Work Text:
The beautiful stranger in the corner had become Dunk's favorite distraction.
Three weeks of watching him sketch at the same table, three weeks of that intense focus and those paint-stained fingers, and Dunk still didn't know his name. The stranger with the paint stained fingers, the worn-out hoodie, and the kind of bone structure that made Dunk forget how to make a simple latte.
The stranger who, Dunk had noticed with growing concern, always ordered the smallest, cheapest coffee on the menu and made it last for hours.
"He's here again," Dunk's coworker Prim whispered, elbowing him as she passed with a tray of dirty mugs. "Your starving artist."
"He's not my anything," Dunk hissed back, but his eyes had already found their target. Corner table, as usual. Sketchbook open, pencil moving across the page with focused intensity. Today's hoodie was grey and had what looked like paint splatters in three different colors.
"You've been making moon eyes at him for weeks."
"I have not..."
"You gave him a free muffin yesterday."
"It was going to expire!"
"It was fresh out of the oven, Dunk."
Dunk ignored her, grabbing the coffee pot. "I'm just being helpful. He's clearly struggling. Look at him; he's been nursing that americano for two hours."
"Or maybe he just likes our ambiance."
"In this place?" Dunk gestured at the aggressively beige walls and the motivational poster that said "Espresso Yourself" in Comic Sans. "Nobody comes here for the ambiance."
Prim shrugged. "Your funeral. Or your wedding. With you, it could go either way."
She disappeared into the back, leaving Dunk with the coffee pot and a terrible idea that was rapidly becoming a plan.
The thing was, Dunk had a soft spot for artists. His older brother had been one, a painter who'd struggled for years before finally getting recognition. Dunk remembered the lean times, the way his brother would skip meals to afford supplies, the stress that came with chasing a dream that didn't pay bills.
Now P'Arm was in France, building his reputation in the European art scene. He sent money home regularly, enough to cover Dunk's university tuition and support their parents. The family wasn't wealthy, but they were comfortable. Working class with everyone contributing,
the way it had always been. Dunk picked up full-time shifts at the cafe during summer break, partly to ease the financial load, partly because idle hands made him restless. P'Arm still video-called every week, fussing over his "little kitten" and asking if Dunk was eating properly (typical older brother behavior).
This guy, whoever he was, had that same look. The intense focus, the careful way he made his cheap coffee last, the fact that his clothes were worn but his sketchbook was expensive. Classic signs of someone who prioritized their art over everything else.
Dunk could help. Just a little. Subtly.
He approached the corner table, coffee pot in hand. "Refill?"
The stranger looked up, and Dunk forgot what he was going to say. Up close, he was even more unfairly attractive; sharp jawline, unusually big and expressive eyes framed by long lashes, perfect bow-shaped lips that Dunk definitely wasn't staring at. When he smiled, it was all pearly white teeth and ravaging charm.
"Oh, I didn't order..."
"On the house," Dunk said quickly, already pouring. "You're a regular. We take care of our regulars."
That was absolutely not store policy, but the stranger didn't need to know that. "That's really nice of you, but..."
"I insist." Dunk smiled his most winning smile, the one that usually got him out of trouble with his manager. "I'm Dunk, by the way."
The stranger blinked, then smiled back, a smile that warmed Dunk's soul. "Joong. And... thank you. That's really kind."
His voice was melodious, a little rough around the edges, like good whiskey. Dunk forgot how to form coherent sentences.
"No problem! So, uh, you're an artist?" Dunk nodded at the sketchbook, trying not to obviously crane his neck to see what Joong was drawing.
"Something like that." Joong's smile turned slightly sheepish. "Just messing around, really."
"I bet you're really good." Dunk meant it. Even from his limited upside-down view, he could see the confident lines, the way Joong's hand moved with practiced ease.
"That's generous of you to say."
"Well, if you ever want a second opinion, I'm usually here. I mean, not that you need my opinion, I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like, and..." Dunk realized he was rambling and cut himself off. "Anyway. Enjoy the coffee."
He retreated before he could embarrass himself further, very aware of Prim's knowing smirk from behind the counter.
"Smooth," she said.
"Don't start."
"You didn't even ask if he wanted cream."
"He drinks it black, I've noticed..." Dunk stopped. "I mean. I just. Pay attention to regulars." "Uh-huh." Prim was grinning now. "You're a disaster."
"I'm being helpful."
"You're being something, all right."
Dunk busied himself with wiping down the espresso machine, trying not to glance at the corner table. He failed within thirty seconds.
Joong was back to sketching, but there was a small smile on his face now, and he took a sip of the fresh coffee with what looked like genuine appreciation.
Okay. So maybe Dunk had a tiny crush. That was fine. Completely manageable. He could be helpful and professional and not at all weird about it.
His phone buzzed. A text from his best friend Ryu.
Ryu: dinner tonight?
Dunk: can't, working late
Ryu: you're always working late
Ryu: are you avoiding me
Ryu: did i do something
Dunk: no!! just saving money
Ryu: for what
Dunk hesitated, then typed:
Dunk: remember how P'Arm struggled before he made it? i want to help artists like that. there's this guy who comes to the cafe...
Ryu: here we go again
Ryu: DUNK
Ryu: please tell me you're not adopting another stray
Dunk: I'm not adopting anyone! I'm just being nice
Ryu: you're too soft for your own good
Ryu: and your money is hard earned too, remember that
Ryu: you work double shifts at that cafe
Dunk: I know, but if I can help someone...
Ryu: just don't forget to take care of yourself too
Ryu: be careful okay?
Dunk: I will
He looked up at Joong, who was now frowning at his sketch, eraser shavings littered across the table. His hoodie had a hole in the sleeve. His sneakers, visible under the table, were worn at the edges.
No. This guy was the real deal. And Dunk was going to help him, even if it was just in small ways.
Starting with making sure he didn't pay full price for coffee again.
***
Over the next week, Dunk's "subtle support" became a carefully orchestrated operation.
Monday: Free refill. Dunk just didn't charge him. If his manager noticed the register was short, he'd deal with it later.
Tuesday: "Oops, made an extra croissant." It was actually a day-old one Dunk had saved from being thrown out.
Wednesday: Joong tried to pay full price. Dunk "accidentally" rang it up as a small instead of a large. He'd make up the difference somehow.
Thursday: A sandwich appeared at Joong's table. "Customer cancelled their order," Dunk lied smoothly. In reality, it was his own lunch that he'd planned to eat during his break. He'd just skip it.
Friday: Joong looked tired, so Dunk upgraded his americano to a cappuccino. He'd stay late and clean extra to make up for the missing inventory. The small smile on Joong's face when he tasted it? Worth the extra hour of work.
By the end of the week, Dunk had skipped three meals, worked two extra hours unpaid, and would probably get a lecture from his manager about the register discrepancies. His daily wage was barely 400 baht for an eight-hour shift; he couldn't afford to actually pay for Joong's food.
But every time Joong looked up at him with those big, grateful eyes, Dunk couldn't bring himself to regret it.
Prim noticed, of course.
"You didn't eat lunch again," she said, watching Dunk give Joong another "accidentally wrong" order.
"I'm not hungry."
"You're giving him your food."
"I'm not..."
"Dunk. I've seen you. You're going to make yourself sick."
"He needs help."
"And you need to eat. You work double shifts. You can't keep doing this."
Dunk ignored her, bringing Joong a glass of water with lemon. "On the house," he said cheerfully.
Water was free anyway, but Joong didn't need to know Dunk had specifically cut the lemon fresh and added a sprig of mint from the plant he'd bought with his own money and kept in the back.
***
Joong's carefully curated life had one unexpected complication: a barista with a heart too big for his own good.
It started innocently enough. He'd found a quiet coffee shop with perfect lighting for sketching, claimed a corner table, and made the tactical error of ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. Now Dunk (sweet, generous, completely misguided Dunk) had decided Joong needed saving.
He should have corrected the misunderstanding immediately. Should have explained that he owned the gallery three blocks over, that his "worn" clothes were actually expensive designer pieces that just happened to look distressed, that he could absolutely afford more than a small americano.
But then Dunk had smiled at him (that bright, genuine smile that made Joong's carefully constructed composure crumble) and offered him free coffee with such earnest kindness that Joong couldn't bring himself to ruin it.
Besides, when was the last time someone had been kind to him just... because? Not because they'd researched his net worth or knew his gallery's reputation. Just simple, uncomplicated kindness.
Never. The answer was never.
So Joong had accepted the free refill, told himself he'd clear things up next time, and gone back to his sketch. Which was actually a preliminary study for a piece he was considering for the gallery's upcoming exhibition, but Dunk didn't need to know that.
His phone buzzed. A text from his gallery manager, First.
First: where are you
First: we have three artists waiting to meet with you
First: JOONG
First: you're at that coffee shop again aren't you
First: the one with the cute barista
Joong: I'm working
First: you're HIDING
First: just because that socialite tried to set you up with her daughter...
Joong: I'm not hiding, I'm taking a break from the gallery scene
First: by pretending to be a struggling artist?
Joong: I'm not pretending anything. I just... haven't corrected a small assumption. First: this is going to blow up in your face
Joong: it's fine. I'll tell him next time.
First: that's what you said last week
Joong looked up at the counter, where Dunk was laughing at something his coworker said. His whole face lit up when he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Joong's determination visibly frayed further.
Okay, so maybe he'd tell him next week.
Or the week after.
Eventually.
Probably.
***
Week two of Operation: Subtle Support (Dunk had named it in his head, he wasn't proud) was going well.
Dunk had perfected the art of the "accidental" extra shot in Joong's americano. He'd started leaving day-old pastries on Joong's table with a casual "these are just going to go to waste." He'd even slipped a coupon for 50% off art supplies into Joong's sketchbook when he went to the bathroom.
He was being helpful. Discreet. A good person.
"You're being ridiculous," Prim said, watching him wrap up a sandwich. "That's the third 'mistake order' this week."
"The customer ordered turkey, I made roast beef, it happens."
"The customer ordered online. There is a receipt. It says turkey."
"Typo," Dunk said firmly, adding extra avocado because Joong needed his vegetables. Artists didn't take care of themselves.
Prim sighed. "You know what? I'm not even going to argue. But when this goes sideways, I'm saying I told you so."
"Nothing's going to go wrong. I'm just being kind to a regular customer." "You're trying to adopt a grown man."
"I am not..."
"You literally asked me yesterday if we could start a tip jar specifically for him."
Okay, so maybe Dunk was getting a little carried away. But every time he saw Joong carefully counting coins for his coffee, or the way his face lit up when Dunk brought him "leftovers," Dunk's heart did something complicated and he found himself wanting to do more.
He approached Joong's table with the sandwich. "Hey! So, funny story, we made an extra sandwich and it's just going to go to waste..."
"Dunk." Joong looked up at him, and there was something soft in his expression that made heat creep up Dunk’s neck. "You don't have to keep doing this."
"Doing what?"
"The free coffee. The food. The..." Joong gestured vaguely. "All of it. I can pay."
"I know you can!" Dunk said quickly. Too quickly. "I just mean, you know, we have extras and you're here all the time and it seems silly to waste food when..."
"Dunk." Joong's voice was gentle. "I appreciate it. Really. But I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me."
The thing was, Dunk did feel like he had to. Or maybe not had to, but wanted to. Joong had this way of focusing so intently on his art, of losing himself in his sketches, that made Dunk want to make sure someone was looking out for him. Making sure he ate. Making sure he was okay.
"It's not a big deal," Dunk said, setting the sandwich down anyway. "Just... eat something, okay? You've been here for four hours."
Joong looked at the sandwich, then at Dunk, and something shifted in his expression. "You're really stubborn, you know that?"
"I've been told."
"And kind. Probably too kind for your own good."
Dunk felt his cheeks heat. "I just don't like seeing people struggle when I can help." "Is that what you think I'm doing? Struggling?"
"I..." Dunk hesitated. He didn't want to offend Joong, but also, the evidence was right there. The cheap coffee, the worn clothes, the way he made everything last. "I just think artists deserve support. My brother was an artist, and I saw how hard it was for him. So if I can make things a little easier for someone else..."
Joong's expression did something complicated. "Your brother?"
"Yeah. P'Arm. He's a painter. It took him years to get recognized, and during that time..." Dunk shook his head. "It was rough. I was too young to help back then, but now I can, so..."
"So you've decided to help me."
"If that's okay?"
Joong was quiet for a long moment, just looking at Dunk with an intensity that made him want to squirm. Then, slowly, he smiled. "You're something else, you know that?"
"Is that a good thing?"
"Yeah," Joong said softly. "Yeah, it really is."
Dunk's chest tightened in that way that was becoming dangerously familiar. "So... you'll eat the sandwich?"
Joong laughed, and it was warm and genuine and Dunk wanted to bottle the sound. "I'll eat the sandwich."
"Good. Great. Perfect." Dunk was backing away now, before he did something stupid like offer to pay Joong's rent. "I'll just... let you work."
He retreated to the counter, where Prim was watching with barely concealed amusement. "You've got it bad," she said.
"I don't want to hear it."
"He's going to break your heart."
"He's not..." Dunk stopped. "Wait, what?"
"Dunk. Honey. You're falling for a guy you're trying to rescue. That doesn't usually end well." "I'm not trying to rescue him. I'm just being supportive."
"You're trying to be his sugar daddy."
"I am NOT..." Dunk's voice came out too loud, and several customers looked over. He lowered his voice to a hiss. "I am not trying to be anyone's sugar daddy. I'm just helping out someone who needs it."
"Does he though? Need it?"
"Yes! Look at him!"
They both looked. Joong had unwrapped the sandwich and was eating it with obvious appreciation, still sketching with his free hand. He looked perfectly content, perfectly at ease, and perfectly devastating in the afternoon light.
"I see a hot guy eating a sandwich," Prim said. "What do you see?"
"Someone who deserves to be taken care of," Dunk said quietly.
Prim's expression softened. "Oh, Dunk. You really do have it bad."
"Is that a problem?"
"Only if he breaks your heart." Prim's voice was gentle but firm. "The world's full of all kinds of people, Dunk. What if he's taking advantage of you? Some people love free stuff and won't say no even when they don't need it."
"He's not like that."
"You don't actually know that. You don't know anything about him except that he draws and orders cheap coffee."
"I know enough," Dunk said stubbornly, pushing away the memory of the last time he'd tried to help someone (a senior from university who'd accepted his generosity for months before laughing about "naive little Dunk" to his friends). That had stung. But Joong was different. He had to be.
***
The sandwich was perfect.
Joong took another bite, savoring the homemade bread, the perfectly seasoned roast beef, the avocado that was ripe but not too ripe. Someone (Dunk) had put real care into this. Care.
Which was exactly why Joong should have said something. Should have explained. Should have stopped this before it went any further.
Instead, he pulled out his phone.
Because the thing was, Joong was used to transactional relationships. Every smile had an agenda, every compliment came with an unspoken ask. People were always angling for something; a spot in his next exhibition, a meeting with a wealthy collector, an introduction to someone important.
But Dunk? Dunk just wanted to make sure he ate lunch.
And that terrified him.
Joong: I need advice
First: what did you do
Joong: the barista made me a sandwich
First: ...and that requires advice?
Joong: he MADE it. Like, personally. With extra avocado.
First: uh oh
First: you're catching feelings for your fake poverty scheme
Joong: it's not a SCHEME, I just haven't corrected a misunderstanding
First: you're letting a barista feed you free food because he thinks you're poor First: that's a scheme
First: also morally questionable
Joong: I tried to tell him I can pay!
First: did you though
First: did you actually say "I own a gallery and I'm wearing a 500 dollar distressed hoodie"
Joong looked down at his Balenciaga hoodie. In his defense, it had come pre-distressed. Joong: he wouldn't believe me anyway
First: because you've been lying by omission for weeks
Joong: I haven't been LYING
First: what would you call it?
Joong: ...strategic silence?
First: you're hopeless
First: just tell him the truth before this gets worse
Joong: I will
First: when
Joong: soon
First: WHEN
Joong looked up at the counter, where Dunk was helping a customer, his whole face animated as he explained the difference between a cappuccino and a latte. He was wearing a coffee stained apron and had flour in his hair and Joong wanted to sketch him, wanted to capture the way the light caught his smile, wanted to...
Damn it.
Joong: this is getting complicated
First: we established that
Joong: no, I mean really complicated
First: ...
First: you like him
Joong: that's not the point
First: that's EXACTLY the point
First: you like him and he thinks you're poor
First: this is a disaster
Joong: it's fine
First: it's really not
Joong: I'll tell him. Next time.
First: you said that last week
Joong: this time I mean it
First: sure you do
First: just don't come crying to me when he finds out and stops talking to you
Joong put his phone away and took another bite of the sandwich. It really was good. Thoughtful. Made with care by someone who barely knew him but wanted to make sure he was okay.
When was the last time someone had taken care of him like this? Not because of what he could do for them, not because of his name or his gallery or his connections, but just because they wanted to?
Never. The answer was still never.
And that was the real problem. Dunk made him feel seen in a way that had nothing to do with his success or his money. Dunk saw someone he thought was struggling and decided to help, no strings attached.
How was Joong supposed to walk away from that?
He looked down at his sketch, which had, without him quite meaning to, become a portrait of Dunk. The curve of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the flour still in his hair.
Yeah. He was completely screwed.
***
"I'm just saying," he told Ryu over video call, "what if we organized a small art show? Just local artists, very casual, and we could feature Joong's work..."
"Dunk. Buddy. Light of my life. You need to stop."
"But he's so talented! I saw one of his sketches and it was incredible. People should see his work."
"Does he even know you're planning this?"
"...Not yet."
"DUNK."
"I'm going to tell him! I just want to have everything set up first so he doesn't feel pressured to say yes."
Ryu pinched the bridge of his nose. "You realize this is insane, right? You've known this guy for three weeks and you're trying to launch his art career."
"Someone has to! He's too humble to do it himself."
"Or maybe (and hear me out) maybe he doesn't want random coffee shop art shows?"
"Everyone wants their art to be seen," Dunk said firmly. He'd already contacted three local venues. Two had said no, but the community center had seemed interested. "Besides, I'm not doing it just for him. It's for all struggling artists in the area."
"Uh-huh. And how many other struggling artists have you contacted?" "...I'm working on that."
"You're working on nothing except a spectacular crash and burn."
"You're supposed to be supportive."
"I am being supportive. I'm supporting your inevitable breakdown by preparing to say 'I told you so' in the gentlest way possible."
Dunk hung up on him.
The next day, Dunk arrived at work with a plan. A good plan. A foolproof plan. "This is a terrible plan," Prim said, reading the flyer he'd designed.
**LOCAL ARTISTS SHOWCASE**
**Share Your Talent! All Welcome!**
**Contact Dunk at Bean There, Done That**
"What's wrong with it?"
"You put your personal phone number on here."
"So people can contact me!"
"Dunk. This is going to attract every amateur artist in a fifty-mile radius. You're going to get so many bad paintings of cats."
"Art is subjective."
"Not that subjective."
But Dunk was undeterred. He posted the flyers around the neighborhood, carefully placing one on the community board near Joong's usual table.
Joong arrived at his usual time, ordered his usual coffee (which Dunk upgraded to a large, obviously), and settled into his corner. Dunk watched nervously as Joong's eyes landed on the flyer.
Joong read it. Then read it again. Then looked up at Dunk with an expression that was hard to decipher.
"You're organizing an art show?"
"Yeah! Just a small thing. Community focused." Dunk came over, wiping his hands on his apron nervously. "I figured, you know, there's so much talent in this neighborhood that doesn't get seen, and..."
"And you want me to participate."
"Only if you want to! No pressure. But I've seen your work and it's really good, and I think people would love it."
Joong was quiet for a long moment. "Dunk, I..."
"You don't have to decide now! Just think about it. It would be in a few weeks, super casual, just a chance for people to see..."
"Dunk." Joong's voice was gentle but firm. "Can we talk? Like, actually talk?" Dunk's stomach dropped. "Did I overstep? I'm sorry, I just thought..."
"No, it's not..." Joong ran a hand through his hair. "Can you take a break? Please?"
Five minutes later, they were sitting at Joong's table, Dunk's heart hammering in his chest. He'd messed up. He'd pushed too hard. He'd...
"I need to tell you something," Joong said.
"Okay."
"And I should have told you this weeks ago, but I didn't, and now it's gotten complicated, and..." Joong paused. "I'm not a struggling artist."
Dunk blinked. "What?"
"I mean, I am an artist. I do draw. But I'm not... struggling. Financially." "Oh." Dunk felt his cheeks heat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume..."
"No, you didn't assume. I let you think that. And I should have corrected you, but..." Joong looked down at his coffee. "Nobody's ever just... taken care of me like that before. Not because they wanted a favor or an introduction. Just because you thought I needed help. And I liked it. Too much. So I didn't say anything, and that was wrong."
Dunk's mind was reeling. "So you... can afford coffee?"
"I can afford this entire coffee shop."
"What?"
Joong winced. "I own a gallery. Three blocks from here. Archen Gallery. I'm... kind of well known in the local art scene."
Dunk stared at him. "You own Archen Gallery."
"Yeah."
"The Archen Gallery. The one that featured in that art magazine last month." "You read art magazines?"
"My brother's work was featured there two years ago!" Dunk's voice was getting higher. "You're THAT Joong Archen?"
"I'm sorry."
"You let me give you free coffee for three weeks!"
"I tried to tell you..."
"You let me make you sandwiches!"
"They were really good sandwiches..."
"I gave you a coupon for art supplies!" Dunk wanted to sink through the floor. "Oh my god. I tried to sugar daddy a millionaire."
"You tried to what?"
"Nothing!" Dunk stood up abruptly.
"I have to... I need to... excuse me."
He fled to the back room, leaving Joong at the table looking stricken.
Prim found him five minutes later, sitting on a box of coffee beans with his head in his hands. "What happened?" she asked, concerned.
"He owns a gallery," Dunk said into his hands. "Archen Gallery. THE Archen Gallery." "Wait, what? The one that..."
"Featured P'Arm two years ago. Yes."
"Oh." Prim winced. "Oh, Dunk."
"I gave him free coffee. I gave him my lunch. I tried to organize an art show for him." "You didn't know."
Dunk groaned. "I'm an idiot."
"Little bit."
"He must think I'm so stupid."
"Or he thinks you're sweet. Which, for the record, you are. A little overzealous, but sweet." "I can't face him again."
"He's still out there. Waiting."
"Tell him I died."
"Dunk."
"Tell him I moved to another country."
"You're being dramatic."
"I TRIED TO SUGAR DADDY A MILLIONAIRE, PRIM."
"Technically you tried to sugar daddy a multi-millionaire. The gallery's worth is..." "NOT HELPING."
There was a knock on the door. Prim opened it to reveal Joong, looking worried. "Is he okay?"
"He's mortified," Prim said cheerfully. "But he'll live. Probably."
"Can I talk to him?"
"Dunk? You want to..."
"No," Dunk said into his hands.
"He says no."
"Dunk, please. I'm sorry. I should have told you from the start."
"You should have!" Dunk looked up. "Why didn't you?"
Joong stepped into the small back room, and suddenly the space felt very cramped. "Because nobody's ever just... cared about me like that. Not about what I could do for them or who I knew or what connections I had. You just wanted to make sure I ate lunch."
"That's basic human decency!"
"You'd be surprised how rare that is." Joong's smile was sad. "In my world, everything's a transaction. People don't just help without expecting something back; they invest in relationships, network, position themselves. But you? You just saw someone you believed was struggling and decided to help. No agenda. No expectations. And I..." He stopped. "I didn't want to lose that."
Dunk felt his anger deflating. "You could have told me."
"I know. And I'm sorry. I kept meaning to, but the longer it went on, the harder it got, and then you were making me sandwiches and organizing art shows and I just..." Joong laughed, a little helplessly. "I really liked being taken care of."
"You're a millionaire. You can take care of yourself."
"Financially, yeah. But that's not the same thing." Joong took a step closer. "You made me feel seen, Dunk. Not as Joong Archen, gallery owner. Just as... Joong. The guy who likes to sketch in coffee shops."
Dunk’s heart lurched. "Hey, don’t do that."
Joong blinked. "Do what?"
"Talk like that when I’m supposed to be mad at you."
"Supposed to be?"
Dunk considered. Was he? He'd been embarrassed, definitely. Mortified, absolutely. But mad?
"I'm mad that you didn't tell me," he said finally. "But I'm not... I don't know. I'm more embarrassed than anything."
"Don't be. What you did was..." Joong's expression softened. "It was really kind, Dunk. A bit misplaced, maybe, but kind."
"Prim said the similar thing."
"Prim's smart."
"I'm standing right here," Prim said from the doorway.
They both jumped. Dunk had forgotten she was there.
Joong's eyes lit up. "Would you want to? See the gallery?"
"I..." Dunk hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"I'd love to show you. If you want."
"Okay," Dunk said softly. "Yeah. I'd like that."
Joong's smile was bright enough to power the entire city. "My shift ends at five," Dunk added.
"I'll wait."
"You don't have to..."
"I want to." Joong was already backing toward the door. "I'll just... be at my table. Drinking my definitely-not-free coffee."
After he left, Prim turned to Dunk with a grin. "So. A millionaire gallery owner just asked you on a date."
"It's not a date. He's just showing me the gallery."
"Uh-huh. And he's going to wait here for three hours until your shift ends because...?" "Because he's... polite?"
"Dunk. Honey. He likes you."
"Stop talking."
"He really, really likes you."
"I mean it, stop."
But Dunk was smiling.
Archen Gallery was nothing like Dunk expected.
Well, that was a lie. It was exactly what he'd expected; sleek, modern, with soaring ceilings and art that probably cost more than Dunk's entire year's salary. What he hadn't expected was how nervous he'd feel walking in.
"You okay?" Joong asked, his hand hovering near Dunk's lower back, not quite touching but close enough that Dunk could feel the warmth.
"I'm fine. Just... this is a lot."
"It's just a building."
"It's YOUR building. With art that costs more than my car."
"You have a car?"
"Okay, more than my hypothetical car that I can't afford."
Joong laughed, and this time his hand did touch Dunk's back, gentle and grounding. "Come on. I want to show you something."
He led Dunk through the main gallery space, past sculptures and paintings that left Dunk speechless, and into a smaller, more intimate room at the back.
"This is my private collection," Joong said. "Pieces I'm not selling. Just... things I love."
The walls were covered in art (some famous names Dunk recognized, others he didn't). But what caught his attention was the sketchbook open on the desk in the corner.
"Is that..."
"You," Joong said quietly. "Yeah."
Dunk moved closer. The sketch was beautiful; him laughing, flour in his hair, captured in confident, affectionate lines. "When did you draw this?"
"Last week. You were telling Prim some story about a customer who tried to order a 'cappuccino but make it iced' and you were so animated and..." Joong stopped. "I couldn't help it."
Dunk's chest felt tight. "You drew me."
"I've drawn you about thirty times, actually. You're very inspiring."
"Joong..."
"I know I messed up," Joong said, moving closer. "I should have told you the truth from the start. But I meant what I said earlier. You made me feel... normal. Seen. And I haven't felt that way in a long time."
"You could have just told me you liked me."
"Could I? You were so focused on taking care of me. I didn't know if you saw me as... someone you wanted, or someone you wanted to save."
Dunk turned to face him fully. "Both, maybe? I mean, I got the impression you needed help, yeah. But I also saw you as beautiful and talented and you had this way of focusing on your art that made me want to make sure you were okay. That's not just charity, Joong. I liked you."
"Liked? Past tense?"
"Like. Present tense. Even though you're apparently rich and I made a complete fool of myself."
Joong's smile was soft, almost tender. "You didn't. You were sweet. You are sweet." He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind Dunk's ear. "And now it's my turn."
"Your turn?"
"To take care of you." Joong's voice dropped, taking on a quality that made Dunk's stomach flip. "You spent three weeks trying to be my sugar daddy. Let me return the favor."
"I wasn't..."
"Dunk." Joong stepped closer, and suddenly Dunk was very aware of how much taller Joong was, how his presence seemed to fill the space. "Let me take you to dinner. A real dinner, not coffee shop sandwiches."
"You don't have to..."
"I want to." Joong's hand came up to cup Dunk's cheek, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. "I want to spoil you. Take you places. Buy you things. Make sure you're taken care of for once, instead of always taking care of everyone else."
Dunk's heart stuttered. "That's not necessary."
"Maybe not. But I want to do it anyway." Joong's eyes were intense, focused entirely on Dunk in a way that made him feel pinned in place. "You've been trying so hard to look after me. Let me look after you. Please."
Dunk managed to find his voice. “Okay.”
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. But nothing too expensive. I don't want..."
"Dunk." Joong's smile turned slightly wicked. "I'm a millionaire who owns art galleries. Plural. Everything I do is expensive. You're going to have to get used to that."
"That's not fair."
"What's not fair?"
"You can't just..." Dunk gestured vaguely. "Say things like that. With your voice all low and your hand on my face and..."
"And what?"
"And expect me to think clearly!"
Joong laughed, warm and delighted. "Good. I don't want you thinking clearly. I want you saying yes to dinner."
"I already said yes."
"Then say yes to letting me pick you up tomorrow. Say yes to wearing something good that I'm going to buy you..."
"You're not buying me clothes!"
"Fine. Say yes to wearing something you already own, and then say yes to me buying you dessert."
"I can buy my own dessert."
"But you won't. You'll say it's too expensive and you'll try to split the bill and I'll have to fight you on it." Joong's thumb traced Dunk's lower lip, and Dunk's mind went blank. "So let's skip that part and agree now that I'm paying. For everything. Because I want to."
"This is ridiculous."
"This is me taking care of you. Get used to it."
Dunk should protest. Should insist on paying his own way. Should maintain some dignity. Instead, he heard himself say, "Okay."
"Okay?"
"You can buy me dinner. And dessert. But that's it."
Joong's smile was triumphant. "We'll see."
***
Joong did not, in fact, stop at dinner and dessert.
Over the next two weeks, Dunk found himself on the receiving end of what could only be described as aggressive spoiling.
It started small. Joong showing up at the coffee shop with "extra" coffee from a fancy place down the street. ("I accidentally ordered two." "Joong, these are different flavors." "I'm indecisive.")
Then it escalated. Joong casually mentioning that he had tickets to an art exhibition that evening, did Dunk want to come? ("I can't, I don't have anything to wear to something like that." "What size are you?" "Joong, no..." "Too late, already ordered.")
The suit that arrived the next day was beautiful and definitely cost more than Dunk's family yearly budget.
"I can't accept this," Dunk said, even as he ran his fingers over the soft fabric.
"You can and you will," Joong said firmly. "Because I want to see you in it. And because you deserve beautiful things."
"Joong..."
"Dunk." Joong stepped closer, his hand coming to rest on Dunk's waist. "Let me do this. Please. You spent weeks taking care of me. Let me take care of you."
And the thing was, Dunk was starting to like it. The way Joong would text him good morning. The way he'd show up at the coffee shop during Dunk's break with actual lunch, not just coffee. The way he'd take Dunk's hand when they walked, casual and possessive at the same time.
The way Joong looked at him, like Dunk was something to be treasured.
"You're really good at this," Dunk said one evening, sitting in Joong's ridiculously fancy apartment (penthouse, it was a penthouse) after Joong had cooked him dinner.
"Good at what?"
"Taking care of people. Being... I don't know. In charge?"
Joong's smile turned slightly smug. "I've had practice. Running a gallery requires a certain amount of... authority."
"Is that what this is? You being authoritative?"
"Is it working?"
Dunk looked at Joong; at the way he was lounging on the couch, completely comfortable in his space, in his skin. At the way his eyes tracked Dunk's every movement, attentive and focused.
"Yeah," Dunk admitted. "It's working."
"Good." Joong held out his hand. "Come here."
Dunk went, letting Joong pull him down onto the couch, settling against his side. Joong's arm came around him, solid and warm.
"I like this," Joong said quietly. "Taking care of you. Making sure you're happy."
"I like it too," Dunk admitted. "Even though I'm supposed to be the one taking care of people."
"You can still do that. Just let me do it too." Joong tilted Dunk's chin up and kissed him, slow and sweet. When he pulled back, his voice was soft. "Let me spoil you. You deserve it."
"I tried to sugar daddy you."
"And now I'm sugar daddying you back. It's ironic."
"That's not how that works."
"Isn't it though?" Joong's hand traced patterns on Dunk's arm. "You took care of me when you had the feeling I wasn’t okay. Now I'm taking care of you because I want to. Because you deserve someone looking out for you for once."
Dunk tilted his head up to look at Joong. "You know I didn't do all that just to get something back, right?"
"I know. That's what made it so special." Joong's expression was soft. "You have the biggest heart, Dunk. You see someone struggling and you just... help. No questions, no expectations. That's rare."
"My brother always said I was too soft."
"Your brother's wrong. You're exactly soft enough." Joong's hand came up to cup Dunk's face. "And I'm going to make sure no one takes advantage of that. Including me."
"You're not taking advantage."
"Good. Because I plan on spoiling you for a very long time."
Dunk's heart did that complicated thing again. "How long?"
"How long are you willing to put up with me?"
"That depends. Are you going to keep buying me expensive coffee?"
"Absolutely."
"And taking me to fancy restaurants?"
"Every week."
"And looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like I'm something rare and valuable."
Joong's expression softened even further. "Dunk. You are. And yes, I'm going to keep looking at you like this. Every day, if you'll let me."
"That's really unfair."
"What is?"
"You being perfect. How am I supposed to resist that?"
"You're not." Joong leaned down, his lips brushing against Dunk's. "That's the whole point." The kiss was soft, sweet, and full of promise. When they pulled apart, Dunk was smiling. "So," he said. "I guess you're my sugar daddy now?"
"I prefer 'boyfriend who likes to spoil you.'"
"That's a mouthful."
"Then just call me yours."
Dunk's smile widened. "Okay. Mine."
"Yours," Joong agreed, pulling him closer. "And you're mine. My sweet, caring, slightly misguided barista who tried to save me."
"I'm not living that down, am I?"
"Not a chance. It's my favorite story."
"You're impossible."
"And you're adorable when you pretend you're not enjoying this."
"I'm not pretending anything."
"You're blushing."
"That's just... you're just..." Dunk gave up and buried his face in Joong's shoulder. "You're the worst."
"And yet you're here."
"And yet I'm here," Dunk agreed, smiling against Joong's shirt.
Joong's arms tightened around him, and Dunk let himself relax into the embrace. Let himself be taken care of for once. Let himself be spoiled and cherished and held.
It was wonderful, being on this side of things.
Really, really wonderful.
***
Six months into their relationship, Dunk was hosting an art show.
"I can't believe you're doing this," Ryu said, watching Dunk arrange pastries on a table. "Doing what?"
"Hosting an art show. At a fancy gallery. For actual struggling artists." "Joong said I could use the space," Dunk said, adjusting a painting. "And I wanted to help." "You're still trying to save people."
"It's what I do."
"And Joong lets you."
"Joong helps me." Dunk smiled. "He vetted all the artists, helped with the setup, is providing the catering..."
"Is spoiling you rotten, you mean."
"That too."
Ryu shook his head. "I can't believe this worked out. You tried to sugar daddy a millionaire and somehow ended up with a boyfriend who actually sugar daddies you."
"It's poetic."
"It's bizarre."
"Same thing."
Joong appeared at Dunk's elbow, sliding an arm around his waist. "Everything ready?" "I think so. Are you sure about this? Using your gallery for..."
"For something you care about? Always." Joong pressed a kiss to Dunk's temple. "Besides, you were right. There is a lot of talent in this neighborhood that deserves to be seen."
"Even the cat paintings?"
"Even the cat paintings. Some of them are actually quite good."
Dunk leaned into Joong's side, feeling warm and content. "Thank you. For this. For everything."
"Thank you for trying to save me with free coffee and sandwiches. Best decision you ever made."
"Second best," Dunk corrected. "Best decision was saying yes when you asked me out."
"I'll accept that." Joong's arm tightened around him. "Now come on. Your art show is about to start, and I want everyone to know that the cute curator is mine."
"I'm not the curator, you are."
"Tonight, you are. This is your show, Dunk. Your vision. I'm just providing the space." "And the catering. And the publicity. And..."
"And my unconditional support for your big, soft heart that wants to help everyone." Joong turned Dunk to face him. "Which I love, by the way. In case that wasn't clear."
Dunk's voice came out shaky. "You love my big, soft heart?"
"I love all of you. The heart is just a bonus."
"Joong..."
"I love you," Joong said simply. "Have for a while now. Figured you should know." Dunk felt his eyes sting. "You can't just say that right before the art show." "Our art show. And I can say it whenever I want. Because it's true."
"I love you too," Dunk said, holding his cheeks to kiss him. "Even though you're impossible and you spoil me too much and you won't let me pay for anything."
"Those are features, not bugs."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"Makes perfect sense. You love me, flaws and all."
"Who said anything about flaws? I'm still cataloging those," Dunk teased. Behind them, Ryu groaned. "You two are disgusting."
"You're just jealous," Joong said, not taking his eyes off Dunk.
"I'm really not. I'm happy for you. But also disgusted. It's possible to be both." Dunk laughed, pulling back from Joong. "Come on. We have an art show to host." "We do," Joong agreed, taking Dunk's hand. "Together."
"Together," Dunk echoed.
And as the gallery filled with people and art and life, Dunk reflected on how strange life was. How he'd tried to save someone who didn't need saving, and ended up being saved himself. How he'd tried to be someone's sugar daddy and ended up with someone who wanted to take care of him instead.
How sometimes, the best things happened when you let yourself be taken care of. When you let yourself be loved.
***
The video call came three days after the art show.
"So," P'Arm said, his face filling the screen with that knowing big brother smirk. "You're dating Joong Archen."
Dunk's face heated. "How did you..."
"He posted about the art show on his gallery's Instagram. You're in half the photos, looking at him like he hung the moon." P'Arm's grin widened. "Also, Mae called me screaming about how her baby is dating a millionaire gallery owner."
"She what?"
"Oh, you haven't told them yet?" P'Arm looked delighted. "This is going to be good." As if on cue, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His mother.
Dunk answered with trepidation. "Sawadee kha, Mae..."
"DUNK! Why didn't you tell me you have a boyfriend?!"
"I was going to..."
"And not just any boyfriend! Ryu's mother told me he owns galleries! Plural! And he's handsome! She showed me pictures!"
In the background, Dunk could hear his father's voice. "Let me talk to him. Dunk! Is he treating you well? Do we need to have a talk with him?"
"Por, I'm fine..."
"Because you're our son and if he thinks he can just throw money around without respecting you..."
"He respects me! He's very respectful!"
"Good. Bring him to dinner. Next week. Your Mae wants to meet him."
Dunk looked at Joong, who had just walked into the room with coffee. Joong raised an eyebrow, clearly hearing the chaos through the phone.
"Mae, Por, I'll ask him..."
"Not ask. Tell him. Family dinner. Next Sunday." His mother's voice softened. "We want to meet the man who makes our Dunk smile like that."
After he hung up, Joong handed him the coffee with an amused expression. "Family dinner?" "I'm so sorry. They're... a lot."
"I'd love to meet them." Joong sat beside him. "Though I should warn you, my parents are going to want to meet you too. My mother's already been asking why I'm suddenly so happy."
"That's terrifying."
"Oh yes. Apparently I've been 'insufferably cheerful' according to my gallery staff." Dunk groaned. "This is going to be a disaster."
"Or," Joong said, pulling Dunk into his lap, "it's going to be fine. Your family will love me because I love you. My family will love you because you make me happy. And if anyone has a problem with it, I'll just buy them something expensive until they come around."
"That's not how families work."
"Isn't it though?"
Dunk laughed, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's not," Dunk admitted, kissing him softly. "It's actually kind of endearing. In an annoying way."
"I'll take it." Joong pulled him closer. "As long as you keep kissing me like that."