The moving van appeared on Wonwoo's doorstep at 8am the next day, much to his displeasure. He glanced around his flat one last time, making sure he had all the important things he needed with him in his box. He'd left his flat keys with one of Joshua's PAs with the strict instructions to water his houseplants at least once a week. Obviously to maintain his cover, he couldn't bring anything of sentimentality, even though his hands did linger over the picture of him and his mum from his university graduation. Eventually though, he took down all the photos and posters, packing them into a box with his passport and driving licence. Someone from M17 would be around to collect it later. It was better to remove all traces of himself from the flat, just in case someone tried to link it to him.
As he opened the door, box in hand, to where the van was idling, he groaned inwardly. Mingyu was sitting in the driver's seat, his aviators sat proudly atop his head. Wonwoo resisted the urge to throw his box as Mingyu leaned over and popped the passenger side door open.
"Come on, Jeon. We don't have forever," he called out. Dragging his feet only slightly, he made his way to the van.
"Are you going to open the back for me," he asked, resting the box against the side of the van. It wasn't particularly heavy, but he was over the whole thing already.
Mingyu sighed, before getting out of the vehicle. "As you wish, sweetie," he smiled sarcastically, pulling open the back of the van. Wonwoo felt extremely watched as he put his box down. He had to shove some boxes out of the way to make enough space.
"Do you have enough shit?" he asked, slamming the door.
"It's not mine, dumbass," Mingyu smirked, leaning against the van. "They've provided us with all the stuff we need. Most of it is an Ikea flatpack they've just built. Now, get in before we're late."
"I'm driving," Wonwoo said, going to snatch the keys out of Mingyu's hand, but Mingyu grabbed them out of the way before he succeeded. "Give me the keys," he said. He knew full well he sounded like a petulant child, but that didn't stop him.
"You're not driving," Mingyu said in a singsong voice. "I remember your defensive driving skills from Basic. Besides, you've got a cracked rib."
"It's driving a moving van, Mingyu, not a fucking getaway car that's being shot at. I think I'll be okay," he argued.
"Get in the passenger seat," Mingyu said, crossing his arms. "Get in or I'll leave you behind."
Wonwoo mirrored Mingyu's stance, crossing his arms. He could stand here all day. He wasn't going to let Mingyu win.
"Fine," Mingyu said, throwing his hands up. Wonwoo smirked, the victory warm in his chest for a moment before he realised Mingyu was getting into the driver's seat. The engine choked, then turned over, the van rumbling to life.
"Good luck explaining to Joshua why you're quitting the mission," he shouted through the open window. Wonwoo stared at him, open-mouthed for a moment. The audacity of this man, he thought. He'd never met someone so arrogant. Despite his better judgment, he stalked over to the passenger side, climbed into the van, and slamming the door shut loudly.
"Good boy," Mingyu smirked. Wonwoo tried to ignore the way those two words sent heat pooling towards his stomach. Mingyu was not, nor would ever be, attractive in Wonwoo's eyes. The pain medicine was making him loopy. He crossed his arms, staring resolutely out the window. Mingyu fiddled with the music, changing the station a few times before settling on some Top-40s station. Wonwoo remained staring out the window until they reached the motorway, trying to ignore the gnaw of anxiety in his stomach. His rib hurt, and he wished he hadn't been so quick to rise to Mingyu's bait. If he'd been a little more in control he could've been on the sofa with some trashy reality TV on right now. He shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. A cold item crashed into his lap and he jumped slightly. Looking down, he realized it was an ice pack. Taking it, he turned to look at Mingyu, who was staring straight forward, his eyes fixed on the road.
"Thanks," he muttered, pushing the ice pack onto his rib. He hissed in relief at the cold.
"No worries," Mingyu said quietly. "Got a whole load of them, so just shout if you need more."
A thick silence settled over the two of them as Wonwoo shifted a little in his seat, the tinges of awkwardness growing, with just a generic pop beat punctuating the air.
"Does it hurt?" Mingyu asked, so quietly Wonwoo thought he misheard him. He stared at Mingyu for a moment, trying to process what the other man said.
"Oh, uh," he moved slightly, wincing again. "It's not great," he admitted.
"I'm sorry if you feel I forced you into this."
Wonwoo didn't reply for a moment, studying him carefully. Mingyu appeared to be calm at first glance, his eyes occasionally flicking between the road and the rearview mirror, but on further inspection, Wonwoo could see his jaw was set, his teeth clenched, and his hands wrapped around the steering wheel were going white from the force he was gripping it with.
Wonwoo swallowed, thinking of something to say. "It's fine," he shook his head. "This is bed rest anyway, and it beats sitting in the office and doing a shit ton of paperwork." He let out a humorless laugh he hoped would break the awkwardness, but if anything it seemed to make it worse. Mingyu frowned as he indicated to change lanes. Wonwoo stared out at the motorway for a moment, waiting for Mingyu to say something.
"I broke my leg on my first operation," Mingyu said, eventually. His voice was even and professional, lacking any emotion. Wonwoo turned again to look at him again, but Mingyu kept his eyes firmly on the road. "It was my fault. I was stupid and arrogant."
Not much has changed, Wonwoo thought but resisted saying it. He was quite proud of his maturity. "I didn't know," he said instead.
"It was before I was in Counterterrorism. I started in Cybersecurity after Basic."
"Oh," was all Wonwoo could say. He had gone straight into Counterterrorism, and, while he had managed to avoid Mingyu pretty well since Basic Training, he hadn't realized Mingyu had spent any time anywhere other than Counterterrorism.
"The operation was difficult. We were undercover for months, just chipping away at the network. It took forever for us to gain the trust of the target. He had all sorts of dark web shit going on in his company. Anyway, I broke into his server room after we uncovered some information about a possible trafficking situation. At the time it made perfect sense to me to do it. After all, I was the better spy between myself and my partner. At least that's what I naively thought." His voice had turned bitter. Wonwoo fiddled with his fingers, waiting for Mingyu to continue. "I got too cocky in the server room and I only checked for obvious traps. I didn't realize I'd triggered a silent alarm, and suddenly there were six guns pointed at me."
"Jesus," Wonwoo muttered.
"I jumped out the window, and, by some miracle, only broke my leg. My partner saved my ass and dragged me back to the safe house. I'd have probably died if it wasn't for him. It was a nasty break too, in four different places. I needed three different operations to get it fixed, and for a while, they thought I wouldn't be able to walk on it again. I was on desk duty for six months. My Operation Lead tried to get me fired for my arrogance, even though my partner claimed he'd gone into the server room with me. He also got kicked off the case. That's when I transferred to Counterterrorism."
"Sounds painful," Wonwoo said. He wasn't sure what else to say, or why Mingyu was telling him any of this.
"I know what it's like to take a calculated risk and have it not pay off," he shrugged. "So if you need ice or painkillers, or just to have ten minutes uninterrupted on the sofa, let me know."
"Thanks," Wonwoo said, picking at a hole in his jeans. He couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Don't mention it," Mingyu said, changing lanes again.
**
Are you fucking insane?" Mingyu shouted. Wonwoo slammed his hands down on the table in frustration, throwing the canvas picture onto the floor in the process.
"I'm sorry," Wonwoo yelled back. "I didn't realize you were the god of interior design."
"You're such a fucking child. I can't believe you just threw the picture on the floor." Mingyu bent down, picking the canvas picture back up again. "At least it's not fucking damaged. Now hang it over the fireplace."
"It would look better in the hall," Wonwoo countered, again, trying to grab the picture out of the other man's hand. Mingyu ignored him, stalking over to the fireplace. The anger in Wonwoo's chest bubbled, as he threw himself at Mingyu, attempting to wrestle the picture out of his hand.
"Give it to me," he gasped, straining in his effort to claim the canvas. He could feel Mingyu's muscles flexing and tensing below him as he tried to escape.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Mingyu yelped as Wonwoo clawed his arms. He fell to the floor, Wonwoo crashing down next to him. The impact of the floor on his body made Wonwoo gasp as pain shot through his ribs.
"Fuck," he moaned, falling flat on his back, his hand flying to his rib. He breathed heavily for a moment, trying to blink away the tears that sprung to his eyes. Beside him, Mingyu struggled to his feet, the picture still in hand. Ignoring the searing pain in his side, he rolled over, grabbing Mingyu's ankles with a firm grapple, sending the other man toppling again. Mingyu went down with a satisfying yelp, the picture skirting out of his fingertips.
"You child," Mingyu groaned. "Why would you do that?"
Wonwoo ignored him, scrambling to his feet the best he could while still winded. Every breath caused searing pain that he was trying to ignore.
"Get fucked, Wonwoo," Mingyu yelled before Wonwoo felt the wrap of Mingyu's body around his legs, and he tumbled to the ground again.
"I will hit you," Wonwoo yelled.
"I'd like to see you try," Mingyu yelled back.
Wonwoo stared at him for a moment, before launching back at him. He didn't care that they were just rolling on the floor now, the picture long forgotten. He needed to prove to Mingyu he was stronger than him, but within a fraction of a second, Mingyu managed to have Wonwoo pinned to the floor, his knee digging into the small of his back.
"Ouch, Jesus, get off Mingyu," Wonwoo gasped.
"Not until you say I'm right," Mingyu said, his mouth close enough to Wonwoo's ear that he could feel the warmth of the man's breath on his neck. He squirmed slightly, the pool of heat returning to his stomach.
The doorbell rang, making both of them jump. Mingyu immediately relinquished his hold on Wonwoo, giving the man an opportunity to roll away. Flat on his back, Wonwoo wiped his mouth, staring at Mingyu.
"Who is it?" he whispered.
"Does it look like I have fucking x-ray vision?" Mingyu hissed back, climbing to his feet. "Get off the floor."
"What are you going to do?"
Mingyu rolled his eyes. "I'm going to answer the door, you fucking moron." He brushed himself off, rescuing his aviators from where they'd dropped near the sofa in the scrap, and put them back on his head, pushing his black hair back under them. Wonwoo rolled onto his side, breathing heavily for a moment. It took all his might not to scream at Mingyu as he slowly got to his feet. As he got up, he realized Mingyu was already gone.
"Hi," he could hear Mingyu's voice drifting through the house, the tone of his voice making it easy for Wonwoo to picture the fake smile he'd slapped on. "Oh, thank you so much. That's so kind of you." Wonwoo crept forwards, trying to make out the other voice. "Yes, we just moved in this morning, my husband and I... Hang on... Wonwoo!" he called.
Resisting the urge to vomit, Wonwoo put on his best fake smile. "Yes, hon?" he called.
"Come meet... I'm so sorry, what did you say your name was? Jane! Come meet Jane!"
Wonwoo rounded the corner of the kitchen into the hallway, striding towards the door. Stood on the doorstep was a petite blonde woman, dressed in a gorgeous Alexander McQueen dress. In Mingyu's hand was a large fruit basket.
"Jane," Wonwoo said, holding his hand out, his smile so wide it made his cheeks hurt. "I'm Wonwoo. And you've already met my better half, Mingyu."
"Ah, Mingyu," Jane nodded. "I don't think I caught your name."
"I got too distracted by the gorgeous fruit basket she gave us, Won. Look." Mingyu held the basket out to Wonwoo much in the same fashion a small child would present a terrible drawing, or a cat would present a dead mouse. Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at Mingyu but took the basket anyway.
"Thank you so much," he smiled graciously to Jane.
"Well, I won't keep you from unpacking, but I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood."
Mingyu smiled. "Do you want to come in for a coffee? If you can forgive the mess, that is."
"Oh," Jane shook her head. "I wouldn't want to impose."
"Nonsense," Wonwoo said, opening the door wider. "We'd love to pick your brains about the area, right babe?" Mingyu raised an eyebrow but nodded.
"Oh, go on then," Jane smiled. "I can't stay for too long, school pickup, you know?" She walked into the house, sliding her shoes off, and followed Mingyu into the kitchen. "Do you two have any children?"
"No," Mingyu shook his head, putting the fruit basket down. Wonwoo busied himself with trying to find something resembling a mug and a coffee pot in the chaos of boxes. "Not yet." Wonwoo almost dropped the mug he'd found at that. He shook his head slightly. Stay on track, he reminded himself.
"You'll have to forgive the mismatched mugs and pot," he smiled, holding out a jumble of crockery that wouldn't look out of place at a charity shop. "We're a little all over the place today."
"Oh, don't worry about it," Jane smiled. "I understand the chaos of moving."
"Milk? Sugar?" Wonwoo asked.
"Black for me please," she smiled. Wonwoo turned back around, trying to find the coffee grounds. It took him a few minutes to get it all organized, and he realized with a jolt he'd zoned out of the conversation between Mingyu and Jane. With a slightly shaking hand, he poured out three mugs of coffee, before looking down at the one for Mingyu and realizing he had no idea how Mingyu took his coffee. He tried to think of any time he'd heard Mingyu's coffee order, or been aware of what it might have been, but he couldn't think of anything. Eventually, he settled on two sugars and a dash of milk - the way he took his. Turning back to the kitchen island, where Jane and Mingyu had both taken a seat, he handed them each their mug. The expression on Mingyu's face made it immediately evident to him he'd gotten Mingyu's coffee wrong.
"So what about you, Wonwoo?" Jane asked, smiling her thanks at the mug he'd passed to her.
"Oh, uh," he propped himself up on the island. "I'm a builder," he smiled.
"Oh, a builder!" she raised an eyebrow, before smiling again. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound rude or anything. You're just not what I'd expect from a builder."
"It's alright," Wonwoo smiled. "No one expects it. You should see some of the lads when I turn up on a job site with my painted nails."
"What are you working on right now?"
"I just had a pretty bad injury, so I'm signed off for the next few weeks."
"Oh, poor you! What did you do?"
"Cracked a rib," Wonwoo said, gently prodding his rib to demonstrate.
Jane looked horrified. "You poor thing. Listen, you two must come round for dinner tonight. It's not fair that you're having to unpack with a broken rib."
Mingyu and Wonwoo exchanged a glance, before Mingyu jumped in. "We'd love to. What can we bring? Wine?"
"Don't worry about it. Leon, my husband, is a bit of a wine snob, to be honest, so it's probably easier for you if you don't bring some," she laughed.
"We have to bring something," Wonwoo pressed. "Can I bring a salad at least?"
Jane looked at Wonwoo, before nodding. "That would be lovely." She gulped her coffee, before catching sight of her watch. "Oh dear, I better run. How does 6:30 sound? We're just next door."
"That would be wonderful," Mingyu smiled. "We're looking forward to it. I'll walk you out."
"Lovely to meet you," Wonwoo smiled, taking the mugs over to the sink. Mingyu's mug was untouched, bar the one small sip he'd had.
Jane stopped in the hallway. "That's such a lovely photo of the two of you," she remarked.
"Thank you," Mingyu said. "We were just trying to decide where to hang it when you arrived."
"Well, in my opinion, it should go above the fireplace. It seems like the most obvious place."
Wonwoo rolled his eyes.
**
"Right, let's go over it one more time," Mingyu said, pacing around the bedroom. Wonwoo watched with a degree of morbid curiosity as the other man chewed his lip so hard he drew blood.
"I know it all, Mingyu. Will you fucking relax?" He picked his hairbrush up, beginning to run it through his hair. He was enjoying that it seemed, for the first time, Mingyu was the one stressed, while Wonwoo was calm. Dinner parties were his jam. He'd made an incredible strawberry and kale salad with homemade dressing, and he knew exactly how to maintain a conversation on any topic.
"Where did we meet?" Mingyu quizzed him, snatching the hairbrush out of his hand.
"Jesus," Wonwoo muttered, going to grab it back but Mingyu held it out of his reach. "Fine. We met at a New Year's Party three years ago. You'd just moved to London and gotten your first job as," he furrowed his brow, trying to remember. "An investment analyst. We hit it off and got married eight months ago at Burrow Hall. We both had three groomsmen, your University friend got ordained, and at our wedding, we served chicken, fish, and a vegan option. Happy?"
"I don't remember reading that last bit," Mingyu said, relinquishing his hold on the hairbrush.
"Because I added it myself," Wonwoo said, resuming brushing his hair.
"Don't stray from the information in the file, dumbass."
Wonwoo rolled his eyes as he finished brushing his hair. "Are you always this uptight before operations?"
Mingyu shrugged. "This one feels like a lot."
Wonwoo ignored him, leaving the bedroom and heading down to the kitchen to collect his salad. He could head Mingyu behind him. "We've got everything covered, Mingyu. We'll be fine," he said, opening the fridge to get his salad and dressing out. He wasn't nervous at all. This operation was going to be the easiest one he'd ever done. He put the salad on the counter, giving the dressing a shake.
" Wonwoo." Mingyu's voice was much closer this time. Wonwoo rolled his eyes, slamming the dressing down on the counter with more force than he intended to, the sound deafeningly loud.
"What, Mingyu? We'll be fine," he said, turning around.
Mingyu stared at him for a moment, his eyes darting to Wonwoo's lips. Then, in a moment Wonwoo could only presume he was hallucinating, Mingyu leaned forward, gently placing his lips against Wonwoo's.
For a moment Wonwoo's mind short-circuited. Before it could catch up, he realized he was pushing Mingyu away from him, with more force than he intended to. He raised a shaking hand to his lips, touching them slightly, as though he'd be able to erase whatever the fuck just happened. Mingyu stared at him, his eyes unblinking, a mixture of confusion and anger on his face.
"What the fuck?" Wonwoo choked out.
"Just–" Mingyu wrung his hands for a moment before he settled. He took his aviators off, shaking his hair out, before pushing them back on. Wonwoo swallowed. A horrible thought crept into his mind. Did Mingyu keep his aviators on during sex? He couldn't shake the image of Mingyu tangled up in bed, his fingers twisted into dark, black hair. Mingyu's jaw set, his resolve steely again. "Thought we might need to be slightly affectionate to keep our cover. Evidently, that's too much for you."
And, oh. Wonwoo crashed his head against the cupboards. Of course, the kiss hadn't meant anything. It was just to practice for their cover. He tried to ignore the swoop of disappointment in his gut, choosing to investigate exactly where it was coming from at a later date, mostly likely late at night as he replayed the whole sorry scene. It made total sense, he argued. He'd been single for years, finding his job not conducive to maintaining any degree of work-life balance or relationship. His first physical contact with someone was going to make him feel a bit weird. He thought about it for a moment before confirming with himself; that it was just hatred he felt for Mingyu. Nothing else. And yet, as he stared at the other man with his black hair pushed back, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt.
"We're going to be late," he said, the words seeming foreign in his mouth. He wished he could just have five minutes alone to process what the fuck just happened, but they needed to go.
"Yeah," Mingyu said, quietly. Wonwoo couldn't bear to look him in the eye, busying himself with gathering the dressing for the salad. He could feel his face burning as he resolutely looked anywhere other than the general direction of Mingyu. By the time he finished putting the dressing on, he turned around to find the kitchen empty. Savouring the few seconds he had alone, he gently banged his head against the cupboard.
It was Joshua's fault, he reasoned. They should've discussed intimacy. Also, he argued, Mingyu should have not kissed him with no warning. If anything he was the only agent behaving the way agents should. He took solace in that, before heading to the front door. His arguments fell away when he caught sight of Mingyu, standing on the step by the open front door, cigarette in hand.
It must've been a trick of the light, as the golden hour crept in, illuminating his figure from behind. Wonwoo could see the other man's cheekbones, defined in a way he'd never really noticed before, and enunciated by the rhythmic sucking in and blowing out Mingyu was doing as he smoked. Again, the images rushed into his mind, Mingyu half hanging out of a dark window, blowing smoke into the night sky, wrapped in a sheet with his normally perfectly placed hair hanging wildly around his head like a halo. Wonwoo shook his head slightly. This was ridiculous, Mingyu was a grade-A asshole who loved nothing more than to lord over Wonwoo all the ways he was better than him. There was no way Wonwoo found him attractive. Even up until ten minutes ago, Wonwoo would've resolutely died to prove that point, but now, with heat pooling into his stomach, he was less sure. Swallowing around the disgust that rose at that thought, Wonwoo fixed an annoyed expression on his face.
"Are you quite finished with that?" he asked, gesturing to the cigarette. He made the mistake of watching as Mingyu brought the butt up to his mouth, his top lip turned up with a hint of arrogance.
"Calm down, babe," Mingyu smirked, blowing smoke over his shoulder. "I needed something to settle my nerves while you faffed around with the salad."
Wonwoo thought back to the image of hypothetical post-sex Mingyu. "You better not smoke in the house," he blurted out.
Mingyu raised an eyebrow. "I'm not smoking in the house right now. This is the garden."
"I mean in general."
"Whatever you say, baby cakes."
Wonwoo felt a blush creep on his cheeks, and he tried to disguise it by pulling a face. "Can you not with the pet names?"
"You started it," Mingyu countered, stubbing his cigarette out. "'Yes, hon?'" he said, in what was an honestly hurtful impression of Wonwoo earlier.
"What about you?" Wonwoo argued. "'Oh Jane, we're just desperate to have babies,'" he said, pulling a stupid expression and putting on a high-pitched voice.
"Firstly, I didn't say that, and secondly, I don't sound like that."
"Do to."
"Are you twelve?" Mingyu fixed him with a deeply unimpressed look. "Seriously, I've met children less petulant than you," he said, starting to walk down the garden path.
"Petulant. Big word for you," Wonwoo snarked, slamming the door shut behind them. Any feelings he was having towards Mingyu were evaporating rapidly.
"Need I remind you I did better than you on every single exam?"
Wonwoo could feel the anger rising in him again. "Will you ever let that fucking go? It was years ago, Mingyu, and," he added with a hiss. "Scores in Basic mean fuck all in the field."
Mingyu stopped walking and grabbed Wonwoo's arm. Wonwoo reflexively yanked his arm away but realised a second too late the touch had been gentle.
"I was just joking," he said.
"Yeah, well, I'm over your jokes," Wonwoo said, his face burning.
"Why does it bother you so much whenever I tease you about that shit?"
"Why do you care?" Wonwoo asked. "You've never given a shit about my feelings before."
"What the fuck, Wonwoo? I thought we were friends?"
Wonwoo scoffed. "Pull the other one, Mingyu. You and I will never be friends. Let's go, before we miss dinner all together." He marched away from Mingyu, leaving the other man to follow.
**
"The salad looks divine, Wonwoo. Thank you so much!" Jane said, welcoming them into the house. Not unlike their own place, the Spooner's house looked on the outside to be an unassuming thatched cottage, but unlike theirs, the inside was pristine. The floor was slick, white marble, so clean Wonwoo felt a little uncomfortable walking on it. The hallway had a grand sweeping staircase leading to the upper floor, with a crystal draped chandelier hanging in the centre. Wonwoo immediately felt underdressed and in awe. He followed Jane through to the kitchen, where he had to resist the urge to gape at the smooth black granite countertops, white wooden cupboards and drawers adorning the space.
"Wine?" Jane asked.
"Yes, please," Wonwoo said, letting Jane take the salad off him.
Mingyu just nodded, his surprise at the display of wealth clear on his face.
"White? Red? Rosé?"
"Oh," Wonwoo thought for a moment. "I'll do a red please."
"Same," Mingyu nodded, sidling up to Wonwoo.
Jane nodded, turning around and sliding open a panel. "Leon has a very extensive cellar, if you'd like to come pick out the vintage?"
Mingyu looked at Wonwoo, the panic clear on his face. Wonwoo had never really thought about it before, but he suddenly became very aware that Mingyu was not a wine man. He grabbed Mingyu's hand, squeezing it in a manner he hoped would calm the other man slightly.
"I'd love to," he smiled at Jane. "I know Mingyu'spreference as well. He's not nearly as fussy as me."
"Ah, you're like me, Mingyu," she smiled. "I'll drink anything as long as it's alcohol."
"Ha, yeah," Mingyu smiled weakly as he extracted his hand from Wonwoo's. Wonwoo nodded at him, before joining Jane on the steps to the cellar. The stairs themselves were old and wooden, probably part of the original house, but they'd had lights installed underneath them that spilled a warm gentle glow over the space. Wonwoo was unsurprised to see matching lights in the cellar, the bulbs not enough to quite dispel the shadows in the corners. He resisted the urge to whistle as he took in the space. The cellar was huge, and he could see from the rack closest to him that some of the alcohol had a vintage so old he could probably sell a bottle and pay the rent on his flat for a year with the profit.
"Reds are down this way," Jane said, leading Wonwoo down the right hand side. They passed a panelled glass room, the lighting of which was very different to the rest of the space. It was bright white, almost sterile. Wonwoo couldn't help but stop and peer at what was on the racks in there. The door was locked, with a keypad blinking red near his face.
"Admiring my collection?" a voice behind him said, making him jump. He turned around and found a man, dressed in a smart black suit, with his blonde hair scraped back, and Mingyu, standing next to him looking slightly mortified.
"Wonwoo is a bit of a wine connoisseur as well, darling," Jane said.
"Yeah," Wonwoo nodded. "I was just looking at this cabinet."
"You can have a look inside if you like?" Spooner offered. He lent over, typing in a code quickly. Wonwoo tried to follow the numbers he punched in, but Spooner's body blocked half the keypad. He glanced up at Mingyu, who nodded, very subtly. The keypad beeped and turned green, the door swinging open by itself. Spooner stepped inside, gesturing for Wonwoo to join. "This is where I keep the stuff that needs a little more protection," he grinned. Wonwoo looked around at the display cases. "This one is my favourite," Spooner continued, pointing to a bottle of red protected behind glass. "It's a 1944 vintage."
Wonwoo crouched down to look at the label. Although yellowed and peeling, he could make out that it was a Romanee Conti from 1944. "How much is it worth?" he asked.
"All wines from pre-1945 are worth an awful lot of money, especially if they've been stored in the right conditions with no chance of air getting into them. Do you know why that might be?"
Wonwoo could feel his mouth going dry as he racked his brains. He wanted to impress Spooner.
"It's because of the atomic bomb," Mingyu chimed in from outside the room. Wonwoo turned to stare at him. Spooner also seemed taken aback as he surveyed Mingyu. "I saw it in a documentary."
"Exactly," Spooner murmured. "Exactly right."
"Plutonium is naturally occurring in the air now because of the atomic bomb. Prior to that it wasn't present in the air. So wines corked before 1945 don't have any plutonium in them," Mingyu said, an obvious blush creeping over him.
"And you say you're not a wine connoisseur," Spooner said with a grin. "That's a bottle of Romanee Conti. Not only is it valuable because of the lack of Plutonium, the vines of the Romanee Conti were destroyed in 1945 by Phylloxera. This is one of only six hundred bottles in the world."
"Wow," Wonwoo whispered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the glass separating the bottle from him.
"Do you know why all the bottles in here are behind an additional layer of glass?" Spooner asked. Wonwoo shook his head. "It's a simple intruder alarm, really. With the push of a button, or the trip of an alarm, those air vents suck all of the air out of the room, meaning whoever is trying to steal my wine suffocates here, where I can see them. But the wine stays safe. See?"
Wonwoo could feel his heart pounding. He couldn't explain exactly why, but the way Spooner was talking to him made him think Spooner already viewed him as a threat. "Are there often wine heists then?" he joked, hoping to cut a bit of the tension. There was a long, pregnant pause. Wonwoo braced for Spooner to explode.
Quite unexpectedly, his face broke out into a large grin, and he laughed for a few moments. Mingyu awkwardly joined in, and Wonwoo chuckled too. "Wine heists," Spooner said, through his laughter. "I'd like to see someone try. Shall we pick wine for dinner?"
"We were just going to the reds," Jane supplied.
"Good man," Spooner said, clapping Wonwoo on the back. "Follow me."
Wonwoo glanced once more around the glass room, before following Spooner out the door and back into the main part of the cellar. Mingyu sidled up to him and fell in step beside him as they followed Spooner and Jane through the racks. Wonwoo could feel Mingyu mirroring his tension. If Spooner put that much effort into anti-theft methods for his wines, Wonwoo hated to think what they may be faced with trying to get information about his criminal behaviour.
"Mingyu," Spooner said, stopping with a smile. "Why don't you pick our wine?"
"Oh, uh," Mingyu stammered. Wonwoo's heart leapt into his throat. He scanned the bottles on the shelves behind them, his eyes falling on a 2018 Côte du Rhône.
Balancing the little information he knew about Spooner, he thought that bottle was probably a safe bet. "Wonwoo's more of a wine connoisseur than I am," Mingyu managed to get out.
"Nonsense," Spooner replied. "Pick a wine, Mingyu."
"I'm easy, honestly."
"Pick a wine." Spooner's eyes darkened, and Jane shifted uncomfortably next to him. Wonwoo watched as Mingyu swallowed deeply, then turned back to look at him, a panicked expression taking over his usually composed features. Wonwoo stepped forward, grabbing Mingyu's hand. It felt cold and clammy. Humming slightly, Mingyu stepped forwards, holding a finger out and ghosting it near the front of the wine bottles. When his finger reached the Côte du Rhône, Wonwoo squeezed his hand as subtly as he could.
"That one," Mingyu said, leaning forward slightly to read the label. "The cote de ruhonn," Mingyu butchered the pronunciation.
Wonwoo looked over at Spooner, whose face visibly softened. "Good choice, lad," he said, surging forward and grabbing the bottle.
Mingyu smiled weakly, before dropping Wonwoo's hand as soon as he could, without being totally obvious.
**
"Jane is lovely," Wonwoo slurred as they started down the driveway away from the Spooner's house. It took him a few goes to get his feet to walk in the right direction, his hand wrapped around Mingyu's
"Not much of a mob wife, is she?" Mingyu said, giggling. His face was flushed.
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at him. He'd watched as Mingyu impressively put away more wine than he thought was possible. They drank through the Côte du Rhône, moving quickly through a Pinot Noir, followed by a Merlot. Then, Spooner had poured them all a shot of Croatian spirit, claiming it was the best palate cleanser. When Wonwoo thought the man had finally run out, he pulled dessert wine Wonwoo was too far gone to even read the label of, followed by the four of them polishing off an entire bottle of port.
"I think we drank our combined yearly salary," he giggled as they turned onto the road. Mingyu chuckled again, before nuzzling into Wonwoo's shoulder. The feeling wasn't unpleasant at all, if anything, heat bloomed across his skin where Mingyu made contact. Mingyu was soft and giggly, in a way that made drunk Wonwoo want to scoop him up.
Mingyu pulled on Wonwoo's arm, poking him in the side. "Do they pay you the big bucks because you fuck up every mission," he hiccuped.
Wonwoo turned to glare at him, but the other man's face was soft. There was no malice behind the comment. Wonwoo hated the traitorous giggle that erupted from him, before he swiped Mingyu's aviators off his head, trying to shove them onto his own face.
"Do you waste your big dickhead salary on your stupid sunglasses? Seriously, Min, who wears sunglasses with a suit jacket?" He tried to push the sunglasses back onto Mingyu's face, but nearly speared him in the eye with one of the arms.
"Watch it, Mr Klutz," Mingyu laughed, taking the sunglasses off of him and putting them back on his head. "These are high fashion, I'll have you know. Make me look like James Bond." He stopped and posed in the street, his arms outstretched in a mock shooting stance. "James Bond, licence to kill," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "And this is the only pair I own. No pissing away money on aviators here."
"Pissing away money on being an asshole," Wonwoo muttered, mostly for his own satisfaction. He watched as Mingyu tried to reposition himself into another shooting stance, but almost tripped over the edge of the pavement. He caught Mingyu around the other man's waist, pulling him in slightly. "You're like Bambi when you've had a few drinks," he mumbled.
"Yeah, but like, ninja Bambi," Mingyu giggled into Wonwoo's hair. Wonwoo tried to ignore the way his heart began to pound in his chest, the way his hands shook ever so slightly. He couldn't shake the feeling of the other man's lips on his, and he wanted it again. "You're the best, Wonu," Mingyu mumbled, oblivious to Wonwoo's internal crisis. "Wonuuu the best. Hey," he stopped and pointed a finger into Wonwoo's chest. "The Best. That should totally be your code name."
Wonwoo pushed the gate open, helping Mingyu navigate through the entry. "What's your code name, then?" he asked as he dug in his pocket for his keys. He refused to look at Mingyu.
"Cool Glasses," Mingyu said, pointing at his head again. "Look at how fucking cool my sunglasses are."
"You know they're not a replacement for a personality, right?" There was a beat of silence as Wonwoo reeled from the fact that he actually said that out loud. Mingyu seemed totally oblivious, staggering into the house. Wonwoo swallowed before following Mingyu in, trying to keep his drunken mouth in check.
"We should drink some water," he said firmly, mostly to himself. Ignoring the other man, he headed towards the kitchen, carefully getting out two glasses. Only once the tap was running did he realise Mingyu had joined him.
"Yes, daddy," Mingyu smirked, draping himself over the counter next to Wonwoo.
Wonwoo jolted so hard he almost dropped the glass. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead as heat rushed to his stomach and his brain briefly short circuited, but the clearest thought he had above the chaos of every nerve in his body jumping to attention, was that Mingyu calling him daddy just sounded wrong. He put the glass down on the counter with a loud bang, the sound resounding in the silence.
"Don't call me that," he eventually croaked out, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
Mingyu didn't seem to hear him, distracted by the water glass. Wonwoo watched as he gulped down half the glass, and for a moment Wonwoo really felt like he must've done something horrible in a previous life to be in this situation. He could see the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed the water, a small dribble escaping out the side of his mouth. It took everything in Wonwoo's power to not lean over and lick the dribble away.
"I'm daddy," Mingyu mumbled into the glass, so quiet Wonwoo thought he must've misheard him. Even logically knowing there was no way Mingyu had said that, it didn't stop a fresh round of images flooding into Wonwoo's mind. This time, he was tangled up in the sheets, with Mingyu standing next to the bed, the mischievous look he sometimes had playing across his face, as he watched Wonwoo writhing in the sheets. Wonwoo knew he was begging for something, but he had no idea what he wanted.
He gripped the counter, hard trying to banish the images from his mind, and stave off the hard on he was starting to feel growing. "We are very drunk," he said to Mingyu. He finished off his glass of water, turning back to the sink to wash it up. Taking a moment, hands pressed against the cold ceramic sink, he took a shaky breath in. These images of Mingyu weren't helping anything. The water made him feel slightly more clear headed. "I can sleep on the sofa tonight," he said, not turning around yet.
"Why would you do that?"
He busied himself drying the cup and putting it away before he answered. The house, understandably for the sake of their cover, only had one bed. It was a tragedy that Wonwoo truly had tried to ignore, but now he had no option but to confront it. He didn't want to share a bed with his mortal enemy when they were hammered.
"Thought you might want your space," Wonwoo shrugged, trying to appear unbothered.
Mingyu pouted. "You're a bad fake husband."
"Fine," Wonwoo said, exasperated. "We'll share a bed. Just don't fucking throw up on me."
"Wouldn't dream of it, honey bear." Mingyu drained the rest of his water, unsteadily getting to his feet to go to the sink.
"I'm going to bed," Wonwoo said resolutely. He realised if he wanted to spend any time alone in bed, or at least have enough time to fake being asleep before Mingyu joined, he needed to do it now. He stumbled up the stairs as fast as he could, brushing his teeth and washing his face at record speed. He grabbed a ratty t-shirt out of the chest of drawers, and thought for a split second about whether he wanted to wear sweatpants, before grabbing those out too.
When Mingyu came into the room, Wonwoo was in bed, eyes closed, pretending to sleep. With his eyes closed the room around him seemed to spin. He snapped his eyes back open, staring at the ceiling. He ignored Mingyu as he clattered around getting ready for bed, but couldn't help but tense up slightly when he felt the bed dip next to him. Willing himself not to be sick, he rolled over onto his side, turning his back to Mingyu. He focused on his breathing. This is just an operation, he reminded himself. He could do this.
"Are you faking being asleep?" Mingyu whispered, loudly.
Wonwoo didn't reply, his heart pounding.
Mingyu didn't say anything for a few minutes. "Thanks for helping me pick the wine," he said eventually. "This mission is just, a lot for me. A lot is riding on this." He heard Mingyu let out a nervous giggle. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I know what people say about me though. I know people call me an arrogant asshole and a selfish twat."
Wonwoo screwed his eyes up tighter, focusing on evening out his breathing as much as he could.
"I'm bloody good at what I do though, and I won't apologise for that, even if I am sometimes a twat."
Wonwoo felt Mingyu flop beside him and shift around a bit. There was a suspiciously loud sniff next to him and Wonwoo felt his gut lurch. Mingyu was crying.
"I don't think you're a twat," he mumbled, quiet enough that he hoped Mingyu didn't quite hear him, or thought he'd imagined it. He held his breath for a few moments, but there was no reply.
He wrapped the duvet around himself slightly more and began to doze. As the waves of sleep threatened to pull him under, he thought he heard Mingyu say something.
"Night, love."