemin's teeth ache. He caught Jinki and Jonghyun exchanging a glance before quickly looking away, and barely resisted the urge to bang their heads together.
Jonghyun seemed to have finally recovered from his initial shock, though his hands remained pressed dramatically against his chest—right where Jinki's hand had steadied him moments ago, Taemin noted with growing amusement. "THREE MONTHS?" he squawked. "You mean while we've been watching you two dance around each other like lovesick puppies—"
"Planning interventions—" Taemin chimed in, mentally adding 'for all of you' to his list.
"Suffering through your obvious pining—" Jonghyun continued, building steam while unconsciously leaning toward Jinki's warmth.
"You were already together?" Jinki finished, his leader voice tinged with fond exasperation. His hand hovered near Jonghyun's back, not quite touching but clearly wanting to.
Kibum had the grace to look slightly sheepish, though the effect was somewhat ruined by how he was practically purring as Minho's fingers carded through his disheveled hair. "We wanted to figure things out without pressure?"
"That, and Kibummie said it was fun watching you all try to play matchmaker," Minho added, then yelped as Kibum pinched his side.
"Ya! Don't expose all our secrets!" But there was no heat in Kibum's words, just a warmth that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. The same warmth Taemin spotted in Jinki's eyes whenever Jonghyun fell asleep on his shoulder during movie nights.
"Too late for secrets now, jagiya," Minho murmured, pressing a kiss to Kibum's temple with the ease of someone who'd done it countless times before.
"Oh god, they're going to be even worse now, aren't they?" Taemin groaned, but his grin betrayed his joy. "At least before they were trying to hide it." Unlike some other hyungs he could mention, who still thought writing songs about 'your bunny smile' and 'warm hands holding mine' was subtle.
"Speaking of hiding," Jonghyun's eyes narrowed playfully, "how exactly did this happen? We need details. Immediately."
"Well," Kibum started, a mischievous glint in his eye as he turned in Minho's embrace. "Remember that day at dance practice when Minho-yah nearly face-planted during the easiest part of the choreography?"
Taemin watched as Jonghyun unconsciously shifted closer to Jinki, like a flower seeking sunlight, ready to hear the story. Their leader's arm naturally lifted to make space, and Taemin wondered if either of them realized how they always gravitated toward each other during storytelling.
"Kibum-ah," Minho whined, burying his reddening face in Kibum's neck.
Kibum's eyes sparkled with the same mischief they'd had when he'd caught Jonghyun writing lyrics about 'gummy smiles' in his notebook last week. "It's practically a romantic comedy."
"More like a tragedy for my dignity," Minho mumbled against Kibum's neck, but made no real move to stop him. His arms just tightened around Kibum's waist, accepting his fate.
"So there we were, practicing that new choreography," Kibum began, practically bouncing with glee. Taemin noticed how Jonghyun had started unconsciously playing with the sleeve of Jinki's sweater. "You know, the one with the simple turn? Even Taeminnie said it was easy—"
"Hey!" Taemin protested, though his attention was split between Kibum's story and the way Jinki's fingers had started absently stroking Jonghyun's arm in response to his sleeve-pulling.
"Shush, maknae, I'm telling a story." Kibum waved off Taemin's protest. "Anyway, I was at the front, running through the moves. Nothing special, just basic steps. Then I hear this almighty crash behind me—"
"Because you just had to wear those leather pants that day," Minho interjected, finally lifting his head. His ears were still pink, but his eyes held nothing but fond resignation.
"Excuse you, those pants are a work of art," Kibum sniffed. "Not my fault you can't handle haute couture."
"Not my fault you look illegal in them," Minho countered, then immediately flushed darker as he remembered their audience.
Taemin caught Jonghyun trying to hide his smile against Jinki's shoulder, while their leader's eyes crinkled with barely suppressed laughter. The two had somehow ended up pressed together from shoulder to hip during the story, and Taemin wondered if he should start a betting pool on how long it would take them to realize they were practically cuddling.
"Face first," Kibum confirmed gleefully. "Sprawled out on the practice room floor like a starfish. I thought he was having a seizure at first—"
"I was trying to play it cool!" Minho protested, and Taemin noticed how Jonghyun had to muffle his laugh against Jinki's sweater. Their leader's hand had somehow found its way to Jonghyun's waist, steadying him as he shook with suppressed giggles.
"Cool? Baby, you were about as cool as Jonghyun-hyung trying to wink."
"Ya!" Jonghyun's indignant squawk was somewhat undermined by how he remained tucked against Jinki's side.
"So naturally, I rushed over to make sure this big baby hadn't concussed himself," Kibum continued, his free hand absently playing with the collar of Minho's sweater. "And he just looks up at me with these big earnest eyes and says—"
"Don't you dare—"
"'I fell for you,'" Kibum quoted in a perfect imitation of Minho's deeper voice- the one he uses when he's trying to impress Kibum. "'Literally and figuratively.'"
"That's the worst confession I've ever heard," Taemin declared, but he was grinning. At least one pair of his hopelessly romantic hyungs had figured it out, even if the other two were still writing longing glances into love songs and pretending they were just 'feeling the music' when they held hands during vocal practice.
"It worked though, didn't it?" Minho defended himself, pressing a quick kiss to Kibum's nose just to watch him scrunch it up in mock annoyance.
"Only because I'd been waiting months for this idiot to make a move," Kibum admitted. "Though I had imagined something a bit more romantic than the practice room floor."
"Waiting?" Jonghyun's eyes widened, and Taemin didn't miss how Jinki's hand tightened slightly on his waist at the word. "You mean—"
"You were both pining?" Jinki finished, looking like he was developing a headache. Rich coming from someone who still hadn't noticed how Jonghyun's new songs all seemed to feature leaders, warm hands, and gummy smiles.
"Well..." Kibum cleared his throat. "I might have been harboring feelings since that time Minho started showing up to all my filming sessions with honey tea and padding jackets."
"And I might have been in love since Kibum decided to be the 'ball boy' at all my soccer matches even though he hates sports," Minho added softly, making Kibum flush pink to his ears.
Jinki shifted, and Taemin caught the way his hand unconsciously moved to steady Jonghyun, who had started fidgeting with his sleeve again—the same nervous habit he had whenever Jinki praised his compositions. The parallel was almost painful to watch.
"That long?" Jonghyun breathed, and Taemin wanted to point out how he sounded exactly like when he'd discovered Jinki had kept all his demo tapes, even the embarrassing ones from their trainee days. "But you always acted so... normal?"
"Normal?" Taemin couldn't help but snort. "Hyung, Kibum-hyung reorganized the entire practice room just so Minho-hyung would have the 'optimal viewing angle' for his stretches."
"That was for better form!" Kibum protested, though his blush deepened.
"And Minho-hyung just happened to start bringing two water bottles to every practice?" Taemin raised an eyebrow. "Like how Jinki-hyung always packs extra honey for Jonghyun-hyung's throat?"
"Taemin!" Jonghyun squeaked, jerking away from Jinki so quickly that he nearly tripped. Their leader's hands shot out automatically to steady him, landing on his waist in a gesture so natural it made Taemin's point for him.
"Oh?" Kibum's eyes lit up with that dangerous sparkle he got when discovering prime gossip material.
Jonghyun let out a nervous laugh and stepped back, rubbing his neck. "Ah, we should probably clean up these dishes, right? Since we interrupted Kibum and Minho..."
"Right," Jinki agreed too quickly, though his eyes lingered on Jonghyun with something soft and unspoken. "The dishes."
Taemin caught Kibum and Minho exchanging understanding looks. They knew better than anyone that some feelings needed time to find their shape. Besides, they had all night—all their lives, really—for things to unfold naturally.
"Well, since you interrupted our dish duty," Kibum declared, seamlessly shifting the mood to protect their hyungs' hearts, "you can all help us finish. Even you, Taeminnie!"
"But hyung," Taemin whined, though he was already rolling up his sleeves. "I'm as adept at cleaning dishes as a baby!"
"Baby who can execute a perfect triple turn but can't dry a plate?" Minho teased, ruffling Taemin's hair with his free hand, the other still naturally curved around Kibum's waist. "Nice try."
Jonghyun brightened, tension melting from his shoulders as they fell back into their familiar dynamic. "Remember when Taeminnie used to be too short to reach the dish rack?"
"Ya! I grew!" Taemin protested, but he was grinning as he hip-checked Jonghyun toward the sink.
"Our Taeminnie grew up well," Jinki agreed fondly, already rolling up his sleeves to join them.
The autumn night pressed cool against the kitchen windows, carrying the sweet scent of ripe persimmons. Inside, warmth bloomed as five voices blended in comfortable chaos. This was what mattered most, Taemin thought as he watched his family move around each other with practiced ease. How Minho might be dating Kibum now, but he still saved his brightest smiles for all of them. How Kibum's prickly exterior melted not just for Minho, but for every member who needed his love. The way they all gravitated toward each other, different kinds of love flowing between them like rivers finding the sea.
"You know what this means though?" Taemin said suddenly, making them all look up. "Next time we go persimmon picking, Minho-hyung has to share the big ones with all of us, not just his boyfriend."
"I did not—" Minho started.
"You absolutely did," everyone chorused, and the kitchen filled with laughter again.
Outside, the persimmon trees swayed in the gentle breeze, their branches a little lighter after today's harvest. Inside, five hearts beat in a familiar rhythm, some secrets now shared, others still waiting for their moment to bloom, but all of them bound together by something deeper than romance—the steady, unshakeable love of family chosen and kept.