[ exo ] nebulous
title: nebulous
pairing: jongdae/kyungsoo (chensoo)
rating: pg-15
summary: Going into his job interview with Mr. Kim Jongdae, the CEO, Kyungsoo gets something he's really not expecting at all.
length: ~4.4k
warnings: jongdae being an idiot, exo boys being dumbs, bad pickup lines, hints of sex, top!soo
a/n: guess what i don't feel like beta-ing this and its been a wip too long so here. appia said nebulous means something relating to unstructuredness so that's why it's the title yeah ok thank u for readin in advance
Kyungsoo likes to be organized.
His clothes, for one, are all packed away and folded into separate drawers of his dresser and hung up in perfect order in his closet, his bed sheets tucked into tight hospital corners that hotel employees would be jealous of. His kitchen is the same; silverware, mugs, and dishes stacked up neatly in specific places and never out of their spots unless they’re in use.
Sometimes, when he’s making sure the corners of his DVD’s and albums line up right, Kyungsoo thinks that maybe what he does borders on some sort of OCD. But it’s not like he has to keep everything clean and tidy -- he just likes them that way, finds it easier and more efficient.
So it’s no surprise that his resume is divided into easy to follow categories, every achievement and every volunteer opportunity and every job and every aspiration and every class he’s ever had sorted into it’s own little section (objective, education, certificates, interests, references, the list is endless). His cover letter is stapled carefully to the front and the indentation and alignment and placement of every word is perfect when he hands it over to his dream company, when he applies for his dream job after working so long to gain the right credentials.
The call from Kim and Co. is long awaited (he’s spent three weeks without letting his phone out of hearing distance in case it may ring, keeping it practically in his palm 24 hours a day) but it was definitely worth the delay, as Kyungsoo struggles to keep his excitement from leaking into his voice as he agrees to an interview the next Monday.
And it’s where he finds himself another four days later, positioned in front of the mirror of his bathroom, tightening and untightening his tie over and over again, unsatisfied with the way it looks layered over his suit no matter how many times he adjusts it. Finally he simply gives up, scowling as he pushes the knot up to the underside of his throat and twists it to fit perfectly in the middle.
He’s rehearsed nearly every question (in front of this same mirror) that he thinks may get thrown at him, from what he thinks about other companies to what his personal opinions on team spirit and teamwork are. There isn’t anything that he doesn’t have a loaded answer for, nothing that he thinks could possibly come up that he hasn’t thought of yet. Reciting the questions and answers over and over in his mind he makes his way through the staircase, sticky palm sliding down the banister.
Kyungsoo’s briefcase waits for him downstairs, directly beside his shoes and just off to the right of the door for easy access as he steps into his shoes and ties them up nice and uniform, taking the handle after and hoisting it up into his side as he straightens yet again. One last look in the reflection on the glass of the door to adjust his already perfectly styled hair and a deep, slightly shaky exhale later, he’s walking through the threshold and out into the fresh air, locking the door behind him.
A bright yellow taxi to contrast the dark overcast backdrop of the sky waits for his arrival right outside his house and he wears a bright, optimistic smile as he clambers into the backseat, thanking the driver profusely for his patience. His words are brushed off and he recites the address he’d memorized days before without even thinking, sitting back into the starchy polyester seat as his drive begins.
Nerves pound their way through Kyungsoo’s system and he concentrates on keeping his pulse down and not letting himself sweat (the foundation he’d applied to hide his imperfections would run, and that wouldn’t exactly help his chances of scoring the position), pressing his forehead against the cool surface of the window as his eyes bore holes through it to the outside world.
He has an interview with the company’s CEO, Kim Jongdae, and to say he was anxious would be an understatement. Ever since he’d entered his seventh year of school, Kyungsoo had known he’d wanted to work as a stockbroker and to be asked to come for an interview for the enterprise that had a near monopoly on the market is an honour beyond his wildest dreams.
Buildings pass by in a blur, the honks and screeching of car tires blending together into one large white noise that doesn’t register to anything past background sound. With every passing moment he grows closer to his destination and his heart speeds up a beat or skips one entirely, eyes flickering down to the watch snugly strapped to his wrist to watch the time, watch the second tick by into a new minute.
By the time the vehicle pulls to a stop and he’s handing over tender, it’s 3:05, the boy a full twenty five minutes early as he stands outside the glass swivelling doors and takes yet another deep breath, willing his nerves to please, please calm down already.
Taking a last glance at the sky, Kyungsoo notes that the clouds are a dark gray and he guesses that they will probably open up soon to spill rain, praying to whatever lies above the clouds (if anything) that it’s not an omen on how his interview is about to run.
Stepping through the door inside, he’s greeted with a lukewarm atmosphere and a vaguely bustling lobby, women strapped up to the nines in pencil skirts and printed jackets and men dashly dressed in primly kept tuxes as they pass by with papers clutched close, walking with an obvious purpose.
Kyungsoo’s gaze flickers to the clock on the wall and not long has passed, a mere four minutes, but he figures it’s better to be too early than to be too late as he approaches the front desk, standing behind a tall and quite intimidating man who’s asking where his office has been moved (not that he’s eavesdropping, or anything).
When the blond turns, he doesn’t seem to spot Kyungsoo’s small frame and bumps right into it in his clear hurry to go to wherever the receptionist has indicated him, sending the boy nearly toppling right over with how unprepared he’d been for the collision. A firm grip by a pair of extremely large hands on his shoulders keeps him from falling right over onto his ass, wide eyes peering up through his lashes up at sharp features.
His expression was set into a firm line of annoyance but when round pupils settle into the dips of his gaze they seem to soften beneath Kyungsoo’s fearful stare, thick brows smoothing from their previous furrow and lips untwisting from a scowl.
“Are you new here?” The deep baritone of the voice is shocking, but not entirely -- considering the abruptly dignified* appearance of the man, he’d been sort of expecting something along those lines.
“Yes, sort of, I mean -- I have an interview with Mr. Kim,” he says with an almost imperceptible flush of embarrassment, pointing loosely to the front desk where the receptionist now seems to be taking a call, gaze flickering down to the watch exposed by the stretch of his arm out to see that another five minutes have passed, leaving him with sixteen left to get to his 3:30 sharp appointment. He hopes to god that whoever this is doesn’t hold him up too much longer, because showing up late on a first impression is most definitely not part of his plan to Score The Job.
“Ah,” the man nods, sloped eyebrows raising slightly as his lips purse into the softest of understanding pouts before the corners pull up and into a gummy grin, gigantic palm coming to clap upon Kyungsoo’s narrow shoulders. The atmosphere of his whole face changes when he smiles, the smaller thinks, the previously intimidating stature he’d held morphing into something much more approachable(and a little comical). “Don’t want to be late then, mmh?”
A bob of his head later and the man is off to whatever floor his office had been relocated to, Kyungsoo’s feet taking the miniscule steps forward to the desk to properly fold just the first knuckles of his fingers over the cornered edge of it, leaning forward slightly to try and get the attention of the blond behind the desk with a soft clearing of his throat.
(With a quick scan of the employee on the other side of the counter, Kyungsoo wonders if hiring angry looking blond Chinese men is a habit at Kim and Co.)
“Excuse me?” His voice is quietly timid, but it makes the boy turn towards him, a finger lowering to the console where the phone pressed to his ear is connected to after speaking a few quick words to press a button, effectively putting the caller on hold and giving his attention to the boy at hand. “I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Kim?”
“Fourth floor, room 402,” is all the receptionist replies, turning away to look into what appears to be a mirror he’s strapped to the corner of his computer screen and adjust the arrangement of his bangs over his forehead, Kyungsoo stuck in his heels watching for a few moments in what’s mostly amusement.
“Get back to work, beauty queen,” a teasing voice leers from behind Kyungsoo and his head swivels to see yet another blond Chinese boy coming up to bend his torso over the counter and flick the blond right in the centre of his forehead. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he settles back into his heels, the receptionist shooting him a scowl.
“Just for that, you can show the almost-new guy to Jongdae’s office,” he sneers, causing the other to sigh, rolling his eyes until they fall upon Kyungsoo, who’s still standing stock still in the soles of his shoes, unsure exactly if he should make his way over to the elevator or not.
“C’mon, you don’t want to deal with this loser,” the almost childish looking boy gives a last jab to the receptionist and, even more childishly, he sticks out his tongue as he walks away, fingers curled into the bend of Kyungsoo’s elbow to drag him away from the desk and on over to the small queue in front of the elevators.
After a small survey of the people waiting to go up to a new floor, he spots both men and women, and an unsettling number of the people positioned around the three plated sets of doors have tumbling golden curls down to their shoulders or dirty blonde coiffures cut just perfectly around the shapes of their skulls. His heart drops further, fingers absently brushing over his recently recoloured hair, missing it’s red hue. (He’d dyed it back to an easy dark brown to appear reasonable, but now after seeing all of the oddly put together hairstyles here, he wonders if it’d been a mistake.)
“Hey, Yixing!” The boy drags him by the elbow through the crowd of people, bumping into nearly everybody he passes as Kyungsoo apologizes again and again with the most apologetic smile he can manage until they reach the front of the line. There’s yet another blond boy of the same ethnicity turned towards them by the call of the name and a soft whimper too quiet to be heard by anybody by himself slips by Kyungsoo’s lips, heart dropping another few inches.
“Take this guy to Jongdae’s office, will you? I don’t want him yelling at me again.” Another devilish grin and he’s laying Kyungsoo’s elbow into so-called Yixing’s hand and flouncing off, perfectly bleached hair bouncing along with the movement. “You’re a doll, thanks bae!”
Noting the essentially flawless job done to the other’s hair, Kyungsoo sneaks a glance back at his new guide and sees.. the complete opposite. His brown roots are showing, his hair looks slightly damaged by whatever product he’d used, and it’s obvious by just a look that he’s clueless to the fact, not attempting to hide the small imperfections at all. Despite it all, he’s sort of endearing when his eyes trail from where the devilish boy had skipped off to back on over to his seemingly-new protege.
“You’re seeing Jongdae?” Is all the boy asks, as he drags Kyungsoo through the doors as they open and jabs the button with half of a four still printed on it, the rest worn off probably from excessive use. He nods and Yixing chuckles softly, a half smile showing off a deep dimple in his right cheek, “well, I wish you luck. He’s an, uh.. different character.”
Kyungsoo chews at his lip with nerves as more people pile into the small compartment, head ducked down to his feet. He risks a glance at his watch and sees that there’s ten minutes left to get to his interview.
Despite all of his preparation, he’s nervous. He can hear people around him talking about Mr. Kim -- a caramel skinned boy to his right is talking to some kid (who honestly doesn’t look interested at all to a word the boy is saying, and has a head of hair that has nearly every colour Kyungsoo could possibly think of) about how much shit he got in for not turning in his report right on time -- and his mind rolls back to Yixing, to the other two men who’d talked to him.
‘Good luck,’ they’d said, ‘don’t be late’; both had sounded like warnings that now ring through Kyungsoo’s ears, spiking anxiousness. He smooths his suit over his stomach, adjusting it to fit well over himself and pulls the cuffs of his sleeves down properly to his wrists, twisting the cufflinks around until they’re in the perfect spot.
Amidst the beginnings of Kyungsoo starting to give himself a personal pep talk within his own mind, the elevator pulls up to the fourth floor and Yixing is tugging him from around the wrist, pushing at a broad back standing right in front of the open doorway, arms outstretched into two large arches over people trying to duck beneath them to get out.
“Chanyeol-- fuck,” a voice cusses off to his right as he tries to push past the tall man who’s practically blocking the entire threshold, Kyungsoo’s head swivelling to see a miffed looking boy with a snapback fitted backwards over his blond hair (of course it’s blond, he thinks, though he does wonder why no one seems to be commenting on his choice of headwear) practically driving his small fists into the tall brunet’s back at full force.
“Get out of the way, I need to get to my office quickly to get this stupid thing off and fix my hair before Jongdae sees and docks pay or something.”
(Ah. That explains it.)
“Calm down, Baek,” laughs Chanyeol, arms raising up high above his already too-tall frame to let the crowd behind him (who let out a collective sigh of relief) flood through the spaces on either side of his stick figure frame, Yixing standing up from where he’d been crouched down about to crawl through his legs to get out and into the hallway with Kyungsoo in tow.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he watches as Chanyeol gets pushed entirely out of the elevator, stumbling until he regains his balance well enough to stand, only for the elevator doors to close before he can slip back inside. Kyungsoo chuckles a little in amusement and lets Yixing tug him along down the hallway, pushing past people who give him nods of acknowledgement and small smiles that he returns just as breezily. He admires the Chinese boy’s confidence in his workplace, secretly hoping he’ll soon be able to strut the hallways with as much self assurance too.
They’re stopping in front of a door at the end of the hallway, the hold around his wrist loosening as he’s let go with a whispered “good luck” before Yixing is leaving. There’s a gold plate screwed into the dark oak door, “Kim Jongdae” engraved onto it with a smaller “CEO of Kim and Co.” underneath, both all in caps. Kyungsoo swallows a thick lump of intimidation that’d clogged his throat down again, hands suddenly much more clammy than they had been before. This is it.
Behind this door is his future. When he steps past the threshold, it’s every move and every word he articulates that determines what the rest of his life is going to be like. He decides his own fate right here and now, as soon as he opens the door and steps through.
Sweaty fingers wipe against the fabric of his slacks before wrapping around the doorknob, chest rising and falling with a deep breath before Kyungsoo’s lips are curving into the friendliest (although not too friendly) smile he can manage, wrist twisting and pushing forward. He steps in with fingers tightly wound around his briefcase, knuckles nearly white as he catches his first glimpse of who he hopes will soon be his new employer.
The door falls shut behind him and he doesn’t get a reel on his brain quick enough to stop the first thought that runs through his mind.
Oh god he’s attractive.
Jongdae’s cheekbones are high and statured, seemingly sharp enough to cut glass, the point of his nose button cute, and his head is turned just enough for Kyungsoo to see the deadly definition of his jawline. His mouth all but runs dry when the CEO looks up at him and his thin lips curl up into a smile nothing short of being feline. The runner of his interview being attractive hadn’t been part of plan Score The Job, and it sends a ripple through his mind as all his rehearsal fails and he stutters in step.
He has to remind himself that this guy is (hopefully) going to be his boss, and he has to get over the fact that his facial structure must have been crafted by the gods themselves and keep himself in check from letting the human artwork in question know of his attraction to concentrate on this damned interview instead.
“Do Kyungsoo, right?” He asks, and Kyungsoo nods dumbly in response. He takes a seat in the chair he’s gestured to, setting his briefcase neatly beside him and sitting with perfect posture, hands in his lap and back straight.
“If I’m going to be your boss, you have to do what I say, right?” He asks, and it’s a question he hadn’t anticipated but found easy to answer anyways, nodding. Jongdae (should he think of him as Mr. Kim? He’s not sure.) smiles yet again, “then relax.”
Kyungsoo hesitates a mere moment before he lets himself relax, posture falling and back sinking into the cushion of the chair he’s on. Jongdae doesn’t look entirely pleased so he lets his ankles cross, fingers folding over his stomach. The smile he receives back in again blinding.
“So,” he says, leaning over his desk and lacing his fingers together as his elbows settle into the mahogany, scrutinizing eyes only on Kyungsoo. He starts the interview like this, asking everything that’s expected.
He asks about Kyungsoo’s experience, his qualifications, his education -- every ready-fire answer spilling from his lips with little hesitation. He makes sure to smile, and though he knows he was told to relax he can’t help but shift his hands closer to his lap and sit up a little straighter, wanting to appear friendly and hospitable and everything he’s found and been told makes a successful interview.
When Jongdae sits back in his own chair, rolling his shoulders to get rid of the kink in his back he must have from sitting hunched over for so long, the smaller thinks maybe this is it. Maybe that’s the silent signal to leave?
He’s wrong, apparently, because Jongdae’s lips press together for a few moments before he speaks again.
“Are you an interior decorator?”
What. Kyungsoo sits for a few moments, brain fried, and his mouth opens and closes a few times before his mushy thoughts sort of spill out through his lips too, broken. “I-- you-- what?”
“Because you lit up this room the moment you walked in.” There’s just the hint of a smile on Jongdae’s lips, a teasing lilt there that doesn’t match the inviting brightness of before. Kyungsoo still has absolutely no idea what to say, sitting stock still in shock and confusion.
“Are you religious?” This is a more reasonable question, maybe -- he’s heard of workplaces that are strictly Christian or Catholic, and even though he doesn’t much approve he’s willing to answer. He opens his mouth to reply, but--
“Because you’re the answer to all my prayers.”
There’s a pink tint to Kyungsoo’s cheeks now, unable to stifle the heat that climbs his throat into his complexion anymore. He thinks that maybe his (almost) boss is hitting on him but he’s not sure if he can even accept the possibility, let alone the fact.
“Do you have a band-aid?” He’s still going. Kyungsoo has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do, sitting there like a deer in headlights. “Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.” He doesn’t know how many of these Jongdae is going to pull out of his ass, but they seem to be getting lamer as he goes on.
“Do you have a sunburn, or are you always this hot?”
“Are you a light switch? Cause everytime I see you, you turn me on.”
“Do you know what this shirt is made of, Kyungsoo? Do you? Boyfriend material.”
“Does your left eye hurt? Because you’ve been looking right all day.”
“Do you live in a corn field? Because I’m stalking you.”
“Are you an orphanage? Because I want to give you kids.”
Okay. That’s it. That was horrible. He has to stop it there before it gets any worse, has to do the world a favor.
“S-So, um-- do I get the job?” He stutters, nerves tripping him over his own words because he’s honestly bewildered beyond belief, all of the confidence he’d had waking up this morning for the interview ebbing away with each pickup line.
“Only if you go out on a date with me,” he says, and now Jongdae is grinning, pretty pink lips pulled back to reveal a set of pretty white teeth and a pretty dazzling smile. “Say yes and you can set up in the office next to mine tomorrow morning.”
This has got to be the most unconventional interview in the world.
Kyungsoo had never, ever ever ever considered this to be even a remote possibility -- while thinking of what Kim Jongdae might look like, his hopefully new boss, he’d always imagined a wrinkly, old, balding man. The elder being hot wasn’t even on his mind when he’d prepared. If the old man had hit on him, he could have left -- but this is a whole different ballpark.
“Sure,” he hears himself saying without thinking, mind screaming no no no but everything else moaning yes yes yes, “I’ll go on a date with you, as long as you pay.”
Jongdae’s still grinning, sliding a stapled packet of papers across his desk that upon a quick glance Kyungsoo can recognize as a (poorly organized) timetable for his work days. (He makes a silent note to fix it for easier access sometime in the next week.)
“Great. We’ll talk it out over lunch tomorrow. See you then.”
---
One date turns into two and then three and then five and ten and twenty and then Kyungsoo loses count. Jongdae is still just as attractive, cheekbones still high and structure all over just really perfect, but the younger finds out that he’s a lot stupider than he’d assumed even after the pickup line fiasco.
It’s how he finds himself organizing Jongdae’s ever-messy desk to a neater and more organized state months later, aligning pencils and straightening books one second, and then being pulled sideways into his boss’s lap the next second with a loud yelp.
“Idiot,” he seethes and swats at his boyfriend’s chest, venom practically slipping through the spaces in his teeth. “I was putting everything in its place for you since you seem to have no care to where anything belongs.”
“I know where things belong,” says Jongdae, tone all cheeky and not serious the slightest bit as he squeezes his hold around Kyungsoo’s waist, “and I know for a hundred and ten percent that your butt belongs in my lap.”
Kyungsoo promptly bops him on the nose, ignoring the affronted scoff he gets as he opens his mouth to reply coldly, only to be cut off.
“God, they’re so gross,” he hears someone comment from the door, and the two both turn their attention to see Minseok and Joonmyun at the door, the former having spoken with a crooked amused smile.
“I always thought office relationships were banned here,” adds Joonmyun, his tenor painfully not joking at all and awfully matter of fact, actually wondering.
Jongdae scoffs again, shifting the boy in his lap around so that he’s placed in a sort of sitting spooning position. “I’m the CEO, I get to bend the rules if I want.” He leans forward and nibbles at Kyungsoo’s earlobe, voice dropping into something a little lower, a little huskier. “Now get out and get back to work -- oh, and close the door behind you, so I can bend Soo here over the desk for a bit.”
Kyungsoo snorts, as do the two at the doorway. “C’mon, Jongdae, I think they all know who tops here. There’s no use in pretending.”
The mortified expression on his boyfriend’s face and the echoing laughter down the hallway has Kyungsoo himself laughing so hard he nearly pisses himself, getting thrown out into his own office again by a wounded Jongdae who says he doesn’t want to see him ‘til dinner that night.
Getting his job and going to his interview might not have gone as picture perfect as he’d always imagined it, but Kyungsoo thinks he wouldn’t want to work as a stockbroker any other way.
pairing: jongdae/kyungsoo (chensoo)
rating: pg-15
summary: Going into his job interview with Mr. Kim Jongdae, the CEO, Kyungsoo gets something he's really not expecting at all.
length: ~4.4k
warnings: jongdae being an idiot, exo boys being dumbs, bad pickup lines, hints of sex, top!soo
a/n: guess what i don't feel like beta-ing this and its been a wip too long so here. appia said nebulous means something relating to unstructuredness so that's why it's the title yeah ok thank u for readin in advance
Kyungsoo likes to be organized.
His clothes, for one, are all packed away and folded into separate drawers of his dresser and hung up in perfect order in his closet, his bed sheets tucked into tight hospital corners that hotel employees would be jealous of. His kitchen is the same; silverware, mugs, and dishes stacked up neatly in specific places and never out of their spots unless they’re in use.
Sometimes, when he’s making sure the corners of his DVD’s and albums line up right, Kyungsoo thinks that maybe what he does borders on some sort of OCD. But it’s not like he has to keep everything clean and tidy -- he just likes them that way, finds it easier and more efficient.
So it’s no surprise that his resume is divided into easy to follow categories, every achievement and every volunteer opportunity and every job and every aspiration and every class he’s ever had sorted into it’s own little section (objective, education, certificates, interests, references, the list is endless). His cover letter is stapled carefully to the front and the indentation and alignment and placement of every word is perfect when he hands it over to his dream company, when he applies for his dream job after working so long to gain the right credentials.
The call from Kim and Co. is long awaited (he’s spent three weeks without letting his phone out of hearing distance in case it may ring, keeping it practically in his palm 24 hours a day) but it was definitely worth the delay, as Kyungsoo struggles to keep his excitement from leaking into his voice as he agrees to an interview the next Monday.
And it’s where he finds himself another four days later, positioned in front of the mirror of his bathroom, tightening and untightening his tie over and over again, unsatisfied with the way it looks layered over his suit no matter how many times he adjusts it. Finally he simply gives up, scowling as he pushes the knot up to the underside of his throat and twists it to fit perfectly in the middle.
He’s rehearsed nearly every question (in front of this same mirror) that he thinks may get thrown at him, from what he thinks about other companies to what his personal opinions on team spirit and teamwork are. There isn’t anything that he doesn’t have a loaded answer for, nothing that he thinks could possibly come up that he hasn’t thought of yet. Reciting the questions and answers over and over in his mind he makes his way through the staircase, sticky palm sliding down the banister.
Kyungsoo’s briefcase waits for him downstairs, directly beside his shoes and just off to the right of the door for easy access as he steps into his shoes and ties them up nice and uniform, taking the handle after and hoisting it up into his side as he straightens yet again. One last look in the reflection on the glass of the door to adjust his already perfectly styled hair and a deep, slightly shaky exhale later, he’s walking through the threshold and out into the fresh air, locking the door behind him.
A bright yellow taxi to contrast the dark overcast backdrop of the sky waits for his arrival right outside his house and he wears a bright, optimistic smile as he clambers into the backseat, thanking the driver profusely for his patience. His words are brushed off and he recites the address he’d memorized days before without even thinking, sitting back into the starchy polyester seat as his drive begins.
Nerves pound their way through Kyungsoo’s system and he concentrates on keeping his pulse down and not letting himself sweat (the foundation he’d applied to hide his imperfections would run, and that wouldn’t exactly help his chances of scoring the position), pressing his forehead against the cool surface of the window as his eyes bore holes through it to the outside world.
He has an interview with the company’s CEO, Kim Jongdae, and to say he was anxious would be an understatement. Ever since he’d entered his seventh year of school, Kyungsoo had known he’d wanted to work as a stockbroker and to be asked to come for an interview for the enterprise that had a near monopoly on the market is an honour beyond his wildest dreams.
Buildings pass by in a blur, the honks and screeching of car tires blending together into one large white noise that doesn’t register to anything past background sound. With every passing moment he grows closer to his destination and his heart speeds up a beat or skips one entirely, eyes flickering down to the watch snugly strapped to his wrist to watch the time, watch the second tick by into a new minute.
By the time the vehicle pulls to a stop and he’s handing over tender, it’s 3:05, the boy a full twenty five minutes early as he stands outside the glass swivelling doors and takes yet another deep breath, willing his nerves to please, please calm down already.
Taking a last glance at the sky, Kyungsoo notes that the clouds are a dark gray and he guesses that they will probably open up soon to spill rain, praying to whatever lies above the clouds (if anything) that it’s not an omen on how his interview is about to run.
Stepping through the door inside, he’s greeted with a lukewarm atmosphere and a vaguely bustling lobby, women strapped up to the nines in pencil skirts and printed jackets and men dashly dressed in primly kept tuxes as they pass by with papers clutched close, walking with an obvious purpose.
Kyungsoo’s gaze flickers to the clock on the wall and not long has passed, a mere four minutes, but he figures it’s better to be too early than to be too late as he approaches the front desk, standing behind a tall and quite intimidating man who’s asking where his office has been moved (not that he’s eavesdropping, or anything).
When the blond turns, he doesn’t seem to spot Kyungsoo’s small frame and bumps right into it in his clear hurry to go to wherever the receptionist has indicated him, sending the boy nearly toppling right over with how unprepared he’d been for the collision. A firm grip by a pair of extremely large hands on his shoulders keeps him from falling right over onto his ass, wide eyes peering up through his lashes up at sharp features.
His expression was set into a firm line of annoyance but when round pupils settle into the dips of his gaze they seem to soften beneath Kyungsoo’s fearful stare, thick brows smoothing from their previous furrow and lips untwisting from a scowl.
“Are you new here?” The deep baritone of the voice is shocking, but not entirely -- considering the abruptly dignified* appearance of the man, he’d been sort of expecting something along those lines.
“Yes, sort of, I mean -- I have an interview with Mr. Kim,” he says with an almost imperceptible flush of embarrassment, pointing loosely to the front desk where the receptionist now seems to be taking a call, gaze flickering down to the watch exposed by the stretch of his arm out to see that another five minutes have passed, leaving him with sixteen left to get to his 3:30 sharp appointment. He hopes to god that whoever this is doesn’t hold him up too much longer, because showing up late on a first impression is most definitely not part of his plan to Score The Job.
“Ah,” the man nods, sloped eyebrows raising slightly as his lips purse into the softest of understanding pouts before the corners pull up and into a gummy grin, gigantic palm coming to clap upon Kyungsoo’s narrow shoulders. The atmosphere of his whole face changes when he smiles, the smaller thinks, the previously intimidating stature he’d held morphing into something much more approachable(and a little comical). “Don’t want to be late then, mmh?”
A bob of his head later and the man is off to whatever floor his office had been relocated to, Kyungsoo’s feet taking the miniscule steps forward to the desk to properly fold just the first knuckles of his fingers over the cornered edge of it, leaning forward slightly to try and get the attention of the blond behind the desk with a soft clearing of his throat.
(With a quick scan of the employee on the other side of the counter, Kyungsoo wonders if hiring angry looking blond Chinese men is a habit at Kim and Co.)
“Excuse me?” His voice is quietly timid, but it makes the boy turn towards him, a finger lowering to the console where the phone pressed to his ear is connected to after speaking a few quick words to press a button, effectively putting the caller on hold and giving his attention to the boy at hand. “I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Kim?”
“Fourth floor, room 402,” is all the receptionist replies, turning away to look into what appears to be a mirror he’s strapped to the corner of his computer screen and adjust the arrangement of his bangs over his forehead, Kyungsoo stuck in his heels watching for a few moments in what’s mostly amusement.
“Get back to work, beauty queen,” a teasing voice leers from behind Kyungsoo and his head swivels to see yet another blond Chinese boy coming up to bend his torso over the counter and flick the blond right in the centre of his forehead. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he settles back into his heels, the receptionist shooting him a scowl.
“Just for that, you can show the almost-new guy to Jongdae’s office,” he sneers, causing the other to sigh, rolling his eyes until they fall upon Kyungsoo, who’s still standing stock still in the soles of his shoes, unsure exactly if he should make his way over to the elevator or not.
“C’mon, you don’t want to deal with this loser,” the almost childish looking boy gives a last jab to the receptionist and, even more childishly, he sticks out his tongue as he walks away, fingers curled into the bend of Kyungsoo’s elbow to drag him away from the desk and on over to the small queue in front of the elevators.
After a small survey of the people waiting to go up to a new floor, he spots both men and women, and an unsettling number of the people positioned around the three plated sets of doors have tumbling golden curls down to their shoulders or dirty blonde coiffures cut just perfectly around the shapes of their skulls. His heart drops further, fingers absently brushing over his recently recoloured hair, missing it’s red hue. (He’d dyed it back to an easy dark brown to appear reasonable, but now after seeing all of the oddly put together hairstyles here, he wonders if it’d been a mistake.)
“Hey, Yixing!” The boy drags him by the elbow through the crowd of people, bumping into nearly everybody he passes as Kyungsoo apologizes again and again with the most apologetic smile he can manage until they reach the front of the line. There’s yet another blond boy of the same ethnicity turned towards them by the call of the name and a soft whimper too quiet to be heard by anybody by himself slips by Kyungsoo’s lips, heart dropping another few inches.
“Take this guy to Jongdae’s office, will you? I don’t want him yelling at me again.” Another devilish grin and he’s laying Kyungsoo’s elbow into so-called Yixing’s hand and flouncing off, perfectly bleached hair bouncing along with the movement. “You’re a doll, thanks bae!”
Noting the essentially flawless job done to the other’s hair, Kyungsoo sneaks a glance back at his new guide and sees.. the complete opposite. His brown roots are showing, his hair looks slightly damaged by whatever product he’d used, and it’s obvious by just a look that he’s clueless to the fact, not attempting to hide the small imperfections at all. Despite it all, he’s sort of endearing when his eyes trail from where the devilish boy had skipped off to back on over to his seemingly-new protege.
“You’re seeing Jongdae?” Is all the boy asks, as he drags Kyungsoo through the doors as they open and jabs the button with half of a four still printed on it, the rest worn off probably from excessive use. He nods and Yixing chuckles softly, a half smile showing off a deep dimple in his right cheek, “well, I wish you luck. He’s an, uh.. different character.”
Kyungsoo chews at his lip with nerves as more people pile into the small compartment, head ducked down to his feet. He risks a glance at his watch and sees that there’s ten minutes left to get to his interview.
Despite all of his preparation, he’s nervous. He can hear people around him talking about Mr. Kim -- a caramel skinned boy to his right is talking to some kid (who honestly doesn’t look interested at all to a word the boy is saying, and has a head of hair that has nearly every colour Kyungsoo could possibly think of) about how much shit he got in for not turning in his report right on time -- and his mind rolls back to Yixing, to the other two men who’d talked to him.
‘Good luck,’ they’d said, ‘don’t be late’; both had sounded like warnings that now ring through Kyungsoo’s ears, spiking anxiousness. He smooths his suit over his stomach, adjusting it to fit well over himself and pulls the cuffs of his sleeves down properly to his wrists, twisting the cufflinks around until they’re in the perfect spot.
Amidst the beginnings of Kyungsoo starting to give himself a personal pep talk within his own mind, the elevator pulls up to the fourth floor and Yixing is tugging him from around the wrist, pushing at a broad back standing right in front of the open doorway, arms outstretched into two large arches over people trying to duck beneath them to get out.
“Chanyeol-- fuck,” a voice cusses off to his right as he tries to push past the tall man who’s practically blocking the entire threshold, Kyungsoo’s head swivelling to see a miffed looking boy with a snapback fitted backwards over his blond hair (of course it’s blond, he thinks, though he does wonder why no one seems to be commenting on his choice of headwear) practically driving his small fists into the tall brunet’s back at full force.
“Get out of the way, I need to get to my office quickly to get this stupid thing off and fix my hair before Jongdae sees and docks pay or something.”
(Ah. That explains it.)
“Calm down, Baek,” laughs Chanyeol, arms raising up high above his already too-tall frame to let the crowd behind him (who let out a collective sigh of relief) flood through the spaces on either side of his stick figure frame, Yixing standing up from where he’d been crouched down about to crawl through his legs to get out and into the hallway with Kyungsoo in tow.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he watches as Chanyeol gets pushed entirely out of the elevator, stumbling until he regains his balance well enough to stand, only for the elevator doors to close before he can slip back inside. Kyungsoo chuckles a little in amusement and lets Yixing tug him along down the hallway, pushing past people who give him nods of acknowledgement and small smiles that he returns just as breezily. He admires the Chinese boy’s confidence in his workplace, secretly hoping he’ll soon be able to strut the hallways with as much self assurance too.
They’re stopping in front of a door at the end of the hallway, the hold around his wrist loosening as he’s let go with a whispered “good luck” before Yixing is leaving. There’s a gold plate screwed into the dark oak door, “Kim Jongdae” engraved onto it with a smaller “CEO of Kim and Co.” underneath, both all in caps. Kyungsoo swallows a thick lump of intimidation that’d clogged his throat down again, hands suddenly much more clammy than they had been before. This is it.
Behind this door is his future. When he steps past the threshold, it’s every move and every word he articulates that determines what the rest of his life is going to be like. He decides his own fate right here and now, as soon as he opens the door and steps through.
Sweaty fingers wipe against the fabric of his slacks before wrapping around the doorknob, chest rising and falling with a deep breath before Kyungsoo’s lips are curving into the friendliest (although not too friendly) smile he can manage, wrist twisting and pushing forward. He steps in with fingers tightly wound around his briefcase, knuckles nearly white as he catches his first glimpse of who he hopes will soon be his new employer.
The door falls shut behind him and he doesn’t get a reel on his brain quick enough to stop the first thought that runs through his mind.
Oh god he’s attractive.
Jongdae’s cheekbones are high and statured, seemingly sharp enough to cut glass, the point of his nose button cute, and his head is turned just enough for Kyungsoo to see the deadly definition of his jawline. His mouth all but runs dry when the CEO looks up at him and his thin lips curl up into a smile nothing short of being feline. The runner of his interview being attractive hadn’t been part of plan Score The Job, and it sends a ripple through his mind as all his rehearsal fails and he stutters in step.
He has to remind himself that this guy is (hopefully) going to be his boss, and he has to get over the fact that his facial structure must have been crafted by the gods themselves and keep himself in check from letting the human artwork in question know of his attraction to concentrate on this damned interview instead.
“Do Kyungsoo, right?” He asks, and Kyungsoo nods dumbly in response. He takes a seat in the chair he’s gestured to, setting his briefcase neatly beside him and sitting with perfect posture, hands in his lap and back straight.
“If I’m going to be your boss, you have to do what I say, right?” He asks, and it’s a question he hadn’t anticipated but found easy to answer anyways, nodding. Jongdae (should he think of him as Mr. Kim? He’s not sure.) smiles yet again, “then relax.”
Kyungsoo hesitates a mere moment before he lets himself relax, posture falling and back sinking into the cushion of the chair he’s on. Jongdae doesn’t look entirely pleased so he lets his ankles cross, fingers folding over his stomach. The smile he receives back in again blinding.
“So,” he says, leaning over his desk and lacing his fingers together as his elbows settle into the mahogany, scrutinizing eyes only on Kyungsoo. He starts the interview like this, asking everything that’s expected.
He asks about Kyungsoo’s experience, his qualifications, his education -- every ready-fire answer spilling from his lips with little hesitation. He makes sure to smile, and though he knows he was told to relax he can’t help but shift his hands closer to his lap and sit up a little straighter, wanting to appear friendly and hospitable and everything he’s found and been told makes a successful interview.
When Jongdae sits back in his own chair, rolling his shoulders to get rid of the kink in his back he must have from sitting hunched over for so long, the smaller thinks maybe this is it. Maybe that’s the silent signal to leave?
He’s wrong, apparently, because Jongdae’s lips press together for a few moments before he speaks again.
“Are you an interior decorator?”
What. Kyungsoo sits for a few moments, brain fried, and his mouth opens and closes a few times before his mushy thoughts sort of spill out through his lips too, broken. “I-- you-- what?”
“Because you lit up this room the moment you walked in.” There’s just the hint of a smile on Jongdae’s lips, a teasing lilt there that doesn’t match the inviting brightness of before. Kyungsoo still has absolutely no idea what to say, sitting stock still in shock and confusion.
“Are you religious?” This is a more reasonable question, maybe -- he’s heard of workplaces that are strictly Christian or Catholic, and even though he doesn’t much approve he’s willing to answer. He opens his mouth to reply, but--
“Because you’re the answer to all my prayers.”
There’s a pink tint to Kyungsoo’s cheeks now, unable to stifle the heat that climbs his throat into his complexion anymore. He thinks that maybe his (almost) boss is hitting on him but he’s not sure if he can even accept the possibility, let alone the fact.
“Do you have a band-aid?” He’s still going. Kyungsoo has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do, sitting there like a deer in headlights. “Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.” He doesn’t know how many of these Jongdae is going to pull out of his ass, but they seem to be getting lamer as he goes on.
“Do you have a sunburn, or are you always this hot?”
“Are you a light switch? Cause everytime I see you, you turn me on.”
“Do you know what this shirt is made of, Kyungsoo? Do you? Boyfriend material.”
“Does your left eye hurt? Because you’ve been looking right all day.”
“Do you live in a corn field? Because I’m stalking you.”
“Are you an orphanage? Because I want to give you kids.”
Okay. That’s it. That was horrible. He has to stop it there before it gets any worse, has to do the world a favor.
“S-So, um-- do I get the job?” He stutters, nerves tripping him over his own words because he’s honestly bewildered beyond belief, all of the confidence he’d had waking up this morning for the interview ebbing away with each pickup line.
“Only if you go out on a date with me,” he says, and now Jongdae is grinning, pretty pink lips pulled back to reveal a set of pretty white teeth and a pretty dazzling smile. “Say yes and you can set up in the office next to mine tomorrow morning.”
This has got to be the most unconventional interview in the world.
Kyungsoo had never, ever ever ever considered this to be even a remote possibility -- while thinking of what Kim Jongdae might look like, his hopefully new boss, he’d always imagined a wrinkly, old, balding man. The elder being hot wasn’t even on his mind when he’d prepared. If the old man had hit on him, he could have left -- but this is a whole different ballpark.
“Sure,” he hears himself saying without thinking, mind screaming no no no but everything else moaning yes yes yes, “I’ll go on a date with you, as long as you pay.”
Jongdae’s still grinning, sliding a stapled packet of papers across his desk that upon a quick glance Kyungsoo can recognize as a (poorly organized) timetable for his work days. (He makes a silent note to fix it for easier access sometime in the next week.)
“Great. We’ll talk it out over lunch tomorrow. See you then.”
---
One date turns into two and then three and then five and ten and twenty and then Kyungsoo loses count. Jongdae is still just as attractive, cheekbones still high and structure all over just really perfect, but the younger finds out that he’s a lot stupider than he’d assumed even after the pickup line fiasco.
It’s how he finds himself organizing Jongdae’s ever-messy desk to a neater and more organized state months later, aligning pencils and straightening books one second, and then being pulled sideways into his boss’s lap the next second with a loud yelp.
“Idiot,” he seethes and swats at his boyfriend’s chest, venom practically slipping through the spaces in his teeth. “I was putting everything in its place for you since you seem to have no care to where anything belongs.”
“I know where things belong,” says Jongdae, tone all cheeky and not serious the slightest bit as he squeezes his hold around Kyungsoo’s waist, “and I know for a hundred and ten percent that your butt belongs in my lap.”
Kyungsoo promptly bops him on the nose, ignoring the affronted scoff he gets as he opens his mouth to reply coldly, only to be cut off.
“God, they’re so gross,” he hears someone comment from the door, and the two both turn their attention to see Minseok and Joonmyun at the door, the former having spoken with a crooked amused smile.
“I always thought office relationships were banned here,” adds Joonmyun, his tenor painfully not joking at all and awfully matter of fact, actually wondering.
Jongdae scoffs again, shifting the boy in his lap around so that he’s placed in a sort of sitting spooning position. “I’m the CEO, I get to bend the rules if I want.” He leans forward and nibbles at Kyungsoo’s earlobe, voice dropping into something a little lower, a little huskier. “Now get out and get back to work -- oh, and close the door behind you, so I can bend Soo here over the desk for a bit.”
Kyungsoo snorts, as do the two at the doorway. “C’mon, Jongdae, I think they all know who tops here. There’s no use in pretending.”
The mortified expression on his boyfriend’s face and the echoing laughter down the hallway has Kyungsoo himself laughing so hard he nearly pisses himself, getting thrown out into his own office again by a wounded Jongdae who says he doesn’t want to see him ‘til dinner that night.
Getting his job and going to his interview might not have gone as picture perfect as he’d always imagined it, but Kyungsoo thinks he wouldn’t want to work as a stockbroker any other way.