Chapter Text
Keep Silent & Always Wonder's headquarters was a cathedral of glass and steel — sunlight spilling through vaulted windows, reflecting off polished floors, the hum of computers filling the air. On the operations floor, dozens of agents worked in clusters, trading data, prepping gear, and sipping coffee as though caffeine alone kept global security from crumbling.
At the center of the floor was the bullpen, and at the center of that were two women who, in very different ways, commanded attention.
Lingling Kwong sat at her desk in a crisp black suit, posture immaculate, black hair tied up in a practical ponytail. She was quiet, composed, the kind of person who could make silence feel louder than words. Agents passing by tended to lower their voices around her — not because she demanded it, but because her presence carried that natural weight. Ling was a field agent’s field agent: efficient, brilliant, impossible to rattle. In three years she had shown her team the kind of reliability that only came from a spine of steel and a mind that calculated escape routes before others even saw the trap.
Orm Kornnaphat, on the other hand, could have rattled the devil himself.
She leaned back in her chair at the desk across from Ling, booted feet propped up, typing one-handed while sipping an iced Americano with the other. Her long nails, painted a glossy pink, clicked against the keyboard as lines of code scrolled across her monitor at dizzying speed. She made hacking look child's play.
And, of course, she wasn’t watching her code at all. She was watching Ling. Her mind, as it often did, slipped back to their first day. Orientation week. She’d walked in too fast, nerves jangling, coffee cup in hand — and collided head-on with the one woman in the building who could make her heart stutter. Only to tip iced latte all down Ling’s immaculate white shirt.
Orm had stared for a beat, then threw her free hand up like she’d just discovered fire. “Right. New invention idea — self-cleaning shirts. I’ll get R&D on it. Until then, just… uh, stand very still for about three to five years while I work it out.”
Ling had only blinked once, unbothered, pulling a neatly folded cloth handkerchief from her pocket — not paper napkins, never wasteful. “Shirts can be replaced.”
Her voice was steady, her expression calm — but there had been a glimmer in her eyes, the faintest lift of an eyebrow. And then, almost as if indulging her, “Though self-cleaning fabric would be efficient.”
Orm had blinked, startled. Then she laughed, emboldened, leaning in with her most disarming grin. “Fine, then I’ll just buy you dinner instead. I promise I spill less food than coffee.”
Ling, serene as stone, had replied, “I doubt that.”
And somehow, Orm had been hooked ever since.
From the back of the orientation room, two other recruits had watched the entire exchange with poorly concealed delight.
“Did you see that?” Typhoon hissed, elbowing Chanya. “They’re either going to kill each other or get married.”
Chanya had already started writing in a little black notebook that she had whipped out from somewhere. “Married. Definitely married. Give it three months.”
“Three months?” Typhoon scoffed. “I’ll give it a week before someone ends up pinned against the copier.”
By the end of orientation week, half the rookie class had money in a pot, arguing over how long it would take before Ling and Orm finally cracked. Some said a week. Some said a month. One overconfident soul put down “by Friday.”
Three years later, the pot was legendary, the losers numerous, and the bet still very much alive.
Now, across the bullpen, Orm hid her gaze behind her coffee cup. Three years, and I’m still staring.
“Your tie’s crooked,” Orm said casually, sipping her drink.
Ling glanced down, fingers brushing the knot. “It isn’t.”
“It is,” Orm countered, eyes sparkling. “Not that it matters. Crooked looks good on you. Like… perfectly imperfect.”
Ling considered that. “I wasn’t aware imperfection could be perfect.”
Orm grinned. “Stick with me, and you’ll learn a lot of things you weren’t aware of.”
From the next row of desks, Analyst Narawan groaned audibly. “For god’s sake.”
Chanya smacked her arm, whispering back, “Shh, don’t interrupt. It’s like watching a very slow nature documentary. Will the stoic bodyguard notice the peacocking songbird? Tune in next decade.”
Ling, serene as ever, was as usual, deaf to the peanut gallery. She adjusted the stack of files on her desk until the corners aligned perfectly. “Nong Orm, is the server breach ready for testing?”
Orm spun back toward her monitor, fingers flying. “Already done. You’ll be striding into the enemy’s mainframe faster than I can order takeout. Which, by the way, we should do tonight. Thai or Japanese?”
Ling frowned slightly, confusion flickering across her otherwise perfect features. “You don’t eat dinner.”
Orm wagged her eyebrows. “I would if you eat with me."
Ling blinked once, visibly uncertain if she should continue. At Orm’s expectant nod, she did. “The last time you asked me out for Omakase, you were hospitalised with food poisoning.”
Orm slapped her hand over her face. “When are you going to let that go? That was a year ago!”
Half the bullpen choked back laughter. The other half groaned in sympathy.
Ling’s gaze was calm, not unkind. “I require a reliable dinner partner. Not one who abandons me midway through the meal.”
Orm peeked at her through her fingers, mouth twitching into a grin. “Darling, if that isn’t a love confession, I don’t know what is.”
Later that afternoon, the team gathered in the breakroom. Coffee machines hissed, the smell of pastries filled the air, and chatter buzzed among agents unwinding between assignments.
Orm perched on the counter, swinging her legs, holding court as she described her latest “brilliant hack” with exaggerated flair. Ling stood nearby, calmly stirring sugar into her tea, listening without interruption.
“…and then I bypassed his so-called triple-encryption in sixteen seconds flat,” Orm declared proudly. “Honestly, if I were a lesser woman, I’d feel bad for embarrassing him so badly. But I’m not, so I don’t.”
Agents laughed. One of them clapped her on the shoulder. “Show-off.”
Orm’s grin widened. “I can’t help it. I’m fabulous.”
Ling, finishing her tea, said simply: “You are.”
The breakroom went dead silent. Orm blinked, nearly dropping her pastry. “Wait… what?”
Ling took a calm sip, oblivious to the collective tension. “You are fabulous. That’s true.”
Orm’s jaw dropped. Her cheeks flushed, and for once, words tangled on her tongue.
From the corner, Narawan whispered fiercely, “Oh my god, she just said it. She said it.”
Chanya hissed back, “Don’t get excited. Ling probably thinks she’s complimenting Orm’s coding speed.”
Orm recovered quickly, plastering on a grin. “Why, thank you, darling. Took you three years to admit it, but I’ll take it.”
Ling tilted her head, considering. “I’ve always thought it. I didn’t realize it needed to be said.”
Orm stared at her. Around the room, agents melted into barely suppressed squeals.
Ling, serene as ever, just sipped her tea.