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“You’re a professional,” Mingi tells himself. He’s alone in the studio, the idol he’s working with gone for a bathroom break. “You’re a professional, and you’re going to behave like one.”
“PD-nim? Is everything all right?”
Mingi nearly yelps when Yunho is back sooner than he expected. Great, that’s just what he needs - the idols catching him talking to himself. Well, producers are allowed to be weird. He’ll get through it.
“Yunho-ssi. Are you ready to start again?”
“I’m sorry to keep you here so late, PD-nim,” Yunho says. “I just want to make sure I get this just right, and I don’t know when I’ll have time again.”
Frankly, Mingi is amazed that Yunho has time now. His managers booked him for a recording session, sure, but that time slot ended an hour ago and Yunho is still here. It’s one of the worst times of the year, too, with festivals and award shows practically back to back. It might be late, but Mingi is more surprised that no one has come to find Yunho and drag him off to another rehearsal or prerecording.
“It’s fine,” Mingi says. “I work late hours anyway, you’re not keeping me.”
“I didn’t want to keep you away from someone, especially right before Christmas,” Yunho says.
Is that - is he fishing? No, he can’t be. That’s just Mingi’s wishful thinking.
“It’s just me and my cat,” Mingi says anyway. “And she has an automatic feeder, so she won’t mind too much.”
“I appreciate it anyway, PD-nim,” Yunho says. “I really want to get this part right, and I’m not happy with it yet.”
Mingi gestures him back to the booth, and Yunho steps inside. The part Yunho has been working on was perfectly fine an hour ago, and plenty of idols would have left it there. Yunho, though, wanted to play with the tone and the phrasing, and has been experimenting ever since. If the version of an hour ago was fine, the version now is definitely better.
Mingi respects that kind of dedication. Yunho has improved so much since he first started working with Yunho’s group a few years ago. He wasn’t a natural singer, but he’s making up for it with sheer hard work until you can hardly tell he had never sung until he was signed as a trainee.
Mingi works with a lot of groups and a lot of idols, and he doesn’t dislike any of them, but Yunho might be his favorite. It’s been that way since Yunho first appeared in his studio, bowing and promising to work hard, all with that look in his eye and hint of a grin that invited Mingi in on the joke.
And, sure, Mingi maybe has a little bit of a crush. Yunho in person isn’t as hot as he is in the album photos - no three dimensional human being can compete with pictures put together with that much attention - but somehow unstyled Yunho, with his soft hair and big eyes and tendency to dress like he put on the first black hoodie he grabbed, is even worse for Mingi’s composure. He’s still tall and charming, and he’s got a very physical style of singing that means that Mingi is constantly looking at the way his giant hands move.
Mingi did jerk off once thinking about Yunho’s hands. He’s not proud of it, but it did happen. And when he goes out to pick up, he usually goes after tall guys, but everyone likes a tall guy. That’s not proof of some kind of fixation or anything.
The entire point of idols is to make you fall for them, Mingi reminds himself fiercely. He’s not special for having a crush on one of them. He’s seen experienced producers totally lose their train of thought when an idol tuns the charisma on.
So really, it’s only natural that Mingi is losing his mind after having multiple hours of Yunho crooning in his ear. It’s a love song, because of course Mingi is cursed like that. Yunho’s group doesn’t do so many of these, tending more towards the loud and heavy-hitting, so it makes sense that Yunho would feel unsure of what tone he should be going for.
Hence the experimentation that Mingi is suffering through.
“Yunho-ssi,” Mingi calls after another few rounds, when he can hear the strain starting to creep up in Yunho’s voice. “You need to take a break.”
Yunho pouts at him - fuck, why is that so cute - but he obediently leaves the booth and sits on Mingi’s couch. He looks so disappointed that Mingi can’t help himself.
“Let’s listen back to the best takes,” he says, “and then after a break, you can have two more tries. Just two! Or your managers will kill me when you have to go to Gayo and can’t sing.”
“No one can hear you at those things anyway,” Yunho mutters rebelliously.
It’s not like Mingi doesn’t agree - the mixing at the average festival is not up to his standards - but he can’t encourage one of his company’s idols to behave so riskily. “Sit here and I’ll show you what we’ve got so far,” he says, pointing Yunho into the chair at his elbow so he’ll be able to see the screen.
He realizes that might have been a mistake as soon as Yunho sits down. He’s so close like this. Mingi can practically feel the heat radiating off his body. He can definitely smell Yunho’s cologne. It’s nice, even if it makes him want to lean in and get a better smell. He doesn’t know why Yunho bothered when he isn’t dressed up or styled.
“I like your nails,” Yunho says.
Mingi looks down at his hand where it’s resting on the mouse. He’d painted his nails black last week, like some kind of emo kid. It had been kind of a crappy job to start with, and now it’s chipping around the tips. He supposes that just adds to the punk look. “Thanks,” he says.
Yunho has perfect nails, of course - long but not too long, carefully manicured and shaped. Mingi drags his eyes away from them and clicks on the first version he wants to play for Yunho.
Yunho listens carefully to all of them, then shakes his head.
“Mingi-nim,” he says, “can you help me pick? Which one is most romantic?”
His crush is here, sitting too close to him, calling him by name and asking him which is most romantic. Mingi’s in hell.
“I like the tone on the second one here, but the phrasing is more interesting on this one.” He plays the tracks for Yunho, because he’s a professional who takes good notes even when he’s losing his mind over what has to be just ordinary friendliness.
Yunho nods. “Play them again?” he asks, clearly thinking, and Mingi does. Yunho listens with his eyes closed, mouthing the words, thinking about how he wants to tackle the next try.
“Only two more!” Mingi yells as Yunho goes back to the booth.
Yunho nails it on the first try, because of course he does. He demands the second take anyway, but he’s shaking his head as he pulls the headphones off. “That wasn’t as good,” he says.
“I could have played them for you in there,” Mingi says, when Yunho takes the chair next to him again. Is he closer, or is Mingi imagining things?
“It’s cozier out here,” Yunho says, giving him the big eyes that appear in so many of his selfies on Twitter.
Which Mingi follows, but only in a professional way.
He plays Yunho back the best versions of his parts, then lets him listen to the rough cut of the song that he’s been assembling as the group records. It’s a good song, if Mingi is allowed to say that about a song he wrote. He wanted to write a song that would really let Yunho shine - along with all the members, of course.
“You did a good job,” he tells Yunho. “It sounds really good.”
Do Yunho’s cheeks go a little pink, or is that just Mingi’s imagination? Maybe it’s the temperature. It does feel very warm in here.
“Thanks, PD-nim,” he says. “Mingi-ssi.”
“You worked really hard,” Mingi says. “I hope your manager isn’t mad at me for how long I kept you here.”
Yunho takes a deep breath. “Mingi-ssi,” he says. “I really appreciate how much you helped me. Can I take you out to dinner to apologize for keeping you late?”
“I was going to be here anyway,” he mumbles. He can’t meet his eyes, not when Yunho is going to see all his stupid longing all over his face.
Yunho reaches out and grabs both of his hands, brushing his thumbs against the backs. “Mingi-ssi,” he says again.
Yunho has really nice hands. They’re warm and soft - he’s clearly following his winter moisturizing routine. Mingi’s thinking about it so hard that it takes him a minute to realize that he should have pulled his hands back rather than letting Yunho just keep holding them.
And he’s still holding them and he’s looking at Mingi with those big hopeful eyes and, fuck, Mingi can’t take this. “You can’t do this,” he chokes out. “You can’t just - flirt with me like that.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
Mingi closes his eyes. He doesn’t know what he did that let Yunho see all his feelings, but he can’t stand being this close to what he wants. “Please don’t make fun of me.”
Yunho finally lets go of his hands and Mingi has a moment of relief. He’s going to go home and either die or shamefully jerk off about this. But it only lasts for a moment, because then Yunho’s hands are on his face and Yunho’s lips are on his.
Mingi’s eyes fly open at the shock. It’s a terrible kiss, Yunho clumsy and Mingi startled. But when Yunho pulls back, Mingi can see just how scared he looks, just like Mingi feels.
“I’m not making fun of you,” Yunho says, his voice broken.
“Me?” Mingi says. “But - you could have anyone, and I’m just me.”
“I don’t want anyone, I want you,” Yunho says. He bumps their foreheads together gently. “Now will you let me take you to dinner or not? It’s Christmas.”
“Yes,” Mingi says. “Yes to dinner. Yes to everything.”
Yunho laughs, and kisses him again. This time they’re better at it.