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“You know you can just have Jeongin bring you coffee,” said Chan, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice, completely secure in his position. Which he was, in terms of both employment and friendship, and which Changbin was glad for, but he was more glad for it when Chan wasn’t taking advantage of said security to rib him.
“Taking small breaks throughout the day can actually increase productivity, you know,” Changbin sniffed.
Chan snorted. “Productivity.”
“Hey! I work hard!” Just because he was a self-admitted nepo baby didn’t mean Changbin didn’t take his job seriously. Solid marketing with a backbone of integrity was something he strived to maintain. “Yah, shouldn’t you be thanking me for helping you get your steps in? Keeping your circulation fresh? Hyung?”
“Changbinnie~” Chan sing-sung as the elevator doors closed, and Changbin was pretty sure the CCTVs didn’t have sound but he would prefer if Chan had a little more discretion, “it’s okay to have a crush, Changbinnie-yah~”
“You’re one to talk,” Changbin muttered, and elbowed Chan in the ribcage for good measure. Not hard enough for the level of dramatics Chan gave his oof, though. “And besides, you remember what happened last time Jeongin brought us coffee. My mom will be so mad if I can’t give her grandchildren, you know.”
“Nah, she just wants you to be happy,” said Chan as the elevator dinged to the ground floor. “As long as you let her spoil you. You and your sister are enough.”
Changbin’s throat swelled a little, and he sniffed as quietly as he could. Chan was such a bastard.
The coffee counter their company contracted was situated towards the back of the entrance area, past reception and near the stairs and out of the way enough that the line wouldn’t obstruct the morning rush. One could wait for their latte next to the fountain and potted plants in the light filtering through the floor to several-floors-up-ceiling and enjoy a moment of peace and feeling successful. One could also chat with the usual barista, whose multitasking made Changbin feel a bit of jealous admiration. He made Changbin feel a couple other things, as well, and think some things, not that that was any of Bang Chan’s business. Changbin would’ve like to make it HR’s business, but that would necessitate Kim Seungmin first agreeing to dinner, and— well. Seo Changbin wasn’t a coward, but what if he made Seungmin uncomfortable by approaching him for something besides coffee? Changbin would quit his job before making someone uncomfortable like that.
“Ya, Han Jisung!” Chan yelled over to reception, and Changbin swiveled his head to look just as Han Jisung jumped and guiltily pretended like he hadn’t just been blatantly on his phone and not doing his job.
“Ah, hyung, I was just checking the weather,” Jisung whined, and Changbin wished he could’ve been annoyed instead of fond at the flagrant lie. But he was fond, and besides, the head of HR was Lee Minho. Han Jisung wasn’t going anywhere.
“Yeah?” said Chan, the corner of his mouth quirked up, “when’s the rain supposed to start?”
“In twenty minutes,” said Jisung, and he would’ve almost been believable if it wasn’t a perfectly clear, cloudless day.
“Better get the umbrella bags ready, then,” Chan told him cheerfully, and Changbin graciously pretended not to see Jisung flip him off. Chan didn’t, but Chan just laughed.
Behind the counter, Kim Seungmin wasn’t on his phone, even though it was early afternoon and they were the only ones in the lobby. Changbin wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but it looked efficient and productive, slender wrists and long fingers moving with economical precision. He’d once tried to guess at some step in Seungmin’s espresso process (espresscess. Esprocess?), aimed to sound casual and in-the-know, and the laugh he got at his efforts was something he recalled often. A muscle memory of a memory.
Seungmin didn’t greet them as they approached the counter. He knew they were there, Changbin knew from experience, but he didn’t say anything even as Changbin slowed his stride, then stopped, and finally leaned his forearms onto the counter. Seungmin just kept on bustling around, ignoring them, and as the silence drew to the point of incredulousity Chan started giggling. If Changbin didn’t know any better, he’d think Seungmin took that as encouragement– and maybe Changbin didn’t know any better, because Seungmin kept ignoring them and Chan’s giggles got louder and louder.
Finally, by the time Changbin had shuffled himself around multiple enough to make sure that all his arm and chest muscles were as pushed up and bulging as they could feasibly be and Chan’s giggles died down, Seungmin turned to the ordering counter and didn’t even bother feigning surprise as he said, “Can I help you, Director Seo?”
Chan’s giggles burst out anew. Changbin breathed in through his nose, willing casualness through the warmth blooming in his cheeks as Seungmin stared at him levelly, entirely without deference. His eyes were more than lovely enough to get away with it. “Yes. I told you, call me hyung.”
Seungmin didn’t respond, just arched one eyebrow. And waited.
Changbin– folded. There was having principles, and there was knowing you weren’t going to win the game that you didn’t even know the rules to. “And a latte. Please.” Right, Chan was with him. He turned to give his cheeks a break. “You want anything, hyung?”
“I’m good,” said Chan, audibly through a shit-eating grin.
“What kind of milk for the latte?” Seungmin asked, as if Changbin didn’t order the same thing multiple times a week.
“Regular is fine, thank you.”
Usually you paid for your coffee and then waited, but Seungmin didn’t cue him for the total, just went right to pulling the espresso shot and doing– whatever to the milk, which meant Changbin got to look at him from this angle for a bit. The neatly tied apron hinted that there was, indeed, a physical body under the oversized clothes, slender and pale from spending his daylight hours in the lobby and making fun of Changbin’s workout routine when Changbin tried to bring it up. Changbin could probably pick him up, and Seungmin’s long legs wouldn’t even dangle if he wrapped them around Changbin’s hips–
“Latte for Director Seo,” Seungmin intoned, pushing the to-go cup at him, lid already covering whatever latte art may or may not have existed underneath. Maybe it was a heart. It would probably be shaken around by the time Changbin got to his desk, but he could check in the elevator, if he was very careful–
Seungmin had handed him his card back and was already turning around to clean up when Chan stepped forward, squinting down at the ipad register receipt screen. “Wait a minute. What latte costs thirty thousand won?”
Thirty thousand? That sounded like a lot for a latte, but maybe he’d started using organic milk or something–
“It’s the same price as always, hyung,” said Seungmin, casual as he wiped off a– hey, since when was Chan hyung and not Changbin?
“Oblivious idiot tax?”
Seungmin grinned. It hit Changbin like a punch to the stomach. “Like I said, hyung,” said Seungmin, carefully setting his pretense down, “same price as always.”
The penny dropped just as Seungmin darted out from behind the counter, but Chan was already moving, bolting after Seungmin and leaving Changbin to process by himself.
Was Seungmin… flirting with him?
There was a yelp that turned into a helpless laugh, and Chan returned, practically wagging his tail as he brought Seungmin back slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Seungmin wasn’t even trying to escape, just whining for hyung to put him down already. Changbin’s entire body felt flushed, his pulse beginning to drum between his legs.
“Where do you want this little thief, Binnie-yah?” Chan asked cheerfully, and Changbin had the distinct realization that whatever professionalism was, Seungmin bolted over the line– maybe a while ago.
“Your stupid shoulder is in my sternum,” Seungmin grumbled, and Chan wiggled them both to make him wail.
“You can set him down, hyung,” said Changbin, and Chan obeyed. This time, when Seungmin made to flee, Changbin was ready, his hand flashing out to wrap around that bony wrist. A slight twist, and Seungmin stumbled back towards him with a pained laugh.
“Kim Seungmin,” said Changbin pleasantly, and Seungmin just grinned down at him, “care to explain yourself?”
“Maybe,” said Seungmin, pulling away just enough to make Changbin deepen the wrist-lock, and stepping back in with another soft laugh that roared like blood in Changbin’s ears, “if we go somewhere private. Hyung.”
Changbin blinked, arousal stretching and flexing its muscles. Chan hummed, typing something on his phone, then tucked it away.
“Discipline should be issued in private,” Seungmin added, those eyes glittering, “in your office.”
Changbin did not need coffee. He needed Seungmin up against a wall. Or up against his bodyguard.
As Changbin walked Seungmin to the elevator, Chan giggling along behind him, Han Jisung had his phone at his ear as he peeked out over the granite bar, saying, “– yeah, all three of them, I kind of think Seungminnie might die– shit, hyung, gotta go, call you back– “
Well. At least Minho would have the paperwork ready for them.