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New York City, New York
New York mornings are, like everyone knows, a fucking bitch.
It’s not like Doyoung was ever particularly fond of Seoul, of all places, but maybe he did miss that other forsaken city whenever he spent more than an hour stuck in traffic with only the terrible pop music radio station to make him company. He’s not a car person, he’s never been one. There was no need for him to get a car back in Seoul, never a need back in San Francisco. Definitely not a need here in overcrowded, wretched New York. But, after all, he is Kim Doyoung, CEO of SM & Co., and he has a reputation to maintain as a rich, probably full-of-himself man that buys a ‘20 Jaguar XE just for the sake of it.
But what good is his stupidly expensive car if the New York metro could’ve taken him to HQs in half the time, with spare change and a pair of working legs.
It is after thirty more excruciating minutes of driving - or, really, moving an inch every five minutes - that Doyoung finds himself in front of a fancy schmancy skyscraper. He sighs once, regretting all past choices in life that put him in this particular moment in life. Doyoung gets out of the car, instantly greeted by a valet who smiles at him with a pristine smile most likely fueled by fear. He almost pats the man on the back in silent sympathy. It’s not like he wants to be here either.
All that, however, is masked under the biggest, most dashing smile Doyoung can muster as soon as he walks through the sleek automatic doors.
“Good Morning, Mr. Kim,” the blonde receptionist says in polite tone, he’s been here enough times for her to recognize him by now.
He goes up the elevator, all the way up to the highest floor in the building, thirty-two floors are no joke.
“Good morning,” he smiles kindly at the woman right outside the office, "I’m here to see President Heechul.”
“Of course,” the pretty secretary replies. It’s full of beautiful women in here, Doyoung thinks, nice eye candy for the businessman that enjoy them. Doyoung isn’t one of them. “Right this way, Mr. Kim.”
He walks full of purpose into the expensive office, plush and spacious, just lavish enough for an eccentric company president like Heechul Kim. Doyoung doesn’t and will never understand such trivial expenses, he, however, does understand that in a world like theirs, appearances are everything and Heechul plays the game very well.
“Doyoung!” A high pitched voice resonates throughout the room making Doyoung’s whole body shudder. Next to him, a shorter man with stark hair smiles at him, mouth curling into a devilish grin. He looks youthful, eyes sparkling against the light’s reflection in mirth, skin smooth in ways only an expensive cosmetologist could achieve. His hair is glossy and tied up, and if it weren’t for the designer silk shirt he’s wearing, Doyoung wouldn’t deem this man fit to be the face of an entire multi-millionaire company. “How are you? You look wonderful today. Is that suit Burberry? Or Ermenegildo? Pardon me, I’ve lost my touch and I haven’t kept up with this season’s trends.”
Doyoung looks down at his suit. He has no fucking clue, he didn’t think knowing the brand of his clothes was important. He stretches his arm, examining the blue fabric, all tailored to his exact measurements. “Yes.”
Heechul looks up, his hands don’t stop pouring the amber liquid into crystal glasses with practiced ease. “What?”
“The suit. It’s the first brand you mentioned.”
“Burberry. A man of simplicity, Doyoung Kim. Nonetheless elegance pours out of you in strides. Trust me, I know a refined man when I see one.” Heechul nods in approval, “Scotch?”
Doyoung smiles and takes the drink with no hesitation, downing the warm, burning liquid in one swift gulp. It’s horrible, absolutely atrocious, but none of that shows in his face, Doyoung the picture perfect of a gentleman.
“Now Heechul,” he starts, foregoing the Mr. Kim he once used months ago when they first met back in September. “I believe we have something to talk about.”
“Of course, but first,” Heechul sits down in one of the leather couches faraway from his desk, drink still in hand. “I must tell you, I visited the Bahamas like you recommended me last time. Let me tell you, Doyoung, best vacations I’ve had in awhile. Mind you, I only stayed in the private resort, but still. Wonderful place.”
Doyoung smiles tightly but takes a seat, pretending to listen intently at whatever it is Heechul is saying. He’s so, so close to this deal, he’s been waiting for it for months now, a few more minutes - or hours, if that’s what it takes - should be nothing to Doyoung. Heechul spews words and words and Doyoung nods his head and smiles and laughs in all the right places, buttering Heechul up like only he knows how. He even pours more scotch into his glass, doing the same for the other man, who only grins at the sight of more alcohol.
“Now, I don’t know if there are actual sharks in the area, but Siwon managed to find us a whole tank full of them. Very impressive, I’d never seen one so up close. White sharks, they’re beautiful creatures, I think I might even get one for myself. What do you think? They shouldn’t be that expensive, right?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to afford it.” He arches an eyebrow, “Are they even legal in Manhattan?”
“Who knows?” Heechul shrugs, “But you know me, that never stopped me. I’m a man of ambition.”
“Certainly. Which is why I must ask you,” he backs into the couch. It's not every comfortable, not in the very least, but it looks good, it looks costly and elegant and he supposes that's all that really matters. “About the dealers back in Las Vegas, have you talked to them? About our - potential partnership?”
Heechul stares blankly at Doyoung for a few seconds before taking the last sip from his glass. He swallows slowly, then uses an obnoxious silk handkerchief that he produces from his left pocket and wipes at his lips. He clears his throat, “I know what you’re trying to do, Doyoung.”
“Excuse me?” The hold on his glass tightens.
“It’s always business with you,” Heechul sighs. “Which is admirable, I guess. At least I know you’re serious about this. However, I’m afraid we can’t start negotiating anything right now.”
“And why is that?” Heechul has at least one thing right about him: Doyoung means serious business, above all.
“We have another guest, and, as you can see, he hasn’t arrived yet.”
Doyoung feels as if his glass might break into a million pieces. His face remains stoic, but he makes sure Heechul sees the hard look in his eyes as he says, “This is the first time I hear about this guest. What is the meaning of this?”
“Don’t be alarmed,” Heechul says, baring his teeth with a smile, “We’re all friends here.”
But Doyoung is alarmed. He has everything absolutely planned, any intereference might fuck up the whole thing. Especially an unknown guest. Who knows what Heechul is even trying to do here? The guy might seem defenseless, but Doyoung knows better. That demon didn’t climb to the top by being kind and fair.
“Who’s the guest?” he asks, trying to keep his voice low.
“Well, I believe he’s been waiting for the past five minutes outside of my office. Rude of me to ignore him for so long but our conversations are just lovely, don’t you think?” He stands up and strides towards his sleek, mahogany desk, where his phone is. “Darling, please let him come in now. Thank you.”
And it is not more than a few seconds later that the doors open with a grand pizzazz that makes Doyoung tremble. He knows who it is before he turns around, before he hears his booming voice.
“Heechul Kim!” he says in ear-splitting madness, Doyoung recoils. The man’s grin is giant, his arms open as he walks towards Heechul, enveloping the other in a hug, Heechul looks ecstatic.
“Beautiful as ever, I see,” Heechul says after disentangling himself from the hug, he looks at the newcomer up and down. “Valentino, I believe?”
“Don't expect anything less. Valentino from head to toe, from the 2020 collection.” The new man turns to Doyoung and the expression of surprise is too over-the-top.
Doyoung stands up, whether to punch the man on the face or to greet him, he himself does not know.
“Ah, darling Doyoung, I should introduce you two. Yuta, this is Kim Doyoung, CEO of SM & Co.,” he looks from Doyoung to Yuta. “Doyoung, this is Yuta Nakamoto. From Neo Tech.”
He extends an arm while grinding his teeth. Yuta's touch is warm, Doyoung shudders for a second, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of him. Beautiful features, angelic, even. But Doyoung knows better.
"You two know each other," Heechul states, handing Yuta a glass matching theirs.
They do. "How can you tell?" Doyoung croaks out, trying not to send any more daggers to the red haired man.
Heechul shrugs, "I can tell. Body language and all that. Who do you take me for, Doyoung? Reading people should also be part of our job, don't you think?"
"Of course," Yuta agrees easily, "You don't get to the top by being mediocre."
Heechul throws his head back in laughter, "I like him. So amusing." Yuta follows him and they both sit down opposite Doyoung.
He quiets down. "So, how do you two know each other?"
Doyoung meets Yuta's eyes for a fraction of a second, he sees the other open his mouth first, but Doyoung beats him to it. "The business world is small. Met each other a few years ago while I was starting out.”
"In Japan." Yuta smiles.
"On a business trip."
"While climbing Mount Fuji."
Heechul arches a single eyebrow. "That's a long way from here. But you're right, this circle is small. I'm glad to have met you two."
"And when did you two meet?" Doyoung is quick to ask, eyeing Yuta's reply. "I had no idea you knew each other.”
Yuta flips his wrist dismissively. "At this one charity banquet."
"Two weeks ago, maybe," Heechul continues, "Yuta spilled wine all over me. Said he'd pay for the cleaning. I said it didn't matter, the shirt wasn't that expensive anyway. But we got to talking and I realized he was the CEO of Neo Tech. Wonderful what little accidents can do."
"Oh, you knew of Neo Tech?" Doyoung challenges Yuta, although it is not him who he's looking at.
"Well," Heechul waves him away, "Too many companies to keep track of, especially outside of New York. But I saw him and instantly thought, this man is is trustworthy. So I called him up last week and said Hey, Yuta, would you be interested in this deal I have? Let's meet up next Friday."
"And I said yes, so here we are," Yuta grins, lifting his glass up in toast.
Doyoung hates them both a little bit. It took him months to get Heechul's trust enough to even be considered part of this deal. And here comes Nakamoto Yuta and does it in less than two weeks? Yes, he definitely hates them both.
He knows Yuta though, he knows how good he is with people, how smoothly the words roll off his tongue, a seemingly genuine smile and he has them wrapped around his little finger. Doyoung may have the wits, the will, but he can't help but admire Yuta's innate talent. It's true, both are good at what they do, they just do the job differently.
"Ok, so what's the deal here, then?" Doyoung lets the scotch glass on the table, water dripping from the sides and staining the smooth mahogany. He's not here to play, if that's what Heechul thinks. "Are you here to tell me that you've chosen Yuta's company instead of mine? Throwing me away like a ragdoll after months of hinting at this partnership?"
"Doyoung, so dramatic as always," Yuta changes seats, draping all over Doyoung, "You're not looking at the big picture here."
"See? I like how he thinks. You're going to move up in this world, Yuta."
Doyoung holds in his sigh, "What are you talking about?"
"We can all be partners. Me, you, President Heechul."
The older man clears his throat, "Well, rather than partners, it's more along the lines of you two being subsidiaries to my company. You'll get there eventually, don't worry, but in the meantime, climb the ladder." He pauses, silence filling the room and the whir of information enters Doyoung's brain. Climb the ladder, he wants to spit back at him. He knows nothing of Doyoung. "Or, if you don't like this arrangement, you can always just convince me to take you and not Yuta. You can also just leave, Doyoung, but that would be terribly disappointing.”
"Yes, we don't want that, Doyoung." Yuta grins.
He looks at Yuta once more, there's a flicker of - something. And Doyoung turns to look at Heechul with an annoyed twist of the mouth, probably the most genuine look of the afternoon. "You need to tell us about the deal first. If I'm going into a deal with Nakamoto, I need to know the details."
Heechul opens his mouth but Yuta beats him to it. "Do you really have to be like that? Don't be anal, Kim. I'm sure Heechul will tell us everything once we settle this."
"Yuta is right. Let's all settle this first. Are you in or are you not?"
Doyoung presses his lips, looks at Heechul, then at Yuta. "You're making this too hard, Heechul Kim."
"That’s a yes." It’s not a question. With those words, Doyoung feels hell freeze. He can't explain it, not really, but in that moment, he sees - he feels - a little bit of the Heechul he knows is there, the one who lurks in dark waters, the one who isn't so genuine, more cut-throat, manipulative than what he at first seems.
"It's a yes."
Yuta rests his hand on Doyoung's shoulder for a second too long but he can't complain. The warm touch is welcome.
"Alright then," Heechul claps, standing up from the couch and walking to the desk, leaving the other two to look at his back. He leans on the edge of it, arms crossed and satisfied look on his face. "It's settled then."
"Now," Doyoung says, "Can we please know what this deal of yours entails? Heechul."
The man chuckles, a single strand of hair falls to his cheek. "I think you and I both know what we're doing here."
"I'd like to hear it as well," Yuta adds, finally taking Doyoung's side. "We kind of do need to know what we're getting into."
"Oh, so serious," Heechul says, playing with the fountain pen in his hand, he sighs, "But if you insist." He walks back to them, leather shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor with each slow step.
“They’ll be bringing in the money from Las Vegas,” he starts, his voice octaves lower than before, “Physical cash. We take half of it to my casino. Yuta takes his part to Seattle sometime next week. You take yours to San Francisco, Doyoung.”
“We also have some electronic money but my people will handle that. Cash is what's harder to get rid of, having two different cities makes everything easier. See, Doyoung? A little team-work is the way to go.”
Doyoung resists the urge to look at Yuta, he keeps his voice stable, “Money laundering? Is that what you’re asking us to do?”
Heechul levels his gaze, any trace of a smile is gone, “Isn’t that what we’re all here for?”
Doyoung shrugs, “Just wanted to make sure. You can never be too careful. So... is it?”
He huffs out a laugh with derisive airiness. “Is it what?”
“Money laundering?”
A silent pause. “Of course it is. That’s the business. Now, Doyoung, I’m sure you didn’t have to put up with me for all these months just to back down, did you? I’m sure everyone in this room is fully conscious of what we're dealing here. Serious businessmen, aren't we?" he smiles again but Doyoung doesn't move an inch.
"Right, Yuta?" Heechul asks, turning to the other man seeking compliance. Should be easy, Yuta eats every word Heechul spews, another man of money and corruption. At least that's how Heechul sees him.
Yuta smiles back. This smile, Doyoung knows. A little bit more genuine, a little amused, knowing. A smile that Doyoung - maybe - enjoys.
He stands up, relaxed and unassuming, before clicking his tongue at the man in front of him. Any trace of esteem towards Heechul, gone. "It's ok, I think I'll pass." Yuta looks at Doyoung once, a playful wink before he turns his back towards the door. A yawn. "Take it away, honey."
Heechul is too stunned, visibly confused at Yuta's attitude, to notice Doyoung's slight nod.
"What - What's happening?"
Doyoung stands up, the stuffy uniform making his skin itch. He wants out of it already.
"Heechul Kim, you are under arrest on the charges of money and transaction laundering, embezzlement, fraud, and forgery. You have the right to remain silent and I suggest you fucking do."
Doyoung's badge gleams under the room’s warm light, golden and powerful.
“What are you talking about?” Heechul’s eyes widen, fear written all across his face.
Men like Heechul know no fear, always looking down from up above, always living the adrenaline of money and power. Gods in their own eyes. Doyoung was never much of a believer anyways, and he doesn’t mind reminding people of their humanity once in a while. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Nakamoto?” Heechul yells frantically as Doyoung comes up behind him, a pair of handcuffs in his hands.
Yuta, now at the threshold of the door, grins at him, wiggling his fingers at the CEO. “Agent Nakamoto, actually.” He doesn’t wait to see the look of utter betrayal in Heechul’s face, Yuta leaves as quickly as he came in, leaving Doyoung to deal with all the aftermath, of course.
FBI vans and police cars are all surrounding the building by the time Doyoung takes Heechul into the lobby, hopefully he’ll be gone by the time reporters arrive at the scene. He smiles at the receptionist with a wave, who can only look in horror at her handcuffed boss.
“Doyoung!” A suited man enters the building, soon followed by a team of armed agents. “We’ll take him from here.”
Heechul trembles when the strange men take him from Doyoung’s grasp, he almost feels a little bit bad seeing his retreating figure. He turns to face the newcomer, now standing directly in front of Doyoung. “Deputy Director,” he nods at the shorter man.
“Good job, Doyoung,” Taeil says with a pleasant smile on his face, satisfied. “Can’t believe we have that confession after months of trailing the guy.”
“Mission accomplished,” Doyoung groans, “I can’t believe I’ve been on this since September. I’m going to need a break.”
“Maybe a few weeks,” Taeil hums, “Don’t get comfortable, though. We need our best Senior Special Agent on the field, after all.”
His eyes become slits, “Best, huh?” he says in accusation, “Why the hell was Yuta in there? Was he even supervised? Why did no one tell me? Two weeks! He’d been talking to Kim for two weeks.”
“Doyoung—"
“Where is he?” Doyoung growls, “He slipped away while I was arresting Heechul, the slithery bastard.”
“His flight is today,” Taeil sighs, “He asked to monitor the case, Doyoung. We didn’t know he’d go on the field on his own accord, you know how he is. He was good, though, Heechul never knew a thing.”
Doyoung presses his lips in annoyance, “You spoil him too much, Taeil. One day he’s going to end up fucking everything up and who knows what will happen then.”
“I’m sure you’ll be there to help us figure it out.”
“That’s exhausting.”
Taeil gives him one last smile before patting him on the back, “Your flight’s at five tomorrow morning. See you back at Headquarters, Doyo.” In korean, he finishes, “We’ll go out for drinks on the weekend. Here’s your jacket.”
When Doyoung takes the horribly expensive Burberry suit off, he lets himself breathe. The FBI-emblazoned jacket fits perfectly against his body.
Washington, DC.
Flights always fuck up with Doyoung’s sleep schedule. No matter if they’re two hours, three hours long, Doyoung ends up being a sleep-addled mess.
“Fuck this,” he tries massaging his temples as the taxi drives away, leaving him to drag around his suitcase across the driveway. “I’m going to sleep for a whole week.”
When he opens the door, Doyoung is hit with a smell that he missed terribly: home. It’s strange, how a place he hasn’t visited in months can look so unchanged and familiar. As if he had never left. He puts the keys on the ugly fruit bowl before taking off his shoes, his socked feet padding against the carpeted floor, stretching his back, the noise of his cracking bones echoing throughout the hallway.
“Peek-a-boo,” someone says into his ear, hot breath tickling him. A pair of warm hands slide across his face, covering Doyoung’s sight.
He elbows the person in the stomach. Hard.
“You know I’m trained to do this shit,” Doyoung grunts, holding on to Yuta’s arm in a twisting motion. “You can’t sneak up on me like that.”
“You knew it was me,” Yuta yowls in pain, Doyoung still hasn’t let go of his arm, “You’re not that careless, I saw you side eye me as soon as I came out of the kitchen.”
“What’s your point?” he twists harder. “You deserved that, little saboteur.”
“Ok, ok,” he hisses, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please let go.”
Doyoung tsks but let’s go immediately, only crossing his arms and watching as Yuta rubs his arm like a wounded cat. Yuta only looks at him once before looking down at his arm with a pout.
Doyoung sighs. “You look good with red hair.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, seemingly forgetting about his sore arm. “I think so too, might leave it like this for a while.” He does look handsome, his hair has grown so long since the last time Doyoung saw Yuta, it’s a good look. His smooth hair contrasts well against the pink sweater he’s wearing and even though it’s the same sharp features back in Heechul Kim’s office, Yuta looks soft, like home. Like the Yuta whom Doyoung loves.
He walks up to him until their faces are mere inches from each other. Yuta’s mouth twists, “I am sorry, by the way. I know you don’t like other people messing with your missions. It was a good opportunity though.”
“How did you manage to get Heechul to trust you so fast?” Doyoung grumbles, the soft material of Yuta’s sweater nice in between his fingers.
Yuta shrugs, “I’m a people charmer.”
Doyoung rolls his eyes. “I guess the good cop, bad cop worked this time, I’ll give you that.”
“Please, we make a great team,” Yuta smiles and his nose scrunches up and that’s all Doyoung can take before he swoops in with a kiss. The kiss is hard, at least at first, because how dare this man-child try and ruin Doyoung’s job. He’s too volatile, too wild for something as meticulous as an undercover job, but everyone coddles him and applauds him for it. What if one he messes up and it costs him his life?
Doyoung frowns, deepening the kiss. No, right now, Yuta is here with him.
“I missed you, by the way,” Yuta says into the kiss, “It’s been months.”
It’s true, they hadn’t seen each other before Yuta barged into Heechul’s office yesterday afternoon. It had taken all of Doyoung’s undercover training to not give himself away. Sometimes he wishes both of them could have an easier job, something that didn’t require them to leave so often, sometimes for months at a time. But Yuta loves what he does and honestly, Doyoung does too.
He enjoys the feeling of Yuta’s soft lips in between his for one last time before moving away, instantly missing the tingling feeling. He holds onto Yuta’s hand for a few seconds, relishing on the touch, rubbing the silver band on his hand.
“C’mon, let’s make dinner,” he clears his throat, dragging his husband back into the kitchen.
“Can’t we order take-out?” Yuta grins.
“Is that all you’ve been eating?”
“No, of course not! Sometimes I make my own sandwiches.”
Doyoung sighs before going on and on about the importance of a healthy meal; he shouldn't be scolding a thirty year old man like this. It comes with a charm, he supposes.
Doyoung, 29, aquarius, FBI agent. Tragically in love with Yuta Nakamoto, who can never mind his own damn business.
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