two.

It happens that for the duration of the program, each intern gets assigned to a specific department within the company. Usually it’s the marketing or the human resources or the finance department, but sometimes there’s also a special someone who makes it to research and development. The interns are then under the responsibility of a senior employee, who acts as a mentor and supervises them for the rest of the program. The objective is mainly to help the interns have their first experience in business in the best conditions.

And it’s fine, really.

Even if Donghae technically had no idea about the program in the first place, he approves of the concept. It’s, well—it’s what Donghae would have wanted for the interns, if he’d actually had a say in the whole matter. After all he participated in a similar program back in the day, when he was still young and vital and in college, so he knows how valuable this sort of opportunity is.

Although to be fair, all that Donghae remembers of his own internship is aimless wandering trying not to interfere with people’s work, and a lot of coffee-making and photocopying. It wasn’t exactly that the experience hadn’t been constructive but it’d been a rather small company with little workload back then. They had been maybe five people working together in this outrageously tiny office, yelling at each other good-naturedly over their computers while complaining about slow Internet. If Donghae has to be honest, he didn’t learn much on a practical, hard-business point of view, but he clearly remembers how much he’d enjoyed the atmosphere, the way that they were a small family and Donghae had been included with open arms. It was that memory of a tight-knit group of clever people, wanting to change the world for the better only with the help of a tiny office and the best of friends, that pushed Donghae to start his own business.

And look where Donghae is now. He’s a CEO and holding his own internship program.

That said, Donghae did not expect to be assigned his own intern. And it’s Hyukjae, at that. Donghae groans a little at the thought. but Siwon is such a meddling . According to that very same though, Donghae has apparently signed a paper—which he does not remember signing at all, but never mind that—and if he refuses to act upon it, the intern has the right to sue. And, really Donghae, Siwon had sighed very sadly, do you want us to be sued?

No, of course not Donghae does not want to be sued. But a warning would have been nice, that’s all he’s saying.

Donghae sighs wearily. He frowns down at his lap, studiously avoiding looking up at his unexpected guest. It’s not really that he’s scared to face Hyukjae just yet, but really, he is terrified.

And isn’t that the funniest thing, a CEO intimidated by his own intern?

Donghae sighs again. “You’re a disgrace,” he murmurs to himself. Then, deciding that maybe it’s time to face the inevitable, he gathers all the courage that he can find within himself and finally dares to glance up.

Hyukjae is still standing here. He looks all kinds of handsome and soft and graceful. And also quite possibly perfect. He’s humming a light tune under his breath as he peers curiously around Donghae’s office. It’s messy, probably smells of the late-night snacks that Donghae forgot to throw out last night, but Hyukjae doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he eyes a couple of open files on the desk with mild interest. Then, Hyukjae looks up and catches Donghae looking. He smiles easily, obviously finding this whole situation very amusing indeed.

Donghae gasps softly at the sight. As much as he likes to believe that he can keep this intern thing strictly professional, he can’t help the odd little jump that his heart makes when he sees the way Hyukjae valiantly tries to conceal his laughter. It’s like he knows perfectly what is going through Donghae’s mind, from the conflict of interest to the desperate swooning. It’s probably not that hard to guess what he’s thinking because Donghae’s always been told that his face is like an open book. Today it’s Hyukjae who’s reading it, the lines and lines of Donghae’s clumsy life story, clever eyes gazing back at Donghae with indulgence and something that looks a little like genuine interest.

Donghae has to remind himself how to breathe, just for a second. There’s hope blooming in the center of his chest at the sight of that small look. It’s warm and soft, and a little overwhelming if Donghae’s honest, and he just wants. He wants this, whatever it is, this odd little situation where he’s allowed to keep Hyukjae by his side for a period of time and get to know him.

Donghae wonders whether this is a blessing or just a really bad idea.

At this point, it would be hard for Donghae to deny his attraction for Hyukjae. He honestly hasn’t felt so flustered and shy because of another man in a very, very long time. It’s a rather nice feeling though, Donghae has to admit, to be feeling those light little butterflies come to life in the bottom of his stomach again. Just one quick look at Hyukjae, and—oh, and there they go again, fluttering madly with excitement. There’s also an ache that has started to grow in the left side of Donghae’s chest, reminding him that he still has a heart, and that it does still work indeed. He could do without the constant blushing and stuttering, of course—but Hyukjae seems to think not too badly of him, so it’s probably not all that bad.

But then enrolling Hyukjae as Donghae’s intern-slash-personal-assistant just for his own pleasure doesn’t really seem like the best course of action. For one thing, it’s a bit arrogant of him to think it can get him what he wants, and then there’s the rather problematic question of ethics. There’s probably an unwritten rule somewhere that looks down on a relationship between a CEO and their employees, temporary ones or not. Especially when they're technically still students. Donghae doesn’t want to have his investors on his back for flirting with a student intern, and he also does not want Hyukjae to be in trouble because he happens to be a little-very-much infatuated.

With a wistful sigh, Donghae remembers when his biggest worry was to avoid his secretary and beat his records on Cloud Path.

Hyukjae is probably consenting though and he’s legal, too, isn’t he? says a reasonable little voice in the back of Donghae’s head. It sounds a lot like Siwon. Idiot, the voice then adds and this time it’s definitely Kyuhyun. Donghae grimaces as he’s once again reminded that he’d needed the intervention of two of his best friends for his love life to even look like one again. He knows they’re just trying to help but still. What a pair of nosy s.

“Sorry, what?” says Hyukjae.

Donghae is snatched back to the present moment.

“What,” Donghae repeats and realizes with horror that he thought those last words out loud. “I mean, it’s. It’s nothing.”

Donghae looks up at Hyukjae with a guilty splutter. In front of him, Hyukjae tilts his head to the side with a cute frown furrowing his eyebrows, looking confused. Donghae has to stop himself from cooing in adoration. It’s a close call although he can’t quite stifle the quiet, besotted ‘oh’ that slips through his lips.

Then, finally remembering that he does have manners and knows indeed how to use them, at least in theory, Donghae straightens up a little and clears his throat. “Um,” Donghae stutters. He moves about his desk erratically and sends files flying all over the place. “You can, uh. You can sit down I guess?”

Hyukjae gives Donghae a curious look but doesn’t comment.

“Right,” he says instead, sounding dubious as he glances at the chair opposite of Donghae’s.

The chair is—God, but it’s such a mess. It’s crowded with a dangerously high pile of other files, there’s a bag of last night’s curry leftover on top of it which is dripping all over a business plan, and Donghae’s coat has been thrown haphazardly across the disaster that he’s somehow created without noticing. Clearly there’s no place for Hyukjae to sit properly. Donghae feels another rush of embarrassment slam through him.

“Oh!” Donghae jumps to his feet, sending his own chair to roll back abruptly. It hits the wall behind him with a loud thud that startles him. Stumbling around the desk, Donghae hastily throws his coat in the general direction of the coat rack and pushes the bag of curry out of the way, before he clumsily picks up the stack of papers. There’s a hot, sheepish blush on his face when he straightens up towards Hyukjae.

“I—I’ll put this away, you can, um. I’m so sorry, hold on, I—”

But then Donghae trips on his own feet, and his fingers start to lose their grip around the files. He yelps, horrified, and flails around in his best attempt to salvage the imminent disaster.

But it’s already too late. A fraction of second later, all the documents slip out of his hands. They scatter listlessly at his feet; across the floor; under the desk.

Donghae doesn’t move for a long minute. He’s been shocked into complete stillness.

Hyukjae blinks quickly, standing very straight in front of Donghae. He looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. “Do you.” He pauses. Clears his throat. His eyes are bright with humor as a tiny little grin tugs stubbornly at the corners of his plump, pink lips.

Donghae isn’t sure if he feels very pleased to have prompted that, or just desperate and resigned that he’s such a walking disaster.

“I could help you?” Hyukjae offers finally.

Donghae sighs heavily. His shoulders slump down in defeat. “Yes, please.”

*

It’s another half hour before Donghae and Hyukjae manage to clear out a chair for the latter to sit down properly. They go through the scattered documents in a rather awkward silence, at least on Donghae’s part, as they put the files back together and arrange them into two neat piles along an empty section of a wall.

It’s not the most complicated task Donghae had to deal with but he still feels exhausted by the end of it. His proximity with Hyukjae made Donghae feel especially jittery and clumsier than usual. That means really that he was even more useless than even on his worst days. The strain that Donghae inflicted upon himself to refrain from doing anything really stupid in front of Hyukjae has put a toll on him. It makes him feel like he’s aged at least ten years in the past thirty minutes.

Donghae sighs heavily. He flops down onto his chair and groans a little too loudly. In front of him, Hyukjae finally settles down in his own file and curry-free seat, and he looks especially pleased and satisfied with this new development. It’s a little as if he knows how much of a big deal it is to get Donghae to dig through his horrible mess.

Hyukjae sits straight, and his clever eyes peer at Donghae with silent expectation. The latter isn’t sure whether it’s expectation for some kind of job or for him to finally act like he’s not completely insane. In either case, he’s sorry to say that Hyukjae will be thoroughly disappointed.

There’s also a hint of amusement that still flashes across Hyukjae’s face from time to time, especially when Donghae groans or scowls or spaces out. It gives Donghae the very uneasy feeling that maybe Hyukjae can read everything that is going through his mind. That’d be a disaster, he thinks in panic, because his mind is a terrible place and holds too many secrets about how much he likes that fancy suit that Hyukjae is wearing.

Donghae clears his throat. Throws a suspicious look at Hyukjae. He makes a vain attempt at clearing out his thoughts, just in case, but suspects that all he achieves is looking a bit cross-eyed in concentration.

Donghae thinks it’s rather funny that he’s putting more efforts in not-thinking, on the off-chance that Hyukjae might be psychic, than he does when CEO-ing. Which reminds him that he does, in fact, need to maintain the appearance that he knows what he’s doing. He’s not sure that he’s fooling anyone but Kyuhyun always tells him that he’d better try, or else.

“Okay, um,” Donghae gulps uneasily. Hyukjae gives him an encouraging smile, which fortifies him just a little. “You’re. You’re Hyukjae.”

Hyukjae’s right eyebrow twitches slightly. He looks like he’s barely stopping himself from delivering a witty comeback. “Yes,” he says instead, “Lee Hyukjae, sir.”

Donghae almost squeaks aloud at the cheeky “sir”. A hot blush blossoms on his face, and he feels like a complete deviant. It sounds so inappropriate, somehow, to hear it from Hyukjae’s pretty mouth, uttered almost with challenge. Donghae usually hates it when people call him that way, but with Hyukjae, he feels an excited thrill course through him.

“Right. Well.” Donghae really has no idea what he’s supposed to do. There was no tip on how to handle your new and very cute intern-assistant in his CEO handbook. “We can, uh, probably talk about.” He pauses. Scrunches up his nose. “About, you know, what I’ll be expecting from you? And… things? I guess?”

Hyukjae nods. Suddenly his demeanor changes for a more serious look as he pulls out a pen and a tiny notebook from his inside pocket. He uncaps his pen with his teeth, leans his forearms on his knees for better support, and then looks up at Donghae expectantly.

Donghae doesn’t really know how he can expect anything from him when he looks like that. Hyukjae’s like a dream, all fancy and handsome and focused—and yet so young and inexperienced.

There’s something a little vulnerable in Hyukjae’s attitude, too, somewhere beneath all that confidence and cheekiness that Donghae likes so much. He can see it now as he looks for it, for hints of that litt