Work Text:
The bar had only just opened for the evening, yet the room was already buzzing with soft chatter and the clinking of glassware. Paper moved between the tables with a rag in hand, dutifully wiping down surfaces and taking early orders. Each tray of requests he gathered made its way back to the polished counter, where his boyfriend OJ stood alongside Bomb, both of them effortlessly mixing and pouring drinks like they were born to do it.
Paper wasn’t nearly as skilled with cocktails, and truthfully, OJ had made it clear that he shouldn’t interfere behind the bar, this was a professional, upscale lounge, after all. Guests came here for impeccable service, not to catch the staff sneaking off for a kiss in the stockroom. Still… Paper couldn’t help himself. Even while polishing the same spotless table for the third time, his eyes drifted again and again toward OJ, admiring how sharp he looked, how smooth his hands were as he shook a drink, how easy his smile seemed when chatting with a guest.
Tonight, Paper was hopelessly entranced, his gaze locked on OJ like gravity itself tethered him there.
“Uh—Paper?”
A sharp snap of fingers jolted him back. He blinked and turned toward Pepper, who stood next to him with a knowing scowl.
“H-Huh? Oh, sorry!” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, a faint blush already creeping up his cheeks.
Pepper crossed her arms. “Were you staring at OJ again? Seriously, Paper… you’re going to distract him. Do you realize how unfair it looks to everyone else? You get special treatment just for being the boss’s boyfriend. And don’t even get me started on when you two vanish halfway through a shift and leave the rest of us to cover.”
Paper’s blush deepened, but instead of looking chastened, he clasped his hands dramatically to his chest. “I know, I know! But how am I supposed to not look at him? He’s just so… dreamy…” His eyes inevitably wandered back to OJ, and this time, OJ happened to glance his way. The tiniest smirk tugged at his lips before he smoothly looked back down at the drink he was pouring, as if nothing had happened but Paper nearly melted right on the spot.
Pepper groaned. “Ugh, unbelievable. Do you want to risk him losing his job? Someone could easily report him for unprofessional behaviour, or worse, the whole place could get sued.”
“What?! No way!” Paper gasped, spinning toward her with wide eyes. “It’s not like we’re doing anything that bad… just a little glance here, a smile there…” He pouted, then jabbed a finger at her accusingly. “And you don’t get to lecture me, missy. I’ve seen you staring at Salt when she comes in—and she’s a customer!”
Pepper shot him a glare. “Yeah, well, that’s different. People date customers all the time, dingus. That’s normal. Dating your boss? That’s like, totally against the rules. You’re an employee, Paper. You shouldn’t even be with him in the first place.”
Paper gasped in mock offense, hand flying to his heart. “Take that back! You sound like one of those boring HR pamphlets! I love him, and I don’t care what you say!”
From across the bar, OJ glanced over again, his eyes glinting just long enough for Paper to catch it. This time, it was deliberate—an amused, subtle look that said, I can hear you, you know. Paper’s knees nearly gave out, and Pepper groaned all over again.
“Ugh, whatever… just try not to get too distracted, Paper. I’m warning you!” Pepper huffed, snapping at him one last time before storming off to serve another table.
Paper followed her with his eyes, only to notice where she was headed, straight toward Salt, who had just walked in and slid gracefully into her usual spot. Of course. Salt only ever came here to bat her lashes at OJ, even though it was no secret Paper and OJ were together. It was like she thought sheer persistence would wear him down.
What Salt didn’t know, but Paper very much did, was that Pepper had a massive crush on her so-called best friend. Honestly, Paper kind of hoped Pepper would hurry up and confess already. Then maybe she’d stop worrying about OJ and let Paper enjoy being hopelessly in love with his boyfriend in peace.
Sighing, he shook himself out of his thoughts and gathered up the slips of drink orders from his tray, heading over to the bar where OJ and Bomb were holding court.
“Alright, here are the orders.” Paper placed them carefully on the polished counter.
“Thank you, Papeypie~,” OJ crooned, taking the slip directly from his hand, his voice low and smooth like velvet.
Bomb raised a brow and gave OJ a very unimpressed are you kidding me look before promptly launching into an elaborate bottle-flip routine for the guests at the bar seats, drawing cheers. He’d long since given up trying to stop OJ from teasing his boyfriend during work hours.
Paper’s cheeks turned pink in an instant. He stifled a giggle, pressing his fingers to his lips before leaning against the bar bench with a smirk. “OJJJ… you know you shouldn’t be calling me that.”
“What, afraid Suitcase will care?” OJ teased, tipping his head toward where Suitcase was perched at the bar beside Baseball.
Both of them were already stifling laughter, clearly enjoying the show. “Honestly, it’s adorable. Don’t mind us.” Suitcase admitted.
“Well… I guess not,” Paper admitted, grinning like an idiot. His heart thumped so hard it nearly drowned out the bustle of the bar. Pepper was just being dramatic, right? Nobody really cared if he and OJ got a little flirty while working. Not unless they went completely overboard. Which… okay, maybe they did sometimes.
OJ set the slip aside, leaning casually on the bar so his eyes locked with Paper’s. For a heartbeat too long, the busy lounge seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them staring, grinning, basking in that familiar warmth.
Paper’s breath caught. He leaned forward on the bar without even realizing it, utterly spellbound.
“Uhh. OJ?”
The voice snapped the moment in half. Baseball, looking more amused than annoyed, “Our… drinks?”
OJ blinked, straightened up, and coughed into his fist. “Oh! Right, sorry. One sec.”
Paper nearly toppled backward off the bar, swinging on his heels with an awkward laugh and a little cough of his own. His face burned. He really had to stop getting OJ in trouble like this. But ohh, it was just so hard when OJ kept looking at him like that.
OJ was back at it, moving with practiced ease as he spun bottles, poured cocktails, and slid Baseball and Suitcase their drinks with that effortless charm of his. Paper hovered nearby with his tray, waiting patiently, though it wasn’t OJ who ended up helping him, it was Bomb. With a cool flourish, Bomb finished off the rest of Paper’s ticket and set the glasses neatly on his tray.
“Orders up,” Bomb said simply, and Paper flashed him a grateful smile before scurrying off to deliver them.
He weaved between tables with practiced steps, setting drinks down one by one, but his eyes kept drifting toward the bar. Every time OJ leaned over to hand off a glass, or tipped his head back with that warm, easy smile… Paper’s heart skipped a beat. He just couldn’t stop looking. The only thing keeping him grounded was the clock, which he checked every couple minutes, waiting for the hands to finally move toward OJ’s break. That was when he could really talk to his boyfriend without sneaking glances or whispered exchanges.
“Uh, Paper?”
The voice snapped him out of it. He turned, tray in hand, to find Nickel standing behind him with another tray, balanced on his head.
“You know staring at the clock isn’t gonna make time move faster,” Nickel deadpanned.
Paper’s face flushed. “I-I know that! I just…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nickel cut him off, lowering his head carefully so Balloon could pluck a drink off the tray. It wasn’t anything alcoholic, just a simple cranberry juice, but Balloon took it like it was a prize.
Nickel slid onto the seat beside him, and without missing a beat, Balloon rested his elbow on Nickel’s head, leaning into him casually.
Paper stopped dead in his tracks, tray against his chest. “You guys are teasing me! Being all lovey in front of me like that!”
Nickel raised a brow. “Seriously? I’m literally just standing here. If anyone’s lovesick, it’s you.”
Balloon chuckled, swirling his drink. “Yeah, at least we wait until our break to flirt. You don’t see me fawning over Nickel all shift, do you?”
Paper gasped dramatically, crossing his arms. “No, but I see Nickel giving you those mushy looks constantly!”
Balloon perked up, smirking as he turned toward Nickel. “Oh? Do I get looks?”
Nickel’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Occasionally.” His voice was smooth, teasing, like he knew exactly how to get under Paper’s skin.
Balloon giggled, leaning closer. “Heh. I knew it.”
“Ugh!! Stop it!” Paper groaned, stomping one foot like a sulky kid. “Not fair! You’re both just rubbing it in.” He puffed his cheeks and whined, clearly getting more impatient by the second.
He turned sharply toward Balloon. “Okay, but seriously—how much longer until your break is over?!”
Balloon tilted his head back to check the clock on the wall, deliberately slow, dragging it out until Paper practically bounced on his toes. Finally, he hummed. “Mmm… about ten minutes.”
Paper groaned loudly, flopping his arms at his sides. “Ten minutes?! That’s forever!”
Nickel rolled his eyes, sipping from a glass of water. “You’re hopeless.”
The evening dragged on, and Paper’s patience was running dangerously thin. He stormed from table to table, polishing the surfaces with far more force than necessary, practically scrubbing the shine off them. Every few seconds his eyes darted up to the clock, watching the sluggish hands crawl forward. Any minute now, Balloon’s break would be over— any minute!
But Balloon? Oh, Balloon was taking his sweet time. He sat perched at the bar with Nickel, sipping his juice and looking smug as could be. Then, just to really drive the knife in, he leaned over and gave Nickel a long, soft kiss right in front of Paper, slow and deliberate like he knew Paper was watching. Which, of course, he did.
“Unbelievable…” Paper hissed under his breath, glaring daggers. His frustration only deepened when he risked a glance toward OJ, who, of course, was giving him one of those cheeky, flirty looks from behind the bar. Paper’s stomach fluttered, but instead of calming him down, it made him burn hotter. He wanted OJ now. Hurry up, Balloon!
Finally, Balloon stood up, and Paper’s heart leapt. Yes! Finally! …only for Balloon to casually detour toward Suitcase and Baseball, leaning on their table and striking up a conversation.
Paper nearly ripped the rag in half. “Are you kidding me?!” he hissed.
From behind the counter, OJ caught sight of his boyfriend’s irritated little pout. The way Paper kept glancing between the clock, Balloon, and himself was adorable. Needy, restless, fidgety—OJ could practically feel the longing radiating off him. Balloon was definitely dragging this out just to rile Paper up. Typical Balloon.
OJ set down the shaker and broke between the conversation. “Alright, Balloon. Break’s over.”
Balloon snapped his head up, feigning offense. “What? I still have four minutes!” He crossed his arms, puffing out his cheeks. Then, with a sly grin, he added, “You just wanna go on break so you can sneak off with Paper.”
Suitcase laughed into her drink, and Baseball smirked knowingly.
OJ arched a brow, planting his hands firmly on his hips. “I’m your boss. Which means—break time is over. Now.” His tone left no room for argument, though the teasing glint in his eyes gave him away.
“Oh, come on…” Balloon grumbled, dragging his feet as he moved behind the bar. “You two are disgustingly predictable anyway…”
OJ smirked triumphantly, slipping out from behind the counter. He strolled across the lounge with that cool confidence, weaving through tables until he reached the one Paper was pretending to clean for the third time.
“Heyyy, boyfriend~,” OJ teased, voice low and velvety. He slid up behind Paper and slipped his hands around his waist, fingers brushing lightly over his ‘hips.’
Paper squeaked, face instantly heating up. “OJJJ…” He laughed nervously, clutching the rag in his hand as he turned toward him. “Finally!”
“Impatient, were we?” OJ teased, leaning in close, “Couldn’t keep your eyes off me?”
Paper blushed furiously, pushing at his chest playfully. “M-Maybe I couldn’t! You were being so distracting over there…”
“Oh?” OJ smirked. “Distracting enough to make you stare all shift long?”
Paper pouted, but his grin betrayed him. “You were looking back too…”
“Of course I was.” OJ leaned in closer, his forehead brushing Paper’s. “Hard not to, when you look so cute sulking over a clock.”
Paper let out a tiny giggle, half hiding his face against OJ’s chest. “You’re gonna get us in trouble…”
“Mm. Maybe. But it’s worth it for a moment with you.”
Paper melted right into him, his frustration finally dissolving now that OJ was here, his arms warm and steady around him. Across the room, Balloon watched with an exaggerated gag. “Unbelievable.”
OJ didn’t waste another second. With a quick squeeze to Paper’s hand, he tugged him away from the tables, ignoring Balloon’s exaggerated eye-rolls and muttered complaints behind them. As they passed, Nickel glanced up from where he was finally enjoying his own break, narrowing his eyes into a withering glare. Paper shrank a little under the weight of it, but OJ only smirked and led him on, weaving through the back hallway until they slipped into the privacy of his office.
The door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the chatter of the lounge. In an instant, OJ had guided Paper toward the desk, gently but insistently lifting him up to sit on its polished surface. Paper’s legs swung nervously, but before he could say anything, OJ leaned in close, arms sliding around his ‘waist.’
Then their lips met—slow at first, then melting into something deliberate, hungry, impossible to mistake. Paper sighed softly against him. The kiss deepened, lips brushing, parting, meeting again, until they were both too lost in each other to care about much else.
“You’re so damn cute when you’re restless…” OJ murmured between kisses, his forehead brushing Paper’s, his breath warm and teasing. His lips traced the corner of Paper’s mouth, pulling another small laugh out of him before catching him in another kiss.
Paper squirmed slightly, hands sliding up around OJ. “You did that on purpose,” he accused softly, though his words were muffled by another kiss. “Making me wait… teasing me…”
“Of course I did,” OJ smirked, nipping playfully at his bottom lip. “You’re adorable when you pout.”
Paper’s blush deepened, and his laugh turned into a flustered giggle, though his grip only tightened around OJ. The whole day’s impatience melted away under the warmth of his touch, the kiss after kiss after kiss.
Still, OJ knew exactly how dangerous this was. Even as his hands roamed Paper’s sides, tugging him closer, the thought lingered in the back of his mind. They’d been caught sneaking off too many times already. The staff was annoyed, really annoyed… and if he kept setting this example, someone might actually quit. It was wildly unprofessional.
But with Paper’s lips on his, his laugh bubbling against OJ’s mouth, his eyes half-lidded with trust and affection… OJ couldn’t bring himself to care. Not now. Not when Paper looked at him like that.
“Just a few minutes,” OJ whispered against his lips, holding him tight. “They’ll survive without us.”
Paper smiled breathlessly, leaning in for another kiss, already lost in him.
Paper suddenly broke away from the kiss, a frown tugging at his lips as something clearly weighed on his mind.
“Balloon is such an asshole…” he muttered, pouting as he stared up at OJ. “Did you see what he was doing? He was deliberately annoying me today!”
OJ chuckled softly, brushing a thumb along Paper’s cheek. “I took care of it, sweetheart. Relax—”
But Paper’s expression only darkened into a full-on >:C glare, making OJ pause mid-lean.
“…What?” OJ leaned back, folding his arms as if bewildered.
“Don’t tell me to relax! It’s not fairrrr !” Paper huffed, his legs kicking lightly against the desk. “Why do Balloon and Nickel’s breaks always clash together?! Why do they get to spend time together while I’m stuck waiting for you?”
OJ sighed, but his smile lingered, amused by his boyfriend’s stubbornness. “Honey… their breaks don’t always clash. Nickel just starts his when Balloon has about ten minutes left. That’s hardly—”
“No!!” Paper cut him off, stamping his foot against the desk. “He always teases me about it! He rubs it in my face that he gets to spend time with Nickel. And they do it right in front of me, too! The kissing, the cuddling—ugh, it’s infuriating!”
OJ tilted his head, trying not to laugh at how red Paper’s cheeks were getting from the rant. “Well, if it helps… we spend way more time together than they do. Between shifts, after work, at home—you’re hardly being neglected.”
Paper wasn’t budging, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he pouted. “That’s not the point…”
OJ exhaled, then leaned down until his forehead bumped gently against Paper’s. “Listen, love… if I staggered their breaks so they never overlapped, they’d probably complain. Worse, they might even quit. And as much as I’d love to spoil you, we can’t afford to lose a bartender right now. Bomb and I can’t run the whole place by ourselves.”
“But… but…” Paper grumbled, his lips twitching like he wanted to argue but couldn’t quite find a comeback. His glare wavered, slipping into something sulky and defeated. “Hmph…”
He crossed his arms tighter, lower lip jutting out in the most dramatic pout he could muster.
OJ chuckled, leaning in to brush a kiss against his cheek. “Adorable.”
Paper huffed, turning his head with a stubborn little scoff. “Don’t ‘adorable’ me.”
OJ only smirked, pressing another kiss against his temple. “Too late.”
Paper leaned in again, their lips meeting with a needy urgency, and OJ didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss. His hands slid around Paper’s waist as he tilted his head, biting softly at Paper’s lower lip before slipping his tongue past, pushing insistently against Paper’s own. Their mouths moved together in a heated rhythm, tongues tangling and brushing as if neither wanted to give in, each kiss drawing them further under. Paper gripped the edge of the desk so tightly, trying to anchor himself as OJ pressed closer, holding him steady.
The office grew hot, quiet except for the soft gasps and muffled sounds between their kisses. OJ knew they were being reckless again, ducking away in the middle of a shift, leaving Bomb and Balloon to juggle the bar, letting the other staff shoulder the workload. But with Paper clutching him like this, kissing him like there was no tomorrow, it was hard to care.
Paper always seemed to get away with it. He got longer breaks than anyone else, got OJ’s full attention whenever he wanted, and though the staff rolled their eyes or muttered under their breath, nobody dared complain. OJ paid them well, kept the lounge running smoothly, and made sure they still got the breaks they wanted. For now, they tolerated it.
Minutes slipped by, five, ten, fifteen… until nearly twenty had gone, and the world outside OJ’s office was all but forgotten.
Then… knock, knock, knock.
The sharp rap on the door cut through the haze of their kisses. Neither of them stopped right away; Paper groaned and kissed OJ harder, desperate to keep the moment alive.
Between kisses, OJ called out, breathless, “Who is it?”
“I-I-It’s Bomb!” came the muffled voice from the other side, already tinged with irritation. “I-It’s my b-break time! Y-you gotta t-take over, boss!”
Paper groaned loudly into OJ’s mouth, kissing him deeper, refusing to let him go. “Just ignore him,” he whispered against OJ’s lips, kissing him again, harder this time.
OJ winced, torn between desire and duty. His hand slid up Paper’s cheek, reluctantly easing back, their lips parting with a heated gasp. “Papey…” he murmured, forehead pressed against his. “I have to go.”
“Nooo, stay with me…” Paper whined, tugging him back into another kiss, trying to trap him there with sheer stubbornness. His lips lingered on OJ’s, soft but desperate.
OJ kissed him back, once, twice, lingering—before pulling away with heavy breaths. “Sweetheart, I have to,” he whispered, voice gentle but firm. “Bomb can’t cover forever. If I don’t take over, the bar falls apart.”
Paper’s lips trembled into a pout, arms sliding around OJ’s neck as if clinging to keep him there. “I hate this part of the day…” he mumbled miserably.
OJ kissed the corner of his mouth tenderly. “I know. But I’ll make it up to you after shift, promise. Tonight, you’ll have me all to yourself.”
Paper sighed, his pout softening just a little, though his arms didn’t loosen. “You better…”
OJ smirked faintly, giving him one last peck before easing him off the desk. “I always do.”