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Donghyuck likes to think his job is pretty sweet.

When he’d graduated from Brown two years ago with tens of thousands dollars worth of student loans to repay and a nigh-useless degree in Communications, he wasn’t sure what he’d end up doing. OnlyFans, maybe, or one of those people who call themselves sales representatives but are actually just silly little pawns in a multilevel marketing scheme selling candles or tupperware to thirty-year-old white women. Donghyuck could pull off OnlyFans, but girlboss would’ve been pushing it (he can picture it now, the dms in his high school classmates’ inboxes — all, hey girl, this is so random, but have you ever tried essential oils before, ever since I became my own boss I’ve made 10k right from my own living room, I quit my full-time job and you can too!).

He didn’t even know what the hell a consultant was when Mark emailed him a link to the application with the subject line: GET A JOB!, but he’d applied anyway, sweet-talked his way through the three-round interview process, and now here he was. Earning a living by sitting on his ass all day and giving what should be obvious advice to very old, very stupid execs from other companies. No, you shouldn’t send that email until the project timeline has actually been approved. No, you can’t just increase the budget because you’ve suddenly decided you want to revamp our entire communication strategy. Yes, I’m sure.

The only part of Donghyuck’s job that is not-so-sweet is five-foot-four, with a tongue so sharp it rivals even Donghyuck’s, and is currently standing right in front of his desk.

“Donghyuck,” Renjun-From-Human-Resources says stiffly. He’s wearing two-inch insoles today. Donghyuck can tell, because usually he has to stand on his tiptoes to peer into Donghyuck’s cubicle, but right now he’s standing sure-footed on the ground like a self-righteous little chihuahua. Girlboss, gatekeep, gaslight. How Renjun manages to embody all three traits of the Millennial Dark Triad, Donghyuck will never know. “How many times do I have to tell you that you cannot wear jeans with that many holes in them to the office, even on Casual Friday?”

“Renjun,” Donghyuck snarks back. “How many times do I have to tell you that these jeans make my ass look great and I’m never going to stop wearing them to work?”

Renjun puts both his hands to his head, like he’s willing a headache away. “Please change,” he says. “Or I’m going to have to write you up.” He turns on his heel and leaves without bothering to stick around to hear Donghyuck’s reply.

“Fine,” Donghyuck yells at Renjun’s retreating back. “But next time, I’m going to wear something even more revealing.” Donghyuck, truthfully, is not really sure why Renjun even bothers at this point. His manager loves him, so no matter how many times Renjun submits a petty complaint about him, Donghyuck knows Yuta will never actually fire him over it.

Their… rivalry? — if you can even call it that — began at the Office Christmas party. Renjun always tries to get them to call it the Office Non-Denominational Holiday Party, ONDHP for short, per HR cultural sensitivity guidelines. It’s kind of a mouthful, so it never really stuck. Whatever you want to call it, it’s never really a party so much as it is a collection of awkward coworkers standing around and quietly drinking out of red solo cups in Conference Room A. So no one should be able to blame Donghyuck, really, for wanting to spice it up a bit. Technically, Donghyuck wasn’t even the one who spiked the punch. That honor goes to Jungwoo from the Accounting department. All Donghyuck did was put up a teeny tiny bit of mistletoe, just for fun, and maybe he also spilled a teeny tiny cup of punch on Renjun’s Non-Denominational Holiday Sweater.

“I was going to enter this in the Non-Denominational Holiday Sweater contest,” Renjun had muttered sulkily.

It was only a little cute.

“You can still do that,” Donghyuck had said, already drunk off his ass. “You’re the only person lame enough to enter it, so you’ll win first place anyways.” Donghyuck blacked out after that. Mark had to fill him in on what had happened the next day, which was Not Fun for anyone.

Renjun marked him as Below Expectations in the Professionalism category during his quarterly performance review a week later (minimally effective performer, needs improvement, he had written in the margins, and Donghyuck had been too angry about it to even make a that’s-what-she-said joke, his one true pleasure in life). It all went downhill from there.

“God," Donghyuck says, mostly to himself. "How can anyone even stand being around him?”

“You know,” Chenle-the-intern whispers conspiratorially from the cubicle next to his, seemingly out of nowhere, as if called forth by the sound of shit talking. “I have it on pretty good authority that Renjun actually has a boyfriend.” He pauses, for dramatic effect. “And it’s someone we work with.”

“Renjun Huang?” Donghyuck asks, in disbelief. Chenle is something of an office gossip, and his information is generally accurate most of the time... but this is something that Donghyuck simply can't wrap his head around. “Stick-up-his-ass Renjun, from HR? Renjun who once wrote me up for telling Mark his ass looked nice in his work slacks? Who starts frothing at the mouth in anger if we submit our timecards even just one minute late? That Renjun is dating a coworker?” How the hell does Renjun have a boyfriend and he doesn’t? How the hell is Renjun dating someone who’s not h—

“That’s the one,” Chenle says, his head peeking out from over the wall like a little meerkat. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you confirm with him yourself?”

Donghyuck shudders to think of what might happen if he did such a thing. “And give him another reason to try and fire me? No thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Chenle shrugs. “Just wanted to spread the knowledge, you know? I’m a nice person, like that.”

“Wait,” Donghyuck says, right as Chenle’s head starts to disappear below the divider again. “You don’t know who he’s dating, right?”

“What? No,” Chenle looks at him like he’s insane, and maybe Donghyuck is, a little bit, but not over this. “I don’t care who he’s boning, I just think it’s hilarious that he is boning someone in the office.”

It’s not like dating a coworker is against any specific HR policy, or anything, but it’s not necessarily encouraged either, and it is pretty hypocritical of Renjun to be doing that when he threatened to send Donghyuck to a seminar on sexual harassment training for just looking at Shotaro’s ass that one time (and Donghyuck hadn’t even wanted to look, really, it was just there, and it was harder not to notice an absolute dump truck of an ass like that than to try and ignore it). If what Chenle is saying is true, then it sounds like Renjun’s been doing a lot more than just looking at his coworker’s asses, too, and that doesn’t seem very fair at all!

The more he thinks about it, the less it makes sense. It’s hard to understand what anyone would see in Renjun, besides his cloven hooves and forked tongue (get it? because he’s a demon? get it? and not the sexy incubus kind, either?). Though maybe the tongue thing could end up being interesting in bed. There’s probably a porn category that exists for this, and Donghyuck makes a mental note to look it up later. Sure, it’s pretty cute when Renjun gets all mad and sulky and his cheeks puff up, or when Donghyuck does something particularly annoying and he starts shaking his stupid little kitty paw fists at him, but beyond that, Donghyuck’s isn’t sure what the draw is.

Donghyuck makes a decision, then and there.

“Chenle,” he says, very seriously. “I promise I will figure this out for you.”

“Man,” Chenle replies, sounding tired. “I really didn’t ask you to do that.”

“No, I have to. For us. Justice, for all the times Renjun has made our lives difficult.”

“Renjun doesn’t make my life difficult. He pretty much only bothers you. Actually,” Chenle looks contemplative. “You make my life kind of difficult. Whenever you don’t get your work done I’m the one it gets sacked off to, since I’m the only one lower on the corporate ladder than you are.”

“Shut up. I’m due for a promotion this cycle if I can manage to get Renjun to update my performance management document before the first quarter financial results come out.” And to be clear, that is totally something Donghyuck can do. Especially if he gets leverage. He’s like a morally grey, sexier, not-female, gayer, more Asian Nancy Drew. “I, Donghyuck Lee, solemnly swear that I will find out which one of our coworkers Renjun is dating if it is the last thing I do.”

There’s a rustling sound from Jeno’s cubicle to his left, and then a loud thump. Donghyuck peers over at him. “Uhh, hey man, are you good?” he asks. Jeno stands up so quickly Donghyuck thinks he might get whiplash.

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m fine, I just um,” Jeno pauses. “I have to take some files up to the seventh floor. It’s urgent! I better get going!”

“Okay,” Donghyuck says, but Jeno’s already in the wind, tight little work slacks and all. Donghyuck hates to watch him go but he loves to watch him leave. “Have fun with that, I guess?”

Huh. Weird. What a weird, weird dude. Even after sharing a cubicle wall with the guy for two years, Donghyuck knows exactly five things about Jeno Lee: they started in the consulting wing of Neo Technologies at the same time. He is as sexy as he is weird. He wears the tightest work pants known to God but somehow never gets written up by HR. He works out at the company gym at 5:30 AM on the dot every morning and no, it’s not weird that Donghyuck knows that, it’s Yuta’s fault, for always making him get up early for meetings with the offshore team. And lastly: it is absolutely impossible to get him to open up about his personal life. Really. He’s nice — almost too nice, which is why Donghyuck suspects he probably didn’t want to stick around to hear what other choice words he may have had for Renjun — but mysterious, if only because he refuses to engage in anything beyond surface level small talk. In their longest conversation to date, they exchanged no more than ten words. All of them were related to usage of the office photocopier downstairs.

Whatever. Donghyuck is a man on a mission. He knows exactly what he has to do to solve this mystery. For Chenle, of course. No other reason.

Donghyuck knows he has to make a deal with the devil.

Donghyuck barges into Ten’s office without warning, ignoring the fluttering of paper falling to the ground as he slams the door open. It’s less of an office and more of a glorified windowless supply closet, but Ten likes to brag about it. Donghyuck doesn’t care enough to ruin it for him.

“I need to know who Renjun is dating,” he whisper-hisses, because he is pretty sure Jaemin in the next office over is on a Zoom call, and he doesn’t need the entire office knowing about his not-so-secret quest to find out who managed to dislodge the stick in Renjun’s ass and replace it with their dick.

“Hi, Donghyuck, it’s so nice to see you too,” Ten deadpans without turning around, typing furiously on his computer. “Yes, I’ve been doing well, and isn’t the weather just great today, how are you?”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Aren’t we past the water cooler conversation topics by now?”

“It’s called having manners,” Ten says, as if he’s the face of proper office etiquette himself. As if Donghyuck hasn’t literally seen him stealing toilet paper from the bathrooms to take home to his apartment. “What’s with the sudden interest in who Renjun is dating, anyways? Are you finally over your whole thing where you act like a kid pulling his crush's pigtails on the playground during recess because he doesn't know how to get attention otherwise?”

“What?” Donghyuck sputters. It comes out more high-pitched than he would like. “I don’t have a crush on him! And I don’t act like that, either!”

Ten rolls his eyes right back at him. “Of course you don’t,” he replies. Donghyuck resents his tone.

“Are you gonna tell me, or not?” he asks. “Because if you’re not, I can always go and pursue other, more reliable, more forthcoming leads of information.”

“Wrong. If you’re here, it means that I’m your most reliable source of information, probably because Renjun doesn’t hate me and we work in the same department.” Ten says, correctly calling his bluff. Damn it. “It seems to me that I have something you want, and you have something I want. So how about we do a little exchange?”

God. It’s so hard being this hot. Really. Donghyuck’s life is just terrible. “Oh… I’m not… you’re very attractive, but I…”

“Not that, idiot,” Ten scowls, and wow, that wasn’t very HR-friendly of him at all! “I want Yuta’s number.”

Donghyuck blinks, surprised. “Yuta?” he asks, in disbelief, not because Yuta is un-sexy and he’s surprised anyone would want his number, but because Ten doesn’t generally seem like the type of person who struggles to get anyone’s number. For any reason. “Like, my manager, Yuta? Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”

Ten’s eyes narrow. “Why don’t you just ask Renjun who he’s dating then, too?” Which is… a fair point actually, but Donghyuck will never admit it.

“You literally work in Human Resources. You have all our information. You could just check his employee record for his number?”

“That would be unprofessional, Donghyuck.” Ten drums his fingers on his desk threateningly. “I take my job very seriously.” And, again, Donghyuck feels compelled to point out— same guy who steals 3-ply toilet paper from the office bathrooms.

“I— Okay, fine,” Donghyuck says, if only to shut him up. He opens the Contacts app on his phone so Ten can get a look at Yuta’s information. It feels a little weird to be pimping out his manager like this. But well... some sacrifices have to be made. “Don’t tell him it was me who gave you this number specifically, though.”

“Yeah, duh, I wasn’t born yesterday,” Ten says, copying the number down. There’s a joke about his height in there, somewhere, but one HR rep having a grudge against him is about as much as Donghyuck can handle. And actually, between Ten and Renjun, does their HR department exclusively hire tiny, short-tempered Asian twinks? Is that a question they put on the job application? That doesn’t feel legal, but he’d have to reread Section 703(a)(1) of Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (42 U.S. Code § 2000e–2) to be sure. Donghyuck knows the law, he thinks, based on exactly one class he took before dropping his pre-law concentration and forever shattering his dreams of one day posting a picture of his hypothetical Harvard Law degree on Instagram with the caption, “what, like it’s hard?” á-la-Elle-Woods-from-Legally-Blonde.

“So who is he dating?” Donghyuck asks, when it becomes clear Ten’s already forgotten about his side of the deal he is obligated to uphold and is instead thinking about how many i’s to put in his haha hiiiiiiiii opening text to Yuta (five i’s is too little, but six i’s is too many, the eternal dilemma of life).

Ten looks at him shiftily. “So I don’t know exactly who he’s dating,” he says, and before Donghyuck can throttle him: “But I have seen them canoodling in the break room on the seventh floor. Though I only saw the back of his head.”

Renjun and canoodling are two words Donghyuck had never expected to hear together in the same sentence. He lowers his hands from where they had been creeping up to wrap around Ten’s neck, on instinct. “What’d he look like from the back?”

“No ass. Like, negative ass. Just, the flattest ass you could possibly imagine. Concave ass.”

“That’s the only defining characteristic you got?”

“I guess he was blond too,” Ten says after another moment of contemplation. “But mostly it was the ass.”

Donghyuck throws his hands in the air. “Useless,” he says, awed. “Absolutely useless. What did you expect me to do with that information? Am I going to take a pair of butt pads and ask every blond guy in the office to try them on to see who’s still flat as a board back there? Like some kind of fucked up Cinderella? Now I have no choice but to follow him around all day, I guess, to observe his behavior.”

“No,” Ten says. “I think you have other choices.”

“Wrong, I have no other choice,” Donghyuck says again. “No thanks to you, at least.”

“Well I helped you, didn’t I?” Ten frowns, like he didn’t just blatantly coerce Donghyuck into giving up his manager’s phone number for next-to-nothing in return. “At least now you can narrow it down a little. And you have a lead on a location, too.”

“I’m going to tell Yuta that you have a yeast infection.”

A pencil gets flung in the direction of his head. “Get out of my office before I mark you as Performing below expectations in work efficiency too.”

In the process of booking it the hell out of there, Donghyuck almost misses the shadowy figure next to the door as he rounds the corner.

“Hi, Hyuck,” the shadowy figure says.

“Jesus Christ,” Donghyuck practically jumps in place. “Warn a guy next time, Jaemin, please?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jaemin laughs, not sounding very sorry at all. His eyes blink at him, almost owlish in the flickering light of the hallway. “I didn’t mean to. Just wanted to know if you got around to sending out that email after last week’s call with the meeting minutes. For the new sales pursuit? I don’t think I ever got it.”

Oh fuck. “Strange,” Donghyuck says, tone even. He completely forgot to send that email. The minutes are still sitting in an unsaved word doc, unformatted. “Let me see if I can resend it once I get back to my desk. Have you checked your spam folder? Maybe it’s in there?”

Jaemin hums. “I suppose maybe it could be,” he says, and stares at him. “There was a lot of yelling in there just now, wasn’t there?”

“Was there?” Donghyuck’s default volume clocks in at between eighty to one-hundred decibels on a good day., and Ten’s not much better. He was pretty sure they were just having a normal-sounding conversation. “Sorry, didn’t notice. We were just, um, having a… personal discussion. Not business-related. Were you on an important call?”

Jaemin is kind of like Jeno in that he’s equal parts sexy and weird, except where Jeno is more quirky-weird, Jaemin is a little unsettling-weird. There’s something a little bit unearthly about him. If he told Donghyuck he was an alien, he would probably believe him. “I was on a call, but mine wasn’t business related, either.” he says, with a shrug. “So don’t worry about it.”

“I see,” Donghyuck says, feeling awkward for maybe the first time in his life, before he realizes— “Wait. You have blond hair.”

Jaemin continues to stare. “Yes? Is this a trick question?”

Donghyuck squints. “Can you turn around for me? Really quick. I promise it’s not weird.”

“Sure,” Jaemin says, like that is a totally chill and not weird thing to ask your coworker. Donghyuck has to give him credit for not immediately marching down the hall and reporting him when the HR Department, is like, right there. “Here I go.”

Jaemin rotates around slowly, with all the confidence in the world. And, oh— Donghyuck thinks. Oh. Now that’s a flat ass. There’s an ass that could pass for concave. If Donghyuck tried to slap that ass, not that he ever would, he is ninety-nine percent sure all the bones in his hand would shatter. He can’t look away. If he thought that time with Shotaro was bad, Renjun would probably have some choice words if he could see him now.

Donghyuck isn’t sure he’s ever seen Jaemin and Renjun interact. But, well, it’s not like he has any other leads. He mentally marks down Jaemin as a possibility.

“Hyuck, if you stare any longer, I might start blushing.” That seems hard to believe, given that Jaemin is just about the most shameless person in this office. And that’s coming from Donghyuck, of all people. “Can I turn back around yet?”

“Oops. Sorry. Yes, that’s fine. I was just, uh. I thought you had something on your pants.”

“What, like boyfriend material?” Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows.

“You know, I don’t really think that works in this situation.” Wait. Is Jaemin flirting with him? “Are you flirting with me?”

Jaemin shrugs, casual and feather-light in his total ease. “I actually have a boyfriend,” he says. Donghyuck would like very much to reply yes I know that that’s not technically an answer to my question though and also is Renjun Huang maybe the boyfriend in question. “So the next time you wanna stare at my ass, you should probably ask him first.”

This is his chance. Donghyuck goes in for the kill. “Are you dating R—”

“Jaemin,” A very frazzled Kun yells down the hallway. “Jaemin, you can’t just leave a meeting in the middle of a presentation like that, please get back here?”

“I thought you said you weren’t on a business call?” Donghyuck asks.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” Jaemin says flatly. “I’ve been caught! I’ll see you around, Donghyuck.” A pause, and then another grin. He has so many teeth. It’s a little mesmerizing. “Soon, I hope.”

It sounds more like a threat than a casual goodbye. Donghyuck can’t suppress the shiver that runs down his spine as he walks away.

It’s a little bit alarming, Donghyuck thinks, how many flat-assed blond men this company employs.

If you limit it to the men Renjun interacts with — he’s got it narrowed down to Yangyang from Legal, and Lucas in Sales. There’s Jaemin, too, he guesses, but he’s not convinced he and Renjun have ever even been spotted in the same room.

According to Renjun’s Outlook calendar, 12:00 means that it’s time for lunch with Yangyang, which means it’s time for Donghyuck to really start on his investigation shit. He’s got a hot pink lunchbox with him — which is kind of uncharacteristically cute — Donghyuck thinks, as he peers at Renjun through a large plant. Donghyuck then realizes that makes no sense because nothing Renjun does is cute, and also he knows for a fact that Renjun can’t cook for shit (if the way the entire office had avoided his “soup” at the Holiday potluck was any indication — plus, who in their right mind would bring soup to a potluck?).

“What are you doing,” Jisung-the-other-intern says with zero subtlety, peering over his shoulder.

“Shh,” Donghyuck hisses, dragging Jisung down by the collar to duck behind the plant before Renjun can turn around and see both of them there, just a couple feet away. “Jisung, be quiet, please? Please, just this once, for once in your life?”

Jisung frowns. “You’re acting weird.”

“Weird how?” Donghyuck darts his gaze towards Renjun, then back to Jisung. “This is how I always act. I’m acting normal.”

“You never say please.” Oh no, Donghyuck thinks. The consequences of my own actions. “What’s going on. Why does it look like you’re spying on Renjun?”

“I’m not!” Donghyuck says. Jisung gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look. He used to be so sweet when he started this internship at the beginning of the summer. Where did he learn that from? Probably Chenle. “Or— okay, fine, I am, a little bit. But it’s not for a creepy reason, I swear.”

“Is there any non-creepy reason to spy on someone?”

“Yes. National security, for one. Surveillance for crime deterrence. Should I keep going?”

Jisung stops to think. “Not unless any of those are the reason you’re following Renjun from three feet away and hiding in a parlor palm.”

“Well technically you’re the reason why I’m hiding in a parlor palm right now, but—” Right. Renjun. Donghyuck glances back and groans when he realizes he’s already lost track of him, the slippery bastard. “God, Jisung, look at what you’ve done, he got away. I’m just trying to figure out if he’s dating Yangyang or not.”

“Yangyang is straight,” Jisung says, matter-of-fact. “His favorite song is Mo Bamba. Why would you even think he was dating Renjun?”

This is, unfortunately, a good point. Donghyuck hasn’t heard Mo Bamba since 2017 when he was still in college. Even then, it was mostly just frat bros playing it at their shitty mixers. “Fair enough. Ten just told me he’s dating someone who’s blond and has no ass, and of all the men in the office I could only come up with Yangyang and Lucas.”

Jisung makes a confused noise. “Ah, that doesn’t seem right, though? I saw him leaving work the other day with someone who had dark hair.”

“Was I the only one who didn’t know he was dating someone?” Donghyuck asks. “Wait, never mind all of that, did you get a look at his ass?”

“Huh? No? Why would I have done that?” Jisung says, like he’s crazy.

“You’re useless, Jisung,” Donghyuck tells him, voice sad. “You are useless, and you’re never going to get a return offer here. I hope you like flipping burgers.”

“First of all, that’s classist,” Jisung frowns. “Second of all, I already got my return offer? I’m working here when I graduate. You were with me when my manager gave me my offer letter. Did you forget already?”

Donghyuck looks away glumly. “No one here ever lets me have anything. Now I’ll never find out who Renjun is dating, and I’m gonna get a terrible performance review, and I’ll never move up the corporate ladder, doomed to make slide decks and teach senior managers how to upload files to Microsoft Teams forever.”

“If you know Yangyang’s not at his desk right now,” Jisung starts. “Why don’t you just go take a look around and see if you can find any clues? I mean, you keep the one-year-workaversary card Renjun wrote for you on your desk, because he does that for all the employees here, and we just all pretend not to notice—”

“Okay, Jisung! Thank you! That’s enough!” Donghyuck says, loudly. He’s probably drawing attention to them. He needs to get out of here. “You’re so silly, I have no clue what you’re talking about! Maybe you need to get your eyes checked! Maybe you should go do that right now!”

“It’s the middle of the work day,” Jisung says. “We can’t just leave work. Do you leave work in the middle of the day? Is that why Renjun hates you?”

“Yes, it is,” Ten says, passing by, and dodges Donghyuck’s fist.

Technically, Legal is only three floors up from here. Three floors, three flights of stairs, eighty-four steps. Donghyuck knows this, and yet.

“Hi,” a voice says, unsure, as Donghyuck leans heavily on the railing. “Are you… are you okay?”

“Just leave me to die,” Donghyuck moans, bent at the waist in a ninety degree angle. He has so many regrets. He shouldn’t have let Chenle talk him into hotpot for lunch. He should’ve said yes when Johnny asked if he wanted to train for the office marathon with him. If he could do it all over again — well, he probably wouldn’t actually end up doing anything different, actually, but whatever. “Just look away, please, pretend you never saw anything. I probably look terrible. This is not how I want to be remembered in my death.”

“Donghyuck, I don’t think I can do that,” the person says. “That would be really bad for the client. And I always think you look very nice, actually.”

“What?” Donghyuck says.

“What?” The other person replies, sounding embarrassed.

Donghyuck cranes his neck upward, and — oh, it’s Jeno. That’s not ideal. Jeno, who is sexy and fit and probably could run a marathon in his sleep is not his first choice in terms of coworkers he would like to be seen by in his current vulnerable, kind-of-sweaty state.

“Thanks, I think?” Jeno blinks. Donghyuck is ninety-nine percent sure he didn’t say any of that out loud. “No, you did.”

“Fuck,” Donghyuck says. “I mean. Some weather we’re having, right?”

“I… I guess so?”

More silence.

“Sucks that the elevators are out, aren’t they?” Donghyuck laughs, for lack of anything better to say. “I mean, stairs, right? What is this, the 17th century?”

“Oh,” Jeno rubs the back of his neck, seeming embarrassed. “I actually always take the stairs.”

“Always?” Donghyuck repeats, in disbelief. “Like, always, always? Even when we have meetings in the top floor conference room? Even though our desks are on the third floor? Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Exercise,” Jeno says, like it’s obvious. Donghyuck finally rises to his full height with the last ounce of dignity he has remaining and notices a flash of hot pink.

Jeno's holding a lunch box. The same absolutely-offensive-pepto-bismol shade of pink as the one Renjun had been holding earlier. It might be a coincidence, but it doesn't feel like one.

Donghyuck needs to play his cards right. "So… do you do a lot of cooking?" he asks, looking pointedly at the lunchbox while watching Jeno's face very carefully.

"Um, not really," Jeno says, eyes darting down to the lunchbox too. He seems almost panicked. "My boyfriend made me lunch today. Usually I just grab something from the cafe downstairs.”

"Interesting. You know, I saw Renjun earlier with the s—"

"I gotta go," Jeno interrupts him. "Sorry. You know. Client calls. And stuff. You know how it is. Goodbye, Donghyuck."

"We’re on the same project, Jeno," Donghyuck says. "There’s no client call right now."

Jeno takes off in a flurry, again, and Donghyuck feels a vague sense of deja vu. It's strange, really, that Jeno always seems to be running away from him nowadays, but Donghyuck can only handle one mystery at a time.

It only takes Donghyuck five seconds to conclude that Yangyang is maybe the most heterosexual man alive. His desk is a mess of legal memos, manila folders, and random, crumpled receipts from takeout. The only thing that's pristine is a framed and signed photo of Travis Scott: which is kind of a flex. Mostly, it's just weird.

"Donghyuck?" Yangyang asks from behind him. Fuck. "What're you doing here?"

Donghyuck plasters on his best casual-coworker expression and turns around with a smile. "Oh, Yangyang! I didn't see you there."

"This is my desk."

"Right," Donghyuck grimaces. "Um. Did you guys get a chance to look at the sales contract we just sent over?"

"The one your manager sent over ten minutes before our lunch break started?" Yangyang asks. "Uh, no. Not yet."

This is not going well. "Oh, okay. Just wanted to check. You know how it is."

"Hmm," Yangyang says, and stares at him. Donghyuck is not a quitter, so he stares back. "Are you sure that's the only reason you're here? A little birdy..." Chenle, Donghyuck thinks, with the sour taste of betrayal. "Told me you were maybe interested in..." Definitely Chenle, then. "A certain coworker in the HR Department." Yeah, it's Chenle. Donghyuck is going to throttle him, workplace harassment laws be damned.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Donghyuck replies stiffly.

Yangyang claps a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, man," he says. "Love is love, alright? I'm not judging. Don’t be shy, bro."

"This isn't... you're not..." Donghyuck trails off, at a loss for words.

"No, I'm straight," Yangyang replies. And, well, yeah, Donghyuck knows that now. "Though Travis Scott is definitely my celebrity sexception. I'm a big ally, though, okay, so I'm going to help you out here. You should go to the break room on this floor right now."

"Should I?" Donghyuck really, really doesn't want to walk anymore.

"Yes." Yangyang says. "You should. And you want to do it, too. Like. Right now."

"Okay, jeez, fine, I'm going," Donghyuck says nervously. Is Yangyang sending him to his death? Probably not, but Donghyuck doesn't know him well enough to rule it out entirely. With the exception of a few people taking lunch at their desk the office is mostly empty at this hour, so it's pretty noticeable when he nears the break room and hears two hushed voices — both vaguely familiar.

He angles himself so that he can just barely see into the room without being seen in turn (it's not creepy, okay, he's doing this for a morally just reason that he can't quite place right now but will certainly come up with if just given enough time to think about it). Renjun's there, and so is — Jaemin? Weird. This might be the first time Donghyuck's seen them having a conversation. Jaemin is leaning in a little bit more than can be considered a strictly professional amount, and he's looking at Renjun with these big shiny eyes like he's in love with him, but the thing about Jaemin is that he kind of looks at everyone like he's a little bit in love with them, so that's not weird. The weird thing is that Renjun doesn't seem bothered by his proximity. He's even leaning into it a little bit? That could still all be friend behavior though, Donghyuck thinks, before he suddenly notices Jaemin's hand, which had previously been perched on Renjun's shoulder in a very work-platonic manner, drifting further south to decidedly not-so-work-platonic places.

Jaemin full-on grabs Renjun's ass, the fucking madman, and Donghyuck waits, and waits, and waits for Renjun to do something about it. Like scream, maybe, or call him a pervert, or threaten to call security on him.

Renjun glances over his shoulder, like he's checking to confirm they're still alone, which — they're not alone, Donghyuck is still there — but he's doing maybe too great of a job keeping hidden, and he's starting to feel like a creepy voyeur instead of a sexy detective. He rocks forward, on his tiptoes (God, he's so fucking short), and leans in to kiss him on the cheek, sweet and chaste. He has his proof — he could go, but — Donghyuck watches as Jaemin wraps his free arm around his waist, tugs him in close for another kiss, a proper one this time.

Donghyuck almost doesn't recognize Renjun when he pulls back. The smile on his face is not one that has ever been directed at himself.

"So remind me," Chenle says, after he's peeled Donghyuck's hands off his neck. "If you know who Renjun is dating, why are you still following him around?"

"Evidence was inconclusive." Donghyuck waves him off. Renjun is currently rearranging all the file folders on his desk by color, size, and category, a couple feet away from them, and Donghyuck wonders if he ever gets tired of his own neuroses. His headset is on but he hasn’t unmuted his mic in almost twenty minutes, so it’s safe to say he’s currently occupied with probably the least engaging Zoom call in the world. "It's not gay to kiss the homies on the mouth, necessarily."

"No, it kind of is," Chenle says. Donghyuck chooses to tune that one out. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“My refusal to work is a bold, anticapitalist act of civil disobedience. I’m bridging the gap between theory and praxis. I don’t expect you to understand.” Just because capitalism requires him to physically be in the building today doesn’t mean he actually has to do the job he’s being paid to do. It’s the same reason he insists on taking 20 minute breaks every other hour to shit on company time without clocking out. Donghyuck once took a Philosophy class in college to fulfill a liberal arts requirement, and he thinks Karl Marx would approve. xcept he got a C in that class, so maybe he doesn’t totally understand what Das Kapital was really about.

“It’s not anticapitalist to be bad at your job, but whatever,” Chenle mutters. "So, what, you just follow him around to see if he kisses anyone else? To see if he’s maybe secretly the office slut?"

Donghyuck snorts. "Don't be ridiculous, Chenle," he replies. "The office slut is Dejun. Everyone knows that."

The truth is that there is still something that doesn’t seem quite right to Donghyuck. It all goes back to Jeno Lee. The hot pink lunch boxes. The way Jeno ran away when Donghyuck had mentioned Renjun: not once, but twice.

Chenle nods solemnly. “That’s true. He definitely is.”

“By the way,” Donghyuck says, in his best attempt at a casual tone of voice. “Have you seen Jeno around?”

“Just saw him on the stairs heading down to the first floor.” Chenle replies. “Why?”

“Oh, you know,” Donghyuck says, already heading in that direction. “Client stuff. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I’m only two years younger than you,” Chenle replies, but Donghyuck is already gone.

He knows something is odd the minute he steps into the stairwell. It’s… a little too quiet, maybe. Everyone should be back from lunch by now, so that’s not the part that’s odd, but there’s a vague rustling noise, suddenly, and then two voices, low and quiet. Donghyuck hears something like where is he, and then does it matter, before the whispering turns into heavy breathing. He steps closer, looks over the railing.

And Donghyuck is not a voyeur. He is not a fucking creep, okay? If Nancy Drew were investigating a suspicious character and a clue led her to a location, she would most definitely go towards the source of any weird noises. Nancy would never let a mystery go unsolved. So when Donghyuck looks over the railing and sees Jaemin Na with fucking Jeno Lee pinned to the wall and continues to look instead of walking away, it is because more evidence needs to be gathered before he can draw a logical conclusion. He’s being thorough. This is what he tells himself as he watches Jaemin shove a thigh between Jeno’s legs and stick his tongue down his throat. Jaemin is either trying to unhinge his jaw to devour him whole, like a snake eats its prey, or he is giving him the sloppiest kiss of all time, and Jeno is— into it, it looks like? Donghyuck watches on as Jeno wraps a leg around Jaemin to bring him in closer, arms anchored firmly at his waist. Guys, he thinks desperately, as Jaemin gets a hand in Jeno’s dark hair and tugs. Guys, this is still a workplace, guys, remember?

Jaemin looks up just as Jeno lets out a whine, making eye contact with Donghyuck directly, and grins wide.

Donghyuck fucking bolts.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Donghyuck ignores Chenle’s prodding, determinedly Does Not Look in the direction of Jeno’s cubicle, and definitely Does Not Think about Jeno’s thighs braced between Jaemin’s, or Jaemin’s mouth on his neck, or anything of the sort. Donghyuck never pegged Jeno as the side-hoe type (or the type to be a freaky exhibitionist) but he supposes a company can only repeat bring your whole self to work! enough times before people start bringing their vaguely slutty sides to work, too.

Here is the conundrum: He can tell Renjun his boyfriend is cheating on him, but then he would have to explain to Renjun how he knew who he was dating, and then he would have to explain to Renjun why he was watching them, and then he would have to explain to Renjun why he was following him, and that would not end up well for anyone, least of all Donghyuck. On the other hand, he can decide not to tell Renjun his boyfriend is cheating on him, because it is none of his business and he doesn’t even like him anyways, hope it was a one-time transgression on Jaemin’s part, and then just let him live without the knowledge that his significant other has betrayed his trust. But then Renjun would find out on his own, eventually, Donghyuck knows Renjun is too smart to not notice something like this, and he would probably make such a stupid, sad face, and his stupid sparkly eyes would get all wide, and maybe he would even have to wipe away his own tears with his stupid little hands, and.

Donghyuck groans, and slams his head on the keyboard.

“Um, Donghyuck?” Yuta says, voice filtering through his headset. “Your microphone isn’t muted right now.”

“Sorry,” Donghyuck says. “Sorry— Um. I dropped something.” He makes sure to press mute this time, grateful that for once the client hasn’t asked everyone to have their videos on.

The client keeps them over two minutes, but then he’s done for the day. He could technically go home, but there is something clawing at him — guilt, dismayingly? Gross. That’s an emotion Donghyuck has never felt in his life, and he’s not pleased that it’s suddenly starting to show now. But he knows he has to tell Renjun, even if it hurts him. Even if Renjun doesn’t believe him, he deserves to know. For the first time, Donghyuck is choosing the moral high ground.

He goes through the motions of submitting his timecard for the week, practicing his opening the entire time — Renjun, I saw your boyfriend— no. Starting off like that will only prompt more questions. Renjun, I know you’re dating Jaemin, and— no, too direct. Renjun, your boyfriend is sexy but he is a massive man whore, and you can do better. There. That’s perfect.

Plan of attack decided on, Donghyuck marches the twenty-eight stairs up to the Human Resources department. He fully intends on following through with it too, except it looks like there's someone at Renjun's desk and Donghyuck is not in the business of humiliating Renjun in front of others. Only himself. Donghyuck’s steps slow as he observes from his spot behind the wall. Renjun's laughing lowly at something they said, one hand wound around the tie at their neck. "I'm starting to think you just pretend not to know how to knot your own tie so that you can ask me to keep doing it," he teases, and tugs him down, except that's not Jaemin, it's — Donghyuck processes it all at once.

Tight little slacks, dark hair, glasses, well-sculpted thighs, and an ass he could've spotted a mile away.

"Jeno?" he says aloud, then immediately claps a hand over his own mouth. Fuck.

Jeno's head whips around, and Donghyuck ducks back into the shadows. "Hello?" he asks. "Is someone there?"

Donghyuck, for the first time in his life (lots of firsts today, seems like) stays perfectly silent.

"Huh," Jeno says. "That's funny, I could've sworn I heard something."

"Hey, hello? I think you were in the middle of something here," Renjun whines. Jeno leans down for a kiss, and, okay, Donghyuck is fucking baffled, but it seems like he's in the clear, so maybe he should just go home, think deeply about everything he's seen today, then try again another time. Yeah. He should definitely do that.

And then, because God is a homophobe who hates him: "Oh, bye, Donghyuck," Jisung says loudly, waving. "Hey, why are you hiding? Stop pretending you didn't see me, I know you did because we just made eye contact?" Donghyuck is going to get his offer rescinded so fucking hard. "Whatever, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Donghyuck? Donghyuck, we all heard that, I know you're watching." Renjun calls. Donghyuck skulks out of the shadows. "Why are you here?"

"Um. Paperwork reasons." Donghyuck tries, and gets two blank faces in return. Tough crowd. "Okay, no. Sorry, I'll be serious now. I'm here because I need to tell you something very important, and it has to do with him—" Jeno points a finger at himself, and mouths, me? "Yeah, you— and I think you'll want to hear it."

Renjun raises a well-groomed eyebrow at him. "I think you might be misunderstanding something," he says slowly. "But I've never seen you this serious in the entire two years you've worked here, so go for it, I guess."

"Jaemin is cheating on you," Donghyuck blurts out. "He's cheating on you with Jeno, I saw them in the stairs today."

"Donghyuck," Renjun says. "I'm dating Jeno."

“So Jeno was cheating on you?” Donghyuck pauses. No, wait, that’s not right. “Wait, you’re cheating on Jaemin?”

“I’m dating both of them. Like, they’re dating each other too. We are all dating each other. All three of us.” Donghyuck feels like he’s been sucker punched. All three of them?

Too scared to speak up himself, Jeno nods furiously from where he’s half-hidden behind Renjun: which happens to look fucking hilarious because Renjun is approximately the size of a 16 oz soda can. “Both of them,” Donghyuck repeats dumbly. Renjun nods in confirmation. “That’s… so unethical, what the hell?”

Renjun’s eyes narrow, and he steps forward. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asks darkly, and shrugs off Jeno’s hand where he’s trying to hold him back.

“Come on, Renjun, it’s okay,” Jeno is whispering nervously. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. Let’s just leave. Or should I leave? Should I go?”

“No, Jeno, I’m fucking tired of it, okay?” Renjun snaps. “Donghyuck, how is it unethical? There is no rule against dating coworkers. My manager is aware of the nature of our relationship. I don’t handle any of their evaluations. There’s an HR Business Partner BCC’ed on all of our emails.”

“Uh, there is?” Jeno asks. Renjun sighs.

“I don’t know!” Donghyuck says. He’s perfectly aware at this point that he’s beginning to spiral, that words are just coming up without passing through his admittedly limited-to-begin-with brain to mouth filter. Just absolute word vomit, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. “Favoritism? Nepotism? Quid pro pro workplace harassment? I’m sure there’s something in there!”

“Well, there’s not,” Renjun scowls. “This doesn’t even have anything to do with you, so why do you care?”

“Because,” Donghyuck blurts out, without thinking. Oh god. The word vomit. It’s coming up. “If you were going to date anybody in the office, it should’ve been me.” The words leave his mouth before he can fully process them. This is worse than the time he fell offstage during a choir recital, worse than the time he got stuck in a swing and had to call 911, worse than every other terrible and embarrassing moment in his entire life, and he is fucking horrified. There is absolutely no coming back from this.

Renjun gapes at him.

“Yeah,” Jeno says, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Um, I think I should leave.”

“No need,” Donghyuck manages, after a few more moments of prolonged silence. “I’ll show myself the exit first.”

Donghyuck wakes to a flurry of knocking.

He is at least ninety-nine percent sure he didn’t order delivery (his drown your sorrows in DoorDash phase had ended exactly 48-hours ago, somewhere between the delivery guy recognizing him by name and the humiliation of receiving two sets of utensils for what was a perfectly reasonable one-person portion of food). All his friends know better than to show up at his door without texting. His mom doesn’t, but she’s also in South Korea, so it’s not her.

The knocking doesn’t let up, even after a couple of minutes — but Donghyuck is not a horror movie character, so he’s not about to just go open the door willy-nilly for any murderer to walk in, god forbid. “Donghyuck,” a shrill voice yells from outside. “Donghyuck, I know you’re in there, open up!”

Oh, he realizes. Renjun is here. Donghyuck would have preferred the murderer.

“Hey, Renjun,” he replies, through the door. “Yeah, I got your email, I’ll be back in the office on Monday, I’ll see you then, you can go now!”

“Dumbass, that’s not why I’m here, we need to talk—”

“Talk?” Donghyuck yells back, just-as-shrill. “I have no idea what you’re saying, we have nothing to talk about—”

“Donghyuck,” a third voice cuts in, saccharine sweet. “Please open the door before I get Jeno to break it down.”

“I’m not going to break his door down, Jaemin, stop telling people I can do that.” A fourth voice says. Jesus, is the entire office here, or just the portion that’s fucking Renjun? “But, um. Donghyuck, it’s kind of cold out, so if you could let us in…”

What a stupid thing to say. Why should Donghyuck care that it’s cold out? They’re the ones choosing to stand out there. Donghyuck does not care that three of his workplace crushes who all happen to be dating each other are standing out there on his doorstep, in the cold, possibly shivering and sad and miserable.

“Please?” Renjun says, barely audible.

God. This man does not play fair. Donghyuck opens the door wordlessly, shuffles aside so they can walk past him.

“We brought soup,” Jaemin beams at him, and pushes a hot pink lunch box into his hand.

“We heard you were sick. Renjun was freaking out about it, so we decided to come visit.” Jeno offers before Donghyuck can ask.

Renjun hisses, “I was not freaking out,” and Jaemin pats him on the shoulder, soothing.

“He was so worried,” he whispers in Donghyuck’s direction conspiratorially. “Don’t listen to him. He was ready to come knocking down your door by the second day you didn’t show up to work.”

“Guys, can you please— can we just have a second?” Renjun throws a pleading look at them. “Just go into the kitchen or something and reheat the soup, maybe?”

“Um, this is my apartment.” Donghyuck says, even as Jeno and Jaemin nod quickly and make themselves scarce. “Do you make a habit of just showing up to random employees’ houses with your two boyfriends and inviting yourself in? That doesn’t feel like it would be company-approved.”

“I don’t know.” Renjun turns on him, and Donghyuck gulps. He’s kind of scared, but in a sexy way, maybe? It’s very confusing. “Do you make a habit of stalking all of your coworkers and their boyfriends, professing your love to them, running away, and then skipping an entire week of work instead of having an adult conversation about it?”

“Would it help if I said yes? Also, I didn’t profess my love to you, that’s kind of dramatic?”

“Come on, what the hell was that, Donghyuck?” Renjun asks. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Of course I meant it,” Donghyuck hisses. “God, I’ve been flirting with you since the Christmas party, you would have to be an idiot not to notice—”

Renjun curls a hand into the collar of his shirt and yanks, and Donghyuck goes stumbling forward, straight into Renjun’s mouth. As far as first kisses go it’s not graceful. Or life-shattering. Or anything like that, but Renjun’s lips are warm and slightly chapped beneath his, and his waist feels just as tiny as it looks in his stupid tight button-ups when Donghyuck fits his hands around it, and that’s enough for Donghyuck’s world to shift on its axis. Renjun pushes him against the door, and doesn’t even protest when Donghyuck slides a hand into his back pocket to feel him up. Score!

“Okay,” Renjun says when they stop to breathe, because tragically Donghyuck’s lungs are not as powerful as they were before like when he starred in his high school’s production of Hamilton. He can only hold his breath for so long. “That was… not the most terrible kiss I’ve ever had.” Donghyuck guesses this is just his way of saying Donghyuck has the mouth of a God and he feels crazy-horny right now.

“Wait a minute, how did you know where I lived?” Donghyuck asks. “Oh my god, did you look in my employee file?”

Renjun blushes, scowling. “It was for emergency purposes,” he insists. “I wouldn’t normally, but I was worried, okay?”

“I don’t know, Renjun,” Donghyuck says very seriously. “That’s very unprofessional, and you know how much of a stickler I am for the rules. I think I’m going to have to ask you to leave now, but your malewives can stay.”

“God, shut up,” Renjun says, and bites harshly at his bottom lip, because he’s mean like that. “But you know that we’ve all been trying to flirt with you since before the Christmas party, right?”

“Uh, we?” Donghyuck asks dumbly. It’s a testament to how far gone Renjun is that he’s not even trying to call it the Office Non-Denominational Holiday Party instead. “All of you?”

Renjun leans up to kiss him again in lieu of an answer, moving one hand to Donghyuck’s hair. Suddenly, everything else fades into the background.

“Aw,” Jaemin’s voice interrupts them, and Donghyuck jerks back. God, he’d nearly forgotten they were there. “See, Jeno, they’re just making out here. I told you we could’ve gotten away with a handy in the kitchen, but you said it would be rude.” Jaemin’s wearing the Kiss the Cook! apron that Mark got him as a housewarming gift, and Donghyuck is not sure how he found it.

“Jeno is right, that would be rude,” Donghyuck says. Jeno’s entire face blooms into a smile, delighted at even the tiniest bit of praise.

“It’s probably also a food safety violation,” he adds, helpfully.

Jaemin waves his hand dismissively. “Details,” he says. “So do we get a turn to kiss him now, or what?”

Renjun groans. “I haven’t even gotten a chance to ask him yet, Jaemin, calm down?”

“Wait,” Donghyuck pauses. “What are you guys implying? What is this—”

“What Jaemin is trying to say,” Jeno says with a meaningful glance at the man in question. “Is that we like you. All of us do. And if you… want us, you have us. In whatever way you want.”

“Only if you’re into it,” Renjun says. “Whatever. It’s casual. I don’t care.” Into it. Donghyuck is so fucking into it and Renjun must be fucking crazy if he can’t see it.

“Yes. Yes, I’m into it,” he blurts out. “Like, into all of you guys. Very much so.” Cringe. “Sorry, I’m not actually… good with words.” Corporate talk comes easy, sweet talk even easier, but emotions are uncharted territory.

Jaemin’s eyes glint, and he steps forward, predator seeking prey. “I don’t know about that, Donghyuck,” he says, and Donghyuck feels Jeno step into the space next to him, where Renjun has moved aside. Maybe God is real, or something, he decides, as Jeno’s thumb strokes over the inside of his bicep. Thank you, Jesus, and I’m very sorry I got blackout drunk at your birthday party, but I would do it all over again if it led to this. “From what I can see, you’re very good with your mouth.”

They agree to keep it under wraps, at least for a few months.

In that time, Donghyuck learns several things:

Jeno likes his eggs over-easy, Renjun scrambled, and Jaemin hard-boiled.

That, maybe, he was the problem after all, because Ten is his new HR Representative and he, too, gives Donghyuck a Below expectations in Professionalism for the first quarter performance review.

To always share the window, not the whole screen, when he’s presenting on Zoom, because Jaemin is unhinged and if Donghyuck thought his emails were bad, his Slack messages are even worse, and he will not repeat the mistake of having a client see several very-inappropriate notifications pop up in the corner of his laptop.

That between the four of them, Jeno might seem like the voice of reason at first, but is secretly the neediest at work, always trying to hold his hand in the elevator and steal kisses between meetings.

That Renjun is still a pain in his ass, but in the fun, sexy way, mostly, and even when he’s not, Donghyuck loves him all the same.

“Hey,” Yuta catches him by the shoulder, one balmy day in June. “Just wanted to let you know that for this quarter, your Professionalism score actually got bumped up to Usually meets expectations. Ten said that Renjun vouched for you. So, I don’t know what you said to him to get him to change his mind, but it must’ve been very convincing.”

"Oh," Donghyuck says, and smiles. "Right. Well, I’ve been told I'm very good with my mouth."