Chapter Text
It was the lack of Seungmin at the front desk that first caught his attention, really, even if Minho would never admit to enjoying their weekly verbal spars. He walked around the partition, setting his bundle down on the desk and presumptuously flipping through Seungmin’s planner. No one bothered to stop him, the office girls not even attempting to make disapproving eye contact, which was slightly disappointing. He wasn’t surprised though: no one was brave enough to tell off their boss’s future husband, it seemed.
Seungmin’s calendar was crammed page to page with meetings dutifully noted in neat, tiny handwriting, which meant there was no way Seungmin wasn’t in the building somewhere, but it was out of character for him to not be present. Minho had never even seen him off this floor before. Well, no matter. Minho walked into the office behind him, leaving behind only a single sticky note: Cancel his dinner plans. He’ll be with me.
“Good morning, Channie,” Minho trilled, striding into his fiancé’s office on the top floor like he owned the place. Which he would, soon enough. “I made all your favorites for lunch today— oh, hello.” He stopped in his tracks.
“Minho-hyung,” Changbin greeted cordially, sprawled out across the leather sofa, where he had been in conversation with Chan. “Long time no see.”
Minho’s smile softened into something more genuine. Out of all of Chan’s associates, Changbin was by far the easiest to get along with, having gone to university with Chan and thus Minho’s favorite source of embarrassing stories. Blackmail material, if you will. Changbin now ran a successful record label of his own, and Minho had happily offered him a discount on the designs for his new headquarters.
“Haven’t seen you around much lately,” Minho replied, rounding Chan’s desk to plunk his bundle down. He began setting its contents out right on top of his fiancé’s paperwork, ignoring the disgruntled expression on Chan’s face.
Changbin raised an eyebrow as Chan stubbornly tugged his folders out from under the containers. “Yeah, I was back in the States negotiating some distribution contracts. Seems like you two are finally getting along, though… Since when have you been bringing Chan-hyung lunch?”
Minho laughed airily. “Don’t be silly, we’ve always gotten along,” he replied, ignoring Chan’s muttered since when in favor of cramming a napkin down Chan’s collar. He’d brought it for this express purpose. Maybe if he were quick, he could take a few pictures later for blackmail purposes. “But our parents thought it was high time we learned to live with each other, so we’ve moved into the penthouse of that new building that just finished construction.” Minho dropped a perfunctory kiss on Chan’s cheek, smiling sweetly at the glare he gets in return. “Now eat up, darling.”
Changbin snorted at Chan’s sour expression as he reluctantly picked up the chopsticks. “Lucky man, getting to eat Minho’s home cooking.” The producer glanced over at his friend’s future husband as he curled up in the adjacent loveseat, eyes fixed on Chan like a cat intent on its prey. “So what’d he do this time?” Changbin whispered, watching Minho’s lips curl up in smug satisfaction as Chan began to choke in front of them.
“Have you met his personal assistant yet?”
“The girl with the scarf?”
“No, the guy sitting on the far left.”
“There was no guy on the far left.”
“Mm, you’ll know when you see him.” Minho raised his voice from the hushed discussion he’d been having with Changbin. “Channie, where is Seungmin?”
Chan glowered at him, face swollen and eyes teary as he pounded back another glass of water. Minho hadn’t gone easy on him today, sliced serrano peppers stuffed in the otherwise-innocuous inarizushi. Chan would never dare to not eat Minho’s cooking though, not when his mother could possibly hear of it. He’d learned that lesson early enough. “Showing the new employee around,” Chan croaked, coughing as he refilled his glass. “I have a meeting tonight, Minho, I can’t present like this.”
“I canceled it already, don’t worry,” Minho replied breezily. Despite his mischief, he was always careful not to affect Chan’s corporate affairs too badly. “No one will protest you having dinner with me instead.” He smirked at Chan’s instinctive whimper.
Changbin glanced between the two. “So the PA, huh? I guess cliches are classic for a reason.”
Minho nodded. “Channie got him flowers for his birthday. He never gets me flowers.”
“You hate flowers,” Chan protested. “You put shaving cream on my pillow the last time I tried to buy you flowers.”
Before Minho could retort that really, it was the principle of the thing, there was a knock at the door. Changbin raised an eyebrow. “Is that him, then? I’ll get it, I have to see this for myself.”
Minho smirked at Chan’s hasty attempt to blow his nose and pat the sweat off his face at the same time before giving in and crossing the room to fix Chan’s appearance himself. This close, Chan’s frown was really more of a pout, all droopy eyes and petulant lips, and Minho could understand why there were so many women willing to kill for his arranged marriage. Maybe if Minho hadn’t known him since they were both in diapers, then—
“Sir? Am I interrupting?” A familiar voice interrupted Minho’s thoughts, and he turned around slowly to see Seungmin staring back at them, unimpressed.
“Seungminnie,” Minho purred. “I didn’t see you when I came in earlier.”
Seungmin sniffed in disapproval, glancing back and forth between Minho and Chan’s admittedly suggestive pose. With his back turned to the door, it almost seemed like Minho, standing between Chan’s legs, had been leaning down to kiss him. “Director Lee. Please do try to comport yourselves, this is still a workplace.”
Minho smiled sweetly. “Didn’t I say to just call me Minho? And what did you think we were getting up to? In front of Changbin, no less. Your imagination must be very… vivid.” He smirked in triumph at the blush Seungmin suddenly had to fight down.
“S-sorry, Seungmin!” Chan yelped, eyes wide and eager to please as always. “We were just having lunch.”
Seungmin nodded along dubiously, but chose to ignore his boss’s idiosyncrasies in favor of shuffling through the papers he’d been carrying. “Do you have time to look over the paperwork now? There are a few things I need you to sign, the board’s been leaving voicemails all day.”
“That’s my cue to leave, I think,” Minho said, patting his fiancé on the arm. As much as he loved causing trouble, he wouldn’t ever truly interfere with anything important. “Do try to make it to dinner at 8.”
“I’ll be there.” Chan smiled absently up at him, although his eyes never left Seungmin’s face. Something twisted in Minho’s gut, sour enough that he hoped it didn’t bubble up into his expression, and he waved goodbye to Changbin before silently leaving.
Barely two feet out of Chan’s office, someone spills coffee all over his shirt.
Jisung had been having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Practically speaking, it should have actually been one of the best days of his life, since he was finally working at his dream job, all his tears and frustration through university finally paying off to land him a cushy position at BC International. But as soon as he got through onboarding, ID still warm from the printer, he’d been handed a long list of coffee orders and pointed in the direction of the nearest cafe.
Turned out their young CEO was a bit of a workaholic, and what he couldn’t finish, his personal assistant Seungmin did. What he had to delegate, the next highest-ranking employee carried on, and the next, and so on and so forth. At the bottom of the heap, Jisung barely even had any paper to push, and he was so, so tempted to vent his frustrations on Twitter, but he didn’t want to get fired on his first day for being on his phone, either. There was no telling who could walk by his tiny cubicle.
More than anything, Jisung wanted to earn his paycheck, but there was. Nothing. To. Do.
Finally, Seungmin took pity on him, handing the phones off to a bored-looking Yuna and taking Jisung on a tour of the building. As they walked around, Seungmin pointing out various facilities for their employees who worked overtime, Jisung got to know the other man a little better too, which was really the only highlight of his day.
Seungmin hadn’t been with the corporation for more than a few years, but his efficiency soon landed him on the top floor and in charge of easing the then-CEO’s son into his current position.
“What’s President Bang like?” Jisung asked tentatively.
Seungmin smiled wryly at him as they boarded the elevator back up to the top floor. “Well, for starters, President Bang is his father. Our boss really insists to everyone that they should just call him Chan.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “He’s a good man, and he treats hardworking people very well. Chan will never ask anything of you that he wouldn’t be willing to do himself, and he pulls all-nighters just as often as we do.”
Jisung knew better than to comment on how much more animated Seungmin looked now compared to during the tour. “He sounds almost too good to be true.”
Seungmin dipped his head briefly in acknowledgment. “I respect him as an employer… and as a person.”
“There’s a ‘but’, isn’t there.”
Seungmin smiled blandly, although it didn't reach his eyes. “Chan is engaged to Lee Minho, of the Lee family. Yes, that one,” he added, Jisung nodding along like he knew what he was talking about. He didn’t. “An arranged marriage contract from when they were children. You’ll see him around occasionally.”
Jisung nodded obediently. Easy enough rules to follow. “Don’t hit on the hot boss when his fiancé’s around, got it.”
Seungmin snorted. It was the first genuine sound Jisung had wrangled out of him all day, and it made him seem more human. Maybe Jisung could grow to be good friends with him. “No, that’s not… Just be careful around him. Minho is… trying, at best. Don’t piss him off, if you can avoid it.”
Jisung shrugged. He’d keep that in mind, but he doubted he’d have anything to do with his boss’s boyfriend, and there were loads of people ranked higher than him. There’s no way he could do anything to piss Lee Minho off.
Jisung regrets his carelessness now, with his iced coffee dripping from Minho’s shirt, the now-empty cup in his outstretched hand, and a quiet whimper that he slowly realizes is originating from his own throat.
“Please don’t fire me.”
“Imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimso—“
“Hey, I said it was okay,” Minho snapped sharply, regretting his tone immediately at the automatic flinch it garnered. He purposely softened his voice, not wanting to frighten the other man any further. “We’re lucky I always keep a spare suit in Chan’s office, yeah? No harm done.”
The new employee (Minho hadn’t gotten his name yet) ducked his head down, eyes hidden beneath fluffy bangs, although Minho could tell he was gnawing at his lip so hard it was bleeding.
“Hey.” Minho reached out to grab the other man’s wrist as he continued single-mindedly pressing paper towels onto Minho’s ruined shirt. It was a little worrisome how thin his wrist was, and Minho could clearly feel how fluttery his pulse was. He winced internally. The poor man must be terrified. And on his first day, too.
Minho gently tugged the trembling man away from the sink, grateful that there was a lock on the door. “Hey, look at me, Han Jisung,” he read from the man’s lanyard. “Jisung, it was an accident. No one’s getting fired.”
Minho was never really any good at comforting other people, but he managed to coax Jisung down on the settee, one hand rubbing soothing circles on Jisung’s back, the other groping behind him for tissues.
“I’m really sorry,” Jisung blubbered, words almost incomprehensible between heaving sobs. “I j-just— I didn’t mean to.”
Minho kept making reassuring noises as he handed Jisung more tissues, reaching back towards the sink to wet one and dab it at Jisung’s bloody lip. He tsked sympathetically, indifferent to the water trickling into his sleeves. “It’s been overwhelming for you today, hasn’t it?”
Jisung nodded, still sniffling. “I c-can pay for the dry c-cleaning. Please let me pay, please don’t f-fire me.”
“No one is going to be firing you, sweetheart,” Minho soothed, reluctantly pulling away as Jisung got his voice back under control. “If Chan wants to punish you, he’ll have to go through me first.” If anything, Chan was probably still laughing in his office.
Minho had always been a cat person, but if Jisung kept those teary puppy eyes on him any longer, he might have to reconsider his preferences. “You’re being s-so nice to me, sir.”
“I usually am.” Minho winked salaciously, pleased with the surprised laugh it induces in Jisung. “And you can call me hyung.”
“Okay… Minho-hyung.”
Minho smiled back at him. He hoped it looked reassuring; there was just something about Jisung that brought out all his protective instincts. Maybe it had just been too long since anyone had so openly shown weakness in front of him, maybe it was the endearing roundness of his cheeks, but regardless of the reason, Minho very much wanted Jisung to be comfortable around him.
“Still worried about Chan?” Minho asked quietly, noticing Jisung’s hesitance. Jisung nodded, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth again, but Minho automatically reached out to thumb over it, making him part his lips in surprise. “...Sorry. Just… don’t bite, please.”
Now it was Minho’s turn to hesitate. It was a bit premature for him to ask something like this, but… “Would you want to have dinner with us tonight? You’re a part of his primary team now, and I promise he’ll alleviate any concerns you might still have in person. It’ll be a more private setting than at the office, maybe you’ll be more comfortable there.”
“I… You’re inviting me to your home? Tonight?”
Now it was Minho’s turn to be nervous as he nodded slowly. A gut instinct told him this was the right choice, though, and Minho had never been led astray by his intuitions. Sure enough, Jisung nodded timidly. “If… if you’re sure. I want to apologize again.”
Minho’s smile widened, unable to hide how pleased he was. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“You have his file, right?”
Chan stared warily back at his maelstrom of a fiancé, whose expression right now he couldn’t read at all. “What are you planning?” After spending an abnormally long time sequestered in the restroom together, Chan had only stuck around long enough to make sure that Jisung hadn’t been reduced to tears before requesting Changbin to send him home. Minho had resurfaced looking remarkably self-satisfied, and while Chan knew most of their spats were stress relief in a way, there was something he couldn’t quite place about the situation.
Minho snorted, rolling his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to eat him or anything.” He stood up with his hand outstretched, waiting patiently.
Chan reluctantly handed over a thin binder. “That’s not a denial that you do have plans, though.”
Minho hummed absently, flipping through the scant paperwork and raising an eyebrow at whatever was on the page. “Huh, Melbourne? Careful, your bias is showing. But those interview scores are impressive.”
Chan nodded, before realizing Minho wasn’t looking in his direction. “Yeah, he was one of the few hires I interviewed myself.”
“He wasn’t nervous with you in the room or anything?”
Chan laughed, recalling that day. “Actually, when I introduced myself after we were done with the questions, he said he hadn’t realized who I was.”
The glint in Minho’s eye was unfamiliar, but not intimidating. “And he told you that directly? Ballsy.”
“Yeah, it was refreshing to not deal with any pandering. Jisung has a lot of potential.”
Minho snapped the binder shut. “You like him then. Good, because I’ve invited him to dinner.”
That was the last thing Chan had expected to come out of Minho’s mouth. “What?”
“Jisung is coming over tonight,” Minho enunciated again, shrugging elegantly. “He said he wanted to apologize to you in person again, even though I told him he didn’t have to.”
Chan frowned slightly. “That’s silly, why would he need to? It wasn’t intentional.”
“That’s what I told him,” Minho agreed, pleased they were on the same page. “But he seemed to think that ruining his new boss’s fiancé’s clothes was an offense severe enough to warrant punishment.”
“I wouldn’t do that to him.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Minho leaned in, making direct eye contact with Chan. “But maybe it is something we should keep in mind. To keep up pretenses. We are engaged, after all, and it benefits us both if maybe you didn’t look absolutely entertained to see me messy.”
“...Right,” Chan reluctantly concurred. “Okay, if Jisung thinks it’s necessary, I’ll see him later tonight then.”
Minho made to leave Chan’s office, but before he could walk away, Chan grabbed his wrist. “Wait, Minho.” At the confused expression he gets in response, Chan presses on. “Are we still okay? You know, with Seungmin and everything.”
“Of course. You know you don’t need to keep asking every time, it’s not like the two of us are actually in love.” Chan wished Minho’s returning smile wasn’t so noticeably brittle, even if his tone was genuine enough. Minho sighed, turning back to brush another soft kiss over Chan’s forehead. “You have my blessing, Channie, you always do.”
Everything after Minho kindly tugged him out of the restroom was a blur to Jisung. Somehow, he made it into the parking garage with his things, following a short, intimidating-looking man to a Porsche he could never afford in a slight daze, still unsure of what all had just happened.
“So where are we going?” The other man finally spoke up. His voice was raspier than Jisung had expected, constantly threatening to drop into a growl.
“Um.”
“Your address,” Changbin reiterated patiently, steering them out of the parking garage. “Hyung asked me to take you home.”
“H-he did?” Jisung rattled off his home address automatically.
“Mmhm.” Changbin’s eyes never left the road, even as he reached over to plug it into the GPS. “It’s funny, Minho-hyung almost never asks me for favors.” At Jisung’s blank expression, he elaborates: “The last time he asked me for any help was back when we were in university. Moron broke his ankle and thought all he needed was some ice on it. I thought he was asking me to bring him ice for a drink.” Changbin snorted. “I ended up having to drag him to the hospital.”
Jisung didn’t know how to respond to that, looking down instead. He was still dazedly terrified of losing his job, but maybe Minho had meant what he said. Maybe he truly was just being kind.
“My point is, you really don’t need to be afraid of him or anything. I know he comes off as a bit prickly, but he means w—”
“That’s the thing though,” Jisung interrupted, “he’s been nothing but nice to me. Sorry.” Changbin waved off his apology, motioning for him to continue. “Just, I’ve heard about him from the others, but he took time out of his day to make sure I was okay? And told me I didn’t have to apologize? I keep expecting the other shoe to drop.” He was still shaken, but something about Changbin’s laid-back nature made it easy to confess. “I guess I’ll find out at dinner tonight.”
The car jerked to a halt as Changbin slammed the brakes down at a stoplight, turning his entire torso to face Jisung. “He invited you to dinner?”
“Yes?” Jisung replied hesitantly. Changbin’s expression wasn’t helping Jisung’s nerves.
“...Huh.” Changbin didn’t speak again for quite some time, although Jisung could tell that he was sneaking glances at him. “Wow.”
“Please tell me I’m not going to get murdered tonight.”
“No, no,” Changbin hastily replied. “I’m just… Wow. Minho must really like you to invite you over.”
“Like me?”
Changbin nodded, pulling up to a modest apartment building. “Yeah, he’s… Oh, we’re here.”
Jisung twitched, not having noticed that they were already at his place. “Oh… Thanks for the ride, Changbin.”
Changbin gave him a small smile. “Not a problem. I’d wish you luck tonight, but I don’t think you’ll need it.”
Changbin watched the other man stumble up the steps into the lobby, thoughts whirling. So this was Minho’s type? Although there was no telling if his best friend’s fiancé was aware of the implications of his own actions.
“Seems like staying in Korea was the right move after all,” he murmured quietly to himself. “I didn’t think things were going to get this interesting.”
Changbin pulled his phone out of his pocket as he switched lanes and rejoined the flow of traffic. “Yo, hyung.”
[Unknown Number]
Hope you made it home safely!
Here’s the address for tonight:
[link attached]
Han Jisung
Sorry, who is this?
Wait, Minho-hyung?
Lee Minho
Yep, it’s me :)
See you tonight at 8! It’ll be casual.
Read: 1:51pm
The thing is, Chan and Minho were both products of their upbringing, both their parents’ sons before they were ambitious young men just trying to make their own way in the world. Being born with a golden spoon in one’s mouth meant vast amounts of wealth, luxury deep enough to drown in, and privilege beyond the average person’s wildest dreams. But it also meant a chokehold on personal freedoms. For Bang Chan and Lee Minho, it meant an arranged marriage to finalize a corporate merger that had been years in the making, despite neither of them having any sort of romantic inclination towards the other.
True, they had already discussed this openly with each other, agreeing to keep up the pretense just for their parents, but Minho especially chafed at the idea that he didn’t have the freedom to form a long-term relationship with someone he truly loved, not if it meant he’d be tied to Chan forever.
Chan himself was less bothered by the situation, more resigned to his fate and so preoccupied by work that he simply didn’t have the time to angst over it all, but if Changbin’s intuition was correct, he’d be spending the next few weeks, if not months, doped up on pain relievers from the headache-inducing situation Minho had obliviously landed himself in.
“Is everything alright?” Seungmin’s tone was as neutral as always, but Chan thought he could detect a thread of concern in it. “You’ve been off all afternoon.”
Chan smiled up at his assistant. “Aww, you do care.”
Seungmin scoffed. “Of course I do. That’s why you pay me.”
Chan’s smile didn’t dim at all, too used to Seungmin’s standoffish nature at work. He only truly softened when they were alone and out of the building, in whatever short moments they could steal alone. Chan didn’t mind: his possessive side purred at the idea that only he ever saw Seungmin that way.
“That’s not the only reason, though. Right?” He teased.
Seungmin flushed, suddenly unwilling to make eye contact. “Come on, not here.” It was answer enough.
“Then… my place tonight?”
Seungmin finally set his pen down, turning his full attention on his full-time boss and part-time lover. “Will Minho be okay with that?”
“Of course, you know how much he genuinely likes you.” Even if they had to keep up this ridiculous front in public. Although Chan was never sure how much of the bickering was actually pretend: they both seemed to enjoy it far too much.
“I know, but…” Seungmin trailed off, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “It still feels wrong to impose, somehow.” There were times when even he bought into Minho’s and Chan’s play, even being in on the plot himself.
“Well, you won’t need to worry about that tonight. Minho invited Jisung to dinner.”
“The new guy? Really?” Seungmin’s surprise was evident in his voice. “He’s never paid attention to any of your employees like that before.”
“Exactly my point. But yeah, do come over.” Chan smiled secretively. “I think you’ll be interested in what you’ll see tonight.”
He may adamantly deny it, but Yang Jeongin was Minho’s son.
“Stop calling me that! You’re literally not my dad.”
Yes, Minho may not have given birth to Jeongin himself, but in all other aspects, his baby cousin might as well be his very own spawn and therefore Minho was completely within his right to conscript him into washing the vegetables.
“This has to be illegal,” Jeongin intoned, although he had the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up obediently already.
“I’m feeding you tonight, aren’t I?” Minho retorted cheerfully, knife flashing quickly over the ingredients. He had always enjoyed good food, and no one ever complained when his frustrations produced such tasty results. Well, except Chan, but his food was always… special.
Jeongin rolled his eyes. “You’re feeding Chan’s new minion, the rest of us just got lucky. How’s hyung enjoying his lunches anyway?”
Minho smirked. “I’m putting his stomach of steel to the test, that’s for sure.”
Jeongin shook his head in resignation, mumbling something about Chan being a total masochist. Minho pretended not to hear, long since used to Jeongin’s disbelief. Minho had no such affections for Chan. Not in the way he should.
“How long are you staying with us this time?” Minho asked lightly, peeking into the rice cooker. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, not after last time.
Jeongin shrugged. “Dunno. Until I feel like going back, I guess.” Back to LA, where Jeongin was supposed to be attending university. “Auntie seemed happy enough that I would be chaperoning you two. As if you need it.”
Of course Minho’s mother was worried about keeping things proper, even if they were living together. Minho himself was perfectly happy with sleeping alone, at least. After they got married… that would be a different story.
“You’re going to stay even after break’s over?” Minho probed gently. “What about your friends at school?”
Jeongin lowered his head. “They won’t miss me.”
“Jeongin—”
“It’s fine, hyung,” Jeongin cut him off sharply. “Really.”
Minho nodded silently, recognizing that he shouldn’t press further. Jeongin had always been a bit of a loner, and Minho was sure that particular quality had only been exacerbated by his isolation in a foreign country. Despite growing up with Chan around all the time, Jeongin’s English pronunciation was somehow still terrible.
“Besides,” Jeongin continued shyly, “my study abroad application got confirmed yesterday. I’ll be at SNU in the fall.” He beamed up at Minho, smile so wide his eyes were little arches.
“Innie!” Minho gasped in delight. “Congratulations! Aww, come here.”
Chan came home to Minho and Jeongin wrestling in the kitchen. He stood there just staring at them for a moment. “Honey, I’m home,” he called out dryly over the yelps of pain and Minho’s gleeful “Who’s your daddy now, brat?”
Chan’s fiancé straightened up from where he had been grinding his knuckles into Jeongin’s hair. His grin was a little unhinged, but the sparkle in his eye was all affection. “Channie,” Minho cooed. “Guess who’s staying with us for the rest of the year~”
“I’ll be on exchange in Korea,” Jeongin admitted, flushing as Minho tried to pinch his cheeks again. “Hyung, stop it!”
Chan’s absolutely feral smile matched Minho’s in magnitude as he dove forward to smother Jeongin himself.
“Oh, come on hyung— ow—"
Jisung would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about the dinner invitation. He’d already changed six times before finally setting on his first choice: a nice, fitted navy blazer with a plain white tee underneath and his nicest black jeans. It was a little on the formal side if dinner was going to be casual, a little on the casual side for a formal dinner. A safe choice. Right?
“You can stop looking at yourself in the mirror now,” Jisung’s absolutely useless roommate drawled from where he laid on Jisung’s bed, one hand shoveling chips into his mouth like Jisung hadn’t already demanded he stop eating on other people’s beds. “That hair isn’t going to fix itself.”
“Then why don’t you do something about it,” Jisung retorted right back. Just because they had both softened from the sheer antagonism of their university days didn’t mean that their dynamic ever remained peaceful for long. It was a miracle they even managed to live together without biting each other’s heads off, some days.
Hyunjin rolled his eyes, taking his time in getting up to go toss the chips and grab Jisung’s hairspray from the bathroom.
“Wait, no, I take it back, I don’t want your greasy fingers in my hair.” Even if Jisung was fiercely jealous of Hyunjin’s blond locks and his magical ability to look ten times hotter than his personality suited.
“Shut up, I wiped them off.”
“On my freshly laundered towel—”
“Hold still.”
Jisung receded with one last grumble, letting Hyunjin fuss with his hair before stepping back to take it in. Jisung fidgeted. “How do I look?”
Hyunjin sniffed. “Hot, of course. That boss of yours won’t be able to resist you.”
Jisung turned beet red. “He’s married. And I’m going to apologize.”
“Thought you said he was engaged.”
“Same thing. Besides,” Jisung added, “it was his fiancé that invited me in the first place.”
“I see,” Hyunjin replied in a way that made it clear he did not, in fact, see at all. “So let me recap: you spilled coffee on your boss’s man. Neither your boss nor his boyfriend are actually upset about this. And they still invited you to dinner? Under the pretense of apologizing?”
“It’s not a pretense,” Jisung insisted stubbornly. “I genuinely would feel more comfortable if I could just talk to Chan again.”
“Uh-huh,” Hyunjin replied skeptically. “I reserve the right to tell you ‘I told you so’ when you come back with hickeys.”
Jisung rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t you have a shift to get to?” Hyunjin bartended most nights at some high-end jazz club downtown. The hours were unconventional, but the pay and tips were high enough to make it worth it. Jisung honestly didn’t know much about it all, but Hyunjin always paid rent on time, so he couldn’t really care less.
At those words, Hyunjin flopped face down into Jisung’s crumb-covered duvet again. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Boss cut my hours again.”
Jisung frowned. “What? Why?”
“Who knows.” Bitterness saturated Hyunjin’s voice. “I still have some savings left, so don’t worry, I’ll still be able to afford my half of the bills.”
Jisung hesitated. “If you need me to spot y—”
“Don’t,” Hyunjin ordered emphatically, voice muffled. “I’ll figure something out. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Fine. You better do the dishes before you leave.” Jisung tromped out of their shared apartment in his favorite combat boots, praying the extra height would give him a bit of an edge on his confidence levels, too.
Well, that certainly wasn’t Minho or Chan. Jisung glanced back at the doorframe, wildly looking around for any sort of address indication before realizing how ridiculous he must have looked. There was only one penthouse, after all. Maybe he was in the wrong building entirely.
“Um,” Jisung said weakly when face to face with the blank-faced teenager who had opened the door. The younger man was dressed casually in a hoodie and basketball shorts, soft black bangs hanging in his eyes.
The other boy stared dubiously back at him. “You’re Jisung?” When Jisung nodded, he shrugged and gestured for Jisung to come in, letting the door slam shut behind them with a loud bang, immediately succeeded by a louder shout.
“HYUNG! HE’S HERE!” The younger man glanced back dubiously at Jisung’s startled expression, clearly not thinking much of him. “Pretty sure he’s in the shower, but you can put that in the kitchen.” He nodded at the bottle of wine that Jisung was clutching like a lifeline. “Come on, I’ll take you.”
As much as he tried to resist, Jisung couldn’t stop staring at the penthouse interior. So this was what money looked like, floor to ceiling windows that stretched up the height of two stories and a luxuriously decorated living room in complementary creams and browns. This late at night, the city outside was stunning, skyscrapers barely visible but for clustered specks of artificial starlight in a vertigo-inducing scene, mirrored by the faint stars in the actual sky above. Jisung was entranced, looking forward to getting a closer look later if he could, but he could hear the impatient shuffling coming from behind him and reluctantly turned away.
“So, uh, what’s your name?” Jisung asked hesitantly.
The younger man visibly looked him over from head to toe before deigning to answer. “Jeongin. I’m Minho’s cousin. You work with Chan, right?”
Jisung laughed nervously. “Yeah… Have they talked about me?”
Jeongin shrugged, gesturing to the doorway of the kitchen and the figure inside. “Ask him yourself.” In a louder tone, he called out, “Minho-hyung, Jisung made it.” He backed out, a strange glint in his eye, and then Jisung was left alone in the kitchen, nerves alight with trepidation.
Minho turned around with open delight on his face though, still clad in the same outfit sans suit jacket, this time with the addition of a ridiculously frilly apron. Here in the comfort of his own home, the other man looked much warmer and more personable, more relaxed, and Jisung could feel his own tension begin to drain out in return. Maybe things would go well tonight, after all.
“Jisung! Oh, wow, you look good.” Blatant checking out must run in the family. Jisung began to feel a bit self-conscious. Maybe he had overdressed.
“I bring offerings,” Jisung blurted out instead, passing over the wine bottle for Minho to inspect.
“Oh, this is going to go so well with dinner tonight.” Minho smiled up at Jisung from under his lashes. “Thank you, Jisung.” He turned away before Jisung could stammer out a reply. “Feel free to explore if you want, I think we still have a few minutes before I can take this out of the oven.”
Jisung nodded, before realizing Minho wasn’t looking at him. “O-okay, I’ll do that then.”
Now with permission, Jisung intended to veer right back to those beautiful windows, but as he exited the kitchen, he almost ran face first into another person. “Oh shi— oh, um. Sir. Hi.”
“Oh, Jisung!” Chan looked just as startled to see him, but he wasn’t taken aback for long, breaking out in a friendly smile.
“Yeah, hi, um.” Jisung reached out to shake his hand before realizing Chan was holding a bundle of towels, aborting the motion and awkwardly running a hand through his hair instead. Great, now he just looked stupid.
To be fair, Chan was anything but intimidating dressed down in a slightly damp tee and shorts, face still pink from steam, and he didn’t look particularly fazed by Jisung’s clumsy greeting. “Well, it’s great to have you here tonight,” he offered, nothing but genuine kindness in his voice. “Don’t stand on occasion, we can save the formalities for the office.” He winked, startling a laugh out of Jisung.
“No, sir, I won’t.”
“And you can call me Chan, or Chris, whichever you prefer.” There was something searching in Chan’s gaze, something that made Jisung want to stand a little straighter and look a little neater, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what Chan was looking for. Seriously, did staring run in the family or was there just something on Jisung’s face? He made a mental note to check in the mirror at his earliest convenience.
“A-alright then, Chan-hyung,” Jisung tested out, relaxing when Chan nodded in approval.
“Why don’t you go join Minho in the kitchen, I’m just going to toss these in the laundry and then I’ll be there, too.” Having said his piece, Chan shuffled off with another smile for Jisung.
Jisung shrugged and turned back towards the kitchen, more than a little eager to see Minho again. As easygoing as his boss had man, it was still Minho who had extended a helping hand first, Minho who had taken that extra step to put him at ease, and Minho whose presence he looked forward to the most. Jisung definitely intended to stick closest to Minho the entire night, as long as Chan didn’t mind too much, because that was where he felt the safest to express himself.
Jisung wasn’t expecting the clear chime that rang out through the apartment, though. Was someone else coming tonight?
The door opened on a dream. Specifically, Seungmin’s dream, one he wasn’t ever willing to admit sober he wanted.
“Hey.” Seungmin can all but hear the cheesy smile in his voice, even if his eyes are still glued to the absolute fantasy that was Chan’s arms, dripping wet. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”
“Never say that again,” Seungmin replied exasperatedly, but he let Chan draw him forward into an embrace anyway, burying his damp face into Seungmin’s shoulder.
“…Are you sniffing me?”
“Mm. You smell nice.”
“You mean I smell like you.” Seungmin tightened his hands only briefly around those wonderful muscles, before reluctantly letting go. His eyes flitted down the hallway, but luckily no one had stumbled across them.
Chan pouted as he was nudged away, earning himself another one of Seungmin’s patented looks of disapproval. “Don’t start, Jisung is probably already here.”
“He is,” Chan confirmed, leaning back against the wall, something smug in his crossed arms.
Seungmin raised an eyebrow at him. “And this has something to do with why you wanted me here again tonight?”
“Maybe,” Chan replied coyly, dragging out the word. “But I think we might have… less to worry about, in the future. Well, what you worried about,” he added, clarifying. “Watch Minho tonight.”
“Alright. We’ll see.” Seungmin sighed. Whether he was acting as Seungmin’s boss or not, Chan was always subtle, preferring to… maneuver people and situations around him without ever revealing his intentions. If he wasn’t such a kind man, Seungmin was sure his lover would have become an evil mastermind hellbent on world domination.
“Everyone’s in the kitchen. Can I at least have a kiss?” Chan pleaded right in his ear, causing Seungmin to make a face and push the brunet off.
“No.” But Seungmin reached down to intertwine their fingers together anyway. Okay, so perhaps not an evil mastermind, but Seungmin would willingly be his right-hand man no matter their agenda.
Seungmin was on his third glass of wine, and they hadn’t even made it to dessert. Not that Seungmin thought he could stomach anything sweet, considering the absolutely sickening sight right in front of his face. Oh, he saw alright.
Once more, Seungmin squeezed Chan’s hand so tightly he could feel his bones grind together, finding satisfaction in the wince Chan was trying to suppress. “He knows, doesn’t he?” Seungmin whispered heatedly to Chan.
In front of them, Jisung and Minho were entirely absorbed in their own conversation, and Seungmin was free to glare at his lover right in front of their faces. Jeongin had long since escaped the apartment, out to meet up with old friends or something, Seungmin hadn’t been paying much attention compared to the full-length kdrama happening right in front of their faces.
“He doesn’t.” Chan grimaced. “Babe, my hand…”
Seungmin ignored his pleas, risking another glance at the pair in front of him. Jisung was gesturing wildly with his hands, chattering on about god knows what, but Minho’s dazzled expression was as loud as his avid attention. Seungmin was no body language expert (this was a lie, Seungmin had a degree in psychology he rarely used), but there was certainly no need for Minho to be leaning in so closely to Jisung, nor was there truly a need for him to cling on to Jisung’s arm like that as he laughed. Seungmin knew from experience there was no way Jisung was that funny.
“He’s… flirting?” Seungmin stared in disbelief. “How? Why? What?”
“I told you,” Chan sang out quietly, tugging Seungmin away from the dinner table and into the living room. The other two didn’t even notice their departure. “I should’ve realized it as soon as he followed Jisung into the bathroom earlier today. Even Changbin picked up on it, you know, when Minho made him promise to drive Jisung home.”
“Huh.” Seungmin was beginning to understand where Chan was going with all of this, absentmindedly tucking his legs underneath himself as he curled up into the couch. “So you want to…”
“No, not yet.” Seungmin glanced at Chan, waiting for him to explain. “This is something Minho needs to come to terms with, himself. There’s obviously a lot of chemistry between them, but it’s up to them to figure it all out, not us.”
Seungmin nodded, brows knit in deep thought. “I wonder what Jisung thinks, since he doesn’t know about your and hyung’s arrangement.”
Chan shrugged. “That’ll be up to Minho, too.” He hesitated. “Knowingly or not, though, I’m happy he’s interested in someone else. I always…” Chan swallowed. “You know. I always thought he had feelings for me I didn’t return. He’s so happy for us, but at the same time, I know he sees us and just feels lonely.”
Seungmin nodded, remembering the terror he’d felt when first confronting Minho. After all, there was no easy way to tell someone you thought his fiancé was trying to cheat on him with you. And yet it was the easy way Minho had digested Seungmin’s flustered rambling with nothing more than a slow blink, the simple “That’s all?” that had stopped Seungmin in his self-flagellating tracks and, well. The rest was history.
“I’m not sorry, you know,” Seungmin murmured against Chan’s hair, settling the other man more firmly by his side. “It’s unfortunate that you two are stuck in this arrangement, but you made the best of it, acted as honorably as you could have. Neither of you lied to each other, and you and Minho-hyung communicate better than some actual couples I know.” Seungmin rubbed his thumb over the back of Chan’s hand, carefully selecting his words.
“I won’t apologize for liking you, though,” Seungmin continued firmly, intertwining their fingers again. “My feelings for you have nothing to do with other people and if we choose to separate, it’ll be solely our decision and— Why are you looking at me like that?” Seungmin asked in exasperation.
Chan doesn’t reply at first, busy staring at him with such a tender gaze in his eyes that Seungmin felt his throat begin to close up. Oh no, Chan was going to do something stupid again—
“I love you.” And Chan said it with such emphasis that Seungmin could say nothing in return, overwhelmed by the surge of pure affection he felt. “I know we’re still taking things slow, and that I still have a lot to prove, but Kim Seungmin: I love you so much. I… I thought you should know.”
Seungmin looked down, flustered, at their joined hands. There was just something about the way they fit together, knuckle to knuckle, that felt safe and exciting all at the same time. Seungmin had never thought he would end up here, in a consensual but still clandestine affair with his boss, like some insipid romance novel, but more than anything, he wanted to see where things could go with him and Chan. More than anything, he knew if anyone in the world could make this work, it would be the two of them.
So, there was only one thing he could do right now.
Seungmin reached out for his wineglass on the coffee table, motioning for Chan to do the same when he looked petulant that Seungmin moved away from him. “A toast,” Seungmin explained sardonically, clinking his glass against Chan’s, “to Minho and Jisung.”
“A toast,” Chan countered smoothly, “to all of us.”
Cheers.