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thepixelelf · 2 years

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Bouquets for a Friend (From a Friend)

Genres: romance, ceo au, secretary/personal assistant au Pairing: Reader & S.Coups (Seventeen) Words: 1.6k Warnings: cheol gets drunk off-screen Notes: another recasted fic because ceo cheol has me in a metaphoric literal chokehold sorry

Your boss gets flowers quite often. This time, when he does, he wants to get rid of them, and who are you to turn down free flowers?

It starts with a confession.

Two, if you really think about it.

A beautiful bouquet sits flat on your desk, the wrapping opalescent around the roses and baby’s breath. It’s a bit much when lying there on your average of average desk, but that’s fine. It won’t stay for long.

Confession #1:

A note reads,

Thank you for yesterday.

Let’s meet again. XOXO

…TMI.

“You have a director’s board meeting at 13:00, then Jang from marketing is coming to speak with you at 15:30, and you have dinner with the Park Family at 17:00,” you say, reading from your agenda. “Oh, and these arrived for you this morning.”

You hold out the bouquet without looking up, checking if you missed anything in your boss's itinerary.

“Who from?” Seungcheol asks. He takes the bouquet from you and picks out the note from the flowers.

“I don’t know, whoever you were with last night.”

You don’t miss the quick, distasteful scrunch of his nose. He reads the note, but he tosses it to the side without much thought and sets the bouquet haphazardly on his desk. Looking at the roses on their own, it actually seems quite sweet.

“They seem to like you. Will you take them out again?”

“I didn’t take them out,” he sighs. “My mother set me up with another heiress.”

Finally glancing up from your agenda, you raise an eyebrow. “Again? I thought you asked her to stop.”

He props his elbows on his desk, digging his palms in his eyes. You feel a bit bad for him; it’s not every day your mother tries to get you hitched with some stranger. Before you started working for Seungcheol, you never thought higher-ups – directors especially – had it hard, but apparently everyone has problems they have to deal with.

“You know her, once she sets her mind on something…” He trails off, and you know exactly what he means. You’ve met his mother more than a few times. She’s… a character, that’s for sure.

Seungcheol sighs again, picking up the bouquet to toss it away with the note. You lurch forward, catching the flowers just before they can fall into the garbage bin.

“…What are you doing?”

You straighten up, bringing the bouquet with you. Your lips shift into a pout as you run your fingertips over the soft petals. “Well don’t throw them away… that’s such a waste.”

Without you noticing, Seungcheol's eyes carefully follow the way you’re handling the bouquet he nearly threw out. “Then… you can have them.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” He clears his throat, hoping you don’t notice the way he was staring, and moves to look at his laptop screen even though it isn’t on. “I was going to throw them out anyway. Why are you so surprised?”

You play with the rose petals again, embarrassed to admit it.

Confession #2:

“It’s just… no one’s ever given me flowers before…”

•

You’re washing dishes when he calls. It’s nearly thirty minutes to midnight, and while it’s not unusual for your boss to call you this late, you honestly didn’t expect anything tonight. He should be home right now after his dinner with the Parks.

You wipe off a soapy hand on your apron to accept the call, squeezing the phone between your shoulder and ear so you can continue working on the dishes.

“Hello?”

There’s no answer, though you’d think there would be one since he’s the one calling you. Besides the white noise a phone call normally has, you can hear the hustle and bustle of someplace busy. Maybe a restaurant or something.

You try again, “Hello?”

“Heeeeeyyyyyyy…!”

You pause, hands frozen where they were scrubbing a tupperware container. Slowly, you pull your hands from the sink and wipe them both dry before taking your phone and properly holding it up to your ear.

“Mr Choi?”

“Hey!”

You take a second to look at your phone, and it is Seungcheol calling – or, at least, Seungcheol's number. His voice sounds a bit… slow.

“Mr Choi, are you alright?”

He says something, maybe, but you can’t discern any words.

“Are you… drunk, Seungcheol?”

“How come no one’s ever bought you flowers before, huh?!” he yells through the phone. He sounds whiny, like a child who’s had their toys taken away. “Why?!”

It’s a strange question, but if he really is drunk, then there are no weird questions. You decide to just answer honestly — arguing with a drunk person never goes the way it’s supposed to.

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve never been in a situation that solicited them. Where are you?”

“But you’re cool!” he bounces back, ignoring your question. “You’re cool and you’re nice and you have that stupidly cute smile and you bring me tea when I’m sick even though I don’t ask you for it!”

You smile. Despite the slightly worrying situation, the compliments still warm your heart. “That’s because you’re my boss, Seungcheol. Are you with anyone?”

“What about your partners from before? Didn’t they ever buy you flowers?!”

Draining the water in the sink, you move around the kitchen with your phone still at your ear to make sure nothing is a hazard for you to leave behind. “I haven’t had a partner in a long time, Seungcheol,” you answer, saying his name again to make sure he doesn’t randomly hang up. “Where are you? I should come pick you up if you’re alone.”

“I’ll buy you flowers! I’ll buy you a million flo—!”

He’s cut off by another voice.

“Stop bothering your secretary!” they yell, presumably yanking the phone from Seungcheol’s hand. You stop pulling on your coat. “Sorry about that, I’m just about to take this idiot home.”

“Joshua?” you ask, recognizing his voice.

“Yeah, sorry. We went out for casual drinks but I guess Cheol wasn’t feeling too casual. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. Goodnight.”

You swear you can hear Seungcheol whining before Joshua hangs up.

•

With your hands on the steering wheel of his car, you look at Seungcheol in the backseat, who’s keeping his eyes closed behind thick sunglasses, his arms crossed stubbornly in front of him. A minor headache, he calls it. A killer hangover, more like it.

Seems he barely even remembers calling you last night.

“After I pick up the suit, we’re going straight to the presentation. Will you be okay, Mr Choi?”

He groans, the frown on his face prominent. “I’ll be fine.”

You nod, knowing full well that he will not be fine, but you can’t do anything about it. The presentation has to happen today, hangover or not. “Okay, I’ll be back in a second.”

There’s a convenience store next to the dry cleaners, and you step in there for a second. After retrieving the suit, you knock on the backseat window.

“Drink this,” you say after Seungcheol rolls down the window, shoving a cheap hangover cure in his face. You hold up his suit with your other arm. “I’m going to put this in the trunk.”

He grunts and takes the drink from you. Normally, he’d argue that he’s not hungover -- he’s got a so-called headache -- but he concedes this time.

You struggle for a second with the trunk of his car. Maybe it’s so expensive that it doesn’t even have one, but you doubt that. Just as you think you’ve got it, the car door on Seungcheol's side opens and slams shut.

“Wait!” Seungcheol yells, panic clear even with his sunglasses on, one hand stretched out as if to stop you.

But it’s too late, whatever it is he wants to delay. The trunk pops open and for a second the world is still because you’re waiting for Seungcheol to talk. He doesn’t, and you follow his gaze to the contents of the trunk.

Bouquets. Lots of bouquets.

An obscene amount of bouquets.

The entire trunk is filled to the brim with flowers of every kind, the colourful petals contrasting with the sleek black of his car. You can tell they’ve been there overnight by the way they're all awkwardly compressed together. A bouquet of yellow roses topples to the road beneath it, and you bend down to pick it up. There’s a note attached, marked with nothing but your name. Looking at the other bouquets, they all have the same note.

“…What’s this?” you ask since you can’t think of any other question.

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, messing up the way you styled it for the presentation. His lips set into a thin line, a grimace, almost, until he answers, “They're… for you?”

“I can see that.” You laugh. The awkwardness settles in just a second later, and you’re both just standing there, smiling at each other.

“Don't— don’t misunderstand,” Seungcheol stumbles to say, sliding off his sunglasses. “I just got you those because I… felt bad! I felt bad. You know, because no one’s gotten you flowers before…”

Your eyebrows twist in doubt. “Is that so? You got me—” You glance to the trunk. “—thirty bouquets because you ‘felt bad’?”

“Yes!” He clears his throat. “I got you thirty bouquets because I’m a good friend.”

“Ah, so these are platonic flowers.”

“Of course. What? You’ve never heard of giving flowers to friends?”

You nod, pursing your lips and studying the yellow roses. “Flowers for a friend…” you consider.

“Yes. Flowers for a friend.”

Looking up, you hold back from laughing at his flustered state.

“From a friend?” you ask.

He clears his throat again.

“Naturally.”

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