welcome,

ever since then, you’d been stuck to this routine where you tried to one-up each other constantly. your manager called it “healthy competition”—while your cubicle mate thought you needed to fight or fuck and get it over with.

the worst part was, seungmin was actually good at his job—too good. he caught details everyone else missed, and his campaigns actually performed well. 

he was also unfortunately very attractive.

especially when he was focused.

not that you were paying attention or anything.

“you’re doing the thing again,” jiwoo said without looking up from her computer.

“what thing?” you quickly flicked your gaze away from him and onto jiwoo.

“the thing where you stare at seungmin and pretend you’re looking at the clock behind him.”

you kicked her chair and glared at her. “i’m not—the reports are due and i’m trying to see how stressed he looks.”

“uh-huh.” she spun around with a grin. “for someone who claims to hate him, you’re awfully interested in his stressed levels.”

seungmin showed up at your desk before you could answer, leaning against the partition with his arms crossed.

“you’re conversion rates are off,” he said, wearing that agitating smirk on his face. “might want to double-check before the meeting with your client.

“wow, what would I do without you?” you looked up from your screen. “did you factor in the holiday weekend, or did you forget people don't actually shop on christmas?”

his expression changed as you watched his ears turn pink—something you started noticing lately.

“i—” he straightened up and cleared his throat. “right. i'll fix mine right away then.”

“you’re welcome,” you said sweetly.

he muttered something under his breath and headed back to his desk, pulling his laptop towards him harder than he needed to.

flustering seungmin had become your favorite part of the day. he was so composed most of the time but you'd discovered he got easily thrown off when you pushed the right buttons. his ears turned red whenever you complemented his work. get too close while reviewing documents and he’d suddenly find something interesting on the ceiling. flirt with him instead of argue and he'd completely malfunction.

you couldn't help yourself.

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"that's mine," seungmin said, reaching for a sheet as it slid into the tray.

"no, that's—" you reached for the same paper and your fingers touched. he jerked back like you'd shocked him. "actually, yeah, that's yours."

the printer continued its sluggish work, and you both stood there. you leaned against the counter, blocking the output tray.

"you're in my way," he said, but made no effort to go around you. “move.”

"am I?" you didn't move, just smiled up at him. "you could say please."

for a second, something flickered across his face—something that made your stomach flip. then he leaned down, close enough that you could smell his cologne, and said quietly, "please move before I make you."

you just stared at him. 

he pulled back with that stupid smirk back, grabbing his papers and leaving you standing there like an idiot.

okay.

so he could push back.

good to know.

the meeting went fine—both of your numbers were corrected, and they loved the campaign concepts. your manager praised the team's “collaborative energy," which made you question whether he was blind or just oblivious.

walking back to your desks, seungmin matched your pace.

"not bad," he said casually.

"was that a compliment?" you questioned with a slight grin on your face.

"don't get ahead of yourself." he was almost smiling, "your presentation skills are getting better.”

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after that, things changed. the bickering didn't stop, but it felt different. he started bringing you coffee when he got his tea, always claiming the cafe messed up his order even though it was made exactly how you liked it. you'd leave sticky notes on his monitor with ridiculous corrections just to make him laugh. during late nights at the office, you'd end up working side by side, complaining about management.

"this is pathetic," you said one evening. the office was dark except for your desks. It was past nine and you were both working on the quarterly report. "we need to find something better to do."

"speak for yourself. i have hobbies,” he countered, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“right,” you said in a sarcastic tone, "whatever you say."

"i'll have you know i'm very interesting outside of work," he said, but he was smiling too. "i have... interests."

"name one," you leaned forward in your chair.

"photography.”

"seriously?" you asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"why do you sound so surprised?" he leaned back in his chair, stretching. you tried not to notice his shirt pulling across his chest. "i'm a man of many talents."

"name two then.” you quickly fired back.

"making you speechless, apparently." he was looking at you now, eyes dark.

"i’m never speechless, you just catch me off guard." you rolled your chair closer to his desk, "besides, i could say the same about you."

"what's that supposed to mean?" he frowned, narrowing his eyes at you

"please. you get flustered every time i stand within three feet of you."

"i do not get flustered—"

"your ears are literally pink right now.”

he reached up self-consciously, which only proved your point. "that's—it's warm in here."

"it's like sixty degrees,” you replied. “they turn the ac up at night."

"has anyone ever told you you're incredibly annoying?" he muttered.

"you. constantly." his jaw tightened as his eyes dropped to your mouth. 

"has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar?"

"I'm not lying—"

"seungmin." you said his name softly. "do i make you nervous?"

neither of you moved. 

"you drive me insane," he said finally. "that's not the same thing as being nervous."

"what is it then?"

"i don't know," he said quietly. "you tell me. what am i doing to you right now?"

your breath hitched. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" he smiled, but it wasn't smug this time. 

"you've been messing with me for months. "saying things and looking at me like that during meetings. you think i didn’t notice?"

"looking at you like what?" you whispered, suddenly aware of the space between you.

"like you're trying to figure something out." he stood up, and you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. 

"did you? figure it out?"

you stood too. "maybe i did."

"and?"

"and I think you're just as bad as me." you stepped closer. "i think you bring me coffee because you like doing it. i think you stay late because i'm staying late. i think—"

he kissed you.

or maybe you kissed him. you weren't sure who moved first, just that his hands found your waist and yours were fisted in his shirt. he kissed like he was proving a point— you bit his bottom lip just to get back at him and he whimpered into your mouth.

"this is—we shouldn't—" he said against your mouth, but he didn't pull away.

"probably not," you agreed, then kissed him again.

he walked you backward until you hit the desk, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing against your ribs. you tugged him closer by his belt loops and he groaned, breaking away to trail kisses down your jaw.

"you're so—" he muttered against your neck, "....infuriating."

"i could say the same about you."

a/n: could u tell i was listening to overtime by bryson tiller while making this..