#namjin college au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

effortandmore · 1 year

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the restitution coefficient | ksj x knj (18+)

summary: seokjin has everything going for him. he was one of the youngest people to make VP at his company, at the top of his class in college, is a bit of a racquet sport savant, an excellent cook, and good-looking. like, really good looking. according to people other than his mother, thank you very much. so, when things around him start to crumble because of one stubborn and annoyingly attractive client, he finds himself looking for vindication in a place he's sure he can’t be beat—the annual office ping pong tournament.

pairing: seokjin x namjoon

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: office/co-worker au, enemies (seokjin thinks so, anyway) to lovers, smut, fluff, minor angst

warnings: smut, swearing, mentions of alcohol, seokjin is bad at communicating, bad puns (at least i make myself laugh). here are the specific smut tags: kissing, oral sex, they're soft and annoying and seokjin talks too much

word count: 15.6k

a/n: hello! if you know anything about me, you know i love namjin v much, so here is my first namjin fic. it's my contribution to the Catch of the Century collab to celebrate jin's birthday. i had fun writing it, i hope you have fun reading it. thank you so much to @ugh-yoongi and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me—and to @hot-soop for the banner! you're all so lovely and i am grateful. you can read this on ao3 if like me, you prefer it for reading

There is a Kim Seokjin who still feels, most days, like a nervous kid. This Seokjin wears his coziest hoodies on the weekends and plays video games until his eyes burn and sometimes forgets to eat and shower. He is an introvert, he is insecure sometimes, he is just trying his best.

But there is also a Kim Seokjin who thinks, “never let them see you sweat,” who is quick to a one-liner, and who has, for his whole life, been faking it until he makes it. And, he supposes, by most accounts, he has made it (for better or worse).

For this version of him, there’s no question that Seokjin is the best. It's an indisputable fact, on par with universally known truths like gravity and… Well, he can’t think of too many more right this moment, but suffice it to say that his (put-on) superiority is well-known within his circle of friends, around the office, probably to passers by on the street, even.

He was the youngest person to make VP at his company (except for his boss, Min Yoongi), at the top of his class in college, is a bit of a racquet sport savant, an excellent cook, and good-looking. Like, really good looking. According to people other than his mother, thank you very much.

But her, too. Obviously.

And this is true for all the different versions of him: it’s all come relatively easy. Sure, he works hard sometimes—he studied in school, he has a diligent skincare routine, he devotes weekends to the gym and to his gaming hobby, he takes tennis lessons and plays table tennis nearly every day. So, it’s not like things have just been handed to him. Maybe they’ve been made easier because of his looks, a little natural aptitude, a lot of charisma… (And the ability to convince himself and everyone around him that he’s doing great). It’s just that even when he’s had to try, he hasn’t had to try that hard. He’s never struggled, not really. This persona he puts on, it works for him. It’s helped him get more than he ever thought he deserved.

And as anyone would, he likes it this way.

And he really doesn’t like it when things don’t come as easily as he’s used to.

Because that makes him feel like the other Seokjin, the one he doesn’t really want anyone else to see and who he doesn’t want to see reflected at him when he looks in the mirror.

It’s the feeling of things not clicking for him that has him down in the basement of the tall, gray office building he works in, grunting and sweating, frustration coming out of him by way of a series of steady thwacking sounds.

“You’re scaring me a little today,” Jungkook pants, face flushed. They’ve been at it for over thirty minutes and Seokjin’s usually done by now, ready to flash a brilliant grin, straighten his tie, and ride the elevator back up to his office to close another deal.

“Just—thwack… so—thwack… annoying—thwack…” Seokjin isn’t in the same shape as Jungkook. He’s leaner, less muscle, but has a little more stamina for cardio like this. He wouldn’t dare challenge the other man to a lifting contest, but at this, he’s sure he can win.

He always wins.

Jungkook sighs when he misses his next shot just wide of the blue table. Seokjin can’t help the satisfied smile spreading across his face when he wins again, just like he does every day. He makes sure to wait until Jungkook’s paying attention before he throws his arms up in victory and shouts something unintelligible about being the greatest of all time. This win is exactly what he needed today.

“Congratulations,” Jungkook says, softly as always, which is a little funny because Seokjin knows he’s a confident kid; good at his work, strong, attractive, smart (reminds Seokjin a little of himself, if he’s being honest). “Another ping pong victory must feel good.”

Coming from anyone else, it might have come across as sarcastic, but not from Jungkook. He’s almost always earnest. Seokjin can’t relate; he moves through the world by keeping anything too honest tucked deep down inside. But he envies his coworker for it a little (and will never, ever admit that out loud).

“It does,” he says, unrolling the sleeves of his button-down. “Even though it’s called table tennis. How many times do we have to go over this?” And then more to himself than his companion, “I needed that.” It’s as transparent as he cares to be.

“Do you want to talk about the deal?”

Seokjin scoffs. “No. It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure it gets sorted out.”

And he means it. He will. He’s Kim Seokjin—he always wins. Maybe this one will just take a bit longer than it should have.

The deal is big. It’s really big; that’s why he’s involved in the first place. Usually he’s overseeing things these days; it’s a perk of being the VP of sales. He assigns his team to deals; doesn’t take the lead on them anymore. Jungkook, with his wide eyes and easy smile, is one of his best sales directors and gets most of the large contracts assigned to him. But this one was too important, so Seokjin took the client on himself, confident he could close in the first quarter.

Except it’s about four in the afternoon on 31 March, and he hasn’t closed the deal. He won’t today. For the first time in recent memory, Kim Seokjin needs to admit defeat. Which is why he really needed to at least win that fucking table tennis game.

When the elevator doors open on the top floor of the office tower, he’s sure he’s got everything under control. He’ll march into Yoongi’s office with all the quarterly sales numbers and explain that while yes, this deal was Very Important, certainly closing it in the second quarter won’t be a problem—his team has met their goals for the first quarter. In fact, it’s possible that Seokjin is really doing the company a favor by postponing this deal… It will help to pad April’s figures, which is usually a slow time for new contracts.

Yes, he thinks, this is all plausible, reasonable. Foolproof.

The smug smile on his face withers, however, when he passes Yoongi’s office on the way to his own and sees the CEO of the company already has a visitor. His assistant clears his throat, just loud enough to get Seokjin’s attention. “Yoongi-ssi asked to see you in his office when your meeting with Jungkook was done.” And then he adds in a hushed tone, “I think you’re in trouble.”

Taehyung smirks when he says it and it’s enough to sap all of the remaining joy out of Seokjin’s body. Why does he keep such a shithead assistant around, anyway? He’s the Kim Seokjin—he doesn’t deserve to be mocked by someone who works for him.

“You’re in trouble,” he retorts, immediately regretting it. It’s weak and he knows it. He’s too distracted to come up with anything better, though, so before Taehyung can give him another smartass comment in return, he continues. “Who’s in there with him?”

Taehyung just shrugs. “Some client, I think. You could ask Jimin if you really want to know. But they’re waiting for you.”

“You know,” Jin says as he straightens his tie and starts walking toward his boss’ office, “he’d hate knowing you called him Yoongi-ssi.” Yoongi tends to be casual with them in the office, which always throws Seokjin off a little—he prefers to draw boundaries between work and his personal life.

“Ooh…” And Jin can almost hear the smirk on Taehyung’s lips. “What do you think he does to bad boys?”

“You’re disgusting,” Jin calls over his shoulder.

His assistant lets out a giggle and Jin rolls his eyes even though he’s trying not to laugh, too. He’ll never let Yoongi’s assistant, Jimin, see him smiling as he passes toward Yoongi’s office. He’d have to admit how much he loves Taehyung. Not going to happen.

Observing through Yoongi’s floor-to-ceiling glass walls, Seokjin is sure that his assistant is wrong about the man in there with his boss. Because Seokjin would remember this client. He can only see the back of the man’s body, but it’s enough of a look to know that it’s a figure Seokjin would have committed to memory if he’d ever been fortunate enough to encounter it in person. The man is broad across the shoulders (but not as broad as Jin) and his honey brown hair skims across his neck in a manner that’s meant to look haphazard, but probably cost as much as one’s of Jin’s own haircuts. Or more.

Maybe it’s that the man is less gifted when it comes to his facial features and that’s why Jin doesn’t remember.

He knocks on Yoongi’s door with a couple quick raps and then pushes it open and steps in. He should bow, probably, he should say something, but he sees the client’s face and he is… uncharacteristically speechless. There is nothing wrong with the client’s face. Except that it’s pretty close to fucking perfect. The man stands, and oh… he’s tall. Big. Big everywhere, Jin thinks.

The perfect man, which is what he is now known as in Jin’s mind, reaches his hands out and gives a wide, dimpled grin.

It takes all of Jin’s years of practice in presenting a careful image for him to smile back professionally—although he’s pretty sure he’s the color of a tomato, and about to just say “dimples” instead of anything coherent.

“Seokjin-ssi, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Kim Namjoon!”

And, oh… That is… a problem.

“Kim Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

And god, he’s being rude, he realizes. He shoves his hands forward mechanically and shakes the actually-not-perfect man’s hands and bows his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Namjoon-ssi.” Because Namjoon is a client. He is the client; the one who won’t close this fucking deal with Seokjin—the one who is causing him to lose beauty sleep and eat hotteok outside of his cheat days and has possibly caused not one, but two stress pimples to appear on Jin’s face in the last month. The client he’s only ever spoken to exclusively on the phone because he doesn’t know how to use his webcam. He’s the single most infuriating person Jin has never met. Until now. When they are meeting. And Kim Namjoon is unfortunately gorgeous and tall and apparently nice even though Jin wants to shake him by the shoulders and start begging for him to sign the contract already.

“Have a seat, Jin,” Yoongi says in a calm voice that Jin very much wishes did not have the undercurrent of amusement in it that it most definitely does.

So, he sits next to Namjoon and gathers himself for whatever it is that’s happening here. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Namjoon is still smiling, and Jin can’t decide if that means he’s not about to be fired in front of their most important potential client or that Namjoon is taking pleasure in the fact that Jin is about to be fired in front of him.

“You’re not in trouble,” Yoongi says, mercifully.

Seokjin lets out a high-pitched, nervous cackle, snaps his mouth shut immediately after, regrets most of his life choices, and then swallows any dignity he has remaining and nods. It’s a long three seconds. “Of course not. Thank you for the reassurance.”

A few more mildly torturous seconds pass where no one speaks, and Seokjin starts to sweat like he’s in the middle of another table tennis game with Jungkook. It’s not quite his worst nightmare, but having his most difficult client sitting less than a meter away from him on the day he failed to close the biggest deal his company’s had in the pipeline in a long time comes… pretty close to the top of the list.

“So…” he starts, hoping he sounds slightly more composed than he feels inside, “What brings you here Namjoon-ssi?”

Kim Namjoon straightens up in his chair before leaning unfortunately closer to Seokjin. He looks positively pleased to be in Yoongi’s office, dimples more prominent than when Seokjin walked into the office and eyes bright. “Well, first, I should apologize.”

It isn’t at all what Seokjin expected to hear and he doesn’t hate it, but it certainly seems like it’s going to be followed by a second thing that he strongly suspects he may not like quite as much.

“Not at all,” Seokjin replies, although there’s a small (large) part of him that does think his client should apologize for being so difficult to work with (and a little bit for not knowing how to use a webcam).

“I know working with my company hasn’t been the easiest for you,” Namjoon continues. And fuck, he’s got this bashful sort of grin he gives like he’s embarrassed and contrite and so fucking handsome Seokjin might forget to breathe a little bit. And forget to respond. When he stops staring at his client, he sees Yoongi watching him expectantly with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Seokjin finally says. It comes out in a bit of a rush as he waves a hand in polite dismissal. “You’ve been a pleasure to work with.” He hates the words as they come out of his mouth, because he’s a lot of things, but he’s not really a liar. Not like this. Kim Namjoon has been a complete pain in his ass to work with. To reiterate: he can’t use a webcam. And that’s not all! He asks for the most minute changes to every single document Seokjin and his team provide. He takes forever to make the smallest of decisions and then proceeds to change his mind about them quite literally hundreds of times before he finally settles.

“I’m glad you think so,” Yoongi chimes in, “because you and Namjoon-ssi are going to be working together much more closely for a while.”

Seokjin looks between Yoongi and Namjoon waiting for more explanation. He’s not sure how he could possibly work more closely with Namjoon. This project has been his entire life for months. He has been eating, sleeping, and breathing this deal and the only thing that takes up more of his time than closing the deal lately is wondering why a grown adult who is the Vice President of Operations for a fairly large company can’t use Zoom.

He chokes down every pained, sarcastic comment couched in a joke he might want to make and gives his most winning smile to his boss. “That sounds great,” he says. He’s almost sure it doesn’t sound like he wants to cry.

But he does want to cry. Especially when Namjoon beams in his direction and nods, excited like a retriever. “I think so, too, Seokjin-ssi! I’m looking forward to this so much.”

Swallowing the large lump that’s forming in his throat, he smiles back. “So, so great…” he mutters. “So… exciting.”

***

Over the weekend, he sort of has time to process the drastic turn his work life is about to take. Kim Namjoon, Vice President of Operations for one of the country’s most prominent seed and soil companies, is coming to work out of his office. Not the building, mind you, but Seokjin’s very own perfectly-curated-to-his-own-tastes-and-not-big-enough-to-share office.

It’s enough to make his face break out with a third pimple.

Yoongi and Namjoon had dreamt up some ridiculous theory that Namjoon’s boss, the CEO of the seed and soil company, might be willing to sign the deal with just a few more adjustments to the contract and a well-constructed pitch video. Namjoon says he wants the software that Seokjin has to offer, says he knows it will streamline work for his front-line employees, but his boss is apparently… particular. Hard to please.

Theoretically, it should make him feel better that Namjoon claims to have not actually been the blocker to getting this deal signed. He says he’s nothing more than a middle-man; trying to convince his boss that Seokjin’s software will be a win for them. Theoretically, he should have laughed when Namjoon said he’d been spending the last few months “planting the seed” about how helpful the software would be with his boss. Seokjin loves puns. But loves them most when he’s the one making them; loves them a little bit less when they’re delivered by his nemesis and then immediately followed with a bashful grin and two impossible to ignore dimples.

As he gets ready for work on Monday morning, he still can’t laugh at Namjoon’s bad joke, and he doesn’t feel better about having to share his space. He feels inadequate and annoyed (and he knows at least Yoongi will be able to read it on his face—probably Jungkook and Taehyung, too. This makes him vulnerable, like a gazelle in a Richard Attenborough narration. He can’t think of anything worse) and he hates those feelings almost as much as he hates the circumstances.

It doesn’t help that it’s one of those mornings where nothing is going his way. He did get that third pimple over the weekend (and a fourth if anyone’s counting—Jimin will be), and he accidentally squirted concealer all over his bathroom mirror when he was trying to cover up said pimples. He must’ve made his coffee in too much of a rush because there are grounds in it, and he missed his first alarm so he’s now forced to drink the sludgy coffee because he would have had to sacrifice his skincare routine in order to make a new pot, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that with the rough state of his chin.

After missing his usual train, he dashes through the wet, gray morning streets to the office from the later train. He spends the jog hoping he beats Taehyung there, because the last thing he’s in the mood for is taking shit from his own assistant for being late. It’s far more entertaining to be the shit-giver, and Taehyung and Jimin are easy targets—both usually late on Mondays, conspicuously arriving together with one of them in the same clothes they wore on Friday.

It’s not his lucky day.

“Hyung is late!” he hears a sing-song voice call as he emerges from the elevator. So many things are wrong with this scenario, the first being that Tae knows he’s not supposed to call Seokjin his hyung when their other coworkers can hear, and the second that Tae and Jimin are sitting atop Taehyung’s desk, pointedly not working and looking a little too pleased for a Monday morning in their bleak office building.

“What’s got you two so enthused?” he asks, setting his bag down by Tae’s desk, ignoring the use of the informal honorific, and adjusting his running-tousled necktie.

“It’s moving day!” Jimin replies cheerily, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of Seokjin and Yoongi’s offices.

“I don’t see what there is to be excited about,” Seokjin mutters. Namjoon is in Yoongi’s office, gesturing enthusiastically as Yoongi watches him with that familiar half-amused grin on his face.

Taehyung reaches up and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Now, hyung, maybe this will be good for you. Help you loosen up.” He’s giving Seokjin a shit-eating grin when he adds, “I hear he’s really good at ping pong, too.”

Seokjin definitely should have scolded him for the hyung thing the first time.

Instead, he grabs his bag and takes a step back from the two assistants. “Table tennis. And don’t you have work to do?” he tells more than asks as he heads past them to his office.

“Try and have an open mind, hyung!” Jimin calls as Seokjin shuts the door.

Kids these days are so disrespectful.

In his office, another desk has been added. It’s not yet full with paperwork and photographs like Seokjin’s desk is, and he wonders for a moment if Namjoon will even bother. It’s not like he’s here permanently; there’s really no reason for him to get attached to the space. To Seokjin’s space.

There’s not much time to think about it before the door swings open. No one just comes in without knocking except Taehyung, so Seokjin doesn’t even look up from his screen before saying, “You need to knock it off with the hyung stuff when we’re in the office, you know?”

And Taehyung is generally unpredictable in his replies, but silence is never an option he indulges in, so when there’s no response, Seokjin knows something is wrong.

“Tae?”

He hears a throat clearing in response and just from the tone of the sound, he knows it’s not his assistant.

“Seokjin-ssi?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

“If by ‘you,’ you mean Namjoon, then yeah. It’s me. Do you think you could give me a hand?”

Namjoon is in the doorway to the office with a large box in his arms. Seokjin knows the box is large because Namjoon is large, one of the facts he’d managed to retain from their first in-person encounter, and the box conceals most of the upper-half of Namjoon’s body. All Seokjin can see above the box are his behind his glasses, and the stupid, stupid dimples on display.

He realizes that he hasn’t actually responded to Namjoon yet, a moment past when it turns awkward. Oops.

“Sure, what can I do?” he asks, standing from his desk.

“If you could just grab Ponyo, that would be great. Thanks Seokjin-ssi.”

“Ponyo?”

Namjoon gestures with his chin to the glass bowl stacked carefully atop the box he’s holding. “Ponyo. My fish.”

“Clever,” Jin says as he grabs the fishbowl.

“Ah, not really. But thank you. She’s a good companion, doesn’t talk back. And I’ve had her for a long time.”

“So you like the strong, silent type?”

When Seokjin looks up, Namjoon is staring back at him, wide-eyed, and he could swear there’s the hint of a flush on his cheeks. “Not exactly,” Namjoon mutters as he turns and sets the box down on his new desk.

“It was a joke, Namjoon-ssi.”

“Right. Of course.” Namjoon straightens his tie and won’t make eye contact. “Well, thank you for your help. I’ll leave you alone now. Well… not really alone. But…”

It’s going to be a long few weeks, Seokjin decides. He may not be Namjoon’s biggest fan, but it would be better for both of them if it wasn’t this awkward the whole time they’re sharing an office. So he extends an olive branch. “I’m going down to get some coffee. Would you like anything?”

Namjoon brightens immediately. “Thank you, Seokjin-ssi. Iced americano, please,” he says as he starts to pull his wallet out.

“My treat,” Seokjin replies, waving him off. “A ‘welcome’ gift, I guess.”

Namjoon smiles again—wide and really very pretty, Seokjin admits to himself reluctantly—as he gives a quick, shallow bow.

He’s so polite. Infuriating.

Seokjin can’t explain why getting out of his own office feels so much like a relief. This is the first time he’s found so much solace in an elevator ride. So far, Namjoon’s really not at all what Seokjin had made him out to be after months of tedious back and forth. But it’s best to exercise caution in these situations, he thinks. You never know when people are waiting for you to show your vulnerable side. And it’s only been five minutes of Namjoon being polite compared to months of him being the most difficult client Seokjin had ever had.

“Good morning, Seokjinnie!”

Seokjin assesses the lobby of the building quickly, making sure no one he knows heard the nickname. What’s with people not just using his name today, anyway?

“Morning, Hobi.”

“The usual, hyung?”

Hobi is a saint in a man’s body, this is something Seokjin knows for sure. He used to work in the office on the software development team, and about a year ago decided that the money wasn’t worth it. Seokjin envies him if he’s being honest, walking away from security in exchange for a chance at happiness isn’t a risk he’s ever been willing to take. But it worked for Hobi; he owns the small cafe in the lobby of the office building, and he does well for himself without working the grueling hours that he used to—the hours that Seokjin still works. Supplying all the office lackeys their daily caffeine dose suits Hobi, too, even if he does get flustered when the line is longer than one person.

If Seokjin was really interested in the highest quality drinks, he’d go a block down the street to the hipster shop where all the baristas are hot, but dicks. What Hobi provides is a different kind of comfort. He’s everyone’s friend—even someone sort of closed off like Seokjin can’t help but open up a bit to him. They’ve known each other for a few years now, and while he’s not sure he can call anyone his best friend, Hobi is pretty close. Countless movie nights and talks over chicken and beer have sort of cemented that.

Seokjin nods. “The usual and a large iced americano, too.”

Hobi pauses and lifts an eyebrow over his ridiculous glasses with yellow lenses.

“For the new guy,” Seokjin explains. “Just this once.”

“Oh! For Namjoonie! I should have known.” Hobi gives Seokjin a smirk and sets about making the drinks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

As soon as the question comes out of his mouth, he knows it shouldn’t have. It’s inevitable that he’ll regret asking.

“Nothing,” Hobi says, “he’s just… you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” Seokjin replies automatically, then realizes he sounds a little dreamy. “I mean… he’s fine. It’s polite to do something nice for the new guy. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything, obviously.” He’s definitely rambling now, and he can feel the tips of his ears turning pink. “It’s just coffee. And he’s a client,” he adds in spite of himself.

How the fuck does Hobi always do this? It’s a waste that he owns this coffee shop. He should be a fucking Interpol agent or something.

“Mmhmm.” It’s obvious Hobi sees right through him. Of course he does.

“He’s mostly insufferable,” Seokjin continues, trying to act nonchalant. “How do you know him, anyway?”

“Oh, Jinnie… I know all the cute boys in the building.” Hobi sets two drinks down on the counter next to the espresso machine. “Anything else on your mind?”

“I have to share my office with him.” This comes out of his mouth as a full-blown whine, far more plaintive than he’d meant to be out loud.

Hobi just laughs. “I heard. Well, should be interesting, at least.”

Grabbing the drinks, Seokjin pouts. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Movie night this week?”

“Yeah, but I get to pick this time.”

Hobi grins as Seokjin turns to head back to the elevator and his office. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

***

It is very bad.

The first day is fine. Namjoon is quiet (mostly), he puts his things away and organizes his desk while Seokjin works. They make polite conversation at appropriate intervals and Namjoon leaves promptly at five in the evening. Probably a husband or wife to get home to, Seokjin decides.

On the second day, Namjoon arrives at the office first, and there’s a steaming flat white waiting on Seokjin’s desk for him. It’s a little surprising, but appreciated, and Namjoon gives a trademark shy smile when Seokjin thanks him. It’s infuriatingly cute.

Then Wednesday happens. Wednesday is table tennis day. Everyone in the office knows that. It’s when he and Jungkook head down to the basement before lunch for their “Wednesday sales meeting” and Seokjin proceeds to destroy him for an hour before buying him lunch.

So, on the third day, Seokjin heads to the elevator just before eleven in the morning. Namjoon’s been gone for a while, said he had a meeting earlier, so he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone when he heads out. But Jungkook isn’t by the elevator waiting like he usually is. Maybe he’s taking some initiative, Seokjin thinks as he steps into the lift. When he gets to the basement, he loosens his tie as the elevator door opens and stops dead in his tracks after he turns the corner. Because Jungkook has taken some initiative. He’s in the middle of what looks to be a contentious match already.

With Kim Namjoon.

“What’s going on down here?” He means to keep his cool, for it to come out as a question. But it’s more of a squawk. Mortifying.

“Oh!” Namjoon is breathing heavily and his eyes widen when he notices Seokjin. This, in turn, makes Seokjin finally notice that instead of just rolling up the sleeves of his shirt like a civilized person, Namjoon has removed his shirt, leaving him in only a white undershirt. A tight, white undershirt that moves with his arms and his chest when he moves and is unfortunately quite devastating. Seokjin is definitely staring, which he only realizes when Namjoon begins to speak again. “Seokjin-ssi! Jungkook was just showing me the ropes. He mentioned you two play and that there’s an office tournament in a few weeks.” He pauses and breaks out his stupid, dimpled smile, because of course he does. “I just love ping pong,” he says brightly.

“Yeah, hyung. Namjoon-ssi loves ping pong. Just like you!”

Seokjin turns to face Jungkook, who seems to have forgotten that he is Seokjin’s employee.

“I think it’s so nice everyone here is so close,” Namjoon says earnestly before Seokjin can remind Jungkook that they’re in the office and that he is Jungkook’s boss. “You can call me hyung, too, Jungkook-ah. If you want. I feel like we’re becoming friends already.”

This draws a snort of disbelief out of Seokjin, and a starry-eyed, nervous smile from Jungkook. “Hyung…” Jungkook whispers, seemingly to himself, trying out the word. Then he nods enthusiastically. “I’d like that, thanks, hyung!”

“It’s called table tennis,” Seokjin interrupts. “Table tennis, not ping pong. And on Wednesdays, Jungkook and I play.” The words come out in a rush as he rolls his sleeves up and moves to stand next to Namjoon. It’s not that he means to be challenging, but this is his day.

“Don’t tell me you wear pink, too.”

Seokjin just glares (even though under normal circumstances, he would probably laugh). This is his table, his basement, his office, his Jungkook.

Namjoon backs down quickly. “I didn’t mean to overstep,” he says politely, handing his paddle over.

“You didn’t!” Jungkook chimes in. “I had fun playing with you, hyung.”

“Me too, Jungkook-ah, thank you!” Namjoon starts to put his shirt back on and Seokjin hates that he feels conflicted about it.

“You can stay, if you want,” Seokjin offers in a moment of pectoral-induced weakness. “You know, to get some pointers.”

“Namjoon hyung doesn’t need pointers! He beat me twice already. But I was about to come back, I swear.” There isn’t even an attempt on Jungkook’s part to disguise his adoration.

It’s disgusting.

“I can always improve,” Namjoon chimes in as he sits on the old folding chair they’d dragged down from a supply closet. “Plus, it would be nice to get to know you both better.”

Jungkook flushes and Seokjin rolls his eyes. This guy just cannot be for real.

When they play, Namjoon calls out encouragement to both of them in between scrolling his phone. Something on there must be interesting because his thumbs are flying pretty frequently. It’s unfortunate that Seokjin notices this, because it means that he’s not paying as much attention to the game as he should be.

The unthinkable happens.

Jungkook lets out a loud whoop and Namjoon claps enthusiastically from his chair. “Good job, Jungkook-ah!”

Seokjin loses table tennis that day. As he stands on his side, motionless in disbelief, he can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of sign.

“I have to go,” he mutters under his breath, not even bothering to roll his sleeves back down or straighten his tie before he gets on the elevator.

Wednesday makes one thing clear: Kim Namjoon is going to be a problem.

Over the following weeks, things continue to get worse.

First, Namjoon buys their lunch. On the surface, this is fine. Nice, even. A gesture that most people would appreciate. Especially considering that Seokjin has… maintained a professional distance between them to say the least. They barely talk after the table tennis incident, and when they do, it’s entirely about work. Namjoon, to his credit, tries, but Seokjin isn’t really sure why. It’s obvious he was trying to prove something in that basement.

Things go downhill when, after lunch, Seokjin begins to feel itchy. Really itchy. Itchy all over like poison ivy or nettle stings. The sort of itchy that’s also warm and makes you feel like your skin is just some sort of scratchy wool sweater that your grandmother won’t let you take off because you look “cute.” He tries splashing water on his face and hands, but it just keeps getting worse. It’s almost like… it’s almost like an allergy.

“Kim Namjoon!”

Namjoon whips his head up from his computer when his name is shrieked into the office.

“Is everything okay, Seokjin-ssi? You look flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

“Garlic!”

His officemate just stares at him blankly, clearly unwilling to admit to his sabotage.

“You put garlic in my lunch!”

“Uh… I mean… I didn’t make the lunch, but there could have been garlic in there, yes?” He phrases it as a question. Still playing dumb, apparently.

“I can’t believe this,” Seokjin complains. “Look at me!” He sticks his arms out, pink from the scratching and probably also from the rash that’s taking over his entire body as he speaks. “I can’t work like this.”

“I think I’m missing something…” Namjoon says softly.

“Sure,” Seokjin says. “You didn’t know I was allergic to garlic.” He rolls his eyes. “Did Taehyung put you up to this? Jungkook? Is this some sort of joke you’re all in on? You think this is funny, Namjoon-ssi?”

Namjoon’s brow lifts. “You’re allergic to garlic?”

Seokjin scoffs as he snatches up his suit jacket, and his laptop. He types out a quick message to Yoongi on his phone letting him know he’ll need the rest of the day off to recover from the horrible prank that’s been played on him.

“First table tennis, now this,” he says on his way out. “I hope you’re happy!”

Before he shuts the door—definitely not a slam, even though he really, really wants to for the dramatic effect—he thinks he hears Namjoon mutter, “I’m mostly just confused…”

Needless to say, their progress on the pitch video for Namjoon’s boss is slow. Seokjin miraculously recovers from the garlic incident, which everyone swears was not a prank, but Taehyung and Jimin do nothing to ease his suspicion when they snicker while he interrogates them. It wasn’t even a good prank, because all it does is set them behind schedule. Well, it does, and the arguing.

For the pitch, they’re supposed to be working together on supplemental materials, but they just can’t seem to seem to see eye to eye. Namjoon wants everything spelled out—so much detail, so many… words. It’s not Seokjin’s style. He’s better with visuals—charts and interactive videos and talking his clients through them. It’s proven. It’s gotten him this far. Namjoon’s not a marketer, not a salesperson. He’s a… Well, Seokjin isn’t quite sure what Namjoon is. But Seokjin is definitely a sales guy. The best sales guy. So to have this seed-man arguing with him (politely, of course, and it’s maddening) about how to properly make a pitch video is absurd.

In the end, they agree to make two separate videos and let Yoongi choose which one to hand over to Namjoon’s Board of Directors.

Namjoon looks a little confused when Seokjin offers Jungkook’s assistance. “Are you sure?” he asks, “Jungkook-ah is your best, you don’t have to do that.”

“Well, you need someone who knows how to operate a video camera, don’t you?”

Namjoon nods dumbly, like he’s still confused, but accepts the help. Good, Seokjin thinks. He wants this to be a fair fight. It’ll be more satisfying that way when he wipes the floor with them.

One day a week or so later, Seokjin shows up to the office, and he’s optimistic. He and Taehyung have been making good progress on his work for the seed company and Namjoon’s been gone with Jungkook a lot working on his own. They haven’t had to interact much, and it’s been good for Seokjin’s focus. It’s curious, though, that Namjoon remains friendly when they do see each other. It has Seokjin on edge, like the other shoe will drop any moment.

When he walks into his office, it’s clear that the shoe has indeed dropped.

“What in the…”

Plants. Plants everywhere. This was supposed to be a good day.

Namjoon’s head pops up from behind his desk, which is covered in small pots. So are the windowsills, all the empty spaces on the bookshelves, parts of the floor, and Seokjin’s own desk.

“Good morning, Seokjin-ssi!”

“Plants,” he says. He’s having a hard time wrapping his head around what he’s seeing.

“Seed starts,” Namjoon agrees. He sounds… proud. “They’re from my personal collection, but I thought they would work for the video Jungkook and I are making.”

“Your personal collection?” Seokjin finally stops scanning the room to look at the other man. “These are yours?”

Namjoon lets out a soft laugh. “Yep. Well, they’re only part of my collection. I was worried there wouldn’t be enough… Actually, do you think I should bring more? Jimin and Taehyung said more might be better. This is only a third of what I have on my balcony… Hobi seemed to think it would be enough, though, when I asked him…”

Seokjin isn’t sure if Namjoon is speaking to him anymore, or to himself.

There are a hundred questions floating through his head about what exactly is happening in his office, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask because the door opens and Yoongi peeks his head in.

“Looks like you two are getting along,” he notes, scanning the room.

Namjoon looks to Seokjin, and it’s clear he doesn’t know how to answer, that he’s waiting for Seokjin to respond.

It’s not like he can tell his boss that their client is actively trying to sabotage him. Not in front of Namjoon, anyway. There’s no other option than to lie through his teeth. “We’re doing great,” he says, and plasters on a giant (fake) smile. He feels a little off-kilter because when he says it, Namjoon positively beams. But he has to know it’s not true—he’s the one causing all these problems, anyway.

“Good, good…” Yoongi murmurs. “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Just wanted to check in on your progress. Only about a week until we need to deliver the pitch. We’re on track, I’m assuming?”

They both nod in agreement, but neither of them makes eye contact with Yoongi. Namjoon’s staring at Seokjin and Seokjin is staring at the dozens of five centimeter paper pots covering his desk. On track is one way to put it, he thinks.

Yoongi hums his approval and backs out of the doorframe, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“I have to go,” Seokjin says curtly.

“Oh… Is something wrong?”

Seokjin thinks if he lifts his eyebrows any higher, they’ll take flight. And he’ll get wrinkles. Which is unacceptable. “Is something wrong?” he repeats back to Namjoon.

“You sound upset.”

“Oh. Of course not. Of course I’m not upset that my whole office is being taken over by a table tennis prodigy who spreads manure pots everywhere and steals my friends and gives me garlic poisoning and thinks he can do my job better than me!” His voice rises higher and higher as he goes on and he knows his whole face is flushing down to his chest. Namjoon starts to protest, but Seokjin cuts him off. “No. I’m leaving. You can have the office—Taehyung and I can work from the conference room. Congratulations, Namjoon-ssi. You win today.”

He tries to ignore the fact that Namjoon looks thoroughly confused and, if he’s not mistaken, more than a little bit hurt.

On top of everything, he’s a good actor, Seokjin thinks.

Of course.

This point is proven when later that day, Seokjin begrudgingly realizes he needs some paperwork out of his office. He really doesn’t want to give Namjoon the satisfaction of… well, of anything, but he needs those papers, so he heads back to his office. When he opens the door, Namjoon is at his desk, surrounded by his annoying plants, talking to someone. It’s weird, because Seokjin doesn’t see a phone in his hand or earbuds in… Maybe Namjoon is talking to himself.

Then he hears another voice. Tinny, like it’s coming through… a computer speaker?

Namjoon notices Seokjin and freezes. Caught. Caught on a video call. Which he told Seokjin he “never did.” Told Seokjin he thought his “webcam must be broken.”

Kim Namjoon is a snake and a liar and Seokjin doesn’t even care anymore that he’s got pecs and dimples and really nice thighs—his slacks look stupid anyway hugging his thighs like that—it’s inappropriate. No one this shady is attractive. Not even people who look like Namjoon.

Seokjin storms out of his own office and straight to the elevator.

“Seokkkkkkjinnnnie!”

All he can muster in response is a grumble. Even for Hobi.

“I hate him.”

Hobi, infuriatingly, just laughs. “The usual?”

“Yes, please.” Seokjin paces in front of the counter while Hobi makes his drink. “He’s a liar,” he whines, “and he filled our office with plants.”

“Not plants!” Hobi gasps, showing the appropriate amount of shock at the distressing news, but then when Seokjin looks over at him, he’s laughing again.

So much for friendship.

“It’s the last straw,” he says as he takes his drink from the counter. A large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. One of his favorites. “First there was having to share an office, then the fact that he took over my Wednesdays with Jungkook. Then the garlic, and the terrible ideas he kept pitching, and now the plants…” He pauses to lick whipped cream off of his top lip. “And he lied about the webcam, Hobi. He knows how to use the webcam!”

Hobi looks at him above the rim of his glasses. The look is more stern than the ones he usually gives. It’s the same one Seokjin gets when he’s being obnoxious about a video game or when he doesn’t let Jungkook have the last piece of chicken.

“What?” Seokjin asks flatly.

“Nothing.” Hobi raises his hands defensively and shakes his head.

“Just say it, Hobi.”

His friend pauses his work wiping down the milk steamer and tilts his head before he speaks. “I know you see things one way, but have you considered that there might be another side to all this?”

“No.” He’s sure he’s pouting now, but is it so much to ask for Hobi just to agree with him?

“He’s a nice guy, Jinnie. He thinks you hate him.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I think you should give him a chance. Maybe there’s an explanation for all of this, you know. You could just… try.”

“Hmmph.”

“We’re going out on Sunday. He’s coming. You should come, too.”

Seokjin’s eyes fly open in disbelief. “You’re hanging out with my archenemy? On a school night?”

“Don’t be dramatic. And yeah, we all are. Jungkookie, Taehyung, Jiminie, and me. We’re taking him out. It’s hard to be the new guy, Jinnie.”

Seokjin scoffs. “Yah, especially when you’re a saboteur.”

“Stop that.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll switch you to decaf.”

“This is hot chocolate, Hobi.”

“That’s what you think!”

Seokjin can’t help but smile. “Fine. I’ll give him one chance. But I don’t like it.”

Hobi smiles broadly. “Good. I knew you’d come around.”

Seokjin waves him off and crosses the lobby back to the elevator. “Just make a note for the history books that I’m being the bigger person here!”

“Sure will.” He can hear Hobi laughing at him even when the elevator door closes.

***

They make it through the rest of the work week with no “Namjoonings” as Seokjin has started calling them in his head. Namjoon rearranges the office to get almost all of the seedlings out, apologizing for causing Seokjin any inconvenience and bringing him an “I’m sorry” bonsai. When Seokjin says he barely remembers to give himself water, Namjoon just grins and promises to help care for the delicate tree himself. It’s kind of sweet.

On Wednesday, he even gets Jungkook to himself for the first time in weeks. Without Namjoon watching them play, it’s much easier to focus, and Seokjin wins table tennis that day. All three times they play.

He and Taehyung wrap up their pitch video on Friday, final edits made, adjustments inked in the contract, and he delivers everything to Yoongi for review feeling good. Of course, he’s curious about what Jungkook and Namjoon have delivered, but he feels good enough about his own pitch that he’s not letting it bother him. He’s the expert, and he taught Jungkook almost everything he knows, so he feels confident that even if Jungkook and Namjoon did a good job, Seokjin did better.

It’s the best couple of days he’s had at work in weeks.

Sunday night, he finds himself still in a good mood, crowded into a karaoke room with his best friends, a beer in hand and one Kim Namjoon sitting next to him, fidgeting with his sleeve nervously.

He’s different outside of the office, and Seokjin notices it right away. Namjoon is clearly uncomfortable with him, and it’s strange, even to Seokjin, that if Namjoon had been trying to ruin his career this whole time, that he would feel nervous around his victim. So that, combined with the apology plant and the daily drinks he’s found on his desk with cute doodles drawn on them make Seokjin think that it’s possible Hobi has a point with his whole “two sides to every story” thing.

Maybe.

Taehyung and Jimin are in the middle of a passionate duet of “I Got You, Babe,” when Seokjin decides he could, under the influence of two beers, be bothered to at least try and clear the air.

“Namjoon-ssi?”

Namjoon practically chokes on his beer. “Oh! Uh… me? Yeah?” He looks surprised that Seokjin is even speaking to him. It’s pretty cute. It’s the first time Seokjin has seen him outside of the office, and he looks like a different person. Even more attractive, which Seokjin resents. He’s got shorts on, (no one should have legs like his—it’s rude) paired with expensive sneakers and a soft-looking, oversized hoodie. His hair is apparently freshly washed, and it’s fluffy under the hood he’s had pulled up most of the night. He looks cozy. As someone who’s practically always cold, Seokjin likes it when people look cozy, when they look like they could wrap him up and keep him warm… Even his enemies. Or, alleged enemies.

“I thought… Well, Hobi thinks we should talk things out.” As cute as Namjoon is, and maybe because he looks so cute, Seokjin can’t bring himself to look the other man in the eye.

Namjoon smiles. “Hobi thinks?”

“Maybeiagreeitwouldntbesobadforustotalk.” God, he’s a mess. The words just tumble out. Why is he nervous about this?

“Yeah, I think that would be good, too.” Namjoon removes his hood and leans in closer to Seokjin—it’s loud and so it makes sense that if they’re going to talk he wants to hear a little better, but the proximity is making Seokjin a little woozy. He even smells good. It’s devastating.

He clears his throat. “Well, it’s come to my attention that I may have made some assumptions… And that it’s possible that you didn’t actually try to give me garlic poisoning on purpose.”

At that, Namjoon comes very close to spitting beer out in laughter, a hoodie-covered hand flying up to contain it.

“Yah, it’s not funny, Namjoon-ssi!”

“Sorry!” Namjoon wipes his mouth and then gives Seokjin a very serious look. “I would never, ever try to intentionally give you garlic poisoning. I had no idea you were allergic. I swear.”

“You promise?”

“I swear,” he repeats. He doesn’t look like he’s lying, but Seokjin’s been fooled by him before. Probably been fooled.

“Okay… What about Jungkook? Why are you turning him against me?”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide. Wider than wide. “I really… I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

“What does that mean?”

“Jungkook is crazy about you! When we play ping pong, he’s always talking about ‘sunbaenim’ this and ‘Seokjin hyung’ that. It’s overwhelming sometimes.” Namjoon looks across the room to where Jungkook and Hobi are laughing with each other. “When we made our video, he kept saying things like, ‘Seokjin sunbaenim would want it like this.’ He never shuts up about you. I could never replace you, Seokjin-ssi.”

“Oh…”

“I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea about me or my intentions here.” Namjoon’s looking at him earnestly, tilting his own head down to try and meet Seokjin’s gaze, which has settled somewhere on the floor. “I respect you, I’ve always liked working with you, and I’d like it if someday, we could be friends, too.”

“Friends,” Seokjin mumbles, trying to think about what Namjoon’s been saying.

“You know, friends. Like where one of us doesn’t hate the other?”

And that’s it for Seokjin, because Namjoon looks hesitant and cautious and soft and cozy and not at all like the villain Seokjin’s made him up to be in his head. “That could be arranged, I think.”

Namjoon’s dimples make their first real appearance of the night. “Yeah?”

“But you need to teach Ponyo some manners.”

“Huh?”

“She’s always chewing with her mouth open.” Seokjin hollows his cheeks and does his best fish impression, which results in Namjoon doubling over in laughter, his hand flying out to Seokjin’s knee to steady himself. Because Namjoon is his client, technically, he tries really hard to ignore the immediate flush he feels at the contact.

“You’re funny, Seokjin-ssi,” he says as he catches his breath.

“Hyung. Seokjin hyung. Outside of the office, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

Seokjin nods and gives his attention to the singing, trying not to show how pleased he is that Namjoon is pleased, but when he glances back out of the corner of his eye, he can’t help but feel something funny in his stomach at the sight of the dopey grin Namjoon is giving him from behind his beer bottle.

Even he can admit that, this one time, Hobi was right.

He probably drinks too many beers that night. He’s not drunk drunk, but he’s warm and flushed and even giggling when they stumble out of the noraebang a couple hours after his newly forged friendship with Namjoon takes root. They divide into taxis, everyone calling it a night fairly early so they can show up to work in the morning without having to be on the receiving end of Yoongi’s “what the fuck were you thinking?” face.

Somehow, as he watches Jimin and Taehyung pile into a taxi, then Hobi and Jungkook, it doesn’t occur to him that he’s left with Namjoon until he feels a hand on his shoulder and hears, “Hyung, want to share?”

He thinks his brain must leave his body for a moment, because without even thinking about it, he replies, “Want to come over? One more beer?”

There’s almost immediate regret when Namjoon doesn’t answer. Seokjin can’t even bring himself to turn his head to look at the man standing next to him. He’s sure he’s crossed some sort of line—a line he’d probably been the one to draw in the first place.

He barely hears Namjoon’s answer. “Yeah, okay. One more drink.”

It’s a surprise to say the least. But a good one. Seokjin takes a couple of deep breaths and lets himself sneak a glance at Namjoon. Those damn dimples are back. But instead of being annoying, Seokjin thinks they’re beautiful. Something about how happy Namjoon looks tilts Seokjin’s world on his axis. Just momentarily, anyway. Then he remembers that they’re barely friends and he’s been objectively horrible to this man for weeks—this man who is technically his client. As they get into the taxi to go back to his apartment together, he takes more deep breaths and tells himself to get it together—this is just what friends do.

Seokjin keeps a tidy apartment, so there’s no apologizing for the mess or explaining himself. If anything, it’s sparse, because he spends so much time at work and rarely entertains at his own place, except for movie nights with Hobi.

It should be weird to have Namjoon there, but what’s weird is that it’s not at all. Namjoon slides his shoes off, settles in the living room and doesn’t waste any time asking Seokjin to talk more about himself, to tell him about the friends and family members in the photos around his apartment. He’s a good conversationalist—he asks interesting questions and laughs at Seokjin’s bad jokes and really listens when Seokjin speaks, making a lot of eye contact and nodding along at all the right places.

And he’s funny, too. Self-deprecating a little, but it makes Seokjin more comfortable around him, like he doesn’t take himself too seriously. Seokjin learns a lot about Namjoon while they both drink another beer—he has a younger sister, he loves plants in a way that wasn’t already apparent (sings to them and names them and it’s just about the most endearing thing Seokjin has ever heard in his life), he “dabbles in poetry,” likes to go to museums, and claims to only make friends with people who can cook, because he’s a self-proclaimed disaster in the kitchen. More than one of his stories of near-catastrophe has Seokjin in a riot of laughter, and it’s not long before Seokjin is wondering how he’d let himself miss out on this person for so long.

They talk until neither of them is doing a good job of keeping their eyes open, and he doesn’t think twice about offering his spare bedroom when Namjoon says he should probably get home. It’s late, they’re both tipsy, he reasons. Tells Namjoon to just set his alarm a little early to go home and change before work. They have their pitch meeting with Yoongi at 9am, so it’s not like either of them needs to be there early, anyway. “Unless you have someone waiting for you at home,” he tacks on.

Namjoon ducks his head and grins. “No, no one at home. Just the plants and me. But are you sure, hyung?”

He shouldn’t feel the small bit of giddiness he does upon hearing that Namjoon is single. “Yah, it’s nothing. Bathroom’s on the right, guest room is just past it. Sheets are clean and there’s a spare toothbrush for you. Let me find you something to wear.”

He shuffles to his own room and digs around for something that will fit Namjoon. He’s taller and bigger, but Seokjin has broad shoulders and wears baggy clothes around the house most of the time, anyway. He finds an old black t-shirt and some joggers and gives them to Namjoon, who is impossibly even cuter when he’s sleepy. Seokjin needs to get to bed before he says something he shouldn’t like, “can I touch your hair?” or “want to cuddle? Your chest looks comfy,” (It does) or “can I please kiss you?”

It’s confusing, the way he feels. His whole idea of this man has been flipped upside-down in the course of a day.

“Hyung?” Namjoon’s eyeing him curiously, one side of his mouth turned up in a soft smile.

“Sorry… Spaced out. Need anything else?” He swallows down the weird sensation he feels in his chest and smiles at Namjoon.

“No, I’m all good. See you tomorrow. Thanks again. I had a lot of fun talking with you.”

“Goodnight, Namjoon-ah.”

“Goodnight, hyung.”

Sleep. He’ll feel better once he gets some sleep, he tells himself.

***

In reality, what ends up happening is that Seokjin feels much, much worse.

It’s possible he had more to drink than he thought. He wakes up in the morning to sunlight, and this is the first bad omen. Bad because he should have been up before the sun came up if he wanted to be to work on time, and Namjoon should have been up even earlier.

Namjoon. Shit.

Seokjin rolls out of bed, his headache hitting him almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, as he pulls a shirt on and grabs his phone. Things go from bad to worse almost immediately. It’s 8:45 am and he is late. Late, late. Completely screwed late. Late for the most important meeting he’s had at work in months. The only solace is that if he’s late, then Namjoon is late, too. He scurries down the hall to the guest room, only hesitating for a second before throwing the door open. There’s no time for modesty, he thinks, they have to get moving.

“Namjoon-ah!”

But his call is into an empty room. Namjoon is gone, and the clothes he borrowed the night before are folded up neatly on the end of Seokjin’s guest bed.

Fuck.

By the time he’s on the subway (still so, so late), he finally has time to think about the situation. And he’s mad. Really, underneath that, he thinks he might be hurt that this man who he wanted to kiss so badly the night before is really trying to screw him over. And for no reason that he can think of. He let his guard down with Namjoon for one night, and this is what happens. It was probably Namjoon’s plan all along: get Seokjin drunk, decide not to wake him up, let him show up late to the meeting so that Yoongi will have no choice but to choose Namjoon’s ideas.

He’s so stupid for letting this happen. He knew Namjoon was bad news. He should have never listened to Hobi. All the good-looking ones are evil. Except him, of course.

“Morning, Jinnie!” Hobi calls brightly as Seokjin dashes through the lobby.

“No time, Hobi. I have a seed-man to take down.”

It’s probably the fastest he’s ever made it from his bed to the office. Of course, he knows he’s made some sacrifices in order to get there sooner—he hasn’t moisturized, his tie is crooked, and he’s sure his socks don’t match—but it’s all going to be worth it when he gets there and can plead his case to Yoongi.

When he gets off the elevator on his floor, he sees Yoongi alone in his office, no Namjoon. This is good. Maybe they rescheduled the meeting. It’s only 9:20, there’s no way they’re already done. He sprints across the floor, pausing briefly at Yoongi’s door to catch his breath, and then he knocks and pushes the door open a crack.

“Yoongi-ssi?”

“Oh, you decided to show up.”

He’s about to launch into an apology-slash-explanation when Yoongi speaks again, holding his hand up to gesture for Seokjin to be quiet. “I don’t want to know. I know you all went out last night, Namjoon told me.”

Kim Namjoon, Seokjin is now one hundred percent sure, is a rat.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin says, bowing slightly. “It won’t happen again.”

Yoongi laughs. “It probably will, just don’t make it a habit.”

“Of course.” There’s a pause where neither of them speak after that. Seokjin decides to just go for it. “So, about the meeting…”

“We had the meeting.”

“You had the meeting?”

“Namjoon and I met at nine.”

He wants to be mad, and he is with Namjoon. Not with Yoongi for having the meeting at the scheduled time.

“Oh, I see.”

“I’ve made a decision, and I’ll submit everything to the Board today for their Wednesday meeting.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” He wants to cry. Seokjin closes the door to Yoongi’s office and makes his way to the bathroom as quickly as he can. There’s no way he’s going to cry out in the open where anyone could see.

Years and years of hard work down the toilet because of one night of karaoke. Because of Kim Namjoon being a rat who didn’t wake him up. He can feel the pressure building in his head, worse than the hangover headache he woke up with. There’s nothing he can think of worse than failure, and now he’s failed in the biggest way. His dongsaeng and his client beating him at the one thing he’s always been the best at. It’s the worst feeling. Like he’s let Yoongi down… Like he’s let himself down.

He leans against the counter and fights the tears back. He’s Kim Seokjin. He doesn’t cry at work. The door to the bathroom swings open while he’s splashing cold water on his face. He didn’t bother with concealer that morning, so there’s nothing to mess up with the water.

“Seokjin-ssi?”

Of fucking course.

“Namjoon, I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh. I uh… Just wanted to see if you were alright. I was worried when you didn’t come to the meeting this morning.”

Seokjin laughs, loud and bitter. “Sure you were.”

Namjoon stands in the doorway, a surprised look on his face. “I was, yeah.”

“You don’t have to lie anymore, Namjoon. You win. Yoongi told me everything was decided. Congratulations. I don’t know why it was so important to you to do this to me, but I hope you’re happy.”

Namjoon’s voice is soft when he speaks, and he takes a cautious step closer to Seokjin. “You have to believe me when I tell you I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t have to believe anything you say, actually.”

“I’m not sure why you’re upset with me, hyung.”

Seokjin stands up straight. “Hyung rights revoked, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to laugh. Insulting. Seokjin pushes past him out the bathroom door. “Seokjin-ssi, wait, please.”

Seokjin does not wait. He strides to Yoongi’s office (Namjoon two steps behind), tells him he needs a personal day, and gets on the elevator to go back down. He’s done with Namjoon, done with this office, and done with being a fool.

He makes it home without any fanfare and sleeps most of the day. When he wakes up to make himself some food that evening, he sees chat messages from Hobi and Taehyung, asking if he’s okay. They offer to bring soup in case he’s not feeling well and both ask for him to let them know if he’s alright. He ignores them. Instead, he leaves Yoongi a voicemail, telling him he’s taking the next day off as well, stomach bug.

It’s not far off from the truth—he feels awful. Prickly and queasy and bad all over. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Namjoon standing in his living room, looking soft and innocent and kissable and happy and he hates it. It’s the feeling of insecurity he’s tried to battle his whole life, now creeping back in. He shouldn’t have let himself think a pretty boy with nice dimples and a couple of good jokes really wanted to be his friend—maybe even wanted something more.

There were a couple moments, like when Namjoon shuffled closer in the karaoke room, or when he laughed at every single one of Seokjin’s worst jokes, that Seokjin thought there might be a spark there. That maybe Namjoon’s chest felt like it was full of firecrackers when they made eye contact, too.

He feels like a fool.

He ignores his friends that night and all the next day, plays video games until his thumbs hurt, and calls his mother. By the time Tuesday night comes, he’s feeling a little better, a little more capable of putting his protective shell back on and showing up at the office. Plus, the next day is the annual table tennis tournament, and Seokjin never misses that. It was his idea to begin with, and he wins every year.

Kim Namjoon may have won the pitch competition, but he’ll never beat Seokjin on the blue table.

That night, he tells himself reaffirming statements in bed: he’s smart, he’s talented, he’s attractive, he’s Kim Seokjin and he can do anything. He only believes approximately half of it, but figures the more he repeats it, the closer it gets to true.

He sets no fewer than eight alarms for Wednesday morning. In the interest of showing everyone that he is, in fact, not to be fucked with, he wakes up extra early and makes sure his hair and face are both perfect. He puts on his nicest suit and packs his lucky table tennis clothes—a navy blue and white Fila outfit that he’s never lost tennis, squash, or table tennis in. He makes himself an Ediya latte and adds a little extra sugar. He deserves it.

Because it’s a big day, he packs a lunch instead of relying on cafeteria food or a pastry from Hobi’s shop. He needs the nutrition. He hasn’t seen the tournament bracket yet, but he’s sure he’ll be playing Jungkook, who will keep him on his toes.

At the office, everyone regards him carefully. He expects to have to ignore Namjoon in their shared office, but when he enters, Namjoon is nowhere to be found. Ponyo mouths at him from Namjoon’s desk—she’s always watching. When he asks Taehyung about it, casually of course, Tae just points to one of the conference rooms. There’s a “do not disturb — call in progress” sign tacked to the door.

So the first half of the day is quiet. He doesn’t see Namjoon, but he does notice his name listed in the tournament bracket that’s been posted in the lunchroom. He’s on the opposite side from Seokjin, which means they wouldn’t play until the final, and Seokjin’s pretty confident Namjoon won’t make it that far, anyway.

Part of him wonders if he’s going to hear back from Yoongi about the deal with Namjoon’s company today. Their board meeting is happening, and they should be making a decision about whether to give Yoongi and Seokjin their business. It would obviously be a huge relief, even if Jungkook is now entitled to a large chunk of the commission. Money doesn’t really matter, because being done with the deal means Namjoon will go back to his own office, and Seokjin will be rid of him. It should be a weight off of his shoulders, and he shrugs off the small voice in his head that doesn’t want to go back to not seeing Namjoon every day.

Well, he thinks sarcastically, maybe he will see Namjoon now that he’s miraculously discovered how to use a webcam. Asshole.

After he eats lunch, he changes into his workout clothes and heads down to the basement. It’s finally his time to shine.

The elevator is crowded, and he has to ignore the looks he gets from workers who get on at other floors. No one looks better than him in a track jacket, anyway, they’re probably just jealous.

Or, that’s what he thinks until he makes it to the basement and sees Namjoon. Dressed in a familiar outfit. Familiar because it looks exactly like Seokjin’s.

The universe is a cruel place.

Once again, his stomach is a muddled mess of horny rage. No one should look that good with a sweatband on. No one that terrible should look that good, period.

He falls into conversation with Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook, who collectively look like they should be on the cover of some high-fashion sports magazine. He’s not sure he’s ever seen so much lycra in one place. Jimin gives him a wry smile when he notices that Seokjin is looking. “Like what you see?” he teases.

“Just surprised you think you can play in that,” he retorts.

“Oh, we can play,” Taehuyng chimes in with a greasy wink. It’s made worse by the fact that he can’t see where Taehyung’s hands are. No doubt attached to Jimin’s body somewhere. They’re disgusting.

“You don’t have to be that gross,” Seokjin whines.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I really think they do.”

Hobi, their official tournament referee, blows an obnoxious whistle, getting everyone’s attention. Well, almost everyone. Out of the corner of his eye, Seokjin sees Namjoon staring at him. He can’t tell what kind of look is on the other man’s face. Probably smug. Which is fine, for now. Seokjin will have fun wiping any smugness right off his pretty face later.

The first match is easy, some guy in IT who looks like he’s never stepped out from behind his computer in his life. Then he beats Jimin in the second round and observes that Namjoon seems to make it easily through his first two rounds, as well.

In the quarterfinals, Seokjin has to fight a little harder to beat Taehyung, usually an easy win made more challenging when he notices Namjoon watching from the other side of the room. If he’s not wrong, it even looks like Namjoon is cheering for him?

Probably another one of his tricks.

Seokjin has to face Jungkook in the semifinals, and on the other side, it’s Namjoon and Yoongi. Yoongi is objectively bad at this, but he’s competitive, and he’s also the boss of most of the people currently in the basement, so no one ever wants to play him. Seems like Namjoon is this year’s sacrificial lamb, on the receiving end of Yoongi’s shouts and cheating accusations when he loses point after point. Good.

Jungkook has learned a lot since he started at the office. He’s gotten better at sales and a hell of a lot better at table tennis. He’s beat Seokjin before, and they both know he can do it again. But sometime in the second match of three, it’s almost like he gives up.

“Yah, put up a fight, will you?”

“I have a cramp, hyung.” Jungkook bends down to rub at his calf dramatically, and if Seokjin is suspicious, he pushes it out of his mind and takes the “cramp” as a gift. He easily beats Jungkook to take the best two of three and make it to the final.

The final against Namjoon.

He takes some time to adjust his wristbands and drink some water before the match starts. Namjoon seems to be keeping his distance, but every time Seokjin looks over at him, he’s looking right back. He looks sad, almost. Finally, with a minute or so left until their match time, Namjoon approaches him.

“Seokjin-ssi… hi.”

Seokjin looks him up and down with his best competitive glare. He absolutely does not let his gaze pause on the muscles in Namjoon’s thighs. “Well, maybe we can settle some things today, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon furrows his brow. “I still don’t think I understand why you’re mad at me.” Then he whispers, “I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Does it really matter?” Seokjin adjusts his own sweatband and rolls his shoulders back. He steps past Namjoon and toward the table before Namjoon can reply. Faintly, Seokjin hears him say something. It sounds an awful lot like, “It matters to me.”

But he won’t let his guard down this time.

Except he does.

The first game goes fine; he cruises to an 11 to 6 victory easily. Something happens in the second game, though. Jungkook is talking to Namjoon between points, and it starts out fine, and then he asks if Namjoon really has to leave the office to go back to his actual job, to which Namjoon replies, “I’ll never leaf you, Jungkook-ah.”

It’s stupid. And it’s hilarious. Plant puns from the seed-man.

Seokjin misses his shot as he tries not to laugh. Namjoon notices that he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, and this causes a triumphant, deeply-dimpled smile to appear on his face.

“You like plant puns, Seokjin-ssi?” he asks as he serves the ball.

“No,” Seokjin lies.

“What did the cactus say to the other cactus?”

“No idea,” he grunts out as he returns a surprisingly good shot from Namjoon.

“You’re looking sharp.” Namjoon delivers the punchline with a killer backhand, and Seokjin misses the ball again.

“I hate you and your stupid jokes,” Seokjin announces. Even if he doesn’t hate them at all. In fact, he’s struggling to hate Namjoon, too. It’s actually the worst.

“But I’m just pollen your leg,” Namjoon riffs.

Seokjin misses another shot as Taehyung and Jimin fall into a pile of laughter on the floor next to the table. Even Yoongi is giving a snort.

“You’re all the worst!” Seokjin shouts as he sets his paddle down. He’s lost the game to Namjoon. 9 to 11. So embarrassing. “Hobi, can we institute a ‘no puns at the table’ rule for the final game?”

“No,” Hobi says, his tone light. “This is way too entertaining.”

“Fine.”

He’s so annoyed, he’s practically shaking. Kim Namjoon with his dumb jokes winning everyone over while Seokjin just suffers. It’s unfair, it’s enraging, it’s… well, it’s actually really cute, too, which just makes him more angry. Why does his nemesis have to be funny and attractive?

What’s apparent, as the third game begins, is that being mad is not helping his game. Neither is having to look at Namjoon’s face across the table. He could swear Namjoon’s mocking him every time he smiles.

How dare he.

Thinking about it just gets Seokjin more worked up, and he misses more shots. Then thinking about missing shots causes him to miss even more shots. He’s barely hanging on until he’s not actually hanging on at all, and shouts from Jungkook announce Namjoon’s victory.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Kim Seokjin is officially a loser.

It doesn’t sink in right away. Not until Namjoon says, with convincing sincerity, “Wow! I can’t believe I won the ping pong tournament…”

“You did it, hyung!” Jungkook is clearly excited. Traitor. “You won ping pong!”

And something in Seokjin snaps.

“It’s called table tennis, you assholes!”

He shouts it, and everyone in the room freezes.

He would be embarrassed if he thought about it, but instead, all he can think about are all the things that have gone wrong for him over the past few weeks, all tied back to Kim Namjoon.

Before anyone can move, he stomps to the elevator and slams his fingers into the buttons repeatedly until the car finally makes it to the basement and the doors slide open. It’s overwhelmingly silent in the room as he leaves—and if Taehyung and Jimin are quiet, he knows he’s probably crossed a line. He just doesn’t care. When he steps onto the elevator, he keeps his back to everyone until the door closes. When he’s finally alone, he slumps against the wall and sighs.

He’s probably going to need to find a new job.

Back in his office, he’s packing some things into his bag, hoping to avoid the rest of them. He figures if he can sneak out in the next few minutes, maybe take the stairs down, he’ll miss them all making their way back up to the office.

Of course, he figures wrong.

The door to his office opens carefully, and he can see a flop of brown hair appear in the crack.

Against his better judgment, he says, “You can come in, Namjoon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No is what he means, though. But he’s tired. It’s exhausting to fight all the time. He doesn’t have it in him anymore, he’s pretty sure.

Namjoon slips into the office and pulls the door closed, leaning back against it. “Can we talk?” he asks.

“Talk if you want.” Seokjin crosses his arms and waits.

“The board approved the deal today,” Namjoon says. He looks happy. His eyes are bright and hopeful. “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

To rub it in, no doubt. Namjoon is such a jerk.

“Congratulations to you and Jungkook, then.” It comes out pretty harsh, but he figures it won’t really matter anyway.

“Huh?”

“Your pitch, it worked. Congrats.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I think you’ve got some things wrong, Seokjin-ssi.”

At that, Seokjin huffs. “I’ve got some things wrong? Me?” He steps closer to Namjoon. “I think you’ve got some things wrong thinking you can some in here and lie about not knowing how to use a webcam,” he sticks a crooked finger out and points at Namjoon’s chest, “and fill my office with plants to drive me out and almost kill me with garlic and purposely make me late to that pitch meeting and think you can get away with it because you’re funny and smart and hot!”

Seokjin is practically in his face now, but instead of backing down, Namjoon grabs his finger. “You think I’m funny and smart and hot?”

“Not the point!”

“You want to know why I lied about video calls?”

“No.”

“Because I looked you up on Naver and saw your picture when we first started emailing. Because I couldn’t even talk to you on the phone without blushing. Because you are the most attractive person I’ve ever seen and I was nervous, hyung. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it together if I had to look at you while we talked.” Namjoon gives Seokjin’s finger a squeeze. “I know it’s not appropriate, and I’m your client… So I never said anything.”

Seokjin squeaks. Honest to god squeaks. It’s such a far departure from what he expected Namjoon to say, he doesn’t even have a good response.

“And as for the garlic, I think we’ve already covered that. And the meeting? Hyung, I tried to wake you up when I left, but you yelled at me to stop being ungrateful and then you rolled over and started snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” Seokjin says weakly.

“Okay, sure.” Namjoon gives him an affectionate smile. “I thought you must have had your alarm set. I didn’t know that you didn’t.”

“Oh…”

“And the pitch we sent the board was yours.”

Seokjin finally snaps to attention at that. “What?”

“It was the best one. I watched them with Yoongi and told him to send yours. So you got the deal done, hyung. It was all you.”

“You really did that?”

Namjoon nods. This is all… a lot to process.

Maybe Seokjin was… not exactly right about Namjoon’s intentions.

“And you think I’m the most attractive person you’ve ever seen?”

The almost giggle Namjoon lets out is the cutest thing Seokjin has ever seen, so maybe they’re even. “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re the worst,” Seokjin says, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

“Mmhmm. I’m the worst, but I’m technically officially your client, so you have to be nice to me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.”

And it occurs to Seokjin that instead of wiping the smug grin off Namjoon’s face, he wants to kiss it off. So with very little consideration to what that might mean for his career, he leans in to do just that.

Except Namjoon beats him to it.

And thank god, he is way better at kissing than he is at sales pitches. He’s careful with Seokjin, lips moving cautiously. It’s sweet and soft and Seokjin hears himself sigh into the kiss as it deepens, as Namjoon drops Seokjin’s finger, and moves to hold his jaw instead. He takes the lead, tilting Seokjin’s head just so to deepen the kiss, and then smiling when he pulls away to catch his breath and sees Seokjin chasing his lips.

“Was that nice enough?” Seokjin teases when he finally gets a hold of the thoughts spinning around his head.

“Mmhmm… Very nice. Wanted to kiss you since the first time we met…” Namjoon barely finishes his dreamy, murmured response before he’s pulling Seokjin back in, connecting their lips again. It’s possible that Seokjin has wanted this more than he’d been admitting to himself, because he’s almost sure he’s too eager, licking along Namjoon’s plush and perfect bottom lip in hopes he’ll find space to change the kiss from sweet to heated. It’s probably only been seconds, but he’s already impatient, wanting more, more, more.

They kiss and kiss and kiss with Namjoon pressed up against the office door… The office door. Seokjin pulls away abruptly. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Namjoon looks like almost every possible emotion passes over his breathless face as he registers what Seokjin’s just said. He lands on something like disappointment. “Oh… I must have…”

“No, no! You didn’t. But…” Seokjin leans over to his side to peer out of the glass, “We shouldn’t do this here. Everyone will be back any minute.”

A strong arm wraps around his waist, and he’s tugged into Namjoon’s chest before he knows what’s happening. (And he was right, for what it’s worth. It’s very comfy, even though it’s shaking with Namjoon’s gentle laughter).

“What’s funny? I’m going to get fired,” Seokjin whispers into Namjoon’s shirt.

“I think if you were going to get fired, it would have been when you called everyone in the office ‘assholes’,” Namjoon says gently.

“Hmm… Points are being made.”

“Plus, Yoongi sent everyone home.”

Seokjin looks up. “He did?”

“Yeah… He thought it might be best after… You know.”

“Me.”

“More or less,” Namjoon agrees.

Seokjin groans into Namjoon’s collarbones. “That was embarrassing,” he whines.

Namjoon hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his head up. He’s giving Seokjin a completely enamored smile, and Seokjin’s almost sure he’s been on the receiving end of that look before, but he’s just now recognizing it for what it is. “I thought it was cute,” Namjoon whispers.

“Cute? Hah! You’re a liar, Kim Namjoon.”

“I’m not,” Namjoon says, still grinning when he leans down to place another delicate kiss on Seokjin’s lips.

“I don’t deserve this…”

“No, you really don’t,” Namjoon readily agrees. “You’re lucky I like you a little mean.”

“Oh?” Seokjin feels his ears turn red at the insinuation.

Namjoon kisses him again and then nods. “I just really like you, hyung. You’re passionate, funny, and really good at table tennis.” He’s smiling now, teasing a little, but it feels really nice to hear someone say those things, especially someone who seems like he really means them.

“Of course you do,” Seokjin teases. It’s one of his nervous tics, joking to take the pressure off, to turn the attention to something else. But when he does it this time, he realizes he doesn’t want to brush this off or make a joke out of it. “I really like you too, Namjoon-ah.”

“Good.” And Namjoon’s breath is warm against the shell of his ear when the word is whispered into his skin. It makes Seokjin’s whole body tingle. It’s not helping that Namjoon’s hands are wandering, fingertips pressing into his waist, sliding along the bottom of his shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Seokjin nods, and he’s immediately manhandled so that he’s the one backed up into the door, Namjoon looking him up and down, then leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses up over his jaw and down his neck.

“So pretty, hyung,” he whispers between kisses. “Want to see more of you.” Namjoon slips his hands beneath his jacket, playing at the sensitive skin above his waistband.

“Here?” Seokjin is a little breathless, a little surprised. The Kim Seokjin who likes to be the best (and who works very hard every day to make sure that’s always the case) would never do this in the office, never take the risk… “Yeah, okay,” he agrees.

Maybe it’s time to be a new version of himself.

He’s quickly shed of his jacket and shirt by Namjoon, who whispers praises into the skin of his collarbones and chest. He’s getting hard with little assistance, and normally it would be somewhat embarrassing, but worse things have happened in the last hour—he might as well lean into it. So, when Namjoon asks if it’s okay to touch, he nods immediately and is rewarded with a single, teasing finger dragged over his shorts along his length and sending a shudder down his spine.

His head falls forward onto Namjoon’s shoulder as the other man softly bites and kisses across his skin. At this point, he’s prickly with anticipation and getting painfully hard, but when he looks up, all he sees is…

“Ponyo,” he says quietly.

Namjoon lifts his head from Seokjin’s pulse point, where his lips have started to become a semi-permanent fixture. His eyes are dark, cheeks flushed, and his lips are kiss-swollen when he answers, “You want to talk about my fish right now?”

Seokjin points to where she sits on the desk. “She’s watching…”

“She’s a fish.”

He can’t tell if Namjoon is endeared or exasperated.

“Both,” Namjoon says.

“I said that out loud?”

“You say a lot of things, hyung.”

That earns him a slap on the shoulder. “Can we turn her around?” Seokjin asks.

Namjoon lets out a deep laugh and smiles fondly. “You know she could just swim in any direction, right? It wouldn’t matter.”

“I would feel better.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow and mumbles, “Can’t believe I still want to suck you off after all this.” At least he’s still smiling.

“Fair,” Seokjin replies as Namjoon goes to move the fishtank. “Me either if we’re being honest.”

With Ponyo’s innocence maintained, Namjoon comes back to a shirtless Seokjin and resumes landing soft kisses across Seokjin’s jaw. It’s so nice, and Seokjin really can’t believe that this is happening—he meant it when he said he didn’t deserve this, but he’s so glad it’s finally real. The moan he lets out when Namjoon drops to his knees probably says enough, but he wants to make sure it’s really clear. “This is like a dream,” he says.

Namjoon looks up at him from where he’s untying the knot holding up Seokjin’s shorts. “Hmm… You have interesting dreams.”

“They’re usually not this good,” Seokjin says, his eyes falling closed as Namjoon slides his shorts and briefs down.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Stop talking.” Namjoon emphasizes his words by finally taking Seokjin’s cock in his hand, squeezing a little too carefully before licking along the shaft.

“Okay, I’m stopping,” he agrees, voice pitched higher as Namjoon wraps his lips around his cock. He can feel when Namjoon chokes back a laugh. “For real now,” he adds on in a whisper.

And he keeps his promise. It would be hard to formulate words even if he wanted to with the way Namjoon is working him over with his tongue and lips. His cheeks are hollowed as he takes Seokjin deeper, eyes watering, and he looks devastatingly good like this. If he didn’t want to see how far this could go, he’d be worried that the next thing Namjoon chokes on won’t be laughter.

When Namjoon reaches to squeeze his balls, Seokjin groans and his head thuds against the door behind him. It’s so overwhelming. Moreso when he brings himself to open his eyes and looks down to see Namjoon’s lips spread wide around his cock and one of his hands down his shorts stroking himself.

“You like this, Namjoon-ah? Like it so much you’re touching yourself for hyung?”

Namjoon just moans around him in response before he pushes further down Seokjin’s cock and swallows around the head.

“I’m close…” Seokjin whispers, and there’s no hesitance—he’s met with more encouraging hums as Namjoon moves faster.

He tries to reach down to pull Namjoon off of him before he comes, sure that it’s too much for a first time, but Namjoon just squeezes his thigh and then holds Seokjin in place, not letting him pull back.

When he comes, he thinks his legs might give out, it’s the best orgasm he’s had in ages—the only one he’s had with someone else in longer than he’d like to admit—but Namjoon keeps a steadying hand on his leg and holds him tight while he swallows and slowly pulls off, licking Seokjin clean.

“Okay, hyung?” he says, voice a little gravelly. It’s incredibly sexy, makes Seokjin wonder what he sounds like in the morning, wonder what he’d sound like when someone was taking him apart instead of the other way around.

“So good, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon stands and lets Seokjin pull him in for another long kiss. He tastes like Seokjin and it’s one more thing added to the list of surprisingly hot experiences that have happened to him today. They hold each other for what feels like an hour, but really can’t be more than a few seconds before Namjoon pulls away and looks down between them. “I should.. Uh…”

“Can I help?” Seokjin asks.

“Oh, uh… No, thank you. This is… Well, it’s my turn to be embarrassed, I guess.”

When Seokjin looks down, he sees a dark patch on the front of Namjoon’s shorts. “Oh, you really did like that?”

Namjoon’s cheeks turn even more pink. “Stop, hyung… I swear this isn’t a thing that happens to me usually.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to be reassuring. “It’s fine, Namjoon-ah, I think it’s kinda hot.”

“Now who’s the liar?” They both laugh into each other's shoulders until Seokjin shivers. “Cold?” Namjoon asks.

Seokjin nods, and Namjoon grabs his clothes for him from their pile on the office floor. Since Namjoon needs to get out of his dirty shorts, he puts his suit back on while Seokjin gets dressed. They look like quite the pair with Seokjin in a tracksuit and Namjoon in an actual suit—it’s even more of a relief that Yoongi sent everyone home, now.

The longer they’re quiet, the more he worries that things between them are going to be awkward. They probably should be given what just happened.

“So, uh…” Namjoon looks as nervous as Seokjin feels. “We did that.”

“We did. Yep. And you’re still my client, so…” He really hopes Namjoon isn’t about to tell him that this was a mistake, something they should pretend never happened.

“So, I think you should give my account to Jungkook. If you want.”

“Okay… That can be arranged.” It’s hard to control the grin that’s blooming on his face. “What do you want, Namjoon-ah?”

Namjoon smiles and grabs both of their bags, handing Seokjin’s to him. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

***

They do go out to dinner, and after, Namjoon comes over. Seokjin gets to confirm that the sounds Namjoon makes when he’s at someone else’s mercy are just about as perfect as any he’s ever heard. In the morning, Namjoon wakes him up carefully with warm kisses even though now that the project is done, he can go back to working from home or his actual office, and Seokjin is the one who actually has to get out of bed.

After a shower and breakfast, Namjoon rides the subway with him to his office, holding his hand the whole way. They barely let go when they enter the building, just in time for Hobi not to catch them. He thinks, anyway.

“Ah, Jinnie! And Namjoon! Good morning.”

“Hi, Hobi,” they say in unison.

“The usual?” he asks.

They nod in unison, and then Namjoon whispers, “Hyung, I’ve never told him my “usual,” but I can’t tell him no. He just makes me something different every time.”

“Oh, same for me,” Seokjin agrees. “That’s what he does to everyone.”

“How does he stay in business?” Namjoon asks, wide-eyed.

“Never underestimate the power of a smile,” Hobi chimes in as he sets their drinks on the counter.

“Or the fact that he’s the closest coffee shop for the hundreds of people in the building,” Seokjin counters.

When they get to the elevator bank, Seokjin knows it’s time to say goodbye, at least for the day. They’ve already made plans to meet after work to play table tennis together—Namjoon says that couples who have hobbies together are happier. Seokjin’s just happy that Namjoon wants to be in a couple after everything that happened, so he promises to be on his best behavior during any competitive scenarios. He’ll try, at least.

While they wait for the next elevator, clearly dragging out their temporary good-bye for as long as possible, Seokjin says, “I had an idea.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Maybe next year’s tournament could be doubles.”

Even though Namjoon won’t be working from their office, won’t have the opportunity to beat him next year, nothing really sounds better to Seokjin than to win with Namjoon by his side, as dumb as it sounds when he’s tried to say it out loud. Fortunately, Namjoon doesn’t make him.

“Sure, that’s a good idea, hyung. Who’s gonna be your partner?”

“Well, even though you won’t really be around the office much, I was thinking you would.”

Namjoon just gives him that same bright, dimpled grin as he did the first time they met. “Of course I will. We’ll be unbeatable.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin says, returning his smile. “I think we will.”

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