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“I brought this for you.”
“Oh?”
Jeonghan tilts his head, staring at the offered gift in the little girl’s hand. He waits a beat, then snatches it from her hand. She giggles as he examines the onion, turning it over before holding it close to his eyes.
“Purple…” Jeonghan exaggeratedly wrinkles his nose and cocks an eyebrow. “You know I like sweet vidalia better.”
The little girl’s face falls and, for a split second, Jeonghan worries that he’s taken it too far.
But there’s no such thing as too far when you’re the Grinch.
He sighs dramatically, then starts to peel the onion. He’s eaten onions from guests before and it’s not so bad when the first few layers of skin are gone. Juicer, crunchier – less soft. It’s a little hard with Grinch gloves — furry, matted things that extend limply far beyond his fingers, almost making them useless — but he’s eventually able to get the skin and the first layer of onion peeled.
The girl starts to giggle again and the adult with her gasps. “You’re not actually going to eat that, are you?” the grown-up asks, a hint of worry in their voice.
“What, did you poison it?” Jeonghan asks, more towards the kid than the adult. “Pay full-price at the grocery store?”
“No, it’s just been in her suitcase on a plane all the way from Wisconsin."
Jeonghan shrugs. “I’ve eaten worse.”
Then, he bites into the onion.
Disgusting as ever, but so worth it for the little girl’s delighted shrieks and her accompanying adult’s awkward, concerned chuckle.
Jeonghan pointedly does not look in the shadowy corner where his handler is hovering. He doesn’t need the disappointed, worried glances today.
“A little stale,” he says, swallowing, “but still good.”
Then, he chucks the onion over his shoulder towards the display Christmas trees and green throne he sits in maybe a tenth of the time.
“I’ll finish that later,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at the little girl. Then, he turns to the adult. “Don’t you want to take a picture with me or something?”
She laughs, holds up her phone, and takes a selfie of the three of them. The little girl waves, then they leave.
As soon as they’re out of sight, Jeonghan gags and searches for his water bottle. He vaguely remembers hiding it in Max’s doghouse display after his last break, but his brain is onion-hazy. He gets on all fours and cranes his head to look in the doghouse.
“You really shouldn’t have eaten that,” comes a muffled voice from behind him.
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Did you say something? I can’t hear you in here.”
“I said,” Seungcheol says a little louder, “you shouldn’t have eaten that!”
Finally spotting his water bottle, Jeonghan grabs it and slowly backs out of the doghouse. He makes a mental note to gently place it inside instead of tossing it to the back next time. He sits back on his feet and blinks up at Seungcheol for a second before holding up his water bottle for Seungcheol to open.
“I’m serious,” Seungcheol insists as he takes the water bottle.
Popping the lid open, he looks down at Jeonghan with what Jeonghan guesses is a serious face. Jeonghan can’t really see well through the fake eyelashes he glued on this morning. The big hairy eyebrows aren’t helping anything, either.
“Just give me my water bottle,” Jeonghan says, holding his hand out. He coughs to clear his throat, not bothering to cover his mouth. It’s always hard to go back to his normal voice after being in Grinch mode for a while.
Seungcheol pulls it back, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t do that anymore; it’s unsanitary.”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. I’ve done it a dozen times and my stomach has felt fine after.”
Seungcheol sighs, handing Jeonghan his water bottle. Jeonghan immediately starts chugging, trying to get rid of that disgusting onion taste. (He wasn’t kidding when he told that kid he preferred sweet vidalia. Purple onions weren’t that bad, but they certainly weren’t his favorite.)
“Eight more minutes,” Seungcheol says, glancing at his watch. “This crowd is crazy today. I never thought I’d see so many matching sweaters. Isn’t it hot in those? Aren’t parents worried about dehydration?”
“Especially with these prices,” Jeonghan says, capping his water bottle. The onion taste is still in his mouth, but it’s much less pronounced than before. He’ll never admit this to Seungcheol, but the only reason he took that bite is because he knew they were the last group before his break. He would’ve never done it earlier in the batch of guests.
“Insanity.”
Jeonghan lays down on the ground, closing his eyes tightly. He always needs some time to decompress in these short breaks. Being the Grinch is the best job he’s ever had but it does come with downsides. He never feels totally un-Grinchified, even after showering at work and then again at home. Last year, he found green behind his ear a week after New Year’s Day. Embarrassing. He’s also been asked to do some inappropriate things as well. The latest incident involved an older woman wanting him to kiss her for a photo. He maneuvered out of it by joking about her husband finding out and wanting to save himself for marriage, but she snuck a kiss on the cheek at the last minute that smudged his makeup. He was still getting the runaround from the park’s HR department after he’d filed a report about it.
But the families are so fun and the kids are just nuts in the best way. They’re what make the job for Jeonghan. He would improv all day with them if he could. Kids provide the best bits to riff off of. His handler’s job was to make sure that each group got generally the same amount of time and to keep the line moving, but Jeonghan sometimes wishes he could bend the rules for a particularly cute kid or two.
Jeonghan doesn’t bother to open his eyes as he asks, “Any idea how many are left?”
There’s a pause, then, “Like, ‘til we’re done?”
“Yeah.”
Seungcheol chuckles nervously. “Jeonghan, we’ll be here ‘til the park closes.”
Jeonghan sighs. “Fuck.”
He listens as Seungcheol moves, probably peeking out the secret window to observe the crowd. “T-minus seven days ‘til Christmas. You can make it.”
“I’d better.”
After a short silence, Seungcheol clears his throat. “Two minutes.”
Jeonghan closes his eyes tighter. He tries to do the math on how many breaks he has left until his shift is over, but who is he kidding? He’s here ‘til after his shift is over every day. The demand to see the Grinch only got exponentially higher as the holidays drew to a close, and the fact that most people should be with their families instead of harassing a twenty-something in a fursuit at a hot theme park didn’t stop people from lining up for hours.
Groaning, Jeonghan slowly rolls over. Jesus, this was always the hard part. Laying on the ground always felt like such a good idea until it was time to get back up again. He reaches his hand up without saying anything and, within seconds, Seungcheol is by his side, pulling him up.
He looks around for his water bottle again, grunting as he bends over to pick it up. The Grinch belly was definitely the worst part of the suit. He imagines this is what it’s like to be pregnant. He thanks his lucky stars he’ll never have to experience that.
He takes a final sip of his water and chucks his water bottle into Max’s doghouse. Then, he furrows his brow, placing a hairy hand on his swollen stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Seungcheol immediately asks, concern written all over his face.
“My stomach hurts.”
“The next couple that gets engaged in front of me needs to pay for my therapy.”
Seungcheol laughs, bending down to hand Jeonghan his opened water bottle before taking a sip of his own. “At least it’s better than that kid that almost threw up on you.”
The memory brings a smile to Jeonghan’s face. “No, that was fun.”
In the moment, he’d frozen for a split second, not knowing how to react. He’d glanced at the kid and immediately clocked that it was a fluke and that the kid felt more embarrassed than nauseated. He immediately pretended that he’d been the one to throw up, making the kid walk with him to sit down together and subtly fanning him a little as Seungcheol called for housekeeping to clean it up. By the time they got there, the kid was smiling. The adults accompanying him were so apologetic, wagging fingers at the kid and blaming all the sugar he’d consumed, but Jeonghan hadn’t minded. They didn’t know he was a substitute teacher whenever he wasn’t Grinchified. He’d seen more than his fair share of vomit.
“We got a break while they cleaned up,” is all he says to Seungcheol. “That was awesome.”
Seungcheol just shakes his head, pacing a little. Jeonghan watches him. He never seems to relax, not even in these ten-minute breaks they get at the top of every hour. Jeonghan wonders what he’s like after work — if he’s always this anal and high-strung. It means he’s excellent with the guests, so corporate probably loves him. But when does he settle down and chill?
Being the Grinch is largely solitary work, but Jeonghan has made a few friends with other people around his age who also work at the park. They go out after work and visit a brewery nearby sometimes. He’s invited Seungcheol once or twice, but has never gotten a yes. Cheol is busy, busy, busy, even after clocking out. Jeonghan wonders what he does when he’s not wrangling the Grinch. Does he have another part-time job, too? Is he a character handler elsewhere or does he work at a bank or something? He’d be a good bank teller. Jeonghan can easily picture him swooping in to save the day during a bank robbery.
“Do you work at a bank?” Jeonghan suddenly asks.
Seungcheol looks up from his phone, his thick brow furrowed. “A bank? No, I work here.”
“Yeah, but like…” Jeonghan waves a hand. “When we’re not doing this.”
“Oh.”
Seungcheol looks away, avoiding Jeonghan’s intense gaze.
“What, are you, like, an adult content creator? Do you have an OnlyFans?”
Seungcheol blinks rapidly. “No, I don’t have an OnlyFans. I work a nine to five.”
“Hmm.”
Jeonghan doesn’t believe him. Anybody who works a regular, full-time job always has some boring answer they prattle off when asked about their job. Maybe Seungcheol is a porn star. He certainly has the body for it. The uniforms the character handlers get are perfect for showcasing arms refined by months of work in a gym. Jeonghan suspects Seungcheol has thick thighs under his khaki slacks that match his veiny, bulked-up arms.
Jeonghan turns his gaze up to the ceiling, looking at the familiar cracks in the peeling green paint above him. Or maybe Seungcheol just has a boring job and works in finance or something. He probably makes six figures. Jeonghan wonders why he works here, of all places, when he has a nine to five. Does he take PTO? Jeonghan takes fewer substitute teaching placements when he’s working as the Grinch, but he never goes cold turkey.
It’s not like they haven’t had time to get to know each other — there’s supposed to be another Grinch actor and a rotation of handlers, but the other Grinch got offered a gig on a Greta Gerwig film and a nasty new flu strain has ripped its way through the staff, so everybody is pulling doubles throughout the park. Jeonghan was a little annoyed to find out that they wouldn’t be hiring a replacement Grinch so close to Christmas, but he really can’t blame the other actor for doing the movie instead of working in a hot fursuit in what’s essentially an insulated box in the middle of Florida.
Now that he thinks about it, he realizes he really doesn’t know that much about Seungcheol. Jeonghan walks into work complaining about literally everything that comes to mind as he Grinchifies himself, first with about forty minutes doing his makeup and then slowly getting into the suit. Seungcheol isn’t there for any of that, so he always re-hashes everything he already covered whenever they have breaks. Seungcheol always listens quietly, sometimes giving advice (none of which Jeonghan takes) and always offering an optimistic “It’ll be okay” (which used to annoy Jeonghan, but now he finds it endearing).
Jeonghan can’t remember the last time Seungcheol willingly gave up information about himself. Everything Jeonghan knows about him, he’s pried out with a threat of violence or to be annoying.
Jeonghan knows that Seungcheol has a brother, who he lives with. He has a dog. Surely, he has parents, too, but Jeonghan has never heard him mention them. He likes watching television. And, now, Jeonghan knows he has another job. One that has regular hours.
“What are your holiday plans?” Jeonghan asks, rolling to his side and propping his head up on his palm.
“Nothing much,” Seungcheol replies, not looking up from his phone. “Spending time with family. Maybe take a nap. You?”
Jeonghan narrows his eyes. “Hmm.”
After a minute, Seungcheol looks up. He seems surprised that Jeonghan is staring at him so intensely. “What?”
“Family, like who? Parents? Aunts? Uncles?”
“Yes,” is all Seungcheol replies.
Jeonghan purses his lips. Seungcheol just watches him.
“You’re very mysterious,” Jeonghan finally says, and it makes Seungcheol laugh, which makes Jeonghan smile. He doesn’t know very much about Seungcheol, but he knows he can make him laugh.
“I’m not mysterious,” Seungcheol responds, shaking his head and looking back at his phone.
“You’re a little mysterious.”
Seungcheol doesn’t reply. Jeonghan sighs loudly, but doesn’t press it. Maybe Seungcheol is a prince or a nepo baby, volunteering at the theme park to get in some socialization time with anyone who isn’t at the club his family frequents when they summer in Paris.
“Ninety seconds,” Seungcheol says after a minute or so.
Jeonghan begrudgingly lets Seungcheol help him get up. He takes a final sip of water, then chucks the bottle in Max’s doghouse.
“How do I look?” Jeonghan says, turning to Seungcheol.
Seungcheol gives him a onceover, then looks back at his face. He leans forward a little, frowning. Jeonghan feels something flutter in the pit of his stomach. He’s not used to Seungcheol being so close to him. It’s… unnerving. But not unpleasantly so.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
Jeonghan tries to laugh, playing off like it’s a joke about all the prosthetics on his face, but he can’t fully relax into the laugh. Seungcheol is too close to his face for that.
“No, it’s just some…”
Then, Seungcheol reaches forward, picks something off Jeonghan’s face, and pulls back. Jeonghan blinks a little. He doesn’t know why his heart is pounding like someone just professed love to him.
Girl, chill.
He looks down at Seungcheol’s outstretched hand. Resting on the pad of his finger is a tiny piece of green fuzz from Jeonghan’s costume.
Jeonghan looks up at Seungcheol. He’s never seen him so… bright. It’s like he’s lit up. He seems a little shy — embarrassed to be drawing this much attention to a piece of fuzz — but also seems a little too committed to the motion to quit now.
“Make a wish.”
Jeonghan can feel his face contort into a confused smile. He watches Seungcheol deflate a little.
“Y’know,” Seungcheol continues, “like an eyelash?”
“What?”
“You have to make a wish and blow it away.”
Seungcheol’s face falls a little more. It’s maybe the most endearing thing Jeonghan has ever seen.
Jeonghan smiles a little, then purses his lips to blow the piece of fuzz away. He watches it disappear, but not before clocking that Seungcheol is staring at his lips.
Interesting.
A timer on Seungcheol’s phone goes off, snapping them out of whatever had just happened. Seungcheol turns to open the door to bring in the next group and Jeonghan makes one final adjustment to the headpiece.
Then, they’re back in it.
“Hello, Grinch!” a woman says brightly, pulling a very scared child behind her by the hand.
“You’re late,” Jeonghan says, flipping into his annoyed Grinch voice.
He sees Seungcheol smile brightly in his peripheral vision and decides to ignore it.
“You’ve got my face on your shirt,” Jeonghan says, bending down and pointing a hairy finger at a kid’s Grinch shirt.
“Yeah!” he yells back, sticking his stomach forward to show off the shirt.
Jeonghan looks at the adults with him, cocking an eyebrow and switching to an annoyed tone. “I need to get, like, royalties or something from that.” The adults laugh, so he continues. “They can’t just use my face for free. The injustice!” He turns to Seungcheol and starts yelling at him. “Hey! Write that down!”
Seungcheol smiles, pretending to write something down on the iPad he uses to keep track of reservations.
Jeonghan turns back to the kid, letting him talk for a second. He’s started pulling Seungcheol into his interactions with the kids, purely for his own amusement, and it’s really adding some bright spots to an otherwise exhausting day. It makes the day go by faster, honestly. Seungcheol never riffs back, but he always seems happy to be included.
“You got the shirt where?” Jeonghan asks.
“At Costco!”
“Ooh, Mama buys in bulk!” He smiles at the woman behind the kid, hoping she’s his mom. “They have great deals on nutcrackers.”
The kid frowns. “You like nutcrackers?”
“Yeah,” Jeonghan replies, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips, angling his elbows behind him. He understands why pregnant women stand this way — it really does relieve the weight on his stomach. “I buy ten or twelve and take them out back, and then Max and I use them for target practice with my slingshot.”
The kid gasps, then giggles.
“The ornaments aren’t that expensive, either,” he continues. “They shatter beautifully.”
“Ready for a photo?” Seungcheol interjects, signalling an end to their time.
Jeonghan poses with the group, thrusting a gloved hand in front of the kid’s face at the last minute, which makes everybody in the group laugh. He feels proud of the fact that he probably just made the photo they’d use on the cover of their Instagram dump.
“Bye bye, now,” he says, waving exaggeratedly to the group as Seungcheol guides them out.
“Last one,” Seungcheol says before ducking outside to grab the next group.
He has less than three seconds before the next group is ushered in. It’s a group of five teenagers, all of which have their phones pointed towards him. Instantly, Jeonghan knows this could go one of two ways — they could be filming him either to farm a viral moment on social media or to bully him and have video evidence.
Jeonghan starts posing for the cameras, buying time as he figures out what the teens are there for. They just laugh, cheering him on as he points his big, green butt at the camera. They seem harmless, so he starts twerking — nothing too crazy, just to indulge in the silly.
Eventually, he’s voguing, making the hotbox of a room his runway. He knows he’ll probably see this on social media later, but, for now, he’s happy it’s just the seven of them in this tiny room. He pulls one of the teens towards him and they dance together to nonexistent music and the encouragement of the other teens.
The teen he pulled in finally jumps and lands in a split and Jeonghan gladly starts to clap, hoping the kids will accept that as an end to their viral moment. They do, putting their phones away to applaud their friend and Jeonghan, who feels like his costume is about to slip right off his sweaty body.
“Slay, queen,” he says to the teen who danced, who blushes and bows to him flamboyantly.
Seungcheol takes their photo and then the teens want one final video.
“Say, ‘Gay rights!’” one of them yells.
The others echo and Jeonghan hesitates just a split second, then says in his most sincere Grinch voice, “Gay rights!”
After the teens leave, he faceplants on the ground.
“That was incredible,” Seungcheol says.
“What?” Jeonghan replies, still breathing hard.
“That dancing. You’re incredible.”
He sounds a little awestruck, which surprises Jeonghan.
After taking a second to catch his breath, Jeonghan rolls onto his back and looks up at Seungcheol. “I watched a lot of Drag Race during COVID.”
He stares at the ceiling, focusing on breathing. His suit is going to be so nasty at the end of the day. He’s too exhausted to even try to find his water bottle.
“Seungcheol.”
Seungcheol’s smiling face appears above Jeonghan.
“What’s up?”
“I’m getting too old for this.”
Seungcheol just laughs. Then, he reaches his hand out to pull Jeonghan up.
“You should join me down here in my pool of sweat.”
He can tell Seungcheol wants to. So, he grabs Seungcheol’s hand and yanks him down — not too hard, just enough to establish dominance. Seungcheol, to his credit, lets himself be pulled down.
“Seven minutes,” he says next to Jeonghan as he adjusts how he’s laying.
“Just enough time for a nap,” Jeonghan says, closing his eyes.
He’s actually not tired anymore. The idea of Seungcheol laying next to him has zapped his mind awake, shooting any exhaustion out of his body.
He wishes his fursuit wasn’t so fucking thick so he could feel Seungcheol’s beefy arm against his. It probably feels so secure and masculine and… dependable.
“Do you think corporate will get on your ass about… what you said at the end?”
Jeonghan fakes a yawn. “What did I say at the end?”
Seungcheol clears his throat. “Y’know, when they said… ‘gay rights.’”
“Oh.”
Honestly, Jeonghan has already forgotten. The only reason he’d hesitated in the moment is because his training from the first year he Grinched flooded back to his head. Something about representing the character well, which prohibited things like using profanity around children and doing anything too outside of the bounds of what happens in the character's canon story.
Out of all the characters he’s played, the Grinch probably has the most freedom. However, it’s also because of this that clips of the Grinch always go viral on social media. Everybody loves their favorite bratty green monster.
Jeonghan shrugs. “The grinch was raised by lesbians. He’s gotta be pro-gay rights. Right?”
Seungcheol laughs a little. “I guess.”
“Exactly.”
There’s a brief moment of silence, then Seungcheol clears his throat. “Are, uh, you…?”
Jeonghan waits for him to finish the question, but he doesn’t. “Am I what?”
“Pro-gay rights.”
Something stills in Jeonghan’s chest. Surely… surely Seungcheol can tell… Can’t he?
Jeonghan knows he doesn’t owe a coworker anything personal. But he’s already told Seungcheol basically everything. Why not just go all the way?
“Well,” he finally says, “I’d be stupid to not be pro-myself.”
Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, and for a second Jeonghan wonders if he’s got Seungcheol all wrong — if he’s actually one of those people who are anti-gay for religious reasons. He may have just made a fatal error.
Before his brain can spiral too much further, Seungcheol clears his throat. Then, he says, “That’s great.”
Jeonghan laughs — a huge guffaw of a laugh that sounds like it had been trapped inside his body for millennia.
“‘That’s great’?!”
He rolls to his side, gleefully realizing that Seungcheol’s entire face is red.
“You’re funny,” he says before Seungcheol can stammer himself out of the hole he’s dug for himself.
Seungcheol doesn’t look at him and Jeonghan is grateful for the extended time to look at his profile up close. He has a rounded, soft chin but a pretty sharp jawline. A cute, almost-button nose. Jeonghan had noticed how thick his eyebrows were before, but until now hasn’t realized just how long his eyelashes are. And he can’t even think about how full Seungcheol’s lips are.
“I — I just mean that —”
“You’re cute,” Jeonghan laughs.
Maybe it’s the costume that gives him the courage. Maybe it’s the fact that Christmas is in two days. Maybe it’s the fact that, right now, he’s realizing that this is his last shift before his previously-approved paid time off. He doesn’t know when he’ll see Seungcheol again. Something about that makes it feel like someone is stabbing him in the chest. Today can't be the last day. It just can’t be.
“Wanna go get drinks later?” he blurts out.
He watches Seungcheol's Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He waits, heart pounding in his chest even harder than it had when the group of teens had arrived. He realizes he needs Seungcheol to say yes. That, or he needs the pool of sweat under him to burn through the ground, creating a sinkhole that will suck him under the earth to whatever level has the molten lava, where he can think about how embarrassing he is as each layer of his skin slowly burns until there’s nothing left but —
“Yeah.”
Jeonghan beams. “Yeah?”
Seungcheol turns his head, smiling shyly. “Yeah.”
“You’ve never come out after work before.”
Seungcheol’s face turns a slightly brighter shade of red. “I don’t do well with… crowds.”
“Is that why you didn’t sub as the Grinch for me that day I lost my voice from screaming at the Gaga concert and had to call out sick?”
Seungcheol smiles again, and Jeonghan thinks it might be the most beautiful sight in the world. “Pretty much.”
Jeonghan beams back at him, hoping his happiness can be evident even through the layers and layers (and layers) of makeup and prosthetics on his face. Then, he gives Seungcheol a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Now help me up. We’ve gotta clock back in so I can traumatize more kids.”
Later that night, Jeonghan rushes through deGrinchifying himself more than he ever has before. After peeling off the prosthetics on his face, he hops in the shower with makeup wipes in his hands, rubbing at his face as he lets all the green and sweat and germs wash down the drain.
He changes into street clothes (a sweatshirt from his alma mater and jeans) and yanks on his sneakers. He’d usually leave things kind of a mess, since he has his own dressing room, but, since this is his last day, he has to clean as he goes. He chucks the makeup wipes in the trash and and stores the prosthetics the way he’d been taught. Then, he does one last look around the room, grabs his bag, and heads out. He might get a strongly-worded email from his supervisor about how he’d left his dressing room, but he doesn’t care. He has more important things to do.
As he walks down the long, gross hallway, he tries to remember if Seungcheol had ever seen him out of costume. There may have been a time or two, very early on in the Grinchmas season, where Seungcheol had seen him in normal clothes, but it was super unlikely. Seungcheol didn’t have to show up until fifteen minutes before his shift since he was just a handler. By then, Jeonghan was already getting into his fursuit.
He badges himself out of the building and immediately stops. Seungcheol is standing next to a car in the nearly-empty lot, directly under a streetlight, looking at something on his phone. He looks beautiful. His uniform isn’t nearly as shapeshifty as Jeonghan’s is, but, even with just a Carhartt jacket on over it, it’s still almost like Seungcheol is a different person. A different version of himself, at least. More chill. Even now, as Jeonghan closes the gap between them, he’s delighted to see a more relaxed version of Seungcheol. Seungcheol, who always keeps things running smoothly. Seungcheol, who steps in when needed and calls for backup if necessary. Seungcheol, whose job is almost as important as Jeonghan’s.
Almost.
“Hey,” Jeonghan says, stopping just a few feet away from Seungcheol.
Seungcheol looks up. He seems confused at first. Then, he blinks. “Jeonghan?”
Jeonghan laughs. “Have you never seen me out of costume before?”
Judging by his face, Jeonghan guesses the answer is no. He laughs again to keep the vibes light but somewhere deep inside, the insecurity is building.
Is this okay? Am I okay? Am I not what he expected?
“You’re…” Seungcheol swallows. “Wow.”
Jeonghan tries to laugh again, but it gets stuck in his throat. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. “Wow good or wow bad?”
“Wow… I want to kiss you right now.”
Jeonghan’s heart stills.
“Is that weird?” Seungcheol continues, the look on his face so pure and concerned that Jeonghan can’t even take a beat to think about how exciting this moment is.
“It would only be weird if you said it while I was still Grinchified.”
Seungcheol laughs but doesn’t make a move to step forward, so Jeonghan continues, spouting whatever comes to his mind that will fill the silence.
“I mean, I get it — the Grinch does do it for some people. But I honestly think that says a lot about a person’s childhood wounds and how they —”
And then Seungcheol is kissing him and every thought flies out his brain so he couldn’t talk even if he wanted to.
In all their shifts together, Jeonghan had forced himself to not think about Seungcheol’s lips. To not imagine them pressed against his own.
But now they are, and it’s better than Jeonghan could’ve ever imagined.
He grabs at Seungcheol’s jacket, pulling it towards himself, trying to get even closer to Seungcheol than he already is. Seungcheol seems to want the same thing, moving his hands from Jeonghan’s jaw to threading one in Jeonghan’s hair and skating the other down Jeonghan’s spine to rest at the small of Jeonghan’s back. Jeonghan tilts his head to deepen the kiss and Seungcheol takes the opportunity to go further, pushing forward with his tongue and skimming it across Jeonghan’s. Jeonghan lets out a breathy sigh that comes out more like a moan, and the final remaining brain cell in the back of his brain hopes the parking lot is empty.
After a few more moments of bliss, Jeonghan pulls away, needing a breath. He blinks up at Seungcheol through heavily-lidded eyes, delighted to see that Seungcheol’s lips look even better when they’re swollen from kissing.
“Wow,” Jeonghan says, hoping Seungcheol would register it as a callback instead of just words.
“Wow,” Seungcheol replies, smiling down at him.
Jeonghan doesn’t know if he realizes it’s a callback, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to be the Grinch right now. He can just be himself.
“Remind me to send a letter to the parks admin to thank them for scheduling us together.”
Suddenly, Seungcheol’s face goes beet red again. Jeonghan doesn’t think he’s ever seen it this red.
“What?” Jeonghan asks, pulling back slightly but not letting go of Seungcheol’s jacket.
“About that…”
Jeonghan waits patiently.
“After our first shift,” Seungcheol slowly says, staring down at Jeonghan’s fingers clenching on the canvas of his jacket, “I hacked into the system and found out when you were scheduled and scheduled myself to work with you.”
Jeonghan’s brain goes numb. Out of all the things he would have thought Seungcheol was going to say, this was definitely not on the list. “You … what?”
“I work in cybersecurity,” Seungcheol explains, still avoiding eye contact with Jeonghan. “I can hack anything.”
“I thought you worked a nine to five.”
“I do, but I’m done with my work at like 9:05am every single day and I always get bored and waste a ton of time, so I started working here part-time just to get out and because I thought it was fun.” Seungcheol glances up at Jeonghan's face before continuing. “The day we were scheduled together for the first time, I was going to quit. Then… I met you and I couldn’t.”
Jeonghan tries to process all of this. “Is that why you never said yes to drinks with me and the others?”
Seungcheol hesitates, then nods. “I didn’t think I’d be able to work with you anymore if you realized I had a crush on you and didn’t like me back.”
Jeonghan makes his brain take a step back to evaluate how he feels about this. After a moment, he pulls on Seungcheol’s jacket. “Well, I guess it’s for the best that today’s our last shift.”
“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol offers, the color returning to his face as he finally makes eye contact with Jeonghan.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Jeonghan says, then pulls Seungcheol in for another kiss.