Work Text:
“I never stress,” he says with a sneer in your direction.
But he does stress. He stresses the first syllable in “never”, tongue tip nearly sucking flesh from the roof of his mouth as he spits out the word. He stresses his own self-importance with his determined gaze. And he stresses the disdain that he immediately has for you as he runs that determined gaze around your perimeter, outlining you, your form like a cookie cutter, thinking that you’re essentially just that — just another rando with a less-than-stellar resume under their arm.
You stress, too.
But you take a seat at the table anyway.
And you set your resume, kept pristine in a leather folio, in front of the man flashing curious eyes at you both.
“Glad you’re on board,” that one says, adjusting his glasses to inspect your resume. “We find that doing these stress interviews adds an element of competitive energy that is advantageous to the candidate selection process.” He smiles at you as he finishes reading your perfectly bulleted list of achievements. “The standouts really stand out,” he summarizes.
“Just appreciate getting to be part of the process, Mr. Park,” you reply, mirroring his smile as you hang your coat on the back of your chair.
“Call me Jimin,” he replies, his tone getting friendlier by the minute. “And I appreciate your appreciation.”
If there’s one thing you don’t stress about, it’s the ability to connect. While a rare few may admittedly have you beat on things like work experience or business savvy, no one can connect to people like you do, and that is a savviness of its own.
“Well, Jimin,” the other candidate butts in, leaning forward, “I think you’ll note that punctuality is something important to appreciate when dealing with clients.”
The candidate looks at his phone pointedly before sliding it back into his pocket, patting it to make sure everything else in that pocket is still in place.
“That is true,” Jimin replies, nodding and turning to the candidate, sharing a knowing glance with him. Jimin sets your resume down on the table, side-by-side with the other candidate’s simple folder, before looking back up at you and raises his eyebrows. “Mr. Jeon and I have been waiting for a little while.” He gestures to his coffee mug. “There was even time for a refill.”
“My train was delayed,” you reply, trying to relax your mouth so as not to push your words through grit teeth. “I also had a little bit of trouble finding the coffee shop. That street outside is so busy. I hope you got my texts as I was searching.” You hang your head a bit. “Apologies.”
“Excuses,” Jungkook mutters, tossing the word aside as he turns his body away from you and back to Jimin. “And, please, Jimin, you can call me Jungkook.”
From the looks of it, you and Jungkook do share quite a bit in common. Your resumes are comparable; a quick glance at both of your resumes shows that you’ve had similar paths and interests, and excelled at the same kinds of things. Your shared penchants for competitiveness seem to be rearing their ugly heads, circling as if about to brawl. And rather than feeling deflated, you both seem to be spurred on by the teasing, pot-stirring look in Jimin’s smirk.
“Great. Then you get the first question, Jungkook,” Jimin replies.
He leans down and picks up a tablet from his bag. The screen clicks on and comes to life. Jimin detaches the pen-shaped stylus nestled in a notch at the side of the case, and, in getting ready to capture your answers, he lets his hand hang near the top of the screen.
“In the first round of interviews, we talked about a scenario where our advertising agency had taken on a new client,” Jimin begins. “What do you remember about that client?”
“Bankers,” Jungkook replies. “They were consulting with us after some kind of security breach. They want to reassure their customers that they essentially have everything under control.”
“Nice,” Jimin replies. “Over to you, then.” His eyes meet yours. “What do you remember about the initial meeting?”
“I remember that they seemed quite impressed with the way I handled that hypothetical proposal,” you remind him, smiling brightly. “We discussed a series of commercials and social media posts that acknowledged rather than buried the scandal. Lots of imagery of unsure people changing their minds after reading updated brochures, meeting with financial advisors, and that sort of thing.” You feel so much pride in your idea, as if it had been a real proposal. The goal was to communicate ownership of the problem while also being transparent about what they’re going to change.”
Jimin chuckles to himself. “Yes. But let’s say that you’ve given that first pitch, and this client now expresses dissatisfaction with the direction our creative team has presented.”
“Probably because it wasn’t as impressive a proposal as you thought,” Jungkook murmurs your way.
You’ll let the gnat buzz all it wants. It doesn’t have teeth.
“Is there something specific that the client has given in their feedback?” you ask, keeping your eyes locked on Jimin.
“No,” Jimin says, seemingly thrilled to launch you into this hellish nightmare. “And they’ve been a bit aggressive, to boot. A complete 180 from the first meeting that you’d had with them. They don’t want to acknowledge the scandal at all. They want to move forward.”
“Maybe they were being fake at first,” Jungkook suggests. “I’d suggest catering to their current direction. No harm there.”
The gnat likes to stroke egos. You know that will only get him so far.
“Kind of harsh to judge the client like that,” you reply, disgusted at Jungkook’s quickness to appeasement. “And doing that doesn’t really address the situation that they’re coming to us for in the first place.” You turn to Jimin. “This is one of those times when a leader has to show a calm sense of assurance,” you explain. “I trust in the vision. I’d probably say something like, we’d be happy to change the creative proposal, but the core of the matter is honesty. There’s no getting around it. It’s absolutely vital.”
Jungkook scoffs, smoothing his tie against his body and leaning back in his seat. “You wanna make it in this business?” he asks. “You’re gonna have to examine what ‘honesty’ really means. I mean, you don’t exactly tell your boss when he’s got a terrible haircut, or that his suit is unflattering, or that he’s wearing awkward looking glasses that don’t really frame his face well—”
Jimin pushes his lips out, his expression souring as his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose.
“I-I mean,” Jungkook quickly readjusts, “you don’t just call it out like that.” He gestures to the general space around you, at your table. “Instead, you should nudge. You should make suggestions here and there. You should sneak in messages of reassurance in a way that doesn’t threaten their pride.”
You roll your eyes, and Jimin takes notice.
“You disagree?” he provokes.
As you take a deep breath, you think through exactly how you want to share what you want to say.
“Respectfully,” you admit.
“Honesty. Respect.” Jungkook grins. He hums. “Such a good girl.”
This is when you snap.
“Can we do this without all the condescension??” you demand. “Have I done something to upset you? Because so far, all I’ve done is say hi, tell you my name, sit down at the table, and try to answer Jimin’s questions. I don’t happen to agree with what you’re saying, but I don’t believe I’ve dismissed you outright. Besides, I believe in the vision that I proposed, and I don’t appreciate the way you critiqued it by telling me what I should do instead.” You force the last of your words out quickly, before your burst of confidence fades. “I’m a hard worker, and I always want to do right by people. I believe that starts with the way I treat the people I work with, clients and teammates alike.”
“Hmm.” Jimin grins to himself. “Well.” He exchanges a glance with Jungkook. “I think that means we’re done here.”
“Wait.” Your eyes widen. “D-done?”
“Yes,” Jimin replies, closing his tablet case and stuffing it and Jungkook’s resume into his bag. “Thanks for your time. We’ll, uh, be in touch.”
He stands and reaches out for your hand. Though you stand, smile, accept the handshake, and thank him for the opportunity as professionally as you can, once Jimin disappears into the crowd on the busy street outside, you flop down into your seat and sigh in aggravation.
It doesn’t help to see your resume still sitting on the table.
“Well, that was something,” Jungkook says, leaning forward in his chair and smirking at you.
It’s probably a good thing that you haven’t had any coffee. You’re glad that you said what you said. You think it came out appropriately. But caffeine in your system might’ve meant completely abandoning decorum.
“Are you always that rude?” you ask.
Jungkook laughs. “Maybe.”
“Well, no wonder you’re still on the job hunt,” you grumble, picking up your folio and putting it into your purse.
You stand to leave, but you’re surprised to find that Jungkook stands with you, kind of getting in your way.
“Look, I know that was kind of intense,” he says, straightening his suit jacket. “You never did get a coffee. Can I buy you one now?”
“No,” you say curtly, moving to shove past him.
“C’mon.” Jungkook grins. “We both know I’m getting this job. Let me buy you a coffee on their dime.”
The anger is seeping through your pores. You’re sure people can smell it on you, stronger than the arabica beans being pressed up at the counter.
“No harm, right?” Jungkook asks, shrugging.
You had planned on being in this interview for a few hours at least. Who knew what you were going to do afterwards. It’s not like you have any place to be. And a free coffee is a coffee that is free, even if it’s being served by a complete asshole.
You sit back down.
“Mocha latte,” you reply.
Jungkook nods once before strolling up to the counter.
You watch him interact with the barista. He seems calmer now. Probably soothed by the added confidence of knowing he’s secured a job.
Or maybe that confidence comes from everything else about him. His build, strong and sure. Athletic. That’s probably where that competitive nature stems from. And those looks. Celebrity-tier. Not many people can pull off that long-haired look. If you hadn’t found out immediately that he was a complete dick, you would definitely be one of the people sitting at the tables off to the side, admiring and giggling about him as they observe the rest of the coffee shop.
As he waits for your orders to be made, he pulls his phone out. His wallet pokes out near the top of his pocket. Some kind of blue cloth hangs out, too. A handkerchief? He checks his phone, types something, and then he stuffs it back inside, making sure nothing else falls out.
You wonder what the message was. Was it Jimin’s offer? How much will Jungkook get paid?
It’s been so long since you’ve gotten paid. It must be nice to get paid.
When Jungkook finally turns around, two mugs in hand, you look away immediately and wonder just how long you’ve been staring.
He sits back down and sets your latte in front of you.
“Congrats are in order, no?” he jeers, raising his mug.
“If you think I’m going to cheers you on getting this job, you’re just as stupid as you act,” you say, tilting the mug against your lips and trying to enjoy this consolation prize.
“As long as I don’t look stupid,” he replies, smiling.
“Of course you’d be vain,” you grumble.
He laughs and sips from his mug. He watches you as you lean back in your seat, setting your mug back down and letting your gaze fall unfocused.
“Been rough out there, I take it?” Jungkook asks.
“You know how it is.” You pout. “I really wanted this job, too. I felt like I could really do it.”
“Can’t always get what you want,” Jungkook says, shrugging and taking another sip of his coffee.
You nod. You’ve learned that lesson before. You’ve taught that lesson before.
“Liked how you fought for it, though,” Jungkook replies thoughtfully.
You turn to him, thrown by the compliment. “Oh, so now that all is said and done, you shed the condescension?”
“It’s a rat race,” Jungkook replies, “but you and I seem to share an affinity for honest conversations.”
“I like mine to be a little less mean,” you point out, folding your arms.
“Fair,” Jungkook says, nodding. “But if it’s worth anything to you, I had to try really hard to be mean to you.”
You shake your head. So the gnat admits it. “You were trying to make me bomb this interview?”
“Well, I mean, yeah,” Jungkook replies. “Obviously. That’s how these things are done.”
“And so you think this coffee makes up for that?” you ask.
“No,” Jungkook says, in that calm, increasingly infuriating way that he seems to have a knack for, “I just figured you’d like a coffee.” He shrugs. “I don’t want this to get personal. I actually like your style. The way you think.” He grins, seemingly earnestly, at you. “Maybe we can get to know each other better?”
**
Jungkook’s hand chases yours as you give up on running your card through the reader on the turnstyle.
“Are you—”
You turn around and furrow your brow at Jungkook.
“Are you following me??” you ask, voice a little more timid than you were hoping it would sound.
Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No! This is my train.”
“This is my train,” you say, frowning.
He smirks. “So then it’s both our trains.”
You want to tear your hair out. “I can’t believe you followed me.”
“Seems like it helped you out,” Jungkook observes.
You throw your card back into your purse. “The reader’s broken, or something,” you say. “I know my card is full. Now please tell me why the hell you’re following me.”
“Look, I swear, this is my train,” Jungkook says adamantly. “I didn’t realize you were right in front of me in this line. You ran out of the coffee shop so fast that I lost track of you in the crowd.” He frowns. He almost looks disappointed.
You both make your way to the train platform, and Jungkook annoyingly waits next to you, just checking his phone or checking the announcements screen, completely unaware at how just his presence is making you want to throw yourself onto the third rail.
“Is the eastbound train the one you took up here?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the train arriving at the opposite end of the platform.
You deny yourself the satisfaction of slapping him across the face. “Yeah, obviously,” you mutter.
“No wonder you were late,” he says. “That line operates on a new schedule. It only runs three times a day.” He blinks at the announcements screen. “Seems like this one is going to be delayed, too.”
You groan and wander over to some empty benches. You take your purse off your shoulder and set it in the empty seat next to you, rubbing where the straps had been digging into your skin.
Jungkook unfortunately follows you.
He stands there, close by, just kind of hovering.
And then, he asks, “Tired?”
“C’mon, man, I clearly want my space,” you sigh. You lean forward to rub your ankles. Gone are the days of your joints being unknown to you. Running around the city in heels all day means that when you get home, you’ll have to do a soak.
Jungkook looks around. “Barely any people here.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Though, by the looks of it, that’ll also change,” Jungkook replies.
You look over at him to see him blinking at the announcements screen. There are now two delays. Something about a driver shortage. The next train won’t arrive for a while, forcing you to have to deal with the after-work crowd.
Jungkook paces around, looking at the tiles on the walls, or the concrete floor. He switches sides, gazing at the posters and graffiti that people have hung up. He laughs a little when an old woman and her dog pass by.
You try to calculate how far you have to dash upstairs to the street level to try and find a cab or rideshare. Knowing how busy it is downtown generally, you wonder how long you’d have to wait for a driver. Also, what money would you use to pay for the ride? Your subway card is fully stocked for the month. Would it be worth it to ask Jungkook to help you out with a ride? But then, would he end up sharing the ride with you? Would that really be so bad? He’d probably say more insipid nonsense, but at least you’d get that much closer to your foot soak. Maybe you could put your earbuds in and listen to some music so that you could just look at him instead of having to listen to him.
Before you can finish your calculations, you and Jungkook are fighting for space as you cram into the late train’s busiest car.
You get shoved toward the middle of the car, meaning that you’ll have to stand and grip one of the poles running from floor to ceiling, nothing for you to lean on when the train makes its sharp turns.
Jungkook, perhaps in an attempt to help you out, stands behind you, shielding you the best he can from all the bodies pressed up against one another in this, your second hellish nightmare of the day.
You scowl and try to pretend like he isn’t there. But it’s hard to pretend. His cologne is tickling your nostrils, and his body is contoured to yours. You can feel how tailored his suit is. You can feel every muscle. You can feel every part of him.
“You… uh… you OK?” he whispers.
You hate that you can hear him through the din in the car. You hate that his voice sounds so calm and reassuring. Why is he being so nice?
“I’m fine,” you stress, no longer feeling the need to hide your grit teeth.
“Just checking,” he whispers.
You sigh and look around. “I fucking hate this train,” you whisper back.
He laughs softly, and you bonk your forehead on the pole in annoyance.
The train shudders forward and starts to take one of those sharp turns. Jungkook’s left arm springs to life, having no choice but to wrap around your waist to be able to access the pole that you’re surrounding. His arm being there helps you stay upright. You’re begrudgingly thankful, as everyone not sitting down starts to bounce wildly, all of them roaring with complaints.
“I fucking hate people,” you whisper, letting yourself lean into Jungkook as the train rocks you around.
Jungkook hums, and you feel it vibrating in his stomach as strongly as the metal around you.
You hate that oncoming feeling of pinpricks behind your eyelids, and when the train goes through a tunnel, engulfing you in blackness for a moment, you squeeze those tears out and hope that blotting them with the hem of your coat sleeve back at the back of your hand keeps the damage to your makeup to a minimum.
“I fucking hate everything,” you finish.
Jungkook notices the way you’re gripping the pole. Knuckles white as the blinding light that you’re all washed in when the train exits the tunnel and ramps up, traveling above ground.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Jungkook whispers back. “This can’t have been a pleasant day for you.”
You glance backward, seeing his free arm dangling.
“No, it hasn’t been, and you’ve certainly made sure of that,” you snipe back.
Jungkook hums again. He wonders if you know that he can smell your perfume, too. If you know how well you actually carried yourself today. If you know what moves he’s trying to make.
“I wasn’t trying to ruin your day. And I wasn’t following you. But if I’m being honest, I’m glad that I met you today. And that I ran into you here. Now.”
You see his right arm starting to wrap around you.
His breath hits warm on the back of your neck.
You both look up at the crowd around you, scanning to see if anybody’s paying attention.
Nobody is.
“I know you were watching me at the coffee shop,” he whispers, right into your ear, as you both keep scanning furtively. “Just like I was watching you.”
You think about his eyes roaming your perimeter. Maybe he didn’t think you were so cookie-cutter after all.
“And, after watching you, I’m wondering if I can… help in a… different way?” he asks hopefully.
You hold your free arm against your body, a buffer between you and him. “And what way is that?” you ask, quietly.
“You didn’t like my coffee,” he says, “and you didn’t seem to like my train card—”
You growl.
He chuckles. “But maybe you’d… like my fingers?”
He heeds your warning buffer arm and places his hand on your right shoulder instead. He starts to massage you there, putting just the right amount of pressure in all the knots that have formed.
You close your eyes and inhale sharply, letting out your gigantic breath slowly as he works the tension away.
“Good?” he asks.
You have to give it to him. “Yeah,” you admit. “That’s, uh… yeah. It’s good.”
He watches as your neck leans further to the left. If he could nibble on the space you’re making for him, he would.
And when you let out an appreciative grunt at a particularly good rub, he nearly does.
“Where else do you want my fingers?” he asks.
You sigh and bite your lip.
His eyes glance around the subway car. Everyone’s too pulled into their own phones or books or newspapers to notice what you’re doing. Too lost in the grind.
“Maybe your back?” he whispers.
You nod slowly, taking in a sweeping glance of the rest of the train. Usually, you’re just like them, using your phone to move onto the next thing. Check for the next appointment. Scan for the next message. It’s interesting, being in the moment, even if you’re still technically in the whirl of the hustle.
He places his hand on your lower back, just above the back belt loop of your coat’s sash, and starts to work on the knot of flesh there.
Your knees nearly buckle, his fingers work so well.
You lean back into him, sighing softly as he works away more of that tension. That frustration.
“Glad you’re liking it,” he says gently, his lips grazing your earlobe.
You take in a breath and hold it, looking around quickly to see if anybody heard you.
“What about… where you seem to need it most?” Jungkook asks. There’s an edge to his voice. Jagged. Almost uncaring if you happen to get caught.
You turn back to him.
Your eyes meet and lock, and you’re surprised that he’d even have the thought. Not because the thought is surprising. You’ve definitely fantasized about this sort of thing before. Maybe not on the subway, per se, and especially not on your train, where you might run into people you know.
But you’ve fantasized about stopping in the middle of your day. Making everything come to a grinding halt. Allowing yourself just a moment of pleasure before you have to rush off.
You nod again, even slower.
He smiles and licks his lips.
But he doesn’t move until you raise your arm, making room for him to tighten his hold around you, and press you into the pole.
His hand searches for your sash. He pulls the long, free end and undoes the bow. He unbuttons the big, black, circles at your waist and hips. And then he presses his hand against the front of your skirt. Through your clothing, he dips his fingers into your flesh, wet and slippery, even with your layers of fabric soaking up some of your juices.
He grunts softly into your ear, and you push back into him, moving your hips in barely discernible circles against his mound. You feel him stirring awake, but his pants are thick. He won’t be able to come, but you’re getting closer and closer, feeling him sort out what is cotton and what is flesh, and honing in on your clit. Unable to stroke it the way he wants, the way he knows you want, he changes tact and flattens his palm. He lets you grind against it, pressing into you, letting you press back into him, both of you moving forward against the pole for more of that delightful pressure.
He works hard, evaporating the last of the frustration and hate. His watch clinks against the metal of the pole, and the train dives back underground. You know that you’ll be in darkness for a little bit. You take the chance, hugging the pole and even riding his arm a little, eager to squeeze out that delicious orgasm before light hits you again.
No one knows when you come.
No one except him.
**
You exit the train station and, red-faced, re-tie your coat even tighter than the last four times since you left the train car, wanting to make sure that you’ve hidden any evidence of what you’ve just done.
You stare at the ground as Jungkook tries to meet your eyes.
“Never had a train ride like that before,” he comments.
“Yeah, well…”
When you look up, he’s smirking.
You still want to tear your hair out.
“Thanks, I guess,” you say, a weird, confusing mix of emotions starting to layer themselves within you. “This was… interesting.”
Jungkook laughs. “Very.” He looks around your surroundings before looking back at you. “Can’t believe this is your stop, too.”
“One of them,” you admit. “I’m grabbing a few things from the store. I’m a few blocks up ahead.”
You gesture down the block, and Jungkook nods. “I’m that way,” he replies, pointing in the opposite direction. He smiles at you. “We’ll run into each other again.”
“Maybe,” you say.
Jungkook just smiles.
And then you part ways.
For the first time in a while, you get the itch to check your phone. When you reach into your purse and pull it out, you notice three missed calls from Jimin.
You stop in your tracks and call him back immediately. You feel the crowd around you continuing to move, your hair and your skirt ruffling in the breezes set in motion by their coming and going.
“Hello?” he asks.
“Hi, yes—” Someone knocks into you, and you take the cue to get off the sidewalk, moving toward your grocery store’s awning. “Is this Park Jimin? I interviewed today, just returning the calls I missed.”
“No worries. You mentioned the train, so I figured you just had bad reception,” Jimin responds. “Mind if you jump on video with me?”
“Sure, just let me—” You look around and find an alleyway to duck into. You check your hair and try to ignore how flustered you still feel before switching on the camera. You’re glad to see that even though you shed some tears, your eyeliner and mascara have stayed put.
Jimin’s pleasant face appears on your screen. “Great! Thanks for making this a video call. This won’t be quick. I just like seeing people’s expressions when I deliver the news.”
“What news?” you ask, that mix of confusing emotions evolving into more puzzlement.
“You’re hired!” Jimin cheers. “We’d absolutely love it if you could join our team as an account manager. I’m drawing up the paperwork as we speak, and I’ve got just a few questions—”
“What?!” you ask, shocked and still processing.
“Yeah,” Jimin laughs happily, “congratulations. You’re hired.” He smiles proudly at you. “Your resume is extremely strong, and I have been continuously impressed with how you’ve responded during our interviews. Jungkook felt the same.”
“Jungkook?” you ask.
And that’s when you notice a blue lanyard around Jimin’s neck, holding his work badge in place.
You think of Jungkook’s pocket.
“We both liked the way you responded to our stress interview questions,” Jimin replies. And then he blinks, suddenly realizing something. “Oh, right. I was so excited that I forgot.” He grins again. “Jungkook is another account manager, same as you. He and other teammates tag along on these interviews to mimic the stress.” Jimin laughs heartily. “God, he was trying so hard to pretend to be one of those difficult clients! He’s not usually like that.”
“He’s not?” you sputter. You whirl around, trying to catch Jungkook in the crowd. “He’s— I’m— He and I are— We’re—”
“Coworkers,” Jimin replies, “hopefully. If we can work out an acceptable contract. Sometimes the onboarding process can be a bit stressful.”
You laugh to yourself.
You place a hand on your coat’s sash.
And then you look at Jimin.
“I’m learning that there are plenty of ways to deal with stress,” you say, smiling into the camera.