Chapter Text
// + //
"Consider a world," Seungcheol starts seriously, hands clasped in front of him as if he were in a sacramental confessional, and not the spare office behind Marketing that no one's used for three years. There's a thick layer of dust clinging to every available furniture item and Seungcheol is perched delicately on a stool as if he was worried about it staining his corduroy pants. "Where my employees are sane people."
"It's not the world I live in." He continues. "But my therapist tells me I need a happy place to go to."
// + //
Junhui fiddles with the chain by his ear a bit. "Your glasses are pretty today."
Which, typically, when Junhui called something pretty, like his face, or his lips, it meant he wanted to come on it. Minghao blinks up at him, and Junhui's eyes dip to his mouth. "They're just the wire frames. But I have another pair with a chain and lenses at home."
His grin is quick and devastating as he pushes off the cubicle wall. "You should wear them tomorrow."
Minghao hums, ctrl-z's the several kerning adjustments he'd done over the course of Junhui's impromptu visit just to look like he was actually working, and says impassively, "I'll think about it."
“A-hem.”
“Ah, Seungkwan-ah, good morning.” Junhui switches back to Korean with a sigh.
He presses his lips together tightly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What are you doing in Advertising?”
“Jihoon asked me to hand in this month’s feedback report early.” Junhui responds easily, fluttering the sheaf of papers he was holding to his chest. The paperclip clinks against his tie bar and Seungkwan’s eye twitches. “What are you doing here?”
Seungkwan glares at them both with all the ferocity of a pomeranian. “I’m having breakfast with Chan. I didn't know Jihoon-ssi’s office was up Myungho-hyung’s ass.”
He manages to suppress the laughter without any visible signs of choking, but just barely, and keeps his head ducked close to his computer screen to hide it. Junhui doesn’t even try, and throws his head back with the force of it.
“Lighten up. It’s too early for the interrogation.” Junhui reaches over to pat Seungkwan genially on the shoulder, not at all afraid of being bitten like he probably should be. “I’m gonna be the one pitching whatever these guys come up with, I just wanted a little spoiler on the new ad campaign. A tiny one.”
“Mhmm, sure hyung.”
Minghao snorts into the back of his hand, but his face is blank by the time Seungkwan whirls back around.
// + //
Seungkwan sneers, one side of his upper lip pitching up. "Myungho-hyung thinks they're being all secretive but I know what's going on. And Jun-hyung isn't even trying to hide it."
“Finance is right behind Advertising, so every day I come in to bless Chan with my presence, and I have to pass Jun-hyung loitering in weird places. Yesterday he was under the ficus, inspecting the soil density he said. Firstly, it’s coir, and secondly, the ficus is fake.”
“It’s not subtle! He leaves every time I come in, or Myungho-hyung shoos him out — he’s waiting until I’m preoccupied with making sure Chan hasn’t died in the middle of writing one of Seungcheol-ssi's budget reports, then he goes to the 17th floor to steal the health bars I keep in my desk. I know it, Myungho’s in on it, I’ll catch them at some point as soon as I convince Wonwoo-hyung I have the right to look at the security footage.”
// + //
"Worried? About Seungkwan?" Minghao laughs, laying his palm flat in the air and waving it in front of his neck in some horizontal cutting motion, dismissive. "Hypothetically, if I did have something to hide, Seungkwan is a non-issue."
// + //
"Who does the HR rep complain to when they want to complain to HR?" Jeonghan directs to the camera, before blowing his hair off his forehead with a huff. "That was rhetorical. The boss. It's supposed to be the boss, anyway, but who it really comes down to is the boss' secretary. Because Seungcheol could not survive a day without me. He whimpers when his phone rings before 10:00AM because the coffee machine only stops pouring out rancid tar at 11."
He pulls a face at a cobweb dangling off the window shutter. "The couch I'm going to order is going on the company card. I am owed this. Two hours, I spent two hours on Seungkwan yelling about fucking granola bars."
// + //
Junhui tries to straighten up from where he’d been attempting to shimmy a loose m&m packet from the vending machine, and flounders a bit when his sleeve gets stuck in the slot.
The man by his side laughs at Junhui half bent over, hand trapped, and Junhui looks up, pouting. There’s a loud indignant protest that can be heard across the room though not made out. But it makes him laugh more, into his shoulder, before he crouches down next to Junhui, helping him jiggle his sleeve loose.
“What are you frowning about?”
Minghao frowns harder. “I’m not frowning.”
Seokmin leans over the dinky island in the middle of their office kitchen and pokes Minghao’s cheek. "You're gonna oversteep your tea."
“Mn.” Minghao grunts. "Do you know who that is?"
"Hm?" Mingyu looks up from the convenience store sandwich wrapper he's been fighting with for the last two minutes when Seokmin doesn't reply, pointing to himself with a blink, then looking over towards the vending machines. "Hey, that's Aobo! He's nice, did you know he's younger than us? Around Hansol's age, but he's so tall." He pouts, before he gives up and bites a hole into the paper and starts tearing it from there. Then, with all the transient attention of a newborn puppy, asks, "Hey, why's Hansol still an intern anyway? He's been here for, like, five years."
Junhui falls back onto his ass, freed from the machine, and Aobo stumbles trying to catch him. It's a lot of long, flailing limbs, and Seokmin doesn't really know what he's looking at. But apparently Minghao does, because he stiffens imperceptibly as the fiasco goes on.
Seokmin shoots Mingyu an unimpressed look. "You're in the same department and that's all you got?"
"You know I don't know the sales guys that well. I think he's Chinese too?" A piece of lettuce flops down onto the island counter between them, Seokmin backs up with a hand to his chest. "You should ask Junnie-hyung. He's super close with a bunch of them, they're always getting lunch together."
"Oh, okay. Thanks."
Seokmin drops his head into his hands. "Mingyu."
"What? What did I — Wait, hey, Myungho," Mingyu calls, "Myungho-yah! Your tea!"
// + //
"I used to be in Advertising," Mingyu says cheerfully, pointing a feather duster at the camera. He's working diligently on the left side of the room and inconspicuously avoiding the giant cobweb taking over half the window. "Me and Myungho, you know, we're a team. Until I got moved over to Sales because Seungcheol-ssi said everyone loves me and I'd do well there, which is nice? Our boss is always weirdly nice to me."
"But the sales guys are all kind of close knit." He attempts to lace his fingers together without letting go of the duster, and it clatters to the floor. He picks it up with little ceremony. "I'm only really close to Jun, because everyone does love Jun. Except Myungho? Or maybe especially Myungho. You know."
// + //
"Mingyu got transferred out of Advertising because the main circuit breaker of the whole building was on their floor and he kept giving Cheol-ssi heart attacks accidentally tripping it. I used to have to put up with him a lot before the move, whenever I came over to talk to Myungho — supplier relations, they always have some idea about how their product should get pitched, you get it." Seokmin says blandly, then attempts to look out the window forlornly only to recoil with a scream at the mass of cobwebs. It's a crisp high C. "What the f—"
"Whatever." He continues again, now on the far left end of the couch, brushing himself down habitually. "He has the face for it at least." Then his mouth pops open, and he cups his chin in a hand. "I never said that."
// + //
Junhui blinks as he's slammed against the closet door. "Hi?"
Minghao scowls up at him.
"Ah, don't mess me up too much," he giggles between the folding of Minghao's mouth over his own, and Minghao takes the opening to plunge his tongue in. "Minghao. I'm busy."
"Junhui," he says back, same tone, only slightly whiny, more demanding. Already slipping into the attitude he gets in when they do this. He palms him, already half hard, through his slacks and grins when Junhui thrusts up into his hand. "Since when do you care about work?"
"You know I'd never complain about your hands on me," Junhui whispers softly, as Minghao mouths down his neck, hands pulling restlessly at the zipper of his pants. "I — ah — just, Minghao, wait — I'm training the new hire."
Minghao stills, and Junhui uses the opportunity to grab his wrist, whirl them around until he's the one pressed up against the wall, Junhui's hot breath on his neck pinning him more than the grip on his arm twisted up behind him. Now he's the one who can't do anything but pant, as Junhui works on getting his fly open. "Aobo?"
"Hm?" Junhui hums into his skin, leaving a mark just low enough to get covered up by his shirt collar, but high enough to cause some anxiety over it. "Ah, yeah, I didn't know you knew him."
Whatever Minghao's reply to that was, it gets cut off by a sharp inhale as Junhui gets his fist around his shaft, pumping him relentlessly to full hardness. He squeezes the tip harshly, thumbing the slit and rubbing the bit of pre beading there back into the skin, and Minghao's head falls forward into the plaster. Minghao tries to buck backwards, before he bites off an upset groan, low in his throat, complaining, as Junhui avoids his ass, pushes him flatter against the wall. There's a broom digging into his leg.
"Junhui."
"I'm not being mean," he laughs breathlessly at the disbelieving whine he gets, pressing a kiss to his nape. He releases his grip on Minghao's arm, letting him collapse forward as he brings his hand around to fondle his balls, making Minghao's hips stutter, fucking wildly into his fingers. "I can't right now — was only supposed to be ten minutes but I can — here, come on, come for me."
Minghao comes with a stuttered cry, and Junhui cups his palm over the head to catch most of it, other hand coming up from his balls to milk him through the high.
"I really have to go," Junhui grins at the teary glare he gets, thrown over Minghao's shoulder, where he's hunched over trying to collect himself. It gets darker, when Junhui brings up his hand and licks a long stripe up his palm. Then he reaches behind him, for one of the rolls of toilet paper stocked up on the shelves to wipe up. "But I'll come find you after?"
Minghao still looks like he's in a mood about something, that not even the relief of an orgasm could dispel, but he bites his lip and nods, pushing Junhui out the door before he can ask about it.
Straight into Chan, holding a yogurt cup and looking down the hall as if he were being hunted for sport. But it seems he forgets all about that after he takes one look at Junhui and shrieks. "At least do up your pants!"
// + //
"Productivity goes up when Myungho's stressed." Jihoon takes a long sip from his bowl sized coffee mug, the concentration looks sludge-like but he drinks without pause. "He handed in five design drafts for the latest ad campaign after lunch. When I told him I didn't even ask him to do any of that he bullied Kyulkyung into giving him the assignment, came back and slammed the USB on my desk so hard I think it broke."
"So, Junnie probably did something." He raps his fingers on his knee for a beat, before pulling out his phone and typing furiously, despite continuing to sound impassive. "For some reason they like to pretend they've never talked to each other in their lives but that ship sailed when they subjected half the building to that stunt at last year's Christmas party. But Jun's sales have shot through the roof since, so can any of us really complain? Besides Seungkwan, but he's always complaining."
He stares at his phone screen for a long second, before stuffing it back in his pocket. "Well, Seungcheol just denied my third request for a new coffee machine, so he doesn't need to be reminded to lock his office up tonight. He's a grown man. If the boss wants to beg off work early he can suffer the consequences."
// + //
"Soonyoung," Junhui starts, batting his eyes.
Soonyoung squints at him suspiciously, hands paused over rearranging a series of mutli-coloured post-its within a boring looking accounting binder. This is not either of their desks. They're not even in Sales, not that Soonyoung works in Sales. "Yes?"
"Do you have the keys to the printer room?"
Junhui doesn't exactly know what Soonyoung does, around the office, but it's a safe bet to assume if anyone would have a set of keys to the building outside of janitorial, it'd be him.
His eyebrows pitch up, and he abandons his post-it adventures to stand up hurriedly. "Is it locked or did Hansol get something stuck in the doorframe again?"
Junhui purses his lips. He could've just done that. "No, but I might need to lock it."
The narrowed eyes are back. "Why."
"Printing," he says, like it's obvious, "to help Advertising out a little bit."
He needed to make something up to someone, and a room bigger than a closet was a nice treat.
Soonyoung throws both the keys and post-its right at his face.
// + //
His hands are thrown up over his head, arms tangled up in a half shrugged off suit jacket of a makeshift restraint that was doing far more for Minghao than he'd like to admit at any normal time. It's not that they aren't always rushing, but it feels more urgent today, Junhui unbuttoning his shirt before even loosening his tie, shoving his fingers in Minghao's mouth before he even got his pants off. His boxers are still hanging off his right ankle.
It's a little gratifying. Knowing that Junhui's been desperate for it since brushing him off to show the new guy around. Which Minghao knew wasn't even his job, and he had no real professional obligation to it. Junhui just got saddled with things like that so often because he's too nice to say no and the whole office knows it.
So, it serves him right, and it's serving Minghao pretty well right now.
Junhui splays a hand across his lower stomach, steadying, pressing, as he pushes in, and the added pressure makes him feel impossibly big inside of him. Impossibly deep. Minghao's thighs instinctively try to squeeze together where they are, wrapped around Junhui's waist, and he takes it as an urge to go faster. In a way it is, but Minghao's not prepared for it, and it makes his eyes roll back, makes a punched-out little moan sputter out of him.
"Ah, Hao, I've been thinking about you all day," Junhui pants wetly along his collarbone as he bottoms out, and Minghao feels the words burn like a forge low in his throat.
// + //
“I told Junnie if he ever got up to anything within breathing distance of my desk that he better be prepared to go home without any balls.” Jeonghan spears a fork through several lettuce leaves and a cherry tomato. “Then I gave him like, fifteen thousand won to fuck on Seungcheol’s.”
Then he waves the fork at the camera, vinaigrette flicking onto the table, eyes wide like he was trying to make a point. “He tells me a day later they’d already done that, but he still took my money.” He frowns as he pops it into his mouth, pausing to chew. “I think I was proud?”
“Like when your cat figures out how to manipulate your roommate for food outside of feeding time. You’re a little mad, but all you end up doing is wagging your finger at it and going you little devil, and then it gets a belly rub. That’s what being friends with Jun is like.”
"Meow." Junhui says from the other side of the couch, before getting preoccupied with separating a pair of disposable chopsticks with his teeth.
"See?" Jeonghan pats his hair, tutting until Junhui obliges him and bends down for easier access. "You better savour that meal you scammed me for, brat."
// + //
"Oh yeah, Jeonghan-hyung has a six foot soft spot for Jun." Hansol says, through half a mouthful of a nutri-grain bar meant for dietary supplementation. "Like, he could probably pull the fire alarm for kicks and hyung would still find a way to blame Mingyu for it. It happened a couple of times with the breakers."
He makes a face like he got a nut stuck in his teeth. "Chan? I mean, yeah, him too, when he's not pushing him around. Chan did set the microwave on fire once and hyung forgave him, but you should ask him why he's been on edge lately."
// + //
Chan's little plastic spoon falls out of his hands and plops sadly back into his yogurt cup. "Why are you asking me about Jeonghan-hyung? Did he ask you to ask me about him? Is this a test? Did he look like he expected a specific answer?"
"Did he ask you to bother me during our lunch break?" He says, eyes wide like someone coming down from an epiphany. "You know I've only gotten like fifteen minutes this entire week because Seungkwan wants me to sign off on a padlock for his desk and keeps cornering me to yell about it. It's not fair. All I've had time for is yogurt. My intestinal microflora are thriving but at what cost."
// + //
“Junhui please. I need to come. I need — I need,”
Junhui coos, rocking up into him. Minghao’s head drops with a cry, lolling on his neck. “And if I asked you to keep holding it? Plugged you back up and sent you home, told you the only time you could touch yourself was to clean me out of your hole. Would you?”
Minghao groans now, long and low and resigned, almost, digging so hard into his own thighs where he's holding himself open for Junhui that his fingernails flare white. He would, he would and it’s a devastating fact laid out between them now. Junhui feels a little lightheaded from it.
“I want to come.” He's complaining, face scrunched up in frustration, so upset he's choked up with it.
"You're so high strung." Junhui comments softly. "I just want you to relax, Minghao, focus on just this," he rolls his hips hard, angling up, and Minghao's eyes flutter from the shock of it, "just focus on me like this."
His head rolls limply out on the table, eyes screwed shut, lower lip pulled entirely into his mouth as he tries not to fuck back onto Junhui. Accepting Junhui was going to use him like this for his own ends and make him go home without coming. Even as the tip of his dick burns such a dark red it looks painful, bobbing with each of Junhui’s thrusts, leaking steadily across his stomach, and all the rest of his blood has rushed to his head in an effort to ignore it. And Junhui is maybe too soft for this, to follow along with what's being asked of him, because all he wants to do right now is spoil Minghao rotten.
The soft shocked little sob that punches itself out of Minghao's throat when Junhui finally wraps a hand around his shaft might be the best sound Junhui's ever heard, eyes flying open even as his jaw drops. He comes with a cry into Junhui's fingers and another as he feels Junhui follow inside of him.
Minghao pants, collapsed boneless and spread out on the table. Junhui peppers his face with kisses. "You held on for so long. Even when you hated it you tried so hard, that was —" He buries his face in Junhui's neck, letting Junhui hold him through the aftershocks, legs tightening around his waist as Junhui gently presses the plug back into him.
As his breathing slows, Junhui pulls back. "Minghao?"
"Hi," Minghao replies, lazy, a bit dazed. "That was..."
Junhui wiggles his eyebrows, his grin feels like it might split his face. "Good?"
A sharp hit to his shoulder, as Minghao comes back more to himself, though the giddy smile he's got on his face doesn't let up. "The hardest I've come in my life I think." His head falls back with a dull thump. "Wow."
"Pat yourself more on the back, why don't you."
"I didn't think I'd be that into it. I almost thought it would piss me off." Minghao says, only a little flustered. Mostly, he looks happy with himself. "Next time. Next time you need to make good on that promise, work me up the whole day and send me home, even if I beg. I think I — I really liked the sound of that."
He's a bit stunned, had been a bit worried about how that'd go over; none of their recreational activities have ever left the confines of the building, and it felt like a line was being crossed, bringing this into their ordinary lives. But then Minghao rubs his thighs together, and Junhui realises he was chubbing up again just from thinking about it.
Minghao sucks in a breath as Junhui takes him back in his hand, pumping slowly, letting him buck up into his loose fist. Junhui tries to pretend at surprise, but it comes out too sincere. "Oh, you really do."
"Come on," Minghao cups his jaw and pushes the words into his mouth, "come on, Junhui. Please."
"Anything you want." And that's a little too sincere, too.
// + //
Junhui sighs.
Wonwoo ignores him, so Junhui sighs again, louder.
He tilts his head until his neck hits the edge of the back of his chair, bringing his hands up to smother his face.
"It's good sex," Junhui rushes out. "It's really great sex. I don't know if I'll ever have better sex in my life."
Wonwoo stares at the ceiling, through the gaps in his fingers, and contemplates just dragging them down his face in unnecessary theatrics. But he is not Junhui, and he is not Soonyoung, and he will get through this. "I don't need to hear this."
"I just — I think I want something more? Which we've never really discussed." Junhui does a little 360 in the spinny chair he's sitting on. "As an option for us, I mean."
"Look, I let you come in here every morning to double check whether you got caught on one of my cameras only because I don't want to do it." Wonwoo tells him plainly, he would beg if he thought Junhui would be swayed at all by that but, as he's come to know against his will, Junhui only cares when one specific person begs to him. "You doing this right now undermines all of that. The whole I don't want to hear about your sex life part of that."
"Wonwoo," Junhui whines.
"Why don't you, I don't know, ask him?"
Junhui stares at him like he asked him to commit murder, or tell Jihoon he's the one that broke the coffee machine last Christmas, which would effectively be murder, of him. Frankly, Wonwoo thinks a lot of the problems around here would be solved if Junhui was just a little bit more forward about the things he wants.
He sighs. Junhui pouts, then goes back to scrubbing through the security tapes that Wonwoo has had his back turned to for the last half hour. Not facing him, Junhui starts talking again. "What if I talk to him — not even ask him out, if I ask him if there's a chance, and he decides there isn't."
Wonwoo leans over to leave a comforting pat on his shoulder, before saying, bluntly, "Then there isn't."
Junhui makes a high sound of distress in the back of his throat. He hears the springs in the chair squeak as he slumps. "I wouldn't exactly bring anything new to the table with it, we don't talk, he already gets the sex."
"You bring plenty to the table, you big baby."
In the edges of his peripheral Junhui's face contorts in disgust, shoulders hiking up like something cold ran down his back. "Don't do that."
"Uh huh. Sure." He dodges the arm that tries to slap at him. "Anyway, you can fix one of those, can't you?"
Junhui blinks, dropping the grimace. "Hm?"
"Talking to him. Like, it doesn't have to be anything big either, just be how you normally are around the office, be nice, show him you're a good guy."
"Wonwoo-yah," Junhui's eyes crinkle, "you want me to woo him?" And then he yells, getting bodily pulled up from his chair. "Wait, wait, wait, I still need to delete the footage!"
// + //
"Whoa, Myungho, that's a lot of tea." Jaehyun whistles.
Mingyu looks up from his microwave inspection just as Minghao flinches at being addressed, hands curling around a selection of artsy, tea leaf filled mason jars protectively. Mingyu chirps, brightly, "Oh, Jun-hyung bought those for the office!" and gets a quick elbow to his ribs. "Why?"
Seokmin shoots him a disgusted look, Jaehyun whistles lower and longer.
"Yeah," Minghao says, a little stilted but Mingyu figures he slept wrong or something. "They're for the office."
"Why'd you hit me?" Mingyu whines at Seokmin, who sneers at him. He gestures insistently at the microwave. "It's not like I'm going through all this trouble for you or anything."
Jaehyun decides to leave Minghao alone, bending down to look into the microwave with him. "Thought you already said there wasn't anything wrong with it?"
"Well there is, since it ruined my lunch." Seokmin flaps a hand at the microwave and Mingyu insistently, eyebrows pitching up in a way that pulls at his whole face, and ignoring Mingyu's first question entirely. "So obviously your help is useless, and I don't know why I asked."
"Hey," Seokmin's dramatics are cut off suddenly, and for the one bright second that Mingyu lives in a world where true friendship exists, he thinks that Minghao's about to defend him, but he's just looking at the vending machines again — more accurately, slightly to the left of the vending machines, "who's that?"
He hears Seokmin mutter, "Not again," behind him but Jaehyun tilts his head, confused, "I thought you knew Chenle?"
Minghao clicks his tongue. "Not him, the girl next to them."
Now that he's mentioned it there is a girl there. Not by the vending machines, really, they were crowded around the watercooler. Mingyu didn't spot her the first time because her and Junhui were both hunched over their phones and the angle half hid her, but also she was like three apples tall at most. It looks like both her and Junhui were taking turns yelling at their phones and at Chenle on rotation.
Jaehyun claps. "Oh, I think that's his sister? Yi—something. The temp agency he used sent her to IT recently and he's been showing her around. Junhwi-ssi's there because he's always just there when new people come in."
Minghao blinks. "The younger one?" When Jaehyun nods he relaxes against the counter, looking back down at his tea. "That's — good."
"You cannot be serious." Seokmin says. It looks like he's talking to the ceiling.
Chenle points at something on Junhui's screen before accidentally knocking it out of his hands, and the girl reels her hand back in preparation to spike her own phone at his head. Junhui holds her by the arm as Chenle cowers on the floor. It looks like they're having a lot of fun, in Mingyu's opinion. Sort of like how he, Minghao, and Seokmin joke around.
"Myungho-yah." Seokmin begins seriously, a little pityingly, after dumping his fried rice in the trash bin, hands clasped in front of him and pressed to his lips.
"What." It's not a question. It's barely a reply. Minghao's eyes are wide and he's looking at Seokmin the way scared dogs look at screaming toddlers approaching them.
"Jun-hyung is gay."
Jaehyun snorts. Mingyu and Minghao's brows furrow.
"Shouldn't he already know this?" Jaehyun says, at the same time Mingyu goes, "Why does that matter right now?" and Minghao asks, "Are you sure?"
And now all three of them are staring at Minghao, rapidly turning the shade of a beet.
// + //
Seokmin opens the door, looks at the camera, and with all the flair of someone with a minor in theatre, throws a tissue into the room and goes, "I give up!"
// + //
Mingyu picks up the tissue, sitting on the couch gingerly. "I just — I didn't get why Seokmin brought it up, but I thought it was — they were — he really didn't know?"
// + //
"No, no — no one is giving me the benefit of the doubt, he could've been bi. That's all I meant." Minghao defends himself staunchly, wagging his finger at the camera and pacing up and down the room. "Which is a fair assumption, I'm bi? Anyway, why does everyone assume that's — that that's something I should know, about Junhui? Or that it's my business what his sexuality is. So he's gay! Good for him!"
"I didn't think he'd go after a girl barely out of school anyway! So the point — which — not that I care about who he dates either. That's not — I see you peeking through the blinds, Kim Mingyu!"
// + //
Minghao eyes the drink, pausing on the coffee bean logo, uncharacteristically hesitant, and looking a bit regretful. "Thank you, but I don't —"
"Ah," Junhui realises, "no, it's not coffee." Shakes it a little, for emphasis. "Green tea latte."
It's kind of funny, how immediately his eyes brighten. "Oh. Then, thanks."
"Also the latte already has milk in it, but I heard from Gyu-yah you had a pretty sensitive stomach? And it's bad to drink green tea on an empty one, so," Junhui waves around the accompanying croissant that Minghao had ignored when he'd first handed over the cup. Dairy is also something that sets off bad stomachs, though that doesn't occur to Junhui until right after Minghao picks up the cup off the tabletop. It probably won't be an issue.
More importantly, there's more stunned staring. It's very cute.
"You're getting crumbs everywhere." Is what Minghao says finally, and Junhui yelps.
Minghao laughs as Junhui carefully unfolds the croissant napkin on the table to set it down, and he thinks he might be a little screwed, now that he's started paying attention to how it pushes his eyes up.
Then Minghao licks his lips. And Junhui notices something else.
"Um," he points to his own face, "you have a little —"
"Oh?" Minghao licks his lips again, slower. "Did I get it?" Junhui makes a choked off noise that decidedly does not pass as an answer, but Minghao smiles like he gave one all the same. He juts his chin out a little, an invitation. "Can you show me?"
"I — sure."
Junhui brushes a finger along the corner of his mouth, gathering the bit of foam there, watching Minghao’s eyes downcast, tracking his hand, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. His lips part easily, accept Junhui’s fingers readily, the instant they push at the seam with a long drawn breath, swallowing Junhui up to the first knuckle.
At some point Minghao hollows his cheeks, sucking hard, moaning quietly as Junhui obliges and drags his fingers back and forth down on his tongue. This isn't how he planned this conversation to go. The idea had been to ask Minghao out for dinner, not fingerfuck his mouth in the office lounge, but things always tend to end up this way between the two of them.
"Anyone could walk in right now," Junhui whispers, hopelessly charmed, using his other hand to cup Minghao's jaw. He tilts his head up, so the angle was a little more unforgiving, so he had to work a little more to keep from choking. "Anyone could see you, is that what you want? Distracting yourself with my fingers."
Minghao responds with a groaned assent, and more deliberate sucking. Junhui watches as he starts rocking his hips in small discreet circles, grinding down into his chair.
His eyes open with a series fluttering, startled blinks when Junhui presses a kiss to his forehead, letting Junhui pull his fingers out to rest on his lower lip with little resistance. They're immediately cold and uncomfortably sticky, outside the heat of Minghao, but Junhui doesn't really care when Minghao's mouth is as shiny and ruined as it is, when his eyes are as dazed as they are.
"Think anyone's using that conference room?" The skin under the pads of his fingers stretches and pulls with Minghao's grin.
// + //
"Aw, you're trying to court him." Jeonghan coos from his desk, looking up from where he's cutting a bunch of red tablets into pieces with an exacto knife. Joshua squints at him with mild suspicion, but if Jeonghan hadn't told him already, he wouldn't tell him for another three to seven weeks, past the time anyone can stop him, so he elects to ignore it.
Junhui huffs from where he's sprawled across Seungcheol's too-low-to-be-anything-but-decorative waiting room coffee table, cross legged on the floor, cheek pillowed on his forearms and puffing up. "Trying, sure."
"What's the problem, Junnie?" Jeonghan turns back to his mess, now pulling out a spoon and crushing it into powder. "Tell your favourite hyung and his sidekick."
"That's not a nice thing to say about yourself." Joshua says, dry.
"You will never be as funny as me."
Junhui rolls his upper body across the table, like a loose pencil about to fly off the edge. Joshua has the urge to dive off the couch just to grab him, stop him from knocking into the elaborate flower centrepiece and keep him still. But he settles on patting his back comfortingly. Freezes, when Junhui groans, "Every time I try to talk to him it turns into sex."
"For many people, that is the opposite of a problem." Jeonghan replies kindly, scooping up the powder onto a tiny paper square.
"Are you drugging someone?" Joshua asks, still deciding on whether or not to be horrified. "I know that's not for you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Junhui ignores the both of them, running his hands through his hair in an anxious, restless movement. "It just highlights that we don't really have anything else to do with each other, he doesn't think there's any other reason for us to interact — not even to be friends. Doesn't that make it feel kind of hopeless?"
"I'm sure it's not hopeless, Junnie —"
"Chenle told me that Jaehyun told Donghyuck that Minghao didn't even know I was gay."
Jeonghan is temporarily stunned into silence. Which is a feat in itself. Joshua forgets about the powder to share a silent, concerned look with him, before he gets up from his desk and joins them in front of the table. Joshua wraps an arm around Junhui's shoulders. "I think you should just —"
"Shut up." Jeonghan claps his hands. "I've got the perfect solution. You talk to him, and then don't let him get a word in edgewise."
They both blink at him. Joshua feels a headache manifest in his right temple.
"That's your issue, right? He keeps taking all your romantic advances as sexual ones." Jeonghan pats Junhui's head kindly. "So don't let him. Charm him and dip. Listen to your favourite hyung, I would never advise you to do something out of truly malicious intent."
The worst part about Jeonghan, Joshua thinks, is he actually means that.
// + //
"Why's he being so weird?" Minghao says around the tip of his index finger caught between his teeth, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Well, it's Junhui, he's always — not weird. He’s just a bit blunt, and does what he wants, but —"
"You don't mind, right? This has to be more interesting than Seokmin crying about no one eating his cupcakes last week, or Hansol staring off into space for ten minutes, or whatever the others do when they're in here." Minghao nods, having convinced himself, dismissing the camera with a wave of his hand. "It's just been freaking me out. Junhui's been — super nice lately? Disturbingly thoughtful. Yesterday he came up to me all, I got groceries over the weekend and picked up that brand of herbal medicine you mentioned five months ago, also seven more types of tea for the office kitchen, loose leaf, even though you’ve never seen me drink anything that didn’t come out of a can, so feel free to help yourself — stuff like that, and then he just leaves! It's been five days of this, too, and we haven't even —"
He cuts himself off with a cough, going slightly red at the ears. "And I — It's not like I didn't know he was — nice. It's Junhui. His reputation precedes him when it comes to being all," he does some wiggly jazz-hand-esque motion. "It's why I feel so comfortable, um, having the arrangement that we do. And he's always been — kind to me, just not to this extent, I feel like I'm being buttered up, like he's preparing for some —"
His hands drop, face falling into a sort of muted horror. "Does he want to break things off?"
// + //
"Saw Myungho-hyung tackle Jun-hyung into the bathroom down the hall on my way in." Hansol sips loudly from his straw, then grimaces at the taste. "That was probably the only interesting thing that happened here today."
He sloshes the iced americano around in his hands a bit before taking another sip. "Oh, wait. Someone left their hole puncher at my desk. That's cool. Now I have two." He keeps the straw in long enough to make a high suction sound, shooting the camera a pressed smile.
// + //
Junhui lays reclined with one leg propped over the armrest and his head against the other, arm thrown over his forehead, as if he were on a fainting couch instead of a spare half dust half spider filled marketing office. His shirt is rumpled and his hair is sticking up in every direction. The latch on his belt isn't threaded through properly. "Yeah, Minghao definitely only wants me for the sex."
Then he shoots the camera a sympathetic look. "Hope you're fine with everyone in the building using you as free therapy. Seokmin's waiting outside for his turn like an abandoned puppy, go easy on him? The cupcake incident was a real blow to his self-esteem."
// + //
Junhui stills as he hears a barrage of footsteps in the hallway outside, mentally cursing as they pause.
"So what if I work in HR? Does that mean I'm not entitled to my own privacy? The safety of my own property?"
"I told you already, when the next monthly finance meeting comes up you're not the one who has to answer questions like why does that secretary need a biometric safe for his granola bars? Do you think that's a good allocation of company funds? Can you really write this off as a work expense when the tax audit comes up?"
"I am the HR Admin. They're not granola bars. There's real fruit in them. And if they keep getting stolen on company property the company should reimburse me."
"Can you let me eat my yogurt in peace?"
"Fuck you."
Minghao slaps a hand over his own mouth, and Junhui snorts. “Shut up,” he hisses, through the gaps of his fingers, but Junhui sees the smile threatening to break through, his lips wobbling with the strain of holding it back.
It's not the most comfortable position to be stuck in without the immediate distraction of a fast fuck, Minghao's legs wrapped around his waist, back pushed up against the wall for leverage, with his only limited support being Junhui's hands on his ass, his dick splitting him open. Junhui's sure he's really feeling the lack of lumbar support right now. The closet is too tiny to even turn around in, and with the way they're pressed up against the door he can't put Minghao down without making noise. Junhui can see his thighs quivering with the strain of holding himself up, sweat beading along the lean muscle.
Because he's feeling a little bit like giving Minghao a hard time, he shifts, slowly rolling his hips, and Minghao's hand clamps harder on his mouth, muffling the gasp, his chin dropping down to his chest. His shoulders jump up to his ears and it jerks him down the wall, dropping him further on Junhui's dick, knocking another breath out of him. The shirt he still has on rucks up with it. Junhui leans down and nips at his earlobe.
"How quiet do you think you can be?" Junhui whispers, and has the delight of watching Minghao's pupils blow wide before he thrusts once, hard, and his whole face screws up with his effort. Junhui picks up a steady pace, carefully, nothing but short shallow thrusts because the sound of skin slapping together isn't easily mistaken for anything else, but it's enough for the purposes of driving Minghao crazy, enough to tease, enough to rut against his prostate with the force to bring him to the brink but not over.
Every so often Minghao lets out a whimper before biting down hard on his lip, and Junhui would kiss him to soothe it if that were the point right now. But Minghao wants him to watch him do this, he likes rising to a challenge, proving something. When Junhui's hips stutter as he comes he presses in deep for the first time since they started this, and Minghao's mouth drops open, his forehead hitting Junhui's chin. His chest heaves with the silent scream, before Junhui's kissing him long and hard as a reward for a job well done.
It's been a while since the hallway outside's been quiet, but Junhui slides them both down carefully anyway, resting Minghao on top of his thighs as he kisses him, still curved pressed up against Junhui and the door. He takes the dick that's been dribbling across Minghao's stomach and pumps him lazily, muffling the noises with his own mouth now, keeping him quiet, until he finishes across his own chest with a small whine.
Junhui cleans them up to the best of his ability with what they have, and they're usually lucky with these things, supply closets tend to have a ton of toilet paper, but not this one, which is so cramped it only houses a broken vacuum, lysol, and a bulk crate of miraculin tablet bottles. Minghao makes a face when Junhui wipes his torso down with his boxers.
"I'll just go without them, if you were worried." Junhui says easily, and Minghao rolls his eyes.
"Who'd be worried about you?" He throws back, buttoning his shirt back up once his chest is clear. "You're the most shameless person I've ever — ah —"
He glares viciously at Junhui, after he'd pulled out in the middle of his sentence, and Junhui grins as he ties the condom off. "You were saying?"
Previously, this was the point where Minghao would play look out as Junhui cleared the area, before herding him quickly into a bathroom to actually wash up, and maybe mess around a bit more. It was nice, both of them relaxed and pliant against each other, and usually they talked a bit more too, casual banter for casual touching.
Lately, though, Minghao can't seem to get away from him fast enough.
Minghao's already half out the door when he thinks to say, "Well, Jihoon-ssi has a huge project he said he wanted to see me for."
"Okay," Junhui doesn't bother getting up from the floor, just like he doesn't bother telling him Jihoon has been out since lunch, "hope it goes well for you."
He doesn't look back. "Yeah."
// + //
"I haven't seen Jun-hyung around Advertising lately." Seungkwan crosses his legs primly, shifting uncomfortably on his wooden stool. "Now I walk out the elevator and see Myungho-hyung pop out of his cubicle like a meerkat, make an awkward face when he spots me, then sit back down."
"It's weird." He taps his shoe, making a sour face. "Because my nutri-bars are still going missing. So my hypothesis is Jun-hyung got someone else in on the actual heist aspect of it, and now just has Myungho relay when I show up on his floor. Big mistake, 'cause hyung's a shit actor, and can't hide his disappointment at all."
"But the biggest problem here is who did they bring in? Who would do this to me, that wasn't already? I can trust none of these people." He scowls furiously at Jeonghan sprawled across the entirety of the couch. "They're all snakes."
"Kwan-ah," Jeonghan begins, eyes closed but likely sensing he was being glared at, "I already said this wasn't my issue. Talk to Chan, remember? Now let me nap, I bought this couch for a reason."
"I hope you get eaten by the spiders in here."
// + //
"Yeah, it's been hard to miss Myungho sulking." Mingyu starts, uncomfortable but determined, a bit like he was guilty. He takes a sip from the personal coffee mug he keeps on his desk, sleek black and marked in white paint splatter, with World's Worst Best Friend spelled out in hand cut newspaper clippings as if it were the product of a serial killer. "He started the avoidance thing first, but now that Jun-hyung's following his lead it's a problem. Seokmin saw him moping into his tea during lunch, rolled his eyes and left the room, dunno what that's about."
"Junnie-hyung will be alright, I think." He pouts, then stares very hard at the floor. "He bounces back from most things, like a slinky, just keeps moving. Or was that sharks. A shark is too hardcore for him, maybe one of those baby ones you see in touch pools at the aquarium that eat shrimp. That's what Jun-hyung is."
His brows furrow, and he taps the sides of his mug with restless energy. "And look, Myungho is the type of person who thinks he can do casual. But there's no way. He's too territorial, and has an obsessive streak a mile long. That's why I'm not worried, even if he has the social skills of a constipated toad. Or a barnacle, if we keep the aquarium theme. All protective shell, but he'll stick to one place for life. I think they'll be fine."
"These are really unattractive metaphors, but he also stole my hole puncher so I'm not really feeling the whole bros before hoes thing today." He pauses, before levelling a shaking palm at the camera, panicked. "Not that I'm calling you a hoe, you know, just metaphorically. Jun-hyung might be a hoe literally, though."
Joshua stares at him from where he has a hand propped against the door frame, expression a mix of horrified and reluctantly impressed. "Is this what you're always like when you're in here?"
// + //
The face Junhui makes when the elevator doors open makes his stomach curdle.
It's definitely the sort of face you make at a problem you just don't want to confront right now — a deadline you didn't want to be reminded of, the office coffee machine when it starts screeching for its allotted twelve minutes a day, Seungkwan. Minghao presses his lips together and up, Junhui puts on his salesman smile when he steps in, and Minghao hates it so much he crowds up into Junhui's space, pushing him against the wall out of blind panic and sheer bullheadedness, the second the elevator doors shut behind him.
It's worth it for the way Junhui melts against him, hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, because he likes to be the one to lead them into a kiss. It's familiar, some semblance of their normal. He grabs at Junhui's waist and even through the too many layers it feels good to dig his fingers in, hold them together so tightly Junhui's head hits the wall with a thunk when he comes up to breathe.
"Someone's eager," Junhui huffs a laugh, and he manages to catch a flash of Junhui's grin, easy, happy, before he leans in to mouth at his jaw. Minghao feels weak with the relief, letting Junhui hold him up.
"I missed," and there's a litany of sexy, dirty-talk related things he could say here, or just something simple like your body, or your mouth, or even your face, but what ends up coming out is just a quiet, "I missed you," that has Junhui stunned pink Minghao can't even be embarrassed about it.
"Oh," Junhui's eyes flutter down at him, and there's a shy twist to his mouth Minghao wants to eat but when he tries Junhui holds him back by the shoulders, eyebrows pinched and regretful. He holds up a USB clutched in his hand apologetically. "I have to get this to Seungcheol-ssi."
Minghao extracts himself from Junhui slowly, already nodding numbly as he watches Junhui lean over to finally press the button for Seungcheol's floor. "Ah, sure."
His other hand comes up to rub the back of his head. "Later —"
"Sure." Minghao agrees, too quick. Junhui's still smiling at him, hesitant, and he doesn't know what propels him to say, "You haven't been coming by, in the mornings. Lately."
"It's been pretty busy," Junhui bites his lip, rocking on his heels. "Xiao Yi cashed in her absurd number of vacation days out of the blue so Sales has been short staffed the last week. That's what I'm seeing Seungcheol-ssi about, our monthly quota — you're looking at the sacrificial lamb."
It takes him a minute to link the name with the tiny rabbit-like girl he's seen bouncing around Junhui a couple of times, before he works very hard to school his face. It takes him another minute to remember what Seokmin told him, that a nickname couldn't mean anything, because Junhui wasn't interested in women. Junhui, for his part, focuses on the blinking floor number. Continues, without looking at him, "But I can start coming by to disturb you again Monday, probably. Since you missed me."
"Who said I wanted you to?" He scoffs. It's too soft. "I was just curious."
"Sure," Junhui agrees, also too quick. Minghao has the sudden irrational fear he took it to heart.
"That was —" His apology goes down like nails. "It's dull, when you're not around. Seungkwan doesn't freak out nearly as much."
Junhui smiles gently. Minghao presses his lips together and ducks his head.
// + //
"I told him that Seungcheol-ssi has been trying out this new everyone listens to their best friend management strategy, he's been nagging Chan to call him hyung all week with no luck. Chan's gotten really good at diving behind corners." Minghao picks idly at a piece of lint stuck to the couch. "So if Junhui wanted to butter our boss up, he should probably try that."
"That's all we did, in the elevator. Talk." He pinches something off the cushion and throws it at the window, where it gets stuck in the cobwebs. "What was I doing there in the first place? I pressed the wrong button, sue me. I've only been working here five years. It happens."
// + //
Junhui's signature boxy grin is slightly strained around the edges, as if the muscles were locked in place. One of Seungcheol's arms looks to be bearing its entire weight across his shoulders. Due to their height difference it pushes Junhui down like an accordion, his legs are bent awkwardly as they hobble to the elevators.
Seokmin whistles low, pressing himself further against the wall and into the shadowy corner of the table they're sitting at. "I'm pretty sure," he whispers, "this counts as workplace harassment."
"Take it up with HR." Jeonghan responds dully as he looks through the takeout bags. Seokmin makes a face. He's got a working theory that Seungkwan's file cabinet consists of a paper shredder and a paper shredder alone.
Minghao, interestingly, looks immeasurably guilty as he eats his cucumber sandwich.
Seungcheol pats Junhui's cheek, making a low pitying noise. "Have you been eating enough, Junnie? You've gotten so thin."
"Ah," Junhui starts shaking his head emphatically, because he's a good actor, the very best Sales has to offer, and will lay down his dignity for his department, even if that means batting his big eyes at the boss. "No, we've been so swamped lately trying to meet the new quota before November, you know, I've been working through lunch all week. Look, you can practically see my skull."
He sucks his cheeks in, lips puffing out like a fish. Seungcheol frowns, straightening up a little.
"Hyungnim." Junhui adds, quickly, voice four octaves deeper on account of him still trying to keep up the fish look. Seungcheol frowns harder, Junhui's mouth purses tighter. "Hyung."
Seungcheol slaps him on the shoulder so hard Junhui's knees almost buckle. He catches himself with a hand on the wall in the nick of time. Seokmin almost wants to clap, Minghao hisses in sympathy pain, Jeonghan is uncapping the lid of a smoothie unfeelingly and ignoring the rest of the room. "That's too much. We can't have that, I'll see what I can do. For today though you can join me for lunch."
Junhui's smile looks as if it's painted on his face. It's starting to look a little Stepford. "Sure, boss. I mean — hyung. Sure."
"Myungho," Seokmin does clap now. Only quietly. Only for their little table in the corner of the building cafeteria. "Go take Jun-hyung out for lunch."
Minghao chokes on a cucumber. "What?"
Seokmin thanks Jeonghan profusely for the smoothie he offers him, before stealing the three quarters of a sandwich out of Minghao's hand. "Go rescue him."
"Hey!" It's a cucumber sandwich, Seokmin does not deserve to get looked at as if he just snatched a newborn over a cucumber sandwich. "I can't just — Lunch? With him? — I can't —"
"You can, he'd appreciate it, you'd look like a hero, Myungho, come on."
He ends up shoving Minghao out of his seat by kicking at his legs. Seokmin doesn't actually hit him, but he knows Minghao is so particular about how he looks he wouldn't risk the footprints on his black slacks, and he's right. Minghao jumps about two feet in the air. Now Jeonghan claps.
Jeonghan isn't quiet about it. Junhui and Seungcheol both turn at the noise. Minghao looks like he might try to throw himself out of a window.
"Minghao?" Junhui's eyebrows pitch up in concern.
From behind him Seokmin sees the back of Minghao's neck flush up. "Say something," he whispers through the side of his mouth, urgently. Now Minghao looks like he might throw him out of a window.
"Um," Minghao flounders, because he's not a good actor, and has apparently forgotten ever talking to another human being in his life. "Lunch."
Seungcheol's eyes light up to the point they're practically sparkling. "Did you want to join us?"
"No." Seokmin's a little worried Minghao might get them all fired. But now that he's started talking he has to move closer, at least has enough common sense left in him to not shout across the room at his boss. "No, I meant, me and Jun-hyung. Had lunch — plans. He forgot."
Junhui blinks so quickly Seokmin's convinced he can't see anything in front of him. But he's considerably better at improv. "Oh! Oh, yes! Sorry, Seungcheol-ss—hyung. We were planning on — There was this Sichuan place we both wanted to try, and of course you're welcome to come too but it's —"
"Spicy." Minghao interjects, because Seungcheol starts looking between them as if he were really considering it. His eyes drift a little further, behind the pair, Seokmin even feels them pass over him, and then a little to the right. "Super spicy."
"Ah," Seungcheol sighs with his whole body, leaning back. "That's a shame, I'll join next time, then, Junnie." He gives Junhui another impossible clap on the shoulder before he finally goes up to the elevator buttons. Expecting it now, Junhui only stumbles slightly. "Shua should still be around."
Seungcheol waves as the doors close. Junhui slumps against the wall, Minghao's arms jerk up a little like a robot malfunctioning, as if they wanted to catch him but didn't quite make it in time, and Junhui laughs into his hands.
// + //
"Let me just say, I'm Myungho's best friend in the world." Seokmin says in a grave, grave voice, pointing forward with the straw of his smoothie cup. "But if Jun-hyung ever smiled at me like that I would take him for myself."
"But I really am his best friend. Myungho would never make a move on his own." He sighs, cupping his cheek with his other hand not holding the cup. "It's hard sometimes, I went through a rough patch in the middle there — it was a test of strength, mental strength, I was being tested — but in the end I believe in love."
Jeonghan coos, as Seokmin holds a determined fist in front of himself. He has a different smoothie in his hand, less red. "That's cute, Minnie. I just think it's funny."
Seokmin immediately grimaces at the comment, and tries to hide it by taking a long sip, and then squints. "Have the smoothies from this place been getting sweeter?"
Jeonghan shrugs. "Maybe they changed the recipe."
// + //
Seungcheol peeks out of his office doorway. "Sorry for like, calling you up here, it was one floor though and that camera can't possibly weigh that much —"
The tape cuts off into static before the picture snaps back, frame slightly tilted. Seungcheol is shaking his hands in front of him like he'd accidentally leaned on a stove. "Ow, okay, what — don't you have a handheld? Or something. Just use an iphone, the camera's good enough."
"Anyway, I called you up here for a meeting," he brings both his hands up, fingers curving to mime exaggerated quotation marks by his temples, it makes him look a little bit like a kid pretending to be a bunny, "but really I just don't want Jeonghan to know I was talking about him. Did you see the look he gave me during lunch? I had to ditch my plans, I thought I was going to die."
// + //
"Did you know Minghao pretty much only eats salads?" Junhui looks at his phone, scrolling through something, before brandishing it forward, other hand cupped under it as if he were preparing for a product pitch. There's a long thin line splintering out from the corner across the glass. On the screen is an unaware Minghao working through a plate of boiled broccoli and nothing else. "I don't know how he lives like this."
"Ah, wait, this one's cute." Junhui eagerly flicks to the next picture, which is where Minghao is mid-shout, reaching for the screen. It's a liveshot that ends with Junhui's phone camera spinning around in a blur and hitting the table.
He brings his phone down back onto his lap, biting down on a smile. "It was fun."