Junmyeon says farewell to Baekhyun early on a Sunday morning. He loads his overnight bag into his car and sets google maps on his phone for the address of the conference, waving him off as he backs down the drive. Baekhyun has a boyfriend now (who would have thought?) and it was Junmyeon’s idea that he spend the night over for the first time. It’ll be nice to give them space, he thinks as he pulls out onto the main street. Give them some time alone together.

The drive is peaceful and Junmyeon bluetooths in all the music that Baekhyun normally barely tolerates, singing along embarrassingly loudly while he’s by himself. It takes him about an hour and a half to get to the hotel that the legal conference is being held at and once he arrives there’s a valet out the front to take his car and usher him inside to check in. Junmyeon isn’t speaking on a topic today so he’s just a regular attendee, which makes the registration process a little simpler. So much so that despite the travel time Junmyeon figures he has enough time to dump his little bag and head back down to catch most of the afternoon’s talks.

The key card takes one or two goes to give him the little green light at his room and Junmyeon juggles his bag to get it to work. Finally though it flashes admittance and he can get inside. With the heavy drapes drawn and the lamps down low, the room looks like twilight already and as Junmyeon is absently fishing along the wall for the slot that will allow his card to activate the lights, movement in a chair by the window makes him jolt back against the door, a hand going to his chest.

“Jesus Christ.” Junmyeon’s heart hammers against the other side of his ribs and he in a deep breath, letting it out with  a shaky chuckle, “Don’t do that to me.”

Gold cuff-links flash in the lamplight as Sehun raises a glass of deep red liquid. Wine, Junmyeon’s mind supplies blearily. At two in the afternoon. He manages to locate the card holder and stuffs the plastic home. The overhead lights come on.

“How did you get in here?”

Sehun smiles from where he’s lounging on one of the overstuffed chairs, a leg thrown haphazardly over the armrest. “You obviously read the overhead well before you came here.”

Junmyeon crosses to the small desk that sits recessed near the minibar. “Ah.” He remembers. Zhee, Rose and Associates – Hosted at Oh Towers. “How long has your father owned the building?”

“Long enough.” Sehun swings his leg down to face Junmyeon, the wine glass cupped in both hands between his knees. “I used to play on all these floors when I was a kid, while everyone worked.” He shrugs, looking impish. “I still know who to sweet talk to give me a cleaner’s key.”

Junmyeon laughs. “Yeah well you can take your key and go hide out somewhere else, Mr Oh.”

Sehun sinks back into the cushions. “Mr Oh is my father. I’ve told you, call me Sehun.”

Junmyeon deposits his bag on the desk and takes out a fresh tie, glancing quickly at Sehun as he does. “I know,” he replies quietly. Sehun stands as Junmyeon slips the material around his neck and Junmyeon gets his first look in the better lighting at the other man. “And your father isn’t going to like that,” he laughs, spotting the pastel pink tinge Sehun has run through his hair. It looks so good on him that Junmyeon drops his gaze.

Sehun places the glass on a side table and raises his eyebrows smugly. “He can’t say anything about it until I’m out of college. Until then it’s my decision.”

“Uh huh,” Junmyeon teases, hiking up his collar. “There will be words. Don’t be surprised if a maid comes in with a packet of bleach while you’re sleeping.”

Sehun’s footsteps bring him closer and Junmyeon is suddenly aware of just how close he is. A hand reaches out and takes hold of the end of the tie. Junmyeon keeps his eyes down, fiddling uselessly with his collar as he can feel his heartrate kick back up again. Junmyeon closes his eyes, swallowing. This isn’t… he can’t.

Sehun’s long fingers flick the end of the tie back and forth, not saying anything, just playing and Junmyeon wonders if this is how a mouse feels when it’s cornered by a hungry cat. Taking a step to the side Junmyeon puts a tiny bit more space between them. Sehun lets the tie slide out of his fingers as Junmyeon goes. His voice is quiet.

“I’m glad you came.”

Junmyeon throws the long end of the tie through the loop, knotting it quickly. “The partners here are all excellent. I wanted to hear them speak. They’re innovative.” Snugging the knot up against his throat, Junmyeon folds his collar back down. Now he looks presentable. He tugs at his suit jacket that’s become a little rumpled from his long drive. “Now come downstairs. You can’t hide in here forever.”

The softness that underlies Sehun’s whine plucks something in Junmyeon’s chest. “You could just keep me.”

Junmyeon finally looks up. Sehun stands there in one of his immaculate suits that probably costs more than Junmyeon makes in a year, puffy pink hair softening the sharp lines of his face into something delicate. His expression is open as always, hiding nothing, offering everything and Junmyeon opens his mouth, aches to say something and then closes it again, opting instead to take Sehun by the elbow and guide him out.

Sehun pauses just outside the door as Junmyeon is retrieving his key from the electronic holder on the wall. “It’s been two months since the trial. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

When Junmyeon closes the door and turns back, Sehun is already walking away.

* * *

The conference lasts until well into the evening, pausing for a nice dinner and then resuming with a few final panels. By the time everything finishes up it’s long past dark outside and even though this is where the networking usually starts in earnest in the hotel bars and tapas eateries, Junmyeon excuses himself after sunset. He’s made a few connections in terms of the big partners last year and can afford to be a little frugal on his socialising this time around. Plus he’s tired. It’s been a long drive and Junmyeon’s eyes are sore from the copious notes he’s been taking. He deliberately doesn’t let himself think about Sehun even though he’s not seen him again all day. Not that he’d been keeping an eye out.

Lawyering conferences weren’t really Sehun’s thing anyway. Nothing about lawyers and lawsuits and court cases had ever been in his sphere of interest. Until three months ago.

The long hallways are quieter at this time of the evening and Junmyeon pulls his little plastic lanyard from around his neck as he gets to his door. This time the key card isn’t as fussy. Junmyeon lets himself in and if his eyes flick to the empty chair by the window… it’s nothing he tells himself. Just checking.

The tie follows, then the jacket, both draped over the desk chair and Junmyeon is on the first two buttons of his dress shirt when he turns around and finally spots the lump on the bed. His fingers stop, falling away and he just stands there for a long moment. It takes a bit to get his legs working again  but when he does manage it, he crosses over. The sight makes him sigh softly. Fondly.

Sehun is a tiny ball, curled up asleep under the covers. Junmyeon is struck with just how trustingly sweet this is and he clenches his jaw to keep from making a sound. Sinking down he perches on the edge of the bed. The lamplight makes Sehun’s hair look like so much cotton candy spread out on the pillow and Junmyeon weakens as Sehun snuffles at the dipping of the mattress, wiggling further down. Hesitating, Junmyeon reaches out and gently picks up several wispy pink strands, moving them back off his forehead.

Sehun buries his face into the pillow a little more at the touches, murmuring sleepily and barely audible. “I waited.”

“I know.” Junmyeon gives in and just this once lets his fingertips trail from Sehun’s hair down to his cheek. His skin is shockingly soft and Junmyeon pulls his hand back when he can feel his fingers ache to touch more. “Go back to sleep. I’m here.”

“Waited,” Sehun repeats drowsily, still half asleep and Junmyeon knows he means more than just the length of today. “Missed you.”

Junmyeon bites his lip, collecting himself and desperately trying not to reply to that with the first thing that comes to mind. It takes a few moments. Finally he pushes himself up and stands. He should kick Sehun out. He really should...

Junmyeon tucks the covers a little higher around Sehun’s shoulder. “Goodnight, Mr Oh.”

That earns a whuffle but Sehun is already back under so Junmyeon turns out the lamps, leaves his clothing and settles into the chair by the window. The mostly empty wine glass is still there, long since over-aired but Junmyeon picks it up anyway, placing his lips over where he imagines Sehun’s had been. He finishes the glass slowly. I missed you too. I shouldn’t. But I did.

Sehun is gone when he wakes up. Junmyeon collects his car in the morning and returns to Baekhyun.

* * *

The invitation to dinner is very hard to ignore. They always are. Junmyeon takes his time getting dressed in dark jeans and a suitably-decent dress shirt, bids goodnight to a toiling Baekhyun who is both cramming desperately for his upcoming finals and constantly checking his phone for something. Junmyeon reminds him that he will be back in a couple of hours and that dinner is in the fridge if he’s hungry, he just needs to heat it up. He gets a distracted wave and a small finger heart.

The night air is cool against his skin as Junmyeon waits on the curb for his Uber to pull up. At least the driver knows not to talk much because truth be told, Junmyeon wouldn’t know what to say anyway. He passes the ride in companionable silence, drifting over the nervous thoughts that always crop up whenever he knows he’s about to encounter Sehun until the driver slows to a stop and hooks an elbow back over the seat.

“Uh, is--this is the place right?”

Junmyeon snaps back to reality. The driver is double-checking his phone but Junmyeon unlatches the door and steps out without blinking. “Yes, thank you.”

The tall gates of the house make it look a little like a movie-star property but Junmyeon ignores them and moves to the small security hut that stands to one side. The neatly-dressed guard pokes his head out as he hears the crunch of asphalt that signals the car pulling away.

“Oh! Hi Mr Kim.”

“Hey Kris,” Junmyeon offers a small wave. “Can I just go in on foot tonight?”

The guard blinks, glancing around as if expecting Junmyeon’s car to be there like always, but wisely doesn’t make any comment. The Ohs pay their staff to be two things: efficient and discreet. So he simply nods and lets Junmyeon in through a smaller side gate.

“Have a nice night, sir. Welcome back.”

Junmyeon gives him a warm smile and slips through. The walk up the long, perfectly-coiffured front drive is always something to savour so Junmyeon enjoys the view; miles of manicured lawns and trimmed hedges that up against the sweeping gravel driveway, all leading up to the two columns that bracket the front door of the… Junmyeon doesn’t finish that thought. He never calls the Oh residence a mansion, not even to himself. The family is impossibly wealthy and so far out of his league already that he doesn’t need to make himself feel any smaller.

Maybe he shouldn’t have worn jeans. Junmyeon always second-guesses himself before he knocks on the door. Every damn time. But no matter what he wears, the reception is the same. So Junmyeon takes hold of the heavy brass knocker that looks like it should instead be in an eighteenth century film and thunks it against the door.

It’s Sehun’s father who opens the door and before Junmyeon can breathe he’s enveloped in a huge hug, all tight arms and a big barrel chest. Mr Oh senior squeezes Junmyeon like a little plushie and then lets him drop back to the ground, laughing.

“Welcome! Come on in! Come on i--where’s your car?”

Junmyeon smiles. “In for a service. I took a lift.”

“Ah! Marvellous. For a second there I thought you’d done something preposterous,” Sehun’s father ushers Junmyeon in happily and closes the door behind him. “You know, like take a bus.” His face screws up comically and Junmyeon pats him reassuringly as they move for the formal lounge.

“I’m fine I promise. And you should try public transport for once, you know. Really.”

Mr Oh senior looks scandalised. Fluffing with the casual jacket he has on, he herds Junmyeon towards the open bar in one corner. “One doesn’t travel with the great unwashed,” he stage-whispers and Junmyeon bites his lips to pin his smile down. “Now, my boy! We have some imported reds tonight. Sweet or dark wine?”

Junmyeon pauses, fiddling with the cuff of one sleeve. He’s never quite sure of the correct answer to this little game that’s played every time he comes over because he’s not a seasoned drinker - and he swears his answers just double-down on the Ohs’ opinion of him as an uncultured bumpkin. “Uh…” he stalls, glancing around. His eyes catch movement on the second story, at the banister that brackets the whole open space.

Sehun leans on the railing, one hand held up, two fingers raised silently. Junmyeon hazards the second option. “Savoury?”

“Excellent choice! I have just the vintage. You must have remembered I told you that we were having truffles, I take it? I knew you had a memory on you!”

Junmyeon exhales, laughing silently. He flicks his eyes up again as he takes a glass from Mr Oh senior. Sehun has gone. “Thank you sir.”

Sehun’s father claps Junmyeon on the back. “Not at all! Now come, come. I want to hear all about the exciting cases you’ve been working on.”

“You know I’m bound not to reveal any of the important details.”

Mr Oh senior waves a hand like he’s swatting a fly. “Oh yes, I understand the need for subtlety. But tell me, there’s got to be something interesting that you can be appropriately vague to me about. You know how I love your work.”

The lights around the dining table are soft when they change rooms and Junmyeon feels a little like an intruder every time he enters here. It’s a long, long table meant for far more people than are eating here tonight and Junmyeon can never help but to notice the one spot to the side of Sehun’s father that is never filled.

Crossing to his seat, Mr Oh senior deposits his wine glass and glances around. “Now we’re just missin- Sehun! We have a guest! Do show your face please!”

There’s the sound of footsteps on the upper landing and Sehun meanders down, looking the way he only ever does when Junmyeon sees him at home; in soft tailored pants and a warm sweater. Something out of a home style magazine and Junmyeon vaguely wonders with a skip of his heart why he never modelled for his father’s business. Perhaps he’d ask one day.

“Ah! There you are!” Sehun’s father makes for the kitchen. “Let me just see how the staff are plating up. Excuse me.”

Sehun’s feet are bare, Junmyeon notices as he gets closer, hands in his soft pockets and a welcoming smile on his face. Junmyeon tamps down on the overpowering urge to hug him. Instead he places his own hand on the back of his chair and looks pointedly at Sehun’s hair.

“Still winning I see.”

“Told you.” Sehun beams.

Junmyeon swallows, weak to the power of that smile. He taps on the chair under his hand for something to do, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to look at it. “It uh… it suits you, Mr Oh.”

Junmyeon can hear the patience in Sehun’s voice. “Junmyeon please call-”

Sehun’s father sweeps back in, carrying two plates balanced on one arm and a third in his other hand. “Sit, please! The staff were about to bring it out but I wanted to do it myself.”

Junmyeon quickly pulls his chair out and drops down. “Careful, we’ll get you to ride a bus one day at this rate.”

Mr Oh senior levels him with the flattest look as he deposits the plate in front of him and Junmyeon laughs into his wine glass. He takes a sip as Sehun settles down beside him and his father takes up his customary position opposite Junmyeon. The fourth setting remains bare, but Junmyeon pays his respects silently before picking up his knife and fork like every other time before even if he knows it’s been empty for most of Sehun’s life. It still feels like the right thing to do.

Sehun’s father is a bubble of energy throughout dinner, engaging both Junmyeon and his son back and forth with the expertise of someone who has long held court with people. Junmyeon really does enjoy these evenings. The entrée becomes dinner, which then faithfully turns over to dessert with different bottles of wine that perfectly match each course being opened by Sehun. Junmyeon knows well enough by now to drink lots of water in between each course.

The dim light is homely and Junmyeon keeps a faithful eye on the time which the Ohs kindly never mention because they know how important it is that he gets back to Baekhyun. But the conversation is light and Junmyeon laughs until his sides hurt when Mr Oh senior recalls a story of his younger days when he was such a tyrant at the magazine that his first receptionist went out to ‘move his car’ - and simply never came back. And if Sehun’s thigh gradually moves over to rest warmly against his under the table, well Junmyeon is weak enough for once not to move away.

It’s when Sehun clears the final course away that his father watches him head to the kitchen with a fond look in his eyes. “You know, I want him to follow in my footsteps.”

Junmyeon folds and refolds his napkin. It’s one of those material ones; expensive and heavy. “Is that what he wants?” he hazards quietly.

Sehun’s father’s eyes are inscrutable when he turns them on Junmyeon. Shrewd. “I think so. I… hope so,” he replies. “He’s all I have left. I want what’s best for him.”

Junmyeon nods, ignoring the pinch inside at those words. “I know. And he’ll do well.”

Mr Oh senior gazes at Junmyeon for a moment, sitting behind those same eyes that Junmyeon can’t quite read. It’s a little like he’s sizing him up and Junmyeon does his best not to squirm under the assessing gaze. Surely… surely there’s no way that Sehun’s father could know. He can’t. Junmyeon and Sehun have done nothing. Junmyeon has seen to that. But the long look that Sehun’s father is giving him now…

If he ever found out that Junmyeon was harbouring feelings for his son, that could ruin everything. Sehun is the jewel of his father’s eye. He has the world at his feet, deserves that world - and that world is most assuredly not Junmyeon with his moderately decent wage and his beloved ward. Or his heartbreakingly stupid feelings.

Because even if Junmyeon never acts on them, even if he’s grown so firm in keeping them tamped down for most of the time, even if just sometimes looking at Sehun hurts because he’s so beautiful… Junmyeon can’t risk revealing any of it. Because if he did and that in any way damaged these two men he’s come to care for… Junmyeon would never forgive himself. So he picks up his empty wine glass and Sehun’s father’s one and asks if they should have a refill, because he’s not driving tonight. Just to break the moment.

Mr Oh senior doesn’t bring the subject of Sehun up again. He returns to smiling at Junmyeon’s stories and be his own impending retirement. Junmyeon is vaguely dragged into a promise to go with the family on one of their yachts when this eventually happens and Mr Oh senior is bored with no longer being kept busy. He says he’ll think about it one day.

By the time the allocated hours have passed, its Sehun who finally sees Junmyeon to the door. The air is sharp outside and maybe it’s the alcohol in his system but Junmyeon feels lighter leaving the confines of that massive house. He leans against one of the pillars and smiles, pulling out his phone to book an uber. It’s then that Sehun notices.

“Hey… where’s your car?”

Junmyeon chuckles and it comes out as a foggy little puff as he’s fiddling with his phone. “You didn’t think to ask that before I drank over the limit?’

Sehun’s voice is abashed. “Ah, no. Okay. Good point. But where is it?”

Junmyeon sends out a request and watches the rings ping out to find a driver. “It’s getting a full look over at the repair shop. I want it in good condition. It’s going to be a gift.”

“You’re giving away your car?’

Ding. A driver takes the request and Junmyeon sees he has five minutes before he gets there. He closes the phone and looks up. And up, because Sehun is so tall it’s distracting. He’s pulled the neck of his sweater up to his chin against the chill. Junmyeon gets lost in just looking at