Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“I’m off to work,” Dae-ho called out as he rapidly buttoned up his dress shirt, tucking it into his black pants. He wandered around the various corners of the house, checking his reflection in each one and tucking flyaways behind his ears, oddly reminding himself of his roommate–

“Nam-gyu?” Dae-ho asked, seeing said roommate sprawled out against the couch, drool caking his face and the cushions. “Nam-gyu! You’re gonna be late for work!”

Nam-gyu let out a small groan and buried himself deeper into the couch.

Dae-ho let out a worried breath. “Come on, man, you can’t be late on your second day,” he whined, grabbing Nam-gyu’s shoulder and rocking him back and forth. “ Nam-gyu !”

His roommate finally began to stir as he blinked blearily, looking up at Dae-ho’s face. “Five more minutes, man…” he mumbled into the pillow, about to fall back asleep.

“You have to get up now !” Dae-ho attempted to be stern, but to no avail. He shot a glance to the kitchen where his basically- other -roommate stood, pouring expired diet soda into a cup and trying not to wince at the taste. “Se-mi?” Dae-ho practically begged.

Se-mi returned a sympathetic glance. “Just let the fucker be late,” she offered, bringing the cup back to her lips. “Serves him right.”

Dae-ho, unable to accept such an act of injustice, later found himself pulling Nam-gyu by the shoulder into his bathroom, practically a walking zombie up until Dae-ho ran his hands with cold water and slapped them on either side of Nam-gyu’s face, making him yelp. “What the fuck ?” He hissed out, rubbing where twin red splotches were starting to form.

“No time!” Dae-ho insisted, shoving a toothbrush into Nam-gyu’s hand, filling his cup with water, and tossing a few shirts that came close to office attire on his bed. “You have five minutes to get dressed and ready before I leave you to catch a bus.”

“What?!” Nam-gyu sputtered, squeegeeing an excess amount of toothpaste onto the bristles and wincing. “Dae-ho— Dae-ho ! You can’t be serious?!”

“ Five minutes !” Came the response, and Nam-gyu let out a long string of expletives as he tried to change out of his sleepwear while brushing his teeth with the other hand.

“ Shit, shit shit — you can’t seriously— Dae-ho !”

The two found themselves later crammed into Nam-gyu’s excuse of a barely functioning car as Dae-ho wrestled to force the keys into ignition, causing Nam-gyu to sputter indignantly as he loosened the too-tight buttons at his collar, adjusting his tablet in his lap and wiping away any traces of toothpaste still left on the corners of his mouth.

“It’s my car, why are you driving–?”

“Buckle up!”

“ Wh– ?!”

The car spurred to life and launched Nam-gyu promptly backward. He learned to buckle up.

“Since when were you so mean?” Nam-gyu grumbled, but meshed his thumbs angrily against his phone which was ( hopefully ) connected to the car’s Bluetooth system, attempting to input the coordinates of… “Shit, what’s the address again?”

Dae-ho shot him a laughable look. “You work there now!”

“Just tell me the address!”

“Uh…” Dae-ho racked his brain but eventually answered, and Nam-gyu pressed start on the GPS coordinator, and–

“Twelve minutes late,” Nam-gyu supplied, taking off his glasses for a second to rub the corners of his eyes.

Dae-ho looked torn between slamming on the breaks and wrangling Nam-gyu’s head off. The upstanding citizen he was, he did neither. “Tomorrow, you have to be five minutes early. And stop sleeping on the couch,” he berated.

“What’s wrong with the couch?”

Dae-ho gave him a deadpan look and nearly cursed when a red light appeared. He groaned into his hands. “ Shit .”

“Just speed through it! We could’ve made that,” Nam-gyu complained.

“We could’ve gotten a fine !”

“We’re already running late anyway,” Nam-gyu retorted.

Dae-ho looked very close to banging his head on the steering wheel.

Ten minutes to the building, Nam-gyu’s phone pinged with a notification from Instagram. He’d recently wiped all traces of his previous account off the internet— well, as much as it could be erased— and edited a few major details on his alternate account to appear more professional . As professional as he could be, at least, for the new follower and message request coming in. Nam-gyu frowned and accepted.

As Dae-ho cursed at a car— “Did he just put his right blinker on while turning left?!”— Nam-gyu looked at his phone and let out an ohhh of recognition.

“Oh shit, that’s Min-su.”

Dae-ho looked at him incredulously. “Who? The bad driver just now?”

Nam-gyu glanced up. “No— what? Se-mi’s friend, Min-su, just found my new account.”

“ Oh , him,” Dae-ho vocalized, nodding. “Hey, we should get coffee with him sometime. Maybe this Saturday?”

Nam-gyu gave him a disgruntled look. “I work weekends now, idiot.”

Dae-ho grimaced. “Oh, yeah…”

Nam-gyu looked up from his phone slowly, his typing suddenly ceased. He cleared his throat and asked quietly, “hey, Dae-ho?”

“Yeah?” Dae-ho replied, keeping his eyes trained on the road. Upstanding citizen.

“So, speaking of coffee…”

“What did your schedule clear up?” Dae-ho asked, slowly braking at a red light.

“Uhm. No,” Nam-gyu answered. Dae-ho looked at him curiously when the car came to a complete stop, only to be met with Nam-gyu’s phone in his face. He squinted, attempting to read the words, then looked at who was holding the phone with a glare.

“Nam-gyu…” Dae-ho said warningly, but came out more as a whine.

“Please?”

“It’s literally coffee.”

“But it means more.”

“We’re already twelve— thirteen minutes late,” Dae-ho begged back.

“It’s only my second day, you don’t want me to make a bad impression, do you?” Nam-gyu pleaded, clasping his hands together and trying to look at Dae-ho innocently. 

God knows that look never worked— no one was naive enough to fall for it, but Dae-ho was kind enough to look past it and give in regardless. Model citizen, matter of fact. He let out a resounding sigh and re-entered the nearest coffee shop as the new address in the navigator guide with his free hand, and made a U-turn.

“ Yes! Thanks, Dae-ho,” Nam-gyu tacked on sweetly, and pumped his fist in the air. 

“I’m gonna pretend I can’t see your shit-eating grin right now,” Dae-ho muttered back, and Nam-gyu nodded firmly and tried to wipe all traces of said shit-eating grin off his face.

“I owe you,” Nam-gyu offered.

“You so owe me.”

Now fifteen minutes away from their destination, Nam-gyu clicked his seatbelt happily and set down the godforsaken drink in the cupholder. Dae-ho let out a sigh again and started the car. 

For the sake of his overly awkward boss, Nam-gyu hoped that the amount of sugar in this drink would do less harm than good.

Dae-ho sneaked a glance at the receipt tacked onto the side and asked, “what’d Min-su say his order was, anyway?”

A mood stabilizer , Nam-gyu recalled sarcastically from the text, but adjusted his glasses and read aloud, “...iced latte, less ice, 120% sugar, and a shot of pineapple syrup.”

“ 120% sugar?! ” Dae-ho exclaimed, looking close to snatching the cup out of Nam-gyu’s hands to check for himself if he wasn’t driving. Instead, his eyes just bulged out at the offending coffee order as he ran a hand down his face, resting it on his mouth for a split second. “Oh, man . Even my sisters don’t eat that much sugar combined . How does he even function?” 

“I don’t think he does,” Nam-gyu hummed to himself, setting the drink down again. “He’s so… I dunno. Not what you’d expect from his EP,” Nam-gyu commented.

Dae-ho raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to the road. “Of course you’d know that.”

“Shut up,” Nam-gyu snapped, ignoring the way his face flushed.

Five minutes away from the destination, Dae-ho said out of nowhere, “I wonder what Se-mi’s up to.”

Nam-gyu’s eyebrows knit together as he pondered. “Still in bed, or at a pharmacy now for food poisoning. She was still drinking that soda when we left the house, remember?”

Dae-ho’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Shit, right. I don’t know how she does that.”

Nam-gyu hummed in agreement. A beat of silence passed.

“Dibs on not paying for her treatment!”

“ Fuck ,” Dae-ho groaned, face contorting more .

Nam-gyu clapped his hands together as he laughed.

Just about near the building at this point, Nam-gyu pulled out his phone to re-examine the building layout that Su-bong’s overly-insistent manager reminded him of. Nam-gyu squinted at it before tapping Dae-ho and saying, “you can just drop me off here.”

Dae-ho nodded and pulled up next to the curb where Nam-gyu hopped out, bidding him adieu happily. “ See you !”

“You forgot his drink!” Dae-ho shouted, rolling down the window. Nam-gyu cursed and hopped back to the car to maneuver it out the window, trying to avoid as little spillage as possible.

“Don’t get kidnapped,” Dae-ho called after him as Nam-gyu’s car pulled away to a separate parking lot where Dae-ho’s respective building was. Nam-gyu rolled his eyes— damn, Dae-ho still had his keys — and smoothed over his hair behind his ears before heading inside the building with the coffee. 

Nam-gyu was halfway crammed in an elevator full of other executives, attempting to look like he belonged there, when his phone started ringing. Nam-gyu moved the drink to his other hand and held the phone up to his ear. “Yes?”

“Are you in the building safe?” Dae-ho’s voice came through, and Nam-gyu bit his lip to suppress a groan.

Su-bong was sitting at his office, tapping his pen against his desk as he glanced out the window, searching for any signs of a very gorgeous assistant. It seemed as if his wishes immediately came true as Nam-gyu suddenly burst through the door in front of him, startling Su-bong.

“Yes, yes , I’m safe,” Nam-gyu shot into his phone as he wrangled it out of where it was jammed between his ear and his shoulder, and even the aggressive way Nam-gyu was speaking right now could make a man swoon. Su-bong nearly did. Nam-gyu bit a sigh back and said into the phone, “yes, Dae-ho, I’m literally in his office right now–”

Su-bong frowned. Dae-ho?

“I’m going to call you back,” Nam-gyu muttered into his phone over the other man — Dae-ho — and muttered something under his breath before thumbing the End Call button. He shoved his phone in his pocket, looking frazzled, before turning to Su-bong and smoothing over his expression. 

“A friend of yours?” Su-bong couldn’t help but ask in a way that he hoped was casual.

Nam-gyu nodded slowly, taken aback. “He wanted to make sure I reached your office safely,” he muttered, something like irritation— and fondness— seeping into his tone. This might’ve been the first time in the past 48 hours Su-bong had heard his assistant speak with something other than his polished, aloof tone. 

Before Su-bong could begin to address it, Nam-gyu returned to his original persona and bowed deeply. “I apologize for being late, sir. My driver was…” He chewed his lip, seeming to think about his next work. “Running late.”

Su-bong tried not to linger on how pretty his pink mouth looked, especially when his teeth came down to briefly take it in and release it. Instead, his mind immediately ran rampant trying to conjure up a response. “Oh, uh…”

Offer to drive him instead! His mind practically shrieked at him, yet Su-bong managed out weakly, “it’s fine. And, uh, no need to call me sir.”

Nam-gyu blinked as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. He tucked a strand of hair back behind his ears, and cleared his throat. “Right. I apologize, Su-bong. In any case, I hope this makes up for it.” He placed a plastic cup of coffee in front of him, and Su-bong immediately sprung forward, checking the receipt at the side for his order.

It was his exact coffee order every other day, down to a fault. Su-bong glanced up at his assistant in front of him, who was pressing his lips together tightly and tucking his hair back. “How did you know my order?” Su-bong asked dumbly, mouth slightly ajar.

Nam-gyu fumbled a bit, twisting some silver rings on his hands before realizing they were still on, and quietly removed them and slipped them in his back pocket. It wasn’t as if Su-bong was complaining. The tendons and veins on Nam-gyu’s slender hands flexed wonderfully when he fidgeted, and the cool silver metal looked so attractive on his fingers. It seemed like the perfect match to his glasses— it really was a shame Nam-gyu slipped them off, when Su-bong could’ve watched him fidget with the jewelry all day, if not for— fuck, he was speaking .

“...mutual friend of ours messaged me,” Nam-gyu finished simply, and clasped his (ringless) hands together. 

Su-bong paused, blinking. Mutual friend? They had one? Su-bong meant for that question to come out of his mouth, but only managed a, “I, uh, I’m sorry?”

He tried, okay? Cut him some slack.

“Well, ah, I mean…” Nam-gyu twisted his fingers for a moment before realizing they weren’t adorned with silver, and settled for tucking his hair back again. “Is Min-su not a friend of yours?”

Min-su . Su-bong’s face suddenly felt like it was on fire. Min-su reached out to Nam-gyu personally to give him Su-bong’s coffee order? “... That fucking son of a bitch ,” Su-bong found himself muttering. 

… Wait. They were both friends with Min-su?

Nam-gyu snorted before bowing again to Su-bong, and the sight of his pink lips slightly upturning made Su-bong forget about the matter altogether. “I apologize again for being late. It won’t be a usual occurrence, I promise you.”

Su-bong nodded bemusedly, which Nam-gyu seemed to accept as he opened his tablet and began listing Su-bong’s daily routine.

“Mm, for the rest of the week, you mainly only have studio sessions booked,” Nam-gyu hummed, tucking his hair back again. “You can take it easier, but get started on the single first. That should be your priority right now.” Nam-gyu’s eyes flickered up to Su-bong for a second, tilting his head just the slightest degree. Something unreadable flickered across his face as his eyes flitted back to the screen. “Try to make some progress today. I’ll be scheduling you a hair touch-up appointment.”

Su-bong nodded, barely realizing the position he was imitating right now. His chin was propped on his palm, staring intently at his assistant as he talked, and only just began to register the words. “I underst — wait, touch up? What’s wrong with my hair?” Su-bong frowned, albeit rather childishly similar to a pout, as he found himself realizing. He hoped he didn’t leave the impression of a kicked puppy or a toddler on his assistant.

Nam-gyu blinked before lowering his gaze to the tablet again, gesturing with his hands. His really attractive hands, holy fucking shit . “Well, nothing’s wrong with it, but the color’s starting to fade, and having it touched-up would look better for your promotional photoshoots next week.” A few taps. “Is there a specific salon you’d like?”

In all honesty, Su-bong had barely noticed the gradual shift in his once-bright purple hue discoloring almost to a lilac or lavender, much less the roots growing out. For all the time he spent in front of mirrors and cameras, he likely should’ve noticed sooner. But the initial rounds of bleach and toning his original hair had taken were insanely tedious — so much so he almost regretted the decision if not for the results and the influence it had on his public figure, recognition in public, and on the EP. 

Su-bong’s frown dug deeper, shifting his hand once propping up his chin to scratch at his fast, taking a purple strand — now visibly faded — in his fingers and twisting it to examine. “I mean, I guess … I’ve done it myself, though.” Seeing the opportunity to boast, he quickly added, “I’m good with my hands.”

Don’t think about Nam-gyu’s hands. Don’t think about them with rings, twisting prettily and hit perfectly by the glow and the way his veins and tendons flex on his fingers, much less the tattoo you saw on his forearm when he came into work just the day before — Su-bong’s train of thought started, and dutifully kept his gaze angled away from said assistant’s arms in a way he hoped was subtle. He set his gaze to drift slightly out the window, clearing his throat to distract from his thoughts and the sudden burning in his face.

A taut silence stretched between them, and Nam-gyu confirmed slowly, “Are you sure you don’t want me to book an appointment for you?”

God, Su-bong wasn’t sure he wouldn’t want Nam-gyu to do anything for him if he spoke in that voice. Perfectly smooth, a low rumble that found itself twisting Su-bong’s stomach—

Su-bong kept his face towards the window, nodding stiffly. “Yeah.” A sudden idea flickered to existence in his head, spinning around back to face the other man. The gorgeous man he was utterly head over heels for. The man with beautifully dewy skin and possessed all the qualities Su-bong found himself obsessively attracted towards. The man he could maybe, just maybe, spend time with more.

“Unless… you want to do it for me?”

Nam-gyu’s gaze slowly flitted across Su-bong’s face again, blinking confusedly. A minute difference, but the slight widening of his eyes altered Su-bong’s perception of him wildly from the aloof (and snappy, to Dae-ho ) persona he usually had. He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t have experience with dyeing hair, Su-bong.”

“But you could try it!” Su-bong insisted. 

“I’m pretty certain I can’t.”

“You don’t even have to be good at it.”

“I think the media would disagree.”

“Okay, but stilll, ” Su-bong practically whined, before trying to reel his desperation in. Fuck, play it cool, Su-bong. “It gets so boring having to wait for that long by myself. The hairstylists never have anything interesting to say, it’s almost all about my work.”

Nam-gyu looked very much as if he didn’t want to partake in this discussion. “...And?”

“So you should dye my hair instead! It doesn’t really matter if the dye job doesn’t look good, you know?” Su-bong confidently proclaimed. Maybe a little flirtation could win him over? If only for the appointment, and not long-term, but eh, Subong’ll get to it. “All you have to do is just say a few words every minute or so, sit still, and look pretty! You practically do that already.”

A deep exhale was heard from the other side of the desk, and a muscle in Nam-gyu’s job flexed. With a clipped tone, he questioned, “How was your songwriting session yesterday, Su-bong?”

“Hm?” The sudden change of topic threw Su-bong off. “Oh, it was… okay.” A smile crept onto his face — was Nam-gyu trying to learn more about him? “Why, liked watching me work my magic?”

Su-bong’s aforementioned theory was almost immediately shot down when Nam-gyu let out a snort. “I’m not sure what you were up to counts as magic .”

Su-bong frowned. “What makes you say that, Nam-su?”

It looked painful, how Nam-gyu clenched his jaw tighter and could barely hold back a glare with his furrowed brows and sharp eyes. He all but snapped, “Rewriting a verse half a dozen times doesn’t classify as making progress on your single, much less magic.”

To say that Su-bong was taken aback wouldn’t do his reaction justice. He straightened slightly immediately, eyes widening and something in the back of his mind going, oh , because he imagined this was the type of treatment that Dae-ho guy got daily if Nam-gyu was normally that aggressive over the phone, impatient and cutting. It was a stark contrast to his normally polished manner, the epitome of something similar to a robot, words clipped and curt tone, darting straight to business points and trimming the rest, if only put to rest every once in a while to ask Su-bong for confirmations or changes. 

This version of Nam-gyu was… well, different. Extremely. An underlying anger barely concealed under his words, if only slightly because of the veil of professionalism gradually thinning with each pinprick closer to an anger Su-bong was sure gradually wore out of him in moderate quantities in the day. He wondered if Nam-gyu was normally this angry, and if his passive aggression was taking on a more active role with each following second he passed in Su-bong’s company. Maybe it was the inability to be as active in his aggression that slowly, but surely, began to unspool out of him. And it was only the second day. 

Somehow, strangely, Su-bong couldn’t say he minded. 

It wasn’t as if he had a thing for Nam-gyu’s gradual anger… at least, he was pretty sure. He found it fascinating, the facade Nam-gyu had all but maintained up until now, even as it thinned occasionally. Had Nam-gyu not been pettily squabbling with that Dae-ho over the phone, Su-bong likely wouldn’t have been able to imagine Nam-gyu’s life beyond the profession, let alone this suddenly, and let alone, so differently. While the professionalism seemed like a veil, a mask, this side of him slipped on easily like a coat — natural. 

Su-bong found himself stunned into silence as he looked up at his assistant, somehow more drawn in by his character, and seamlessly more infatuated by the second. He wouldn’t be all that surprise if he were practically looking at the other wide-eyed, close to glowing.

Nam-gyu’s expression faltered, whether with guilt or certainty, it was surely undiscernable. He sighed, lifting his hand to his face and rubbing one of his eyes underneath the glasses, gaze still set on Su-bong’s. “Get a rough draft of your lyrics done today and I’ll… accompany you while you dye your hair. How about that?”

Wait. Wait. “Wait,” Su-bong blurted out, practically snapping to attention. He would get to spend time with Nam-gyu? “What the fuck—are you serious, dude?” A rush of excitement was beginning to course through his veins.

Nam-gyu’s eyebrows lifted, fighting back his mouth from twitching, so it seemed. “Yes, I’m serious. Is that manageable?” He asked gently, and the patronizing tone he took on could’ve been less obvious even to a toddler. But it only intrigued Su-bong more.

Su-bong’s eyes could’ve been the size of saucers at this rate. “You’ll actually do that for me?”

Nam-gyu’s demeanor shifted faintly as he tucked his hair back, losing his condescending tone for a second. “I’m not doing it for you , Su-bong. There’s a lot riding on you and your single.”

Su-bong let out a sound of disbelief. “Well, aren't you considerate,” he breathed out, meaning for it to come out as sarcastic, but only seemed to be in awe.

A tsk sound came from Nam-gyu’s mouth. “Rough draft by the end of today. Can you do it or not?” He asked flatly.

Su-bong nodded, scoffing faintly, attempting to play it off as the high-strung, confident rapper he was due to embody. “Of course Thanos can handle that. Can you handle being in the presence of a famous rapper?” He challenged, letting a smile seep into his words.

Nam-gyu stared at him, unimpressed. “Soon-to-be famous, you mean.”

He waved the thought aside. “Same difference, Nam-su.”

“ Nam-gyu .” Clicking his tongue against his teeth once more, he huffed again and said, “If that’s all, I’ll just visit you once you’re done in the studio. I’m not the only one expecting progress.”

“Ah, the label, right?” Su-bong remarked, nodding innocently. But maybe now was the time to try and win him over. “Got you, got you… but you could just say you’re looking out for my best interest, aren’t you?” He slipped a wink in at the end and raised his brows.

“By ensuring you don’t fall flat on your face after your EP release?” Nam-gyu let out a wry laugh and came to adjust his hair again. “Your label and manager are looking out for you, Su-bong. I’m just trying to move you along.”

Su-bong waved it aside, tutting. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say…” He mumbled slightly dejectedly as he lifted the coffee to his lips, the familiarity of the notes and flavors immediately uplifting him once more, sighing happily. “It’s fine, though.” Su-bong set the latte down and leaned back, folding his arms assuredly. “I’ll pretend you’re not over the moon to be in the same room as me. I can’t help it, you know. It’s just my natural presence.”

A disbelieving sound came out of his assistant. Drily, Nam-gyu muttered, “If pretending you come across fans all the time is what gets you in and out of the office every day, then sure, Su-bong. I’m head over heels. ”

Sarcasm or not, Su-bong still felt a small victory course through his veins at being able to witness the more irritable side of Nam-gyu. Amusedly, he noted, “Anything for the label, huh?”

Something vaguely sounding like more like anything for that paycheck was uttered under Nam-gyu’s breath as his eyes bored holes into his tablet, tapping harshly on the screen. Glancing up, his eyes darted to Su-bong’s hair again. “Aish, Su-bong. When did you last get it dyed?”

Su-bong was almost elated at the first-name basis of their conversation if not for the very distinct memory of him telling Nam-gyu to refer to him as such. Still, though — the tone he used? He found himself smiling subconsciously before realizing the question he was asked.

Su-bong shrugged in a manner he hoped was nonchalant, fumbling for the start of words with no finish, awkwardly dancing around himself. “It’s… you know, it just…” He finished lamely before ceding, “...A few months ago.”

The look Nam-gyu met Su-bong with, unblinking, could only be described as blank. “We better hope you get those lyrics soon, huh?”

We. We. We. A stupid grin came to his face again before he wiped it off, registering the words slowly. Su-bong swore quietly under his breath, leaning forward again on his desk. “I hoped you’d’ve forgotten that by now.” Seeing the glare his assistant met him with, he held his hands up defensively and said, “I mean, yes, Nam-su. Thank you so much for keeping me on my best behavior for the company. And then you’ll help me dye my hair?” He finished eagerly. We. He said we. He just referred to us as a collective whole. This had to be good, right? 

If Su-bong were standing up right now, he would be bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Nam-gyu looked close to rolling his eyes. “ Accompany . But, yes, I will.”

Su-bong couldn’t help the grin that slowly spread across his face, smiling like a dope. “Sweet. I think my hair still looks pretty good right now, no?”

A pained sigh came out of Nam-gyu’s throat. “Until then, Su-bong,” he gritted out, sounding like he wished the time until then was significantly longer, but it did little to dampen Su-bong’s good mood. Su-bong was totally on his good side if he could act this way around him. This counted as some form of flirting, right? “Get your manager to call me if you need anything.”

Call. Su-bong immediately snapped to attention, tapping his fingers on the desk for a second. Get it together. Just ask. “What if I just call you instead?” Su-bong blurted out. “Can I get—”

“Studio wants you there in fifteen. Does that sound good to you?” Nam-gyu interrupted, still glaring at his tablet as an update pinged.

Su-bong stared owlishly, mouth still opening and closing. “Uh — yes, but—”

“I’ll book an appointment with a salon after you complete the rough draft.” Nam-gyu’s face was stoic as his fingers flitted across the screen. “They should have a spot available, even on short notice.”

“I — hang on, a salon, really?” Su-bong complained, expression falling into a frown.

“They’ll ensure the dye lasts longer and most likely tell you how to care for it after the coloring. You should touch up every 4-6 weeks after, to be safe.”

Su-bong huffed. “Okay, fine, but—”

Nam-gyu’s gaze flicked back up towards the top of the tablet, checking the time. “Studio wants you in fourteen. Good luck, Su-bong. The offer’s gone if you don’t have that draft by today.”

“WHAT?! Wait, you never told me that!”

Nam-gyu looked at him wryly. “Then I guess you better work hard, huh?”

Su-bong sighed, pinching his nose bridge — damn, was he seriously adapting his manager’s habits? — while wracking the nonexistent options in his mind. After a beat, he pointed accusingly at his assistant and said as sternly as he could, “You better hold up your end of the deal, Nam-su.”

A blank stare. “ Gyu. ”

“Right, Gyu ,” Su-bong found himself muttering on instinct, little awareness of the words leaving his mouth. “...Could I get your num—”

“Have a good session, sir.” Nam-gyu bowed slightly and spared Su-bong a mere glance before stalking out the office door.

Su-bong frowned, adamantly calling out after him, “It’s Su-bong!” He couldn’t even drown in his failure at obtaining the man’s number, because when he lifted the latte to his lips to conceal his dissatisfaction, he almost immediately brightened. “Thank you for the coffee!” He called out, louder.

A small, amused huff was heard beyond the door. Su-bong’s smile widened.

Despite Su-bong’s attempts to nurse the coffee for as long as possible — each time the taste hit his tongue, he was reminded of Nam-gyu’s gesture to retrieve it for him on such short notice — they were all in vain, as he soon realized that the studio wouldn’t allow drinks or food inside. He then begrudgingly took longer sips each time, idly hoping Nam-gyu would become consistently late to work as long as he always repaid it with a coffee. Just the thought of that again brought a smile to Su-bong.

Ultimately, he couldn’t help himself — there was something to Nam-gyu’s qualities that Su-bong found wholeheartedly endearing, despite the near-consistent refusal or clipped tone he found himself met with whenever he attempted to do something that merely skated the lines of flirting.

Truth be told, since Su-bong had realized there was a side to Nam-gyu that wasn’t entirely reminiscent of a stone statue, Su-bong had found himself more and more intrigued to elicit reactions that would trigger that side of him — even if said side was ultimately anger.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Su-bong liked that side. He found it basically synonymous to getting closer with his assistant the few times he had been met with irritation so far. And ultimately, it was that side that promised Su-bong the reward of spending time with Nam-gyu outside of the office.

Su-bong wasn’t a masochist — at least, he was pretty sure for now. But something told him that his suspicions were right — that bringing out that irritation in Nam-gyu would only be for the better. That maybe, this was how Nam-gyu showed that he was warming up to somebody, too.

Su-bong let this optimism follow him all the way into (regrettably) finishing his latte, and skipping happily into the studio. He found it echoing in his prose, too, when the lyrics began to pour out of him like water.

Nam-gyu was pretty sure both his new ‘boss’ and his manager had to be fucking morons if they think Nam-gyu hadn’t heard a single word while they were outside that door.

I mean, honestly. Both of their voices had the potential to be seriously aggravating and grating on his ears, both rising in pitch and volume whenever they counter-argued with one another, easy negotiations forming into death debates. With all that arguing, Nam-gyu almost felt a sliver of pity for Thanos before he seemed to accept his manager’s deal. Almost.

There were a lot of things driving Nam-gyu to keep this position, and one of the major ones was the income. That was, without a doubt, what mainly convinced him to send in his application in the first place. But now that it seemed as if Su-bong and his manager were seemingly teaming up to ensure they got rid of Nam-gyu as fast as possible, the main factor soon became spite.

It couldn’t be less obvious — with every moment of downright flirtation or something thinning the veil of professionalism between him and Su-bong, Nam-gyu took it as incentive to be more stoic, more cold, more distant, if possible. He made sure not to let an inch of his demeanor slip when retrieving Su-bong from the studio for his takeout order during lunch — courtesy of Min-su’s help — and didn’t let himself relax even while eating his own dosirak. The only thing getting in the way of that was how every inch of Su-bong got on Nam-gyu’s nerves.

Maybe he had let his composure slip when he snapped. He wouldn’t let it happen again — more of a promise to himself than the purple-haired monstrosity sitting across the desk from him from time to time. Every little push and pull of Su-bong’s demeanor was a test — to catch Nam-gyu in the midst of something deeming ‘unprofessional’ if it elicited a response greater than a robot’s response, most likely. Had to be. Nam-gyu was damn near sure he would’ve gotten fired for being late if not for the coffee he picked up, he decided.

For whatever reason of Su-bong’s self-proclaimed independence — “ I don’t need an assistant!” — and his manager’s insistence on hating Namgyu — god forbid he doesn’t have an accolade-worthy resume — Nam-gyu twisted them all as motivation. He was going to keep this position longer than Se-mi, be the best assistant humanly possible to Nam-gyu’s limits (because god knew people tested his patience sometimes), and he was going to earn that paycheck — for both himself and Dae-ho.

The hair salon was a test. Nam-gyu would’ve gotten fired for letting Su-bong do his god-awful dye himself, or worse, leave it in the hands of Nam-gyu. The accompaniment was a test — to see if Nam-gyu would let Su-bong slack off and abuse the company’s image. Every little miniscule detail of Su-bong’s character had to be an utter test — from his gestures, his cocky attitude, of referring to himself in third person, the way he carried his tone and feigned awkwardness or even the way his face somehow flushed. He must’ve really wanted Nam-gyu out of here if his face could’ve turned that red from anger, which made it all the more frustrating when something put a pin into all of Nam-gyu’s levels of planning, slitting through the surface of a picture-perfect guise of it being a ‘test’.

Why on earth, Nam-gyu couldn’t answer neither honestly nor accurately, did Su-bong look so damn happy about the coffee?

It wa s pretty late in the afternoon when Nam-gyu untangled himself from the mountain of his workload to head down to the studio. Overall, Manager Kang had been sent after him a solid total of zero times mid-studio session, so Nam-gyu decided to believe there was no intent to have a message relayed to him, thank the fucking stars. As he unwound down the turning hallways to the dimly lit studio, he almost immediately spotted the head of purple chatting amongst several producers.

Almost as if on cue, Su-bong immediately turned around (regrettably) to meet Nam-gyu eye-to-eye. He brightened visibly, entire stature straightening up as he called loudly, “ Nam-su! Look at what I got done!”

Like a toddler showing off a painting , Nam-gyu thought to himself, scorning the resemblance but making no move to correct Su-bong butchering his name. He walked reluctantly to Su-bong’s phone, where the excited man was eagerly shoving a screen full of lyrics separated by section and the occasional highlight in red to touch up certain lines.

Nam-gyu thought about huffing and slapping Su-bong’s hand away, but after much consideration, managed to pry the wretched phone from his hands if only to examine the lyrics closer.

Much to his disappointment, the lyrics were, even in their first-draft-state, by no means, unsatisfactory. They were quite good — keeping a steady cadence in each line flowing with every creative rhyme, drafting up imagery from bars to minivans and to stages so bright Nam-gyu could picture the audience. Each line carried the meaning of something deeper than ego, of a sense of showing-off that felt empty when compared to the following tales of longing. Nam-gyu could easily imagine how — or, though he wouldn’t admit it, was excited to see — the production team executed an accompaniment to these lyrics.

Nam-gyu very much wanted to examine these lyrics further — run them through, pick out not imperfections, but how these tied into further imagery and symbolisms in his previous EP. Nam-gyu was watching the making of a superstar in the process. Though he wouldn’t admit this either, he felt a small spike of adrenaline and something unreadable course through his veins — the excitement — of really being the first person to witness the creation of these lyrics, before they were refined through production copies and media filters of presentable, raw, real, marketable. Even at this stage, it was wildly impressive, and it almost… satisfied Nam-gyu, knowing he was the only one seeing the very first draft right now.

Rough draft. Rough draft. Nam-gyu tried to snap himself out of his stupefied daze and handed the phone back to Thanos — Su-bong — with a resounding nod. “That…” He bit his lip in an attempt to stop himself from floundering for words. He clicked his jaw shut and managed to force out a grudging, but ultimately sincere, “I’m impressed, Su-bong. It'll do well.”

Su-bong’s grin looked so stretched wide it could’ve cracked the world. “You think so?” He asked hopefully, and once again reminded Nam-gyu of his childlike excitement.

Nam-gyu let out a breath and ducked his head, letting a small smile form. “Yes. I’m certain.” He almost found himself uttering the words good job , but stopped himself. 

Su-bong rocked back and forth on his heels, fumbling as he started with a cough, “so, uh… you’ll still hold up your end of the deal, right?”

… The deal. Right. Nam-gyu wanted to facepalm when he nearly forgot the entire reason for Su-bong’s inherent progress — his apparent need to require someone, or some form of entertainment, by his side, present while getting his hair done. Nam-gyu snapped back into business, and nodded, fingers clumsily tucking his hair back. “Yes. Your appointment is scheduled for five. You still have some time to kill until then, since we should leave half an hour prior. I’d advise you to use that time either refining your single, or brainstorming the overarching themes of your general album.”

Su-bong, nodded, albeit grudging, looking as if he was close to rolling his eyes. “But, uh…” He looked like he was psyching himself up as his eyes darted just about everywhere except for Nam-gyu, before leaning on a nearby table and saying, “what about spending it with a pretty boy instead?”

Test. Nam-gyu restricted the urge to click his tongue in annoyance, and merely turned back to his tablet, fingers dancing around nonexistent commands of closing and reopening the same e-mail confirmation, and said, “Regrettably, I don’t think you’ll find the time to wander outside of the building prior to your appointment.”

A stammer came from Su-bong’s direction, though Nam-gyu kept his eyes trained on the screen. “Wh—that’s not what—” He pursed his lips and cursed, continuing, “I was talking about you.”

Nam-gyu blinked owlishly. Well, no kidding. “I’m not sure if that idea is sound enough to use as an album theme.”

“ Wh—?! ” Su-bong practically shouted out, groaning loudly and rubbing his face with both of his hands. “No, fuck, that’s not what…” He all of a sudden trailed off, muttering under his breath. Nam-gyu resisted the urge to snicker at his misfortune.

Seemingly regaining his composure, Su-bong suggested, “Wait — you should stay here. It would be counterproductive to head back to your office to only return after a bit, right?” He rushed out all in one breath, equal parts self-satisfied and desperate, and Nam-gyu found himself amused.

…Maybe giving into one test wouldn’t be the end of the world. God forbid he works in the same presence as the man — what would he blame it on to his manager? How he couldn’t function around his assistant? Yeah, okay.

Nam-gyu tentatively nodded, giving the illusion of hesitance, though his mind was already made up. “I suppose,” he drawled out slowly.

Nam-gyu couldn’t understand just how much one man had to exert to somehow beam every moment of the fucking day. His face brightened like a sunflower turning towards the sun, grinning wildly. “ Sweet! You won’t be a bother. You can just do your work in the corner, and watch a future celebrity work his charm.” He finished that with a wink he probably thought was suave, before turning back to the production crew and eagerly chatting them up all the while flexing his fingers. Nam-gyu suppressed another eye-roll, but found himself suppressing a growing smile on his mouth, becoming oddly fond of the rapper and his odd… mannerisms. 

He screwed up his face. No. That wasn’t right. Probably not fond. It was a sort of sardonic entertainment, witnessing Su-bong try time and time again to be cocky. Yeah, that was it. Witnessing him fail time and time again at these supposed ‘tests’ that he likely thought would knock Nam-gyu right off his feet into some head-over-heels bullshit, into goo goo ga ga talk and blushing, stammering, messes of groupies Su-bong likely performed this act with again and again. 

For some reason, said act probably worked wonders to turn him into the egotistical asshat he was in interviews, to his manager and (likely) producers, and to Nam-gyu a handful of times, whenever he wasn’t acting so damn awkward in front of him, for another reason he couldn’t figure out.

Whatever. It wasn’t like Su-bong’s tendencies were any part of Nam-gyu’s business… until they were. He just had to get the man in (metaphorical) shape for his interviews, play it off enough that Nam-gyu could almost be regarded as a ‘good influence’, and keep this position until he grew tired of Su-bong’s bullshit, grew tired of acting so damn cold, or was knee-deep in money and had the rest of his life covered. The first seemed the most probable option right about now.

Well, that was for the future, and Nam-gyu had a tendency to leave impending problems to his future self rather than resolving them. He’d probably address that someday, likely in the far future, so he found himself a section of the room where he was close to out of earshot of Su-bong’s incessant rambling, settled down with his laptop and tablet, and began to filter through his somehow already-crowded inbox, one stiff reply at a time.

After a couple of minutes, he began to work more breezily, each word flowing more swiftly from his mind to the screen, eyes carefully trained on his actions and somehow filtering out the chaos purely emanating from Su-bong’s side of the studio. In the midst of his progress, his phone began vibrating in his left pocket, and fished it out, mindlessly thumbing the Accept Call without skimming the name. “This is Roh Nam-gyu. What can I help you with?” He drawled out blandly, holding his phone up to his ear with one hand while scrolling on his laptop with the other.

An incredulous scoff over the line. Then, a familiar amused voice: “ Man, you’re really taking this job seriously, huh? ”

Nam-gyu fought back a groan, instead settling for pushing up his glasses, leaning back and immediately relaxing his stiff position. “Dae-ho, what do you want?” He all but bit out, though his tone was noticeably softer.

He could almost hear the dog-like pout over the line. “ I never believed them when they said money could change a person until now. ”

Maybe the stoic facade was getting to him. For the first time on the job in two days — which, not that long, but he doesn’t normally go 48 hours (give or take a few) acting like a damn robot, give him a break — he let himself let out a brief snort, this time of genuine laughter, not disdain or wry amusement. Maybe more than a snort. A full-fledged chuckle. God, the 48 hours were getting to him. “You know I’ve always been like this, work or not. What the f—” Nam-gyu cut himself off, eyes shooting to the direction of the producers for a second, and closed his eyes and corrected, “Again, Dae-ho, what do you want?”

A laugh over the line. Nam-gyu couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was staring straight at his head, and resisted the urge to turn around to check. “ Okay, okay, calm down. They’re letting me off pretty early today. ” Nam-gyu checked the time on his laptop — 4:21 — before closing it and setting it beside him, beginning to lean back fully now, one of his hands holding the back of his head. “ I just wanted to update you. Se-mi’s getting some food with Min-su later, so it’s just gonna be us tonight. Want me to pick up any food for you before we head back? ”

Nam-gyu awkwardly itched the back of his neck, coming back to adjust his glasses and shifting in his seat. He would normally whistle and happily exclaim at the gesture, or call Dae-ho a godsend over and over, had this been the days where his shift at KFC sometimes caused him to skip his lunch break. However, nothing about this situation was normal. Him being at this building, much less, him working for Thanos.

“About that,” Nam-gyu began, and tried to fight off a grimace. “Man, you interns are fucking lucky,” he couldn’t help but groan out, throwing his head back. The fan hit his neck wonderfully as he shuddered, not even caring about the swearing at this point. He’d just have to apologize for it later, and right now, cross his fingers and hope no one was in earshot to hear his complaints. “ Shit , man. I won't get off until…” He lifted his head up for a moment, shuffling back into a normal sitting position, leaning his arms on his knees. “Say, man, how long does a professional hair dye take?”

A muffled conversation. “ Anywhere between two to six hours, apparently, ” Dae-ho reported back. “ Se-mi also says hi. ”

Nam-gyu would’ve normally greeted Se-mi back — emphasis on normally — if not for the number. “ Two to—?! ” He practically exploded, before seeing a flurry of heads turn in his direction out of his periphery. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and whisper-yelled into the phone, “ two to six fucking hours?! Fuck do they need all that time for?! What, do they just lather their heads in that shit and spend the rest of the time twiddling their thumbs?”

A muffled laugh from the other side. Another muted conversation. Dae-ho happily continued, “ If this is about Thanos, Se-mi said his hair looks like it’s already been through multiple rounds of bleach and toning the first time around, so just getting a root touch-up or whatever shouldn’t take too long. ”

“Two long, my ass,” Nam-gyu still grumbled indignantly. “That’s still two to six hours out of my day!”

Dae-ho’s wince was practically audible. “ Yeah, I love you man, but I’m not waiting in this parking lot till eleven. ”

“So much for the love,” Nam-gyu accused, but nonetheless relented. “It’s whatever, dude. Can you at least drive me back with some food whenever I’m back?”

Some shuffling. “ I mean, yeah, but if you’re hungry, can’t you just order takeout right now? ”

Nam-gyu huffed. “I can’t eat in the studio, and I really don’t wanna put you on speaker to navigate all the way to my DoorDash right now.”

“ Shit, you’re calling me in the studio? There goes that paycheck. ”

“You better thank your god I’m only calling you,” Nam-gyu retorted. “I’m gonna strangle you for saying that shit.”

A loud burst of laughter. “ Like hell you would’ve, man, ” Dae-ho practically cackled.

Nam-gyu flopped his head back on the back of his chair, tucking his hair back. “Shut up,” he retaliated, for lack of a better response. “You’re still gonna pick me up though, right?”

Dae-ho huffed, but Nam-gyu could tell he was smiling. “ You know I will, ” He still said, though, as if he was dreading the idea.

Nam-gyu snickered, and said, “You’re lucky I’m only taking that because you’re buying me food.”

A very elongated sigh. “ Shouldn’t’ve expected nothing less, ” Dae-ho muttered out. A beat. Then: “ Damn, though, you got it rough over there. Having to sit in on a hair appointment on your second day? ”

A groan came very close to leaving Nam-gyu’s mouth. “Tell me about it, man…” He grumbled, stretching instead, fingers brushing against the cool case of his laptop for a moment, and began to sit upright. “Shit, I just remembered I have work to do. Tell you the rest later,” he mumbled into the phone.

“ Oh, yeah, no worries. You can call me during the salon, maybe? ”

Nam-gyu scratched the back of his head again. “Uh, I don’t think I can. It’s… yeah, I’ll tell you later. And I’ll pay you back for dinner,” he added generously. See, he could be a good roommate.

Dae-ho, ever too-kind, answered happily, “ Nah, no need. I got it covered. ”

Nam-gyu stopped himself from protesting, though the guilt quietly ate at his gut. “Thanks,” he settled for instead, and hoped his earnest delivery made up for it.

Dae-ho laughed. “ Yeah, you’re thankful now, but always in a bad mood when you come home. ”

“No I’m not, the fuck? ”

More laughter. “ See? ”

Nam-gyu exhaled loudly. “Yeah, okay, man. See you. I’ll text you my order.”

“ Cool! ” Dae-ho all but beamed over the line. “ See you! ”

Nam-gyu pressed the End Call button with conviction, attempting to convince himself that hammering away at his keys would only make the taste of whatever he was going to order — likely tteokbokki — that much more delicious. Fuck, and now he was thinking about hunger. He opened his laptop hard, trying to convince himself that yeah, maybe he was getting fired the next day for swearing an incoherent amount of times in a public and professional setting, and yeah, that paycheck was never seeing the light of day, much less depositing itself into Nam-gyu’s pockets. But he had a free ride and tteokbokki waiting for him when he got home, and that was good enough. Which made it all the more confusing when Thanos didn’t immediately stomp over to Nam-gyu and call him out for his lack of decorum, chew him out some more, report him to his manager, and have him ushered out of the building before the sun even set.

He couldn’t hear anything, much less see the rapper thundering over to him from his periphery. Was he being let off? Nam-gyu, curious, let his gaze drift towards the producers still talking to Thanos, though the rapper’s eyes were firmly set on Nam-gyu, with something unreadable in his stare. Not flat-out anger, Nam-gyu was able to deduce. So what the fuck was that?

When Nam-gyu met Su-bong’s gaze, his eyes immediately darted back to the production staff, likely to catch up on whatever he had missed while he was staring at Nam-gyu for god knows how long. Maybe the whole phone call? He was probably still in deep shit. 

Nam-gyu had a pretty distinct ability to discern who someone was from his first impression of them. Sometimes, it was a hindrance, especially when he misjudged their character and sometimes snapped at them a little too loudly through the drive-through, but most of the time, he was right. And even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t something he could easily grow out of doing — but he tried to, for this job. 

Because Su-bong struck Nam-gyu as an utter moron the moment he was within earshot of his grating voice, and even more so when he was in the same room as him. But that couldn’t be it. There was something underneath it, like the facade Nam-gyu himself was putting on, right? What otherwise could those tests have been? He practically had concrete proof.

The only situations really in the way of Nam-gyu’s judgement — skewed at first, because Su-bong must be waiting for Nam-gyu to fuck up badly enough to get him out of his life and the building — were, for one, just how giddy Su-bong looked at the sight of Nam-gyu handing him his precise coffee order, down to every disgusting miligram of sugar injected in that godforsaken concoction.

And this was just another blip to add to the list. This wasn’t going to be a consistent thing. Just brief things Nam-gyu would be shortly surprised at, but eventually recover when he could wrap his mind around how this fell into Su-bong’s plan.

But no amount of convincing, Nam-gyu thought, would erase the fact that when their gazes met after Nam-gyu’s phone call, Su-bong’s face carried the smallest amount of sadness.

… What the fuck was that for?