At Gunpoint 3/10
Title: At Gunpoint 3/10
Pairing: Jonghyun/Key
Genre: AU
Rating: PG for this chapter
Summary: Jonghyun's mind can't stop racing and the sun won't stop glaring into his eyes, when he almost runs over some kid with his bike.
A/N: And now for some action. Things are shaping up, slowly but surely. I'd love to hear from you, know if I'm doing everything fine ♥
Jonghyun's mind can't stop racing and the sun won't stop glaring into his eyes, when he almost runs over some kid with his bike. Close call, he thinks after a last-moment swerve which is just as smooth as it is jerky.
Does the guy have a death wish, anyway?
He gets to the hotel just two blocks and three internal swears later. Begrudgingly, he handles his keys over to the valet waiting outside, making sure to fix him with a warning stare. He stands there to watch for a second, as his bike is being driven away and underground.
Baggage in hand, his eyes soon fall on the grand entrance of the building, double doors and all, and the traffic already amazes him. It's still pretty early in the morning, but people keep rushing in and out, thick aromas all over the place and professionalism intensely present in everybody's aura. High season already.
He walks in, having the doors opened for him and being greeted by a young man in a uniform. He bows his head slightly as he walks past the door man, and heads over to the reception, old sport shoes scraping against polished marble. As soon as he rests his hands on the smooth surface of the front desk, he's welcomed by a smiling girl.
"Good morning, sir!" she says excitedly, and Jonghyun can't help but admit to himself that a position like this must be demanding. They all have to be so sunshiney. "How may I help you?"
"I'm Mr. Park's nephew," he informs while setting his baggage down, and lets himself be amused by the changes in her expression. From cheerfulness to surprise to seriousness, she finally comes around and looks down briefly, soft, blond curls brushing past her shoulders. Jonghyun is asked to confirm that it's the same man they're talking about, and the girl eventually nods.
"Let me get the front office manager for you?" she suggests with a probably uncertain smile, and leaves at Jonghyun's yes. He sees her talk with a boy that may as well be younger than her in the other side of the reception, thumbs pointing towards Jonghyun's direction.
Seconds later, he's being approached by the same male, his hair bouncing with every step and smile radiating. Seriously, did they go looking for staff in kindergartens?
"Good morning," Jonghyun's greeted for the upteenth time today, and the boy immediately starts typing away on the computer underneath the desk. The golden tag pinned on his chest reads Taemin, and his characteristics are almost extremely soft. "Song Yongjin, right?" he asks.
"Exactly," Jonghyun nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet. At least his fake name sounds pretty.
The typing goes on. "First day at work, as well, yes?" he looks up for a bit, fingers moving on their own, and Jonghyun is frankly surprised by his attempt at small talk. Of course he's the front office manager for a reason.
"Oh, yeah. Already pumped," he replies but doesn't elaborate, just waits for Taemin to either get on with the conversation or just get the job done silently. His companion isn't exactly unpleasant, to be honest, but it's a bit too early for chit chat, for Jonghyun's standards.
"All right," he exclaims and turns around, facing the large, wooden case behind him. His hand reaches for something on the very left and he turns back to Jonghyun immediately. He sets the newly acquired item in front of the older boy. "Here's your room key. Now, if you could sit over there for a bit, I could call the executive housekeeper for you, to show you the ropes and guide you to your room," he offers, finger pointing towards what seems to be the waiting area. Jonghyun nods.
"Thank you," he says before picking the key off the desk and bending for his baggage, not missing the other's have a nice stay.
Barely five minutes of brushing his fingers against velvet later, Jonghyun notices someone. It's not like nobody else is there -quite the opposite, what with all the people buzzing around him-, but this is different. Because the dude is tall, tall like he could tower over Jonghyun effortlessly, and he's coming for him. He's dressed plainly but strictly, possibly like most of the staff, but he walks with confidence and he means business. Jonghyun doesn't know whether to mock him or respect him.
"Song Yongjin?" he asks the moment he stops in front of Jonghyun, and the latter stands up.
"So they say," he replies cockily, but doesn't receive any decent reaction. At least none he can actually see.
The guy extends his hand, offering his palm. "Choi Minho, executive housekeeper. Welcome aboard."
Jonghyun takes the hand offered, fingers tightening mildly, but grasped intensely by the other's. He can already tell; this one's a good one, quiet but absolute. He's bound to receive some scolding from him, even though he doubts he's older than he is.
Minho withdraws his hand a second later, spine all too straight. "Shall we?" he suggests, even though it's not really a suggestion, and Jonghyun kind of hurries to walk behind him. He should have thought taller guys have longer strides.
Stepping past men in suits and a few women, he's led towards one of the three double-doored elevators. The boy pushes the button for the one of the very right, equally well-polished as the other two. The discreet engraving on the silver frame enveloping the button reads Staff Only and when the lift arrives, the cubicle's empty.
"You only use this one," Minho tells him in a plain tone while stepping in, and Jonghyun nods. "The housekeeping station is on minus one. So is my office. You won't be spending much time there, though."
"I see," he replies, one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other one still carrying his bag. His eyes follow as Minho's fingers fly over the panel opposite them, the moment the doors close. He presses the button labelled as eighteen and withdraws, hands crossed over his crotch.
They fall in silence for the following minute, the quiet interrupted only by the purring of the elevator. Jonghyun absently looks at himself in the hazy reflection of the sliding doors. It'll take him a good while, getting used to his permanently dyed hair. Sure, he accepted spraying it raven for business' sake, but that wouldn't be convenient in this case. Now all blond strands have been replaced with brown. Eh, tolerable, I guess.
They reach the eighteenth floor seconds later, Minho stepping out first. Jonghyun is caught between whistling and snorting. He bets just the wallpaper surrounding them costs more than an average-quality rifle.
"I've been told you've worked as a housekeeper before?" Minho asks the moment they start walking.
Sure. "Yeah, for a summer or two," he lies, acknowledging the other's studying look on him. "You know, back in my hometown and stuff," he smiles a little.
He nods, looking straight ahead. "So this should be familiar - front office informs us of any customers leaving, I assign you rooms, you clean and restock. No hasty work. All dirty linen," he pauses as they walk over to the other corner of the floor, palm touching the metal chute on the wall, "is to be dumped here. Past this stage, it stops being our responsibility."
Jonghyun nods. "Got that."
They resume walking. "Any special request -from extra washcloths to dinner- is delivered by anybody available." He looks at him a little pointedly, "Tips are given accordingly, of course."
He smiles a little at that. Some extra pocket money while he's at it won't hurt.
"Considering you'll be living here on a twenty-four hour basis, expect me to be more demanding of you," he says and stops abruptly. It takes Jonghyun a bit to look at the door in front of him. Taking the key out of his pocket, he checks the card attached to the keyring. Right.
He unlocks the door and walks into the wide hall, suppressing the awe rising in his throat.
Minho's voice makes his head snap back. "You'll be exclusively responsible for your room's hygiene," he says and Jonghyun smiles to himself at the convenience. At least he won't have to worry about curious cats pawing their way into his stash. Poetic, I know.
"And my uniform?" he asks.
"It's downstairs at the station. I'll give you half an hour to unpack and I'll be waiting for you there," he says, not even stepping in the room, but flashing a smile -fancy that!- before turning and leaving.
Jonghyun lets the door behind him fall shut as he rests his bag down on the carpeted floor. He walks deeper into the room, taking in the double bed on the left, the TV screen opposite of it; the spacious balcony in the middle, the large dining table in the other room; the closed door on the very right.
Not wasting a minute, he decides to check out the bathroom; not to admire how luxurious it is, but to see how easily the toilet tank can be taken off. Zip lock bags and guns are a good combination.
+
It's about seven in the afternoon when Minho reassures him this will be the last room for the day.
He's not really exhausted, just a bit bored of replacing pillow cases and restocking mini-bars. Overall, though, the first day's given him quite a good impression of the building as a total. There are security cameras on all floors and walls, but thankfully leaving a few blind spots for him to possibly use. Most of the rooms are identical, obviously apart from the two suites at the top (he still needs to visit these). The sound-proofing is good. Stains are easily removed from the floor and wallpaper. Just in case.
The elevator's doors slide open with a soft ding and he pushes the tray out, smoothly trolleying it over the marble floor. His eyes pass by numbers and letters on the nearby doors, stopping when he reaches the one he was looking for.
Minho doesn't gossip, he's found out, but the rest of the staff does. This is were the so-called nephew stays. He smooths over his vest and knocks. "Room service!" he calls out.
"It's open," he hears, a little muffled, but tests the golden handle anyway. He's fully inside a few seconds later. The room's exactly the same as his -on the same floor, even- but it definitely smells different. Citrus, he realises. Citrus, or the Sunday mornings he's never had.
He pushes the tray in. The guy's laying on the bed on his stomach, the show on the TV ignored as he reads some book. Jonghyun can't quite see him, just his back, but he walks closer when the boy speaks again.
"Just leave it on the foot of the bed or something," he says, sounding like he doesn't really care, but Jonghyun notices him look over his shoulder at some point.
His eyes fly up for a second or two, in between setting the cutlery down, and the frown that takes over his features is quickly masked. He stares once more, still leaning over the tray. What are the chances?
The boy half-turns onto his side, then, delicate fingers in the heart of the book as his stare goes from his salad to Jonghyun.
Yeah, it's that kid, all right. Jonghyun doesn't break a sweat, though. Just continues. He feels him squint. He doesn't look, but he can see it from the corner of his eye.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" the boy- Kibum eventually asks, voice genuine and quite confused.
Jonghyun lifts his head, offering a somewhat apologetic smile. "I don't think so, sir," he replies and coolly gets back to setting the last stuff in order on the mattress. He registers Kibum insisting with his eyes before he just shrugs, but his body remains a bit tense. "And that would be it," he announces a moment later and the other nods, eyes on the screen this time, and lower lip between his teeth.
He takes hold of the tray again, starting to walk out, when he hears something about the tip being on the little table in the hall. He takes the money, gets out and into the elevator, and rests his back against the mirror as he's being taken lower.
He manages to limit his thoughts to Well, that's definitely an upgrade, and clears his throat.
The world sure is small.
He breathes out.
→ previous. next.
Pairing: Jonghyun/Key
Genre: AU
Rating: PG for this chapter
Summary: Jonghyun's mind can't stop racing and the sun won't stop glaring into his eyes, when he almost runs over some kid with his bike.
A/N: And now for some action. Things are shaping up, slowly but surely. I'd love to hear from you, know if I'm doing everything fine ♥
Jonghyun's mind can't stop racing and the sun won't stop glaring into his eyes, when he almost runs over some kid with his bike. Close call, he thinks after a last-moment swerve which is just as smooth as it is jerky.
Does the guy have a death wish, anyway?
He gets to the hotel just two blocks and three internal swears later. Begrudgingly, he handles his keys over to the valet waiting outside, making sure to fix him with a warning stare. He stands there to watch for a second, as his bike is being driven away and underground.
Baggage in hand, his eyes soon fall on the grand entrance of the building, double doors and all, and the traffic already amazes him. It's still pretty early in the morning, but people keep rushing in and out, thick aromas all over the place and professionalism intensely present in everybody's aura. High season already.
He walks in, having the doors opened for him and being greeted by a young man in a uniform. He bows his head slightly as he walks past the door man, and heads over to the reception, old sport shoes scraping against polished marble. As soon as he rests his hands on the smooth surface of the front desk, he's welcomed by a smiling girl.
"Good morning, sir!" she says excitedly, and Jonghyun can't help but admit to himself that a position like this must be demanding. They all have to be so sunshiney. "How may I help you?"
"I'm Mr. Park's nephew," he informs while setting his baggage down, and lets himself be amused by the changes in her expression. From cheerfulness to surprise to seriousness, she finally comes around and looks down briefly, soft, blond curls brushing past her shoulders. Jonghyun is asked to confirm that it's the same man they're talking about, and the girl eventually nods.
"Let me get the front office manager for you?" she suggests with a probably uncertain smile, and leaves at Jonghyun's yes. He sees her talk with a boy that may as well be younger than her in the other side of the reception, thumbs pointing towards Jonghyun's direction.
Seconds later, he's being approached by the same male, his hair bouncing with every step and smile radiating. Seriously, did they go looking for staff in kindergartens?
"Good morning," Jonghyun's greeted for the upteenth time today, and the boy immediately starts typing away on the computer underneath the desk. The golden tag pinned on his chest reads Taemin, and his characteristics are almost extremely soft. "Song Yongjin, right?" he asks.
"Exactly," Jonghyun nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet. At least his fake name sounds pretty.
The typing goes on. "First day at work, as well, yes?" he looks up for a bit, fingers moving on their own, and Jonghyun is frankly surprised by his attempt at small talk. Of course he's the front office manager for a reason.
"Oh, yeah. Already pumped," he replies but doesn't elaborate, just waits for Taemin to either get on with the conversation or just get the job done silently. His companion isn't exactly unpleasant, to be honest, but it's a bit too early for chit chat, for Jonghyun's standards.
"All right," he exclaims and turns around, facing the large, wooden case behind him. His hand reaches for something on the very left and he turns back to Jonghyun immediately. He sets the newly acquired item in front of the older boy. "Here's your room key. Now, if you could sit over there for a bit, I could call the executive housekeeper for you, to show you the ropes and guide you to your room," he offers, finger pointing towards what seems to be the waiting area. Jonghyun nods.
"Thank you," he says before picking the key off the desk and bending for his baggage, not missing the other's have a nice stay.
Barely five minutes of brushing his fingers against velvet later, Jonghyun notices someone. It's not like nobody else is there -quite the opposite, what with all the people buzzing around him-, but this is different. Because the dude is tall, tall like he could tower over Jonghyun effortlessly, and he's coming for him. He's dressed plainly but strictly, possibly like most of the staff, but he walks with confidence and he means business. Jonghyun doesn't know whether to mock him or respect him.
"Song Yongjin?" he asks the moment he stops in front of Jonghyun, and the latter stands up.
"So they say," he replies cockily, but doesn't receive any decent reaction. At least none he can actually see.
The guy extends his hand, offering his palm. "Choi Minho, executive housekeeper. Welcome aboard."
Jonghyun takes the hand offered, fingers tightening mildly, but grasped intensely by the other's. He can already tell; this one's a good one, quiet but absolute. He's bound to receive some scolding from him, even though he doubts he's older than he is.
Minho withdraws his hand a second later, spine all too straight. "Shall we?" he suggests, even though it's not really a suggestion, and Jonghyun kind of hurries to walk behind him. He should have thought taller guys have longer strides.
Stepping past men in suits and a few women, he's led towards one of the three double-doored elevators. The boy pushes the button for the one of the very right, equally well-polished as the other two. The discreet engraving on the silver frame enveloping the button reads Staff Only and when the lift arrives, the cubicle's empty.
"You only use this one," Minho tells him in a plain tone while stepping in, and Jonghyun nods. "The housekeeping station is on minus one. So is my office. You won't be spending much time there, though."
"I see," he replies, one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other one still carrying his bag. His eyes follow as Minho's fingers fly over the panel opposite them, the moment the doors close. He presses the button labelled as eighteen and withdraws, hands crossed over his crotch.
They fall in silence for the following minute, the quiet interrupted only by the purring of the elevator. Jonghyun absently looks at himself in the hazy reflection of the sliding doors. It'll take him a good while, getting used to his permanently dyed hair. Sure, he accepted spraying it raven for business' sake, but that wouldn't be convenient in this case. Now all blond strands have been replaced with brown. Eh, tolerable, I guess.
They reach the eighteenth floor seconds later, Minho stepping out first. Jonghyun is caught between whistling and snorting. He bets just the wallpaper surrounding them costs more than an average-quality rifle.
"I've been told you've worked as a housekeeper before?" Minho asks the moment they start walking.
Sure. "Yeah, for a summer or two," he lies, acknowledging the other's studying look on him. "You know, back in my hometown and stuff," he smiles a little.
He nods, looking straight ahead. "So this should be familiar - front office informs us of any customers leaving, I assign you rooms, you clean and restock. No hasty work. All dirty linen," he pauses as they walk over to the other corner of the floor, palm touching the metal chute on the wall, "is to be dumped here. Past this stage, it stops being our responsibility."
Jonghyun nods. "Got that."
They resume walking. "Any special request -from extra washcloths to dinner- is delivered by anybody available." He looks at him a little pointedly, "Tips are given accordingly, of course."
He smiles a little at that. Some extra pocket money while he's at it won't hurt.
"Considering you'll be living here on a twenty-four hour basis, expect me to be more demanding of you," he says and stops abruptly. It takes Jonghyun a bit to look at the door in front of him. Taking the key out of his pocket, he checks the card attached to the keyring. Right.
He unlocks the door and walks into the wide hall, suppressing the awe rising in his throat.
Minho's voice makes his head snap back. "You'll be exclusively responsible for your room's hygiene," he says and Jonghyun smiles to himself at the convenience. At least he won't have to worry about curious cats pawing their way into his stash. Poetic, I know.
"And my uniform?" he asks.
"It's downstairs at the station. I'll give you half an hour to unpack and I'll be waiting for you there," he says, not even stepping in the room, but flashing a smile -fancy that!- before turning and leaving.
Jonghyun lets the door behind him fall shut as he rests his bag down on the carpeted floor. He walks deeper into the room, taking in the double bed on the left, the TV screen opposite of it; the spacious balcony in the middle, the large dining table in the other room; the closed door on the very right.
Not wasting a minute, he decides to check out the bathroom; not to admire how luxurious it is, but to see how easily the toilet tank can be taken off. Zip lock bags and guns are a good combination.
+
It's about seven in the afternoon when Minho reassures him this will be the last room for the day.
He's not really exhausted, just a bit bored of replacing pillow cases and restocking mini-bars. Overall, though, the first day's given him quite a good impression of the building as a total. There are security cameras on all floors and walls, but thankfully leaving a few blind spots for him to possibly use. Most of the rooms are identical, obviously apart from the two suites at the top (he still needs to visit these). The sound-proofing is good. Stains are easily removed from the floor and wallpaper. Just in case.
The elevator's doors slide open with a soft ding and he pushes the tray out, smoothly trolleying it over the marble floor. His eyes pass by numbers and letters on the nearby doors, stopping when he reaches the one he was looking for.
Minho doesn't gossip, he's found out, but the rest of the staff does. This is were the so-called nephew stays. He smooths over his vest and knocks. "Room service!" he calls out.
"It's open," he hears, a little muffled, but tests the golden handle anyway. He's fully inside a few seconds later. The room's exactly the same as his -on the same floor, even- but it definitely smells different. Citrus, he realises. Citrus, or the Sunday mornings he's never had.
He pushes the tray in. The guy's laying on the bed on his stomach, the show on the TV ignored as he reads some book. Jonghyun can't quite see him, just his back, but he walks closer when the boy speaks again.
"Just leave it on the foot of the bed or something," he says, sounding like he doesn't really care, but Jonghyun notices him look over his shoulder at some point.
His eyes fly up for a second or two, in between setting the cutlery down, and the frown that takes over his features is quickly masked. He stares once more, still leaning over the tray. What are the chances?
The boy half-turns onto his side, then, delicate fingers in the heart of the book as his stare goes from his salad to Jonghyun.
Yeah, it's that kid, all right. Jonghyun doesn't break a sweat, though. Just continues. He feels him squint. He doesn't look, but he can see it from the corner of his eye.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" the boy- Kibum eventually asks, voice genuine and quite confused.
Jonghyun lifts his head, offering a somewhat apologetic smile. "I don't think so, sir," he replies and coolly gets back to setting the last stuff in order on the mattress. He registers Kibum insisting with his eyes before he just shrugs, but his body remains a bit tense. "And that would be it," he announces a moment later and the other nods, eyes on the screen this time, and lower lip between his teeth.
He takes hold of the tray again, starting to walk out, when he hears something about the tip being on the little table in the hall. He takes the money, gets out and into the elevator, and rests his back against the mirror as he's being taken lower.
He manages to limit his thoughts to Well, that's definitely an upgrade, and clears his throat.
The world sure is small.
He breathes out.
→ previous. next.