Archive of Our Own

    “One more round!” Suho's boss cheers, already pushing the bottle in his direction. This time, he really can't take it. 

     “I'm going to sit this one out- wooyoung, do you know where the restroom is?” He asks, looking to his coworker with an attempt to cover his pout. 

      The man nods and points in the general direction, so he bows and takes his leave. As soon as he is out of sight, he pays his portion of the bill and slips out of the building without a hitch, disappearing into the night.

      He's thankful for the fact that he didn't drive to work today, because he can't drive back home tonight, and the hangover tomorrow would make a walk to work nightmarish. Plus, the cool air is refreshing tonight, approaching the line that defines the atmosphere as too cold. The bite is enough to keep him sober-ish, an incredibly useful state of mind since he's not actually been to this part of the city before.

     He needs his wits about him if he wants to make it home safely, all sorts of crimes happen after dark around here.

      The alcohol makes him laugh at his own thought. What could he possibly do if he encountered a gang member? He's not that clever. His wits will have nothing to do with whether they kill him, it's based on their whims alone. 

       He's knocked out of his thought process when a man speedwalks past him, accidentally bumping his shoulder with force as he's thoroughly distracted by whoever he's texting.

      “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes instinctively, pulling into himself to take up less space on the sidewalk. 

      Unexpectedly, the hurried man pauses. Upon hearing the halted footsteps, the drunken man pauses as well, tossing a careful glance to the stranger who had turned to look at him.

        “Did you just say sorry?” He asks, voice heavy with disbelief. He turns his entire body to face suho, a grin growing across his face, unusually gummy due to his short teeth. “Aish, it felt like hitting a brick wall, too.” He complains, moving his arm to test his apparently injured shoulder. 

         “Sorry, I shouldn't have been moving so slowly,” suho admits, offering a small bow. Anyone around here could be dangerous, and he's just drunk enough to not trust his ability to defend himself. Being too cautious could save his ass from any unnecessary fights. 

        The man keeps the smile tugging at his lips while he looks over the inebriated more carefully. “You're actually sorry, but you're built like a fortress?” He laughs, stepping to the side, leaving the concrete space open. “I like you. Go on ahead of me, you've earned it.”

        “Earned it?” Suho asks quietly, cautiously following the orders he'd been given. He keeps his eye on the stranger, but avoids eye contact once they're within grabbing distance.

         He partially expected the next part, which is why he didn't flinch very much when his windbreaker was grabbed and he was shoved into the wall beside them. 

         “You're not from around here,” the other notes. It's not a question, he already knows, but it didn't sound as unkind as it should have either. A hand releases his jacket and grips his chin, forcing eye contact. “You don't know who I am, either.” The other hand presses his abdomen, then shoots up to grip his biceps. “Thought so. Firm. You're strong.”

        As weird as it is, the encounter feels less like a threat and more like someone who's not used to friendly conversations trying to get to know him. So, he goes with it, forcing himself to look down the path he came from while he gets the strangest pat down of his life. 

       “Name?” The question eventually comes out after several moments of more muttered observations. 

       He blinks for a moment before replying. “Uh… ahn suho, and who are you?” He asks, voice falling from his lips in a tone too soft to express anything but sheer intimidation. 

       The man laughs again, leaning to press his forehead into suho's chest until he can catch his breath. Suho stays as still as possible. 

       “They call me the wolf. I'll let you learn my name without tasting my blade tonight, I like you that much.” He admits, grinning widely, like he didn't explain the scariest thing suho could hear. Everyone has heard of the wolf. He's the bloodhound for the gang that owned this part of the city. Snake- or something. He can't quite remember, but he's also incredibly drunk, so he'll give himself a pass. “I'll actually let you pass this time, ahn suho. Maybe we could chat over a drink or two when you're less… inebriated.”

     He blinks, trying to process everything, before giving up. “Sure. Sorry again,” he murmurs, offering another, deeper, bow before starting his path back home again. A little faster this time.

      “And stop saying that! I'm the one who hit you!” The wolf calls after him. It takes the entirety of his self-control to not respond with another apology.

       On the home stretch to his apartment, he passes a dark alleyway. It isn't much different from the last several dozen he'd passed. It's impossible to see into, intimidating, tight, and smells like old blood and cigarette smoke. 

      In almost any situation imaginable, this particular alleyway would never grab his attention, let alone force him to stop in front of it.

     But the adrenaline freezing in his alcohol-ridden veins have him stood still, staring into the mouth of the chasm like he's ready to walk into the belly of the beast. 

     He's not ready, not by any means, but a second whimper sounding from inside is enough to force his feet forward, dragging his bodyweight into the unseen reaches of the space. 

      Eventually, his feet hit something, earning a disgruntled hiss. Distinctly human, but hardly conscious. 

       “Hey, are you okay?” He asks, crouching with his hand against the wall until he can figure out how this person is situated. He first finds a shoulder, and is able to follow the back, down to the legs. It seems like they were sat up against the wall, but eventually slumped to the floor while curling up in pain. There was a wet spot on the right side… his right, their left. 

        With no response, he takes what little he remembers from his favourite drama into action. He puts his hand against the person's nose. Shallow breathing. A pulse check gives him a rough, speedy rhythm that (when compared to his own) felt incredibly abnormal and concerning. 

     He tried one more time to get a response, but he's not even afforded a whine. 

      Doctors do cpr without permission all the time. Does that apply to only cpr? Or any life saving medical intervention? 

      Is it only for doctors?

      Well, it's not like the person is awake to complain. The main worries with being taken by a stranger for medical help is the fear of being taken advantage of… and suho knows he's not a bad guy. 

      That in mind, he scoops the injured person off the ground and picks them up. Once they're in the light, he'll decide if they have to go to a hospital or if he can patch them up at home. 

       Almost immediately, he notices just how light the body is. He'll have to feed them well, too. Would they enjoy a protein shake when they wake up? Or should they have something gentle like rice?

       He'll have both ready, just in case. 

       “Holy shit,” suho mutters under his breath, watching the light finally catch onto what he was holding. He's not entirely sure what he was reacting to- the knife wound in the victim's side, or the absolute gorgeous nature of the boy in his arms. 

       He's not sure what about his drunken stupor made the universe allow him to carry the pretty thing home instead of the wolf, but he's grateful for it. The wolf guy is too flirty- too touchy for a twink like this to feel comfortable in a stranger's bed. 

      Suho is better suited for this job.

      With that thought, his chest swells with pride as he speeds up his steps to carry his new patient home. 

       Doctor ahn is on the case.

     Doctor ahn has lost his imaginary medical license about twenty minutes after acquiring it. It was a miracle that he got through the apartment lobby without anyone noticing the injuries on the boy he was carrying, and even more miraculous was the fact that he's still alive after sitting on the kitchen countertop unattended as suho rummaged through his boxes of things he never bothered to unpack. He needed that medkit and knew it was somewhere near the box of old notebooks. 

       He did find it, but his room was a mess, and the isopropyl alcohol was only about half full. 

      Did he deserve the chance to treat this gorgeous man after his failure to complete simple preparation tasks? Probably not. Was this person going to make it if he didn't get treatment now? Also probably not.

      Is there anyone else around who could help? Suho would hope not, he lives alone. 

      So, he gets to work. He only lifts the shirt to the point he needs before dabbing some alcohol onto a cloth and gently applies it to the wound. Okay. That's not enough to clean it. It'll take forever and he'll bleed out and die and he'll have to explain to the police why he has a dead man in his house and why he's exactly suho’s type and-

     Okay, he needs to breathe. 

     It's just like… sterilizing water. So maybe he could pour a little on the wound and- unconscious people can flinch. That probably means it hurts, right? 

      He puts the cap back on the alcohol and sighs, scrubbing his face with the heels of his hands. 

      Okay. He needs a plan b, soap and water, probably. 

       Can a sponge bath work in here? The countertop isn't really long, so bloody soap water will get on the floor. He's not sure how well that would clean out, the ceramic tile stains pretty easily and it's not like he has the time to bleach treat it right now.

       He can't just bandage the wound without cleaning it well, it'll surely get infected. Who knows where else the offending knife has been?! 

       “Shit, okay,” he hisses, scooping the body back into his arms and moving it to the tub, having the mind to use a towel as a pillow to keep his head from banging around.

       He starts the tub faucet running, not plugging the drain so the water has a chance to become a bearable temperature while he gets changed. 

      It would be incredibly uncomfortable to get his work clothes wet, which naturally means he should change into his swim gear if he intends to help a limp body bathe properly. 

      After quickly changing, he looks back into his bathroom. For a second, he could've sworn he saw the man's eyes open. “Are you awake?” He tries, expectedly getting no response. 

      But he did like talking to his unfortunate patient. It made him feel more like he was taking care of someone, rather than handling a rather unwieldy doll. “Alright,” he sighs, plugging the drain and moving to crouch in the tub in front of the other, straddling his legs awkwardly. “That shirt has to go, I think. It's soaked in blood,” he explains, mostly to himself. 

       He's not sure if he's ready for this, he would much rather bathe a fully clothed twink, but medical necessity shouldn't outrank his preferences and comfort. 

       With a deep breath to steel his nerves, he leans forward and gently tugs the buttons apart, one by one, until he is able to grab the back, maneuver it around the limp head, and slide the sleeves over the drooping arms. The pride he felt in his good work was fading fast when he saw what was underneath. A small array of scars, yes, a wound that looked pretty bad, of course… but also a little squishy belly.

     Suho can feel his face heat up immensely as he reaches to grab a washing cloth and coat it with a fair amount of soap. Naturally, he cleans the wound, before worrying about grime around the wound getting into it.

      After a few minutes, the patient's entire upper torso was scrubbed with a clinical precision. It wasn't until he was draining the bath that he noticed that his process would've included running his hands over that enticing abdomen. Just the thought makes him squirm a little too much, he can't believe he did it. 

       But he shakes his head resolutely, pressing a disposable towel over the wound, and wrapping his softest towel over the rest of the exposed torso. Then, he grabs his kit and gets to work, with the area now clean and dry. 

      First he should grab some gauze. That's fine, there's plenty. 

      He searches the package for instructions, on the off chance that they're prepared for idiots like him handling emergency situations. Instead, he's met with something far more concerning. An expiration date. 

       It's dated for five years ago.

       What the hell could even expire in gauze? It's cloth! 

       With a scoff, he opens the package. It looks fine. He even gives it a sniff and a poke, it smells and feels fine. 

      Regardless, he looks through other packs until he finds the most recent date. This one expired a few months ago. That's probably better to use, right? Less expired gauze?

       He'll go to the store and buy new gauze in the morning. What else should he check for an expiration date? The sports tape? The alcohol? 

       With less tact than he'd prefer, he manages to lightly pack the wound with gauze, pushing down with firm pressure for a handful of minutes. He's not sure exactly how long he's meant to hold it down, so he relies on his questionable instinct, and then doubles that time. 

      After that, he adds a second layer of gauze, slightly more expired, since it's not in contact with the open wound, and presses that down as well. Then, he grabs the roller tape and tapes it down, using extra layers, just to make sure it stays.

        Now that the abdomen is covered, he can burrito the patient in the fluffy towel, uncomfortably deciding to also slide the bottoms off, since they're dirty and now soaking wet. 

      So he carefully does so, only looking to make sure he gets all of the fastening measures before covering the area with the towel, and quickly pulling. Thankfully, the undergarments did not come with it. He truly wasn't sure how he'd handle that.

       With the hard part out of the way, he wraps the towel tighter, to make sure it dries off the remaining fabric, and also make sure it doesn't slip while maneuvering.

       “I didn't look, I swear,” he mutters to nobody in particular while he grabs his trusty plastic washbasin. He fills it with water, checks the temperature, and maneuvers it to the head of the tub. Carefully, he adjusts the limp neck to rest mostly on the towel, letting the head dip the hair into the water. 

       He gets to work, gently scrubbing through the hair. It feels awkward in the silence, so he tries to fill it. “Your hair's caked in blood, it needs to be clean so I can tell if it's spare blood from your wound or another injury. Honestly if it's an injury, I might have to take you to a hospital instead. Head injuries aren't for amateur hour. But I'm drunk and you're sporting a nasty stab wound, so I'd rather avoid trying to explain that without it sounding like a reportable offense.”

         He sighs, happy to get that off his chest, and equally happy with how the suds have worked out most of the grime. 

       He dumps the basin's contents into the sink and refills it, using the clean water to finish the rinse, more than gleeful to see the water, that he cups with his hands to pour just above the patient's forehead, running clear with only vague suds floating around. 

       “Great- or terrible- news, it's not a head injury. Your hair was just gross,” he announces, finishing the rinse quickly and grabbing a smaller towel to dry off the man's hair. 

      Once it's satisfactory, he adjusts the head to a more comfortable position on the towel pillow and leaves the bathroom again, this time, on a mission. 

       He scrambles through his dresser, finding the softest, tightest-fitting clothes that he owns. 

      Eventually, he settles on a sleepwear set that he's been meaning to get rid of. He ordered it a size too small, it almost rips if he moves in it. It's probably still too big for the person unconscious in his bathtub, but it's also probably the closest, comfiest fit. 

     He returns with the clothes in hand, and he swears the head turned on its own. Maybe the slackness is what made him face the door suddenly? He's not sure how ragdoll physics work on people. 

     The slight scare serves as a good reminder to work quickly, though. 

He shifts the towel to drape over the other like a blanket, and very carefully threads both legs through the bottoms, and pushes them up. After that, he slides the fluffy cover down so he can put the top on properly.

       The moment of truth. 

      He carefully sits back, and pulls the towel off. Everything is fairly covered. Only a little waistband is peeking from below the hem of the shirt, making the mission feel successful. 

      He has another problem to handle though.

      Suho is a fairly strong man. He has moral integrity and mental stability.

       Drunk suho is not that strong. Drunk suho sees a twink that's just his type, that smells like his soap, that's asleep in his home, and dressed in his clothes. Sober suho would never repeat the debauched comments that have been made by Drunk suho's inner voice during this entire ordeal.

       With another deep breath, he gathers the other into his arms again. He hates how natural it feels as he carries the limp body to his bed, tucking the other under the warm covers, hoping they're enough to help with some of the shock from being stabbed. 

       Well, he should start cleaning the blood from the kitchen, then he can cook in a sanitary environment. He'll have to call in sick for work in the morning. 

   In about four hours, he managed to put the bloody clothes in the wash (with treatment for the blood, of course), scrub the kitchen clean and disinfect every surface, take a quick shower, and make a small meal of rice and steamed pea pods, alongside a protein shake. 

    As quietly as possible, he delivers the two items to the bedside table, taking a moment to inspect the state of the stranger in his bed. He looks especially cute, now that he's clean. His hair is fluffy and sits well on his face, moving with soft puffs of breath.

     Most noticeable, though, is the fact that he's snoring. 

     It's an endearing sound, and soft enough that anyone could miss it if they weren't listening, but it's there. He's not involuntarily unconscious anymore, just asleep. He'll have breakfast ready when he wakes up, being stabbed must be exhausting. 

      Since it's a reasonable hour in the morning already, suho calls in sick to work, noting he must've had something off at the restaurant last night. His boss takes the news surprisingly well, leaving him once again in his silent apartment, alone with a stranger that he managed to keep from bleeding out. 

      A cute stranger. 

      No, that's not appropriate. He's in the middle of a medical emergency, this is no time to think with his dick. 

       He lets out a frustrated groan and tosses himself onto the couch, pulling up a video on his phone. Listening to some influencer talk about the housing market should get his mind off things.

       A thud forces suho awake with a gasp. It takes a moment for him to get his memories back, but eventually he figures out the situation. 

     He shoots up from the couch and pushes open the door, sure to not cross the doorway. He doesn't want to make it feel like an intrusion, he's just worried. 

       The first thing he noticed was the bowl of rice, which had the veggies picked off of the top now. So he likes pea pods, good to know.

       The second thing he notices was the man on the floor, on his knees and curled around the wound in clear pain. Painkillers! Why didn't he think of that?!

    He rushes through the room to get into the bathroom, where the medicine cabinet holds his supply. Anti-inflammatory? Probably not a topical solution… an analgesic? 

      Probably anti-inflammatory, right? Sure, he'll try that first.

      So he puts the right number of pills in the cap and brings it out to the still-kneeling man. “Here, painkillers,” he offers, placing the medicine into the reluctantly lifted hand before grabbing the protein shake and offering it. “Protein shake, you like chocolate, right?” He asks conversationally, moving to crouch a meter away from his patient.

      Pretty eyes slide up to meet his own. Cold and sharp, like the winter night. It sends a chill through his entire body, but the fire that burns behind suho's eyes proves to be enough to fight some of the biting chill away. It's tolerable. 

        “Is it drugged?” The question rips through aggravated vocal cords. What the hell has this guy been through?

       “You were just asleep for-” suho pauses to check his watch- “fourteen hours? Why the hell would I drug you after that? Being stagnant for much longer would be unhealthy,” he notes with a frown, offering a hand to help the other back onto the bed.

       “I smell like a soap I don't use and I'm wearing clothes that aren't mine, and I'm meant to think you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart?” The other snaps back, but he still takes the offer and drops onto the mattress with a pained groan. 

      “Alright then, use your senses. Does it feel or look like I've done anything aside from cleaning your upper body, dressing the wound, and changing you out of your blood-soaked clothes?” he retorts easily, eyes daring him to make an accusation. 

      He seems to think about it for a second, peeling the shirt up to notice the bandaging over the stab wound. “Not bad,” he appraises, poking the tape and flinching at the self-inflicted pain. “You still haven't explained why.”

       “Am I meant to ignore someone injured in an alleyway?” Suho snorts, leaning back against the dresser behind him. “I mean, you picked a scary ass place to bleed out in. I was drunk, but leaving someone to die doesn't sit right with any version of myself”

       “Why not a hospital?” He asks after a moment of silence. Man, if only he could hear what he was saying earlier. 

        “You had a knife wound, I was severely drunk… I'm pretty sure doctors are required to report that. If things got out of hand, like a head injury, I would've taken you to one. Anyone can pack a wound, though.” Suho shrugs, only to flinch as the hangover starts to make its presence known to him. He was so distracted, he forgot to feel the consequences of his own actions.

        When he manages to look back, the painkillers are gone. His eyes catch on the last moment of a tongue swiping across dry lips, collecting the stray drops into his mouth neatly. 

       Not even sober suho is strong enough to handle this battle.

       “Name,” the smaller hums. It's not a question, it's an order. 

        “Ahn suho.” He answers quickly, only pausing to think after the fact. “What's yours?”

        The other takes a moment, looking suho over like he's analyzing diagnostic criteria, before his lips part again. “My friends call me Sieun. Since I think we'll get along, call me that.”

        “That's a pretty name, fitting.” The admission slips out before he could even consider the consequences of his words. It's only when sieun's eyes widen that he notices the fact that he even said it out loud. Promptly, he jolts forward and mechanically speed-marches himself out of the room. “Sorry, I'll be out here,” he manages to call back before pulling the door shut and curling up in a far corner of the kitchen.

        It still smells like the likely toxic cleaning supplies that he had used earlier in the day. It's better than smelling like a crime scene, he supposes. 

        The ground needs to swallow him whole. He can't go on like this. He just fumbled in front of a cute boy, one exactly his type, when he was already opening up to suho and literally in his bed. 

        There's no hope for him anymore. He's dying alone. 

      When the earth refuses to retrieve his soul, suho scrambles to stand. He needs a distraction, and he needs an apology.

      Baking cookies would provide both.

      “Suho, right?” A voice asks from behind him, startling him enough to almost lose the cookies from the baking sheet in his hands. 

      Quickly, he sets the sheet on the cooling rack, before turning to face the source of the voice. He looks better. Obviously he's still dealing with the stab wound, but he seems to already be recovering. What a relief. 

       “Sorry about earlier,” he apologizes, head dropped in some mix of shame and defeat. He doesn't even know what he could say to fix this, and that's the only thing he's been thinking about since the incident. “Are the bandages holding up? I was going to head to the store soon for some fresh gauze, just-” he stops himself from making a request. It's a lot to ask of someone.

      “Just what?” Sieun asks, crossing his arms and moving to lean against the island between them. 

      “Just don't go while I'm out,” he sighs, defeated by his own heart. “I can drive you home once I'm back and we've retaped your bandages. I think I'd have an aneurysm if I let you walk home with a goddamn stab wound. Plus, your clothes are still in the dryer.”

       The shorter considers it, and his eyes slide over to the cookies, still trying to cool. “What are those for? Expecting company?”

      Suho nearly snickers at the concept. Letting someone into his home with such a gorgeous man here already? He would have to lose his mind first. 

         “Apology cookies,” he admits, feeling significantly more shy than he's ever felt before. “I should get going then. The cookies need another minute or so, but feel free to help yourself to them or anything in the fridge.” He explains, moving to slip on a coat and his shoes, and grabbing his helmet as he steps out the door. 

        The local pharmacy had a confusingly large selection of gauze types. Suho stuck with his gut and bought the ones with the furthest out expiration date. A new concern of his after last night's scare. 

        With a sigh, he unlocks the door. A good sign, sieun probably wouldn't think to re-lock the door if he left.

       His helmet is deposited onto its usual table and he starts his search through the house. Two cookies are missing from the tray, and the rice from earlier was eaten. Signs sieun has taken care of himself more, but no signs of the boy anywhere.

      He carefully walks through his house, finally hearing something from his bedroom. He approaches, but doesn't enter. Sieun sounds like he's on the phone.

       “No, I haven't forgiven you for abandoning me. You're lucky I was found by someone who wasn't a creep last night!” He scoffs, barely listening to the other side's retort before snapping. “Yes, I can fight off creeps, but not when I'm passing out from blood loss, you idiot,” he hisses, but something under his tone suggests the anger is short-lived. They must be close friends, then. 

      People in the office will sometimes talk in a similar manner if they're close enough. Apart from the group of guys he's the manager of, suho hasn't bothered to get that close with anyone. They'd probably have to butt heads down the line, especially if the other managers or his boss decide to abuse their power, which they always do. 

      His small team is enough for him, anyways. They're nice, energetic, and hardworking. A tightly knit group that works efficiently and still finds time to enjoy life.

      He should probably host a night out soon, he's been meaning to, but his desire to do that is always crushed by his own boss deciding to mandate another bar run. The only good thing to come of it is the fact he usually drinks enough to not remember how embarrassing his superior is. 

       “No, don't bother. He acted like he would drop dead if he didn't personally ensure I made it home safely,” he sighs, but it almost sounds fond. Oh shit. He carefully steps away and opens the front door again, as quiet as he was when he came in. 

        “yeah, he is. It's a little weird. I didn't think guys like that actually existed,” sieun started to explain, before suho closes the door loudly, ensuring the latch rattles. 

       “ugh. Sorry, the hangover is messing with my fine motor skills,” he admits half loudly. The way sieun quickly hangs up the call seems to suggest the plan worked. 

      He loudly places the bag in the entryway, approaching the rooms in the order he searched them before. 

       “sieun?” he asks softly, before finally entering the bedroom.

       The smaller is curled up under the sheets. Phone tucked away somewhere, light strewn across his face beautifully. He's pretending to be asleep. 

      Fake vulnerability, is this a message of trust, or a sign that he's used to lying to gain real trust?

       “it should be illegal to look that cute,” he sighs, moving to close the curtains and fix the covers on the other. Luckily, there's space beside him, and suho is exhausted. “Wake me up if you want anything,” he yawns, acting like he's talking more to the concept of sieun than the boy himself. 

        After convincing sieun to shower, suho returned the shorter's clothes, freshly cleaned, and redressed the wound. This time around, he had the opportunity to research the process beforehand, making it a lot easier to manage. 

        Luckily, the ride to sieun's place was short, which led suho to where he is now. Following the other like a lost puppy, head down in the rough looking neighborhood while the fearless twink leads him up another flight of stairs.

     Eventually, they walk down a hallway, and a door is knocked. 

     It gently slides open, revealing an unexpectedly familiar face. “Ah! Sieun-ssi, it's your own house, you don't need to knock,” juntae laughs, swinging the door open more to reveal a ragdoll cat, meowing incessantly.

     “I'm in the habit of knocking for her,” sieun explains, picking up the feline to silence the begging for attention. Closer up, suho notices the cat's heterochromia. It's quite cute. “How's my daughter been for you? Behaving, I hope?”

      “She's been nothing but a gem. A little sassy at times, but that's to be expected from a diva such as herself,” juntae explains with eager nods, offering a small chin scratch with a smile to the animal on question.

      “That sounds like my umut,” sieun praises, placing a kiss on the creature's forehead before stepping inside, gesturing for suho to follow him in. 

       “Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't even notice you were here. You know sieun-ssi?” juntae asks, finally pointing the conversation to the person he reports to at work. 

       “You've met before?” Sieun perks up, looking between the two like he can't imagine a world where the two coexist in the same space, let alone have a friendly relationship.

       “Yeah, this is my boss!” Juntae nods excitedly, immediately offering a small bow, like he suddenly remembered formalities. 

        Sieun casts suho a side glance. The coldest, most calculating stare yet, before looking back to juntae, head tilted in confusion. “This is the decrepit old man with no sense of class, no dignity, and no shame that you wish would just keel over and die a painf-”

      “No!” Juntae interrupts, throwing a hand over sieun's mouth before immediately withdrawing, an apology quick on his tongue. “No, god no, you'd smell that man coming before you see him. This is my other boss. The team manager I've talked about before?” He tries prompting.

     Suho's heart swoons at the thought that he's valuable enough to the sweet boy to be worth talking about, before he's derailed by another thought. That man seriously does smell, some mix of retirement home dust and flammable yeast from his age and century-long drinking problem. 

       He turns to suho again, appraising him for something, before he speaks to juntae again. His eyes stay on the taller, though. “That makes sense. He did seem like the type who'd get in trouble for someone else,” he admits, his blank expression cracking when he receives a confused blink in return. 

      Umut lets out a soft chirp from sieun's arms, requesting to be put down. 

       He obliges, and juntae takes the opportunity to redirect the conversation. “So, how was that business trip? You're home a few days early.”

        The man nods with a sigh. “It was nice, I suppose, up until the end,” he admits. An understatement if you'd ask suho. “At least I got enough done in the time that I had.”

        “What cut it short? And why are you with him, actually? Suho hyung is not the type to just go home with someone, and you're not the type to let someone in without a good reason.” 

      Juntae, ever the observant boy. 

       Sieun sighs, gesturing to bring the conversation to the couch. “It's actually how we met, I was going to dinner meeting and something happened. Suho found me unconscious in an alleyway and decided to take me to his home and make sure I was okay.” 

      Not quite the truth, but a reasonable lie of omission. Juntae is too wholesome, he might pass out if he learns someone he cares about had been severely injured in a violent attack.

      Juntae's eyes light up, and he looks to suho with a bright smile. 

       Oh no.

        He forgot. He's a storyteller.

        “Oh! Just like when gotak and I got too drunk and hyungie carried us both home and took care of us!” He exclaims, only to elaborate when sieun raises a brow at the subject matter. “Gogo ordered a fruity drink to have with me, because I was embarrassed to be the only one. It turns out, there's a lot more alcohol in those drinks. Suho hyung somehow carried us both to his home, on foot, and got us fed and cleaned and healthy enough to work the next morning.”

      “Don't make it sound like I did something heroic,” suho snorts, watching with glee as the cat prowls over and jumps onto his lap, asking for pets. He gladly obliges before continuing his thought. “My other option was leaving you alone in a bar, and that's just not right. Neither of you were coherent enough to know your address, which also meant you shouldn't be left alone. It was the only thing I could do.”

     “No it wasn't.” Juntae's tone falls, significantly more serious. “It's the only thing you would do. The reason you didn't see leaving us to sort ourselves out was because you wouldn't do that, not because you couldn't. Anyone could, it's actively the easiest thing to do.”

     “He's got a point,” sieun agrees, looking to suho. “You were unreasonably respectful to me and my privacy last night too, it took more effort than necessary to take those extra precautions. You made sure I couldn't possibly see you as a dangerous person. Thank you for that.”

       His efforts were noticed? 

       Suho's heart is about to pound out of his chest. 

       “Speaking of dangerous people, sieun-ssi, your scary friend came over today to tell me you'd be back early. He even paid me double what I asked for when we made our arrangements. What was that about?” Juntae asks, looking to sieun with his eyebrows drawn together.

       “Oh. Seongje,” he dismisses with a sigh. “He's harmless, he was just a bully in school and never really let go of that menacing look. I called him from suho's house, so he probably had the wrong idea. He does that a lot.”

     Juntae giggles as he seems to put together the details. Suho doesn't really get it, but he smiles at the sight regardless. It's nice to see him without that stressed crease in his forehead from work, his noisy coworkers, or both. The whole team deserves to laugh like this. 

      A new fire of determination sparks within him. Suho will be the best manager possible, and make team morale maintain a record high from now on. He can't stand seeing them so stressed, and it's not like he can't take that heat on their behalf. 

      “I'll get going, take care,” juntae sees himself out with a soft smile, waving as he exits and shuts the door behind him. 

       That was a little out of character for him. Tae is the type to stay until the party's over and tell his stories. Willingly stopping after one is not something he's seen, even during his job interview.

      “Umut likes you,” sieun notes, breaking the stale air. “She doesn't usually warm up to strangers this fast.”

      “Well, you smell like my soap and detergent. So us smelling similar and you being her most familiar face may have given me an unfair advantage over most strangers,” suho notes, grinning as he scratches under her chin and feels the vibrations from her purring. She's so incredibly precious. “You know, they say people always look a bit like their pets,” he notes, watching a set of big doe eyes look up at him from his lap, only to look to his side and see the same expression. 

      It takes a large amount of self control to not laugh at the blatant correctness of that belief. It takes even more of it to not kiss the corner of those dewy eyes. 

        Ahn suho is so embarrassingly down bad for this man.

        “She wears eyeliner better than I could,” sieun dismisses easily, waving him off and standing up. The idea of sieun wearing makeup shoves its way into his brain, before quickly sliding off. Too dangerous. 

     Suho immediately moves to follow, only to notice the flaw in his plan. Umut is still on top of him, demanding attention like the spoiled princess she is. As she should be. 

      The only girl he'll ever fall in love with. This cat deserves the world, and fittingly, she has something damn close to it. 

       Soft paw pads press up into his chest, kneading his sternum with tips of claws threatening to poke through the fabric, clearly visible. They never do, in fact she's very gentle about it, and seems to be aware of how pressure on her paws can force her claws out. The threat still feels real, and it takes a minute to let trust release the tension of worry in his back. 

       It reminds him of the dangerous edge sieun seems to carry. He doesn't necessarily expect to be on the ugly side of that edge, but he still carries a healthy fear of it. He's not sure how deep it goes, but it's something he's not wanting to play with. 

       Her soft purrs that never seem to let up, on the other hand, alongside her mindful nature and intention to be gentle? It's also clearly reflective of sieun. He definitely could have- and probably should have- been far more apprehensive of suho. Maybe taking a knife from the kitchen, or running away when suho had his guard down. Something, at the very least. 

        Instead, he asked questions and took suho at his word, like he already did some infallible investigation that had proven him trustworthy.

      And the things he said on the phone, or just now with juntae? How did he sound so sure that suho had pure intentions? Even suho himself wasn't entirely sure. He was drunk off his ass and saw a cute boy in need. He could very well have been considering less than pure outcomes. 

       God, he can't keep drinking like that. Didn't he run across a mobster last night?! He didn't even fight, he just sat there and let his muscles get fondled by that weird man. 

       What was it that the wolf said? It felt important. Something about liking suho… he was going in the same direction. There was a high likelihood that if he didn't stop to interact with suho, he would've gotten to sieun first. 

      He feels sick at just the thought, before a small layer of jealousy coats the feelings like a glaze. He can't imagine what would've happened with someone like that instead of himself. He can, but he really doesn't want to.

     “Come on, you can sleep after eating. I made hangover cure soup,” an angelic voice argues with him. He's not sure what he said, frankly, but that tone tastes so much better than any food could. 

      Reluctantly, he eventually sits the rest of the way up, quickly noticing that he doesn't own any furniture that has this leathery feel. 

    His eyes shoot open, only to be met with the sight of a gorgeous boy staring down at him already, face expressing equal portions of worry and annoyance. 

      Suho is just glad to have his undivided attention. 

      A bowl is pushed into his hands, and he drowsily expresses his gratitude before taking a sip. “Woah, I don't think it's supposed to taste this good… aish, why is everything perfect about you,” he groans, bringing another spoonful to his lips with a disbelieving sigh. 

      A choked-off gasp sounds from in front of him, and the gorgeous face he's been staring at is dusted with a thin layer of red. 

    He tries to take in every detail between slow blinks, but he's not very successful. Instead, he focuses on finishing his bowl of soup.

     The bowl is emptied quickly, a side-effect of the dish being so delicious. Sieun pats his shoulder in some sort of silent praise before taking the bowl away. This time, suho doesn't have a cat on him to prevent him from following.

      “Let's get you somewhere comfy, yeah?” Sieun offers, gently luring suho down a hallway. He feels a little like a dog being lured into a new room with treats, except the treat in this case would be seeing that pretty face for as long as possible.

      He's brought into a bedroom, and his drowsy brain fills with ideas that heat his face up. Gracefully, sieun ignores it and opens the sheets for him to climb in. He starts to, but pauses. Sleeping in someone else's bed? It's clear this is sieun's bedroom, and not some spare. 

      Decisively, he lays down, but he catches sieun's arm in his hand before the other could skitter away. “stay, please,” he manages to whine out, only to need to repress giddy laughs when a small tug is enough to convince the smaller to settle into the space beside him on the bed.

     Seiun also doesn't fight back when arms settle around him loosely. He takes it as a sign that the new love of his life doesn't mind snuggles, spectacular news for all of the sieun simps named ahn suho out there. 

    He hopes he's the only one. 

     He'll fight the others off with a stick.

     Sleepily, he giggles at the thought, pulling the source of warmth closer to his chest before letting himself drift away. “mm, you're perfect.” he hums, feeling each limb grow heavier under the weight of sleep.

       Suho wakes up in a bed that's not his, light on his face from a window with a view that he doesn't recognize, and feels the dip of the mattress from a weight that's not him. 

      A source of panic. 

     His eyes snap to the unexpected source of warmth, only for the memories to flood back to him. 

     Drunk suho is somehow better than hungover suho, apparently. He was desperate this morning. 

     Another set of knocks ring through the apartment, making sieun stir. That must be what woke suho up the first time. 

      “I didn't order anything,” the other yawns, reluctantly standing to go answer the door. Suho follows from a distance.

       He settles for listening around the corner, possibly too curious, but he's too sleepy to care too much. 

        “Oh, were you sleeping? It's not even dark out yet,” a girl's voice notes, probably prompted by his cute bedhead. 

        “Just a nap. What is it?” Sieun answers, voice clipped. Suho would wonder why he's being rude if the interaction didn't feel like both parts have acted how the other expects. 

      “Well, I was just… these are for you,” the girl struggles, and the rustling of a gift being passed over can be heard. “I know you're not the kind to believe in soul mates, or love at first sight, but I do. I just wondered if maybe you'd be willing to at least be friends, maybe give this a chance if things turn out that way?”

      Suho's eye twitches at the thought that sieun could have actually been straight this entire time. Without much time to consider his options, or the consequences of his actions, he interrupts sieun's response, stepping into the line of sight of the mystery visitor. “Mm? Who's this, sieun? She's pretty,” he says groggily, rubbing his eyes until he can drape his arms over the shorter's shoulders with a yawn. 

       “You didn't have to get up, you need the rest,” sieun sighs, tone significantly warmer than the one he had just been using. His heart races at the implications. 

        “I'd argue that you need it more, after last night,” he snorts, trying to disguise his worry for sieun as humour. When he looks down, he notices a bouquet of flowers uncomfortably pinched between his fingers. “Iris and chrysanthemum? I can back off if you want,” he offers, starting to pull away. 

       Hands grip his wrists, forcing him to stay attached to sieun. “You know flower language?” Sieun asks suddenly, turning his head to face the other. “What does this bouquet mean?”

      Suho throws an apologetic glance to the forgotten neighbor, stood awkwardly at sieun's doorstep, ignored after a love confession. He offers her a chance to explain, but she remains silent. “Irises stand for hope, faith, or love, chrysanthemum stands for deep love or passion. Together it would say something like ‘I wish for love’ or ‘I hope you love me'”

       “Oh,” sieun starts, looking back at the girl. She seems to have already accepted her fate, head drooping to avoid eye contact. “I don't really…” he tries, not able to find the words.

      “No, it's okay. I see now. I probably should have known with how you've only had guys over,” she laughs nervously, offering an apologetic bow. 

     “Oh- they're not- they're just-” sieun tries to defend himself, but seems unable to develop the right words. Clearly, he's never felt the need to define his relationship with anyone. 

      “Friends and coworkers, right?” He offers, passively swaying the two of them along to the steady beat of his own calm heart. They say that being a steady presence can help loved ones who struggle with social anxiety. If the shorter's breathing evening out is any sign, it seems to be true. “and I stayed over because you exhausted yourself while trying to handle me being hungover.”

       Partially true, but a lot of other details occurred between those main points.

        “Right,” he sighs, body losing some of the tension it had been harboring. “I'm not turning you down to date someone else, I just don't date.” 

      He must care about his neighbor, this is the most he's spoken to her at one time. Still, he turned her down and suho got some additional affection from sieun. An overall win, if you were to ask him.

       Who needs a boyfriend if you've already got a hot twink that lets you lie for him?

      The two say their goodbyes, and the door shuts quietly, leaving suho and sieun in a stale air. “You didn't have to do that,” sieun sighs, almost sounding disappointed as he pushes the taller's arms off of himself. 

       The sudden contrast startles him, naturally. 

        “Wait- do what?” He manages to ask, catching sieun's wrist before he manages to brush past. Once it's clear he's stopped, the wrist is released. Suho doesn't really want to piss him off, it feels like a lethal mistake. “Sieun, I can't read your mind.”

        The boy sighs, finally looking up to make eye contact once again. “I don't need a fake boyfriend to help me turn down girls.”

       Suho snorts at the concept. “I'm sure you don't, with those looks I'd assume you're beating admirers off with a stick whenever you step out,” he admits easily, letting a smile pull the corner of his lips as umut moves to weave between his stationary legs. “Do I need to remind you that I helped you prove we weren't together? I never tried to be your fake boyfriend, I even tried to give her opportunities to make some nice moves for you.”

       Sieun considers this for a moment, seeming to mentally give suho his due credit, before moving on. “I suppose so. Give me one moment, and we can go for a little walk. Nothing too long though, it'll get dark soon.”

       Suho watches the other walk into his room, rummaging through the closet aimlessly. “It's a little late, are you sure-” 

      His question is interrupted by his mouth falling dry, throat closing up, and lungs completely losing all of their function as sieun casually pulls off his shirt, right in suho's line of sight.

     Flustered, he quickly faces the exterior door, offering something to resemble privacy. 

        “Are you questioning my judgement because of last night? I'll have you know, that was a targeted event. I'm fine on the streets.” Sieun snorts, approaching from behind suho to open the door. He looks cozy now, in a soft looking sweater and warm joggers, he's well suited for the recent weather. 

       “I'm already well aware that you're fine,” he mumbles, trailing behind like a lost puppy while sieun leads the way out of the apartment, locking the door patiently. “You really shouldn't be exercising with a wound like that,” he points out, letting his worry seep into his tone.

      “It's just walking,” the shorter replies flatly, giving him an unenthused side glance. “It's not like we'll be running a triathlon. Don't worry about me so much, it's unsettling.”

     “Can't help it,” suho shrugs, wrapping an arm around the shorter's waist, pulling him close, and lifting carefully. It looks perfectly normal from the outside, but really, he's keeping sieun from straining his injury. A win-win, considering how the other seems to worry most about outward appearances.

       “I'm surprised umut likes you so much,” he snorts as they reach the sidewalk, looking up to the taller. “She usually hates liars.”

      “I didn't lie!” Suho defends, voice pitching with indignation. “I just omitted some things that strangers have no business knowing,” he explains, trying to keep his most clinical tone about him. 

       “You're incredibly stubborn,” sieun sighs, settling into a routine of leaning to direct their path when they encounter intersections. As much as he pretends he hates this, he doesn't seem to actually mind having suho clung to him like this.

       That brings a ray of warmth to his chest. He's like a cat, pretending not to like the attention, but still basking in the warmth of it. 

       So cute.

       After a while, sieun breaks the silence. 

       “Shit,” he hisses, planting his feet into the ground to stop them both quickly. “Keep me blocked” he orders, nearly hiding behind suho with the way he moves. It's adorable, but enough to put suho on edge. What if it's the person who stabbed his baby?

      Sieun doesn't act like the kind of guy who has a lot of people he wants to hide from. He could probably take suho down in a fight if he really wants to, there's a calculated sharpness to his gaze. The sort of lethality that makes you question your life choices when it's focused on you.

     He looks up to find two men across the street. 

     One looks sharp. He's well-dressed, with slicked hair that probably holds enough gel and hairspray to paralyze a small army. Something about the way he carries himself makes suho shudder. He looks smart. Dangerous. 

     The other person feels like a relieving breath of fresh air. He's bulky with muscle, and wears a familiar wide grin across his face. Suho knows this man. Park humin. Another member of his team that he's met with while off the clock. 

      Baku, while embarrassing to be around in public, is probably not the reason sieun wanted to hide. 

     That leaves the scary one. Frankly, suho kinda wants to hide from him too. 

      “Oh hey! Hyung!” Shit.

      “Sorry,” he manages to mutter out, unable to stop the train wreck that's already in motion. Baku drags himself and the other man precariously across the road, not unlike a dog dragging his owner to chase after a bird or squirrel.

       “Suho hyung! I didn't expect to see you out here, didn't you call in sick to work? You look fine, did something happen? Who's that?” The barrage of questions pelt suho's brain like oppressive fire, it almost distracts him from the impending doom of the scary man's eyes sliding over to recognize the person he wants to protect.

      “Yeon sieun, what a surprise,” he starts, effectively silencing baku. Something suho didn't consider possible until now. Sieun's face doesn't show much, but the corner of his lip twitches with a barely repressed snarl. “I almost didn't recognize you, you've never been the type to have a toy hanging off of you.”

      That didn't make too much sense, but it seems that the shorter took some offense to that.

     “I don't take toys,” he scoffs. “Are you ever going to take back that runaway dog of yours, or should I assume he's mine by now?”

     “Is this one hired then? What's your price?” Suho feels the eyes turn to him, but he doesn't understand what's being said. He looks to sieun, who shakes his head. Blankly, he relays the gesture. “That mutt was useless. He was disloyal and violent, the house has been much better with him gone.”

     “You had a dog?! I'll train him! Oh come on, jin-ah, you know how much I love puppies!” Baku starts to plead, pulling on the sleeve of the taller. Suho's never seen this side to him before.

     “Strange, with a little training and praise, he's been well behaved for me. Are you sure you treated him correctly?” Sieun retorts, completely ignoring the meathead in favour of adding a snide tone to his comment. A choice that makes sense, many people elect to ignore baku.

      “Training and praise, huh? Maybe I will visit that mutt. See if he still remembers who owns him,” the delivery is cold, sharp. Suho has a sense that they're not saying what they mean to say. “Is that how you got this pet of yours? He seems to have a good heel. I can't imagine you holding any appeal to someone like this unless you pay well, he's a little out of your league.”

      Suho feels the eyes on him again, and he forces himself to look away. That's an oddly correct (yet false) observation. The two are not in the same league, but it's the other way around. Sieun is perfect, and unfortunately that means he will have to settle for someone below his level when he wants to settle down. 

      He ends up making eye contact with baku, who seems to also notice the tension in the conversation. They'll talk about this later, for sure. Maybe with the information that the two of them have, they can put together what these two men mean to each other. 

       “Na baekjin, watch your tongue.” Sieun snaps, his tone lacing the air with a hateful venom. “You don't have to listen to a word he says. Baekjin is a spiteful person, there's rarely any truth in his words,” he sighs, directing his words to the taller. 

      Suho simply nods, wrapping an arm around his shoulder protectively. So they're not on friendly terms. “How'd you meet baku?” He asks, bringing the conversation away from whatever made sieun uncomfortable.

     The man pauses, looking to baku with a questioning glance. “They call you that?” When he's met with an easy nod, he returns to the discussion. “He was breaking up a bar fight that had spilled out into the street. Kept me from getting swept up in it, and I've not been able to get rid of him since.”

      “It's hard to want to,” suho counters with a snort. That's good, getting a friendly tone rolling by talking about something he cares about. “He's an idiot, but a lovable one. Not a malicious bone in his body.”

      “All of my bones are delicious, hyung!” The man in question defends, earning a snort from suho and the scary man- apparently named baekjin. Suddenly his eyes widen with belated realization. “I knew it! I knew you secretly loved me!! Do you love me more than gotak? Tak-ah thinks you don't but I know you do, you're the best hyung ever, suho-ya!” 

        The rambles make him shake his head. Quietly, he turns to sieun, who was tugging his sleeve. 

     “Is he always like this?” The shorter asks, eyeing the bundle of energy who's still talking, somehow. Noticeably, someone is actually listening. Baekjin is offering his undivided attention, listening with practical heart eyes.

      “Yeah,” he sighs, before refocusing on baku. “Humin, breathe.”

      The man pauses, catching his breath for a moment before speaking again. Much slower, this time.

      “You're dodging the question,” he whines, but inevitably dismisses the case. “But you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend! When did that happen? Were you going to tell us? You didn't think we were going to judge you, right? The entire team is gay, we kinda figured you would be too…”

      Suho lets out a choked noise, looking down to sieun for help. Luckily, he gets the hint. 

     “It's still new. He's just keeping me company since last night was rough for me,” he explains easily. Distantly, he remembers what sieun said at the beginning of the walk.

     ‘Umut doesn't like liars’ his ass

      “Oh shit,” suho groans, driving the heels of his hands into his eyes in frustration. “I can't believe I forgot,” he nearly sobs as his hands scrub down his face. 

      “The quarterly?” Baku helpfully guesses. Suho regularly forgets to send it in, especially if he doesn't have work on the day it's due. Today would fit into that category well. “Well, don't let us keep you from that, hyung! I know how the boss gets…” he trails off, leaving space for both men to shudder in sheer terror. 

      “Thanks baku,” he sighs, relief flooding his tone. He barely has a chance to even bid the pair goodbye before baku is pulling the other down the sidewalk, starting an animated retelling of the time their boss nearly pulled a knife on suho.

       Sieun turns to him, eyes widening. “Is he exaggerating, or should I worry about your safety in the workplace?” He asks immediately, letting the taller wrap an arm back around his waist to provide the much-needed support. 

      “Uh, neither? My official MMA career might be over, but a fucked ankle won't do much to impede my ability to disarm an untrained opponent,” he snorts, recalling the fear on the old man's face as he threatened to fire everyone. 

      “You fight?” The inevitable question hits his ears. He keeps himself from sighing, since he wants sieun to be interested in him, before answering.

     “I did, yeah. Up until some cheating bastard was upset I won without cheats, and had his buddies jump me at my own house. Got a serious concussion and broke my ankle where they tried to tie me down,” he sighs, remembering the pain he felt. 

      “I'll take you to my gym tomorrow. It's good to keep those skills practiced, even if you can't use them professionally anymore,” sieun notes, casually, like he's not offering to change suho's life. 

     “You fight?” He asks, lighting up at the thought of his perfect boy being able to fight.

      “Yeah. We should get home so you can finish the paperwork your friend mentioned,” sieun dismisses, ignoring the prying eyes on him. 

      “Oh, I did that a week ago. Baku just never knows what day it is. He'll facilitate any excuse you've got with his whole heart, no matter how ridiculous it might be,” he explains with a small chuckle, making eye contact with the sign for a cute looking café. “Ooh, that looks nice.”

     “It's a mob front. The cupcakes are dusty and old, and the coffee is bitter,” sieun explains, tone exposing his personal experience with the shop, and the resulting disappointment. 

       He hears about things like that, but he's not sure exactly how people figure that out. It's not like they'll just tell you, or let you live if you snoop. 

      Well, he supposes if anyone would be able to figure it out and live to tell the tale, sieun would make the short list. He's a genius, suho knows that for certain. 

       “wanna grab ramyeon?” He offers, a shy grin creeping up his face.

      Suho disposes of his noodle cup and chopsticks while sieun continues to nurse his with caution. He must be sensitive to heat, a piece of information for him to tuck away in the back of his mind.

        “So, that na baekjin guy. You're not friends, right? I tried to be friendly with him but he kinda felt like a major asshole to anyone who isn't baku,” he finally lets out, tucking the shorter into his side. So what if he's selfish? Sieun would stop him if he wasn't allowed.

       “He wasn't always that bad,” the other sighs, holding the cup closer to his face to inhale the spiced steam. He looks so content, a direct contrast to how he looked in the presence of that man. “he used to rely on others for protection. When he gained the strength to not need that, the power went to his head,” he explains, taking a slurp of noodles like he didn't say something profound. 

      It wasn't until they were back at sieun's apartment that he noticed he wasn't given much information about the whole ordeal.

        “Are you sure?” He asks, hesitant to move. “I'm more than willing to sleep on the couch, it's really not a problem,” he explains, scratching his neck.

       “Get in before I force you into bed,” sieun snaps back. He sounds serious, so suho lifts the covers and climbs in with the confidence of a fish navigating a bird's nest. “Good choice,” the shorter sighs, settling into the mattress to finally sleep. 

     Suho can't help but notice that sieun decided to sleep facing him.

      It was probably an accident, habit from sleeping alone. With that in mind, he turns away from the other, letting out a soft sigh as he sets his alarm for work begrudgingly and settles against the mattress. He can survive this. It's fine.

      Suho woke up uncomfortably warm. His hand immediately reached for his phone to turn off the alarm, but that's when he noticed something. A pressure around his waist, pinning him to the source of the warmth. 

     His eyes slid open, and he notices he's not in his own room. 

      It's sieun's room. That must mean-

      He looks down. Sure enough, the pressure was a set of arms. As his senses returned to him, the scene became clear. Sieun was spooning him in their sleep. His heart flutters at the thought. It's his first time on the receiving end of this treatment, and he's not exactly sure how to react. 

       “Sieun-ah, I have work. I need time to get home and dressed for the office,” he sighs, noticing the shorter's lack of willingness to let him go. The arms around him only tighten, and legs shift to tangle around his. 

      Sieun lets out a tired groan, smushing his face against the taller's back before speaking. “Ten more minutes. You can use seongje's clothes. I'll show you the closet when we get up.”

      That name sounds familiar, but not familiar enough to be a coworker. Has sieun mentioned him before?

        Maybe that's the name of the friend he called from suho's place. So, seongje is approximately his size? Why does he have clothes at sieun's place?

      Regardless, he sighs and melts into the rare affection. “Alright, ten more minutes,” he agrees with a sigh, wrapping his arms around the limbs holding him. 

     As much as he's used to the expectation that he will be the steady presence in his relationships, he's found that he truly enjoys surrendering that control. Being pampered suits him a little too well.

     It turns out, sieun has a closet for his two frequent guests. Half of it possesses clothes that clearly belong to juntae. He's worn most of those outfits to work or their team outings. 

      The other half can only be described as a tragedy. It's unorganized, a muddy jacket lies sprawled across the pile of unsorted clothes on the floor, and an ugly orange windbreaker is strewn across the few clothes that actually made it onto a hanger. It's depressing, and enough to make suho believe that this ‘seongje’ guy was not the threat to his nonexistent relationship that he previously was considered to be. 

      “It's worse every time I look,” sieun sighs, clearly used to the man's messiness. Wordlessly, he moves the orange article of clothing to reveal some actually presentable clothes underneath. They look like they were ironed and meticulously hung up. They also look like they haven't been touched in a long time. “He never wears the clothes I got him, so he wouldn't mind if you borrow some. If he does, I'll just buy him new ones,” he explains with a shrug, picking out a pair of black dress slacks and a maroon button-up shirt and shoving them into suho's arms, pausing before also moving to grab hairspray, a chain necklace, and metal-plated watch from his dresser. 

       “Are you sure about all this?” He asks uselessly, letting sieun push him into the bathroom to change. He does it quickly, and opens the door to see sieun waiting.

       “Knees,” the shorter orders, and suho immediately drops to a kneeling position on command. “Good,” sieun praises, before getting to work on suho's hair with a comb, small amount of gel, and some hair spray. 

     Suho is under the impression that he doesn't need that much in his hair for it to look fine, but the other looks so cute when he's focused like this. 

      Umut sticks close to her owner, only parting to receive pets from the taller before crowding back between sieun's legs. Such an affectionate cat. Easy to love, much like the person above her. 

        Once his hair is to the fussy boy's taste, suho is allowed to stand again, while sieun drapes the chain around his neck and fastens the watch to his wrist. 

       “You don't have to do all of this, it's just work sieun-ah,” he reiterates while the other completely ignores his pleas, choosing to smooth out the shirt instead, adjusting the buttons to sit perfectly and rolling the sleeves up a quarter length, using the fastenings clearly made for that choice. 

        It's only when he unfastens the top few buttons of the shirt that he finally speaks. “I refuse to let you leave my house without looking your best. It's an insult to yourself,” he scoffs, moving to pick up umut as they shuffle to the kitchen for toast that sieun had apparently managed to prepare while he was getting dressed. Surely he didn't take that long. 

        He settles on one piece of toast with some blueberry jam, before deciding its time to head to work. 

      As a show of good faith for the clothes and jewelry, he leaves the keys at sieun's place, taking his number in trade and promising to return after work. 

      It feels nearly domestic as he hugs sieun goodbye before he heads out the door, turning back to see those gorgeous eyes one more time before the door closes behind him.

      His heart swells at the feeling, filling with enough hot air to let him float down the morning sidewalk on his way to work.

       As soon as he steps into the building, he immediately feels different. Beomseok, the man who works at the front desk, is looking at him without his usual glare. Usually he had some sour look accompanied by complaints of suho being weird or unfriendly. Today, however, he simply seems to acknowledge the other with a nod before rushing to look back to the computer on his desk, an attempt to appear busy.

      But he works at the front desk, there's absolutely nothing to do on the computer right now except to play the pre-installed solitaire game. 

         He elects to ignore it, minding his own business as he takes the elevator to his floor and beelining for the coffee machine, relieved to find baku pouring from the fresh batch he must have just brewed. 

        “Oh thank God, I need this today,” suho sighs, air finally refreshingly crisp in his lungs as normalcy starts to creep back into his life as he preps his regular drink. “director kim gilsoo is coming today, just a heads-up.”

       “Suho hyung, when the hell were you able to look this expensive?” Baku gawks, stepping back to fully see the other man. “You look good! Like, really good. Like, handsome mobster good. Like, if I didn't have my jin-ah, I'd totally smash-”

      “Okay, I get it,” suho cuts him off with an incredulous laugh, taking a small sip of his drink to calm down. “Don't expect me to look like this all the time, this morning was just special,” he explains, trying to remain vague. 

      “Oh, did you get dressed by that guy you were with yesterday?” He guesses, unexpectedly accurate. “Speaking of yesterday, what the hell is going on between our guys? They looked ready to bite each other's heads off!”

       Suho feels his back tighten at just the mention of that instance. “God, yeah. I've never seen that look in sieun's eye before. It was scary. Yours was scary too, his eyes reminded me of a snake.” He shudders, recalling the cold glare that skimmed over him like he was some unnecessary prop in his meticulously planned scene.

       “A cute snake,” baku gushes, hiding his enamored expression behind his cup of coffee. He's too far gone to see the danger in those eyes. 

      He simply sighs. Maybe he'll get more information later, when baku is hungry and willing to share more for food. 

      “Gilsoo wanted me to deliver this to-” wooyoung pauses his disrespectful reference to their boss, files suspended above suho's desk, mid-drop. “Suho hyung, where the hell did you get that watch from?” He asks, eyes not wavering from the shiny metal that feels vaguely uncomfortable as a weight on his wrist.

      How is he going to word this without sounding clinically insane?

      “Oh, uh. I stayed at a friend's place last night. He let me borrow some clothes, the catch being that I had to let him style me,” he explains. Mostly true. It wasn't really communicated in that way, but it's an approximation of the morning while leaving out the details that make them sound like a couple. “The watch, necklace, and hairspray were all his idea.”

       The other places the files down, before walking a slow circle around suho's desk. Observing. “How long have you known each other? We all know you don't have friends outside of work,” he squints, making eye contact with suho.

       “We met like two nights ago, unusual circumstances, and I think we're trauma-bonded now,” he tries, shrugging like it's no big deal, like they're not talking about his fairly mutual feelings with the most gorgeous man alive. 

        The other takes another pause, looking from the clothes, to the necklace, to the watch, then the clothes again. “Waa, suho! Why did you make me work so hard for that information! A sugar daddy is nothing to be ashamed of. Ah, what's he like? Is he old? Near the grave, perhaps. Get to work on becoming his sole beneficiary, it shouldn't take too much extra work for-”

       “A what?!” He yelps, bolting upright in his chair. Out of everything he could've mistaken his relationship with sieun as, a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship was not one of them. “Aish, woo, you couldn't be more wrong. We really are just friends. He's about the same age as us, I think he just spends his money differently.”

      “Just friends?” He snorts, disbelief obvious in his tone. “Hyung, that watch is worth more than you make in a year. The clothes, too, I think they're designer. People don't put friends they've known for less than a week in an outfit like this.”

       The information sinks in his stomach like a heavy stone. It's becoming harder to ignore. 

      Sieun has friends that juntae describes as scary, has money to throw away on clothes that never get worn by his friends, affords a large apartment on one of the top floors, and suho met him while he was literally bleeding out from a stab wound in a dark alleyway.

       Add in the fact that they've both lied about their situation instinctively, for completely different reasons? And that baekjin from yesterday…

      Who exactly did he let into his home? Who did he share a bed with? He knows sieun's name, but is there anything else? He has money, can cook, can fight, has scary friends, scarier enemies, and he probably likes suho, at least as a friend. 

       He doesn't even know what sieun does for work, it could be something dangerous. There is that cold edge to his gaze, which gives suho a healthy fear of him, but still- sieun is gentle. 

       He made hangover soup for the stranger that fell asleep in his house. Defended suho from misunderstandings. He even cuddled with said near stranger- twice! Once when suho was ill, and once when they went to sleep for the night, all the way into the morning. 

        That kind of person can't be dangerous. Umut wouldn't trust him if he secretly hurt people.

       Maybe he just had rich parents, or inherited the money from a distant relative.

      With a sigh, he looks down at the files. 

       That's a lot to read through.

      “My running theory is that they were academic rivals in school. Maybe something happened in the later years that made the friendly rivalry more… tense?” Suho sighs, leaning over the back of the chair he had sat in during the meeting. It was just him and baku in the conference room, so he figured it was a good enough time to bring it up.

       “Oh that's true, my jinnie is super smart. Way smarter than me,” he agrees, nodding aggressively. 

      Suho pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “Your iq is 99, a good majority of the people you meet are going to be smarter than you,” he explains, letting his head fall slack over the table. It's been a long day, the pull on his neck is nothing compared to the ache in his back. “So what's the situation with you and baekjin? How'd you meet?”

      Baku ignores the insult in favour of talking about his counterpart. “We met a few weeks ago. He pretends to be annoyed by me, but he always picks up when I call him, even when he's at work. He always shows up when I want to see him, and he's the only person who laughs at all of my jokes, and not just the ones that are funny.”

      “He sounds like a saint,” suho snorts, not bothering to hide his amusement at the idea. “I think he actually likes you. I don't know how you managed to find that, but you did. Just don't mess up, yeah?” He teases, sending a grin to the other.

     “Talk all you want- I'm not the only person who found my perfect match! What's he like? I know he's handsome but what else? Can he cook? Is he funny? Does he have any quirks that you adore? Is he a top or bottom? What's he like in bed-”

      “Oh jeez, sorry. I'll come back another time-” juntae stutters from the doorway, slowly backing out of the room and closing the door behind him. 

     When the hell did he come in? Did they seriously not notice someone walking in on them?

     “Wait, juntae!” Suho shouts after him, bolting from the room to save some shred of his dignity. That conversation was basically over already, since the questions got too weird. 

     With the incredibly long conversation handled, suho packed up his things for the day. He locked his office and patted himself down to make sure he had everything.

      Phone, wallet, keys, ID badge that he needs to bring to the front desk.

     Where are his keys?

     Right as he reaches for his office door in a hurry, his brain provides him with a reminder in the form of a glistening watch. Right. His keys are with sieun.

      He lets out a sigh of relief, fidgeting with the necklace around his neck as he makes his way down the hall. The weight is surprisingly comforting to him, the way it settles against his skin with a cool touch and tangible presence. 

      He stops by beomseok's desk as soon as he gets to the lobby, but the other seems a little distracted. Completely in contrast to how he's treated suho in the past two years of them working here. Something just feels off today.

       When he turns around, he can see why. 

       Sieun is sat in the middle of the lobby. Impervious to the stares of passers-by. He was well- dressed, too. Even better than the suit-wearers from the upper floors. He looked important, expensive, untouchable.

      He looked hot.

      It's only when he started to walk towards the other that beomseok actually spoke up, but it was only a small sound of protest.

      That would not deter a man like suho. 

      “Hey, how'd you know I worked here?” He asked with a tilted head and a bright grin, leaning against the chair the subject of his interest was seated in. 

      Sieun looks up, unamused. “I know where juntae works, and you're his boss,” he points out. He keeps his face blank, but the very corners of his mouth push down. An attempt to suppress a smile. “There was a change of plans. We're not heading back to my apartment yet, so I figured I'd come down here to keep you from freaking out.”

      He pauses to process the new information, before eventually nodding. “Yeah that makes sense, changes from routine tend to throw me off a little bit. What about umut?”

     Sieun's eyes widen and move to find his. They sparkle a little in the natural light coming through the windows. He looks pleasantly surprised. “Seongje is getting her,” he checks the time on his phone, swiping a notification away from the lock screen. “He should have her by now. Let's head down, I want to walk a little.”

      Easily, suho agrees, offering his hand for sieun to take. When he doesn't, he slides his arm around the shorter's waist. When he received no protest, they made their way to the elevator. 

       “That outfit looks good on you. I'll take you shopping soon, we'll get you fitted,” the shorter comments once the doors close, silently adjusting the maroon shirt's collar and smoothing out the wrinkles. 

       “You don't have to do that,” he protests immediately, eyebrows furrowed. “I don't want you spending money on me. Plus, you look amazing today. I'm pretty sure everyone in the lobby fell in love with you,” he huffs out, trying not to shake the other with the movement of his laughter.  

      “You were in the lobby too,” sieun points out, not letting suho defend himself before pulling him through the opening doors of the elevator and onto the ground floor.

    Soon enough, they're outside on the sidewalk. Belatedly, he notices how they look. Sieun being so well-dressed and put together, while suho is dressed well, but in a casual style…

      It looks like suho is from one of those rentable oppa services- well, a hyung in this case. Or worse, it could look like sieun's walking home with a prostitute. Oh god, people are looking. Should he let go of sieun? That's not safe, he's injured. 

      Before he could come to any conclusion, a small line of black cars with tinted windows pulls up beside the two. It feels wrong, so he steps a little more ahead, blocking sieun more efficiently. He can feel the worry dragging his eyebrows down as the first few passenger side doors open.

     The first to step out is a girl, dressed in a well fitting but simple suit as she steps around to where the two are standing, chewing on what looks like the stick to a sucker. Her eyes land on sieun first, before roving over suho with a disinterested but predatory gaze. 

      She doesn't seem incredibly approachable.

      The next is a fairly built man, wearing the same suit, but the fabric does nothing to hide the obvious muscles he's worked for. Fighting him wouldn't be fun. 

      The third makes his heart drop. 

      A fluffy mop of brown hair appears over the car door, and then a blinding canid grin, distinctly gummy. The wolf steps over to the couple, tilting to lean his weight on one foot and look around suho to find sieun. 

       “That's cute, you're protecting him?” He asks, but he sounds a little like someone who's watching a dog stand guard at the sound of the doorbell. Like the intention is displaced but endearing. It's patronizing. 

      “What do you want?” He asks, trying to keep both the protective aggression and bone-deep fear from bubbling up his throat and rising into his voice. He's mostly successful, but sieun makes a soft, confused noise at the tone. 

      He nearly melts as he looks back to the shorter for a weak second. That was really cute. His eyes are wide and glossy as he stares up with a small frown, making immediate eye contact. God, he can feel his heart constrict.

       The wolf opens the back door to the only van in the lineup; the inside has two bench seats, spaced further than usual and facing each other. It reminds him of the limos in the movies he'd watch on his days off. “What I want is for you to get in the car. Do you think you can do that without causing a scene?”

       His heart sinks a second time, and the adrenaline in his system feels hopelessly lost, nowhere for the excess energy to channel itself into. “Why?” He finds himself asking with a suspicious squint. 

      A stupid thing to say to one of the most dangerous mobsters in the area, but it keeps attention on him rather than sieun.

      The wolf only snorts, gesturing to something happening near the van, just outside of his peripheral vision. 

      When he turns his head, he sees possibly the most stressful sight possible. The girl had moved at some point, and is leveraging sieun through the doors while he pushes her arms, trying to keep her from making contact with the wound. 

     Fuck, he knew it was too risky to be going out so soon! 

      An arm slings around suho's shoulder, threatening to tighten around his neck if he does something unsavory. “Come on, lover boy, it'll be fun,” a voice nearly growls in his ear, low and chilling. As much as he hates it, suho's aware that he needs to stick with sieun. He can't leave him, especially not injured, and most definitely not when the fucking wolf is his escort. 

          Steeling his nerves, he lets himself be slowly walked to the vehicle, taking in any details he can. License plates, notable facial features or identifying marks. When side-by-side like this, suho can't help but notice that the wolf is actually the same size as him. Height, proportions, everything. Something he must've been too drunk to notice the first time. 

     Or too scared. 

     The arm moves from his shoulders to allow the hand to press him through the doorway of the vehicle by the back of his neck. “Watch your head,” the girl mumbles, only for the wolf to shove his forehead into the top of the car frame. 

     Surprisingly, it seems like an accident, if his surprised yelp and sudden release of the neck was any indication. He looks back to see him covering his mouth with both hands, eyes wide. The girl's eyes are also wider, though her face is more schooled. 

       “Oh god, sorry, I'm used to handling shorter people-” the wolf defends himself, only to shake his head out. “We'll get some ice for that if it still hurts when we get there.”

       Confused, suho accepts those terms and climbs in the rest of the way, immediately moving to sit next to sieun as the door is shut behind him. 

      Outside, the girl seems to have lost the impassive mask, scolding a bashful wolf and serving him a solid smack across the back of the head before they both split off to their respective vehicles. Interestingly, nobody enters the cabin with suho and sieun. 

      His eyebrows furrow at that detail, but he has more important things to worry about. Immediately, he tends to sieun, pulling the suit jacket, vest, and shirt up to look at the bandaging. Nothing seems to have bled excessively from him being handled, meaning it's likely that nothing reopened, but he'll keep checking frequently to be sure.

      Even with sieun in front of him, he can't keep his mind from drifting to the oddly friendly behavior from the wolf. 

       “Why are you checking me, you're the one who got hurt,” the other scoffs, brushing his hair back to see his forehead more clearly. “I don't think it'll bruise, so that's good,” he huffs, fixing suho's hair and smoothing out the wrinkles that formed from the arm around his shoulder. 

      With a sigh, he unbuttons the top two layers of his suit and peels it off, leaving himself in just the button-up shirt, which he loosens by a few buttons before fanning his neck. Belatedly, suho realizes the shorter had started sweating. 

      God, it's unfair how sieun can look so impossibly hot in any situation. They're literally being kidnapped and suho can't stop thinking about kissing the heat off his skin- 

WOAH.

      He needs to take a goddamn breath. They're barely friends. He needs to touch grass. Grab a firm handful of grass. Roll around in the grass. Furnish his house with grass carpeting. Eat grass. 

         “You're thinking too hard,” sieun sighs, breaking his thought process. “I said I'm here to stop you from spiraling. Yet here you are, spiraling.” 

      Little does he know, the spiral over plans changing was several crises ago. He's long since moved on from that topic, much credit due to sieun for that.

      “Sorry,” he manages to get out softly looking up to make eye contact with the most beautiful face in the world. He feels his tense muscles impulsively relax as he tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “I'll try to think less from now on.”

      Fittingly, his brain seems to blank when he looks into those eyes. They trap him with some sort of paralytic effect. It's really unfair how perfect this boy is. 

      Sieun seems to approve of this aspiration, scanning his face for something before replying. “Good, this is a much better look on you than all that stress,” he appraises, reaching to fix a link in the chain around suho's neck. 

       He can actively feel his brain shut down at the contact paired with the compliment.

       It took convincing from sieun, but he was eventually pried from the shorter's side. Currently, he's being walked around with the wolf's hand on the middle of his back. Gentle for now, but clearly ready to escalate things if necessary. 

     As promised, someone at the entrance to the rather unassuming building is stood waiting, offering an ice pack to suho. Hesitantly, he does take it, partially because it feels weird to turn it down and leave the person stood with a slowly numbing hand. 

       “So, are you more of a tea or coffee guy? Personally, I like a strong cup of coffee with my cigarettes. You seem like a coffee guy, do you like coffee?” The barrage of similar questions pelt suho's post-crisis brain with pinpricks of headache catalysts. If this keeps up, he'll have a migraine for sure.

        “I keep tea for having guests over, but I mostly drink water or the occasional energy drink,” he admits with a shrug, allowing himself to be maneuvered with the lightest pressure on his spine. He must admit, it's easier this way. 

       “Suho, that's the most depressing shit I've heard all week. We are expanding your beverage palate,” he announces, taking up a bravado that's completely unnecessary for the situation. “Don't worry. As your new best friend, I'll take care of you. If I don't, I think I'll be buried out back and wiped from history. Not that I need to be threatened to make sure you're okay, I already liked you from the first time we met!” 

        He pauses, turning to blink blankly at the other. He's not even sure what he's trying to convey anymore, he's just so lost and so tired and he wants to sleep and he wants his sieun and he wants umut to materialize out of thin air and jump into his arms because he's in desperate need of a hug and-

       “Oh come on, man. You were doing so well, don't shut down now. Come on big guy, you got this,” the wolf whines, bringing him back to reality with a hand on each shoulder and looking so deeply into his eyes that they're practically nose to nose. Suho flinches back immediately. “Ah! There he is. I knew that would work. I was a little worried I'd have to kiss you, though. Nothing like a true love's kiss to pull someone out of a trance, am I right or am I right?” He laughs, resuming their established walking routine like nothing happened. 

        “I'm glad it didn't have to come down to that,” he decides to say, instead of one of the inquiries making up the mountain of questions that are blocking his thoughts from influencing his actions. “I don't…” he starts, only to stop himself. It's not the time to be vulnerable yet. The wolf is not a friend.

     Yet, for some reason, the wolf moves to walk shoulder to shoulder with him, a slightly concerned expression on his face. “What? Why's that frown there? You don't what?” 

       With the prying, it's hard to stay quiet against someone who's been a rather respectful kidnapper. So, he lets the admission slide through his lips. “I don't understand any of this. I don't understand two nights ago, I don't understand last night, I most certainly am lost in regards to this space. I forgot the way about five hallways ago,” he sighs, feeling better with the truth off his chest, but when a low chuckle sounds from the other, facts about the company he's surrounded by start to settle uncomfortably into his brain. 

      Is this mafia business? This seems like mob business, and not just the wolf being involved with another job. Organized crime is a career, right? Mobsters aren't just roaming the streets doing other work, surely. 

      The uniformed suits certainly feel gang-oriented, but if they work for sieun, maybe it's just the work uniform? He seems to like to buy clothes for people. If not, is sieun okay? He said he would be, but he also tried to deal with his whole ‘bleeding to death in an alleyway’ situation all by himself. 

     Allegedly, his friend seongje was coming, but there was nobody in that neighborhood aside from suho, the wolf, and maybe the person who stabbed sieun in the first place.

      Huh, it's the first time he's had to acknowledge that he doesn't suspect the wolf for stabbing sieun, despite his blade-themed threats that night and uncomfortably close proximity to the injured boy. 

       The guiding hand on his back halts, gripping the back of suho's shirt when he mindlessly continues forward. “This is your suite, loverboy, enjoy your stay,” the wolf's voice notes. 

      Several questions fly to the tip of his tongue, but none of them have the chance to pass his lips before he's pushed through the doorway and the door slams shut. 

       Right, why would a hostage be able to ask questions? Is he a hostage? Should non-hostages have questions? Would the wolf be a good enough host to know how to treat non-hostages under his care? 

      His spiral is quickly interrupted by the most perfect melodic voice in the universe blessing his ears, a complaint already half formed, like the owner had been stewing in the disrespect for quite some time before willing ears came into reach.

      “Rrrrroow”

       “Umut!” He cheers gleefully, collapsing to the ground to give his precious baby girl all the attention she deserves. This must be safe, then. Seongje has been here to drop off umut. Maybe it really is just coincidence, then. Should he tell sieun? That feels like important information, having a dangerous member of the mafia on his team. 

       Or would that put sieun in danger? Oh god. That's not good. He can't do that, especially after the injury he's already sustained from having enemies, he doesn't need a whole gang after him.

       “Oh, you're just precious,” he coos as the cat tumbles gracefully onto her back, letting him rub her soft belly and comb through the meticulously groomed fur. He nearly cries when she leans up to lick his hand, like she wants to reciprocate the petting. “Oh, hello sweet girl. Aren't you just a treasure?”

        While he didn't hear the door opening, he can hear it click shut, a familiar voice filling the room a few moments after. “This is not how I left this room… seongje is a dead man. Please ignore the- uh- theme to this suite, it's really not what I was going for.”

       With a confused noise, suho looks up from the cat, just now noticing that he never really looked at the room. Just the wall, door, and square half meter section of the floor around umut. 

       Scattered on a path to the bed is a trail of flower petals, which are also arranged meticulously in a heart shaped pattern on the bedding. If his eyes don't fail him from this distance, he also believes there may be a box of chocolates and a few condom packets displayed inside the heart as well.

        The room is mostly lit by lamps and candlelight, giving it a warmer feeling, and a speaker by the TV system plays a song he doesn't know, the singer crooning something about how the person they're writing about is fated to be held in their arms. It takes him a few moments to put all of these pieces of information together.

      It honestly looks like a love hotel room. It's certainly a romantic setup.

      He feels his face and neck warm up at the realization, and he quickly moves to sit stiffly on the couch, staring blankly at the darkened TV screen while sieun noisily tries to hide the offending decor around the living space. 

       “I didn't even- I didn't see it, I swear. I promise I had no idea, I just saw umut when I came in and-” his babbling apology is caught in his throat when sieun crouches in front of him, crowding his vision.

       “Breathe,” he sighs, making exaggerated deep breaths until suho is able to mimic it himself with just enough accuracy for it to count.  “You're not in trouble, I could already tell that she had you fully distracted.”

        “You're so pretty,” suho sighs out, the words leaving his chest as easily as the breath. Both feel like they've been dislodged by the relief sieun brings with his presence. 

      He processes his own action several business moments after the fact, only to feel his face heat up even further, driving him to push his face into the palms of his hands. “Ignore me. God this is so embarrassing.”

        Instead of hearing sieun walk away, however, he swears it sounds like the other has shuffled closer to him. Before he has time to question it, hands wrap around his wrists and gently pull his hands from his face. When he slides one eye open to see how terribly he ruined everything, he's surprised to notice a distinct lack of anger on sieun's face. 

      “it looks like umut has competition now, because I think with you like this, you're the cutest thing in the room.” The confidence in sieun's voice only serves to fluster him further. He's not ready for this, he's had no time to prepare for a cardiac event! 

       “Aish, don't say things like that sieun-ah, I'll get the wrong idea,” he whines out, he meant to sound playful, but it sounded more like he was begging for his life. Sieun's gaze only softens, sending suho's innards in a painful twist and forcing a pathetic whimper to claw at his throat, sound muffled behind his firmly closed lips. 

        Much to the taller's demise, the onlooker lets out a small huff of laughter, moving a hand to pet through his hair. “You're like a flustered puppy,” he notes with amusement, before the hand drifts to scratch behind his ear.

      Embarrassingly, suho melts into the affection almost immediately, almost protesting when he feels the hand move away. It drifts lower, trailing down his neck, then along the chain draped around it.

      A hooked finger catches on the bottom of the chain, tugging his head forward. 

       He moves with it, compliant, and is rewarded by a second hand moving to cup his cheek. 

       He's not sure when his eyelids slid shut, but when they flutter open, he's met with a face of sheer admiration. 

       The sight makes something in his brain shut down in a fuzzy fit, settling into something more instinctive. It feels safe. This feels safe. Sieun feels safe.

        A thumb traces the dark marks underneath his eye, bringing a certain burn of shame in his gut. 

        “Don't worry,” sieun's voice sighs, low and soothing over the sting of suho's own thoughts. “I will be responsible for taking care of you from now on. You deserve so much better than this.”

       It sounds like a simple comment, just an offhanded note, but the words are nothing short of a vow. He feels something inside him crumble under the weight of such a promise, his throat tightens around his attempts to breathe. 

       “Please don't,” the words manage to squeeze through his vocal cords, voice already on its way to shredding from the recent crying. “I don't- I can't-” 

      His attempts to speak result in nothing good, so he just lets out a soft whine, letting his eyes fall from sieun's face as a new burn of shame etches itself into his brain. 

      Sieun only shakes his head, sighing. “You can. I'll be here the whole time,” he soothes, switching tactics by pulling suho in for a tight hug, cradling the back of his head to lean him against a sure shoulder. An intoxicating cologne hits his senses as he starts to relax, feeling the world around him again. “You don't have to do anything. Let me handle it all from now on, okay?” The comforting voice croons lowly in his ear. Chills run down his spine and he feels his core warm at the thought. 

      He's so used to being strong, he's never needed to relinquish control before, he doesn't even know how to. Yet, it doesn't feel wrong when Sieun gently pulls the reins from his aching hands. It feels like decluttering his mind, like he's relinquishing some old garbage that he had been holding onto for far too long, something that's been polluting the air of his own habitat.

       He melts into the hug, feeling completely encompassed by sieun's presence. The sigh drawn out of him releases the residual tension in his muscles.

       “Let's get you into something more comfortable, yeah?” Sieun offers, starting to pull away. 

      While he's reluctant to let the other go, suho agrees with a quiet nod. He doesn't feel like talking anymore. Today was too much.

       A small effort later has suho donned in sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt. Significantly more comfortable, from a brand significantly out of suho's budget, and still fitted with the tags. That means they're newly purchased. Did sieun buy these, or did he have someone do it for him? Either way, the thought makes his face burn up. 

       He nestles his head into the pillow beneath him, nearly glowing while a smaller hand cherishes the other side his face. This is nice, he decides.

        “You'll get used to this,” sieun hums with a finality in his tone. “Being in my care, wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed. It'll come naturally for you eventually.”

        “Why?” He manages to ask, but it's not the only question on his mind. He wants to know when this ends. When the shorter will finally grow tired of having a needy man as his responsibility. When suho will have to pick up the scraps and be strong again. 

       He doesn't look forward to it, and that fact scares him. He used to want to be strong, he hated being watched over, doted on. It felt patronizing. Yet here, he's letting a gorgeous man treat him like a pet.

     And he likes it. He likes it a lot. 

      That scares him even more. 

     “That's a funny question,” sieun laughs, shifting to softly pet through his hair. “You picked me, puppy. I'm simply informing you that it's reciprocated. Get some rest, I'll wake you when it's time to eat. You've had a long day.”

       Suho doesn't even have the opportunity to ask how sieun's day has been before he feels his eyelids growing impossible to keep open.

      He supposes he can sleep first.

      “Why the hell does it look like this?” Sieun's unamused tone breaks through the haze of sleep. Suho can't quite open his eyes to see what he's referring to. 

      “Who else would request this?” An equally unhappy voice replies. She sounds like the girl from the car lineup. The one who hit the wolf. “Seongje ordered it ‘extra sexy’ and the chef went with it, though he looked very confused.”

     “Of course he looked confused, I told him all orders from him were mine. Apparently everyone except for Seongje has picked up the fact that I don't do ‘sexy’,” he scoffs, and suho can practically see the shorter crossing his arms at that comment.

      “I beg to differ?” He mumbles, but the sound doesn't carry beyond the pillow his mouth was pressed into. Oh, that's why his eyes wouldn't open.

      He lifts his head, feeling his hair sprawl slightly around his face as he stares at the headboard of the bed, willing himself to turn his body around.

       It's not working, but he's willing himself to do it.

      His chin hits the pillow with a frustrated sigh. When did he move to sleep on his front? He never does that. 

      A hand falls to rest over the small of his back, the warmth and pressure muffled through the bedding pulled over him. He's not awake enough to startle at the feeling, so he settles for letting out an inquisitive hum.

      “Trying to wake up?” Sieun's voice sounds from just behind his ear. Low and soft as he feels the warm breath fan across his skin. The affection nearly sends him back to sleep. He's not used to this treatment, or feeling so safe in someone's company.

      “Trying,” he echoes, looking up when a hand brushes his hair out of his face. He's met with that same adoring face on sieun, so sweet that he almost feels sick from perceiving it. 

       “Hm, you look so much better like this. Dazed and content is a good look on you, suho-ya.” The compliment slides right over his foggy head, and all he can focus on is the fact that sieun is giving him attention, and speaking to him in that syrupy-sweet tone that traps him every time. “We should ditch that pesky job of yours and just set up a bed in my office. I think that would be a nice treat to serve as an incentive for me to work faster, hm? It's already soundproofed, doesn't that sound like fun?”

       He didn't catch most of those words, they were in one ear and out another, but sieun seems to want him to agree to something, so he nods with a soft “mmhmm” rumbling in his chest.

        “Really? I'll get everything set up once we're okay to return to the expected routine. Of course, you can still change your mind whenever.” He starts, sounding a little excited before he pauses to take a breath. “I can already see it. You watching me work, sitting pretty on your bed. Having you curled up under my desk during virtual meetings. Kissing you stupid during my breaks, making you my reward.”

        Suho did catch a few of those words, and he was able to get a pretty vivid image from sieun's imagination. 

       “That's a little fast, don't you think?” He mumbles, leaning into the hand that pets through his hair before he moves, wedging his knees underneath himself to get the right positioning to finally sit up. When he does, the chill of the air outside of the blanket hits him, almost immediately sobering him up from his sleep-drunken state. “That smells good,” he notes, sniffing the air with great interest.

       Sieun lets out a small huff, an attempt to hide a laugh, before removing his hand from the bed-knotted hair. “You're cute, puppy. Do you want to go eat?”

        “You're kidding me,” suho scoffs as his chopsticks are smacked out of his hands, a bite of rice available on another pair being offered in its place. “Sieun-ah, you're the injured one! There's no reason for you to do all of this,” he desperately explains, meeting a cold glare when he finally looks over to the other.

       Obediently, he takes the bite. 

       Sieun immediately relaxes, offering another. He hums approvingly when it's quickly slid off the utensils and disappears behind suho's lips. “Nobody's forcing me to do this. I want to. You deserve so much more than I could give you, but since you've picked me, I'll try my hardest to meet the standards that you should expect.”

      “Picked you?” He asks softly, taking another bite as it's offered to him. He is starving, even if the situation isn't necessarily the context he should be eating during. Plus, rejecting something sieun does for him feels wrong.

       “Correct, that's why I've taken the responsibility to take care of you. You didn't think I treat everyone like this, did you?” Sieun snorts, grabbing a napkin from the table and wiping the corner of suho's mouth.

      “I hoped not,” he admits bashfully, not letting his eyes come up to meet the other. “But it came so naturally to you, haven't you done this before?”

       The question weighing heavily on his mind finally fell from his lips. He hated himself for asking, he shouldn't be jealous of this, but here he is. Being fed by hand by the most gorgeous man in the world, and he's asking if he's the first.

      Of course he's not the first, literally everyone who sees sieun falls head over heels for him!

      Sieun's free hand gently grips his jaw, pushing it open to put another bite in his mouth before closing it, pulling suho in closer. “That's flattering, suho-yah, but not the case. You are mine, and you're quite the handful. How would I have the time for someone else as well? No. You're my responsibility, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as you'll let me.”

      That sounds dangerously close to a promise. A vow, even.

       Sieun wakes him from his second nap of the day, doting on him like usual before explaining that they're going to go to his gym. He's been sleeping a lot recently. He wasn't even a nap guy before he met sieun, strange.

      Suho wasn't sure what he was expecting, but watching sieun strip off his jacket in a pristine dojo, he's sure it wasn't this. 

       He anxiously swallows down saliva as he looks over the newly exposed skin. Sieun's wearing a sleeveless shirt while he wraps his hands for the punching bag. 

       He cannot get caught drooling over forearms, any established coolness will be lost forever. 

       His head snaps up when the door opens again, letting three new figures in. 

     The first was the girl from before, followed by the wolf from the mafia, much to his displeasure, and beomseok from the front desk, much to his confusion.

      “Ah, nice timing,” sieun notes as he watches the three walk in. “Suho, I know you've talked to beomseok before, but the two next to him are yeongi,” the girl raises a hand in acknowledgement, “and seongje, who I've talked to you about before.”

       That's a lot to put together. The wolf and seongje are the same person? And why is beomseok here? 

      He doesn't really have any questions about the girl, yeongi. She kinda fits in here.

     “Uh, hi. Nice to meet you guys,” he tries, scooting closer to sieun on instinct. This feels weird.

       “This is suho, your new comare. I expect you to treat him well from now on,” he ends his statement with a punctuating glare pointed to seongje. He must have found out about suho's treatment somehow. 

      What's a comare?

      “Are you sure?” Beomseok's voice interjects, laced with the same tone he uses when someone suggests suho for a task while he's present. “Because I still remember rescuing him from a supply closet that he had managed to shut himself into.”

      “It was locked,” he reminds the other, eyebrows furrowing. “It's not like I could've handled the situation any better.”

      “It wasn't!” Beomseok shouts, exasperated. “You pushed a pull door and convinced yourself it was locked- and you were a crying mess when I found you.”

      The sudden contrast of information makes his face warm up. He's suddenly very aware of his audience. 

       A man he genuinely fears with his life, a very dangerous looking lady, his coworker- for some unknown reason, and the infamous wolf. 

     “That was ages ago,” he defends weakly, shifting to hide more behind sieun's small frame. Unfortunately, the shorter seems interested in the new anecdote. 

       “It was last week,” beomseok snorts, rubbing salt into the wound. 

        Suho just barely catches it, but it almost made the humiliation worth it. The corner of sieun's mouth takes a small twitch in a downward direction. 

     Amusement. Sieun's smile always starts downturned, like he's so used to fighting the expression that he can't ever let a smile loose before doing everything he can to stop it. It's an incredibly endearing trait. 

      “A lot has happened in the past three days, forget an entire week! People change, man,” he explains, indignant, before sealing his lips when he gets a warning glance from sieun.

      “If you're done arguing,” he sighs, turning back to the three across the room. “Resume beomseok's training. I want to see an acceptable level of proficiency today. Seongje, you're sparring with suho. I need to see where his skill settled during his inactivity, and you make a good guinea pig.”

     “Why me?” The mobster whines, slumping like a scorned teenager. Then he pauses, squinting at sieun. “Wait, why did you even act like you were an option. You shouldn't be active today at all!”

      Suddenly, any grudges suho may have held against the wolf are washed away. He looks out for sieun. Anyone who helps keep him safe is okay in his books.

       Wordlessly, suho climbs into the fighting ring. It's been a minute, but the motion is still fluid. Over a decade of muscle memory doesn't disappear easily.

      Seongje catches the hint, slipping through the ropes with a certainty that comes from consistent practice. Suho wouldn't be surprised if he knows the exact feel of every small bump on the vinyl flooring. He seems like the type.

       Seongje passes him two rolls of an elastic cloth, and it takes suho an embarrassing amount of time to notice it's for his hands. 

     It takes him a moment, but once he looks up, his opponent is already prepared. 

     “Okay. Standard rules. Avoid concussions, neither of you can afford the brain damage,” sieun notes, and the insult gains a snort from both sides before they finally hear the words they were waiting for “alright, go.”

       Seongje springs forward, immediately going for a jab to the head. He blocks and counters with his left hand dropping for a clear liver shot. It leaves an opening for a well timed push-kick that sends him reeling back.

     Suho revels in the space, getting an opportunity to reflect on the first move his opponent made. Killer instinct, he already expected that.

      He knew the wolf was fast from their first encounter, and was able to deduce he was strong… but he vastly underestimated the scale to which those qualities applied. That jab stung against his guard, more than the usual one should. He's pretty sure the fist made an actual ‘whoosh’ sound in the air. Something that, until a few seconds ago, he assumed to be exclusive to movie special effects.

      “You're fucking fast,” his opponent huffs, leg raising to deliver a rapid kick to the side.

     At least, that's what he thought. When his guard dropped to protect the area, the kick shifts to aim for the head.

     Obviously, it makes contact, sending him staggering to the right side, only barely managing to slip the sneaky grapple that's attempted on him. 

      “I was just about to say-” a quick wheel kick tumbles out of his nervous system. He frankly didn't mean to, but when he saw out off-balance his opponent was, it was instinctive. “-that” he finishes his statement when seongje lands on his knees, one hand dropping to catch himself.

 To his credit, he does quickly attempt to sweep suho's legs from under him. The only issue was that suho never intended to stay up in the first place.

     For some reason, in mma, the type who show strength in boxing, taekwondo and similar forms tend to shy away from grappling. Which happens to be a strength of suho's. It's how he kept winning. 

     You can teach a talented boxer how to grapple, but they won't practice well if it's not for them. On the other hand, a talented grappler can be taught how to throw a hard punch quite easily. 

      That's not to say that hard punches are the main point of the striking arts, but for the most part, the instinct can be learned over time. 

      His opponent's attempt at a sneaky ankle pick leaves him open for suho's least favourite move. With a sigh, he drops to place seongje into a bulldog choke, hooking his right leg around the body to gain some real-estate. 

     He's running out of steam fast, admittedly. He needs to end this soon, or he'll slow down too much. 

      With a small hiss of exertion, he manages to plant his right foot on the ground and press seongje's chest to the floor. From this position, it's easy to shift his weight and settle into a back mount. 

     Seongje, in a display of good instinct, tries most tricks in the book. He can't seem to get enough momentum to kick suho high enough to give him the slip, though.

      So, he takes a second to regain his surroundings. The steady sound of knives meeting the target with a consistent ‘thumbp’ has ended at some point, replaced with the sound of bickering. He takes the risk to look up, rewarded with the sight of the pair holding knives up to each other in exaggerated fighting positions. They're not attacking each other, just threatening the possibility as they argue about god-knows-what.

       “Goodness. And I thought he was bad with me,” he snorts, remembering how beomseok would frequently try to start arguments with an exhausted and oblivious suho every day. 

      Eventually, the body under him stops squirming. He feels a defeated sigh inflate and deflate the lungs below him before a hand reaches to tap his leg.

       “Tap out,” sieun notes, his voice edged with something suho's not heard on him before. He's not entirely sure what that tone means.

      Regardless, he rolls off his opponent and stands, offering a hand to help him up.

      “I fucking knew you could fight,” seongje groans, sitting up and taking the offer. Tipping his head appreciatively once he's upright. “From the second we met, man. Why are you apologizing to people all the time, especially for things you didn't do? You have the strength to tell people to fuck off when they try to pull bullshit on you.”

       Honestly, if it came from anyone else, he'd assume the person was making fun of his peaceful disposition. From someone like the wolf, though, it feels genuine. Like he can't possibly fathom it. 

       “Because a word or two can be worth not making a scene over nothing. Stuff like that isn't worth the time it takes to fight over it. If someone wants to be mistaken over something inconsequential, it's whatever. I'm not likely to run into most strangers ever again,” he notes, glad he thought to tack in the word ‘most’ when he did. Because it's true, the fact applies to every stranger he's bumped into on the street… except for one, apparently. 

       “You're weird, who turns down a fight they'd probably win?” Seongje snorts, leaping over the ropes precariously and landing on the concrete floor below him, knees bending to soften the impact.

       “The same kind of person who becomes known for turning down trophies due to a lack of space to keep them, I'd suppose.” He snorts, looking over to sieun. With a new mission in mind, he moves to the edge of the ring, sitting so his feet can dangle over the edge while he leans his chest into the ropes. “Was that good?” He asks, not bothering to hide his ambitious desire for praise from the other man.

     Sieun simply nods, stepping up to hand him a water bottle. 

       Suho nearly melts at the gesture, offering his thanks before cracking open the bottle. When he looks back up, sieun is on the punching bag, seongje bracing it from behind for him. 

      Every time his fists meet the high-quality leather, a stinging thud echoes through the room. Every few punches, he winds back for a strong kick. Those land hard enough to make seongje's feet slide back, despite the fact he's clung to the heavy leather bag. 

      It's scary. Intimidating even. 

      It's so fucking hot.

      But also bad for his wound, he shouldn't be putting that much power into it. 

      “Sieun-ah,” he calls, slipping down under the ropes and letting himself slink off the platform, padding over to his twink of preference with an anxious feeling blanketing over him. “You're hitting too hard. I would not trust those bandages to support those muscles around that area. You could permanently damage yourself around there, which could make punching and kicking painful for the foreseeable future.”

        That's all correct, assuming the medical dramas he watches are anything to gleam advice from.

         Sieun pauses at that, turning to look 

over at suho. “I didn't think about that,” he admits, sighing. He dismisses seongje and begins unwrapping his fists and wrists, looking back to the taller. “Oh. You're really-”

      “Sweaty, yeah. Sorry about that,” suho apologizes easily. Pinching his shirt away from his body to let some air in. “It's because I'm out of practice,” he admits, an apologetic smile pulling at his lips. 

      He's caught off guard when a hand slides under his shirt, feeling the abs just above the waistband of his sweats. “I was gonna say ‘hot,’ actually. You look so good like this.”

      Suho's pretty sure that's his line, seeing sieun so prettily flushed from exertion, slightly put of breath and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. He's ethereal, but he's also looking at the taller like he's a starved man presented with his first meal.

       “Jesus, sieun, don't pounce on the guy in public. Spare the man a little dignity, won't you?” Seongje interrupts, pulling suho from arm's reach by his shoulder. “He looks like he's considering fucking you right on the grappling mats, man. Have some self-preservation. You guys need to head back before you traumatize our poor resident lesbian.”

        Sieun huffs in anger. Whether he's angry that suho was pulled away, that he was being talked about in front of his face, or that he was caught, suho couldn't tell.

     What he could tell was that sieun had his mind made up by the time he grabbed the taller's wrist and marched them out the door. 

     “Oh, uh, um, bye guys?! Nice meeting you yeongi!” he calls out, waving with his free hand. 

      About as expected, seongje raises a hand in a half-assed wave, while beomseok raises his hand to lift a middle finger in his direction.

      “Good luck, don't die!” She calls back, waving energetically with the hand holding a knife.

      Mixed messages, but he gets the gist as the door slams shut behind him.

     “Shit,” suho whines, settling back into the plushness of the couch. “How are you good at everything?!” 

      His complaints fall on deaf ears as sieun slides off his lap and slides his shirt back on with a smirk. “I'm starting to believe that you don't actually like what I do- you just like me.”

      The playful whining is cut off at his throat when he processes the statement. “Was all of this not proof enough that I like you? I thought that was kinda clear.” He pouts, looking up to the other. 

      “Wait here, you can shower when I'm done,” sieun explains, lowering his head to place a kiss on suho's sweaty forehead before heading off to the shower. 

      Immediately, the effects of boredom set in. 

     “Umut, baby, where are you?” He calls out to the general open area, searching for his phone that he's pretty sure he'd plugged in earlier. This is the perfect place for some cute and majestic cat pictures. “Aha!”

       His exclamation of triumph is rudely interrupted by his lock screen showing a plethora of missed calls and frantic texts that he's been too distracted to even look at. 

       After reading the third text from another person asking where he went, he decides to get the worst part over with. Five missed calls from his boss, he needs to call back.

       “Director kim gilsoo! I'm so sorry for suddenly disappearing. Something urgent came up and I only now had a chance to charge and access my phone,” he explains, helplessly bowing even over the phone. 

        “Ahn suho. Do you even know what kind of situation you've left me in?” The angry voice asks, the fake calm tone doing nothing to hide how his boss is actually feeling. “Without you at that meeting, our company looked like it was run by a group of monkeys! I looked like a complete idiot because of you.”

      “Ah- I'm so sorry, sir. Someone was stabbed and I-” he starts, only to cut himself off. Gilsoo wouldn't listen to his reasoning, he calls even the most believable reasons ‘excuses’ with reckless abandon. “It won't happen again.”

      “Well, I'm glad to hear that, because that's exactly what I was going to talk to you about. We need to make sure that this never happens again,” the boss explains, sighing. 

     “You're very right, sir. I promise to be more diligent from now on,” he swears, once again bowing to nothing over the phone. It's habitual, when handling men like him.

       “There's no need. We've already taken measures to ensure this is a one-time issue,” relief floods over suho. A few new rules will take some adjustment, but it's nothing his team can't handle. “In fact, tomorrow, don't even worry about coming in.”

     That sounds a little too understanding, now. Suho squints, suspiciously accepting the offer. “Ah, thank you sir-”

     “I'll have one of your subordinates pack your desk for you. You'll receive your belongings through the mail.” The voice interrupts him, followed quickly by the line dropping.

     “Oh” he whispers, staring at his phone blankly. It's been two days since he called in sick to work. Now he's fired. 

      He blinks, dissatisfied with how the itchy feeling refuses to leave his eyes as he moves to sit stiffly on the couch. 

      That's… new. He's never been fired before. He doesn't like how it feels. 

     He doesn't know exactly how long he stays that way, but it's long enough to make his back hurt when a hand on his shoulder snaps him out of it.

    “-ah. Suho-yah?” Sieun calls, watching intensely and relaxing when he notices the man coming back to his senses. His hair drips water onto suho's sweats. He's not in the right mindset to feel it quite yet. “Is everything okay? What happened, hm?” He asks, gentle as ever as he pulls the taller's head closer by the jaw, like he can read a dissertation about whatever is bothering suho from his eyes alone. 

        “It's just-” he sighs, gently placing his hands over the ones cradling him. “My boss called me. Well, former boss now.” 

      Sieun pauses, eyes falling narrow as he processes the admission. “You were fired?” He manages to deduce correctly. His intelligence knows no bounds. When suho nods, he continues. “I've been waiting for something to get him on. Let me sort this out, alright? You get cleaned up, then we can watch a movie and settle in for the night.”

   He nods instantly. That sounds nice. Suho doesn't like the idea of handling anything himself right now. How did he ever survive without-

      Oh good god. 

      He finally processes the scene before him. Sieun is knelt in front of him, dewy doe eyes working in dramatic contrast to the wet body connected to the face. Perfectly shaped muscles padded with enough squish on his tummy to make a grown man squeal. He's built like a god, it's truly not fair. 

     Even worse, he's not clothed yet. The only thing covering him is the towel wrapped around his waist, which has slid down enough to expose at least half of that drool-inducing v-shape-

No.

He needs to shower. He just got fired. Sieun is worried about him. Now is not the time to jump his bones.

     His eyes slide to the neat bandage covering sieun's injury. There's that too. It's just not a good time for any of that. He needs to tuck those thoughts away.

       “Good boy,” sieun purrs, placing a playful kiss on his nose before ushering him to go shower, moving to the dresser to find his next outfit. 

     That's just not fair.

     He must admit, a hot shower is exactly what he needed. He doesn't feel tacky from sweat anymore, his muscles relaxed from their perpetually tense state, and he had the opportunity to clear his mind for a moment, sorting through his thoughts to keep the ones that were necessary, and cleaning out the clutter.

      Sieun had put out a robe for him to wear. A little forward, but who is suho to reject such a beautiful man's advances?

       He leans back on the couch, eyes only barely skimming over the cartoon that had been left on the TV. Sieun is so gentle that it hurts suho more than any injury could lead him to fathom suffering. It coils around his heart with a searing heat that promises to brand the mark onto him permanently. He can practically already feel the scars. 

       As much as it stings, he still craves more. He feels selfish, of course, but sieun makes him feel like he can be selfish for once. Like he can take what he needs without apology, and ask for what he wants without hesitation. 

      It's an intoxicating feeling, and is enough to sedate his usually energetic form whenever they share a space. 

      However, it also clouds over his thoughts. That means that his time alone now is precious in its own way.

      First matter of business being… where is he?

      He knows Sieun is in charge, or at least one of the top members of the power chain. 

     He knows that the wolf works here. Despite his confident nature, he did move like staff. He took direct orders from sieun. He knows sieun well, enough to have closet space in sieun's own home and privileges to watch over and handle umut. 

      That girl, yeongi… she's scary. He can't tell if she has rank over seongje and beomseok or if she's just like that, and her strength is enough to let her get away with it. She seems nice enough, though.

     He should make sure to stay on her good side. 

     Right, beomseok. He acted different when suho had worn what sieun had given him. Did he recognize something from the outfit? He's clearly scared of sieun, even trying to stop suho from approaching him in the office lobby. 

     He seems to be newer than the other two- he was the only person who dared to interrupt direct orders from sieun, and it didn't seem to be from the knowledge that nothing would happen. 

      Despite seongje's dramatic and very kidnap-feeling method, suho settles on the conclusion that this is some hideout that sieun is in charge of. 

      That leads to the second question. What is sieun? 

     Suho would hate to stereotype but this isn't exactly what he'd consider to be the energy that surrounds an underground crime syndicate. It's closer to the interactions he would see at his old gym. 

    He knows for certain that this isn't a martial arts gym, though. Gyms don't have bedroom suites, or bathrooms that could qualify as a small spa, or a personal chef, if his memory of the conversation sieun and yeongi had post-nap can be trusted. 

     Sieun mentioned working in an office, but if he's in charge, that doesn't really narrow anything down. Suho would bet that even mafia bosses have an office to work out contracts, wages, and whatever else is necessary to not get busted.

      His face involuntarily warms as he remembers the rest of what sieun said about having that office. 

     What would that make their relationship? Friends with benefits? That seems most likely, though he'd much prefer the label ‘boyfriends’, he knows he can't be too picky with someone as perfect as sieun.

      In what feels like a blink of an eye, his thoughts are violently interrupted by the door slamming open. Umut hisses from whatever sleeping spot she'd just been startled from.

    Sieun would never act like this. 

     Reluctantly, he lifts his eyes to see the perpetrator, seongje, slightly wide eyed in the doorway. “I've got good news and bad news-” he starts, only for his eyes to slowly rake over suho, absorbing every detail. It makes him feel disgusting. “Wow, loverboy, I never thought you'd be the seductive type. It's a good look on you, though.”

       He hastily ensures he's fully covered before glaring at the taller man. There may be some sort of situation going on, but there is a particularly unpalatable level of shame that comes from being made fun of while your dick or ass is hanging out.

        “Good news first,” he sighs, deciding to ignore the ragebait. He just wants to get this over with quickly.

      Seongje snorts, moving further into the room, much to suho's distaste. “The good news is, we know where sieun is, and its not where we worried he would be.”

     Huh?

     The confusion must have been evident across his face, because yeongi speaks up from where she had been patiently standing beside the door. Seongje's presence is so loud, she didn't even register to suho until now. That makes him feel a little guilty. “Aish, seongje, just break the news before I break your fucking nose.”

       Seongje shoots her a vaguely frightened look, before turning back to suho. “Bad news is, sieun's been kidnapped… so there's a lot of questions that we can't answer right now, but here's what you need to know.” He takes a moment, checking to make sure suho is following. “Sieun has a lot of enemies. He's not a bad person, but he does run an organized crime ring so… Yeah. If you've ever heard of Grey, the leader of the white mambas, that would be your little sweetheart. The people who took him aren't actually from a big gang, which is why we're turning to you-”

       Yeongi steps in after grimacing at several stumbles in seongje's speech. Hopefully she can clarify some things. “Boss already marked you as his temp if things go wrong and he's unavailable. I'm sure he intended to have a talk with you before that happened, but this should be manageable. The thing is, we have reason to believe that they don't actually know who they have. We need you to pretend to be him.”

       Suho doesn't really know what to say. For one, he's not sure if he's cut out to play the part. He's a rather giggly guy. He likes to smile and quip when he fights, and that doesn't exactly scream ‘professional criminal’ to onlookers. It's not a look he usually is going for. If anything, he'd rather come off as a friendly neighborhood vigilante. 

         “I'm sure you've noticed,” he starts, cautious. “But I'm nothing like sieun… like, at all. Absolutely nobody is going to believe that I'm in charge of anything.”

       “That's where we help. I'll dress you to look the part, using seongje's wardrobe, then we'll escort you to the premises with our usual arrangement. That's half the look already managed. All you need to do is know how to fight, be willing to fight, and keep your confidence that you could probably beat everyone in that room. Which, I'll tell you right now, you could.” Yeongi explains, pushing past the taller to get to suho, helping him stand up and move down the hallway and through the third door to the left. 

     Based on the clothes strewn around the floor, and the dog-eared manhwa sitting around the room, suho can only assume he knows exactly where he is. 

      “Welcome to the wolf's den,” she mutters, sounding utterly disgusted as she shoves a pile of clothes away from the closet door, opening it to reveal a neatly hung line of expensive-looking clothes. They appear to be completely frozen in time, like the door hasn't even been opened in five years. “I think… boss had a point with that dark red.”

       He watches the pensive look on her face as she single-handedly enacts some lesbian spinoff of the hit TV show- queer eye. 

         It's fascinating, really, the amount of effort she puts into constructing an outfit for suho which, when finally on him, is not far from the outfit sieun had him in for work, but accompanied by a suit vest and a golden pocket watch, the chain carefully draped across the side of his waist with a careful precision. His hair is subjected to no small amount of hair wax, pulled back away from his face, with the odd strand or two curling down to brush his forehead or stray into the air. 

     She calls the look “effortless perfection.” The concept made it incredibly difficult to keep a straight face as seongje led the way to the car. What's so effortless about a 45 minute makeover? And here he thought they'd be in a hurry to save their kidnapped boss. 

        “Watch your head,” seongje warns weakly, a guilty look in his eye as suho steps into the uncomfortably luxurious vehicle interior. “Yeongi and beom will be in the other van, they only intend to provide backup. It'll be just the two of us until things go horribly wrong.” He explains, crawling in to sit across from the other, eyes settling on the floor between their seats. 

      “Three, assuming sieun is conscious,” he corrects, adjusting the sleeve on his right wrist to allow him enough movement for this operation. 

     “Optimistically, yes, but we need to run off the assumption he's not,” seongje explains. As he looks off to the side, his jaw noticeably clenches once he faces the window. He must be anxious about everything. He's facing a new gang without his trusted leader, is making a public enemy of whoever managed to catch someone as omnipotent as sieun off his guard, and his entire fate lies in the hand of someone who does not fill him with confidence with all of the questions he has had up until this point. 

     Suho understands his mindset, but he hopes that his determination will make up for any knowledge he lacks. 

      Well, his determination and his strength in fights. He figures he'll have to brute his way through this, to some degree. 

      As they pull up to what must be the correct location, seongje finally looks up, reaching across the space between them to adjust suho's outfit, fussing over his hair and ensuring that he doesn't leave the vehicle looking disheveled. 

     He flashes the the other a small smile, which seems to calm the man a little bit. 

     “I'm assuming I'd call you by your code name, and introduce myself as… am I Grey or the white mamba?” He tries, grimacing at his uncertainty.

      “You, introducing yourself?” Seongje snorts as he pulls the door open. “Don't bother. Someone's gonna beat you to it. Grey isn't a name you forget in the underground.”

      “Right. Okay, that makes sense,” he sighs, exiting the vehicle and correcting his posture. Passively, he also tries to relax his face, especially around his eyes. He might not have a resting bitch face, but eyelids expressing disinterest can't be completely useless in trying to rough up his ultimately golden-retriever image. 

        “Just worry about sitting there and looking pretty,” the man assures him, patting his back before pausing. “And punching people. You're scary when you fight. It'll help.” 

        The facade he tried to build up shatters in an instant. “Waaah! The great and mighty wolf is afraid of someone like me? What an honor! I'm so grateful wolf-ssi, that means a lot coming from you!”

      Seongje squawks in disbelief but doesn't make any other comment. They have a role to play, and he probably can't get away with hitting his temporary fake boss. 

      Beomseok elects to stay back for the extraction, muttering something about backup. Suho has a sneaking suspicion that he just doesn't want to pretend that his office nuisance is his boss.

    He gets that, even if his unwillingness to participate in sieun's rescue spreads an uncomfortable heat beneath his skin. 

      Suho will make himself useful enough for the both of them. 

      Seongje opens the door to an unassuming shop front. Aside from appearing to be undergoing renovations, it looks completely normal. He supposes that's the point. 

      Once they pass the dust barrier, a flimsy hanging tarp, it is a bit closer to what he would expect from a mob hangout. Grimy concrete with brown stains that he doesn't want to think too much about. A vague hint of a sickeningly sweet scent that's too distinct to mistake for anything edible. His nose crinkles in disgust as he looks back to seongje, who is a little more schooled in his expression, though his scoff is more than enough to betray how he feels about the sanitation of this particular hideout. 

      His poor sieunie, in such a disgusting place. 

       A man stops them at the first door, mumbling something about being closed, not even looking up from his phone yet. 

      Right, time to act. 

      Suho puts on an air of authority, double checking his posture and settling his eyelids to slice his iris in half. “Tch, this is how you treat an invited guest around these parts? These new kids, no respect, huh?” He scoffs, meeting the eyes of his audience with a challenging but bored stare. 

       “We can handle it, boss,” the wolf starts, stepping up to be beside suho. He does look ready to kill a man, his acting isn't half bad- he looks rather offended on his ‘boss's  behalf. 

        “No need,” suho scoffs, sparing one last glance to a set of scared eyes before raising a foot to bury it deep into his upper abdomen and watches with vague satisfaction as he crumples against the door he was guarding. “Now, you'll tell me where my… generous host is, won't you?” 

      Yeongi makes a vague sound of approval when suho reaches down to lift the chin of the shattered man. 

      Suho glances behind him, looking to the woman who must have silently approached amid the small scuffle. Did something happen outside?

     He peeks around, noting no sign of beomseok. No, then. She'd be making a fuss if something happened to beomseok, and he wouldn't dare follow suho into danger unless he was escaping something far more humiliating. 

She must be here to protect the disguise she had spent so long crafting. 

       “Yes- yes of course,” he agrees a little too eagerly, voice breaking over the fear that seems to paralyze his body and mind alike. With that, suho lets his eyes refocus on his task at hand, and after a second, he finally takes the hint to keep speaking “he's in the basement. The stairs are at the end of the hall inside,” he gestures with his head to the door he's leaning on. 

     Clear enough instructions. They can leave this one alone now. 

      “Good boy,” he praises emptily, releasing the chin to pat the man's cheek before shoving him aside to open the door.

         Seongje lets out a small snort at the sight, probably amused by suho's pathetic attempts to look strong and domineering. Shockingly enough, he's not really built for a role like this. 

        Someone opens a door beside him. That's not the basement, so it's not important. He almost ignores the room's occupants, but the knife jabbed in his direction is a little distracting. He was admittedly caught off guard, so the unfortunate victim of his instincts fell to the ground after being on the wrong end of a full-forced uppercut from an experienced martial artist. 

      The other person in the room seems to have more sense, backing away from the scene with their arms up. It's a war crime to attack a surrendering enemy, and suho figures that even gangs follow a code of some sort. 

       He waves the wolf off of their scent and continues along their way. 

        A group of five more people stumble out of another room behind them. They must have heard the ruckus from the other two. 

        Seongje huffs and takes a step forward, only to be forced back several steps by suho's hand gripping the back of his jacket collar. 

     “Let me,” he dismisses, moving forward to take his first few steps before landing the first strike, watching the target's head recoil from the force. He feels a little bad, throwing the first punch, but if you really thought about it, they basically shot him first by trying to steal sieun from him, so it's basically not his fault.

      He ducks a particularly unpalatable looking punch, and provides one of his own in retaliation, trying to not take too much joy from the moment of impact. 

       The process rhymes a few more times, ending with a grapple that slammed the head of the offending party into the floor with enough force to have suho checking their pulse in a panic. 

      “I may have gone a little overboard,” he mutters to the mafiosi at his side. Yeongi dismisses the idea with a flick of the wrist, shooing him to move along. 

        “No such thing. Let's find your boy, yeah?” Seongje snorts, seemingly amused by suho's boundaries when it comes to his use of violence.

      Regardless of his feelings, he does head to the staircase, descending it with a very fake carefree nature.

       The second he reaches the bottom, another set footsteps ring from the top. Since there are people inside the basement, and seongje seems alert enough, suho decides to ignore the footsteps. He would looks stupid if he whipped around just to see beomseok, and seongje and yeongi would have his back if it's someone dangerous.

       “My, that's quite the collection,” he hums, letting his eyes graze over the knife-weilding crowd to finally land on his sieun. He seems to be okay, he's offering a pretty nasty glare to the man standing over the seat he's bound to. “It's a shame the crown piece is stolen.”

      “Boss! That's him, he- mmph!” A voice calls from behind him, promptly silenced by what must be seongje's quick thinking. 

       “Wolf, don't be rude. We're guests, let our host's men speak,” suho chides calmly, turning to see who ran into the room. Ah, the one he spared. Maybe he shouldn't have…

     Or maybe this is useful. 

      “He took down all the men upstairs. alone.” The interruption explains, scrambling from the wolf's grip like they're still in danger. 

      Suho supposes he can't blame them for not knowing that the canine is trained, being trapped in his maw must be nothing short of terrifying. 

     “That's true,” he snorts, letting his eyes land on sieun again. “So, what's this about? I'm not too fond of the way you're damaging my doll, here. I really won't be in the mood to negotiate unless you can prove those ropes aren't going to leave bruises.”

       The offender sighs, before slumping where he stands. He leans too close to sieun. Suho can feel a dangerous level of anger attempt to boil over his heart at just the thought alone. 

       “I really thought you were going to be more reasonable,” he chides, tugging sieun from his seat by the tension of the ropes on his wrists. “Let's try this again. Hello, Grey, welcome to my humble abode. My name is hyoman.” 

     He holds his hand out for a handshake, like this is some western mafia film. 

      “Ah, so you're the irritable and irrational man that pretends to run this joint, hm?” He asks, feeling a nearly evil idea spark in the back of his head. He steps up, accepting the hand stretched out for him, before moving his hand a little further. 

      He grips the wannabe boss's wrist, and drags him into his own rapidly rising knee. A nice and solid knee kick of shame to start the inevitable fight. 

     The second hyoman release sieun, the shorter makes a move to escape, dropping as seongje kicks a knife to his feet, so he can release his own hands while the others are busy. 

     Satisfied with sieun's safety, suho focuses on the fight. 

     He takes a moment to catch some of the others off guard. 

    One is knocked off his axis by a well-placed kick to the head, stumbling directly into the vicinity of a giddy seongje, who sounds more than willing to take care of the issue, if his wheezy giggles are anything to go by. 

     The next needs a few hits, he has a good guard, but suho is still faster. When he lands a solid uppercut, the opponent collapses to his knees. Okay, opponent two needs a breather, there's no need to stick to him.

     He hits opponent three in the solar plexus and watches with an unfortunate amount of satisfaction as they discover what it's like to have their diaphragm freeze from sheer pain. He delivers a kick to the head while they're bent over gasping for air, and sends one over for opponent two as well, for equilibrium. He likes balance in his fights, he'll feel wonky if he prefers one limb over the other. 

      Hyoman tries to grip him by the hair, so suho drills his left hook into the man's ribs, only to notice something that settles a feeling akin to doom into his gut. 

     They're in completely different weight classes. Suho doesn't have enough mass to hurt this man in any meaningful way. He'll have to use hyoman's mass to win this.

     His eyes glance to the three others he beat. Sure, he beat them quickly to save energy, but it's not like he went easy on the hits. The whole point was giving it his all, but now he is starting to feel the consequences. 

     Hyoman grips his shoulders and knocks him down with a painful headbutt, watching with satisfaction when suho lands on his knees, dazed. 

     “I thought you would be a little more impressive than this, Grey. This is disappointing. I'll admit you have some talent, and some fancy words… but you're weak. Stupid, too, for coming here to get something you clearly didn't earn.” He snorts, moving to look back to where he dropped sieun. 

      It's suho's turn to let out a small laugh as he notices that his bargaining chip is missing. “Like you're one to talk,” he mumbles. The room is still dizzy, but he could be on his death bed and still end up finding a way to praise sieun in the middle of a conversation. “What's more stupid? Playing the part of a distraction, or assuming the taller half of the couple is the one in charge?” 

       Sieun moves almost in synch with his thoughts, tackling the man to the ground and- to suho's surprise- turning back to suho. 

        “Take this,” he orders, passing a knife to the dazed man, holding the blade in a pinch of two fingers so suho can safely grip the handle. 

     He takes it, not sure what it's for, and wobbles over to the shorter on his knees. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask, he just kneels next to the only man he could equally fear and trust with his whole heart.

      “Good boy, suho-ya. You've done so well,” sieun praises easily, before gently gripping suho's wrist, lifting the knife to hyoman's chest, the tip delicately indenting the fabric of the shirt it's pressed into. When he lets go, the weight dips it a little further, letting a small puncture occur. A tiny dribble of blood escapes the skin below, and suho suppresses his flinch, choosing to look up to sieun with wide, questioning eyes. “Go on. Push it in. He deserves this, after forcing you to come all the way down here, risking yourself in the process. He hurt you. This is his penance.” 

        Suho takes a shuddering breath, looking up to his victim's face. His eyes are full of fear and regret. Maybe if they stopped now, he'd have learned his lesson. Maybe they can consider this a warning, and he won't do this again? His hand shakes, rapidly losing stability alongside his mental state. 

     “Now, suho,” the command cuts through the static in his ears, and he plunges the knife down without a second thought. This man hurt sieun, he had it coming. He immediately knows he missed the heart, from the way he gasps for air, screams, and starts to plead with sounds that almost form words. 

     “Ple- agh, don d-thi,” he cries, arms scrambling to reach for the knife buried in his chest, only for sieun to move, stomping on his right hand, then his left. 

     Suho is stuck. Frozen. He just tried to kill a man. He did kill the man, really, with how much blood is gushing. He's suffering because of suho. His death is painful and lonely because of suho, he doesn't even have his subordinates to comfort him. 

      Tears stream down his face as his ears begin to ring louder than the weakening cries for mercy. Soon, he feels hands cupping his face, and thumbs gently wiping his tears away. It's ineffective, since sieun's hands are also warmly wet, but the sentiment is soothing. 

     When he opens his eyes again, all he can see is sieun. Beautiful, stoic sieun, with his gaze softening once more for suho. 

     “You're okay,” he soothes, “you're alright, puppy, I've got you. You're all done, we'll take this from here, okay?” He asks gently, taking a moment to scratch suho's cheek gently before standing.

      Suho dutifully nods, before noticing the stark silence in the room. His eyes drift over to hyoman, noticing the handle of a knife stuck into the temple of his head. 

    So sieun finished him off. 

    Suho didn't kill him.

     Relief floods his body, and he feels his shoulders sag as his head drops, eyes drifting to watch his lap with a clouded stare. Everything is okay now. Sieun is safe. Suho is safe. The others are okay. This will pass, sieun will handle it. 

     Suho opens his eyes when the car hits a particularly rough bump. Sieun runs a hand through his hair, watching attentively, while his other hand rests on the taller's knee. A glance over to the other set of seats shows beomseok and seongje watching him carefully, like he'll shatter if he even thinks about moving. 

     Maybe he will. 

      His eyelids grow heavy again, and when sieun tries to keep him awake, he only feels his eyes cloud over instead. He can't focus them on anything, and he can't really hear much. It's boring here. He can't see, he can't hear, he can only feel the gentle pull of the motor and sleep. He lets the kinetic energy take him with it. 

     Suho feels wet, he notices. He also feels warm, but only in some spots. 

     His eyes fly open when he recognizes the feeling of bare skin against the air and soaked boxers. He's met with a very focused expression on sieun's face, as he's thoroughly perched on suho's lap as he gently scrubs at his face. 

     The cloth comes away red. There was blood on suho's face? 

     His mind provides a small glimpse of a memory, sieun wiping his tears with a wet hand. The knife sieun had stuck into hyoman. 

     He lets out a soft whine at the memory, effectively gathering the shorter's attention. 

      “Oh, hello there, sweet boy,” he coos softly, pressing a small kiss to suho's nose. “Welcome back. You did so well today, did you know that?”

      If suho had any ability to speak when he regained his senses, he lost them again with just that. With sieun pressed up against him like he's trying to fuse them together while in his lap, saying such sweet words, he's at a complete loss. 

     Met with an empty blink, sieun extends mercy to suho. “Sweet thing. Everything is better now, don't worry. I'm safe, you're safe, and nobody expects you to do anything now except sitting pretty and being a good boy.” He explains, finishing off rinsing suho's face once he determines it clean. “The pretty part is easy, and you're a good boy, aren't you?”

      Suho lacks the mental facilities to even dare think something different, so he nods enthusiastically, earning a small smile. 

     When they leave the warmth of the shower, suho barely has a chance to mourn the comfort before he's wrapped in a large, plush towel. It's not a robe like before, but it's so much more comfortable.

      “Boxers off, I'll get you a dry pair,” sieun orders, already walking away from where he deposited suho onto the bed. He listens immediately, kicking off the pair with enough enthusiasm to make sieun turn back around to make sure the taller wasn't dying or experiencing some sort of medical emergency from all the sound his shifting had made on the bed. 

      “Oh, you poor thing,” he croons softly, taking in the sight of suho's desperation to behave. “So focused on being a good boy, huh?” He asks, moving back over to the bed to rewrap the towel around suho's body. Oh. He must have accidentally knocked the fabric off of himself while tossing about to remove the article of clothing. 

      Suho can feel his face heat up, but he's not sure why. He must be embarrassed about something- but he honestly doesn't have the mind to know what it is. Sieun looks like a god from this angle. Even more dangerous is the way his eyes skim over the other's frame. He didn't even look at the meals they've shared with a glint so hungry. 

       It makes him feel small. Like he's something sieun could just scoop up in one hand. Like a rabbit staring at the gaping maw of a wolf. 

      Wordlessly, the shorter slips new boxers over suho's legs, gently pushing them up under the towel with both hands. He lifts his hips to help with the process, only settling once the clothing is properly in place. 

      “Such a good boy for me, I didn't even have to ask,” sieun praises easily, hand sliding up to pat his abdomen in praise. Belly rubs, his mind offers as an explanation, like a puppy. “can you let me check you for injuries? I'll be gentle,” he tries, fingers curling to pinch the edges of the towel. 

      He nods easily, letting the fabric fall away from him with the help of sieun's hands. When they reposition, poking and prodding at his abs, before sliding to his ribs and chest, he lets his own eyes fall shut. Sieun is probably going to use the fight as an excuse to feel him up for a while.

      He doesn't mind that, he finds. 

    Suho wakes to find a body curled up beside his own. He doesn't have to check to know who's hand is splayed across his abs protectively under the blanket. This is something he could get used to, for sure. 

     “Awake?” Sieun asks suddenly, voice low with caution, like he's afraid he misidentified suho's state, was didn't wish to wake him. As if he didn't already have everything about suho figured out. When he opens his eyes, the other continues, “let's get some food into you, then we'll figure out what I'm supposed to do with you, huh?” He offers, a small smile threatening to part his lips. 

      Suho nods sleepily, hands raising to rub at his eyes. He hears a soft coo break the silence while he yawns and stretches, and he can't help but laugh drowsily at how down bad sieun can act at times. 

      “What's so funny, hm?” The shorter teases, offering his hand. When it's taken, he proceeds to drag suho to the table, where an impressive spread waits for them. He would wonder why he didn't smell it, but the items explain themselves. All cold items. Fruits, vegetables, dips, cheeses, and sushi.

       Unlike before, suho doesn't have the energy to fight against attempts to dote on him, so he finds himself cross-eyed, watching as various foods are pressed against his lips until they obediently open again to let the piece pass through.

       “I see you eyeing the strawberries but you need real food first,” sieun tuts when he hesitates a moment too long for a piece of a salmon avocado roll. Reluctantly, he lets the food into his mouth, deciding to lick the other's fingers as a petty revenge. “Aw, puppy. Thanks for the kisses.”

     The petty thoughts that had run past his brain just moments ago suddenly feel like a vengeful spirit had possessed him in comparison to how he feels now. He is not suho, manager of a hard working office team. He's not ahn suho, martial artist. And he's certainly not ‘loverboy’, the man who made the infamous wolf tap out in a ring. 

   No.

     None of that.

       He's so much better than that.

        He's sieun's puppy, and he's a good boy. A sweet thing. And sieun said he's pretty! 

       A soft whine slips past his throat, and sieun's unoccupied hand is quickly moving to soothe through his hair, petting him. “That's my good boy,” sieun hums, offering praise that seems to come from a bottomless well. 

     It's only once he's fed to sieun's standards that he gets to try the fruits dipped in a chocolate spread. Once again, not from his own hands. His conscience snapped into place somewhere between licking the sweet juices off of the other's fingers, and gently pinching the pads of those fingers between his teeth. 

     He abruptly stops the action, pulling back while sieun grabs a napkin to wipe his hand and suho's face. “Sorry” he mumbles, feeling his face heat up as he notices just how much has happened during his floaty time. Sieun bathed him, absolutely saw his dick, massaged him to sleep, and is now feeding him by hand for a second time. 

       It's too much.

       “Sorry for what?” Sieun snorts, tossing the napkin back onto the table. “I'm glad you're more lucid, because we need to discuss how this is going to work. Clearly, I had different plans for how you were meant to find out about my… profession. So let's do that first. How involved do you want to be? As comare, it's entirely up to you. You can work beside me, have a task force to yourself, or be completely uninvolved entirely, or anything in between.”

       “I don't-” he starts, uncertain, before deciding to just go for it “what's a comare?” He feels so stupid, like he should obviously know the meaning of his own title, but he hasn't really had the context clues or opportunity to learn this on his own.

       Sieun smiles shyly at him, deciding to stand and bring them both to sit back in the bed. He waits until they're both settled before speaking. “Comare… literally translates to ‘godmother.’ In an organized crime setting, it's mainly just the fastest way for me to tell everyone else that you're mine.”

         Suho feels the heat in his face spread. He's sure that if he lifted his shirt, the colour would be well down his chest at this point. “Godmother- like the godfather? Yours?!”

        Sieun seems amused by his reaction, reaching up to drag his fingers through the slightly displaced hair. “Suho-yah, please refrain from acting so dense during serious topics. I'm finding it hard to restrain myself. I'm certain I've made my intentions clear.” He smiles, almost to himself, before returning his attention to suho. “That's alright, I'll just make them clearer. Ahn suho, be my boyfriend. You'll never have to worry your pretty little head about anything ever again.”

    Wide-eyed and nodding hard enough to risk his brain attempting to escape through his nose, suho agrees. “Yes! Boyfriend, yes. Yeah.”

     Sieun snorts at his enthusiasm and catches his chin to keep him from hurting himself. “So eager,” he teases, letting his eyes roam over the other's face with a barely contained hunger. 

     Suho's eyes follow helplessly as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. It's stupid how attractive that was to him. Sieun could probably… ha. He'd argue that sieun could probably kill a man and still be irresistible, but he already knows that's true. He killed several men and was so hot that he drained all thought from suho's head like he had pulled the plug. 

        Right. Answer. Sieun asked a question.

        “Uh, I really don't want to do… that ever again. But I do want to be helpful, so, I guess I'll do whatever you want me to when it comes to your work?” He tries, offering a small, nervous smile. 

       “You would trust me with that? Picking your responsibilities personally?” Sieun seems surprised, like suho hasn't been trusting him with his whole life since they've met. 

     “Of course,” he hums, eyes falling closed when the familiar feeling of a hand tangling in his hair sends tingles across his scalp. “Especially now, you're the best boyfriend a guy could find.”

       That manages to draw a small laugh from the other, and he feels the warm puff of breath against the skin of his neck. The other must have drawn closer while he couldn't see. “I suppose you would think that, since you don't know what it's like to be with yourself.”

      Suho blushes at that. He knows he does, because his face burns hot like a fever, and even his neck and chest start to feel a little warm. It's certain sieun can tell by now. 

        Sieun responds to the blush with mercy, affording the crook of his neck a small kiss before drawing back. “You'll be the most spoiled comare in history, you know that? I'll get the finest silks to dress you in, so you can roam the hideout and my office as you please. Won't that be nice? Ah, speaking of the office.” He starts, leaning back away to grab his still-bloody coat from the floor, pulling an envelope from the dry side's inside pocket.

        “What's that?” Suho asks uselessly, watching as his hands are pulled out in front of him to receive the package. 

         “Open it.”

        So, he does. 

        He gently unfolds the paper inside, noticing the distinct design of his boss- ex boss's injang.

       This document hereby presents employee Ahn Suho with the opportunity to return to his original working position before his wrongful termination, alongside a pay raise of 35%. 

       Failure to comply with safety protocol by Kim Gilsoo will result in immediate termination of the aforementioned and compensation in the form of a doubled paycheck for Mr. Ahn. 

        By marking this paper, Mr. Kim agrees to these conditions to retain his working position. 

     “oh” he says dumbly, staring at kim gilsoo's stamp near the bottom of the paper. “is this what you went out to do? Sieun-ah,” he starts, but he feels his throat tighten. Oh no. Don't cry, suho. 

      “of course. If you don't come back, he loses his job as a consequence for driving away such an important employee as well! Even if I didn't grow to like you over the past few days, I probably still would have threatened him with nearly violent consequences for firing you.” he explains with a shrug. 

     When suho stares blankly at him, he continues. “your whole team put in their resignation letters the second your desk lost its name tag. Firing you loses your whole team, and your team is almost three times as efficient as the second best team. Plus, you were with me.”

      Suho almost laughs, but he has a sinking feeling that he's serious about all of this. “How? I'm so lost,” he admits, shaking his head to try to disperse some of the fog that pushed its way into the corner of his mind while sieun had explained why he went out of his way to put the fear of god into his abuser. 

       The corners of sieun's mouth suddenly pull down tightly. Aw, his smile is so cute. He snuggles in against suho's side and lowers them down into the bed. It's only when he lifts the bed covers that he finally speaks. “Suho-yah, I own the company. Baekjin and I had founded it to have a good explanation for our income.”

      “Baekjin… Baku’s boyfriend?” suho recalls groggily, lifting his head to look at the other. “What happened between you two?”

       Sieun looks uncomfortable for a moment, shifting in his spot until he's half on top of suho. “he's a logical person like me, that's why we got along so well to begin with. We used to rule the underground together, as two halves to the strongest family in the Korean crime world. But, he started taking risks that don't make sense, we lost a lot of people to his whims that hurt people- physically, emotionally, psychologically.”

       “he didn't see them as people,” suho realizes out loud, eyes widening at the ceiling.

        “exactly. Seongje was his right hand, his assistant, secretary, bodyguard, and best friend, all in one. But one day, during one of our fights over whether our employees were disposable, he snuck past us and into my office. He looked awful, and asked if there was any way he could work under me instead. That was my last straw. I called him a monster, forced him to sell his shares of the company to me, and took everyone I could grab before he could think about just killing me instead.” 

       “but he seems so unlike that with baku,” suho sighs, thinking about what baku had said about their relationship. They seemed like a happy couple, all things considered.

       “true. I'd never seen him like that with anyone before. Maybe, if this baku friend of yours works on him enough, my old friend could resurface within him,” he sighs, nuzzling into suho one last time before letting his eyes fall shut. 

         Enough years have passed for the company to not recall an abusive founder, yet sieun still dreams of a day where he can call his enemy his friend again. 

       As if he needed anything to sell the idea to him more. His boyfriend is perfect.