#like I’m not saying romance suck cause it’s the major reason I read that demographic but it’s crazy how restrictive they are in terms

[bbhyuckie]

Crossed Wires - 2

Find Chapter 1 here, and read on AO3 here.

Genre: Slowburn office romance.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, all drinking is legal and responsible.

Things between you and Doyoung stayed respectfully distant for the weeks to follow. The company was in a notably dry period, meaning not a lot of contracts to draft and not a lot of logistics to run. However, for every drought, there was always a flood.

SM signed a contract in early November with a secondary entertainment company to merge under SM’s label. Mergers normally wouldn’t be an issue, but certain subsidiaries were demanding stock rights or downright subsidiary liquidation. While this may not seem like a problem for marketing and advertising, you suddenly had an entirely new demographic to appeal to and draw research from-- and those researching rights cost a lot of money.

Needless to say, you and Doyoung found yourself on the phone with each other increasingly frequently. It was the same as it always was; facts were discussed, documents were sent around, and that was the end of it. Phone calls were brief and brain numbing. All you could afford to think about was work.

Despite the sudden drain on your life force, Doyoung and yourself continued to send notes to each other. The majority of the time, it was in regard to whatever paperwork was in the file, but bits and pieces of personality began to bleed through on both ends. One particular note apologised for the documents being late, Doyoung had been late to work because his cat knocked his phone off his bed stand and unplugged the charger. Dead phone equaled no alarm which equated to late Doyoung. Similarly, you often apologized for mug shaped halfrings of coffee ending up on important papers, but that it really couldn’t be helped if he wanted you awake and functioning.

You were working on an email to an outside marketing affiliate when your office phone began to ring. You glanced from the brightness of your computer screen to the receiver. Getting calls to your office phone wasn’t unheard of, but it was pretty strange to see a call coming out of your office from the logistics extension.

Your body moved before your brain as your hand reached out and pulled the phone off the hook.

“Hello?” you noted belatedly that you didn’t answer with a your typical line of your name and department.

“Y/N?” It was Doyoung on the other end, but somehow you already knew that before you heard his voice.

“Hey,” you patted around your desk for a pen and a notebook, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, just--” Doyoung cut himself off short, and if you had known him better, you would have heard the hesitance in his voice, “I guess it’s nothing.”

A wave of worry washed over you and it felt oddly misplaced towards Doyoung.

“Well, you called for a reason,” your tone was easy and lighthearted, “I don’t bite. What’s going on?”

On the other end, Doyoung puffed out a breath of air, “Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t write anything on the files I sent down this morning. And I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want to do that anymore, ‘cause I noticed your returning file didn’t have a note either.”

“Oh,” was all you managed. Truth be told, you hadn’t even noticed.

It was quiet a beat before Doyoung cleared his throat, “I’m recognizing now that I could’ve just sent another note.”

You laughed at that, genuinely laughed, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. You ran a hand over your face and pressed the built up tension over your brow.

“Yeah, you-- you could have,” you said, reigning your giggles back under control, “But you know, we can talk on the phone, too.”

“Right, ah--,” Doyoung said, and you imagined he must be running his hand up the back of his neck, a nervous tick all of the boys in your department carried when they were flustered, “I suppose we can.”

You propped your chin on your hand, “You know, I used to talk on the phone all the time with the guy I worked with before you.”

“Really?,” Doyoung sounded genuinely surprised, “Who did you work with?”

“Yuta. I can’t believe you haven’t heard him babble on to Jaehyun. I couldn’t get through a call without him spoiling an entire season of some anime for me.”

Doyoung pushed out a breath through his nose, and this time you were sure you could identify it as a laugh. “I guess I should have expected that,” he said, and his voice was significantly less tight.

There was another stretch of silence, but it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable.

“Oh, right,” Doyoung finally said, clearing his throat, “There is something actually business related I could tell you.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“I was going to send back down that A45 form for the affiliate application, but I guess there were some mix-ups.” Under his breath, you were sure you could hear, “Apparently billionaires need to be coached on how to sign on a line. It’s marked with an X, Christ’s sake.”

You laughed at that, too, and this time Jaehyun looked over. You didn’t notice, but he looked generally confused about why you laughed twice in one phone call with Doyoung on the other end.

“Anyway, I’ll give them a call back and see if they can-- I don’t know, read or something. I’ll call you later if something comes up.”

You hung up the phone and smiled to yourself. It didn’t last long.

“What was that about, hm?” came Jaehyun’s voice, laced with some sort of suspicion he had cultured in that brain cage of his.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Business as usual.”

“Uh huh,” he said, swiveling back to face his computer. You didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. Something told you that this was not the end of said conversation.

You turned back to the email you had been working on, but it was hard to concentrate. You found yourself stalling after every line, but couldn’t quite place why. With slow hands, you finally typed out the rest of the letter and sent it without proofreading. Decisively, you opened the top drawer of your desk and pulled out your phone. You started a text to Yuta.

[14:03] Y/N: yutaaaaa

[14:04] prince: What’s up, sunshine?

[14:04] Y/N: dinner. after work. assistance

[14:07] prince: Is this in reference to the Doyoung phone call I just witnessed the other half of?

[14:08] Y/N: wHA T T HE FUCKY ES

[14:08] Y/N: oh my god youre psychic arent you ohmgyod how could you not tell me

[14:10] prince: I’ll be at your house with wine at five thirty.

[14:10] Y/N: answer my question you clairvoyant cuck

The end of the work day drug on, and fifty minutes felt like decades before you could run out of the office. You sped through as much traffic as you could before passive-aggressively tapping your nails against the steering wheel at no one in particular. Despite the obvious inconvenience, sitting in rush hour traffic out of the business district did pose a new predicament; more time to think about your seemingly small interaction with your colleague. There was something charming about the whole situation.You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but he genuinely seemed sweet-- rough start and all. You hadn’t wanted to care as much about the notes as you let yourself think you should. It was almost a relief to know he placed weight on those tiny records the same way you did; maybe even more.

By the time you pulled into your parking structure, your stomach was flipping anew. It was less about Doyoung and more about the inevitable teasing you were going to receive from Yuta. There was a thrill to it, though. You hadn’t seen Yuta in much too long for your liking. For how much the two of you used to talk, you both had admittedly gotten caught up in the new contract and your new partners. You missed his snide remarks in a way that Jaehyun would never understand the way you did. Childish, sure, but you had a loving sense of possessiveness over your coworker.

You pulled your bag out of the passenger seat and made your way through the parking garage. As you walked, you pulled a fastener folder out and flipped it open. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really. Demographics, charts, audience feedback. You flipped through them with something bordering on laziness as you climbed the stairs into your building.

Two sore legs and seven flights of stairs later, you arrived outside of your apartment door. You shoved the key into the metal door and pushed it open. Your dimly light studio apartment stared back at you. Your studio was L shaped, kitchen and living room as you walked in, and nook to left for your bed, dresser, and bathroom. You knew in the back of your head that you could move in at a nicer apartment, somewhere bigger and closer to work. But you liked this place. It was home to all the firsts you had out of high school. After landing the job at SM, you put down your down payment on this slice of urban block. You bought furniture, made your own meals, had adult sleepovers, all for the first time and on your own. Sure, the AC sucked sometimes, but that’s what top floor windows are for. And yeah, the large concrete tiles on the floor were freezing in the winter, but what else are you supposed to buy rugs for? You kicked off your shoes at the door and hung your coat on the rack.

No sooner had you dropped your bag and folder on the table as the door reverberated with a knock.There was a hustle in your step to open it.

The door swung open to reveal the smiling face of Yuta, in the flesh. He was holding a bottle of red wine and an attitude to match. You hugged and invited him in. The cold air from outside seemed to cling to him as you took his coat for him.

“How are you still in work clothes?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I barely beat you home,” you said, running your hand through your hair, “I swear to god you’re a super-person or something. Super speed.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is super-hero,” Yuta laughed as he looked through your cupboards for wine glasses.

You scoffed at that, “Hardly.”

“Hey!” he whipped around to throw you a pointed look, but you were already headed for your dresser, ducking behind the corner.

You changed into sweats and and a loose t-shirt before finding your way back to the kitchen island. There was already a well filled glass of wine waiting for you. You climbed into one of the bar stools, tucking your feet up under yourself, and taking your glass. Yuta was leaned over the opposite side of the island.

The corner of Yuta’s lip quirked upward, “Spill.”

A blush crept up through your face and you smiled besides yourself. You hid behind your glass and took a sip. You noted absently that Yuta had great taste in wine.

“Well,” you started, putting your glass down on the counter, “What do you already know?”

“That is a dangerous question,” he leaned impossibly closer, swirling his wine with one hand, “What don’t I know?”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, “There are times when your psychic act has very blurry edges.”

You took the time to give Yuta a rundown of the situation, despite his ~psychic comment~. You started from the beginning, your first day working with him and the unpleasant conversation; moved on to talking about the notes you passed, feeling reminiscent of a high-schooler again; ended on today, talking on the phone and it being… nice? You felt dumb talking about your feelings for some reason. It wasn’t because of Yuta; even though the two of you could joke, he took your feelings very seriously. It was more to the point that all of this had been in your head before. Up until that point, the entire thing was abstract and fluid. Once it was said out loud, it felt final.

Yuta was quiet when you spoke, only piping up after you were done. “Why is this a bad thing?”

“It’s… not?” you said, bordering on a question. You didn’t know what you said that made it seem that way.

“I’m just asking because you look troubled,” Yuta tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth before pouring both of you a fresh glass.

You were suddenly aware of the tension you held in your features, brows taught and mouth turned slightly downwards. You did what you could to relax.

“Have you dated since high school, Y/N?” There was nonchalance in his voice, but the question felt loaded.

“I--,” you paused, taken aback, “No. I haven’t, I guess I-- I haven’t had time to date.”

“I’m only asking,” Yuta circled the counter to sit next to you, “Because it sounds like you have a crush.”

You laughed at that, actually laughed, deep in your chest. For some reason, the idea of it seemed outrageous, actually insane. You hadn’t even thought about someone in a similar context since your senior year. Somewhere along the way, you found that attraction was akin to weakness. In your profession, it was in your favor to be romantically unavailable. Regardless of how bad it sounded, when you were pitching an advertising campaign to a room full of single sponsors, being notably single yourself could be considered an… asset, so to speak.

“I do not have a crush,” the words felt juvenile coming out of your mouth.

Yuta quirked his brow at that, and that was what sent you over the edge.

“Fuck. I have a crush.”

“My point exactly,” he took a deliberate sip off his wine.

“Oh god,” you groaned, sitting back into your seat, “What am I supposed to do?”

Yuta smiled into his glass, “Ask him out for drinks. I think the whole thing is cute. And he’s quite the looker, anyway.”

“Is he?” You asked, picking your head up.

“Uh. Yeah? You don’t think so?” He looked genuinely confused.

“Well, how would I know?” There was a lace of exasperation through your words.

Yuta blanked at you, “Because you have eyes?”

It occurred to you then that you hadn’t mentioned a vital point.

“We’ve never-- we’ve never met in person.”

There was a clear moment of processing on Yuta’s end. You recognized you probably should have fronted with that info. He tipped back the rest of his second glass before he finally spoke again.

“This makes things more interesting,” he paused, then, “Didn’t he introduce himself to all the departments on his first day?”

“I was out sick,” you smiled sheepishly. Yuta saw through it.

“Hungover,” there was a tone in his voice like he finally put all the pieces together.

You nodded. It seemed like the only thing to do.

“If it’s any help, he is nice to look at.”

A laugh bubbled out of your lips besides yourself. Yuta was good at that.

“I mean,” he started, “It isn’t like it’s hopeless. We all work in the same building.”

“Yeah, but what excuse do I have to walk up to your department? Isn’t that weird?” you asked, feeling particularly lost on what exactly to do. “I was hoping he would just be awful and I would never have to bother with going up to meet him, but now it’s been too long, hasn’t it? Weeks, Yuta, weeks!”

There was a sigh and roll of eyes from your old partner. He clearly was not enthused with the melodrama.

“It really isn--,” he cut himself short and you could practically hear the gears in his head start working in reverse.

See, in Yuta’s mind, he had finally found it. The man loved his drama in whatever form he could get it; animes, k-dramas, telenovelas. And now, by god, he had his own! Right in front of his very eyes! The generally accepted right answer would have been along the lines of ‘No, there is never a bad time to stop by and say hello, it is completely normal.’ However, the fun answer was closer along the lines of something to keep him entertained.

“--Isn’t the right time to introduce yourself, I guess. I mean, everyone is busy with this merger right now, anyway. It’s not like you can’t afterwards, though.” He sent a sympathetic look your way.

You threw your head back and groaned. Of course Yuta was right! You glanced across the counter at the thick file of take-home work you had to do this weekend and quickly landed on the fact that you did not need to be looking into romantic interests at that time. Everyone in the entire building was overloaded, not excluding the secretaries (which caused a mental not to take Donghyuck coffee on Monday).

You rolled your head back upright and checked the clock on your microwave. It was already seven thirty, and the late fall sun was already down.

“Are you hungry?” You decided to take a break from the Doyoung topic.

“Famished.”

“Pizza?”

“You read my mind.”

“Looks like you aren’t the only psychic around here,” you shot him a playful wink, “You planning on staying the night?”

Yuta stretched and checked his watch, “Only if you don’t mind.”

“Never,” you smiled at him. “You can change into some of my pajamas.”

He flashed a wolfish grin at you, “Lingerie?”

“If you’re so brave,” you laughed.

Yuta went off to change and you ordered the pizza. An hour and more wine later, the pizza had arrived and you and Yuta were both bundled up on your bed, halfway through Spirited Away playing on your laptop at the foot of the bed. He had not, in fact, rummaged through your delicates. He had emerged out of your bathroom in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that was decidedly more snug on his frame than yours. The situation was comfortable, crumbs in bed and all. You tipped your head on to his shoulder, and he leaned his temple against your crown. You archived the moment into reasons why you loved your friend.

On screen, No Face had begun luring the workers with gold. You quirked your head up slightly to look at Yuta, who was looking at something on his phone.

“How’s logistics been?” you asked quietly.

Yuta locked his phone and looked down at you, “It’s been busy. Jae’s a pain.”

“Preaching to the choir, Yuta. At least you get to hang up the phone.” You felt Yuta’s chest rumble against your side.

“No shit. I don’t know how I would have managed if I still had to babysit both of you.”

You scoffed. “You love me anyway.”

“On the good days.” You thumped his chest for that one. You were rewarded with a half-assed, mumbled apology.

“Doyoung is good,” you said, “Funny, too, the more I get to know him.”

Yuta made an amused noise, somewhere between a hum and a sigh. “I think he likes you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he adjusted his arm to rest over your shoulder instead of between you, “That conversation earlier today was pretty telling. Never see him smile on the phone more than he does with you.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, save for the noise of the movie.

“What does he look like?” you asked without thinking.

“Handsome,” he pulled the blankets closer to himself. “Even by my standards. Tall, too, maybe six foot? Good nose, strong jaw, pale skin. Really big eyes. Nice style. Great hair, too, almost better than mine. Wears glasses sometimes.”

“There’s an easier way of saying that,” Yuta looked down at you, confused. “You can say he’s out of my league.”

You received a slap on the arm for that.

It was starting to to hit that you were tired. The work week and the wine were catching up with you. You pulled the comforter up closer to your chin and turned tighter towards the warmth that was Yuta. Somehow you felt better and worse than you had when you left the office. Better, because at least you had someone who knew about the situation with you, but also worse, because you had a newfound crush and no plan of action. You tried to keep your stomach from turning with anxiety.

You woke up to the sun shining through your apartment and onto your face. From the kitchen, you could hear Yuta searching through your cabinets again. You pulled yourself upright and tried not to groan.

After passive-aggressively throwing the curtains closed you found your way to the kitchen. Yuta smiled at you and handed you a warm mug of coffee.

“Figured I’d make you some liquid energy before I head out,” He smiled, tapping his mug against yours.

You took a sip, “Off so soon?”

“I’ve got a hot date at noon, and I would like to look relatively presentable,” he winked at you.

“And I thought it was something I said,” you quipped back playfully. “But really, thanks for hearing me out about my dumb office drama. It means a lot.”

“Any time, you know that.”

“So who is this date with, anyway?”

If you hadn’t known him better, you would have missed the soft rosiness that nipped at the tips of his ears. “Too soon to tell you.”

You raised your eyebrow at that, “Trying to flesh him out first?”

“Don’t want to waste your time if he turns out to be a bust, that’s all.”

“Sure,” you humored him, pressing your knuckles to the mug to warm them.

He shot you a knowing look. You knew it wouldn’t be a bust, but you also knew Yuta loved his fairy-tales. You could handle that.

“I should get going,” he said after a moment. He placed his then empty mug in the sink. “Mind if I hold onto these clothes till I see you next?”

You waved him off, taking another sip off of your coffee. “I don’t care. Look better on you, anyway.”

He beamed at that, hitting some ridiculous pose. You both laughed and you helped him with his jacket. After a quick goodbye and a hug, he was out the door and gone.

Your apartment was quiet again, leaving you with the feeling you always got after you had guests around; loneliness. It wasn’t too often that you thought about it in detail, but something about that morning was different. You thought about what it would be like if after company left, you weren’t alone. If you always had someone there. To be clear, you never took your platonic interactions for granted. You never really wanted anything more out of them either, regardless of who it was. You didn’t know where you were going with your thoughts, but it was early and confusing. You finished the rest of your coffee in silence, looking out the window at the urban landscape.

Soon enough after, you decided it was time to get your Saturday-morning-self together. You took a longer shower than necessary, taking the time to look over yourself. Yuta’s description of Doyoung crept into your head and you found yourself looking at yourself, more carefully than usual. He seemed so perfect, the way your friend described him. You ran your hands up your sides and pulled at the skin on your hips. For the first time in a very long time, you were self conscious of your body, and you couldn’t place why. It wasn’t like anything had changed. Hell, Doyoung didn’t even know what you looked like. But, therein was the problem, wasn’t it? What if he didn’t like the way you looked? You dipped your head and rubbed at the tension in your shoulders. You were getting way ahead of yourself. You barely knew him.

You stepped out of the shower and put on clothes, simple. Jeans, an old shirt. It didn’t matter what you looked like, you were working from home. You poured yourself another cup of coffee and picked your laptop off the foot of the bed. The file from yesterday was still on the island in the kitchen, so that’s where you decided to set up camp.

As you were waiting for your laptop to boot up, you pulled the file closer to yourself. The paperwork was still there, too much work for two days. You looked over the reports again. You flipped to the final spreadsheet and a paper behind it shifted, one you hadn’t seen before. You squinted at it like it was an intruder. With careful hands, you pulled the new paper out from the folder. Of all things, you hadn’t expected this.

In your hands was a flyer to the company holiday party. ‘SM Entertainment Annual Holiday Party.’ You had known the party was happening. It was the talk of the entire building for the whole season of fall; Ten wouldn’t shut up about it, and Jaehyun had already asked you to color coordinate with him. The party and the flyer were not the surprising things. The sticky note with clean, familiar handwriting that was attached to it was.

Y/N,

Are you going? My old building

never hosted parties like this. It

would be nice to see a familiar

face there. Or voice, I suppose.

-DY

You stared at the note for a long moment. This? This changed things.

#nct #nct imagines #nct fic #doyoung fic #doyoung #office!au #crossed wires #nakamoto yuta #fic #imagines