When Joonmyun wakes, the room is cold and empty and there's a stale aftertaste in his mouth. It reminds him of a soured version of what Tao'd tasted like the night before and the thought brings back the images of his endeavors with a rushing force that has him immediately rolling over to retch into the wastebin beside the bed. Maybe it's a good thing Tao didn't stay, because that was decidedly unattractive. Once his stomach is empty, Joonmyun drags himself to a sitting position and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He can feel the beginning of a migraine and there's an ache in his thighs from tensing up so forcibly last night.

Dragging himself from the bed, he glances at the clock, grimacing. He's late for work, and as somebody who's almost always punctual, it makes his stomach pit even further. With no time for a shower or to run home for a change of clothes, he tugs on his rumpled clothes from the floor of the bathroom, tries to comb his hair into place, and smears a handful of water over top in lieu of gel before stepping into his shoes and heading downstairs to check out. Hailing a cab, he stops on Fifth Ave before he reaches the office, purchases the first suit out of a window, and changes the second he gets to his office.

Yifan makes his way into Joonmyun's office shortly after, a knowing smirk on his lips and much more put together than himself.

"Unless you have a triple shot of espresso, don't you dare talk to me," Joonmyun grumbles, fiddling with the buttons of his blazer, hunched grumpily over his desk. Yifan laughs, moving in to reach out and help him, though his big hands fumble as much as Joonmyun was. Eventually, he gets it buttoned.

Yifan sniffs obnoxiously at the air. "You smell like...."

"I do not," Joonmyun chokes, pushing Yifan's face away. "Get your wriggling caterpillars out of my face." If Yifan's offended, he doesn't show it, instead reaching to yank the tag off Joonmyun's armpit.

"So I guess you followed my advice then." The cheeriness in his voice is irritating and Joonmyun shoots him a glare.

"I thought I said don't talk to me without espresso."

"Jongdae'll be back with it any minute," Yifan shrugs. Joonmyun continues to glare but saunters off towards the mirror on his wall instead, trying to smooth down his hair. "I've got some hairspray in my desk," Yifan offers.

"Why am I not surprised," Joonmyun sighs, deeming his hair untameable and instead trying to do that "fashionably messy" thing that Baekhyun always does. Yifan's snorts from behind him tell him he's not pulling it off too well.

The door to his office opens after a brief knock, and Jongdae, Joonmyun's intern, slips inside with a drink tray in one hand and a folder tucked under his arm in the other, and also the tiniest skin tight pants Joonmyun's ever seen.

Blinking slightly, the brunette moves to meet him at the desk, taking the coffee gratefully and the folder curiosly, glancing over the title. PARK INDUSTRIES. Huh.

"Did you get lost along the way?" Yifan teases Jongdae, a charming grin on his lips and head tilted a bit as he tries to subtly glance down at the other's legs. Jongdae grins back, lips curled up at the corners and cheekbones that could cut glass.

"I was hoping your coffee would be cold by the time I came back," he responds, voice dripping with sarcasm despite his pleasant tone. "I asked for extra ice cubes just to be sure this time. Wouldn't want you to burn yourself, sir."

Yifan pouts slightly. "Harsh."

"Only looking out for you, sir~."

Joonmyun grimaces, swatting the folder between them. "Okay, that's enough, you can leave now, Jongdae. Ask Baekhyun to process the day's schedule and bring it to me on your way, please."

"Yes sir," Jongdae laughs, turning to leave. Once he's gone, Joonmyun moves to plop into his chair and card open the folder he'd brought. "I'm going to change the dress policy," he mutters under his breath.

"You better not if you want to live," Yifan immediately retorts, moving to take a large gulp of his 'iced coffee' only to burn himself, sputtering and drop the cup on the edge of Joonmyun's desk, the scalding contents splattering all over the floor. "That little !"

Joonmyun closes his eyes, pressing his fingers into his temples, and reaches over to page Baekhyun for a mop and rag.

---

The days start to blur together as Joonmyun struggles between pretending he and Tao didn't happen (despite Tao's almost daily texts; he doesn't respond to any of them; they stop after a week.) and finding a strange ache in his chest that he starts to akin to stress. He stays late nights in the office, sending his employees home even if he himself doesn't quite feel like leaving just yet, reading and re-reading the new PARK INDUSTRIES deal. It's one of the biggest investments his company has yet to handle.

Park Chanyeol is a household name not only in Seoul, but around the world, as one of the most influential music labels worldwide, working hand in hand with EMI and Universal Studios to produce international artists that take the world by storm. He also happens to be in the world's Top Ten Most Eligible Bachelors, with great looks, a bright personality, and a 1000-watt smile; he makes ladies swoon from every continent. 

It seems PARK INDUSTRIES is interested in expanding their territory, aiming to merge with a Chinese record label in hopes of bridging both a peaceful bond between Korea and China as well as jumping into the vast market that is Chinese Pop. Park Chanyeol's come to X&O (the stupid name was definitely Yifan's idea, but Joonmyun had nothing better to top it) in hopes that they could harness a chunk of his vastly amassed wealth, as well as the new Chinese label's, and offer a monetary incentive for the merger. 

Joonmyun's read over the paperwork enough times to recite it by heart with his eyes closed, and as the night drags on, he loses himself to his windows again, staring out across the cityscape. The lights begin to burn into his irises, and his heart wrenches in confusion. No matter how much he tries to drown in work, everything comes back to Tao, and the guilt and turmoil rots in his stomach. His eyes begin to burn and he can't even bring himself to catch a cab home, instead folding his papers shut and pushing away from the desk silently.

He makes his way over to the couch near the windows and falls onto it half-heartedly, draping his blazer over himself as a psuedo blanket. He falls asleep sometime after the city lights begin to resemble Tao's sharp eyes.

---

"...Mr. Kim."

Joonmyun groans slightly, twisting his face to try to hide in the back of the couch from the light threatening to invade his eyelids.

"Mr. Kim."

What in the world is that noise?

"Mr. Kim!" Joonmyun's suddenly assaulted by a couch pillow, and he's twisting to shield himself, squawking indignantly and flailing wildly on the couch. He nearly falls right off the edge, and Baekhyun's quick to step back in mild disgust, saving his shoes from being squashed. 

"Sir, did you sleep here last night? You look like a crumpled mess, and you have a meeting in fifteen minutes." He sounds mildly exasperated, and Joonmyun gives him a guilty smile, laughing nervously, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. Baekhyun clicks his tongue irritably, turning to stomp off haughtily.

"I'll get you something to wear, but please do something about your hair, sir," follows him out the door. Joonmyun sheepishly climbs to his feet and tries to fix his hair in the mirror. It's ridiculous, and eventually he calls for Jongdae to grab the hairspray from Yifan's office.

---

"I can't believe you fit in those," Yifan comments, mildly amused as he stands beside Joonmyun, crisp and well put together in his stark black suit and red tie, a gold dragon clasp holding it in the middle of his button up perfectly. Joonmyun grimaces and turns his head towards the other side of the elevator.

"One more comment, Yifan," he mutters dryly, picking at Jongdae's tight slacks, the back of his neck heated at how visible hiseverything was in the practically painted on fabric.

Yifan merely laughs, clapping Joonmyun on the shoulder and they ride on in silence. Mostly.

"Just don't get excited," he shoots the last comment out as the doors open and Joonmyun wishes he could shrivel up and die.

---

Zitao picks up his phone irritably, thumbing through his email as he sips at a green tea frappe, sunglasses reflecting the Starbucks like a pair of mirrors. An earbud hangs out of one ear and his hair is styled impeccably for someone just spending the day in class. 

"Why do you look constipated?" Sehun prods at Zitao verbally from behind his MAXIM magazine, not even bothering to look up. Jongin's practically draped over his shoulder, nose wrinkled as he judges the spread they're checking out.

"I do not," Zitao bites back arrogantly, shooting Sehun a glare from behind his reflector aviators, giving a soft 'hmph.' 

"You totally do."

"I've got some stomach medicine in my backpack," Jongin offers, only half-heartedly looking up from the magazine. "But it'll cost you two sips."

"Go buy your own, mooch," Zitao huffs again, reaching over to pull the magazine down from the top. "Her is totally fake. Trust me. I'm an expert."

Sehun shoots him a glare, yanking the magazine away like Zitao'd just soiled a religious artifact. "Don't you have something better to do than disgrace my ladies?"

"No, I don't," Zitao grumbles bitterly, looking back at his phone. Joonmyun has responded to any of his texts, and even though he'd stopped sending them a week ago, Zitao's still rather pressed over it all. Joonmyun was one hell of a prospective daddy; cash, looks, and this awkward innocence that made him mildly endearing. Either he was playing Zitao hard or perhaps Zitao'd scared him away. Either option made Zitao irritated beyond belief. You don't just flush $3k a month down the drain.

Sehun snickers quietly, well aware of what's got Zitao's (figuratively) all up in a bunch. Zitao kicks him sharply beneath the table, but his aim is off, and he hits Jongin's shin instead.

"Ow, what the hell!" Jongin whines, pulling his leg up to nurse the already bruising hairy leg visible from beneath his shorts. Sehun glances down at it only to furrow his brow.

"Where are your shoes?" he complains quietly. Jongin blinks up at him like he hadn't heard him correctly. Zitao frowns and leans over the table before sitting back in disgust. "Where are your socks?!"

Jongin merely shrugs, pouting at his injury instead, toes wriggling in sympathy for his bruising leg.

---

Sixteen days from his date with Tao, Joonmyun caves and pulls his phone from the file cabinent he'd tried to lock it in and texts the blonde haired deviant. It's three in the morning and his eyes are red and the bags beneath them are dark.

Are you awake?

Almost immediately, his phone beeps in response.

who is this??

Joonmyun's heart plummets and he immediately regrets texting, skin prickling and mouth filling with a weird stale taste; the same one as the night in the hotel.

Sorry to bother you. Must have the wrong number.

He tries to toss his phone onto his desk, but fumbles as it beeps before it leaves his hand entirely. 

i was kidding. relax! you had me a little worried~.

With a dry mouth, Joonmyun sits down in his desk chair, eyes glued to his phone.

I'm sorry. I got really busy with work...Are you busy on Thursday?

'I want to see you,' lingers in the back of his mind, but he steadily ignores it. He doesn't want to sound more desperate than he already does.

There's no response for a few minutes, but it comes all the same.

i can do thursday lunch. i have class at 4.

Lunch works. Lunch is great. I'll see you at Lunch.

;] night.

Goodnight.

Joonmyun drops his phone on the stack of papers on his desk and hides his face in his arms, slumping in his chair. He feels like he's beginning to lose his sanity.

---

Thursday comes sooner than he'd realized, and before he knows it, Joonmyun's nervously tapping his fingers on the table cloth of the quaint little cafe Tao'd picked out. Glancing at his watch for the seventh time in the past ten minutes, he takes another gulp of water. It's five minutes til two, and Joonmyun's starting to let his brain get the better of him, convinced Tao isn't going to show up. 

Despite his paranoia, the blonde slides into his place across from him at exactly 2:01 with a pleasant smile and a cashmere scarf tied neatly around his neck, tucked into a jacket that Joonmyun's pretty sure he bought the other. 

"Sorry I'm late," comes that thick accent and it hits Joonmyun like a truck, heart aching again. The stress from work is really getting to him, obviously. Nonconspicuously reaching up, he rubs idly at his chest to soothe the ache and shakes his head, beaming. "It's okay. Really."

"Let's eat. I'm starving," Tao laughs gently. Joonmyun nods hurriedly, trying to appear comfortable and dropping a hand to rest on the table as the other flips through his menu.

At some point in the silence between them, a soft touch to his hand nearly makes him jump, and Joonmyun glances up nervously. Tao's hand quietly slides into place over his, naturally, and he doesn't even lift his eyes from the menu, though there's a small smirk on his lips. 

Joonmyun his lips and tries to calm himself, not saying anything and trying his best to focus on the menu.

Once their food arrives, Tao finally pulls his hand back and Joonmyun can think just that little bit more clearly. Tao's forking a bit more salad when Joonmyun lets his fork clatter to his plate. The blonde looks up at Joonmyun, blinking in slight surprise, and Joonmyun thinks he might be lost in those sharp eyes again.

"Six thousand," he states suddenly. Tao raises a brow, clearly not following what Joonmyun said, and the brunette wonders if his pronounciation made it hard to understand. "Six th-ousa-," he starts, slower.

"I understood you," Tao snorts slightly, setting his fork down. "Six thousand, what?"

"Six thousand dollars." Joonmyun clears his throat a little and looks out the window shyly. "I want to give you six thousand, instead of three." Tao raises both brows this time, a slow grin overtaking his lips.

"Why? Was I that good?" he teases and Joonmyun turns redder than the cherry tomatoes on Tao's plate, much to the other's amusement (his giggles sound like windchimes to Joonmyun. They cut through all of the restaurant's idle chatter.). 

"It's not because of that," he mutters sheepishly, rubbing at his cheek slightly. "I just think you deserve more than three."

There's a silence that hangs in the air between them before Tao hums, pleased, and reaches over to take both of Joonmyun's hands. The brunette swallows, glancing around nervously. He feels like the entire cafe is watching them even though not a single person is paying them even the slightest bit of attention.

"Okay, daddy~. I certainly won't say no," Tao purrs out lowly, just for Joonmyun to hear. Joonmyun gurgles slightly at that, turning redder if possible.

Tao goes back to his salad, grinning ear to ear, and Joonmyun finds it hard to eat if only because he can't tear his eyes from Tao's face.

---

"...What are you doing?" Sehun grumbles slightly in confusion at the clothes littering their living room floor. There's piles and mis-matched coordinates and way too many shoes. Sehun spots a nice pair of Jordans and silently snatches them, stuffing them in the couch cushion to retrieve for himself later. Zitao won't even notice.

"Trying to find something to wear," Zitao sighs, holding up a long leather and wool jacket against himself in front of the shabby four foot mirror he's leaned against the wall. Turning around, he tilts his head, inquiring Sehun's opinion.

"Too girly."

Zitao glares and tosses the jacket away regardless, moving to pick through sweaters. Sehun picks it up to also take to his room. He lied. 

"You should wear the ivory one. stains won't be as noticable when you leave," Sehun beams at the other, as if he's truly helping.

Surprisingly, Zitao seems to consider this. "You're right. It looks good on my skintone, anyways."

With a shrug, Sehun grabs his stolen treasure and hurries off to his room to stuff the items into his closet.

---

Things become easier over the next couple weeks, and by the start of the third one, Tao and Joonmyun are texting regularly. It actually begins to annoy Yifan, and during one of their consolations with the payroll department, he reaches over and pockets the phone for the rest of the meeting, much to Joonmyun's disappointment. 

By the time they're finished and the employees are dismissed, Joonmyun digs into Yifan's pocket for his phone, hurriedly checking his text messages. Yifan rolls his eyes, laughing.

"You're worse than a highschool girl with a crush," he bemuses, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Joonmyun waves him off and responds to Tao's newest message.

"He says he needs some money for a pair of shoes he really wanted," Joonmyun meanders in his chair as well, switching to his bank app to wire the blonde some money.

"My wife says that too. She comes home with a lot more than a pair of shoes," Yifan grumbles, picking up a pen to doodle idly on a post-it note. "Who needs that many shoes? Who. She has enough shoes to single-handedly cover the feet of every homeless bum in New York City." Yifan scribbles his rhino out angrily.

"Did you say something?" Joonmyun wasn't listening, sending the money and happily switching back to his text messages. Yifan just stares at him, blankly.

"She says that too."

"Says what?" Joonmyun actually looks up this time, sparing Yifan a few moments of his time. Yifan's mouth slacks to the side slightly before he's stretching and standing up.

"The Spring party's coming up. You should bring your boy toy." Joonmyun immediately pales at the statement and sets his phone down, looking away. Yifan sighs, moving to sit on the table beside Joonmyun's chair, peering down at him.

"Look, you can't hide in the closet forever, Joonmyun. I mean...Listen to me, I'm your best friend. We're in New York, okay? This is the last place you're gonna get judged." Yifan reaches down to place a large hand on the brunette's shoulder. Joonmyun swallows a bit.

"It's not that easy, okay? What if some of our clients are homophobic? Or I mean, what if it hits the papers, and then our name gets tarnished -- there's just a lot of stuff we've worked for to just throw away over some dumb party, okay," Joonmyun rambles, fingers drumming nervously on the table. His phone buzzes with a new message and he instinctively reaches for it. Yifan covers it briefly with his hand.

"Hey...Listen to me," his voice softens, resorting back to that best friend tone they'd used in college before money turned them into corporate giants. Joonmyun glances up, frowning gently. "Nobody's gonna care. I promise you. You're being silly. Just consider it, okay? I'm tired of you awkwardly bumming around alone. That's worse for our image than you having a thing for guys."

Joonmyun doesn't say anything at first, but slowly he nods, and soon he's letting out a sigh. "Okay. I'll think about taking him." Yifan, pleased, uncovers Joonmyun's phone and pats the older man's head.

"Good," he slides from the table, straightening his tie. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have interns to check up on." With a greasy grin, he salutes Joonmyun and departs.

Joonmyun waves him off, too weary to try to save Jongdae today, instead picking up his phone to open Zitao's message.

thank you so much daddy!! <3 you have no idea how happy this made me~.

Joonmyun smiles quietly to himself and turns to peer out the window.