storymonger (80s child) 🔞

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Probably Seungkwan, wanting to know where he is. He ignores it.

You pick up one of the tiny cakes, gently pulling it apart into two halves before popping one into your mouth. “You really don’t know who I am?” 

He shakes his head. Why do you keep asking him that? Did you meet before, and he somehow managed to forget you? He’s starting to feel bad, like he should know you. It can be hard to keep track of names in this industry - god knows how many people he’s met over the years. But he’s pretty sure he’d remember your face, at the very least. 

You chew thoughtfully. “Why did you help me back there?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. Well, that’s not entirely true. He knows part of it. He thought you were going to get caught, and it bothered him, so he stepped in. But he doesn’t know why it bothered him. “I thought you might need help. Those caterers can be mean.” 

You laugh. “I think I could’ve handled her. Besides, I’m kind of her boss.”  You gesture to the tray. “You can have one, if you’d like.” 

Minghao’s stomach is starting to rumble, so he selects one of the little cakes and pops it into his mouth. It’s sweet and crumbly, chocolate coated in dark ganache, and he washes the whole thing down with a swig of his champagne. “You’re one of the caterers? Like their manager?” 

“No. But I hired them for the party.” 

“So then, you work for…” 

“The CEO,” you finish. “I’m his assistant.” 

If you’re The CEO’s assistant, then…. “Then you weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t need my help.” 

“Nope.” You grin. “But it was sweet of you to help me out anyway.” You offer him the tray again. “Want another one?” 

Minghao takes a second cake gratefully. Maybe he should’ve raided the dinner service section of the kitchen before you’d brought him up here. He’s getting hungry. His half-empty belly means the champagne’s going straight to his head, which would explain the unusual lightness he’s feeling right now. 

“That’s me,” he says, licking a bit of ganache from his thumb. “I’m very sweet.” 

You snort. “Please. I’ve seen your interviews.” 

“Hey!” It’s his turn to be surprised and slightly offended. Okay, so maybe sometimes he’s a little short with the interviewers. It’s not their fault that their job requires them to ask the most asinine questions with a straight face. He usually does his best to avoid going viral, but sometimes he can’t suppress his snark. 

“Sorry. But also not.” 

Minghao leans back on his palms, watching you eat another cake while kicking your feet in the water. Who are you? Are you always this happy and relaxed? What’s that like?

“Do you usually steal champagne from your boss?” is what he ends up asking you. The question makes you snort again, waving your hand dismissively.

“It’s not stealing if it’s already paid for,” you counter, pouring refills for you both. “And it saved me time from going down to the wine cellar myself. But no, this is a one-time thing.”

“Are you celebrating?” 

“Not quite. More like… trying to come to a decision. A big one.” You twirl the stem of your glass, lost in thought. 

Minghao waits patiently for a few minutes before clearing his throat. “Do you wanna… talk about it?” 

Maybe he’s overstepping, asking if you want to have a personal conversation with a near-total stranger. But if you’re willing to talk, he’s willing to listen. Plus, it might be nice to get out of his own head for a little while. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Minghao blinks. “Okay.” He sets his glass down and you do the same, turning to face him. Your thigh bumps his knee and he apologizes, even though it’s your fault. 

“I’m thinking about quitting my job.” 

“What’s holding you back?” 

“Really?” You laugh. “Not - ‘oh no, what’s wrong at work?’”

He lifts his shoulder. He’s a little warmer now, with all this alcohol in his system, so he rolls his sleeves up. He notices as your eyes lock on his forearms. “If you’re considering quitting, then things must be bad. That’s enough of a reason to leave.” He pauses. “But if you do want to tell me….”

“Oh, I could tell you so many stories,” you laugh, raising your glass in a sad toast. “I’ve seen and dealt with so much bullshit! But it would take hours to tell them all and I don’t want to waste your night.” 

“I don’t know about that. I’m having a better time than I thought I would tonight.” He sees your shy smile before you turn away. He wants to see it again, so he doubles down. “I mean it. You’re much better company than anyone down there.” 

“Well, yeah, that is true.” 

He laughs, and you giggle, and he forgets himself for a moment, leaning towards you. You suck in a quick breath, loud enough for him to hear. He hums in response, low in his chest, and moves away before he does something reckless. Maybe he should slow down on the champagne. 

His pocket starts to vibrate and he slaps his hand over it to keep it still. He must be getting a call. He pulls out his phone and glances at the screen. Seungkwan.

“Do you need to take that?” 

He shakes his head, sending the call to voicemail. Then he fires off some quick texts - wine went to my head, found a quiet room to lie down for a minute - and doesn’t wait for a response before setting it down on the ground.

“It’s my manager, wondering where I am.” 

“Oh, right, I imagine they’re missing their star down there.” 

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I imagine they’re doing just fine without me.” Especially since Mingyu is probably keeping them all captivated with one of his dumb stories. He realizes something. “You said you hired the caterers for tonight - did you plan this party?” 

“More or less, yeah. I organized everything, at least.” 

“Were any other drivers invited tonight? Or just Kim Mingyu?”

You wince, and take a swig of your drink. “Just Kim Mingyu. Everyone’s favorite bobblehead.” 

Minghao’s lungs fill with champagne and he doubles over, coughing it back up.

“Are you okay? Want me to…” You raise your hand, ready to smack his back, but Minghao waves you off. 

“Almost… got it… all,” he wheezes between hacking. It’s probably safer if he doesn’t drink while you’re speaking, since he can’t predict what will come out of your mouth. Strangely, he’s enjoying your randomness, even if it’s making his throat burn right now. “You’re not - not a fan?” 

You snort into your glass. “Sometimes I think his head is full of helium. That’s the only way he can keep that big thing upright. I’m serious!” you add as Minghao’s coughing becomes laughter. “Look at him closely, the next time you see him. His head is too big for the rest of his body.”

Minghao breathes carefully, making sure his lungs are clear. “I’m not a fan, either.” 

“For any reason in particular?”

“He’s my competitor. I respect his skills, but at the end of the day, he’s my competition, not a friend.” 

You lean towards him. “There are no reporters here. You don’t have to be so diplomatic with me.” 

“He’s an asshole and I can’t stand him.” Mingyu’s not the type of person Minghao would voluntarily interact with. But when you work in a circus like F1, it’s hard to avoid the clowns. 

You roar with laughter. “Oh, I’m so glad I invited you to come up here with me.” Minghao’s glad, too, and he pops another bite of cake into his mouth as you top off your glasses again. “Thank god we’re not one of his sponsors. I avoid him as much as I can. He’s so…” You puff out a loud breath, shaking your head. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“His giant head is a good start,” Minghao offers, lips curling into a smirk over the rim of his glass. He feels validated. He’s not the only one who sees through Mingyu’s facade. 

“Since you shared your true feelings, I think it’s only fair that I share my truth with you, too,” you say. “But I’m trusting you to keep it to yourself.” 

Minghao sits up, interested, and mimes zipping his lips closed. 

You drop your voice to a whisper, as if the two of you aren’t alone on the roof. “Mingyu and I dated. A little.” 

Minghao’s glad he swallowed before you spoke or else you might be wearing his drink right now. “Really?!” 

He tries very hard to hide the surprise on his face and fears he’s losing the battle. Mingyu’s dating exploits are usually plastered all over the internet - the man cannot leave his house without getting pap’d by gossip sites, so of course any time he dates someone it’s heavily photographed and then highly discussed by the fans. That’s the reason Minghao goes to great lengths to keep his own love life under wraps when he’s dating. He doesn’t want to expose anyone to the same scrutiny he’s subjected to day in and day out. 

You shrug, playing with your glass. “It wasn’t any great love affair or anything. We went on a total of three whole dates. But yeah.” 

If you’d only gone a few dates, then it must’ve ended before the paparazzi ever got wind of it, which explains why he never saw you in any photos with Mingyu. He kind of wants to ask you why you dated him, but that would be incredibly forward of Minghao, and even if he’s a little buzzed right now, he’s still got manners.

He proceeds with caution. “I’m guessing those dates didn’t go well.” 

Your laughter has a sharp tinge to it now. “Oh, they were a disaster! First of all, we were set up, so I didn’t really know him beyond what I knew from working in the industry. For our first date, we went out to dinner, and he spent a full hour and twenty-five minutes talking about himself before he asked me a single question about myself. Eighty-five minutes exactly. I know. I counted.”

“I’m not doubting a second of that.” Minghao replies. “I’ve heard him talk about himself for even longer.” 

“I’m sure.” You place your empty glass on the ground with a sigh. “That should’ve been the end of it. But no, I agreed to a second date, and that one… well… we just didn’t click, you know? Like, okay, we’re both in the industry, but in very different ways, and we both wanted very different things.” 

A beat passes. When you don’t continue, Minghao prompts, “And the third date?” 

You merely shake your head, taking a big gulp of champagne. Minghao lets the silence sit, watching you as you lean back on your hands, idly kicking your legs in the water, and stare at the sky with a faraway look in your eyes. He wonders what the memory you’re lost in looks like. He gets the feeling it’s not a happy one, and that compels him to speak. 

“I know we barely know each other, but I feel confident in saying that you’re better off without him, whatever happened.” 

You snap back to yourself. “Yeah, totally. His loss and all that, right?” 

As much as he’d love to hear you rip on Mingyu for the rest of the night, he fears the conversation is leading you to a sad place, so Minghao steers things back on track. “So, how long have you been at your job?”

“Too long.” You lift your feet, so your toes are above the water, and watch the waves you make as you speak. “Longer than most assistants. I’ve seen so many come and go over the years, all moving up the corporate ladder to bigger and better things. And then there’s me, still standing on the bottom rung.” 

Minghao doesn’t know anything about corporate life beyond what he’s picked up on from observation. His job thankfully doesn’t require a lot of interaction with the executive structure of his team. But he understands the metaphor. And he feels a surprising amount of sympathy. He had to fight his way to the top. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being an executive assistant,” you continue. “It’s a fine enough job, pays the bills, whatever. But some of the stuff I’ve dealt with…” You shake your head. “I spent my whole life preparing to be something else. And if that’s not going to happen, then I don’t want to be stuck here.”

Minghao doesn’t press you for more details. He understands more than you could know. “There’s nothing worse than being stuck.” 

“You sound like you speak from experience.” 

“I do, but we’re talking about you, not me.” 

“We can talk about you. I’m not just a great assistant, I’m a good listener, too. You can tell me anything.”

For a second, Minghao questions whether to open up about himself. Seungkwan would probably caution him not to. What if you take something he says and run to the press with it, or post it on social media? He probably should keep his mouth shut. 

But there’s a connection growing between you, something he hasn’t felt in a long time, and a playful light in your eyes that he’s drawn to, so he decides, fuck it, why not tell the truth?

“When my contract’s up next year, I’m not sure I’m gonna resign. I’m not sure I want to race anymore.” 

A sense of relief rushes over him as he says the words out loud. They’ve been bouncing around his head since the start of the season. 

“Oh my god!” you shout, making Minghao jump. “Are you serious right now?!”  

“Yes?”

“Holy shit!” 

Minghao’s panic begins to rise, bringing regret with it. “Please stop yelling!” 

“I’m sorry! I thought you were going to tell me a story, not drop a worldwide exclusive on me! What?” you ask as Minghao groans, covering his face. “This is a big deal!”

“I know it is, but - you said I could tell you anything.” He can almost hear Seungkwan calling him a dumbass right now. Lovingly, but also a little bitchily, the way only Seungkwan can. 

“Sorry. I just need a second to absorb.” You close your eyes, placing a hand over your sternum as you inhale a deep breath. “Okay. I’ve absorbed. Please go on.” 

He props his elbows on his knees and shrugs, resting his chin on his interlaced hands. “It’s like you said - I feel stuck. I’m not sure what the path forward is for me right now.” 

“I see. I get that. But you used to know?” 

“Yeah. I always envisioned success for myself. Being a champion. And then I did it this year. Sorta.” 

“Sorta?!” Your voice gets loud again and Minghao jolts. “Sorry, sorry. But are you saying that winning the Constructors Cup only rates as being ‘sorta’ successful?!”

“No! I’m not discounting that, not at all. Of course I’m proud of winning the cup - I’m really proud of myself for Dubai, I am. But beyond that….” He draws a breath, surprised that it’s a little shuddery, and struggles to find the right words. “I thought this moment would mean everything to me. But instead, I’m just….” 

“Numb?” 

He lowers his head, running his fingers through his hair, and nods. “Yeah. I’m numb, and I don’t know what to do.” 

He can barely say the words, and can’t look at you as he speaks them. It nearly breaks him when you reach out, placing your hand gently on top of his as it rests on his thigh. Why does this quiet show of support from a stranger mean so much? 

“That sounds like a nightmare.” 

“It is.” He pauses. “But it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who feels lost right now.” 

“Oh, you are definitely not alone.” 

You haven’t moved your hand from his, so he turns his over, palm up, and watches as you slip your fingers between his. You squeeze reassuringly a few times, and Minghao feels a little ridiculous. But he can’t deny that he feels comforted by your words, and your touch. For the first time in weeks, his heart isn’t so heavy. 

“Want to know a secret?”

“Um, yes, please.” 

“You’re the first person I’ve told about this.” 

The weight of realization makes you sit up straighter. “I promise I’ll keep your secret,” you swear, your fingers lacing tighter with his. “You can trust me.” 

He wants to believe that he can, so he allows himself to. “You can trust me, too.” 

Buzz buzz

“Seriously?” With a frustrated sigh, he drops your hand and grabs his phone. Seungkwan’s bombarding him with message after message - Hello?? Did you fall asleep? Where are you? Call me!!

“Your manager again?” 

“Yeah. I’m just gonna - “ He turns his phone off. “At least your boss is leaving you alone right now.”

You wave your hand in the air. “Oh please, I doubt he’s even noticed I’m not down there. He’s too busy blowing hot air up everyone’s asses right now.” 

Minghao makes a face. “What a vivid phrase.” 

“It’s apt. I know everything about that man. I guarantee right now he’s got his lips glued to someone’s butt. Especially…” you sigh and shake your head, and tip your glass back to drink the last few drops. “He can’t let a second go by without thinking about money, and how to get more of it.”

“I know too many people like that.” 

“They’re the worst, right?” You poke at the remnants of one of the cakes, picking up the crumbs on your finger and popping them into your mouth. 

“If I could give you one piece of advice…” Minghao waits for an encouraging nod from you before he continues. “I think that if you think too long about whether or not to quit, you’ll never decide. You’ll keep arguing with yourself about what’s better but never make a decision. But not choosing is itself a choice.” 

You turn away from him, and he immediately curses himself for being too blunt. If he’s not being too blunt, he’s being too sharp. He’s like a weapon, designed to damage. Something about you makes him yearn for soft edges. 

He watches your face as you stare at the starry sky, wondering how long he should wait before he apologizes, when you start to nod.

“You’re right. Fuck. Fuck!” 

He doesn’t know what that means and his face must telegraph that because you laugh. 

“I’m really mad at how quickly you nailed me. Like, where the fuck did you come from?” You shake your head, seemingly mystified, but rather happy about it, if he’s reading your grin right. 

He shrugs, but can’t stop himself from smiling just as widely, and he laughs. You join him. He could ride this little wave all night, the tiny swell of joy he feels when he makes you laugh. 

“But honestly, I don’t want to talk about them anymore. My boss, your manager, Mingyu. None of that.” 

Minghao shares that sentiment. He doesn’t want to talk about any of that, either. Sitting here, looking into your eyes, he suddenly experiences a feeling he hasn’t known in ages - longing.

“Yeah, me neither.” 

“So what should we talk about instead?” 

“Whatever you want,” he says. He reaches for your hand, a bit clumsily, but he links your fingers through his. “Just don’t send me away. I don’t want to go home yet.” 

You’re silent for a moment, but he can tell you’re pleased from your little smile. 

“You don’t want to go home, you don’t want to go to the party - is there anything you do want?” 

It’s a loaded question and you both know it. He hasn’t held back from being honest with you so far tonight and he doesn’t see a reason to start now. 

He’s feeling reckless again. 

“I want to feel again,” he murmurs, and he raises your entwined hands to his mouth. You watch spellbound as his lips trace over your knuckles, slow and soft. 

When he tugs, you fall into him eagerly, barely catching yourself with a palm to his chest as he kisses you. He releases your hand so he can hold your cheek and control the pace of the kiss. His nose nudges against yours, guiding you to tilt your face as he desires, allowing him to deepen the kisses until your head spins.

“I can help with that,” you whisper, as if the way your body yields to his touch didn’t already inform him what you want. 

He replies with a hum, rumbling from deep in his throat. “Mmm, don’t worry, you already are.” He cups your cheek again as he leans back. “And maybe I can help you, too.” 

Your pupils are dilated and your breathing is a little heavy as you stare at him, and he can’t help but feel a little proud of the effect his kisses had on you. The urge to kiss you again is strong, but he remembers that he’s at a party, and the door to the roof pool is unlocked. If someone stumbles in on him making out with The CEO’s assistant, it could be disastrous for you both. 

“Back to your dilemma…” He holds up a hand as you sigh. “Just stay with me for a second. Try it right now. Make a decision.” 

“About… my job?” 

He nods, and you scoff. Your hand is still in his. He squeezes it gently. 

“No, listen to me, and give it a try. I want you to tell me what you want to do. Don’t think, just say the first thing that comes to mind. Okay?”

After a few seconds, you agree. “Okay.” 

He inhales a short breath. “All right. Now tell me - what do you want to do?” 

“I want to kiss you again.” 

He laughs. He’s shocked, but more than that, he’s pleased. “I meant more like, what do you want to do in your particular situation?”

“I’d rather kiss you than think about it.” 

You stick your chin out playfully, almost daring him to take you up on it, but he’s not fooled. He cups your face in his hands, and your cheeky smile turns shy. His thumb strokes your cheek for a moment as he gets lost in thought, trying to remember the last time he wanted so badly to kiss someone. He takes a deep breath before tilting your mouth to his. 

When your lips meet, something flares inside him. He allows you to press against him only for a second before he leans away.

“Maybe we should - “

DING!

The doors to The CEO’s elevator open and Chan comes barrelling out, looking disheveled.

“Yooo, look at that pool!” 

Minghao releases you as the other man raises his phone to take a picture, then stops, recognizing his teammate. 

“Hey, Minghao! Where’ve you been?” 

“Minghao?” Seokmin’s right behind Chan. “Hey, we found Minghao!” 

You curse under your breath. “Guess dinner’s over.” 

Mingho rises to his feet, offering his hand to help you up. Seokmin and Chan are taking selfies at the bar while the door to the elevator keeps opening, spilling out more party guests each time. Seungkwan is one of them, and as soon as he spots Minghao, he heads directly for him. Minghao braces himself for an argument. 

However, Seungkwan’s not here to yell at him. No, that’s not quite right - he’s here to yell, but not about what Minghao expects. “What the hell? Have you been up here all night? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you!” 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m….” Minghao glances at you, standing awkwardly a few feet away from him and his manager. “I just needed some fresh air.” 

“Uh-huh, fresh air, sure. It doesn’t matter.” Seungkwan grabs his arm, forcing Minghao’s ear down to his mouth. “I learned something tonight. Junhui’s out!” 

“Huh?” 

“He’s out. He’s leaving his contract!” 

Minghao’s stunned by the news. It’s not helping that his head is a little floaty right now, between the champagne and the kissing, and all the distracting noise that his teammates are currently making. The door opens again and this time it’s The CEO and Mingyu, and Minghao frowns. 

Seungkwan glances back and forth between Minghao and you a few times. “Listen, we can talk about it later, but I wanted you to know as soon as I found out.” 

“Thanks, Seungkwan,” he replies, and the short, polite response confirms Seungkwan’s suspicion that Minghao’s mind is elsewhere right now. He shakes his head and walks away, getting lost in his phone. 

You haven’t said a word since the party crashed your moment with Minghao. He steps closer to you. “I guess you probably need to get back to work.” 

“I guess.” You sigh. “Too bad. It felt for a second like tonight was going to be something different. Something good, for once.” You meet Minghao’s gaze. “You know?” 

He nods. He knows. He searches for The CEO, and finds him in tour guide mode, giving Seokmin and Chan a long-winded description about the architectural design of the pool. Minghao can tell that the two men are barely absorbing a word, too drunk to really pay attention, but The CEO either doesn’t realize or doesn’t care. That’s fine, Minghao’s happy to have more time with you before your boss finds you. 

“YN?” 

Both of you turn to see Mingyu bearing down on you with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Where’ve you been all night?” 

You cross your arms over your chest. “That’s none of your business.” 

Mingyu’s undaunted by your coldness. “You’ve been up here all night, with him? Really?” He doesn’t look at Minghao, just nods his head in his direction. 

“Mingyu. Always a pleasure to see you,” Minghao replies crisply.

But Mingyu continues to ignore him. “Why have you been wasting your time up here with Minghao? I saved you a seat at dinner.” 

“And then which of your girls did you call to fill it when I didn’t show up?” 

Minghao’s thankful he doesn’t have a mouthful of champagne right now - though it would be fun to spit some all over Mingyu. It sounds like there might have been more to your story about dating Mingyu than simply not clicking. 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Oh, grow up and let it go already.” 

Minghao has to stick his hands in his pockets to keep his fists from flying towards the other man’s face. He doesn’t know how much longer he can tolerate how disrespectful Mingyu is being to you right now. He can hear it in the other man’s tone - and see the hurt on your face. 

“Shut up, Mingyu,” you hiss, trying to keep your voice down. You look like you’re struggling to keep your anger in check, hands shaking at your sides like you’re resisting the urge to slap Mingyu. That’s too bad - he’d love to watch you smack the shit-eating grin off Mingyu’s face. “Take that big head of yours and shove it - “

“YN, darling, what is all this?” 

The CEO demonstrates exceptionally bad timing by joining the conversation at that exact moment. Minghao wants to hear the end of your sentence, though he’s pretty sure he guess where it was going.

But hold on. Did The CEO just call you “darling”?

“Sorry,” you mumble, stooping to pick up the tray and the empty glasses. Minghao grabs the empty champagne bottle and you flash a quick smile at him in appreciation. “I was just enjoying how much of a success the dinner party turned out to be. All that hard work…” 

The CEO nods. “Right. I see. Well, while you’ve been up here… celebrating…,” his gaze lands on Minghao for a second and Minghao’s hands flex in his pockets, “I’ve been busy making sure the team’s legacy is secure.” He drops an arm around Mingyu’s shoulders, and Minghao puts the pieces together.

“No. No, you’re not - tell me you’re not.” Minghao looks at Mingyu. 

“Oh yes,” Mingyu grins, and Minghao suddenly understands why people describe smiles as “sharp.” Mingyu’s a shark and Minghao’s been treading water all night. “Yes, I am!” 

“What is going on?” you demand. “I’m missing something.” 

“He’s joining the team,” Minghao tells her. He feels nauseous. Bad taste always upsets his stomach, and Mingyu is downright indigestible. “Junhui’s out.” 

“What?!” 

“That’s right, darling.” The CEO beams from ear to ear as he speaks. “Winning the cup this year was just the start. With Mingyu driving for the team, we’re moving into our next era. Now, we’re not just building a new team, we’re building a dynasty!”

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu whoops obnoxiously. 

Minghao marvels at how quickly bad things can turn even worse. He’s not just stuck, he’s trapped with Mingyu as his teammate.  

When neither you nor Minghao say anything in response to the announcement, The CEO’s smile fades. “I realize this is a monumental moment, but I was expecting a little more of a reaction than silence.” 

“Hooray,” Minghao says flatly. 

The CEO doesn’t know what to make of that. He turns to you.

“I thought you would be pleased, darling! We’ll be starting a new ad campaign and bringing Mingyu on board as a spokesperson, so that means you’ll be spending more time together!” 

“Oh god, that’s the last thing I want! You never listen to me, do you? I told you, I’m not dating him anymore! It was a mistake!” 

“Hey!” Mingyu exclaims. “What do you mean, ‘a mistake?’” 

“Now, now, I’m sure she’s kidding,” The CEO tries to laugh but it sounds a little forced. Clearly he thought you’d be on board with his news. “Aren’t you, darling?” 

“No, I’m not!” 

The other party guests hanging out around the pool all turn as you shout. Minghao can see the panic in The CEO’s eyes and the anger in Mingyu’s, but all he cares about is the pain in yours. 

“Dating you was a mistake!” you inform Mingyu again. “And I told you that I never wanted to see him again, but you keep shoving him down my throat!” 

You point accusingly at The CEO, while Minghao struggles to make sense of things. Your boss calls you by a pet name and seems overly invested in your dating life. No wonder you want to get away from him. The man is an HR horror story. 

“If I was such a mistake, then why’d you keep calling me?” Mingyu shoots back at you. 

Minghao needs to walk away from this conversation before he does something he’ll regret. Mingyu is his teammate now. He can’t haul off and punch him, even if that’s the only way he’d like to celebrate the news. 

The CEO glances around. “Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else - “ 

“No!” you cut your boss off, shaking your head. “I’m done talking to you tonight.” 

“Sweetheart, please - “ 

That does it. Minghao can’t take it anymore. He steps between you and your boss. “She said she’s done.” 

Everyone gathered around the pool falls silent, save for a whispered “oh shit” from Seungkwan. Minghao can feel all eyes on him as he stares down The CEO, who reacts like he’s been slapped in the face. 

But before the man can open his mouth, you grab Minghao’s hand. 

“He’s right, I’m done. Don’t follow me.” Your tone is icy as you tug on Minghao’s hand, pulling him along when you start walking towards the exit. “Come on.” 

You don’t look back and neither does Minghao, following you without hesitation. He knows there’s so much that he’s missing, but it’s clear that you want to escape. So he keeps his fingers locked in yours and lets you lead him into the elevator. It’s not until the doors shut that he asks. 

“Now where are we going?” 

There’s a wild look in your eye as you answer. “You wanna go for a ride?”

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He smirks at his word thrown back at him. "I mean, if he kissed you, it's not a problem to him."

"He might have been too exhausted to think through it fully."

You get another unimpressed expression from Jeonghan. He hands you a dustcloth.

"What?"

"If you're going to bother me with this, at least work while we talk."

You don't mind dusting bookshelves and books, it's soothing. Jeonghan's complete disinterest or concern about the uneven dynamic between you and Mingyu is less soothing.

"You know what?" you say, after an hour of talking yourself in circles. "It was only a kiss. He probably thinks nothing of it. It'll never happen again, and it's just a blip. A fluke."

You throw the dustcloth at Jeonghan's head when he snorts.

When Wednesday comes back round, you are more nervous than you were after your explosion on Mingyu outside the arcade. This is more guilt heaped on top of desire, cut with shame.

You are his boss. You are his employer and despite that, you desperately want him to kiss you again.

First kisses are nearly always awkward. Two mouths that don't know each other, that have different rhythms and styles. It should not go perfectly on first attempt.

Of course Mingyu would be the exception.

You've planted yourself in the liquor store room, hoping the tedious process of checking inventory will push your nerves out of mind. The bottles upon bottles of so many colors and shades is visually distracting.

But then, as you mark that you'll need two boxes of Titos this next shipment, you hear the back door open and close, the jostling of two buoyant male voices. You freeze, but try and focus on the shelf of cordials.

"Helloooo," Jungkook pops his head in through the open doorway. "Are we low on anything?"

"No, we're good." Business, business. Mingyu sticks his head in, standing next to Jungkook and you gulp, heart jumping to 120 beats a minute. "Um, maybe run a special on a bourbon cocktail? I want to get rid of that Wild Turkey bourbon, so we can pull in some better brands."

"Bourbon. Perfect." Jungkook ducks under Mingyu's arm to head toward the front of house and the bar.

You can feel his gaze as you go back to counting the bottles of Baileys.

"Madam boss…you good?"

"Of course, I'm good." You force a casual smile to your lips, looking up to reassure him. "Are—" you voice cracks and you clear your throat. "Are you well?"

A smile plays on his lips. "Yeah."

"Good." You swallow and look away though it kills you. His hair is messy today, he must have washed and slept on it; fluffy and soft.

"Good." The warmth in his voice makes your skin heat, but by the time you allow yourself to look back up, he's gone.

Right. That's good. Business as usual.

When you come out, about two hours after opening, you realize you forgot (how could you) that tonight is another theme night.

All of your copper mule mugs are littered along the bar. There's a plushie horse's head on a pole, a child's riding toy. A few of your patrons are wearing large, ostentatious hats. Like the ones from…

You pick up one of the empty used mugs and sniff.

Mint Juleps. The theme is the Kentucky Derby.

"Want one?" Mingyu pops up at the end of the bar where you are stationed. His nearness makes your heart speed up all over again.

"Absolutely not. Those are disgusting."

He grins at your wrinkled nose. "Agreed, but they're going over very well." He pulls a large pink hat with netting from a stack under the bar. "Want this instead?"

"No thank you. I don't really have the outfit to balance it out."

He laughs and crossing his arms to rest on the wood next to you. Forearms all on display for your eyes. "That hasn't stopped them." He nods down the bar to where Seokmin and Soonyoung wear a blue and red versions of the very hat in front of you. The rest of their clothing is their usual wear; jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and windbreakers.

"Where did all these hats come from?"

"The high school's costume closet." He watches you for a moment. "You come out just to check on us?"

You look away from the big hats to him.

Oh no.

You recognize that look.

It's from Saturday night.

When he kissed you.

"Of course. I always do. Why else would I leave the delights of my Quickbooks software?"

He inclines a bit more toward you. You hold your breath.

"That's it?"

You nod, too emphatically to be believable. "That's it." You tear your gaze from him, back to the rest of the pub. "You look like you both are fine. Do either of you need a break?"

"We've got it taken care of, madam boss." He has straightened up and put more space between the two of you. "Don't forget to eat something."

"Promise." You did forget to have dinner a lot of the time. Hurrying away is absolutely cowardly of you, and you'll scold yourself later for it. But he's too close, smells too good (even around the alcohol and customers), looks too wonderful.

It's safer in the back.

"Hey."

You jump up at his voice, banging your knee on your desk. "Ow. Mingyu…is everything okay?" You glance at the time on your computer. It's not closing time yet. You haven't missed that, but you've been staring blankly at the screen for the last hour.

"Everything's fine," he says, walking into the office. "Sorry to worry you. It's my break. I was checking on you."

"You don't have to do that." You rub your knee and wince.

"I don't have to, but I like to." He plops in his usual spot, on the arm of the chair, before looking around. "You finish the receipts I was doing?"

"Yes. Thank you for what you did. It was a big help." You keep standing, hands stacking papers as though looking busy will make it easier to reference last Saturday night. You point to your half-empty plate. "I ate."

"Good."

"Do you want something? I can go ask the kitchen to—" You turn to head that way.

"Madam boss, are you avoiding me?"

You freeze. "I'm not."

"Turn around and say that again. With feeling." If it wasn't for the humor in his voice, you'd bristle at the words. You do turn around.

"I'm not avoiding you."

He stands, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You sure? Feels like it."

"Maybe it's just your ego."

He shrugs. "Maybe a little." He takes a few steps toward you. The open office door is at your back and you really don't want to walk out into the hallway where anyone can see you two. "You know, I didn't text you since Saturday, cause I figured you were freaking out and I wanted to let you do that. Let you get all that out of your system."

"What?"

He stops a foot away, bending down (stupid height) so your faces are as close as they were Saturday night.

"Should I have messaged you? Told you I was thinking about you?" He lets his nose touch yours. "Told you that any weird excuse you come up with for why I kissed you is completely wrong?"

Your lips part. "You were exhausted and therefore like being drunk, you didn't know what you were doing?"

He rolls his eyes, but doesn't move back. "You and I have been around enough drunk people to know, they know exactly what they're doing…it's just hazy. And yeah," He puts a finger on your lips when you try to speak. "I was tired, but I knew exactly what I was doing. Any other explanations?"

"You thought I was someone else?"

His eyes go dark when you say that, his finger still on your lips. "Never." He drops his finger and closes the distance, the touch of his lips on yours slight. It's a tease beyond tease.

"Mingyu." Your voice is needy and you hate yourself for it, but he's inches away, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, humor and want lighting them. "I don't understand."

"Hmmmmm," he draws it out, again letting his mouth graze yours. You lurch forward, kissing him without a thought in your head minus HIM, all capitals, in blinking neon lights. He's laughing against your lips, but it's not mean. Not with his arms curling around you, chests meeting.

How does he radiate so much heat all the time?

He pulls you away from the doorway, in the office far enough that he can close the door, pressing you back against it.

"I. Want. You."

You blink at him, as though he speaks a different language. "You do?"

"Oh you are so smart and so not sometimes," he says easily and warmly that it takes you a moment to catch the insult.

"Hey, that's not—"

He kisses you, rendering you speechless and dissipating your umbrage (he's not wrong though). You're grateful for the door because the moment his tongue finds yours, your knees buckle. Your hands seek his hair, carding through, relishing the soft and silky feel. His hand cups your face and the other slides to your hip, and dart underneath the hem of your shirt. You shudder at his fingertips on your skin.

"Sensitive," he whispers. "Are you sensitive other places?"

You blink open your eyes. "Huh?"

The same hand drifts up, finding the bottom edge of your bra. "Here? You sensitive here?" There's still a smirk playing on those devastating lips and if you weren't so far gone on this man, you'd be annoyed with his arrogance.

He doesn't expect an answer, not that you have one because your body thrums like a plucked harp string. Fingers slip under your bra to the delicate skin reverently. His hand is warm, a little rough, but pleasant…decadent as he gently squeezes.

"I…"

He kisses you again, speaking in between. "I like you like this. All dazed and confused."

"You like me stupid?"

He laughs, smile blinding. "I like seeing other sides of you," he says, as his thumb rubs over your nipple. You arch against the door. "Easy, madam boss."

The teasing appellation sends a shock of ice through you. What are you doing?

"GYU!"

You both hear Jungkook through the door all the way from the bar.

"Need a hand out here!"

You pull his hand out and move around him as quickly as possible. "You ought to see if he's okay."

Mingyu says your name, but you don't turn around.

"Please go back on the floor."

There's a sigh. "Fine. But we're discussing this later." The door to your office opens and closes. You turn around to make sure he's gone. The lack of his presence is both relieving, but also painful.

This can't be dismissed as a fluke.

Despite that you'd rather go home then have to face him, or anyone in the bar tonight, you still come out at your usual twenty minutes until closing. There are a few stragglers, and Jungkook is cashing them out.

Mingyu is collecting glasses and pauses when he sees you. "Hey."

"Hi. I'll start on the floors."

"Oh but—"

"I'll get the floors." You hate sweeping and mopping, but you figure you deserve the punishment right now. You go to collect the broom and dustpan, starting in the far corner where people are not located. You're so focused on it that it takes you a moment, or several to realize that there's raised voices.

You look over to see that your bartenders are dealing with a pair of belligerent drunks, most likely kids from the university a town over. When one swings at Mingyu (never mind that Mingyu easily avoids the fist), that's when you pull out your cell to call the sheriff.

"It's okay," Jungkook tells you. "We got them. We can take them over there." The station isn't far; nothing is that far in Carats Ridge. Then he and Mingyu look around as the two drunks in their charge start to protest. You watch as Mingyu pulls one's arms behind him, holding his wrists together like a makeshift binding.

You are delusional, truly, because you think it's hot.

"I can finish the closing up, guys. Just go home after you drop them off."

"No, we can't—" Mingyu starts, but you cut him off.

"You're both doing me a favor, taking the trash out like this. I'll finish up. Good work." You move to open the front doors for them. Jungkook has his customer in a headlock and is laughing. Mingyu stops at the threshold.

"I don't—"

"It's all good, Mingyu. I'll clock you both out. Get home a little earlier tonight." You smile up at him. "I appreciate it."

He looks like he wants to say more, but the guy he's escorting starts trying to escape again, so he holds his arms more firmly, and continues to the sidewalk in front of the pub. He watches you as you shut the door and you know that what happened earlier won't be shoved under the rug. You both will have to address it eventually.

But not tonight.

You finish the floor, wipe down the tables and put up the chairs. You look over the bar area, but they apparently got that taken care of first. You check the front door again to make sure it's locked before heading to your office. When you grab your bag, your face heats with the memory of his hands and mouth, but you push it away as you turn off the lights.

It's later than you usually leave, but closing by oneself takes twice as long.

Liquor store room locked. Lights and all stoves off in the kitchen.

You let out a sigh, already missing the work because when you're working, you don't have to think much. Or you can only think about the work you are doing. Not…not anything else.

You wonder if you can metaphorically flog yourself when you get home.

You open the back door, curse the pouring rain, and set the door to lock automatically.

"Hey."

The sound you make is on par with some sort of small yappy dog.

"For fuck's sake, Mingyu. Are you insane? I have pepper spray in my bag."

He grins sheepishly, standing under one of the eaves of the pub. "Probably no good there because you didn't even try to grab it." His hair is damp, hanging in his eyes.

You close the back door and check it to make sure it's locked. "Well, now that I know someone might be waiting right outside the back door, I'll make sure to walk out with it in hand."

He leans against the building, arms crossed, but shoulders relaxed.

"Um." It now settles into your mind that it's Mingyu here. In front of you. Only hours after— "Did everything go okay at the station? Do I need to make a statement?"

"Everything's fine. And no. No statement." He waves a hand like handling antagonistic sots is no big deal. "They got real docile when they put handcuffs on them." He straightens up. "I thought I might miss you."

You close your eyes and take a deep deep breath. Opening your eyes, you begin: "So, what happened today was—"

"Not enough."

You had a speech. Or at least some fragments of a speech.

"You can't say that."

His slow-growing grin absolutely decimates you, and your self-control.

"I can't? I can't tell you that seeing your eyes all glassy from want, wanting me, didn't just whet my appetite for you?" He reaches out and pulls you close, hands on your upper arms, gentle but firm. "How knowing that you're probably still thinking about me, a room away while I'm at the bar made me want to let Kook handle the crowd and lock you and me in that office until we're both spent. Until we both are satisfied."

Can you combust from only his words? From the sheer amount of desire his words and his presence incite? Spontaneously turn to flame despite the deluge falling from the sky.

"You really can't say that."

"Give me tonight and I'll do more than say it." He doesn't give you time to consider, but presses his lips to yours. You sigh, body relaxing at his taste. He smells like amber and your pub. His hands slide from your arms to your neck, so he can angle you for kisses deeper. You've dropped your bag, fingers drifting under his t-shirt to the warm skin there. He shivers at your cold touch.

"Come home with me," he murmurs, breaking the kiss for those four words.

"But—"

"He's not there. Come home with me." He traces his thumb along the column of your neck before taking you by the hand and leading you into the rain. You grab your bag and stumble after him. He unlocks an easily twenty-year-old VW beetle, and ushers you in before jogging to the other side. You are soaked from the storm outside and immediately tremble even though it's not cold.

"This is yours?"

He closes the driver's door and turns the key before messing with the dash so heat starts pouring out of the vents. You sigh as it takes a little of the chill away.

"The car?"

You nod as he reaches into the back seat and hands you a towel. "It's clean…and yeah, the car is mine."

You start to chuckle.

"What?"

"Mingyu. You are the tallest man I know. Why did you get a tiny car?"

He tries to look annoyed, but his eyes sparkle (or that's the rain still on his eyelashes). "I like this car."

Your laugh is almost drowned out by the thunder outside. He leans over to kiss you, cradling your cheek in his big hand. You return it, moaning when his tongue dances with yours. When he draws back, you place the towel on his head and dry his hair.

"I can't have a sick bartender." You rub with the towel, getting rid of the excess water at least. He watches you. "Most people look like drowned rats, but you're even prettier, how is that possible?"

"Shut up," he mutters, cheeks turning pink. You laugh again, before jumping when lighting flashes outside the windows. "Are you scared of storms?"

"Not really. Are you?"

He shakes his head, still gazing at you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone delicately.

"I thought you were in a hurry." His attention is discombobulating. He kisses you again, slower and leisurely. You let the towel fall into your lap as you run your hands through his hair. He pulls you closer, damn the hand brake between you. He lowers it before sliding one hand to your ass and lifting you so your in his lap, facing him. The steering wheel presses into your lower back. "We aren't—"

He shushes you before drawing up your top and pulling it off. You instantly cover yourself with a protest and then shiver. He pulls your arms out of the way, eyes taking in his fill.

"Thought about you for so long," he says, voice barely heard above the storm. "Wanted to see you like this." He starts to undo your jeans, mouth giving you no chance to respond verbally to his words. You whine when his hand slips into your underwear.

"Oh my god," you gasp when his finger enters you. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks and nose as he skims your slit with said finger. "Gyu…."

"Already wet for me."

"Has nothing to do with the rain." You're not sure how you can joke while he's touching you like this. But he knows how much you want him, it feels like someone should humble him from time to time.

He pinches your clit and you jolt. "I know the goddamn difference," he says before nipping your neck. "I thought you'd be good for me."

His voice is velvet and you pull his face back to yours so you can kiss him again. "I'll be good," you whisper on his lips. Again and again you kiss, taste, delve as he curls one finger, and then a second in your cunt, his thumb teasing your clit.

"Hey baby," he says when you start to squeeze his fingers. "Pull the lever so we can push the seat back?"

You blink at him, brain dazed. His grin widens.

"What are you smiling about?"

"You," he answers, pulling his fingers out, making you curse. He pulls the lever and pushes the back of the seat. "I like it when you're spacey, because of me." He tugs you down so your lying on him.

"You like me dumb?"

"Just cause you're always on top of things," he assures you. You huff, and sit up, working on his jeans' button and zipper.

"There's some joke in there about me being on top right now."

"If you weren't spacey, I bet you'd come up with—" he groans when you wrap your hand around his cock. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You use what he's already leaked to lubricate your hand and his cock. You stroke carefully, then tighten your grip. His hand on your hip digs in deep.

"Condom?" you ask, leaning down to kiss the tip. He groans.

"Don't you have a million in the office for the bathrooms?"

"You want me to go in there, right now and get some?" You lean over him, eyebrows up in question.

"No, I can't wait, I'll pull out, I promise. I'm clean," he stutters when you rub your thumb over his slit. You kiss him before lining him up with your entrance, and easing down.

You've never heard Mingyu curse that much.

He sits up to capture your mouth with his, hands caressing all your bared skin.

You tug on the hem of his shirt, and he only breaks away for you to pull it off and toss it in the back. His hands return to your ass and your clit as he gently grinds before starting to thrust. You can barely breathe, tracing every line of his chest and arms, kissing and sucking where you can.

He feels so good inside you, the drag of him rubbing every sensitive part of you.

The thunder drowns out the noises you both are making, but you feel his hot breath against your neck when his rhythm picks up.

"Close, baby?" His thumb presses hard and you clench so tight that your orgasm screams through you. It's heady, the euphoria of the release. You're only coming down from the high when he starts to pull out of you.

"No," you say against his ear, nibble on the soft skin. "Come inside."

"Fuck, you sure?"

"Yes." You lick the side of his neck and he trembles when he comes. His mouth open on your shoulder, with his arms wrapped tight around you, his breathing harsh, but slowing.

You take it all in, searing it into your memory.

When he raises his head to look at you, you brush his hair out of his eyes, press the back of your hands against his flushed cheeks. He kisses your fingers.

"Come home with me. I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

Go home with him. Stay in his bed, wake up with him. Have breakfast with him.

Where Jungkook also lives.

Who is your employee.

And so is Mingyu.

The metaphoric cold water dumped on you is like a shock to the system.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You pull away, scrambling to the passenger side, before tugging your underwear back in place and re-buttoning your jeans.

"I should go home."

He says your name in a tone of disappointment and frustration. His hand encircles your arm as you open your door.

"I can't leave my car here." It's a terrible excuse, there isn't high crime in Carats Ridge. "And I—" You jerk away from his touch. "I can't." And you rush back out into the rain, getting in your own car and driving toward your home.

You don't look back.

When you arrive several minutes later, you glance in the rear-view mirror, not sure if you're relieved or saddened that he didn't follow you.

Your phone pings with a message, but you don't check it until you're safe in your house, showered and dried off, now in your pajamas.

»mingyu: we're talking about this tomorrow

You don't answer, already regretting your choices and your actions.

You mean to get up early. To go and do errands. To be a productive member of society.

But your body has other ideas.

For fuck's sake, you're sore.

You grumble at yourself because yes, sex made you sore, but also sex in tight quarters like a VW BEETLE made you sore.

You drag on some loose yoga pants and stumble out of your bedroom.

Then there's a knock at your door.

You debate on answering.

"I know you're in there, I see your car." He huffs. "Can we just talk?"

You open the door and Mingyu is holding a white paper bag, and a drink tray with two cups.

"You ever think I'm not worth it?"

You both still at your unthought-out question.

"What?"

"Come in." You step back to let him in, looking down the sidewalk. "Where's your car?"

"Kook dropped me after we grabbed food." He sets his burdens on your kitchen counter and points to you before you say something. "He knows. He's known forever." He stands in the middle of your kitchen, making it feel small (it's not huge, but Mingyu dominates a space).

"Forever? We only had sex last night." Does your face heat when you say it aloud? Yes, but that's only for you and he to know.

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. "He's known how I feel about you since…well, since…" He hands you one of the two paper cups. "It's weird that I don't know how you like your coffee. Our interactions are never before afternoon."

"So what did you choose?" You take a sniff of the drink. "Smells like cinnamon."

"Cinnamon bun latte." He shrugs. "Or I have an Americano."

"Gross, cinnamon bun latte please."

He half-grins before taking the lit off his cup and blowing in it. You shuffle in to open the paper bag and inhale deeply.

"A couple plain croissants, and chocolate ones."

"You didn't have to bring me breakfast."

He sets his cup on the counter, standing on the other side from you so he can face you. "I would have made you breakfast."

You are going to have to have this conversation.

"Mingyu…" You offer him one of the chocolate croissants. "Do you want sugar or cream with your Americano?"

"I'm good." He takes a bite of the pain au chocolate and waits. For you to say something.

"I'm sorry."

"For?" he asks once he's swallowed.

"Everything. I shouldn't sleep with my employee, but I shouldn't run out on you either. I shouldn't want you, make out with you at work; but I most definitely should not give you mixed signals." You shove your hair out of your face, decidedly glad that he's getting to see you like this: big shirt, loose pants, unwashed face (at least you brushed your teeth) and bedhead.

If he ever found you attractive, he wouldn't now.

You sip your latte and smile. "That's really good."

"Apology accepted," he says. He watches you with those beautiful brown eyes. "Why does it matter if I work for you?"

"Oh come on. I'm your boss. I can fire you."

"Or promote me."

"Exactly, the power imbalance is huge and unfair to you. I could fire you for something like just…" You struggle to find an example.

"But you wouldn't."

"I'm talking theoretically here."

"But you wouldn't." He reaches across the counter to grasp you by the chin. "I know you. You wouldn't ever do that. You worry too much to make that kind of decision."

You stare at him. "Really?"

He sighs. "I could also abuse the dynamic. Use my relationship with you for any sort of promotion, benefits like, I dunno, longer breaks, pay raise, not work."

"You wouldn't. You enjoy yourself, but you work so hard."

"I'm talking theoretically here." He grins at you and you realize what he's doing. You know him. Not everything of course, but you know his character, his work ethic, how he's sees the world.

You are so far gone on this man.

"Okay, I get it, but—"

"You need an assistant manager right? Or supervisor? As the pub gets busier and the paperwork piles up."

"Yes. I've been thinking about that." You can't have him stay after work to do paperwork again, that's too dangerous.

"So who would you promote?" He doesn't let you look away, still holding your chin.

You swallow, nervous. "Honestly, you or Jungkook would do well at it. You've got a more laid-back temperament, but you can handle yourself in chaos. Jungkook is far more hyper, but he adjusts easily and has a strong sense of what's fair, so I don't worry about him keeping the peace." You shrug. "I think it be easier if you two talked it out and decided together who was a better fit. I'm too concerned that if I promoted you, it would show favoritism, or if I promoted Jungkook, I'd be doing it because I didn't want to show favoritism, which is kind of the same thing."

His smile inches across his lips. "See. You're a great boss. You don't like theme nights, but you were willing to give them a shot because Kook and I wanted to try."

"It's doing too well, I'm annoyed."

He chuckles and lets go of your chin, and returning to his coffee and pastry. "Is that it?"

"I think that's a big concern."

He pulls out the other pain au chocolate and puts it to your mouth. You take a bite and close your eyes. Why are pastries so delicious?

"I like you. I have since I met you."

As a 'love confession' (you have watched way too much anime in your lifetime), it's probably not the most dramatic or intense, but it still squeezes your heart. The softness of his expression, the domesticity of standing in your kitchen, just getting to look at him.

He likes you.

"At the interview?"

He nods, laughing before brushing crumbs off your lips. "You were so cute. Asking all kinds of questions before firing off ten cocktails, several really obscure, and asking me for the ingredients."

"You told me which ones you didn't know, but said that's what recipe books and your phone was for." You look down, smiling at the memory. "I appreciated that you admitted when you didn't know something. A lot of people would have faked it."

You don't realize that he comes around the counter to stand next to you, until his side presses yours.

"I like you too."

"I had an inkling you might."

"Shut up."

He laughs again before leaning down to kiss you softly. "The employer-employee thing is awkward, I get it. But I'm okay with working through that with you. Are you?"

You stare up at him, deciding that you will regret everything if you don't try. Not with this kind, beautiful, so honest and up front man, who puts up with your wavering.

"Yes."

His smile is warm and fond. He cradles your face in one hand, thumb at your lips. "You're worth it, by the way."

You can believe it, staring into those eyes.

Friday night you spend more time on the floor than you usually do. It's busy at the pub. Some sports match that Jungkook and Mingyu know about (you don't, you do not care enough to keep up) is on the televisions and so many of your regulars are in your pub.

You are mixing a French 75 for Joshua, moving around Mingyu who shoots you an indulgent grin. He bumps hips with you as he shakes up an espresso martini for Jihoon.

"You take up so much space," you tell him, mock-complaining.

"So I'm big?"

You don't answer that. It is not appropriate work conversation, but the glint in his eye is enough.

It's not like you weren't babbling with affection and praise this morning at yours. He really likes having sex in the morning.

He really likes you.

You hand Joshua his drink before finding the next patron. You halt when you see Jeonghan at your bar, royally arrogant smirk in place as he eyes you, then Mingyu, then you again with a perfect eyebrow raise.

"What'll be?" you ask, not commenting on the nonverbal conversation he's having with you.

"Glass of port."

You fulfill his request as Jungkook reaches over you for a wineglass. He winks at you.

The first thing you'd done after the eventful Thursday morning was talk to Jungkook. You explained that you and his best friend were seeing each other, but it would not in any way affect the workplace and climate.

"I hope it does." He leaning against the shelf of tequila in the liquor store room.

"Excuse me?"

"I hope it affects the workplace. I hope you guys are stupid happy." His grin is bright and gleeful, before dropping into a serious expression. "But you know, if you break his heart, I won't forgive you."

"Fair and valid."

"If he breaks yours, I'll punch him," he tells you with the same amount of glee as he leaves to finish up prep work.

"I…I, uh, appreciate that?"

He waves and is gone before you can say anything else.

"So things are good?" Jeonghan says when you hand him his port.

"How can you tell?"

"You both keep stealing glances at each other, and honestly? It's gross." But he's smiling. "So not a fluke?"

"Not a fluke."

"So you won't be coming in to The Bookery to have a meltdown anymore?"

"Don't sound so disappointed," you fire back and then leave him to his drink. The crowd is settled now, your bartenders have everything under control. You tell Jungkook (who is closest) that you're going to the back to do some paperwork and he waves you away.

You push through the 'employee only' doors and head down the hallway to your office. Your hand is snagged and you're spun around into an embrace.

"Just one kiss," Mingyu says, mouth following his words. It's quick, almost chaste. He releases you before you can fully soak it in.

"We shouldn't—"

"Probably not," he answers, with a wicked grin. "But this is more fun." And he disappears back through the doors to bar and the people.

You're smiling, heart light and fluttery.

Way more fun.

a/n2: i originally outlined this for a lot more shenanigans, and even MORE avoidance on the mc's part. but turns out romcoms want miscommunication and this particular mingyu just won't allow that. :D

He smirks at his word thrown back at him. "I mean, if he kissed you, it's not a problem to him."

"He might have been too exhausted to think through it fully."

You get another unimpressed expression from Jeonghan. He hands you a dustcloth.

"What?"

"If you're going to bother me with this, at least work while we talk."

You don't mind dusting bookshelves and books, it's soothing. Jeonghan's complete disinterest or concern about the uneven dynamic between you and Mingyu is less soothing.

"You know what?" you say, after an hour of talking yourself in circles. "It was only a kiss. He probably thinks nothing of it. It'll never happen again, and it's just a blip. A fluke."

You throw the dustcloth at Jeonghan's head when he snorts.

When Wednesday comes back round, you are more nervous than you were after your explosion on Mingyu outside the arcade. This is more guilt heaped on top of desire, cut with shame.

You are his boss. You are his employer and despite that, you desperately want him to kiss you again.

First kisses are nearly always awkward. Two mouths that don't know each other, that have different rhythms and styles. It should not go perfectly on first attempt.

Of course Mingyu would be the exception.

You've planted yourself in the liquor store room, hoping the tedious process of checking inventory will push your nerves out of mind. The bottles upon bottles of so many colors and shades is visually distracting.

But then, as you mark that you'll need two boxes of Titos this next shipment, you hear the back door open and close, the jostling of two buoyant male voices. You freeze, but try and focus on the shelf of cordials.

"Helloooo," Jungkook pops his head in through the open doorway. "Are we low on anything?"

"No, we're good." Business, business. Mingyu sticks his head in, standing next to Jungkook and you gulp, heart jumping to 120 beats a minute. "Um, maybe run a special on a bourbon cocktail? I want to get rid of that Wild Turkey bourbon, so we can pull in some better brands."

"Bourbon. Perfect." Jungkook ducks under Mingyu's arm to head toward the front of house and the bar.

You can feel his gaze as you go back to counting the bottles of Baileys.

"Madam boss…you good?"

"Of course, I'm good." You force a casual smile to your lips, looking up to reassure him. "Are—" you voice cracks and you clear your throat. "Are you well?"

A smile plays on his lips. "Yeah."

"Good." You swallow and look away though it kills you. His hair is messy today, he must have washed and slept on it; fluffy and soft.

"Good." The warmth in his voice makes your skin heat, but by the time you allow yourself to look back up, he's gone.

Right. That's good. Business as usual.

When you come out, about two hours after opening, you realize you forgot (how could you) that tonight is another theme night.

All of your copper mule mugs are littered along the bar. There's a plushie horse's head on a pole, a child's riding toy. A few of your patrons are wearing large, ostentatious hats. Like the ones from…

You pick up one of the empty used mugs and sniff.

Mint Juleps. The theme is the Kentucky Derby.

"Want one?" Mingyu pops up at the end of the bar where you are stationed. His nearness makes your heart speed up all over again.

"Absolutely not. Those are disgusting."

He grins at your wrinkled nose. "Agreed, but they're going over very well." He pulls a large pink hat with netting from a stack under the bar. "Want this instead?"

"No thank you. I don't really have the outfit to balance it out."

He laughs and crossing his arms to rest on the wood next to you. Forearms all on display for your eyes. "That hasn't stopped them." He nods down the bar to where Seokmin and Soonyoung wear a blue and red versions of the very hat in front of you. The rest of their clothing is their usual wear; jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and windbreakers.

"Where did all these hats come from?"

"The high school's costume closet." He watches you for a moment. "You come out just to check on us?"

You look away from the big hats to him.

Oh no.

You recognize that look.

It's from Saturday night.

When he kissed you.

"Of course. I always do. Why else would I leave the delights of my Quickbooks software?"

He inclines a bit more toward you. You hold your breath.

"That's it?"

You nod, too emphatically to be believable. "That's it." You tear your gaze from him, back to the rest of the pub. "You look like you both are fine. Do either of you need a break?"

"We've got it taken care of, madam boss." He has straightened up and put more space between the two of you. "Don't forget to eat something."

"Promise." You did forget to have dinner a lot of the time. Hurrying away is absolutely cowardly of you, and you'll scold yourself later for it. But he's too close, smells too good (even around the alcohol and customers), looks too wonderful.

It's safer in the back.

"Hey."

You jump up at his voice, banging your knee on your desk. "Ow. Mingyu…is everything okay?" You glance at the time on your computer. It's not closing time yet. You haven't missed that, but you've been staring blankly at the screen for the last hour.

"Everything's fine," he says, walking into the office. "Sorry to worry you. It's my break. I was checking on you."

"You don't have to do that." You rub your knee and wince.

"I don't have to, but I like to." He plops in his usual spot, on the arm of the chair, before looking around. "You finish the receipts I was doing?"

"Yes. Thank you for what you did. It was a big help." You keep standing, hands stacking papers as though looking busy will make it easier to reference last Saturday night. You point to your half-empty plate. "I ate."

"Good."

"Do you want something? I can go ask the kitchen to—" You turn to head that way.

"Madam boss, are you avoiding me?"

You freeze. "I'm not."

"Turn around and say that again. With feeling." If it wasn't for the humor in his voice, you'd bristle at the words. You do turn around.

"I'm not avoiding you."

He stands, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You sure? Feels like it."

"Maybe it's just your ego."

He shrugs. "Maybe a little." He takes a few steps toward you. The open office door is at your back and you really don't want to walk out into the hallway where anyone can see you two. "You know, I didn't text you since Saturday, cause I figured you were freaking out and I wanted to let you do that. Let you get all that out of your system."

"What?"

He stops a foot away, bending down (stupid height) so your faces are as close as they were Saturday night.

"Should I have messaged you? Told you I was thinking about you?" He lets his nose touch yours. "Told you that any weird excuse you come up with for why I kissed you is completely wrong?"

Your lips part. "You were exhausted and therefore like being drunk, you didn't know what you were doing?"

He rolls his eyes, but doesn't move back. "You and I have been around enough drunk people to know, they know exactly what they're doing…it's just hazy. And yeah," He puts a finger on your lips when you try to speak. "I was tired, but I knew exactly what I was doing. Any other explanations?"

"You thought I was someone else?"

His eyes go dark when you say that, his finger still on your lips. "Never." He drops his finger and closes the distance, the touch of his lips on yours slight. It's a tease beyond tease.

"Mingyu." Your voice is needy and you hate yourself for it, but he's inches away, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, humor and want lighting them. "I don't understand."

"Hmmmmm," he draws it out, again letting his mouth graze yours. You lurch forward, kissing him without a thought in your head minus HIM, all capitals, in blinking neon lights. He's laughing against your lips, but it's not mean. Not with his arms curling around you, chests meeting.

How does he radiate so much heat all the time?

He pulls you away from the doorway, in the office far enough that he can close the door, pressing you back against it.

"I. Want. You."

You blink at him, as though he speaks a different language. "You do?"

"Oh you are so smart and so not sometimes," he says easily and warmly that it takes you a moment to catch the insult.

"Hey, that's not—"

He kisses you, rendering you speechless and dissipating your umbrage (he's not wrong though). You're grateful for the door because the moment his tongue finds yours, your knees buckle. Your hands seek his hair, carding through, relishing the soft and silky feel. His hand cups your face and the other slides to your hip, and dart underneath the hem of your shirt. You shudder at his fingertips on your skin.

"Sensitive," he whispers. "Are you sensitive other places?"

You blink open your eyes. "Huh?"

The same hand drifts up, finding the bottom edge of your bra. "Here? You sensitive here?" There's still a smirk playing on those devastating lips and if you weren't so far gone on this man, you'd be annoyed with his arrogance.

He doesn't expect an answer, not that you have one because your body thrums like a plucked harp string. Fingers slip under your bra to the delicate skin reverently. His hand is warm, a little rough, but pleasant…decadent as he gently squeezes.

"I…"

He kisses you again, speaking in between. "I like you like this. All dazed and confused."

"You like me stupid?"

He laughs, smile blinding. "I like seeing other sides of you," he says, as his thumb rubs over your nipple. You arch against the door. "Easy, madam boss."

The teasing appellation sends a shock of ice through you. What are you doing?

"GYU!"

You both hear Jungkook through the door all the way from the bar.

"Need a hand out here!"

You pull his hand out and move around him as quickly as possible. "You ought to see if he's okay."

Mingyu says your name, but you don't turn around.

"Please go back on the floor."

There's a sigh. "Fine. But we're discussing this later." The door to your office opens and closes. You turn around to make sure he's gone. The lack of his presence is both relieving, but also painful.

This can't be dismissed as a fluke.

Despite that you'd rather go home then have to face him, or anyone in the bar tonight, you still come out at your usual twenty minutes until closing. There are a few stragglers, and Jungkook is cashing them out.

Mingyu is collecting glasses and pauses when he sees you. "Hey."

"Hi. I'll start on the floors."

"Oh but—"

"I'll get the floors." You hate sweeping and mopping, but you figure you deserve the punishment right now. You go to collect the broom and dustpan, starting in the far corner where people are not located. You're so focused on it that it takes you a moment, or several to realize that there's raised voices.

You look over to see that your bartenders are dealing with a pair of belligerent drunks, most likely kids from the university a town over. When one swings at Mingyu (never mind that Mingyu easily avoids the fist), that's when you pull out your cell to call the sheriff.

"It's okay," Jungkook tells you. "We got them. We can take them over there." The station isn't far; nothing is that far in Carats Ridge. Then he and Mingyu look around as the two drunks in their charge start to protest. You watch as Mingyu pulls one's arms behind him, holding his wrists together like a makeshift binding.

You are delusional, truly, because you think it's hot.

"I can finish the closing up, guys. Just go home after you drop them off."

"No, we can't—" Mingyu starts, but you cut him off.

"You're both doing me a favor, taking the trash out like this. I'll finish up. Good work." You move to open the front doors for them. Jungkook has his customer in a headlock and is laughing. Mingyu stops at the threshold.

"I don't—"

"It's all good, Mingyu. I'll clock you both out. Get home a little earlier tonight." You smile up at him. "I appreciate it."

He looks like he wants to say more, but the guy he's escorting starts trying to escape again, so he holds his arms more firmly, and continues to the sidewalk in front of the pub. He watches you as you shut the door and you know that what happened earlier won't be shoved under the rug. You both will have to address it eventually.

But not tonight.

You finish the floor, wipe down the tables and put up the chairs. You look over the bar area, but they apparently got that taken care of first. You check the front door again to make sure it's locked before heading to your office. When you grab your bag, your face heats with the memory of his hands and mouth, but you push it away as you turn off the lights.

It's later than you usually leave, but closing by oneself takes twice as long.

Liquor store room locked. Lights and all stoves off in the kitchen.

You let out a sigh, already missing the work because when you're working, you don't have to think much. Or you can only think about the work you are doing. Not…not anything else.

You wonder if you can metaphorically flog yourself when you get home.

You open the back door, curse the pouring rain, and set the door to lock automatically.

"Hey."

The sound you make is on par with some sort of small yappy dog.

"For fuck's sake, Mingyu. Are you insane? I have pepper spray in my bag."

He grins sheepishly, standing under one of the eaves of the pub. "Probably no good there because you didn't even try to grab it." His hair is damp, hanging in his eyes.

You close the back door and check it to make sure it's locked. "Well, now that I know someone might be waiting right outside the back door, I'll make sure to walk out with it in hand."

He leans against the building, arms crossed, but shoulders relaxed.

"Um." It now settles into your mind that it's Mingyu here. In front of you. Only hours after— "Did everything go okay at the station? Do I need to make a statement?"

"Everything's fine. And no. No statement." He waves a hand like handling antagonistic sots is no big deal. "They got real docile when they put handcuffs on them." He straightens up. "I thought I might miss you."

You close your eyes and take a deep deep breath. Opening your eyes, you begin: "So, what happened today was—"

"Not enough."

You had a speech. Or at least some fragments of a speech.

"You can't say that."

His slow-growing grin absolutely decimates you, and your self-control.

"I can't? I can't tell you that seeing your eyes all glassy from want, wanting me, didn't just whet my appetite for you?" He reaches out and pulls you close, hands on your upper arms, gentle but firm. "How knowing that you're probably still thinking about me, a room away while I'm at the bar made me want to let Kook handle the crowd and lock you and me in that office until we're both spent. Until we both are satisfied."

Can you combust from only his words? From the sheer amount of desire his words and his presence incite? Spontaneously turn to flame despite the deluge falling from the sky.

"You really can't say that."

"Give me tonight and I'll do more than say it." He doesn't give you time to consider, but presses his lips to yours. You sigh, body relaxing at his taste. He smells like amber and your pub. His hands slide from your arms to your neck, so he can angle you for kisses deeper. You've dropped your bag, fingers drifting under his t-shirt to the warm skin there. He shivers at your cold touch.

"Come home with me," he murmurs, breaking the kiss for those four words.

"But—"

"He's not there. Come home with me." He traces his thumb along the column of your neck before taking you by the hand and leading you into the rain. You grab your bag and stumble after him. He unlocks an easily twenty-year-old VW beetle, and ushers you in before jogging to the other side. You are soaked from the storm outside and immediately tremble even though it's not cold.

"This is yours?"

He closes the driver's door and turns the key before messing with the dash so heat starts pouring out of the vents. You sigh as it takes a little of the chill away.

"The car?"

You nod as he reaches into the back seat and hands you a towel. "It's clean…and yeah, the car is mine."

You start to chuckle.

"What?"

"Mingyu. You are the tallest man I know. Why did you get a tiny car?"

He tries to look annoyed, but his eyes sparkle (or that's the rain still on his eyelashes). "I like this car."

Your laugh is almost drowned out by the thunder outside. He leans over to kiss you, cradling your cheek in his big hand. You return it, moaning when his tongue dances with yours. When he draws back, you place the towel on his head and dry his hair.

"I can't have a sick bartender." You rub with the towel, getting rid of the excess water at least. He watches you. "Most people look like drowned rats, but you're even prettier, how is that possible?"

"Shut up," he mutters, cheeks turning pink. You laugh again, before jumping when lighting flashes outside the windows. "Are you scared of storms?"

"Not really. Are you?"

He shakes his head, still gazing at you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone delicately.

"I thought you were in a hurry." His attention is discombobulating. He kisses you again, slower and leisurely. You let the towel fall into your lap as you run your hands through his hair. He pulls you closer, damn the hand brake between you. He lowers it before sliding one hand to your ass and lifting you so your in his lap, facing him. The steering wheel presses into your lower back. "We aren't—"

He shushes you before drawing up your top and pulling it off. You instantly cover yourself with a protest and then shiver. He pulls your arms out of the way, eyes taking in his fill.

"Thought about you for so long," he says, voice barely heard above the storm. "Wanted to see you like this." He starts to undo your jeans, mouth giving you no chance to respond verbally to his words. You whine when his hand slips into your underwear.

"Oh my god," you gasp when his finger enters you. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks and nose as he skims your slit with said finger. "Gyu…."

"Already wet for me."

"Has nothing to do with the rain." You're not sure how you can joke while he's touching you like this. But he knows how much you want him, it feels like someone should humble him from time to time.

He pinches your clit and you jolt. "I know the goddamn difference," he says before nipping your neck. "I thought you'd be good for me."

His voice is velvet and you pull his face back to yours so you can kiss him again. "I'll be good," you whisper on his lips. Again and again you kiss, taste, delve as he curls one finger, and then a second in your cunt, his thumb teasing your clit.

"Hey baby," he says when you start to squeeze his fingers. "Pull the lever so we can push the seat back?"

You blink at him, brain dazed. His grin widens.

"What are you smiling about?"

"You," he answers, pulling his fingers out, making you curse. He pulls the lever and pushes the back of the seat. "I like it when you're spacey, because of me." He tugs you down so your lying on him.

"You like me dumb?"

"Just cause you're always on top of things," he assures you. You huff, and sit up, working on his jeans' button and zipper.

"There's some joke in there about me being on top right now."

"If you weren't spacey, I bet you'd come up with—" he groans when you wrap your hand around his cock. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You use what he's already leaked to lubricate your hand and his cock. You stroke carefully, then tighten your grip. His hand on your hip digs in deep.

"Condom?" you ask, leaning down to kiss the tip. He groans.

"Don't you have a million in the office for the bathrooms?"

"You want me to go in there, right now and get some?" You lean over him, eyebrows up in question.

"No, I can't wait, I'll pull out, I promise. I'm clean," he stutters when you rub your thumb over his slit. You kiss him before lining him up with your entrance, and easing down.

You've never heard Mingyu curse that much.

He sits up to capture your mouth with his, hands caressing all your bared skin.

You tug on the hem of his shirt, and he only breaks away for you to pull it off and toss it in the back. His hands return to your ass and your clit as he gently grinds before starting to thrust. You can barely breathe, tracing every line of his chest and arms, kissing and sucking where you can.

He feels so good inside you, the drag of him rubbing every sensitive part of you.

The thunder drowns out the noises you both are making, but you feel his hot breath against your neck when his rhythm picks up.

"Close, baby?" His thumb presses hard and you clench so tight that your orgasm screams through you. It's heady, the euphoria of the release. You're only coming down from the high when he starts to pull out of you.

"No," you say against his ear, nibble on the soft skin. "Come inside."

"Fuck, you sure?"

"Yes." You lick the side of his neck and he trembles when he comes. His mouth open on your shoulder, with his arms wrapped tight around you, his breathing harsh, but slowing.

You take it all in, searing it into your memory.

When he raises his head to look at you, you brush his hair out of his eyes, press the back of your hands against his flushed cheeks. He kisses your fingers.

"Come home with me. I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

Go home with him. Stay in his bed, wake up with him. Have breakfast with him.

Where Jungkook also lives.

Who is your employee.

And so is Mingyu.

The metaphoric cold water dumped on you is like a shock to the system.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You pull away, scrambling to the passenger side, before tugging your underwear back in place and re-buttoning your jeans.

"I should go home."

He says your name in a tone of disappointment and frustration. His hand encircles your arm as you open your door.

"I can't leave my car here." It's a terrible excuse, there isn't high crime in Carats Ridge. "And I—" You jerk away from his touch. "I can't." And you rush back out into the rain, getting in your own car and driving toward your home.

You don't look back.

When you arrive several minutes later, you glance in the rear-view mirror, not sure if you're relieved or saddened that he didn't follow you.

Your phone pings with a message, but you don't check it until you're safe in your house, showered and dried off, now in your pajamas.

»mingyu: we're talking about this tomorrow

You don't answer, already regretting your choices and your actions.

You mean to get up early. To go and do errands. To be a productive member of society.

But your body has other ideas.

For fuck's sake, you're sore.

You grumble at yourself because yes, sex made you sore, but also sex in tight quarters like a VW BEETLE made you sore.

You drag on some loose yoga pants and stumble out of your bedroom.

Then there's a knock at your door.

You debate on answering.

"I know you're in there, I see your car." He huffs. "Can we just talk?"

You open the door and Mingyu is holding a white paper bag, and a drink tray with two cups.

"You ever think I'm not worth it?"

You both still at your unthought-out question.

"What?"

"Come in." You step back to let him in, looking down the sidewalk. "Where's your car?"

"Kook dropped me after we grabbed food." He sets his burdens on your kitchen counter and points to you before you say something. "He knows. He's known forever." He stands in the middle of your kitchen, making it feel small (it's not huge, but Mingyu dominates a space).

"Forever? We only had sex last night." Does your face heat when you say it aloud? Yes, but that's only for you and he to know.

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. "He's known how I feel about you since…well, since…" He hands you one of the two paper cups. "It's weird that I don't know how you like your coffee. Our interactions are never before afternoon."

"So what did you choose?" You take a sniff of the drink. "Smells like cinnamon."

"Cinnamon bun latte." He shrugs. "Or I have an Americano."

"Gross, cinnamon bun latte please."

He half-grins before taking the lit off his cup and blowing in it. You shuffle in to open the paper bag and inhale deeply.

"A couple plain croissants, and chocolate ones."

"You didn't have to bring me breakfast."

He sets his cup on the counter, standing on the other side from you so he can face you. "I would have made you breakfast."

You are going to have to have this conversation.

"Mingyu…" You offer him one of the chocolate croissants. "Do you want sugar or cream with your Americano?"

"I'm good." He takes a bite of the pain au chocolate and waits. For you to say something.

"I'm sorry."

"For?" he asks once he's swallowed.

"Everything. I shouldn't sleep with my employee, but I shouldn't run out on you either. I shouldn't want you, make out with you at work; but I most definitely should not give you mixed signals." You shove your hair out of your face, decidedly glad that he's getting to see you like this: big shirt, loose pants, unwashed face (at least you brushed your teeth) and bedhead.

If he ever found you attractive, he wouldn't now.

You sip your latte and smile. "That's really good."

"Apology accepted," he says. He watches you with those beautiful brown eyes. "Why does it matter if I work for you?"

"Oh come on. I'm your boss. I can fire you."

"Or promote me."

"Exactly, the power imbalance is huge and unfair to you. I could fire you for something like just…" You struggle to find an example.

"But you wouldn't."

"I'm talking theoretically here."

"But you wouldn't." He reaches across the counter to grasp you by the chin. "I know you. You wouldn't ever do that. You worry too much to make that kind of decision."

You stare at him. "Really?"

He sighs. "I could also abuse the dynamic. Use my relationship with you for any sort of promotion, benefits like, I dunno, longer breaks, pay raise, not work."

"You wouldn't. You enjoy yourself, but you work so hard."

"I'm talking theoretically here." He grins at you and you realize what he's doing. You know him. Not everything of course, but you know his character, his work ethic, how he's sees the world.

You are so far gone on this man.

"Okay, I get it, but—"

"You need an assistant manager right? Or supervisor? As the pub gets busier and the paperwork piles up."

"Yes. I've been thinking about that." You can't have him stay after work to do paperwork again, that's too dangerous.

"So who would you promote?" He doesn't let you look away, still holding your chin.

You swallow, nervous. "Honestly, you or Jungkook would do well at it. You've got a more laid-back temperament, but you can handle yourself in chaos. Jungkook is far more hyper, but he adjusts easily and has a strong sense of what's fair, so I don't worry about him keeping the peace." You shrug. "I think it be easier if you two talked it out and decided together who was a better fit. I'm too concerned that if I promoted you, it would show favoritism, or if I promoted Jungkook, I'd be doing it because I didn't want to show favoritism, which is kind of the same thing."

His smile inches across his lips. "See. You're a great boss. You don't like theme nights, but you were willing to give them a shot because Kook and I wanted to try."

"It's doing too well, I'm annoyed."

He chuckles and lets go of your chin, and returning to his coffee and pastry. "Is that it?"

"I think that's a big concern."

He pulls out the other pain au chocolate and puts it to your mouth. You take a bite and close your eyes. Why are pastries so delicious?

"I like you. I have since I met you."

As a 'love confession' (you have watched way too much anime in your lifetime), it's probably not the most dramatic or intense, but it still squeezes your heart. The softness of his expression, the domesticity of standing in your kitchen, just getting to look at him.

He likes you.

"At the interview?"

He nods, laughing before brushing crumbs off your lips. "You were so cute. Asking all kinds of questions before firing off ten cocktails, several really obscure, and asking me for the ingredients."

"You told me which ones you didn't know, but said that's what recipe books and your phone was for." You look down, smiling at the memory. "I appreciated that you admitted when you didn't know something. A lot of people would have faked it."

You don't realize that he comes around the counter to stand next to you, until his side presses yours.

"I like you too."

"I had an inkling you might."

"Shut up."

He laughs again before leaning down to kiss you softly. "The employer-employee thing is awkward, I get it. But I'm okay with working through that with you. Are you?"

You stare up at him, deciding that you will regret everything if you don't try. Not with this kind, beautiful, so honest and up front man, who puts up with your wavering.

"Yes."

His smile is warm and fond. He cradles your face in one hand, thumb at your lips. "You're worth it, by the way."

You can believe it, staring into those eyes.

Friday night you spend more time on the floor than you usually do. It's busy at the pub. Some sports match that Jungkook and Mingyu know about (you don't, you do not care enough to keep up) is on the televisions and so many of your regulars are in your pub.

You are mixing a French 75 for Joshua, moving around Mingyu who shoots you an indulgent grin. He bumps hips with you as he shakes up an espresso martini for Jihoon.

"You take up so much space," you tell him, mock-complaining.

"So I'm big?"

You don't answer that. It is not appropriate work conversation, but the glint in his eye is enough.

It's not like you weren't babbling with affection and praise this morning at yours. He really likes having sex in the morning.

He really likes you.

You hand Joshua his drink before finding the next patron. You halt when you see Jeonghan at your bar, royally arrogant smirk in place as he eyes you, then Mingyu, then you again with a perfect eyebrow raise.

"What'll be?" you ask, not commenting on the nonverbal conversation he's having with you.

"Glass of port."

You fulfill his request as Jungkook reaches over you for a wineglass. He winks at you.

The first thing you'd done after the eventful Thursday morning was talk to Jungkook. You explained that you and his best friend were seeing each other, but it would not in any way affect the workplace and climate.

"I hope it does." He leaning against the shelf of tequila in the liquor store room.

"Excuse me?"

"I hope it affects the workplace. I hope you guys are stupid happy." His grin is bright and gleeful, before dropping into a serious expression. "But you know, if you break his heart, I won't forgive you."

"Fair and valid."

"If he breaks yours, I'll punch him," he tells you with the same amount of glee as he leaves to finish up prep work.

"I…I, uh, appreciate that?"

He waves and is gone before you can say anything else.

"So things are good?" Jeonghan says when you hand him his port.

"How can you tell?"

"You both keep stealing glances at each other, and honestly? It's gross." But he's smiling. "So not a fluke?"

"Not a fluke."

"So you won't be coming in to The Bookery to have a meltdown anymore?"

"Don't sound so disappointed," you fire back and then leave him to his drink. The crowd is settled now, your bartenders have everything under control. You tell Jungkook (who is closest) that you're going to the back to do some paperwork and he waves you away.

You push through the 'employee only' doors and head down the hallway to your office. Your hand is snagged and you're spun around into an embrace.

"Just one kiss," Mingyu says, mouth following his words. It's quick, almost chaste. He releases you before you can fully soak it in.

"We shouldn't—"

"Probably not," he answers, with a wicked grin. "But this is more fun." And he disappears back through the doors to bar and the people.

You're smiling, heart light and fluttery.

Way more fun.

a/n2: i originally outlined this for a lot more shenanigans, and even MORE avoidance on the mc's part. but turns out romcoms want miscommunication and this particular mingyu just won't allow that. :D

He smirks at his word thrown back at him. "I mean, if he kissed you, it's not a problem to him."

"He might have been too exhausted to think through it fully."

You get another unimpressed expression from Jeonghan. He hands you a dustcloth.

"What?"

"If you're going to bother me with this, at least work while we talk."

You don't mind dusting bookshelves and books, it's soothing. Jeonghan's complete disinterest or concern about the uneven dynamic between you and Mingyu is less soothing.

"You know what?" you say, after an hour of talking yourself in circles. "It was only a kiss. He probably thinks nothing of it. It'll never happen again, and it's just a blip. A fluke."

You throw the dustcloth at Jeonghan's head when he snorts.

When Wednesday comes back round, you are more nervous than you were after your explosion on Mingyu outside the arcade. This is more guilt heaped on top of desire, cut with shame.

You are his boss. You are his employer and despite that, you desperately want him to kiss you again.

First kisses are nearly always awkward. Two mouths that don't know each other, that have different rhythms and styles. It should not go perfectly on first attempt.

Of course Mingyu would be the exception.

You've planted yourself in the liquor store room, hoping the tedious process of checking inventory will push your nerves out of mind. The bottles upon bottles of so many colors and shades is visually distracting.

But then, as you mark that you'll need two boxes of Titos this next shipment, you hear the back door open and close, the jostling of two buoyant male voices. You freeze, but try and focus on the shelf of cordials.

"Helloooo," Jungkook pops his head in through the open doorway. "Are we low on anything?"

"No, we're good." Business, business. Mingyu sticks his head in, standing next to Jungkook and you gulp, heart jumping to 120 beats a minute. "Um, maybe run a special on a bourbon cocktail? I want to get rid of that Wild Turkey bourbon, so we can pull in some better brands."

"Bourbon. Perfect." Jungkook ducks under Mingyu's arm to head toward the front of house and the bar.

You can feel his gaze as you go back to counting the bottles of Baileys.

"Madam boss…you good?"

"Of course, I'm good." You force a casual smile to your lips, looking up to reassure him. "Are—" you voice cracks and you clear your throat. "Are you well?"

A smile plays on his lips. "Yeah."

"Good." You swallow and look away though it kills you. His hair is messy today, he must have washed and slept on it; fluffy and soft.

"Good." The warmth in his voice makes your skin heat, but by the time you allow yourself to look back up, he's gone.

Right. That's good. Business as usual.

When you come out, about two hours after opening, you realize you forgot (how could you) that tonight is another theme night.

All of your copper mule mugs are littered along the bar. There's a plushie horse's head on a pole, a child's riding toy. A few of your patrons are wearing large, ostentatious hats. Like the ones from…

You pick up one of the empty used mugs and sniff.

Mint Juleps. The theme is the Kentucky Derby.

"Want one?" Mingyu pops up at the end of the bar where you are stationed. His nearness makes your heart speed up all over again.

"Absolutely not. Those are disgusting."

He grins at your wrinkled nose. "Agreed, but they're going over very well." He pulls a large pink hat with netting from a stack under the bar. "Want this instead?"

"No thank you. I don't really have the outfit to balance it out."

He laughs and crossing his arms to rest on the wood next to you. Forearms all on display for your eyes. "That hasn't stopped them." He nods down the bar to where Seokmin and Soonyoung wear a blue and red versions of the very hat in front of you. The rest of their clothing is their usual wear; jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and windbreakers.

"Where did all these hats come from?"

"The high school's costume closet." He watches you for a moment. "You come out just to check on us?"

You look away from the big hats to him.

Oh no.

You recognize that look.

It's from Saturday night.

When he kissed you.

"Of course. I always do. Why else would I leave the delights of my Quickbooks software?"

He inclines a bit more toward you. You hold your breath.

"That's it?"

You nod, too emphatically to be believable. "That's it." You tear your gaze from him, back to the rest of the pub. "You look like you both are fine. Do either of you need a break?"

"We've got it taken care of, madam boss." He has straightened up and put more space between the two of you. "Don't forget to eat something."

"Promise." You did forget to have dinner a lot of the time. Hurrying away is absolutely cowardly of you, and you'll scold yourself later for it. But he's too close, smells too good (even around the alcohol and customers), looks too wonderful.

It's safer in the back.

"Hey."

You jump up at his voice, banging your knee on your desk. "Ow. Mingyu…is everything okay?" You glance at the time on your computer. It's not closing time yet. You haven't missed that, but you've been staring blankly at the screen for the last hour.

"Everything's fine," he says, walking into the office. "Sorry to worry you. It's my break. I was checking on you."

"You don't have to do that." You rub your knee and wince.

"I don't have to, but I like to." He plops in his usual spot, on the arm of the chair, before looking around. "You finish the receipts I was doing?"

"Yes. Thank you for what you did. It was a big help." You keep standing, hands stacking papers as though looking busy will make it easier to reference last Saturday night. You point to your half-empty plate. "I ate."

"Good."

"Do you want something? I can go ask the kitchen to—" You turn to head that way.

"Madam boss, are you avoiding me?"

You freeze. "I'm not."

"Turn around and say that again. With feeling." If it wasn't for the humor in his voice, you'd bristle at the words. You do turn around.

"I'm not avoiding you."

He stands, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You sure? Feels like it."

"Maybe it's just your ego."

He shrugs. "Maybe a little." He takes a few steps toward you. The open office door is at your back and you really don't want to walk out into the hallway where anyone can see you two. "You know, I didn't text you since Saturday, cause I figured you were freaking out and I wanted to let you do that. Let you get all that out of your system."

"What?"

He stops a foot away, bending down (stupid height) so your faces are as close as they were Saturday night.

"Should I have messaged you? Told you I was thinking about you?" He lets his nose touch yours. "Told you that any weird excuse you come up with for why I kissed you is completely wrong?"

Your lips part. "You were exhausted and therefore like being drunk, you didn't know what you were doing?"

He rolls his eyes, but doesn't move back. "You and I have been around enough drunk people to know, they know exactly what they're doing…it's just hazy. And yeah," He puts a finger on your lips when you try to speak. "I was tired, but I knew exactly what I was doing. Any other explanations?"

"You thought I was someone else?"

His eyes go dark when you say that, his finger still on your lips. "Never." He drops his finger and closes the distance, the touch of his lips on yours slight. It's a tease beyond tease.

"Mingyu." Your voice is needy and you hate yourself for it, but he's inches away, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, humor and want lighting them. "I don't understand."

"Hmmmmm," he draws it out, again letting his mouth graze yours. You lurch forward, kissing him without a thought in your head minus HIM, all capitals, in blinking neon lights. He's laughing against your lips, but it's not mean. Not with his arms curling around you, chests meeting.

How does he radiate so much heat all the time?

He pulls you away from the doorway, in the office far enough that he can close the door, pressing you back against it.

"I. Want. You."

You blink at him, as though he speaks a different language. "You do?"

"Oh you are so smart and so not sometimes," he says easily and warmly that it takes you a moment to catch the insult.

"Hey, that's not—"

He kisses you, rendering you speechless and dissipating your umbrage (he's not wrong though). You're grateful for the door because the moment his tongue finds yours, your knees buckle. Your hands seek his hair, carding through, relishing the soft and silky feel. His hand cups your face and the other slides to your hip, and dart underneath the hem of your shirt. You shudder at his fingertips on your skin.

"Sensitive," he whispers. "Are you sensitive other places?"

You blink open your eyes. "Huh?"

The same hand drifts up, finding the bottom edge of your bra. "Here? You sensitive here?" There's still a smirk playing on those devastating lips and if you weren't so far gone on this man, you'd be annoyed with his arrogance.

He doesn't expect an answer, not that you have one because your body thrums like a plucked harp string. Fingers slip under your bra to the delicate skin reverently. His hand is warm, a little rough, but pleasant…decadent as he gently squeezes.

"I…"

He kisses you again, speaking in between. "I like you like this. All dazed and confused."

"You like me stupid?"

He laughs, smile blinding. "I like seeing other sides of you," he says, as his thumb rubs over your nipple. You arch against the door. "Easy, madam boss."

The teasing appellation sends a shock of ice through you. What are you doing?

"GYU!"

You both hear Jungkook through the door all the way from the bar.

"Need a hand out here!"

You pull his hand out and move around him as quickly as possible. "You ought to see if he's okay."

Mingyu says your name, but you don't turn around.

"Please go back on the floor."

There's a sigh. "Fine. But we're discussing this later." The door to your office opens and closes. You turn around to make sure he's gone. The lack of his presence is both relieving, but also painful.

This can't be dismissed as a fluke.

Despite that you'd rather go home then have to face him, or anyone in the bar tonight, you still come out at your usual twenty minutes until closing. There are a few stragglers, and Jungkook is cashing them out.

Mingyu is collecting glasses and pauses when he sees you. "Hey."

"Hi. I'll start on the floors."

"Oh but—"

"I'll get the floors." You hate sweeping and mopping, but you figure you deserve the punishment right now. You go to collect the broom and dustpan, starting in the far corner where people are not located. You're so focused on it that it takes you a moment, or several to realize that there's raised voices.

You look over to see that your bartenders are dealing with a pair of belligerent drunks, most likely kids from the university a town over. When one swings at Mingyu (never mind that Mingyu easily avoids the fist), that's when you pull out your cell to call the sheriff.

"It's okay," Jungkook tells you. "We got them. We can take them over there." The station isn't far; nothing is that far in Carats Ridge. Then he and Mingyu look around as the two drunks in their charge start to protest. You watch as Mingyu pulls one's arms behind him, holding his wrists together like a makeshift binding.

You are delusional, truly, because you think it's hot.

"I can finish the closing up, guys. Just go home after you drop them off."

"No, we can't—" Mingyu starts, but you cut him off.

"You're both doing me a favor, taking the trash out like this. I'll finish up. Good work." You move to open the front doors for them. Jungkook has his customer in a headlock and is laughing. Mingyu stops at the threshold.

"I don't—"

"It's all good, Mingyu. I'll clock you both out. Get home a little earlier tonight." You smile up at him. "I appreciate it."

He looks like he wants to say more, but the guy he's escorting starts trying to escape again, so he holds his arms more firmly, and continues to the sidewalk in front of the pub. He watches you as you shut the door and you know that what happened earlier won't be shoved under the rug. You both will have to address it eventually.

But not tonight.

You finish the floor, wipe down the tables and put up the chairs. You look over the bar area, but they apparently got that taken care of first. You check the front door again to make sure it's locked before heading to your office. When you grab your bag, your face heats with the memory of his hands and mouth, but you push it away as you turn off the lights.

It's later than you usually leave, but closing by oneself takes twice as long.

Liquor store room locked. Lights and all stoves off in the kitchen.

You let out a sigh, already missing the work because when you're working, you don't have to think much. Or you can only think about the work you are doing. Not…not anything else.

You wonder if you can metaphorically flog yourself when you get home.

You open the back door, curse the pouring rain, and set the door to lock automatically.

"Hey."

The sound you make is on par with some sort of small yappy dog.

"For fuck's sake, Mingyu. Are you insane? I have pepper spray in my bag."

He grins sheepishly, standing under one of the eaves of the pub. "Probably no good there because you didn't even try to grab it." His hair is damp, hanging in his eyes.

You close the back door and check it to make sure it's locked. "Well, now that I know someone might be waiting right outside the back door, I'll make sure to walk out with it in hand."

He leans against the building, arms crossed, but shoulders relaxed.

"Um." It now settles into your mind that it's Mingyu here. In front of you. Only hours after— "Did everything go okay at the station? Do I need to make a statement?"

"Everything's fine. And no. No statement." He waves a hand like handling antagonistic sots is no big deal. "They got real docile when they put handcuffs on them." He straightens up. "I thought I might miss you."

You close your eyes and take a deep deep breath. Opening your eyes, you begin: "So, what happened today was—"

"Not enough."

You had a speech. Or at least some fragments of a speech.

"You can't say that."

His slow-growing grin absolutely decimates you, and your self-control.

"I can't? I can't tell you that seeing your eyes all glassy from want, wanting me, didn't just whet my appetite for you?" He reaches out and pulls you close, hands on your upper arms, gentle but firm. "How knowing that you're probably still thinking about me, a room away while I'm at the bar made me want to let Kook handle the crowd and lock you and me in that office until we're both spent. Until we both are satisfied."

Can you combust from only his words? From the sheer amount of desire his words and his presence incite? Spontaneously turn to flame despite the deluge falling from the sky.

"You really can't say that."

"Give me tonight and I'll do more than say it." He doesn't give you time to consider, but presses his lips to yours. You sigh, body relaxing at his taste. He smells like amber and your pub. His hands slide from your arms to your neck, so he can angle you for kisses deeper. You've dropped your bag, fingers drifting under his t-shirt to the warm skin there. He shivers at your cold touch.

"Come home with me," he murmurs, breaking the kiss for those four words.

"But—"

"He's not there. Come home with me." He traces his thumb along the column of your neck before taking you by the hand and leading you into the rain. You grab your bag and stumble after him. He unlocks an easily twenty-year-old VW beetle, and ushers you in before jogging to the other side. You are soaked from the storm outside and immediately tremble even though it's not cold.

"This is yours?"

He closes the driver's door and turns the key before messing with the dash so heat starts pouring out of the vents. You sigh as it takes a little of the chill away.

"The car?"

You nod as he reaches into the back seat and hands you a towel. "It's clean…and yeah, the car is mine."

You start to chuckle.

"What?"

"Mingyu. You are the tallest man I know. Why did you get a tiny car?"

He tries to look annoyed, but his eyes sparkle (or that's the rain still on his eyelashes). "I like this car."

Your laugh is almost drowned out by the thunder outside. He leans over to kiss you, cradling your cheek in his big hand. You return it, moaning when his tongue dances with yours. When he draws back, you place the towel on his head and dry his hair.

"I can't have a sick bartender." You rub with the towel, getting rid of the excess water at least. He watches you. "Most people look like drowned rats, but you're even prettier, how is that possible?"

"Shut up," he mutters, cheeks turning pink. You laugh again, before jumping when lighting flashes outside the windows. "Are you scared of storms?"

"Not really. Are you?"

He shakes his head, still gazing at you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone delicately.

"I thought you were in a hurry." His attention is discombobulating. He kisses you again, slower and leisurely. You let the towel fall into your lap as you run your hands through his hair. He pulls you closer, damn the hand brake between you. He lowers it before sliding one hand to your ass and lifting you so your in his lap, facing him. The steering wheel presses into your lower back. "We aren't—"

He shushes you before drawing up your top and pulling it off. You instantly cover yourself with a protest and then shiver. He pulls your arms out of the way, eyes taking in his fill.

"Thought about you for so long," he says, voice barely heard above the storm. "Wanted to see you like this." He starts to undo your jeans, mouth giving you no chance to respond verbally to his words. You whine when his hand slips into your underwear.

"Oh my god," you gasp when his finger enters you. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks and nose as he skims your slit with said finger. "Gyu…."

"Already wet for me."

"Has nothing to do with the rain." You're not sure how you can joke while he's touching you like this. But he knows how much you want him, it feels like someone should humble him from time to time.

He pinches your clit and you jolt. "I know the goddamn difference," he says before nipping your neck. "I thought you'd be good for me."

His voice is velvet and you pull his face back to yours so you can kiss him again. "I'll be good," you whisper on his lips. Again and again you kiss, taste, delve as he curls one finger, and then a second in your cunt, his thumb teasing your clit.

"Hey baby," he says when you start to squeeze his fingers. "Pull the lever so we can push the seat back?"

You blink at him, brain dazed. His grin widens.

"What are you smiling about?"

"You," he answers, pulling his fingers out, making you curse. He pulls the lever and pushes the back of the seat. "I like it when you're spacey, because of me." He tugs you down so your lying on him.

"You like me dumb?"

"Just cause you're always on top of things," he assures you. You huff, and sit up, working on his jeans' button and zipper.

"There's some joke in there about me being on top right now."

"If you weren't spacey, I bet you'd come up with—" he groans when you wrap your hand around his cock. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You use what he's already leaked to lubricate your hand and his cock. You stroke carefully, then tighten your grip. His hand on your hip digs in deep.

"Condom?" you ask, leaning down to kiss the tip. He groans.

"Don't you have a million in the office for the bathrooms?"

"You want me to go in there, right now and get some?" You lean over him, eyebrows up in question.

"No, I can't wait, I'll pull out, I promise. I'm clean," he stutters when you rub your thumb over his slit. You kiss him before lining him up with your entrance, and easing down.

You've never heard Mingyu curse that much.

He sits up to capture your mouth with his, hands caressing all your bared skin.

You tug on the hem of his shirt, and he only breaks away for you to pull it off and toss it in the back. His hands return to your ass and your clit as he gently grinds before starting to thrust. You can barely breathe, tracing every line of his chest and arms, kissing and sucking where you can.

He feels so good inside you, the drag of him rubbing every sensitive part of you.

The thunder drowns out the noises you both are making, but you feel his hot breath against your neck when his rhythm picks up.

"Close, baby?" His thumb presses hard and you clench so tight that your orgasm screams through you. It's heady, the euphoria of the release. You're only coming down from the high when he starts to pull out of you.

"No," you say against his ear, nibble on the soft skin. "Come inside."

"Fuck, you sure?"

"Yes." You lick the side of his neck and he trembles when he comes. His mouth open on your shoulder, with his arms wrapped tight around you, his breathing harsh, but slowing.

You take it all in, searing it into your memory.

When he raises his head to look at you, you brush his hair out of his eyes, press the back of your hands against his flushed cheeks. He kisses your fingers.

"Come home with me. I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

Go home with him. Stay in his bed, wake up with him. Have breakfast with him.

Where Jungkook also lives.

Who is your employee.

And so is Mingyu.

The metaphoric cold water dumped on you is like a shock to the system.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You pull away, scrambling to the passenger side, before tugging your underwear back in place and re-buttoning your jeans.

"I should go home."

He says your name in a tone of disappointment and frustration. His hand encircles your arm as you open your door.

"I can't leave my car here." It's a terrible excuse, there isn't high crime in Carats Ridge. "And I—" You jerk away from his touch. "I can't." And you rush back out into the rain, getting in your own car and driving toward your home.

You don't look back.

When you arrive several minutes later, you glance in the rear-view mirror, not sure if you're relieved or saddened that he didn't follow you.

Your phone pings with a message, but you don't check it until you're safe in your house, showered and dried off, now in your pajamas.

»mingyu: we're talking about this tomorrow

You don't answer, already regretting your choices and your actions.

You mean to get up early. To go and do errands. To be a productive member of society.

But your body has other ideas.

For fuck's sake, you're sore.

You grumble at yourself because yes, sex made you sore, but also sex in tight quarters like a VW BEETLE made you sore.

You drag on some loose yoga pants and stumble out of your bedroom.

Then there's a knock at your door.

You debate on answering.

"I know you're in there, I see your car." He huffs. "Can we just talk?"

You open the door and Mingyu is holding a white paper bag, and a drink tray with two cups.

"You ever think I'm not worth it?"

You both still at your unthought-out question.

"What?"

"Come in." You step back to let him in, looking down the sidewalk. "Where's your car?"

"Kook dropped me after we grabbed food." He sets his burdens on your kitchen counter and points to you before you say something. "He knows. He's known forever." He stands in the middle of your kitchen, making it feel small (it's not huge, but Mingyu dominates a space).

"Forever? We only had sex last night." Does your face heat when you say it aloud? Yes, but that's only for you and he to know.

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. "He's known how I feel about you since…well, since…" He hands you one of the two paper cups. "It's weird that I don't know how you like your coffee. Our interactions are never before afternoon."

"So what did you choose?" You take a sniff of the drink. "Smells like cinnamon."

"Cinnamon bun latte." He shrugs. "Or I have an Americano."

"Gross, cinnamon bun latte please."

He half-grins before taking the lit off his cup and blowing in it. You shuffle in to open the paper bag and inhale deeply.

"A couple plain croissants, and chocolate ones."

"You didn't have to bring me breakfast."

He sets his cup on the counter, standing on the other side from you so he can face you. "I would have made you breakfast."

You are going to have to have this conversation.

"Mingyu…" You offer him one of the chocolate croissants. "Do you want sugar or cream with your Americano?"

"I'm good." He takes a bite of the pain au chocolate and waits. For you to say something.

"I'm sorry."

"For?" he asks once he's swallowed.

"Everything. I shouldn't sleep with my employee, but I shouldn't run out on you either. I shouldn't want you, make out with you at work; but I most definitely should not give you mixed signals." You shove your hair out of your face, decidedly glad that he's getting to see you like this: big shirt, loose pants, unwashed face (at least you brushed your teeth) and bedhead.

If he ever found you attractive, he wouldn't now.

You sip your latte and smile. "That's really good."

"Apology accepted," he says. He watches you with those beautiful brown eyes. "Why does it matter if I work for you?"

"Oh come on. I'm your boss. I can fire you."

"Or promote me."

"Exactly, the power imbalance is huge and unfair to you. I could fire you for something like just…" You struggle to find an example.

"But you wouldn't."

"I'm talking theoretically here."

"But you wouldn't." He reaches across the counter to grasp you by the chin. "I know you. You wouldn't ever do that. You worry too much to make that kind of decision."

You stare at him. "Really?"

He sighs. "I could also abuse the dynamic. Use my relationship with you for any sort of promotion, benefits like, I dunno, longer breaks, pay raise, not work."

"You wouldn't. You enjoy yourself, but you work so hard."

"I'm talking theoretically here." He grins at you and you realize what he's doing. You know him. Not everything of course, but you know his character, his work ethic, how he's sees the world.

You are so far gone on this man.

"Okay, I get it, but—"

"You need an assistant manager right? Or supervisor? As the pub gets busier and the paperwork piles up."

"Yes. I've been thinking about that." You can't have him stay after work to do paperwork again, that's too dangerous.

"So who would you promote?" He doesn't let you look away, still holding your chin.

You swallow, nervous. "Honestly, you or Jungkook would do well at it. You've got a more laid-back temperament, but you can handle yourself in chaos. Jungkook is far more hyper, but he adjusts easily and has a strong sense of what's fair, so I don't worry about him keeping the peace." You shrug. "I think it be easier if you two talked it out and decided together who was a better fit. I'm too concerned that if I promoted you, it would show favoritism, or if I promoted Jungkook, I'd be doing it because I didn't want to show favoritism, which is kind of the same thing."

His smile inches across his lips. "See. You're a great boss. You don't like theme nights, but you were willing to give them a shot because Kook and I wanted to try."

"It's doing too well, I'm annoyed."

He chuckles and lets go of your chin, and returning to his coffee and pastry. "Is that it?"

"I think that's a big concern."

He pulls out the other pain au chocolate and puts it to your mouth. You take a bite and close your eyes. Why are pastries so delicious?

"I like you. I have since I met you."

As a 'love confession' (you have watched way too much anime in your lifetime), it's probably not the most dramatic or intense, but it still squeezes your heart. The softness of his expression, the domesticity of standing in your kitchen, just getting to look at him.

He likes you.

"At the interview?"

He nods, laughing before brushing crumbs off your lips. "You were so cute. Asking all kinds of questions before firing off ten cocktails, several really obscure, and asking me for the ingredients."

"You told me which ones you didn't know, but said that's what recipe books and your phone was for." You look down, smiling at the memory. "I appreciated that you admitted when you didn't know something. A lot of people would have faked it."

You don't realize that he comes around the counter to stand next to you, until his side presses yours.

"I like you too."

"I had an inkling you might."

"Shut up."

He laughs again before leaning down to kiss you softly. "The employer-employee thing is awkward, I get it. But I'm okay with working through that with you. Are you?"

You stare up at him, deciding that you will regret everything if you don't try. Not with this kind, beautiful, so honest and up front man, who puts up with your wavering.

"Yes."

His smile is warm and fond. He cradles your face in one hand, thumb at your lips. "You're worth it, by the way."

You can believe it, staring into those eyes.

Friday night you spend more time on the floor than you usually do. It's busy at the pub. Some sports match that Jungkook and Mingyu know about (you don't, you do not care enough to keep up) is on the televisions and so many of your regulars are in your pub.

You are mixing a French 75 for Joshua, moving around Mingyu who shoots you an indulgent grin. He bumps hips with you as he shakes up an espresso martini for Jihoon.

"You take up so much space," you tell him, mock-complaining.

"So I'm big?"

You don't answer that. It is not appropriate work conversation, but the glint in his eye is enough.

It's not like you weren't babbling with affection and praise this morning at yours. He really likes having sex in the morning.

He really likes you.

You hand Joshua his drink before finding the next patron. You halt when you see Jeonghan at your bar, royally arrogant smirk in place as he eyes you, then Mingyu, then you again with a perfect eyebrow raise.

"What'll be?" you ask, not commenting on the nonverbal conversation he's having with you.

"Glass of port."

You fulfill his request as Jungkook reaches over you for a wineglass. He winks at you.

The first thing you'd done after the eventful Thursday morning was talk to Jungkook. You explained that you and his best friend were seeing each other, but it would not in any way affect the workplace and climate.

"I hope it does." He leaning against the shelf of tequila in the liquor store room.

"Excuse me?"

"I hope it affects the workplace. I hope you guys are stupid happy." His grin is bright and gleeful, before dropping into a serious expression. "But you know, if you break his heart, I won't forgive you."

"Fair and valid."

"If he breaks yours, I'll punch him," he tells you with the same amount of glee as he leaves to finish up prep work.

"I…I, uh, appreciate that?"

He waves and is gone before you can say anything else.

"So things are good?" Jeonghan says when you hand him his port.

"How can you tell?"

"You both keep stealing glances at each other, and honestly? It's gross." But he's smiling. "So not a fluke?"

"Not a fluke."

"So you won't be coming in to The Bookery to have a meltdown anymore?"

"Don't sound so disappointed," you fire back and then leave him to his drink. The crowd is settled now, your bartenders have everything under control. You tell Jungkook (who is closest) that you're going to the back to do some paperwork and he waves you away.

You push through the 'employee only' doors and head down the hallway to your office. Your hand is snagged and you're spun around into an embrace.

"Just one kiss," Mingyu says, mouth following his words. It's quick, almost chaste. He releases you before you can fully soak it in.

"We shouldn't—"

"Probably not," he answers, with a wicked grin. "But this is more fun." And he disappears back through the doors to bar and the people.

You're smiling, heart light and fluttery.

Way more fun.

a/n2: i originally outlined this for a lot more shenanigans, and even MORE avoidance on the mc's part. but turns out romcoms want miscommunication and this particular mingyu just won't allow that. :D