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Dongsoo has no plans tonight. He spent all day cooped up in his office, and even ate lunch at his desk.
Doyoung hadn’t snuck into the building to bring him food, nor did he summon Dongsoo outside to eat out somewhere. Dongsoo didn’t even get so much as a text the whole day- besides Doyoung’s daily good morning message. But that’s a given.
The lunch dates are also a given. Texts throughout the day are a given, work updates or personal anecdotes or, if Dongsoo’s lucky, Doyoung might send a selfie.
(Two days ago, at about three in the afternoon, Dongsoo had received a picture of Doyoung posed at his desk, staring straight at the camera. Dongsoo had saved the image within seconds, and then texted Ohjae to ask if he had taken it. Ohjae had, in fact, been called into Doyoung’s office to take the picture of Doyoung that now greets Dongsoo everytime he unfolds his phone.)
(Thank God for Kwon Ohjae.)
A call in the late afternoon is a given. Dinner and drinks are a given.
But Doyoung has gone radio silent and now the sun has set and Dongsoo has absolutely nothing to do. The break in their solidified routine has Dongsoo sitting in his car, repetitively rubbing the raised keys on his phone.
He doesn’t ever ask Doyoung to… spend time together. That’s Doyoung’s job, to dictate their schedule and to pick Dongsoo up and to treat him right. To keep him busy. To keep his mind away from the life that has just fallen apart right behind him.
Dongsoo doesn’t want to go back to his apartment. He hasn’t taken down his wedding photo and his hand feels light without the ring it wore for so long. He really should look into selling the place, so that Doyoung is forced to either buy him a new, untainted home, or to finally invite him to move in.
With a bullet between his teeth, Dongsoo holds down the 1 on his phone to speeddial his partner. He raises it to his ear, ready to interrogate Doyoung about his silence.
But the bastard doesn’t answer. Doyoung lets the call ring through and doesn’t fucking pick up. Dongsoo clacks his phone shut and grips it in an angry fist, frustrated beyond belief.
This isn’t like him. Beneath Dongsoo’s anger, worry starts to boil. Something is off.
Dongsoo’s car quietly whirs around him, the engine on and ready to go. He considers speeding off straight to the mansion, but Doyoung might not even be there. He has no idea where his client is and he’s being ignored and it's pissing him off.
Is Doyoung doing something so important that Dongsoo’s call means nothing to him? Dongsoo had only recently gotten comfortable with being Doyoung’s object of affection, and being ghosted on a Friday night is… bad. It’s wrong, something is wrong. Something is certainly wrong. Doyoung wouldn’t do this to him.
Dongsoo peels open his phone again, his eyes falling to rest on the cropped, blurry picture of Doyoung at his desk. He wonders how many angles Ohjae tried before getting the perfect shot.
He holds down the 2 on his keypad this time.
“Attorney Han.” Ohjae picks up on the second ring like the good little minion he is. His obedience is admirable- Doyoung could learn a thing or two from him.
“He isn’t answering the phone.” Dongsoo tries to swallow down some of his frustration, but it's obvious in his voice.
Ohjae clears his throat- almost like he’s been caught. He knows something.
“There was some trouble at one of our clubs, so-”
“Which one?” Dongsoo cuts him off, switching the phone to his other ear and putting his car in drive. “Just send me the address.”
“It’s fine.” Ohjae is refusing him? Really? “He’s taking care of it.”
“I’m sure he is.” Dongsoo is fuming, he can feel red heat constricting his throat. “Text me the address.”
Ohjae goes silent. A few moments later, Dongsoo’s phone chimes with a text. He routes the way in his head, and starts to leave the law firm’s parking lot.
“Thank you Ohjae.” Some of Dongsoo’s rage subsides, now that he knows exactly where Doyoung is hiding from him. “I’ll be there soon.”
Dongsoo hangs up, and Ohjae pockets his phone. He should probably knock on the door to warn his boss that his keeper is on his way, but Doyoung is busy in there and absolutely won’t be happy about being interrupted.
It’s better to let Dongsoo do the barging in.
But when the lawyer does eventually turn the corner and storm up to the room Ohjae is guarding, his arm shoots out to block Dongsoo’s way.
Dongsoo glares at it, considering breaking Ohjae’s offending limb in half. He just narrows his eyes at the guy instead, huffing from running around the busy club. It’s quieter in this back hallway, at least, and Dongsoo can only barely hear the music thumping over the blood rushing in his ears.
“Move.”
Ohjae doesn’t. He blinks down at Dongsoo, keeping his mouth in a straight, unreadable line.
“He’s in a bad mood.” Ohjae warns, still not granting Dongsoo entry. Ohjae is too good at his job, he needs to loosen up a bit. He needs to step aside.
“Okay.” Dongsoo should push him out of the way, kick him once for good measure, maybe spit a curse at his face. He takes a deep breath, instead, hands in tight fists at his sides. “If you let me in, I can fix that.”
Ohjae moves out of his way, watching the victory wash over the lawyer. Ohjae doesn’t treat all of this as a competition, but Dongsoo still likes to. He flashes Ohjae a fake smile and then pushes into the private room.
Just as Dongsoo opens the door, a man cries out, falling to his knees with a hand covering his face. When he looks up at the intruder, his hand falls, and Dongsoo sees his nose bleeding from both nostrils, his lips and chin dripping with fresh blood.
The other two guys on the floor don’t look much better, knelt in front of Doyoung with cracked lips and trembling, bloody hands. Dongsoo missed most of the action- what a shame.
Doyoung looks the worst, though, his head turned at an awkward angle to where Dongsoo is standing dumbly in the open doorway, taking in the scene he has interrupted. Doyoung’s eyes are wide and bloodshot and he’s hunched over, his heavy, open mouthed breaths the only sound filling the space.
Dongsoo can’t hear the music anymore. Doyoung is staring at him, almost snarling, but won’t move an inch. Dongsoo can handle this. Easily.
He looks over the bloody pulps of men one more time. They look properly done in, surely they’ve learnt whatever lesson Doyoung was trying to teach them.
Dongsoo meets Doyoung’s violent eyes again, and tilts his head toward the poor men he’s been throwing around for God knows how long. Doyoung blinks at him and complies.
“Go.” Is all Doyoung says, not sparing the men at his feet a glance. They get the hint though, and struggle to their feet to evacuate the tense room.
For some reason, all three thugs bow to Dongsoo as they shuffle and limp past him. He doesn’t return the sentiment.
The door quietly shuts, and the two partners are left alone. The room is stuffy and Doyoung is still panting, still staring daggers at Dongsoo.
His bloody anger resides, though. Either because he successfully relieved his stress with his fists, or because of Dongsoo’s silent, weighty arrival. Doyoung finally moves, flopping onto the empty couch circling half of the room, his limbs and head heavy.
Doyoung pours himself a drink, and Dongsoo notices that there are two bottles on the otherwise empty table. One of them has already been emptied, and the second is close to meeting the same fate.
Oh. There’s another glass, too, other than the one Doyoung is throwing back and refilling. There’s an empty, spotless, completely untouched glass identical to Doyoung’s sitting on the table right next to the tall bottles of liquor.
Doyoung leans back against the sofa, his right arm resting over the back of it. The same invitation as always.
Dongsoo surprises them both when he actually accepts the offer, slinking over to the empty spot next to his client and molding himself to Doyoung’s side. Tipsy heat is radiating from Doyoung and he’s warm to the touch. His face is tinted red, too. Dongsoo can smell the whiskey on his breath.
Even Doyoung’s neck is flushed. And defenseless. Dongsoo swallows.
“You’re drunk.” Dongsoo breaks the silence between them with the observation, and Doyoung just stares at him. He twirls the drink in his hand and Dongsoo’s eyes dart to it. There’s blood on his fingers.
“I had some men to take care of.”
“I saw that.” Dongsoo presses his cheek into Doyoung’s bicep, and it makes his pout look more genuine- harder to resist. “You didn’t text me all day.”
“Yes I did.” Doyoung is captivated. “This morning.”
“Only this morning.” Dongsoo hadn’t even packed a lunch for today, expecting a date out somewhere. The noodles he had delivered to the law firm were soggy and pathetic and nowhere near the quality of dining Doyoung has accustomed him to. “Did you already have dinner?”
Doyoung turns his head to down the rest of his drink, and then reaches to discard the glass on the table. So he hasn’t eaten.
“I’ll tell Ohjae to order something.” Dongsoo is digging out his phone to text their henchman. “Any cravings?”
Doyoung looks down to peek at Dongsoo’s phone, and sees his own face staring back up at him. His stomach turns a bit, and he can only get his words out when Dongsoo looks up at him, expecting.
“Anything is fine.” Doyoung hasn’t had an appetite all day. He’d like to slice Dongsoo’s skin into thin, raw strips. “Seafood.”
“Seafood…” Dongsoo whispers to himself, relaying the request to Ohjae. He almost immediately gets an affirmative reply. Ohjae is just too good to be true.
Dongsoo tucks his phone back into his jacket to look back up at his partner. Doyoung already looks better, the whites of his eyes are brighter and his jaw isn’t as tight. Some food will fix him right up.
“You could’ve gone to a batting cage.” Dongsoo feels Doyoung’s arm fall over his shoulder, his long fingers pinching the fabric of Dongsoo’s suit.
“Those fuckers deserved it.” Doyoung’s touch finds the back of Dongsoo’s neck, and he combs his hand up through his lawyer’s hair. “How was work?”
“Slow.” Dongsoo deflects Doyoung’s attempt to change the subject. “You could have invited me, at least.”
Doyoung considers him carefully. Dongsoo has gone through so many beautiful changes since his brief sentence to the container. Now here he is, curled up at Doyoung’s side, guilting him for not being involved in the night’s bloody violence.
Doyoung wants to ask if he’s serious, but there’s no need. The lounging lawyer reaches for Doyoung’s hand, pulling it away from the curve of his skull. He looks it over, scans the dried blood across his knuckles and down the side of his palm. Dongsoo licks his own thumb and then rubs it across Doyoung’s hand, clearing it of the stain.
“I’ll invite you.” Doyoung whispers, his hands tingling. “Next time.”
Dongsoo hums, reaching for Doyoung’s other hand. He licks his thumb again, and scrubs the blood off of his partner’s skin. Then, Dongsoo holds both of Doyoung’s big, bloodfree hands between his and raises the knot of fingers to his face.
He presses a soft kiss across the knuckles on Doyoung’s right hand. His wrist is probably sore- Dongsoo rubs his thumb under Doyoung’s palm, across the thin skin of his bare wrist. He can feel Doyoung’s raised, actively pumping veins.
“Do you know how to break a finger?” Doyoung suddenly asks, shattering the fragile mood. Dongsoo looks up at him, half disappointed, and shakes his head. “Do you want to learn?”
Without waiting for a response, Doyoung cradles one of Dongsoo’s hands. He turns it over, Dongsoo’s palm facing down toward the sliver of free space between them.
Doyoung pushes his lawyer’s fingers back, enough for each of them to be pointing upwards.
“They can bend pretty far on their own.” Doyoung starts to explain, applying more pressure to prove his point. “It doesn’t hurt, right?”
Dongsoo shakes his head, completely at ease. His fingers are almost at a perfect 90° angle, but they don’t even ache- Doyoung’s touch is gentle.
“If you want to break them like this,” he presses a bit harder, and a pang of pain reaches down to Dongsoo’s straining wrist, “you have to do it quick.”
Dongsoo gasps when Doyoung jerks to wrap his grip around only Dongsoo’s ring finger.
“From this angle, at least.” Doyoung doesn’t let go of him. “Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” Dongsoo squeaks. He lets out a huff of air when Doyoung releases his practiced grip.
“Hold my wrist.” Doyoung holds his hand out, and Dongsoo coils his fingers around the thinnest part of Doyoung’s arm. His clutch doesn’t reach all the way around.
“If someone grabs you like this.” Doyoung uses his free hand to tug at Dongsoo’s thumb. “You can pull down and away.”
Dongsoo grits his teeth to avoid hissing in pain when Doyoung twists his thumb outward. He doesn’t try to pull his hand away- it doesn’t hurt that bad.
“Or…” Doyoung releases his thumb to pull at Dongsoo’s pinky. That hurts, and Dongsoo can’t hold back the quiet noise he makes. Doyoung zeroes in on the sound, but doesn’t let up. “You still have to be quick with it.” Doyoung breathes hot air over their tangled fingers. “If you want to break it.”
“Did you break those three guys’ fingers?” Dongsoo’s question is strained.
Doyoung slowly lets Dongsoo’s pinky fall back into place. Dongsoo keeps his grip for a drawn out moment before dropping his hand between them.
“No.” Doyoung stretches his arm back out to drape around Dongsoo’s shoulders. “I just hit them. One of them lost a tooth.” Now that he’s thinking about it, that guy might have left his tooth behind. Doyoung will have to check for it before they leave.
Dongsoo presses back into Doyoung’s lean muscle, and plants a flat, steadying hand on Doyoung’s chest. The vest he’s wearing is one of Dongsoo’s favorites- it fits Doyoung perfectly, hugs him just right around his sharp edges.
“I’ll tag along next time.” Dongsoo decides, squinting up at his partner. He’s still warm. And comfortable. “Don’t shut me out,” Dongsoo digs a finger into Doyoung’s rib cage, “Even if you’re in a bad mood.”
Doyoung pulls his lawyer to his chest, snaking both of his arms tight and secure around Dongsoo. He kisses his lawyer’s temple, a silent promise.
But too vague for Dongsoo’s taste. He pushes away from Doyoung’s cushiony chest just enough to scramble for one of his big hands. He squishes it between them, and forcibly intertwines their pinkies.
Doyoung twists his finger against Dongsoo’s, sealing the deal with a pointy smile.
Two knocks sound on the door. They regretfully peel away from each other, but Doyoung keeps his arm tucked behind Dongsoo’s lazy, resting head.
“Come in.”
It’s just Ohjae. He’s coming in carrying in their dinner- thank God. Ohjae is just the best.
“Have you eaten?” Dongsoo asks, still comfortably leaning into Doyoung’s warmth, while Ohjae spreads out the dishes for them.
Ohjae looks up, avoiding Doyoung’s gaze but meeting Dongsoo’s. Because of his boss’ daylong shitty, awful mood, Ohjae didn’t get the chance to sneak out for lunch. He was planning on heating up old leftovers at home.
“Not yet.” Ohjae goes back to opening containers for them.
Dongsoo elbows Doyoung in the stomach, begging him to pick up on the notion. He just snaps his head down to check Dongsoo over, confused at the attack. Dongsoo nods toward Ohjae squatting across from them, mouthing something that Doyoung miraculously deciphers.
“You,” Doyoung starts, but wavers when Ohjae looks up at his voice, “You can stay.”
“Yes.” Ohjae unboxes the rest of their food. It smells delicious. He stands, satisfied with the presentation, and makes for his exit. “I’ll be right outside, hyungnim.”
“Ohjae.” Dongsoo stops him on his way to the door. “Eat with us.”
Ohjae freezes. Eat with them. Share dinner with his bosses. Is Dongsoo angry that Ohjae didn’t let him in right away? Is he trying to get his revenge? He scans the lawyer’s face, but the guy looks perfectly content. He isn't shy about being snuggled up to his boss, and isn't bothered by Ohjae’s intense, calculating eyes.
His gaze darts to Doyoung, and he finds his boss looking equally sated. The weight Doyoung had been wearing since early this morning seems to have lifted- Dongsoo really had fixed it, he’d managed to flip Doyoung’s mood on its head incredibly quickly. Beating those poor guys had certainly helped, too. Dongsoo came at the right time.
Quietly, carefully, Ohjae approaches, either accepting Dongsoo’s offer or following his orders. He walks all the way around it to sit at the head of the table, giving the two enough room to roll around if they need to. He keeps his hands in his lap, staring at the various cuts of fish he’d gotten delivered.
Ohjae’s stomach audibly rumbles. It solidifies the guilt that was planted in Doyoung’s own gut- he’s a fool for starving his boys all day. He won’t let it happen again. Next time they have a lunch date, Doyoung will at least order for Ohjae, too. He can’t sacrifice the sanctity of their lunches, though, so Ohjae might have to take his food back to the office.
“Let’s eat.” Dongsoo brings the room back to life, snapping both of the criminals out of their heads to turn at his words. They both look horribly famished.
With their attention, the lawyer rips open a pair of chopsticks. He makes obvious eye contact with Doyoung when he pulls the wood apart with a loud snap.
The sound travels straight up Doyoung’s spine, and he’s jumpstarted into action.
“Eat.” Doyoung orders, handing Ohjae his own cutlery. “And help me finish this off.” He points toward the half emptied bottle of liquor he had been nursing alone.
Ohjae grabs the bottle first. Doyoung knocks his own empty glass in his friend’s direction, offering it to him. Ohjae notes it, but reaches over the table, aiming for the lawyer’s glass.
“Oh.” Dongsoo scrambles to raise the cup so Ohjae can actually fill it. “Thank you.”
Ohjae nods, pouring out what's left of the bottle for himself and raising it in the lawyer’s direction. A soft tink sounds from their cheer, and they both drink.
Doyoung watches, his mouth full and his mind at quiet ease. He can’t even remember what had put him in such a bad mood. It probably wasn’t too important.