Morning starts with lots of yawning, sleep-squinting eyes, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Minseo wakes up early, just so she has time to actually savor her drink and wake up at a reasonable pace. Her interns always have the look of zombies, and they’re far too young to be so exhausted—even if some of it is their own fault. She has heard some rather wild stories for a weekday night, however, so they’re partly responsible for their undoing.

Buying the group coffee and donuts some mornings seems to earns her respect points, too. People seem friendlier once they’re treated, and they carry that feeling throughout the day. It works well for her office, which is dominated by women. Too often, as she grew up and into her role, Minseo faced men claiming she should smile more, because it’s better for business, even as she stared down stoic scowls of businessmen.

Happy women, relaxed atmosphere, great work environment.

Minseo only feels sorry for the newest hire, Sehun, when her girls get a little too gossipy and try to weasel personal life information out of him. It’s not easy being the sole male in the office on top of being the youngest and newest.

The one who usually swoops to his rescue is Kim Jungae. She’ll take his arm and return him to his desk or hand him papers to take somewhere, inserting herself into the conversation and driving it someplace without single young men.

As the leader of the team, Minseo is grateful. She doesn’t like scolding anyone for having some fun; she remembers being an intern—unpaid, undervalued—and she remembers the first couple of places she worked, where most of her coworkers and even bosses assumed that she was much younger than she actually was and targeted her in their jokes and workplace flirting.

Jungae is a reliable, trustworthy employee. She’s only been with the company for a year, but Minseo took notice of her right away. Since their first meeting, Jungae has gone out of her way to claim her boss’s attention.

And Minseo has no idea why. For the longest time, she just accepted that the primping, touching, and compliments were just a cat thing, but there are other cats on the team, and while they’re just as personable, they don’t gravitate to Minseo and find any excuse to invade her workspace—”I thought the room needed fresh flowers, sajang nim.” “There’s nothing worse than dead pens, right, sajang nim? Let me test yours to replace them.” “Sajang nim, would you like some tea? I made a fresh pot.”—or stand at such a proximity that should be uncomfortable but is rather warm and even comforting, sometimes.

It seemed rude to call her out on it, and it’s nothing to report to HR. Minseo got used to the brush of a tail across her leg rather than flinching at its ghostly presence and noticed how cinnamon ears will rotate when she laughs.

Somewhere along the way, it all flowed into routine. Minseo looks forward to going to work and seeing how Jungae’s tail will still and gently rise to an easy curl as she approaches to greet Minseo.

 

They kind of become friends.

Baekhee says they’re work wives and whines when Kyungsoon, Minseo’s diminutive yet mighty secretary, flicks her tawny ear.

It’s a cute concept, though, and Minseo is lying to herself when she ignores the way her heart thrills at Jungae’s laughter and agreement. She looks towards Minseo’s office and smiles when their eyes meet, tail rising with a curl.

She’s so pretty and sweet.

 

There’s a request for time off on her desk one afternoon, just for the end of the week, and Minseo signs it without question. The hybrids in the workforce have paid days off built into their contracts, so many in a year, and Jungae hardly uses hers. Minseo almost feels lonely—almost, because that’s a silly way to feel about an employee—without the cat’s laughter and kind smiles and nonsense reasons to visit her office.

And her absence is duly noted, both for the noted lack of that distinctive laugh and the dimness that seems to settle like a fog around Minseo at her desk.

Monday, Jungae acknowledges her granted request. Her tail weaves behind her.

Tuesday, Jungae sits on the corner of Minseo’s desk and discusses directions for a contract.

Wednesday, Jungae is antsy and on edge, like riding out a caffeine high. She crashes in the afternoon.

“You can take a nap on the sofa, if you want,” Minseo offers. There’s a fluffy throw blanket over the back and a pair of plush throw pillows on either end of the sofa. It’s actually quick a comfortable place to sleep; she’s done it herself plenty of times, when she stays so late there’s no point in going home.

Jungae is grateful and wraps the throw around herself before lying down and curling up like a pillbug. She doesn’t do much, shifting and sighing every so often, but Minseo is distracted and has the embarrassing thought of wanting to see what Jungae’s face looks like as she sleeps.

Thursday is Jungae’s first of three days off. Minseo barely makes it through the day. She just feels off.

Friday, she’s hovering over a pot of slowly heating coffee when she gets a text.

It’s an address, from Baekhee. Just in case you wanted to know where Jungae lives.

Minseo knows where Jungae lives. Vaguely, anyway; she’s talked about the area, her neighbors, the new boutique she’s been meaning to check out for weeks, and the nice man who’s always running around the neighborhood at the same time every day. “He never seems to open his eyes,” she muses, “like, he always looks asleep, but I’ve never seen him trip.”

She could look up her address in employee records, but that seemed like overstepping some boundary.

Why does Baekhee think Minseo needs this, and why does she save it in Jungae’s contact listing right away?

It takes a couple mugs of coffee before Minseo texts Kyungsoon that she’s taking the day off.

Jungae’s neighborhood is really nice. It’s older but maintained. The shop she’s interested in doesn’t open until ten and closes at four, which is impossible to meet with their work hours.

The elevator isn’t working, and Minseo is grateful she put flats on rather than heels. Even three stories is a lot in heels.

She checks the apartment number three times before reaching for the doorbell. She hears it ring within the apartment and waits. For some reason, she’s anxious, and she tugs the tiny wrinkles from her skirt and smooths flyaway hair over her head.

At first, she doesn’t think anyone’s home. Maybe Jungae’s asleep. Maybe she’s not even home; she could be in the hospital. There may have been an accident.

But, no, then Jungae wouldn’t have taken time off. Few people plan their own accidents.

Just as her finger touches the doorbell again, Minseo hears the rattle of the doorknob and the chain pulling taut between the door and frame. A tired amber eye peeks out, lighting up when Minseo bows.

The door shuts in her face, and the chain is removed. Jungae greets her with a taut smile and hunched bow. “I’m pretty sure I called in…”

“You did. I was just—” Lonely. After suffering a year of Jungae’s flirting and innuendo and loud laughter and chipper singing, any day without her makes the office just seem boring. Just an office. A place to clock in, work until overtime, clock out, and not think about until clocking in the following morning. Jungae is someone to look forward to seeing, hearing, and even feeling. “Worried.”

The tension around loosens, allowing an honest smile. “Thank you, sajang nim, but I’m alright. I’ll be back in a couple of days. It’s just the first couple that are really—” She catches a grunt in the back of and holds her arms closer around her middle. “Really uncomfortable. It’s usually on a weekend, but I guess my luck ran out.”

A neighbor steps out of their apartment. Their little dog stills, staring at Minseo, but is picked up before it can start barking.

“May I come in?”

Jungae looks over her shoulder, back into her home. Her tail curls around a leg, twitching. “Umm…” Finally, she shrugs. “Sure, alright. Please.” She stands beside the door, holding it as Minseo enters and toes off her shoes. Without them, she’s shorter than Jungae.

The apartment is a modest size, plenty of room for a single person or two people who don’t mind being together constantly. While the walls are the apartment-standard white, energy and emotion pulse in the bold colors of the painted canvases and framed photographs. There are a few posters, signed by the actors or writers, Minseo assumes.

Following Jungae passed the small kitchen, immediately into an open living room, Minseo nearly trips on the thickly piled white area rug. Its softness is like walking on marshmallows. To the left are three doors, and one is closed, probably a closet or pantry, but two are open—one is a tiled bathroom and the other is Jungae’s bedroom. Minseo quickly looks away once she recognizes the thing on the messy bed as a .

Jungae gestures to the red sofas facing one another, climbing onto one to sit on her feet with her tail curled over a thigh. She takes one of the heavily embroidered throw pillows and fluffs it, then flattens it, then alternates hands squeezing it before hugging it to her gut.

Even in obvious pain and no makeup or even brushed hair, she’s gorgeous. Hybrids are allowed eight days medical leave for heat cycles due to being notoriously uncomfortable and inconvenient, but Jungae never takes more than two days off, if at all. She always returns to work with a smile and performs with care and diligence. It doesn’t seem fair for her to suffer anything.

Minseo wants to make the pain go away and take care of her.

“I’ll make some tea.”

“Oh, I can—” Minseo waves at Jungae to stay put.

“Just point me in the right direction. I can handle it.”

“I feel bad, though. My boss is at my house, making me tea… What kind of a backwards host am I?”

“I didn’t call before showing up.” Jungae has an electric kettle on the countertop. Filling it with water, just setting it back on its plate and flipping a switch starts to heat it. “This is the least I can do.”

Jungae’s ears seem to relax, resting closer to her hair. “Thank you…”

As the kettle slowly warms up with an increasing hissing sound, Minseo drums her fingers against the countertop.

What is she really doing here? A boss dropping by an employee’s home unannounced is actually a breach of privacy and abuse of power, now that she thinks about it. Jungae did invite her in, but she’s out of work for a reason. Minseo’s meddling is probably more stressful than healing, no matter her intentions.

Her stress and inner monologue drive her to seek a resolution through action, and she tackles the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, wiping the counters with the damp rag and dumping the crumbs from her hand into the trash can beneath the sink. It’s where hers rests at home, too.

The kettle reaches a roiling boil, almost shaking in place until it flips off. Minseo lets it settle for a moment before pouring the water into the mugs she just washed. She drops a chamomile tea bag into Jungae’s mug—a cute cat shape, with the curled tail as the handle—and a plain green tea in her own souvenir mug.

“Would you like to go out with me? When you feel better.”

Jungae’s ears stand forward, then relax. “I’d like that.” She smiles, and her tail curls. “It’s about time, really.”

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t sure you even liked me all that much. My friends always say that when I like someone, I like them, and I just imprint like a duckling.” She laughs. “I think that’s more Baekhee, who wears you down until you just don’t have the energy to push her down, anymore!”

Minseo tucks some hair behind her ear, but it’s too short to stay there and falls back over her temple. “I’m sorry. I did notice—it just felt…” Awkward. She’s not used to people seriously flirting with her. She’s more accustomed to being one of the guys, a confidante or mother figure more than someone desirable. “I didn’t want to make your work environment awkward.”

“I don’t think that would happen. We work with very good people. Even Sehun, who’s a real brat.” They laugh, and Jungae sips her tea, looking up at her boss through thick eyelashes. “Does this mean I can call you unnie? Minseo unnie?”

A blush erupts across Minseo’s cheeks. If she was still in school, she’d hide her face in a pillow, but she’s an independent working adult, now, and she faces Jungae’s gaze with some difficulty.

She’s so gosh darn pretty.

“I’ll get going, so you can rest. Call me, if you need anything, okay? Even more days off.”

Jungae smiles and shakes her head, leaning against the open door. “I’ll be back in a couple days.” Minseo turns around in the hall to say goodbye. “See you at work, unnie.”

 

True to her word, Jungae arrives at work on time, fully upright, and without a trace of pain or discomfort. She delves into her accumulated workload—considerably smaller, since Minseo passed the bulk of it to other employees—and has plenty of time to visit Minseo in her office.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She invites herself onto the arm of Minseo’s desk chair, perching so she’s balanced with both feet off the floor. Her tail flinches, keeping her from falling off or onto Minseo. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

“Today, nothing immediate, but you can work ahead on the material for the meetings at the end of the week, if you’re bored.”

“I’m never bored with you.”

They look up at the knock on the doorframe. Sehun bows, still looking at the printout in his hand. “What should I do with this parts list? I found it cleaning out that old desk…” He falls silent, tail curling between his knees.

Minseo holds out a hand. Her movement nearly dislodges Jungae, who’s strangely silent. She usually doesn’t pass an opportunity to tease Sehun.

Looking over the list, she nods. “I’ll hang onto this for now. Thank you.”

“Y-yeah…” He leaves like the floor is on fire. Through the slat blinds, Minseo sees one of the girls talking to him. He looks relieved about something.

Between the windows is a skinny mirror, more for decoration than utility. Minseo sees their reflection and notices Jungae’s nails are digging into the top of her chair, nearly popping through the leather; her tail is bristling agitatedly, and her expression is unusually cool.

“Your first day back, and you’re already getting sassy?”

Jungae blinks slowly and smiles at her, arm slipping from the chair to Minseo’s shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t get catty.” She catches the rogue hand nuzzling her cheek with blunt nails and squeezes lightly. “Leave my poor intern alone!” Her scolding seems to have little effect, and Jungae slips her upper body behind Minseo to lean over her back and shoulders like a weighted cape.

She’s lucky she’s so cute, or one of the buttons she pushes just might be an ejector seat.

Minseo is luckier, though, and relishes in the added body heat.

---

a/n: Written for izy_angelic as part of the EXZoo exchange. (prompt In a world where hybrids are treated as equals and being differentiate by giving them some days off from works during heat. Hybrid A had been working for a year and being imprinted on the company's boss. Seducing the boss and being so smitten, the boss was annoyed at first but lately, the Hybrid A seems so cute lately. On the week of Hybrid A's, the boss is absent too.)

BlitheBoa/BumbleBoa drew some super cute fanart of the girls!