Work Text:
Seungmin’s place of work was essentially a front for a casino. He pondered the morality of his situation as he drank his cup of shitty coffee and watched Jisung and Hyunjin bet thirty (!) dollars on what color Changbin’s shirt would be that day.
Seungmin assumed that the only reason Jisung bet so much was because he was trying to earn back the twenty-five dollars he’d lost earlier that morning to Jeongin when it turned out that Chan didn’t always water the cactus on the left first. Go figure.
Of course, Seungmin wasn’t stupid. He knew that his coworkers were betting on his actions, too–he’d seen Changbin grudgingly fork over a twenty to Jeongin when Seungmin straightened the stapler on his desk (“I told you he’d notice!”), and Felix curse quietly when Seungmin chose to participate in casual Friday.
(That said, every day was casual Friday for everybody except for Seungmin. He always wore a suit, despite the fact that their boss showed up in gym clothes half the time.
“We work at a start-up, bro,” Jisung had said once. “I can’t remember the last time I saw Chan in anything other than sweatpants. You don’t have to wear the tux.”
“It’s not a tuxedo,” Seungmin had replied primly. “There’s no satin.”
Without looking up, Hyunjin had reached over his and Jisung’s desks. Jisung had sighed heavily and slapped a ten into his waiting palm.)
In any case, Seungmin was well aware of the betting. He never partook himself–a move which earned Felix five dollars every Friday–but it wasn’t out of moral superiority. No, he was biding his time and waiting for the opportunity to destroy his coworkers financially.
Seungmin spent about ten minutes at the end of every shift updating his list of stupid things his stupid coworkers threw away their money on. He would normally feel bad about indulging in his hobbies during company time, but Jisung was right–they did indeed work at a start-up.
He used his list to track his coworkers’ habits and anticipate their next moves. For example:
Paychecks came in every other Friday → bets were far more generous the following Monday, and nearly nonexistent the preceding Thursday.
Changbin paid off his credit card on the tenth of every month → he wasn’t likely to go in on anything until the eleventh.
Chan very rarely participated, citing “professionalism” because he was their boss → when he did get involved, he was positive that he was correct, and typically bet big.
Seungmin also took notes that would eventually help him determine when to join the pot: Hyunjin and Changbin were competitive and would force the bidding higher if the other one was involved. Felix frequently paid in pure gold jewelry, and once with a very expensive Jackson Pollock, which Seungmin wasn’t really sure what to do with. Jeongin very rarely lost money. Jisung very rarely won money.
He noted the topics of the bets (typically the actions of other people), the net average profit of each person each week (excluding Chan, Jeongin, and Jisung, the other three roughly broke even), and their emotional reactions to winning versus losing.
Armed with that information, Seungmin waited.
“Hey, everyone!” Chan called, standing in front of his office. Well, “office” was a strong word. Chan called it that, but the rest of them mostly referred to it as his “area,” seeing as there were three fewer walls than one might expect an office to have.
“I finally managed to get us a hardware guy,” Chan said excitedly, smiling when his words were met with loud cheers. Their technology was so broken that Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Changbin shared a computer. This posed a slight issue considering they all worked in crypto.
Yes. While Seungmin’s place of work was essentially a front for a casino, it was actually a front for what was, at its core, one large, digital scam.
Chan, somehow, didn’t seem to be aware that their product was eventually going to ruin people’s lives, and none of them wanted to break the news to him after he’d worked so hard to get everything set up (by that, Seungmin means he begged Changbin to use his parents’ apartment in the city and then begged Jisung to create the currency). (Changbin’s parents said they could only be in the main living area, and Jisung still didn’t seem to understand what Chan wanted from him.)
Seungmin, who didn’t really understand crypto but understood tax loopholes very well, didn’t really understand what his company did. He didn’t really care all that much, though; he just knew that he was not legally liable for anything that happened here, and was prepared to betray his coworkers in court if necessary.
“This is Minho.” Chan gestured loosely to the man standing next to him. He had sharp eyes, perfect bone structure, and an outfit so lazy it rivalled Chan’s. At least Chan had started a company, for god’s sake, and it wasn’t his first day on the job. Minho was wearing grey sweatpants, a grey hoodie (different shade from the pants!), and his dark hair was mostly tucked into a–yup–grey beanie.
Minho nodded lazily. “Nice to meet you all.”
Chan bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly. “We’re so glad you’re here. We’ve been having some…issues.” He pointed to where Jisung was doing something that looked incredibly complicated on an iPad 5.
Minho clicked his tongue. “I see. I’m happy to help where I can. I’d like to start with the computers that aren’t working?”
Chan gestured to the computer graveyard, as Seungmin had begun to dub it in his head–there were at least five in the far corner of the office, and each one had met with a gruesome fate. Minho’s face remained impassive. As he walked past Seungmin’s desk, Seungmin saw that he was wearing Birkenstocks, and was unable to hold back his audible scoff.
Minho paused and arched one perfect eyebrow at him. “Yes?” Seungmin hesitated for a split-second and then figured he should probably commit and finish what he started. Money, mouth, et cetera.
“Your shoes are not appropriate for the workplace.”
“Oh, for the love of god,” Jeongin groaned from his desk. It wasn’t his turn with the computer (unfortunately), so he was free to involve himself.
Chan laughed nervously. “Seungmin just likes to joke around! Ignore him!”
Seungmin could tell that Minho was looking at him, so he gathered his wits, prepared himself to be uncomfortable, and raised his eyeline until he was looking directly into Minho’s eyes. “I wasn’t joking.”
Their staredown was interrupted by a blur of motion between them. The blur turned out to be Hyunjin, who wrenched his hands into the lapels of Seungmin’s suit and shoved him against the wall next to his desk.
“I am sick,” Hyunjin spit out through gritted teeth, “of sharing a motherfucking computer. Jeongin uses it to watch porn, and somehow “forgets” to close the tab. Every. Fucking. Time.” That last part was directed at Jeongin, who rolled his eyes. Seungmin was briefly grateful that the attention was off of him, but then Hyunjin was back in his face.
“If you scare away the man who can fix this, I will make you regret ever being born. If I ever open another computer and see a little twink getting pounded, you will rue the day you met me. Do you understand?”
Yes, Seungmin understood.
Chan laughed again, sounding near-hysterical. “We have fun here!”
“Right,” Minho said drily. Seungmin couldn’t see the expression on his face because of Hyunjin, but it sounded annoying. “May I see the computers?”
That afternoon, Seungmin realized that a new person in the office meant an abundance of new opportunities. He’d grudgingly apologized to Hyunjin, who forgave him immediately (he was in a good mood, likely because he’d made some money off of Changbin by betting on how many cups of coffee Chan would drink) and was now discussing new money-making opportunities in what Seungmin was sure Hyunjin thought was a whisper.
Seungmin’s coworkers, sans Minho (working on the computers), Chan (disappeared), and Seungmin (actually trying to do his job), were all huddled around Felix’s desk, surely gambling away their next paychecks.
The hushed arguments came to an abrupt halt just as Seungmin sensed a shadow falling over his desk. He looked up at Minho and huffed.
“How can I help you?”
Minho looked vaguely entertained. It was infuriating. “I was just hoping I could borrow a pen and some paper. Out of everyone,” he gestured vaguely around the room, “you seem the most likely to have that.”
He was correct. Seungmin wasn’t even sure that Jeongin could write.
Seungmin glared at Minho as he ripped a page out of his notebook, making sure to do it painstakingly slowly. When Minho reached out to take it, Seungmin didn’t let go.
“Don’t wear the Birks again.”
“I’ll wear what I want.”
“It’s unprofessional.”
“This so-called office is an apartment. There are baby pictures on the walls.”
“Yes, and Changbin is wearing closed-toe shoes in every single one of them,” Seungmin said primly.
“Please leave me out of this,” Changbin muttered from somewhere to his right.
Satisfied that he’d made his point, Seungmin let go of the piece of paper.
“Can I have more than one sheet?” Minho asked.
Seungmin handed him a sticky note.
“And a pen?”
Seungmin handed him a pen.
“You would use a Bic Cristal,” Minho scoffed.
Seungmin’s jaw dropped. Minho comes and practically begs for a pen and then has the audacity to insult it? The Bic Cristal is effective and takes forever to run out of ink. What more can you ask for?
Seungmin can’t stand him.
That evening, Seungmin discovered that so many bets were being made about their new coworker that the other idiots needed to keep written records. This came as a pleasant surprise, and meant that he could stop staying late to plant microphones around the office.
They’d (stupidly) left the paper lying on Hyunjin’s desk. He took a picture, then skimmed it briefly.
It was mostly normal bets: Minho’s coffee order, Minho’s sexuality, whether Minho owned multiple pairs of Birkenstocks, etc. Seungmin was disappointed until he hit the last entry, which turned out to be something only one person–one not known for his gambling skills–bet would happen. Based on the sloppiness of the handwriting, it seemed to be an afterthought. The writing wasn’t so sloppy, however, that Seungmin couldn’t read it, and he knew immediately that this was going to be his grand entrance onto the betting scene. Seungmin and Minho get together, he read again.
Of course, Seungmin had to move quickly. The odds were already in his favor:
- They’d gotten paid on Friday. It was Monday.
- Specifically, it was Monday the twelfth, and Changbin had lost a bet earlier that day to Hyunjin. Changbin wanted to redeem himself and had money to throw around, and Hyunjin was overconfident from his win.
- Chan’s name appeared, in his own handwriting, in a variety of places. If Chan was involved, so were large amounts of money.
- Felix had been shelling out for bets over the last couple of weeks. Clearly his side activities were going well.
- Jisung was so far in debt that he was on a Klarna-esque payment system to Jeongin.
So it begins.
The next day, Seungmin was almost giddy as he prepared for work. He pledged to be extra mean to Minho, and not flirty! teasing! haha cute!, but truly, deeply just not nice. On his commute, he almost felt a little bad before he remembered how much money he was about to make. Of course, Minho would get a cut, so that would hopefully make up for it.
Is this prostitution? Seungmin wondered. It’s technically paying someone for sex. But not in a normal, creepy way. In a clever, screw-over-annoying-coworkers way.
From there, of course, his internal debate shifted to the importance of intent. He wasn’t explicitly paying for sex, and sex wasn’t even really the end goal, and Minho didn’t need the money, and Seungmin wasn’t in a position of superiority at work…
At the end of the day, Seungmin thought, that’s a strawman. It isn’t prostitution, because Minho himself isn’t getting explicitly paid, Seungmin is.
Is Seungmin the prostitute, then? What does that make Minho? Based on the handwriting on the paper, the person who’d written down the bet was Felix. Was Felix his pimp?
“Seungmin. Seungmin. Seungmin.” Someone was snapping in front of his face. Seungmin fought back the urge to reach out and bite their fingers. “I came to ask for more paper. Did that awful tie cut off the blood flow to your brain?”
Huh. Maybe. Seungmin did not remember making it to the office. Too busy pondering prostitution. Oh well.
Minho’s outfit was, again, Variations on a Theme. The theme, again, was “gray.” Seungmin did not respond, and instead leaned over his desk to look at Minho’s footwear. The motherfucker was in Birks.
“Your tie is crooked,” Minho interjected before Seungmin had the chance to say anything. He’d pre-interrupted. What an asshole. “And,” he continued, “your socks don’t match.”
Felix gasped loudly from the couch, where he seemed to have been asleep. “Seungmin! Your socks don’t match?”
Chan jerked away from the wall. “Seungmin’s socks don’t match?” He looked horrified.
Hyunjin’s head snapped up from his computer so quickly that Seungmin was worried he’d pulled something. “What?” When no one answered, he spoke again. “Seungmin?” His voice was tinged with something dangerously close to desperation.
“Holy shit,” Jeongin whispered. The room was silent.
With a sense of impending doom, Seungmin raised his pant legs. His argyle socks were identical in pattern, but one was dark blue and the other was black. They didn’t match. His breath caught in his throat. How did he let this happen?
Jisung, who was fifteen minutes late (down from his usual twenty!), walked in and froze before turning to Felix with a clear question in his eyes. When Felix leaned over and whispered to him, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and he dropped his coffee, which had surely cost him at least nine dollars.
He ignored the stain, rushing over to where Hyunjin was still sitting at his desk, looking as though he’d seen a ghost. Felix was close behind him, and the rest of them watched as Jisung cupped Hyunjin’s face in his hands and spoke quietly. Felix pulled Hyunjin into his chest, and exchanged a worried look with Jisung over his head.
Despite their efforts, Hyunjin’s hands knit themselves into his hair. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack.
Changbin, whom Seungmin had yet to see that day, emerged from the kitchen. He saw the coffee stain on the white rug first. “Jisung,” he threw his hands up, “you have got to be fucking kidding me.”
When Jisung didn’t respond, Changbin finally took in the rest of the room. He looked to where Chan was leaning heavily on Seungmin’s desk, then at Seungmin, who was still holding up his pant legs. Finally, he turned to Hyunjin with the scariest smile Seungmin had ever seen in his life. “Was it one or two thousand?”
Hyunjin let out a sob so full of pain that Chan flinched. Changbin took measured steps over to Seungmin and took his hands gently. He stared deeply into his eyes, which Seungmin was deeply uncomfortable with, and whispered “thank you.”
Huh. More incentive for Hyunjin to bet big on the whole sex thing.
Seungmin walked into Changbin’s parents’ kitchen at 12:30 on the dot for lunch. He opened the door to their excessively large fridge and reached for his food. It wasn’t on his shelf.
Every day, Seungmin ate the same thing for lunch. Every day, he put it on the top shelf on the right of the fridge. Every. Day.
“Looking for something?”
No way. Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut and counted to three before he turned around.
Minho was sitting at the kitchen counter, with Seungmin’s lunch spread out around him. “I hope you don’t mind,” Minho pouted. “I forgot my lunch today.” He maintained eye contact as he used Seungmin’s spoon to take a bite of Seungmin’s yogurt, looking incredibly self-satisfied the entire time.
Seungmin gave him a fake smile and turned back to the fridge. He reached behind a rotting cauliflower that had been in there for at least a year and emerged victorious: in other words, with another container of yogurt.
“No problem,” he said, saccharine-sweet. “I’d just appreciate it if it didn’t happen again.”
Once back in the main office, he dumped the entirety of his water bottle onto one of the computers Minho had been trying to fix. Felix watched with wide eyes until Seungmin shot him a glare.
When Minho emerged from the kitchen, he took one look at his workplace (which was just the floor), turned on his heel, and left. The door to the apartment closed behind him with a definite click, and Seungmin smirked. Another win.
Through his world-class stealth (and the others all talking too loudly–did Hyunjin genuinely not know how to whisper?), Seungmin learned that the bet about his sex life was already nearing one thousand dollars. Not bad, but not what he wanted.
“Seungmin!” Felix beamed as he cornered Seungmin in the hallway after work. Seungmin recognized that smile. It was the one Felix used when the police showed up over noise complaints, or when the IRS showed up and tried to arrest Chan that one time.
“Felix,” Seungmin greeted, trying not to look at his freckles. That’s how he gets you, he reminded himself. Instead, he stared at the fake plant that was set in the hallway next to the door of the apartment. Fire hazard. Could be a lawsuit.
“Can I ask you a question?”
When Seungmin nodded, Felix smiled again.
“What do you think about Minho?”
Seungmin frowned deeply. “I don’t like him at all. I’m hoping that he either gets fired or quits.”
“And that’s really what you think?” Felix popped his lip into an exaggerated pout. God damn, he was really pulling out all the stops.
Seungmin nodded. “Why do you ask?”
Of course, he knew why Felix was asking. More and more money was getting involved, and Felix wanted to fall on the right side of things. It was admirable. Unfortunately, Seungmin had to stick to his plan.
Felix shrugged, faux-nonchalant. The smile was back. “Just curious. There are some rumors going around about your relationship.”
Seungmin raised his eyebrows. “My relationship with Minho?” When Felix nodded, Seungmin huffed out a laugh.
“I’m not sure what rumors you’re hearing, but trust me when I say that I do not like the man.”
Felix nodded, still beaming. It was a bit disconcerting. “Okay, thank you! Have a good evening!”
“You too,” Seungmin said. And if he walked to the elevator a little bit more quickly than normal to avoid having Felix at his back, that was his own problem.
The next morning, Seungmin paused outside the door of the apartment. He told Chan that he had a dentist’s appointment, which wasn’t a complete lie–he did have an appointment, just not for…seven hours. He also had it on good authority that Minho was going to be late, and he was confident his coworkers would use this time to gossip, as they were wont to do.
After a cursory glance in each direction, he carefully fed his smallest microphone under the door and pulled on his headphones.
“…just don’t think it’ll happen,” Felix was saying. “I do not think that Seungmin is joking around about not liking Minho.”
“What about Minho, though?” Chan(?) offered. “There’s a chance that he could pursue Seungmin.”
“Seungmin being pursued?” Hyunjin snorted. “I can’t imagine him speedwalking, much less running.”
“I meant pursued, like, romantically.”
“Ah.”
“You’re such a dumbass.” Maybe Jeongin. “Also, Minho seems straight to me.”
That possibility had not once crossed Seungmin’s mind.
“Oh, right. You think that Minho’s straight, but somehow I’m the dumbass?” In his mind, Seungmin saw Hyunjin press an offended hand to his chest.
“This is a ridiculous argument all around,” Changbin interjected. “Jisung is the only one who thinks that something will happen there, and I literally cannot remember the last time he won anything.”
“Yeah, Jisung,” Hyunjin again, “why are you betting so much? Do you know something that we don’t?”
Seungmin’s audio suddenly popped with what sounded like static. When he cautiously returned the headphones to one ear, he realized that it was just the sound of Jisung’s sobs.
“I’m just,” a shaky breath, “I’m so in debt, and, I just,” sob, “I need something to finally work out,” more sobs, “please leave me alone.”
“Damn.” Someone, presumably Jeongin, clucked their tongue. “You still owe me twenty bucks today, though.” Definitely Jeongin, then.
“You also owe me fifty,” Hyunjin chimed in.
Jisung huffed. “Then I want to bet another thousand on Minho and Seungmin.”
“I’ll put in two,” Changbin said. He sounded bored.
“I’ll match Changbin.” Chan.
“I’ll add a gold bracelet valued at around three thousand.” Felix, of course.
“We should probably end this,” Chan said. “I don’t want it to get too out-of-hand.”
“How about…we can change our bets until 5pm on Friday?” Hyunjin suggested. “Just to make sure we’re all confident.”
“And then they have to have sex by the end of the month,” Changbin proposed.
Seungmin retrieved his microphone. Things were going well. Friday would be a good day to end it, he decided. Good call, Hyunjin.
Thursday and Friday dragged slower than any other days ever had. He continued being horrible to Minho–at one point he stole his wallet, which was actually pretty questionable on his part. He had a talk with himself after that and decided not to do it again.
Regardless, Minho rose to the bait every time. If Seungmin snarked at him, Minho dealt it right back. When Seungmin fucked up one of the computers, Minho waited a few hours before “accidentally” shredding some of Seungmin’s documents.
On Friday, Seungmin was testy with everyone, and he could tell that they were getting sick of his bullshit. At 4:50, Chan pulled him into his “office” and said that everyone had noticed he was acting off, and is there anything Chan can do to help?
“Sorry, I just hate Minho so fucking bad,” Seungmin said, and metaphorically crossed his fingers as he heard papers rustling behind him.
Seungmin waited until 5:03pm, just in case anyone’s watch was slow (he was not going to lose on a technicality) to walk over to Minho’s work station (still the floor).
“Minho,” he said. The room went very still. Minho looked up at him from the floor. “Would you like to get dinner with me?”
Minho smiled brightly, and Seungmin’s heart stuttered. “Yes, I would like that a lot.”
Seungmin waited patiently for Minho to gather his things, the whole time ignoring his coworkers’ increasing panic. Seungmin held the door for Minho as they left.
Kim Seungmin → Lee Felix [11:18pm]
Kim Seungmin: You should’ve been more careful with the hickeys. Hyunjin’s like a bloodhound for stuff like this.
I had a good time, though. Let me know if you’re interested in doing it again
Lee Felix: ??
Kim Seungmin: Oh. Sorry, Felix. I clicked on the wrong Lee. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.
Lee Felix: ????????
Lee Felix: who would the right lee have been?
Lee Felix: hey seungmin
Lee Felix: haha this is pretty important
Lee Felix: seungmin can you respond
Lee Felix: seungmin
Lee Felix: hey hahah was it lee minho
Lee Felix: our coworker
Lee Felix: i’m HR you have to tell me about relationships
Lee Felix: legally
Lee Felix: or something
Kim Seungmin: That is not a law.
Lee Felix: seungmin did you have sex with lee minho
Kim Seungmin: Yes.
Venmo [11:43pm]: Han Jisung sent $4,000
Han Jisung → Kim Seungmin [11:44pm]
Han Jisung: thank u so much seungmin
Han Jisung: thank u
Han Jisung: i thought i was going to have to sell my soul to the devil to pay jeongin back
Han Jisung: thank u
Han Jisung: i love u
Han Jisung: too far?
Han Jisung: sorry
Han Jisung: thank u
Kim Seungmin: You’re welcome.
Kim Seungmin: If you value having money, I recommend not telling anyone about this.
Seungmin waited for the little shwoop sound that meant his text had sent before putting his phone on Do Not Disturb and setting it on the nightstand. “Okay.”
“It’s over?”
“Yep.” Seungmin laid back down on his back and stared at the ceiling. A job well done.
“Does this mean that we don’t have to pretend like we aren’t together?” Minho pouted. His hair was mussed and he was still slightly flushed. He was gorgeous.
“Correct. We’re in the clear.” A beat of silence. “Thank you for indulging me with this. I’m thinking that we could use the money to go on a trip for our anniversary.”
Minho sighed contentedly. “That sounds nice.”
Seungmin agreed.