Work Text:
Minghao does not have a least favorite day of the week. How could he, when every day is precious, each moment worth living?
If Minghao is honest with himself, though, there's something about Thursdays that make him feel a little more tired than usual. A little more downtrodden, a little less inclined to go the extra mile. But even tired, downtrodden days can be a blessing, he reminds himself, refocusing his eyes on his computer screen with a sigh.
There is always something to gain, always something to learn, even on the worst days.
This is proven almost immediately true when his favorite coworker drops by his cubicle two minutes later, armed with hard copies of the Q3 quarterly reports and a blinding grin.
Minghao smiles back as he accepts the folder. “Thank you, Seokmin-ssi. How are you doing? Any weekend plans?”
“Yes, actually!” Seokmin’s grin widens, eyebrows lifting conspiratorially. “Though not as good as yours, apparently.”
For a second, Minghao thinks about playing dumb. It’s not worth the effort, though, especially not with Seokmin. “Yeah, I’m going on a date this weekend.”
“With Kim Mingyu from marketing!”
Minghao doesn't bother asking how Seokmin knows. Their company is gargantuan, colossal. Exactly the type of place Minghao had said he'd never work for, right up until the moment he graduated and realized his principles (and carefully curated fashion Instagram) wouldn't pay the bills. Even in a place like this, though, word has a way of spreading.
Especially when one’s best friend is Seungkwan from marketing.
Undeterred by Minghao’s lack of confirmation, Seokmin throws a glance over his shoulder before ducking his head closer to Minghao’s.
“I have some information about Mingyu that might be helpful,” he begins, voice hushed. “Should the situation arise.”
Minghao raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? What kind of information?”
Seokmin gestures for him to come even closer, and Minghao obligingly wheels his desk chair over so Seokmin can speak directly into his ear, breath tickling over Minghao’s eardrum. Because he’s Seokmin, his dramatic pause drags on for almost too long before he finally whispers, “I have it on good authority that Mingyu sneezes when he's turned on.”
He gives Minghao a meaningful look and a non-too-gentle squeeze on the shoulder as he draws away. “So if the night heads that way, don’t be alarmed!”
Minghao can’t help chuckling at the mental image of tall, dark, and handsome Kim Mingyu sneezing during sex. “Thanks for the heads up. If we get there, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Seokmin drops him a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll hold you to it! In the meantime, let me know when you get a chance to review those reports.”
***
Minghao doesn't think about Seokmin’s warning at all until Saturday night, about fifteen minutes into his date with Mingyu. The first sneeze Minghao had chalked up to dust. The second, maybe the weather. By the eighth sneeze, Minghao is growing increasingly concerned.
He breaks his fifth rule of human interaction (“Always focus on the person in front of you”) to pull his phone out under the table.
6:09 PM You weren't serious earlier, right???????
Lee Seokmin (Marketing)
i'm always serious
hahaha just kidding. about what?? 6:09 PM
6:09 PM The sneezing thing
Lee Seokmin (Marketing)
ohhhhh lol
ya no i was serious about that one. i heard it directly from wonwoo hyung!! u kno, mingyu’s roommate?
at this point he sexiles HIMSELF as soon as he hears the first sneeze
wait. what time was ur date?? you're at that point already? oooooh xu minghao!! 😉😉😉 6: 10 PM
6:10 PM WE HAVEN’T EVEN ORDERED YET…
Lee Seokmin (Marketing)
oh so he's THAT into u 😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉 6:11 PM
Minghao doesn't have a chance to respond before Mingyu sneezes again. Four times, in fact, one after another. Rhythmic, like his old dance teacher’s clapping.
He gives Mingyu a strained smile. “Everything okay?”
Mingyu looks up from where he's covering his mouth with his hand (eww, gross) and gives Minghao a watery smile. “Yeah! Everything’s fine! Sorry, I just have a thing…”
He waves his snotty hand noncommittally. Minghao watches in detached horror. A thing? A thing? What kind of thing?
If he’d known Kim Mingyu was… well, some sort of deviant, apparently, he never would have agreed to this. Mingyu had seemed like a nice enough guy at work! A sweet, earnest, giant of a man, who’d literally run right into him during their first week of work and apologized for five minutes straight while helping Minghao pick his scattered stack of papers off the floor. A thoughtful man, bringing Minghao a bottle of wine in apology along with a postcard from a local museum because it “looked like it would go with your cubicle decor, Minghao-ssi.” A consistent, steady man, with whom Minghao had grown accustomed to eating lunch, and drinking tea in the break room, and chatting in the elevator on the way home.
None of that had suggested that Mingyu was the type of person who couldn’t even control his Urges for an hour while they’re at dinner. Talk about inappropriate!
Minghao waits until Mingyu excuses himself to the bathroom to flag down the waiter, pay for his drink, and hightail it out of the restaurant.
***
When Minghao goes to scan some vendor agreements Monday morning, he finds Soonyoung with his nose two inches from the printer screen, brow furrowed as he jabs at some buttons with his index finger.
Minghao swallows a sigh. “Want some help?”
Soonyoung’s brow unfurrows faster than a northern field after an unseasonal summer monsoon. “Minghao-ssi! My savior!”
“How have you still not learned how to use the printers,” Minghao says, navigating the printer’s menu to release Soonyoung’s print job in twenty-seven seconds flat.
Soonyoung ignores him, leaning forward into Minghao’s personal space. His face is as open and honest as ever, eyes round and mouth parted to reveal his bunny teeth. “So… how did your date with Mingyu go?”
“Oh!” So the rumors had made it beyond Marketing all the way to the Tax department. Minghao waffles for a second, before deciding to be diplomatic. “Not well. Mingyu seemed… a little under the weather?”
“How so?”
Minghao hesitates. “He was… sneezing a lot?”
Soonyoung bursts into laughter so raucous it takes him several minutes to calm down. Like, full-on wheezing laughter. Slapping-the-knee laughter. Falling-onto-the-printer-and-knocking-over-all-his-freshly-printed-documents-onto-the-floor laughter.
“So it's true,” Soonyoung finally chokes out.
Minghao raises an expectant brow.
“The sneezing thing,” Soonyoung clarifies. He pauses again as another fit of giggles overtakes him.
The tendrils of dread winding their way up Minghao’s spine are growing into full-blown horror. He has to know, though.
“What sneezing thing?”
Soonyoung hiccups, wiping honest to god tears from the corners of his eyes. “You know… I hear he sneezes when he's turned on. Can't help it. It’s like a compulsion, poor guy.”
Heat floods Minghao’s cheeks. So it was true! Not that sincere, good-natured Seokmin would lie to him, but here it was, confirmed by an independent third party!
“I have to go,” he says, picking up a stack of papers at random and turning on his heel. “See you later, Soonyoung-ssi.”
“Wait,” Soonyoung calls after him, abruptly panicked. “Minghao-ssi! You've got my files! I don't know how to reprint those!”
***
Minghao manages to avoid Mingyu for a grand total of three days. They work on the same floor but not in the same department, so for the most part it's fairly straightforward. Minghao just comes in fifteen minutes earlier and leaves ten minutes later, eats lunch in his cube and pointedly does not get tea at 2:12 in the afternoon. No awkward elevator interactions, cafeteria interactions, or break room interactions. Simple! He’s doing a great job.
The rational part of his brain tells him to handle this situation like a functional adult.
It’s not your problem, it's his, he reprimands himself sternly. It’s not your fault he expresses his… desires at inappropriate times and in inappropriate ways. Why are you the one hiding?
Mind made up, he slams his hands on the armrests of his too-fancy, too-expensive company-issued ergonomic desk chair. He’s going to get up! Regain control of his life! Come in when he wants, leave when he wants, make tea when he wants! Kim Mingyu is not going to stand in his way any longer!
His resolve lasts the length of the hallway leading to the break room. That is, until Minghao turns the corner, catches sight of Mingyu’s broad back, and freezes.
Mingyu doesn't look up, occupied as he is with the electric kettle. Silently, Minghao turns on his heel and makes to leave the same way he came in.
He only gets two steps down the hall before Mingyu calls his name, uncertainty hovering at the edges of his voice.
Minghao squeezes his eyes shut for a second before turning around.
“Hey,” Mingyu starts. He’s not really looking at Minghao, fiddling instead with the empty tea packet in his fingers.
“Hey,” Minghao returns, awkward.
They stand there for what seems like an eternity. Then they're both speaking at once, words tumbling over each other with the force of a rockslide, until Minghao snaps his mouth shut and motions for Mingyu to go first.
Mingyu takes a long, deep breath. Then he looks up and launches into what is clearly a pre-prepared speech, punctuated only by his systematic shredding of the tea packet. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I don't know what I did on Saturday to make you run off like that, but I obviously made you uncomfortable in some way. I’ll just—I’ll just leave you alone from now on, okay? You don't have to change your schedule because of me. If you don't want to see me, that's totally fine. I can be the one to change.”
Five minutes ago, that had been all Minghao wanted. Now, though, he feels abruptly cold.
“You don't have to do that,” he says finally. “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly. I just—I don't think it's going to work out, romantically. But we get along well as coworkers, right? Let’s continue to work well together.”
Mingyu gives him a tight smile. Shreds of tea packet poke out from between his fingers, where he’s been rolling them into a ball. “Of course, Minghao-ssi.”
Minghao gives him a curt nod in response and makes his way back to his cubicle. It’s only after he gets there that he realizes he never got a chance to make his tea.
***
Things gradually go back to normal after that. Well, as normal as things can be, considering. Minghao starts seeing Mingyu in the hallways, the elevator, the occasional group meeting. They nod when they pass each other. It’s strained at first, but gets gradually more comfortable as the weeks go by. They don’t meet up in the break room anymore, though. Don’t drink tea together, or coffee, or wine. Mingyu doesn’t ask him to get lunch, or hurry to catch up with him in the hallway when they’re both heading the same direction.
For his part, Minghao tries not to think about it too much. He doesn't think about Mingyu’s handsome smile, his earnest demeanor, the rippling muscles Minghao can still glimpse through his thin dress shirts. He doesn't think about all the discussions they used to have, about art and nature and the Meaning of Life. He especially doesn’t think about how nervous Mingyu had been to ask him out, stuttering out the words through too-dry lips as they stood in line for the cafeteria. Or how crestfallen Mingyu had seemed in the break room, when he’d looked into Minghao’s eyes and told him he’d change.
Sometimes things just don’t work out. Minghao knows that. Mingyu knows that. They’re both grown adults who are mature enough to accept and acknowledge that these things can happen.
So why does it feel so bad?
***
Minghao breaks at the next multi-group outing. He doesn't remember precisely how it happens. One moment he's sipping on a glass of surprisingly good Napa Cab, the next he’s pressed up against the door of a bathroom stall, Kim Mingyu’s tongue down his throat.
Mingyu’s leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down the line of Minghao's neck when Minghao realizes, pushing Mingyu just far enough away that he can see his face. Mingyu whines at the loss of contact but goes without complaint, confusion written all over his handsome features.
Minghao frowns at him, tipsy brain working overtime. “Hang on a second. Are you having fun?”
“I was having more fun before you pushed me away?” Mingyu tilts his head to the side, looking so much like Minghao’s neighbor’s dog that for one dizzying second Minghao almost reaches out to scratch him behind the ears. “Wait, are you having fun?”
Minghao ignores him, frown deepening. They're still standing close in the cramped bathroom stall, and he cants his hips up experimentally. It certainly feels like Mingyu’s having fun. But then… “Why aren't you sneezing?”
Mingyu stares at him. “What?”
“Why aren't you sneezing?” Minghao repeats. His brow can't furrow any further, but he makes a valiant attempt anyways. “If you're not feeling it we can do something else…”
“What are you talking about?” Mingyu sounds baffled.
Is Mingyu really going to make him spell it out? Minghao waves his hand vaguely. “You know… your sneezing thing.”
“What sneezing thing?”
“You know… the thing you do? Where you sneeze? When you're… excited?”
Mingyu's bafflement gradually morphs into horrified realization. “Wait. This whole time… you've thought that I sneeze when I'm horny?”
Minghao is beginning to feel like he's taken a wrong turn somewhere in this bizarre journey. “...Yes?”
“Why would you think that?”
“That's what people told me,” Minghao explains. “A lot of people, actually. And then on our first date—”
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Mingyu sits down on the closed toilet seat, eyes wide. “That's why you ran off?”
Minghao doesn't say anything. He probably doesn't need to, guilt no doubt written all over his face.
Mingyu starts laughing, too loud for the setting. “Let me guess. It was Boo Seungkwan who said that to you.”
“Lee Seokmin,” Minghao admits. Then he snaps his head up, remembering. “Wait, but it wasn't just him! Kwon Soonyoung from Tax told me that too! In a completely different conversation!”
Mingyu shakes his head, movement slipping his unbuttoned dress shirt even further askew. “I forgot you didn't go to our school, so you probably didn't know… they don’t hang out at work because the heads of Tax and Marketing have had beef for like, sixteen years, but Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung-hyung are all best friends from university.”
Minghao’s jaw drops. So they'd been conspiring to dupe him! He splutters for a second, ears heating. “So it wasn't—”
Mingyu shakes his head. “I just had horrible allergies that day. But I’d waited so long to ask you out, and I didn't want to reschedule on you…”
“But why?”
Mingyu sighs and scrubs a hand over his jaw. “I think it was probably my fault—”
“Damn right!” says a voice from outside the stall. Minghao jumps, before catching himself and wrenching the door open.
Standing by the sinks are the dastardly trio themselves. Soonyoung leans half against the hair dryers and half on Seungkwan, who has his arms folded over his chest. Seokmin is pretending to wash his hands, though the water isn’t running and hasn’t been for the entire time Minghao and Mingyu have been in the bathroom.
“Explain,” Minghao orders, crossing his own arms.
When their eyes meet, Seokmin has the decency to look abashed. “Honestly, we didn't think you'd actually fall for it, or that it would go on for so long…”
“But Kim Mingyu deserved it!” Seungkwan exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at Mingyu, who's still sitting on the toilet. “He ate all the Chicken Pop!”
“The what?”
“The Chicken Pop!” Seokmin repeats. “It was a snack Seungkwannie and I used to eat every single day! We’d sneak it into the hagwon and eat it while pretending to yawn!”
“But it was discontinued after we went to university,” Seungkwan says. “And we haven't been able to find any for the last ten years. Until I walked into the Family Mart across from the Shinsegae three months ago and saw six whole bags!”
“Which he bought and brought to work because he's the best friend ever,” Seokmin says, beaming.
“Brought to work and put in the communal break room,” Mingyu cuts in.
Seungkwan throws up his hands. “I labeled it! ‘Property of Boo Seungkwan—DO NOT EAT.’ On every single bag!”
“In gold Sharpie,” Mingyu argues. “How was I supposed to see that against the yellow packaging?”
“Okay, but even if you didn’t see it—why did you eat all six bags? I literally left them in there for less than three hours!”
Mingyu snaps his mouth shut.
Minghao pinches the bridge of his nose. “So, you're telling me… This whole prank was to get back at Mingyu for eating your snacks?”
Both Seungkwan and Seokmin nod.
Minghao turns on Soonyoung, who’s been pretty quiet the whole time. “What about you? Were you also mad about the Chicken Pop?”
Soonyoung shrugs. “Not really. But I always back up my favorite dongsaengs.”
“I’m never printing anything for you ever again,” Minghao proclaims.
“But Minghao-ssi,” Soonyoung starts, eyes going round and pleading, “the fate of the Tax Department depends on it!”
“Should have thought about that before you helped out Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there,” Minghao says grimly, before hauling Mingyu up by the collar. “Let’s go, Mingyu.”
“Where are we going?” Mingyu asks. He’s already trotting next to Minghao, though, one hand holding his jacket as the other buttons his shirt back up.
Minghao spares a moment of thought for each glorious inch of skin being covered before chiding himself for being silly. It’s not like he won’t see it again, if all goes well.
“I thought maybe we could continue where we left off,” he suggests delicately. “Maybe somewhere more… quiet?”
Mingyu’s smile blooms like a Monet dawn, before abruptly shuttering like an Aivazovsky. One of the stormy ones. Don’t ask which one. Look, Minghao’s handle of art history starts getting more tenuous around three drinks in, okay?
Belatedly, he realizes Mingyu is talking.
“—was having fun before, but I—”
“You don’t want to kiss anymore?”
“No!” The denial is so forceful it seems to catch both of them off guard. Then Mingyu’s talking again, scrambling, eyes huge on Minghao’s face. “I mean—I do! I really want to kiss you. So badly. Like, embarrassingly badly.”
“Oh.” They pause just outside the restaurant entrance. Mingyu offers Minghao his jacket, which he waves off. “What’s the problem, then?”
Mingyu takes a deep breath. “Can we have a do-over?”
“What?”
“Can I take you out again? On another dinner, maybe, or to the museum, or like. A winery, maybe. I don’t know. Just. Somewhere we can talk, and try this again?”
Minghao considers him. To his credit, Mingyu doesn’t fidget. Just looks back at him, head cocked slightly to the left.
“Okay,” Minghao decides at last. Monet wishes he could see the expression that overtakes Mingyu’s face at that one simple word. “But promise you’ll take medicine if you feel your allergies coming on.”
“Yes, sir!” Mingyu mock salutes, fingertips to eyebrow in the precise Korean military fashion. “As soon as I feel the first sneeze.”
“And you’d better learn to sneeze in your elbow, Kim Mingyu, so help me God—”