Chapter Text
When Johnny enters the conference room in the Seoul headquarters, the last thing he expects is to see Moon Taeil sitting there, a tall glass by his side and scanning over an open file.
“Hyung?” Johnny calls, and drops immediately into a bow when Taeil lifts his head. “Pardon the interruption, but what’re you doing here?”
Taeil shoots the North American director a wry smile. “I work here, Johnny.”
Johnny chuckles at the lighthearted jab. “I know that. I mean, you don’t usually attend these inter-branch meetings. What’s the occasion?”
“Something very important for all of us.” Taeil picks up the glass by his side and sips it slowly as he drops his head back down to focus on the files before him.
Johnny points at the blue, fizzy drink Taeil’s leisurely sipping at the conference desk. “Hyung, what is that?”
“Adios, motherfucker.”
“Okay, I was just asking a question. No need to be so rude this early in the day,” Johnny grumbles as he takes his seat.
Taeil laughs. “No, it’s what I’m drinking. This is a cocktail, unironically named ‘Adios, motherfucker’.”
Johnny checks his watch with a frown. “Hyung, it’s ten in the morning.”
“And we’re getting new blood, who we have to show around soon. So state your case, Johnny.”
Ah. That explains a lot. Johnny nods in sympathy and doesn’t say anything else. Not like he could, anyway. Showing newbies around never was his responsibility, even back in the States. It’s not the most glamorous part of the job, and usually taken on by his subordinates, but somehow, Taeyong managed to push this responsibility to Taeil of all people.
“Where’s your husband, Johnny?”
“Ah, Jae?” Johnny cracks a small smile and checks his watch again. “He’ll be a bit late. He just returned home from Rio early last night, so I’m letting him sleep in a little.” He turns his head to look at the otherwise empty room they’re in. “Where’s everyone else?”
“They’re coming, don’t worry,” Taeil says softly as he shuffles the papers he’s looking at back into their files. “In the meantime, can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” He smiles, the expression calm and blissful and setting Johnny’s nerves on edge. “Liquor?”
“Erm…coffee is fine, thanks hyung.”
Taeil hums and stands from his seat, making his way to the little refreshment corner of the room, complete with a refrigerator and a full-sized bar. While he sets some coffee to brew, the doors open once again, and in steps Doyoung and Yuta. They both pause when Johnny and Taeil turn to look at them, and drop into a synchronous bow.
“Director Moon, Director Seo.”
“Hello Agents Kim and Nakamoto,” Taeil greets. “Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
Doyoung and Yuta straighten up, exchanging a brief glance before Doyoung answers. “Thank you, sir. Would you like some help?”
“That’s kind of you to offer, Agent Kim,” Taeil says as Doyoung joins him to set up the drinks. “Will the other senior agents be joining us soon?”
“Most, sir.” Yuta makes his way around the table and sits a respectful distance from the directors. “Sicheng is on his way up with Ten and Jungwoo as we speak.”
As if on cue, the doors open again, and the three aforementioned men enter. Jungwoo is smiling brightly and holding his trusty tablet in hand, shirt tucked in neatly into his gray slacks and a black silk tie pressed under a paisley waistcoat. Ten and Sicheng on the other hand, are looking haggard—hair in their faces and both wincing at the bright lights. Their clothes are a bit rumpled around the edges and there’s what looks strangely like pen ink staining Sicheng’s fingers bright blue.
“Holy mother of mackerel, can the Lord shine a little dimmer today?” Ten groans, shielding his eyes from the glare of the ceiling lights as Sicheng staggers to an open seat.
Johnny quirks a brow in question, trying his damnest to not burst out laughing at the two agents’ appearance. “Sicheng, Ten, what happened to you?”
“Before anybody assumes, we’re not hungover,” Ten says, making a beeline over to the bar and ducking under Doyoung’s arm. “But give me twelve hours. I’ll get there.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I’m nowhere near drunk enough to be answering any questions right now,” Ten replies, popping open a bottle of rum and pouring it expertly into a tumbler along with other liquids that Johnny can’t quite make out. He almost forgot Ten took up a bartending gig as a cover a while back. And from the looks of it, the knowledge he gained during that mission hasn’t failed him yet.
Johnny chuckles under his breath and turns to Sicheng for an answer, but the other man is fast asleep, head pillowed on his bent arm and soft snores muffled into the fabric of his shirt.
“What the…”
“They’ve been working ‘round the clock for Director Qian and the Chief Director’s wedding anniversary,” Jungwoo stage-whispers from across the table, even going as far as cupping his hand by his mouth. “I should know. I stayed up with them looking up restaurants and trying to book hotel reservations somewhere decent in the world.”
Johnny blinks. “Since when did you all become their personal event planners?”
“I’m the secretary here, it’s my job,” Jungwoo says proudly. “As for the other two, I have no idea. Director Qian probably just set them up for it because he trusts them.”
Even for someone who’s possibly pulled as many all-nighters as Sicheng and Ten, Jungwoo looks immaculate. Maybe it’s just the fact that he’s a morning person, or maybe he’s simply reached the point of a psychotic break. And considering that he answers to both Taeyong and Taeil on the daily, Johnny’s willing to bet his life savings on the latter.
“It’d be nice if Kun-ge and the chief can stop dragging us into their domestic affairs though,” Ten groans, plopping down next to Jungwoo with a tall glass of a light amber concoction in one hand and a martini glass full of a pink liquid in another. “First, we all almost die in their lover’s spat. Now, we’re pulling all-nighters being their personal anniversary planners? What a world.” He brings forth the martini glass and downs the entire thing in one go.
Johnny watches Ten drink with fascination, only slightly worried for the other’s liver. He would stop the Thai agent from destroying himself completely, but Ten looks very content on getting wasted as fast as humanly possible, and honestly, Johnny understands his sentiment. He’s dealt with his own fair share of Taeyong and Kun over the years. Any event requiring the two of them to be together is automatically worthy of a couple drinks on the behalf of every other poor soul involved.
And somewhere in the back, Taeil must’ve read his mind, because he comes back holding a tray with an assortment of cocktails on it, stopping by every agent present to allow them to take their pick. Doyoung and Yuta each take a shot glass of liquor. Ten helps himself to a mimosa and a margarita. Jungwoo thanks the director as he picks up a mandarin daiquiri. Sicheng gets a pretty mojito slid over by his unconscious head.
“And of course, your favorite,” Taeil says, setting a rather large martini glass filled with a rich, frothy drink before Johnny. “Espresso martini.”
“You know me too well, hyung,” Johnny grins, raising the glass to his lips and taking a careful sip. “I didn’t even know we had all the stuff to make these here.”
“When you work with Taeyong, you learn to keep the bar well-stocked, always,” Taeil says sagely, sipping his own blue monstrosity. “Speaking of whom, when will he be coming? He should be the first to greet our newest agents before we show them around.”
“Those poor fucking kids,” Ten sobs into his mimosa, already half past tipsy. “They can’t die here! It’s almost the holidays too! They’re just kids! Lord have mercy on them, they’re just babies!”
“He and Director Qian might swing by once the company of interest arrives,” Jungwoo notes calmly, taking a classy sip of his drink as he types away at this tablet with the other hand. “Last I checked in on them, they were both preoccupied in Chief Director Lee’s office.”
Taeil stiffens in his seat, the memories from almost a whole year ago burning in the back of his one functioning retina. "They aren't—"
"They are."
“Oh god ,” Ten wails, shooting up from his seat and abandoning his empty glasses for the bar again. “I don’t wanna know. I don’t wanna hear it! I’m still sober enough to understand Korean, why am I still sober enough to understand Korean?”
“Even if you end up not understanding Korean, you do realize all of us here speak at least three languages, right?” Yuta quips from a couple seats down.
Ten cries louder as he starts downing vodka shots without even leaving the bar.
“While I don’t condone drinking on the job,” Doyoung states, tossing back his shot and stacking his glass with Yuta’s already-empty one. “Alcohol is an excellent salve to our collective emotional pain.” He turns to Taeil, expression dead serious. “Permission to get shit-faced in preparation for the trauma we will have to endure in approximately fifteen minutes, sir?”
Taeil waves at the bar. “Permission granted.”