The winery they pull into ten minutes later, is a far cry from the stifling, sophisticated décor of the Chateau Mormont, but, given the way the morning had gone, Jaejoong finds the change reassuring.

The vineyards seem to go on for miles on end, curlicues of grape twining themselves into the wooden hedges, stretching further than the eye can see. The vineyards open up into a small cobblestone courtyard, furnished with a few small tables. It’s simple, quiet and unpretentious, and Jaejoong feels the knot of anxiety in his stomach slowly unloosen.

“Two tasting flights please,” Yunho tells the waiter, without looking at the menu.

“Very good sir,” the waiter returns cheerily, leaving Jaejoong gaping after him.

“Do you know a lot about wine?” 

“No,” Yunho shakes his head and laughs. “But I had a feeling that wasn’t really the point of this excursion.”

“And what was the point of this excursion?”

Yunho offers him a grin. “To get ridiculously drunk?”

“After the morning we’ve had, that’s definitely a plan I could get on board with.”





The winery, Yunho tells Jaejoong later, is small and family run. He likes it because they produce their wines in fresh batches, and unlike the larger commercial wineries, they’re run by the same family that’s owned them for generations.

“They’ve never won any awards at big wine conventions,” Yunho says, ducking his head, almost shy, “but I like it here. The wines are easy to drink, which is a lot more than I can say for almost anything they served at that fancy chateau.”

Jaejoong picks up his tasting flight, inhaling tentatively. He’s surprised by the wine’s bouquet which smells, fresh, crisp and sweet, like summer fruit and apple blossoms.

“This actually smells kind of like summer,” Jaejoong says and is rewarded when Yunho’s face lights up.

“Try it,” Yunho says, “it’s one of my favorites.”

The wine is light and faintly sweet, like warm beach sand between your toes, first loves and freshly baked apple pie. It slides down Jaejoong’s throat, smooth like butter.

“You know,” Jaejoong says impishly, “I think I might like wine after all.”

Yunho laughs, and just like that the tension eases out of his shoulders. 

“I’m glad we’re here together," Jaejoong says later, "because, um I thought you’d be really boring, but you’re actually not so bad.”

“Thanks? I guess?” Yunho grins, “way to stand on ceremony with your client.” 

“After that afternoon we had, I’m pretty sure this relationship could stand a little brutal honesty.” 

“It could probably withstand a whole lot more than that,” Yunho murmurs, quietly. 

His eyes flicker over to Jaejoong and rest on his face a moment too long, before he clears his throat, “well, honesty looks good on you.”

“With this wine, almost anything would,” Jaejoong teases, toasting Yunho with his glass, and if his cheeks are a little pink, it’s because of the too-warm summer sun and all the carafes of wine they’ve shared.

 

As much as Jaejoong is loathed to admit, Jung Yunho is fascinating, businessman title or not. Perhaps Jaejoong had been overly critical of businessmen as a category. He'd always saw them as greedy mercantile types, soulless and devoid of dreams. And so far, in his six years of interaction with them, that assertion had never been disproven.

Until Yunho.

But then, Yunho was.

Different.

He looks so handsome this way, his dove grey jacket forgotten in the car, his crisp business shirt ed at the collar. The wind ruffles his hair, sending errant strands across his face. And Jaejoong can’t help but admire how relaxed he looks, nothing like the brutally capable businessman Jaejoong knows he is, but casual, young, carefree

Jaejoong watches his eyes fill with warmth and hope and passion as Yunho begins to gesture wildly, his excitement palpable as he shares anecdotes about the deals he had closed, the entrepreneurs he had helped, the charities he had founded in Africa.

It should all sound so pretentious, but it’s not.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

Yunho ducks his head a little, embarrassed, “it really wasn’t a big deal.”

“And he’s modest too,” Jaejoong teases, “mister perfect.”

“Being in Africa taught me so much,” Yunho says his gaze soft and faraway, “the people there were so happy, even when they had nothing. And it made me realize all the things and people I was taking for granted.”

“It seemed so silly to have so much – the houses, the cars, the business.” Yunho sighs, almost wistful, “and no one to share it with.”

“But then you found Ara,” Jaejoong finishes. “That’s. That’s perfect.”

“Right,” Yunho says, coughing and looking away with a quiet sigh. “Perfect.”