Chapter Text
WHITE
White is in the middle of the worst date of his life when their waiter, perfectly professional until now, pauses by their table, looks between them slowly, and then “accidentally” tips an entire bowl of salad over the head of his date.
A hush falls over the restaurant. White watches, wide-eyed and fascinated, as the man opposite him turns bright red.
It’s comical when coupled with the lettuce sticking out of his hair.
“Oops,” the waiter says, utterly unrepentant.
It’s not a surprise when White’s date demands a manager.
The waiter shrugs, disappears into the kitchen, and reappears a moment later with an older man in an expensive suit. White’s date leaps to his feet and wastes no time in launching into an impressive diatribe.
The waiter, not paying any mind to this spectacle, leans down and murmurs to White, “Are you okay?”
White frowns.
The waiter elaborates. “You looked uncomfortable. And I saw his hands wandering under the table.”
Oh.
“I’m alright,” White says, touched. He glances to where the manager is fretting and trying to calm down the angry patron still venting at him. “You’re not going to get in trouble over this, are you?”
“Oh, they’re probably going to fire me,” the waiter says casually. At White’s horrified look, he adds, “It’s fine. This was a crap job anyway.”
He looks at White, tilts his head, and smirks.
“Wanna get out of here?” He asks, and offers White his hand.
The waiter—Sean—takes him to a spot by the water. It’s quiet and calm, with a gorgeous view of the city.
“I like to come here when I need to think,” Sean admits. “Or just get away for a while.”
He sits down at the edge, legs dangling over the water.
After a moment’s hesitation, White joins him.
“It’s nice,” White offers.
“Mm,” Sean agrees. He turns to look at White. “Can I ask you something?”
White nods.
“What were you doing with that guy at the restaurant? You seem way too nice to be out with a prick like that.”
White debates how much he wants to say.
“He’s a friend of my father’s,” he settles on. “He’s been… persistent. I didn’t really want to go out with him, but it would have reflected poorly on us if I refused.”
Sean’s eyebrows raise. “He sounds like a dick.”
Feeling bold, White responds, “My date? Or my father?”
“Either. Both. Pick one.”
It makes White laugh. The honesty feels good after a night spent holding his tongue.
“You should tell your father to fuck off and dump that asshole,” Sean continues. “You deserve someone better.”
White gives him a long, thoughtful look. “Someone like you?”
Sean looks startled. His laugh is rough, like it’s punched out of him, but also somehow charming. “Fuck no. I’m a terrible influence. And I’m probably unemployed now. You could definitely do better.”
The way he’s looking at White—intense, searching, interested—gives him away.
White shuffles closer. “My brother’s always saying I need to be a little more rebellious.”
“Terrible advice,” Sean admonishes, even as he sets a hand against the small of White’s back and leans in.
White stays out with Sean for hours, long enough that the house is dark and quiet when he finally sneaks back home.
It’s after two in the morning. Any sane person would be asleep.
White is not surprised when he slips into his bedroom and finds his brother sitting on his bed.
Black gives him a quick glance over, the way he always does when White’s been out of his sight for any length of time. White is half-expecting his twin to start hassling him over the late hour, but Black just cocks his head to one side, narrows his eyes, and says, “You look happy.”
White makes a non-committal noise.
Black presses, “Does that happy have anything to do with the fact that the Ambassador had to spend 45 minutes trying to calm down his dear pervy friend Khun Thon?”
White winces. “How bad was it?”
“I’m pretty sure the old man nearly had a stroke.” Black grins viciously. “It was the funniest shit I’ve seen all year. Did you really ditch Thon for the waiter?”
“…maybe.”
Black cackles. “I didn’t think you had it in you, nong.”
White ducks his head at the praise and retreats to the bathroom to shower and change into his pajamas. Black is still there when he emerges. He shows no sign of moving, so White crawls around him and settles into the empty spot on the other side of the bed.
Neither of them speak for several minutes. White is starting to drift off when Black asks, “Was the waiter a better date, at least?”
White’s thoughts drift back to Sean: the soft look on his face when he listened to White talk; the quirk of his eyebrow when he teased; the way his shoulders shook when White made him laugh.
The taste of him, and the burn of his touch when he’d slipped his hands under White’s shirt and brushed his fingers along White’s ribs.
White is certain his face is on fire as he admits, breathless, “The best.”
SEAN
Sean doesn’t go into work that evening expecting to be walking out minus a job and plus a cute rich boy, but he’s not complaining.
White is fascinating. Sweet, too nice by half, but also whip-smart, with a sense of humor so wickedly sharp it has Sean fighting back laughter for most of the night. He’s clever on top of it all, and the minute Sean notices that is the minute he realizes he’s done for.
Sean expects him to be shy. Instead, White kisses like he wants to drown in it, clinging to Sean’s shoulders and making encouraging little noises when Sean goes searching for skin.
It’s one of the best nights of Sean’s life.
He drives White home, after, and the deeper they get into the wealthy neighborhoods, the more Sean realizes rich boy was maybe an understatement.
White asks him to pull over by a street corner that’s not close to any house in particular.
“Embarrassed?” Sean asks as he takes his spare helmet back.
He’s not offended; he’d be embarrassed to be seen with someone like him too, if he came from the kind of background White apparently does.
But White just shakes his head.
“My father has money and reputation to burn,” he explains. “And he’s going to be on the warpath. Better for you if he doesn’t know you exist.”
Sean frowns. “Are you going to be okay?”
White shrugs. “It’s not the first time I’ve disappointed him,” he says cryptically.
That doesn’t make Sean feel better, but it’s not his life, and as fun as tonight has been, White isn’t his to worry about.
Or that’s what he thinks, anyway, right up until White reels him in for another scorching kiss.
“Call me?” White requests when they part, arms still wound around Sean’s neck.
It takes Sean’s brain a minute to reboot. “Uh…”
“You have my number.”
“I… do?”
“I snuck it in to your phone before we left the waterfront.” White gives him a sly little smile even as a blush pinks his cheeks, and Sean’s stomach flips.
God, he’s in trouble.
“Okay,” he agrees weakly.
White beams, presses one last kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then he’s walking away, leaving Sean weak-kneed and struggling not to turn into a puddle in his wake.
Two days later, he still hasn’t worked up the courage to call or text.
It’s not because he doesn’t think White is interested. Sean knows he is. That night by the water proved it. It’s just…
Sean knows White can do so much better.
In the end, though, he can’t help himself. White is too much of a good thing to let pass him by. If he’s willing to slum it with someone like Sean, Sean is certainly not going to say no.
White texts him back a few hours later, when Sean is taking a break from the odd-job he’s picked up for the night, and Sean has to sit down when he opens it, because even the way White texts is cute. He uses capital letters and punctuation, even. Sean can’t—
“Why are you looking at your phone like that?”
Sean jerks, looks up in surprise to find Yok watching him in interest. He feels a quick spark of guilt; he’d honestly forgotten his friend was even there, keeping him company while he works through a miserable shift.
That guilt fades rapidly as he takes in Yok’s mischievous smirk.
“Nothing,” he says. He tries to hide his phone.
Not fast enough.
Yok darts for it. They scuffle. Sean manages to pin him, but Yok fights dirty, digging an elbow into his ribs and plucking the phone from him.
“Don’t—Ai’Yok!” Sean complains, to no avail as Yok scurries away.
“Oooh, White. Look, there’s even a little heart by his name!” Sean swats at him and Yok ducks. “Is this that rich kid from the other night?” Yok looks up him. His face lights up with laughter. “It is! Sean’s got a crush! I can’t wait to tell P’Dan—”
Sean sighs in resignation, bracing himself for the onslaught of teasing he knows has only just begun.
WHITE
White is right, in the end: his father does go on the warpath. White sits through lecture after lecture over the next two days, the topics ranging from do you know what this could do to our reputation to think of your future, son!
“Didn’t realize you would get so much shit for it,” Sean says, looking contrite.
White shrugs and reaches for the flask they’ve been passing back and forth for the last hour. They’re by the water again, enjoying the cool night air and the way the city looks reflected in the waves.
It’s one of the cheapest dates White has ever been on.
He’s having a great time.
“It’s fine,” he says. “My brother told him that he’s planning on getting a new, extremely visible tattoo, so he’s too distracted by that to bother with me for the moment.”
Sean snorts, amused, but his expression quickly turns curious. “You said that you’d disappointed him before.”
White takes a long drink and grimaces as he swallows.
“He wants me to do what he does,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Follow in his footsteps, be his legacy.” He’s quiet, thoughtful, as he continues, “For a long time, I was convinced I wanted that too. I got the degree he wanted, took the exams to qualify for an internship.”
Sean’s hand is warm, encouraging, where it settles on his knee. “What changed?”
White looks up at the sky as he recalls, “The last step was an interview. It was supposed to be competitive. Cutthroat even. But when I got there, the man giving it was a friend of my father’s. It was rigged from the start. I realized I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be part of a system like that.” He shrugs. “So I told the truth, rather than what they wanted to hear. And I should have failed for it, but my father made sure I didn’t.”
“What happened?”
He gives a wry grin. “I refused to do the job. My father’s still convinced I’ll ‘come to my senses’ at some point. Technically the position is still being held for me, but it’s costing him a lot of political clout to keep it that way. It’s… a point of contention.”
Sean mulls this over.
“Yeah,” he says. “Your dad still sounds like a dick to me.”
White laughs.
“He has good intentions,” he insists. “He just… forgets, sometimes, that what he wants for me doesn’t always match up with what I want for myself.”
Sean brushes gentle knuckles against his cheek. “And what do you want for yourself?”
White tilts his head and smiles. “Kiss me?”
Sean obliges. He tastes like cheap whiskey and something vaguely spicy, and White chases after him with a noise of protest when they part. Sean leans back with a smug look.
“Anything else?”
“I can think of a few things,” White assures. He curls a hand into Sean’s collar and tugs him closer, eagerly pressing his lips to Sean’s smirking mouth.
Family dinners are always an interesting endeavor.
White’s current tension with their father is a new development, but Black has spent years cultivating the perfect methodology for getting under the older man’s skin, and he approaches every shared meal with a level of chaotic glee that White has to marvel at.
Tonight he’s regaling them with information about the target of his latest activism cause.
That this person happens to be a close associate of their father’s is pure coincidence, White is sure.
“Nuch thinks the protests could last for weeks,” Black concludes, looking smug.
Adul’s grip on his fork and spoon tighten. There’s a twitch developing along his left eyebrow that gets worse every time Black does this. It’s probably not healthy.
His self-control is impressive, however; he takes a breath, deliberately relaxes, and focuses on White instead.
“I understand you’re still seeing that boy from the restaurant.”
It feels like a trap.
White says, cautiously, “Yes.”
Adul’s expression gives nothing away. “It’s been a few months.” When White doesn’t respond, he frowns, adding, “I thought you would have gotten this out of your system by now, son.”
There it is.
White’s not sure why he’s disappointed. He knew his father’s patience would run out eventually.
Still.
“There’s nothing to ‘get out of my system’,” White replies, carefully neutral even as anger starts to simmer under his skin. “I like Sean. I enjoy spending time with him. And he treats me well.”
The last part is perhaps a bit pointed. It’s effective, though. His father snaps his mouth shut and sits in silence for several minutes, mulling this over.
“Well,” he says eventually. “I suppose it’s time I met him, then.”
White freezes. Beside him, Black starts choking on his food. “I’m sorry?”
“Invite him over for dinner. This weekend.”
It’s not a request.
White looks at Black in a panic, but even his brother seems caught off guard.
Dread sets into the pit of his stomach.
This won’t end well.