Work Text:
This is… suspicious. To say the least.
Renjun is leaning over the counter, watching as Donghyuck lifts up a finger and, in turn, the coffee pot flies up from the table. Then, as his finger bends just slightly, the pot tilts to pour the coffee into the heart-shaped cup — the right amount, not any more drops than what’s necessary. To top it off, he draws a smiley face in the air in front of him, and the drawing shows on the surface of the coffee.
On any other occasion, Renjun would be rolling his eyes, snapping at Donghyuck about how unsanitary it was to dip your dirty fingers inside a drink, or how it’s unfair that they’re getting paid the same money when Donghyuck only does so much as lift a finger to get everything done. All the while Renjun actually puts in the work — screws up the coffee drawings until they’re nothing but blurs, remakes orders from scratch when a customer is unhappy with it, stays back to clean the toilets with his very own hands.
So, why does he find himself smiling at Donghyuck as he once again uses his magic to escape his work?
Contrary to popular belief, Renjun doesn’t really use his abilities on a daily basis. He prefers to keep the fact that he has an ability to himself, because when people find out is usually when chaos starts to ensue. And it’s not really useful in a job like this: if people want to be nice to you, they will; if they don’t want to be nice, they won’t. Renjun reading their mind really makes no difference. There’s a reason why people say you see people’s true colours in how they treat servers.
So, his reactions every time Donghyuck uses his magic abilities at work are only natural. Yes, they’re objectively useful at a job like this. And yes, that’s exactly the reason why he should be being paid less.
What’s not natural is how Renjun lays his eyes on him today and can only focus on his gorgeous, sunkissed tan skin, the way his lashes batter when he looks over at Renjun, the sudden light invading the room when he smiles…
“You don’t have anything to say to me today?” Donghyuck asks, walking over to the counter and placing himself face to face with Renjun.
On the inside, he imagines himself rolling his eyes or nagging Donghyuck like he usually does, annoyed by his presence only. But on the outside, his mouth hangs open and his eyes snap wide, not wanting to miss the sight of Donghyuck for even a second.
“I, uh— No,” he stutters. “You look good today.” Those words escape his mouth completely unprompted, and Donghyuck smirks, tucking his tongue in his cheek, cocky.
Renjun must be under a spell.
“Yeah? That’s the only thing you’re gonna say to me?”
No, Renjun thinks. Please stop using magic at work instead of doing the job like the rest of us. And please put that smirk away!
“I love you,” Renjun says. No, no, no. That is not true.
“Woah, thank you,” Donghyuck snickers. “But I don’t like you like that,” the smirk is back and more prominent this time. He is so playing with Renjun.
With the still rational part of his mind, Renjun goes to grab his hand. But Donghyuck is quicker and pulls away from the counter, immediately going back to work. Or, just drawing shapes with his fingers to put everything in order while Renjun does the dishes with his bare hands.
As much as Renjun would like to yell at him, throughout the day he can only fight so much as the corners of his mouth lift in the presence of Donghyuck, a foolish expression on his face that he didn’t ask for. This is totally a spell. Why are his body and mind on completely different paths?
The day ends and Donghyuck closes down the café with one hand motion before going to pick up his bag from the lockers. Renjun has been waiting all day to catch him off guard and alone: the moment he touches him, he’ll have a confirmation, a confession that this is not real, only a spell.
But, his body has been doing weird things around Donghyuck the whole day. And the way it manifests is like this: Renjun only goes to circle his hand around his arm, but once he’s there he applies enough force to turn him around. And once he’s facing him, looking Donghyuck right in his eyes…
He can’t help himself.
The kiss is nothing but a brush, soft and tasting of all the coffee they’ve had to try during the day. Donghyuck takes it onto himself to deepen it, and Renjun’s body can’t fight it, letting his jaw hang loose and his head tilt back to make room for Donghyuck. And in his mind—
Well. This is good.
Holy shit, it worked, in Donghyuck’s voice.
It’s Donghyuck who breaks the kiss, because Renjun can’t seem to un-glue himself from his perfect, pink, plump lips, trying to chase them as Donghyuck extends his arms in between their bodies to keep him at a safe distance. Renjun swears he can feel his brain swirl around, turning annoyance into fondness and disgust into infatuation.
Before he’s completely taken over by this brain swirl from literal hell, he gathers all the energy and rationality he has left to ask: “Did you put a spell on me?”
His tone is calm with a hint of amusement, when that still sane part of his brain had meant to yell the question right at Donghyuck’s face. But, somehow, that seems to get the unexpected reaction out of him: he drops his hands from where they’re holding Renjun back and steps backwards until he’s pressed against the lockers, as if Renjun was the one pushing himself at him.
“I’m sorry, okay? I was only trying it out,” he confesses. “Did it work?”
“Yes!” Renjun exclaims. And it sounds… excited, rather than the obvious anger he should be feeling at Donghyuck casting a spell on him without his consent.
In turn, Donghyuck walks away further from Renjun, now with his mouth hung open as if he’d turned into a monster. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he keeps repeating, and Renjun only realises why after a few seconds: his body is unwillingly chasing after Donghyuck’s, trying to wrap him in his arms again. The magic is stronger than he realises; it’s almost eating away at his brain. If not, why did he like the kiss?
Donghyuck then halts and extends his arms between their bodies, with Renjun trying to press onto his hands in a display of pure obsession. “I’ll make you an antidote, okay? I didn’t know it’d be this strong,” he announces. Renjun wants to thank him for it, but his mouth doesn’t form the words and instead sticks his lips out for another kiss that never lands.
After some ruffling around, Donghyuck manages to get Renjun locked in the storage room on his own, and a while later he comes back holding a heart-shaped coffee cup. Renjun’s body — and the part of the brain that controls it — must know that in that cup is the antidote, because he tries to swat it away and even spills some of it onto the floor.
In the end, Donghyuck forces a bit more than half of the drink down his throat. “It’ll take a while for things to get back to normal,” he explains, coincidentally while Renjun is busy trying not to spit the drink out. “You’ll be all good tomorrow.”
And, before Renjun can finish recovering from the cough attack that takes over him, Donghyuck runs out the door and Renjun’s body and mind are left without their object of adoration.
——
The next day, Renjun is not back to normal.
He went to sleep thinking about the kiss and woke up still thinking about the kiss. His body doesn’t run to Donghyuck mindlessly anymore, but the urge is still there — the need to hold Donghyuck still and press his lips against Donghyuck’s, the need to be as close as he can; that hasn’t disappeared, even after taking the antidote.
“Are you all good now?” Donghyuck asks from a safe distance in the first free second they have that morning. And, Renjun doesn’t like to lie: he’s not all good now; in fact, he’s even worse, because now he doesn’t have the excuse of being under a spell.
Now he knows: this must mean he likes Donghyuck for real, not only when he’s under a magic spell.
And, he doesn’t like to lie. But, in response to Donghyuck’s question, he nods as hard as he can. Totally normal, totally good now. Donghyuck only eyes him up and down with an unreadable expression before he goes on with his work — or lack thereof. When Renjun rolls his eyes anyway, that’s how he knows the magic definitely isn’t there anymore. This is a real thing: he likes Donghyuck, of all people.
The day goes on like this: Donghyuck, as usual, leaves his work to magic, but he doesn’t spend his free time annoying Renjun. Instead, he just sits in a corner and observes Renjun as if he was some exotic animal, as if he was under a microscope and Donghyuck were about to study his every movement, baring him open to try and make sense of his every part. Meanwhile, Renjun tries to act normal, and it’s easy when Donghyuck still doesn’t do his work. But not so deep down he’s fighting the need to pull him aside and kiss him again, hear Donghyuck’s thoughts and find out if it was real for him too.
He manages to make it through the rest of the day without giving in. It’s easy, he can keep this up forever if he wants to, as long as Donghyuck acts like nothing happened too. Workplace romances are not ideal, especially with someone like Donghyuck. Why does it have to be him?
“You’re not a good liar, Renjunnie,” Donghyuck singsongs, startling Renjun from behind. Renjun flinches, more from Donghyuck's implication that he knows his little secret than from the actual jumpscare.
Act normal, Renjun. What even is normal anymore?
“And you’re not a good server,” is his weak, poor comeback. Donghyuck giggles in response.
“That’s it? You’re not gonna defend yourself?” Renjun knows he will just dig himself deeper into his grave if he speaks, so he just rolls his eyes and closes the locker with a loud thud. Donghyuck follows his steps and places himself between Renjun and the door. “I saw the way you were looking at me today.”
“How exactly?” Renjun questions, bouncing back and forth on his feet. Either he gets out of there soon or he’s going to end up caving somehow. His heart pounds in his ears.
“Like you wanna kiss me again.”
“You wish,” Renjun attempts, and tries to make his way to the door by crouching under Donghyuck’s extended arms. He almost makes it before Donghyuck grips his arm so hard it’s going to leave a mark.
“Don’t lie, Renjunnie,” Donghyuck continues. “You don’t need to.”
Renjun gulps, feeling how Donghyuck’s eyes tear him open from the inside. He knows, he knows and it’s no use to keep lying. He doesn’t even like it anyways.
Donghyuck speaks first. “I cast a spell on you for a reason, you know?” he asks as he places himself fully opposing Renjun, too close and still gripping him to death. “So, whatever you’re feeling right now, I’m feeling the same.”
For a moment, Renjun concentrates on listening to Donghyuck’s brain instead of to his voice. I like you so much, Renjun. He thinks of it as a confession, as if he knows Renjun can read his mind even though he’s never told him about this little magic of his own. Donghyuck is really feeling the same as him.
“Is this real?” Renjun questions.
Donghyuck tilts his head in amusement, cocky smile drawing on his lips. “Let’s find out.”
And with that, Donghyuck tugs at his arm to pull him close, holds him by the neck and locks their lips in a kiss. Renjun hears him scream and scramble in his head, but it’s only a background noise to all he feels — the gentle touches of lips against each other, the fingers threading through Renjun’s hair, his chest swelling up trying to catch his breath; all of this is louder than any words said in their heads.
But even so, Renjun screams seven words in his head, loud enough to reach Donghyuck’s mind.
I don’t like you, I love you.