Work Text:
The live stages end with a roaring applause; someone switches to a melancholic playlist full of sad love songs.
Junhui notes the third IU song when Jeonghan finally appears with the drink he ordered over a quarter of an hour ago.
“Virgin cosmopolitan for my dear Junnie,” the bartender sing-songs and Junhui glares in return.
“You couldn’t have taken more time to make me a drink, could you?”
“But Junnie, we’re really busy tonight, I prepared your drink as soon as I was able,” Jeonghan pouts, obviously aiming to look as cute and as harmless as possible. If Junhui wasn’t used to the man’s manipulation tactics he would’ve fallen hard for a trick like this.
“You always have an excuse ready,” Junhui mutters while taking a sip of his mocktail.
“If you don’t believe me, I have a uniform put aside just for you,” Jeonghan smiles, leaning over the counter, “so you can see for yourself how exhausting a night at the club is,” his eyes crinkle as he pinches Junhui’s cheek like a loving grandparent, before turning around and strutting to the backroom.
Jeonghan acts too unserious for an owner of a bar always filled to the brim with wealthy and influential people of the country, at least in Junhui’s modest opinion. He’s brilliant but you wouldn’t know from simply observing him on the nights he’s bartending or hanging out with the performers.
He’s terrifying and he drains Junhui’s energy so much, especially on the nights he’s supposed to be working like tonight. Keyword supposed because Seokmin is nowhere to be seen, and without Seokmin’s notes from tonight’s recon Junhui has no reason to be working at the moment.
Still, he checks his phone just in case, and as expected, no new messages from his partner have been sent tonight.
Junhui sighs in defeat.
Work as a private detective, they said. It’ll be easy money if you find the right clientele, they said. Whoever that person is, they chose to omit how annoying collecting information through multiple people can get, Junhui thinks.
The main door opens and the breeze of pungent perfume scents and rich men passes through Junhui. Maybe Jeonghan was right, the place is indeed busy and full of people.
The noise seems to attract the aforementioned man and Jeonghan appears by the bar, leaning over to a group of men in tailored suits. Jeonghan loops a streak of hair around his ear and Junhui recognizes the man whispering something above Jeonghan’s nape as Choi Seungcheol.
Junhui groans internally. If there’s Choi Seungcheol hanging off Jeonghan around, that can only mean one thing.
An arm wraps around Junhui’s waist and a chin rests on his shoulder.
“Don’t tell me you’re working tonight.”
“Unlike you, some of us don’t visit this place with the plans of receiving a liver transplant eleven years in the future,” Junhui retorts lowly. He stares at the cold material under his hands, restless fingers tapping a beat against the tall glass.
The body wrapped around him straightens and sits on the barstool beside him, keeping the hand resting on his back.
“What happened?”
Junhui turns his head and doesn’t immediately turn his gaze back to the glass.
Kim Mingyu is an entrancing man—never looking worse than gorgeous, and tonight is no exception. Even sitting down, he takes a breath away in a bespoke pinstripe suit and metallic square glasses.
He’s so alluring and he never seems to know when to leave Junhui alone.
Junhui checks the man out one final time and returns the attention to his phone.
“Seokmin hasn’t showed up tonight after an important recon,” he admits, ignoring the hold tightening around his waist.
“How long have you been waiting here?”
Junhui waves a hand around. “About an hour, give it or take.”
“I can get someone to track his location.”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
He refuses to have Mingyu meddling in his business. Junhui glares at him and Mingyu tilts his head, no obvious emotions or thoughts betraying his across his features.
“Who was he tailing this time?”
Junhui clears his throat and takes another sip of the drink before him. Mingyu seems to have no intentions of looking anywhere but his face. “Please stop asking me such questions. I know you mean well but I can work on a case without your interference.”
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Mingyu starts, using his other arm to grab the drink out of Junhui’s hands and empty the glass.
Junhui decides to focus on the other man’s Adam’s apple rather than his distracting face. He cannot afford to lose the already leaking attention to a beauteous syndicate member.
“But, Seokmin is a fickle link in your business,” Mingyu finishes.
“If you stopped underestimating him, you’d realize he’s an excellent investigator,” Junhui notes.
“What are you two lovebirds fighting about?”
Jeonghan appears to be finally back to work, as until this very moment Junhui hasn’t noticed him moving away from Choi Seungcheol’s presence ever since the older man arrived. Streaks of the unruly hair have been tucked behind both of his ears, exposing a pair of glowing emerald earrings. The man couldn’t be more obvious with his gifts even if he tried.
Much ado about about nothing; so much about no distractions. Junhui exhales loudly and remembers the question Jeonghan threw at him and the clingy person in his vision.
“Mingyu lacks a severe level of respect for my partner,” Junhui summarizes their conversation in one sentence, and that seems to be enough for the bartender.
“Can’t stop acting like a jealous puppy, can you Mingyu?” Jeonghan grins at the man resting on Junhui’s back.
“He can be jealous all he wants, Seokmin is helping me pay the rent and my next visa extension,” Junhui says simply.
“Atta boy,” Jeonghan cheers.
Nothing brings joy to that man like involving himself in other people’s drama.
Someone yells across the room and Junhui recognizes the group of people Choi Seungcheol came with, the man nowhere to be seen. One of the men causing the ruckus points some kind of hand gesture at Mingyu.
“You’re not giving them your attention and they don’t like it, dearest Mingyu,” Jeonghan giggles, shuffling a few bottles.
Mingyu ignores Jeonghan’s remark. The warm hold slowly leaves Junhui’s torso and he senses a lingering peck pressed to the crown of his head.
Mingyu walks away with a quiet “I gotta go,”.
“Cute,” Jeonghan says, putting two different bottles of whiskey on the counter.
“Please stop talking,” Junhui murmurs.
He checks his phone once again for any notification and almost drops the device. He quickly unlocks it and reads the three just delivered messages.
Junhui sits up and drops a pile of crumpled won bills next to his empty cocktail glass. “Seokmin is awaiting me at our office. Don’t alert Mingyu that I left, please.”
“No promises,” Jeonghan grins as he uses his thumb to scratch the nose. He flickers his hair in the direction of the table where Mingyu and his men sit.
Junhui rolls his eyes at the man and turns around.
He has a case to solve.