2,300 words

It’s said, according to many and most of Jongin’s friends, that Joonmyun is the most laid back, cordial, friendly, professional, and sweetest man alive. A bore, Jongin immediately thinks, well before he’s met him. Jongin’s met plenty of those already; he hardly needs to add yet another one to his growing circle of acquaintances, no matter what people say. And yet, this one isn’t just a casual someone to be introduced to at a holiday work party and then to be brushed aside, much as Jongin would like to do exactly that.

“I think you two would really hit it off,” Sehun casually tells him a week before said party.

In Sehun’s mind, Jongin hears this instead: And if you don’t, well then good luck getting yourself laid by Christmas. Don’t say I never did anything for you ever, you stuck-up good for nothing prick.

Sehun loves Jongin of course. As a friend. That much is obvious, despite the man’s internal mumbling which, unbeknownst to just about everybody, Jongin can hear. It’s a gift, call it what you will, and totally not his fault. Jongin was born with it. Or who actually remembers if he was or not. Perhaps he was struck by lightning while yet in the crib, but ever since he can recall, Jongin’s been secretly listening into people’s minds. His parents first, then his siblings. Then his friends, teachers, random people on the street whose drama Jongin has absolutely no interest in, but does the world care about that? Oh no. For the world has somehow given Jongin both a gift and a curse and, well… for the most part he’s put it to good use.

“I promise,” says Jongin, throwing his arm around Sehun’s shoulder, “that I will at least say hello to this dandy fellow you want me to sleep with before Christmastime.”

Sehun’s mouth opens to chock up an exasperated answer. Before he can stutter it out though, Jongin puts his hand over his friend’s mouth and silently shakes his head.

“No, no. Don’t say anything. I know what you were thinking, trust me.”

When Jongin finally lets him go, he gets a laugh out of Sehun walking away grumbling, “It’s like you can read minds, , that’s creepy.”

Jongin allows himself a lone smile and then gets back to his very busy workday. But first, some instant coffee at the break stand. He fills his cardboard mug with hot water and tips in the sugary mocha powder, all the while wondering what this Joonmyun will be like. Too perfect, obviously. Jongin only knows him by the three nonconsecutive Employee of the Month photos on the Staff page of the company’s website. Three times Employee of the Month in just the last year? What is he, an overachiever or something?

Jongin yawns and heads back to his cubicle. Hookups have never been his thing, no matter that select friends keep trying it. He sits and raps his fingers across the keyboard to wake up his monitor. Doesn’t Sehun know better than to do this again? The disaster at this last year’s Summer Social should have been enough of a clue. Pairing off Jongin with Chanyeol had been a total mess. Too bad he couldn’t tell Sehun that apart from acting majorly suave and sophisticated, inside Chanyeol had been a bumbling idiot who only knew how to hide his idiocy.

So what, Jongin is a picky date. When you accidentally overhear everything inside a person’s mind, it makes dating a person kind of hard.

Joonmyun, Kim Joonmyun. Who is this Kim Joonmyun and is he really as perfect as everyone says he is? Well, Jongin can just expose him and see.

A week later, dressed to the nines is his nicest suit, Jongin steps up to the plate for the first set of introductions. “Pleased to meet you,” are Joonmyun’s very first words, accompanied by a placid smile and singularly uninterested yet cordial expression. That would be fine of course. It’s clear he’s been ered into this ‘date’ just as much as Jongin was. And if that was all, then Jongin could happily return the pleasantries, make small talk for a short while, and then find the punch, alone. Except Joonmyun’s first hidden comment goes something like this: , yeah. So this is the famous Kim Jongin. Eleven out of ten would bang.

It’s hard holding onto a smile when Jongin is being so internally assaulted.

Sehun gives Jongin a little pat on the arm and excuses himself from the pair, no doubt pleased at Jongin’s silent double-take.

“Uhhhh,” says Jongin elegantly. “Pleased to meet you too. Joonmyun, isn’t it? I’m Kim Jongin.”

Hopefully that’s enough to keep Joonmyun interested. Because Jongin right now is interested. Anyone that sophisticated, and also that , has definitely got his attention.

He allows himself the next few minutes to get acquainted with Joonmyun’s looks. The man has gorgeous, silken brown hair, styled this evening to be off his forehead. It gives his forehead a very clean look. Strong jawbones and a decidedly attractive pair of lips round off his face. He could be a model, maybe, if he wasn’t so short. Jongin’s no stranger to good looking guys, but after he suggests they find something to drink, Joonmyun’s, “That would be nice,” and also his, “Hell yeah, please, let me please end this night passed out drunk in this man’s bed after a hot round of ,”keeps Jongin from running away.

Jongin makes sure to tell Sehun when they’re about to leave. It’s only been an hour into the party, the night is young, and Sehun’s eyebrows nearly fly off his face at Jongin’s pronouncement.

“W-what, already? By yourself?”

“No,” Jongin laughs, “With Joonmyun of course.” He nods in the direction of the doorway where Joonmyun is standing, the model of patience and class, waiting for Jongin to join him, ostensibly because of Jongin’s “this place is a little dull tonight. Would you like to try out my collection of Scotch instead?” Jongin believes the actual thought that passed through Joonmyun’s head that moment was: Hope your place is close. My won’t wait all night, thank you very much.

“With Joonmyun,” Sehun repeats duly. “So, it went well. You and him.”

He’s almost too much fun to mess with. “Yeah. Kinkiest man alive, from what I can tell. Thanks for the pick, Sehun. I owe you one.”

Then with a wink, Jongin is off, arm and arm with Joonmyun to catch a cab home.

It’s clear that nothing Jongin does or says affects Joonmyun’s outer layer at all. The man with the crisp suit and red bowtie remains the picture of gentlemanly perfection all the way to Jongin’s front door. He’s silent as they walk inside, appraising the interior with a bored eye while Jongin walks around turning on lights. He’s smiling when Jongin stops at the liquor cabinet to retrieve several bottles of Scotch—so they have options—and a couple tumblers. And Jongin’s no stranger to letting silence reign supreme, but usually it’s because he has no interest in dragging out a conversation from someone as boring and uptight as Joonmyun presents himself to be. In this case, however, it’s because Joonmyun’s internal monologue is too hot to interrupt.

All the places Joonmyun deems good enough to , Jongin repeats them all in his head.

All the positions Joonmyun would like him to be in, Jongin imagines too deeply.

All the hypothetical praises Joonmyun would tell him in the throes of the act, Jongin’s face actually burns red.

“Something the matter?” asks Joonmyun when Jongin hands him a drink. He does it so innocently, almost professional. In this stance, Jongin can see the business associate side of Joonmyun all too clearly. Slightly pandering, deferential but not overly condescending, Joonmyun is, an hour and a half since Jongin met him, still the picture perfect three-time Employee of the Month. He doesn’t look ruffled at all.

Meanwhile. “No?” Because Jongin will never in a million years admit how flustered Joonmyun makes him. Not while they share their drinks, not while Jongin gets buzzed, not even when this polite stage of their evening passes away and, drinks tossed aside, Joonmyun flatters him inside and out when he removes Jongin’s clothes.

Especially not when he’s being hammered into the bed just minutes later, Joonmyun’s soft grunts in his ear and his own inner dialogue stifled by passion.

Before Jongin passes out, he thinks he hears a whispered, thoughtful, That was… the best. But of course he can’t be sure, even if he’ll readily agree.

The problem with hookups, Jongin realizes the next day, is that he’s never really sure when they’re supposed to remain just that—hookups—or if it was supposed to be something more.

Joonmyun excused himself early the next morning before Jongin was barely awake, and that entire morning faded into fuzziness the longer Jongin tried to recall it. He remembers the sound of the shower, an apology when Joonmyun stumbled back into Jongin’s bedroom looking for his clothes when he accidentally knocked into the dresser. Perhaps Jongin mumbled something, but if so, then what. By the time he regained full consciousness Joonmyun was long gone, and here he was instead, alone in his empty apartment. Only his roughly strewn clothes and the empty tumblers stood testament to the events of last night. Oh, and Joonmyun’s wet towel, thoughtfully hung up to dry on the shower rail, the floor mat damp but returned to lay over the side of the tub. Ever the gentleman, Joonmyun, even when he’s gone.

Come Monday, Jongin’s not the only person in the office still wishing the weekend had been longer. He meets Sehun at the coffee station, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, but he smiles big when Jongin saunters up.

“Well?” he asks, continuing internally with, Did you do it? Ahh come on, tell me you did it? I bet you did.

This level of enthusiasm Jongin can hardly bare to counter.

He lifts one eyebrow, contemplating how much he should divulge, if anything. Moreso he’s wondering now why Sehun thought Joonmyun would be the one. He knows the two of them worked together in the same department before Sehun transferred to this side of the building, but for the life of him Jongin doesn’t remember now if Sehun has talked about Joonmyun before other than shoring up how perfect the man would be for Jongin. What then about his intentions? His habits? Other hookups? Probably Sehun has mentioned something about these things but Jongin wasn’t paying attention. So many of the dates Sehun set him up with were bad, starting inevitably with the guys showing up in Jongin’s corner of the office trying to chat him up.

Problem number one is: Jongin never liked any of those guys. So who knows if they were supposed to be one-night hookups or not.

Problem number two is: Jongin really liked Joonmyun but, see problem number one.

On the other hand, Jongin doesn’t really need Sehun to tell him what to do. He tunes his friend out for the rest of the day, in both senses of hearing, and devotes himself wholeheartedly to work. At least until the lunch hour. Then he makes his way to the basement cafeteria where all the employees routinely gather to eat. Sure, some will go out and use their free hour to scope out the neighboring cafes, but Jongin has an idea about Joonmyun. Anyone that seemingly goody two-shoes would probably not squander his time, not if he could eat fast and return to work to start earning his fourth badge for Employee of the Month.

Jongin’s right of course.

He spots Joonmyun near the entrance of the cafeteria, a billowing tray of steaming hot soup and a sandwich, chips and a bowl of fruit. He’s eating alone with just a notebook beside him, marking off something with a pen while he stuffs his face.

Jongin stands behind him for a full two minutes. It’s probably unethical that he should do this, but Joonmyun is a steady stream of profanities as he cusses out his co-workers’ shortcomings and his bosses’ short-sightedness, and it’s unexpectedly cute to realize this is who Joonmyun really is. More than a brilliant mind hiding behind a suit of middle management who happens to be good in bed, Joonmyun is in fact a stressed, harassed colleague who can’t stop his mind from roaming wherever he so wants. Cute too, in how he multi-tasks, occasionally forgetting to chew or to take another bite while he wrestles with figures and offhandedly plans grotesque ends for someone named Baekhyun who can’t ever manage to do his job right.

With a small cough, Jongin sits down to his right two seats away.

Joonmyun splutters, drops both is spoon and his pen. Within a second his face is back to placid and the smile he gives is purely professional. However, his brain goes into hyperdrive more than before, so much that Jongin has to hold back his laughter or else give his talents away.

“Jongin?”  , how did he find me here? Not ready—not ready for this, oh my GOD. Is there food on my face. Please tell me there’s no food on my face. it, just chill. I can do this, I can— “Long time no see.”

For the longest few moments, Jongin can only smile. It occurs to him that if this relationship is ever to go somewhere, he might have to one day fess up. Until then though, “Yeah, hi. You left something at my house the other night.”

Joonmyun is the picture of confused-surprised. “I did?”

“Yeah,” says Jongin. Then with a smirk, “Me.”

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