Chapter Text
Jumin hears him outside his office door. He’s been expecting it. But perhaps not so soon.
“Where is that trust fund kid?”
“Zen…” Jaehee’s voice, though soft, hardens in warning. As much as she admires Zen, Jumin knows she values her job and the money it brings in. “Please lower your voice. Mr. Han is trying to get some work done and–”
“You think I give a shit?” Ignoring the warning, Zen’s voice rises. “You better let me in there, Jaehee. He knows what the hell he did. JUMIN!”
“Zen, please…”
Jumin sighs and reaches out for the intercom that connects to the phone on Jaehee’s desk.
“You may let him in, Jaehee.”
Silence stretches along the opposite side of the door until he hears Jaehee fumble with the intercom switch. “Ah, Mr. Han, I don’t think that is wise at the moment. You have quite a bit of work to get done and Zen is in… rare form right now. I don’t think–”
“Let him in,” Jumin repeats, his voice firm with command.
He can hear the way Jaehee barely suppresses a sigh as she says, “As you wish.”
As he expects, Zen wastes no time in kicking his office door in. Like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, he slams it behind him, stomping across the room in a furious, if dramatic, fashion.
“You jerk,” Zen growls, slamming his palms on the opposite edge of Jumin’s desk. “I told you stay the hell out of my career and what do you do?”
“I’m in no mood for riddles,” Jumin replies, his eyes scanning over the documents in front of him, purposely not meeting Zen’s furious glare. He knows what the lack of acknowledgement will do to him. “So please, get to the point.”
“You know damn well it’s not a riddle,” Zen snaps. “You used your snobby, rich boy influence to get that man to approach me about the commercial.”
“Am I to understand that you turned down such a promising opportunity?”
“I know you used your position or your money to bribe that man into…” Zen throws his arms into the air, strands of near silver hair clinging to his face as he shoves himself away from the desk and paces back and forth. “You know I want to gain popularity with my own abilities. I don’t need you to tell people to hire me! I can do that on my own. I don’t need your–”
“What makes you think I told him to do anything?” Jumin has to fight back the urge to grit his teeth and growl in a similar fashion to Zen’s childish complaints. “I did no such thing.”
Zen freezes, casting a narrowed, side eyed glance at Jumin. “What are you talking about?”
Jumin, though quite proficient at reigning in his temper, can feel a vein throb at his temple the more Zen pushes at him. “I used no money.” He pauses, eyes flickering up to meet Zen’s glare. “Nor did I use my position. I merely showed off a few of your videos that happen to be posted everywhere for everyone to see.” He ignores the way Zen huffs in response. “And suggested that you would be the perfect face for their new product.”
With a snarl, Zen stomps around the desk, stopping in front of Jumin. “Don’t try to pull your lies with me.” He slams a hand on the desk, scattering Jumin’s papers, and leans forward. “I’m sure it’s a product your company is involved with and he can’t say no when the director asks him to use someone in an advertisement for–”
Jumin’s hand snaps up, grasping Zen’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. Zen draws in a sharp breath, but doesn’t pull away. He never backs down from Jumin’s challenges. It’s a trait Jumin, begrudgingly, admires.
“You need to put considerable effort into your poor listening skills,” Jumin tells him, silencing Zen’s protest by sliding his thumb up to press against Zen’s lips. “I will say this again for your sake, but know that I do not like having to repeat myself. I did not bribe this man. I did not use my position to further your professional life. My company has no interest in this product and has never, nor will it ever back it. I made sure that I was far removed from this project before suggesting you as a candidate for their advertisement. Did he offer you the position? Or did he suggest meeting with you to discuss the possibility of doing so?”
Zen lets out a soft breath, color rising to his cheeks as Jumin continues. His silence is answer enough.
“As I thought. And yet you come stomping in here, causing a scene in my office. It is during working hours.” Jumin glances at the clock. “Many of my staff still remains and likely saw your little temper tantrum out there.”
“It wasn’t–”
“Ah,” Jumin presses his thumb harder against Zen’s lips. “Did I give you permission to speak?”
Zen pulls his lower lip between his teeth and glares.
“I did not think so.” Jumin caresses his fingers under Zen’s chin. “You enjoy making a spectacle of yourself, don’t you? It makes people turn their heads and watch you…” Jumin scans over Zen’s face, taking in the way his cheeks flush, his eyelashes tickle the curve of his cheeks. He pauses, entranced by the way his lips glisten from the way he licked them, parted ever so slightly to release another soft breath. Jumin adds, “…. to admire you.”
“Jumin…”
“And now you stand before me,” Jumin slides his hand down the side of Zen’s neck, flicking his long hair out of the way. “Nearly obedient in your silence. How rare.” He hooks a hand around Zen’s nape and pulls him forward. “After riling me up…” Zen gasps and braces his free hand on the arm of Jumin’s desk chair. “And I assume you’re expecting an apology for pointing you in the right direction professionally.”
Zen licks his lips and barely nods. “I want you to admit–”
But Jumin admits nothing. He swallows the sentence with his lips, pressing them hard against Zen’s. He feels a soft, reluctant groan from Zen. The hum against his lips makes him tighten his grip. His tongue presses through and Zen fights it, pushing back. He never wins. He always gives in. And soon his knees are anchored at either side Jumin’s hips, his head a few inches higher as he presses their bodies together.
“I still want an apology, you trust fund jerk,” Zen growls, sinking into teeth into Jumin’s lower lip.
“Tch,” Jumin scoffs as he pulls away. “Perhaps if you are obedient enough… I will offer an apology for encroaching on your professional space.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zen slides an arm around Jumin’s neck as he says, “Big words will get you no where.”
“Mmm,” Jumin hums in response. “I have something bigger that will.”