Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Was drowning his sorrows in a seedy bar at the edge of town the best of ideas? No, probably not. Would his father be absolutely furious if he found out that he was drowning his sorrows in a seedy bar at the edge of town? Yes, absolutely. Did Joke care that his father would be furious if he found out he was drowning his sorrows in a seedy bar at the edge of town? Fuck no.

The business meeting had been…well, disastrous was the first word that sprang to mind. Joke’s father often dragged him to these things–board meetings, committee meetings, advisory meetings–so many meetings. Joke went to keep up appearances; as the eldest son of the Khonsgsuk family, it was expected of him to take over the family business, no matter how little interest he actually had in it. For years now, every meeting had played out the same: Joke would wai politely, make excruciatingly dull small talk about the weather or something else equally nauseating, and then sit across from his father and zone out entirely. It was a tried and tested experience, one that never changed.

Until, of course, today. Today, Joke’s father had called on him mid-meeting to speak to the figures the potential buyers had been discussing. Today, Joke had been particularly preoccupied with his daydream, envisioning himself jumping out the window and flying away on wax wings, like Icarus, only Joke wouldn’t let the sun get in the way of his freedom. Today, Joke had frozen when his father called on him. All he needed to do was read the brief in front of him; his brother had outlined everything for him, just like he did for every meeting, just in case this exact situation occurred. 

Top was the brains between the two of them. Top of his university class (no pun intended, just divine humour laughing in Joke’s face), captain of the swim and badminton team, and on track to graduate early. He was everything Joke wasn’t, but their father was a traditionalist, which meant that even though Top was the obvious choice to follow in their father’s footsteps, that honour fell to Joke. The eldest. The fuck up.

The idiot son who couldn’t even read the brief set in front of him. That’s what his father had said, anyway, after the buyers had vacated the room, their eyes darting between Joke and his father. The tension had been palpable, all the air sucked out of the room as soon as Joke stumbled over the first sentence. Something about high interest rates with even higher return, but he hadn’t been able to make out the rest. He had frozen, his face heating up with embarrassment as the silence grew louder, everyone waiting for him to just read the paper in front of him. It wasn’t hard, so why couldn’t he just do it? 

What kind of imbecile had his father raised? Why did Joke embarrass him like that, in front of their clients? Why couldn’t Joke be more like his brother? All things Joke had heard before, and no doubt would hear again. His father’s constant disappointment wasn’t anything new, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. Joke tried, truly he did, he just…struggled. When he was a kid, his parents had put him in speech therapy, scared that he would never speak properly because he had trouble learning new words. When he was a bit older, he got in trouble in school a lot for not completing assignments because he didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t read the instructions. When he was a teenager, he had actively avoided going to school, lying about his grades because what kind of 17 year old has trouble spelling his own family’s names?

It wasn’t his fault. Logically, he knew that. But it didn’t stop his parents, especially his father, from telling him it was. If Joke just tried harder, he could be the son his parents deserved. The son his father wanted. But no matter how hard he tried, the words slipped from his grasp every time, jumbled up and falling over each other on the page. Joke had worked hard to memorize important words–his name, his family’s names, the name of his father’s company. He asked the staff at restaurants for recommendations or the special when he went out to eat, instead of trying and failing to read the menu. When he went to his normal bar, he just had to ask for the usual, so he didn’t have to waste time pretending to read the drinks on offer.

Joke had worked so hard, had actually tried, just like his father was always asking him to, and it still hadn’t been enough. And so, Joke was at a bar that was as far away as he could get from his father’s company, staring at a list of drinks he couldn’t decipher, hoping that they had his usual on the menu.

“What can I get for you?”

Joke gave up on pretending to peruse the selection of drinks, setting the menu down on the bar. ‘Menu’ was generous–it was a handwritten list of drinks on what looked to be the back of a flyer. Surely though, they had whisky.

“Your most expensive scotch, on the rocks.” Joke spared a glance at the bartender, a boy who looked no older than twenty.

The bartender just stared at him blankly. See, this is why Joke had a usual bar, with a usual order. 

“Whisky. With ice.” 

A smile broke across the boy’s face as he nodded, understanding. “Coming right up, Phi!”

Joke watched as the boy grabbed a bottle from behind the bar, noting that it was not a brand he was familiar with. Whatever, drunk is drunk, it didn’t matter how he got there. Next came the ice, tiny chips instead of the usual spheres, dumped into a tall glass. So, this bar didn’t have lowball glasses. That was fine. The boy did pour a healthy amount of whisky into the glass, so really, Joke didn’t have much to complain about.

“A scotch on the rocks,” the bartender proclaimed proudly, setting the glass down in front of Joke.

Joke’s eyes flicked from the bartender to the glass and back again. “This isn’t…” He trailed off, the boy’s wide eyes and wider smile distracting him for a moment. He was cute, Joke had to admit. “Thank you,” Joke said, biting back an explanation of what a scotch on the rocks actually entailed. 

“I’ve never seen you here before,” the boy mused, leaning on the bar. “We don’t tend to get new customers here. You’re going to be the talk of the town for the next couple nights, Phi.” Joke looked over his shoulder, only now noticing the other patrons eyeing him curiously. 

“Happy to give you all something new to talk about.” Jack tipped his glass towards the boy, taking a sip that burned all the way down. It was whisky all right, but it burned like paint thinner. Joke held back a cough; he didn’t want to insult the bartender, not when he seemed so proud to give Joke what he ordered. 

“What brings you out this way, anyway?” This bartender liked to chat, it seemed. His face was open, curious in a naive way that piqued Joke’s interest. Like life hadn’t gotten her claws into him yet and turned him cynical and jaded.

“Who says I’m not from out this way?” Joke could be from around here. In fact, he wished he did live around here, instead of the prison-like penthouse apartment his parents paid for. The people around here were poor, sure, but they were free in a way Joke never would be.

The boy laughed lightly. “Phi, no one dressed like you is from out this way.”

The bartender had him there. Joke was still dressed in the tailored suit his mother had picked out for him that morning, the loose tie and open top button the only things out of place in the outfit. 

“I just…needed to escape for a while.”

“I get that. Responsibilities are hard, life is complicated.” The boy’s eyes got serious, the light in them dimming just a bit. Joke wanted that look off his face immediately; it didn’t suit him.

“What do you know about a complicated life? What are you, eighteen?”

The boy scoffed. “I am not eighteen! I’m twenty-five!” Twenty-five. Not so much of a boy, then. “And besides,” he continued, “age has nothing to do with it. I know plenty of people who have had complicated lives who are much younger than me.”

Joke nodded. “Fair point.” 

He eyed the boy–no, man–standing in front of him. His top was faded black, stretched out in places that didn’t make sense for his body proportions. Second-hand, then. His hair fell over his forehead, and was long around the ears and neck. He clearly wasn’t getting monthly haircuts like Joke and his brother did. His fingers looked callused where they traced shapes in the condensation left behind on the bartop. He was accustomed to hard work; perhaps this job was cushy by his standards. He was young, but he knew hard work and hardship. Other men would have let them harden themselves, too, but not this one. His eyes…his eyes were kind. Trusting. On a different night, at a different bar, Joke could get lost in eyes like that.

“What’s your name?” The question left Joke’s mouth before he even realized he wanted to ask it.

The bartender looked surprised, but recovered quickly enough. “Jack.” No surname was given, and Joke didn’t ask for one. “What’s yours? Or should I just keep calling you Phi?” 

Joke wanted to laugh. He could only imagine his father’s horror at some random man working behind a bar calling him ‘Phi’ instead of ‘Khun.’ 

“Joke.” No surname either; he didn’t want Jack tracing him back to his family. He wanted to just be Joke tonight, not the Khonsgsuk family embarrassment. 

“Nice to meet you, P’Joke.” Jack said it like he meant it, offering his hand to Joke to shake.

“You too, Jack,” Joke said, shaking Jack’s hand, feeling the calluses he had spied earlier. “Pour yourself a drink, stay awhile.” Joke patted the barstool next to him, sincerely hoping Jack would take him up on his offer.

Jack looked around like he might get in trouble. “I’m not supposed to drink on the clock…” He bit his lip, looking nervous for a split second before his smile was back. “But, I’m starting a new job tomorrow, so why not?” Jack poured himself the same drink as Joke, only flinching a little when the first sip hit his throat.

A new job tomorrow. So, if Joke came back, Jack wouldn’t be here. Not that he had been thinking about coming back of course, that would be stupid. Foolhardy, as his father would say. Definitely no thoughts of seeing this man again running through Joke’s head, no sir.

Joke cleared his throat and banished all thoughts of seeing Jack again from his mind. “Cheers to your new job!” They clinked glasses, tossing back another mouthful of the bitter alcohol.

“Do you actually like this stuff?” Jack coughed, wiping his mouth. 

Joke chuckled, a low buzz starting. “This stuff? Not really, no. A scotch on the rocks? Yes, I do.”

Jack blinked at him, an embarrassed smile on his lips. How many smiles did he have? Joke wanted to uncover all of them. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I think your tastes might be a bit too fancy for me, Phi.”

“I’ll just have to teach you about the finer things in life,” Joke sighed dramatically. Like this night of slumming it wasn’t the best night he had had in…god knows how long.

Jack laughed, leaning in conspiratorially. “Or maybe,” he whispered, like they were sharing a secret, “I’ll have to teach you how to loosen up.” He stayed there, leaning into Joke’s space with mischief in his eyes. Was this flirting? It felt like flirting…was Jack flirting with him? Two could play at that game.

“Since we’re in your neck of the woods tonight, Nong, sure. Why don’t you teach me how to ‘loosen up?’” Joke licked his lips and watched as Jack’s eyes followed the movement.

This was exactly what Joke wanted—a distraction. The distraction being a cute boy was an added bonus.

Chapter Text

Joke groaned at the wave of dizziness that washed over him. He didn’t know what time it was, but he had sat drinking with Jack until the rest of the patrons had left, and Jack had had to call last-call. Perhaps getting the only bartender on duty drunk hadn’t been the best idea, but hey, Joke wasn’t known for making good decisions.

He had been loath to leave, but if he wasn’t back in his apartment by the time Top came around in the morning to drag him out of bed and to the office… Well, he didn’t even want to think about the repercussions. Joke had wished Jack good luck with his new job, thanked him for helping Joke forget about the awful day he had had, and then bade him goodnight. Jack had seen him off with another one of those smiles, and Joke had pointedly ignored the twisty thing his stomach had done.

They hadn’t even kissed. Joke wasn’t sure if that should be considered a new record for him or a new low. Typically, a night like that would have ended with at least a makeout session, if not a quick handjob in a bathroom stall. The bar he normally frequented was not a place that encouraged regular visitors, so there was always someone new for him to… meet. The fact that Joke’s father owned the bar didn’t matter; what mattered was that the bartenders were discreet, and the bouncers paid enough to not care who Joke’s family was. 

Tonight though. Tonight had been different. Joke and Jack had just talked. Literally, just talked for hours. Joke told him things he had never said to anyone before—not that he had anyone he could talk to about them. He didn’t really have friends, just rich acquaintances who cozied up to him because of his father. He had Top, he supposed, but that was different. Top was Joke’s brother, he had to put up with Joke, and besides, Joke didn’t want to burden him with his issues. Top had enough on his plate, what with his studies and extra-curriculars. He didn’t need Joke, his useless older brother, adding onto all that.

Jack had listened. It was rare for Joke to have someone actually listen to him, but Jack hadn’t seemed to mind. He listened to Joke talk about his childhood, what he had wanted to be when he grew up, going to school outside the country, and being alone for the first time. Joke had spared him the gory details of his family life; some things should remain a secret. In return, Jack had talked at length about his grandma and how she had raised him after his parents died, and the neighbourhood kids they had taken in at one time or another. It could have been sad, but the way Jack told it, it was anything but. He painted a picture of love and community, one that Joke struggled to understand; his family was full of competition, disappointment, and loneliness.

There had been absolutely no kissing, and it was still one of the best nights Joke had ever had. No kissing, but definitely flirting. Probably flirting. Joke thought Jack was flirting with him, anyway. Maybe it was accidental? Maybe Joke was losing his touch, but he was pretty sure Jack had at least thought about kissing him. Maybe next time they would get to kissing. Not that there would be a next time, because Jack was starting a new job tomorrow—today?—and hadn’t given Joke his number. Joke hadn’t asked for it, but in his defense, he wasn’t used to having to ask for people’s numbers. Usually, he was the one turning down the numbers offered to him.

Joke stumbled down the alley, lamenting his poor choices and big ego, when frantic footsteps caught his attention. He listened as they got closer, cursing himself for letting his phone die. He was drunk and alone in an unfamiliar part of town, and he looked it, too. He took a deep breath, bracing himself before turning around to face what he could only assume was a mugger.

Instead, Joke turned and saw a girl running at him like her life depended on it with three men chasing close behind.

“Please, help me!” The girl caught him by the shoulders, the two of them stumbling into the wall of the building next to them. Joke’s arm came around her waist, steadying her. He spared a glance behind her, watching the men slow down as they got closer, twisted grins on their faces. Fantastic. “They’ve been following me for the last three blocks,” the girl explained, breathless, her eyes wide with fear.

Joke was far too intoxicated for this. He eyed the three men, sizing them up. They were all much bigger than him, and he had no doubt they could fight. His father had put him and Top in self-defence classes as a precaution, and Joke could hold his own in a fight well enough, but against three large, possibly armed men? He didn’t particularly like his chances. 

Joke pushed the girl behind him, putting himself between her and the men who had now caught up to them. “Three of you against one of her? Are you that pathetic?” Joke winced internally. The alcohol was doing the talking for him, clearly.

“Now there’s three of us against two of you,” the closest man sneered. “Evens the odds a bit, wouldn’t you say?” He took a swig of beer from the bottle he was holding.

The largest one of the group piped up, his eyes roving up and down Joke’s body, “We’re not picky about what we get. A pretty boy like you? We won’t complain.”

A shiver ran down Joke’s spine. This was not looking promising. He should have just run, but this poor girl had a vice grip on his arm, and he couldn’t just leave her behind.

“Get back,” Joke murmured to the girl, pushing her behind him. The air felt heavy with tension, like each side was waiting for the other to make the first move.

The trio laughed, the sound grating and loud in the silence of the night. “Oh, do you think you’re going to protect her? You? Some rich kid stuck on the wrong side of town? I don’t think so.” 

Joke curled his hands into fists, squaring up.

“Why don’t you do yourself a favour and just give in, sweetheart. It’ll be so much easier on you. We promise we won’t bite—much.”

Joke heard the sound of more footsteps coming their way. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the men in front of him, trying to force his inebriated brain to come up with literally any solution that didn’t involve trying to take three—maybe four—men on alone.

“Why don’t we make this more fair?”

Joke’s head snapped towards the new voice, recognizing it instantly—Jack.

He sauntered down the alley towards them, rolling up his sleeves. “What do you say, can I join in too?”

There was a hardness glinting in his eyes that Joke didn’t recognize, all softness from earlier gone. He was holding himself confidently, seeming even taller than he already was.

The other three didn’t seem concerned, laughing to themselves at Jack’s proposal. 

“The more the merrier,” the largest one acquiesced, cracking his knuckles.

“Great,” Jack breathed out, never breaking his stride as he brought his fist back and up before cracking it across the big one’s face. There was a beat of shocked silence as the man staggered, falling to his knees under the blow. Then, all hell broke loose.

Joke’s ribs smarted, his face felt tender in a few places, and his knuckles ached. The thugs had gotten a few good punches in, but to Joke’s eternal surprise, he and Jack had held their own. They had made a good team, managing to knock the other men to the ground, where they laid unmoving. Joke made sure they were still breathing, at the very least. He didn’t need manslaughter on his conscience, no matter how vile the victims were.

“Phi, are you okay?” Jack pulled a handkerchief—who still used handkerchiefs?—out of his pocket, dabbing at Joke’s face. Joke could feel blood trickling from his nose, but it didn’t feel broken, thank god. He didn’t know how he would have explained that to his father.

“I’m fine,” Joke assured him, checking Jack over for any obvious injuries. He wanted to ask a thousand questions—where had Jack learned to fight like that? Why was he here, how did he find them? Had he been looking for Joke, or was it merely a coincidence?

Jack had fought with a precision and barely restrained fury that spoke to intense training and a deep sense of injustice. Joke wondered if perhaps this wasn’t the first fight like this Jack had been in.

“Here, hold this to the cut. It should stop bleeding soon.”

“What are you doing here?” Joke asked as Jack turned his attention to the girl who now sat huddled against the wall, clutching her purse to her chest.

Jack helped the girl to her feet, wrapping an arm around her to keep her steady. “This is my way home.”

So, he hadn’t been out looking for Joke. It was a coincidence, and Joke was fine with that. Totally fine with that. “Lucky us, then.” 

“Maybe I’m the lucky one,” Jack joked, sending a teasing smile Joke’s way. Joke answered it with his own smile, one that he hoped didn’t look as dopey as it felt. “Let’s go before they come to their senses.”

Joke nodded, jealousy churning in his stomach at the way the girl leaned into Jack’s touch. He bent to pick up the beer bottle, somehow not broken in the scuffle. “Wasted on cheap beer, ganging up on a girl in the middle of the night… such upstanding citizens.”

Jack laughed, the sound loud in the relative silence surrounding them. 

Joke smiled, thrilled at having drawn that sound out of Jack. He wanted to hear it again. A scuffle distracted him, almost lost beneath the echo of Jack’s laughter. Joke turned just in time to see the smaller one, the one who had kept quiet during their earlier exchange, charging at them with a knife in his hand.

Before Joke could react, he felt the beer bottle get ripped from his hand and saw it shatter as it was brought down on the man’s head. Joke spun around as the man fell, limp as a puppet with its strings cut, his body hitting the concrete with a dull thud .

Jack stood there breathing heavily, his hand shaking where it still held the neck of the broken bottle. “Phi, are you okay?” 

“Jack—”

“Nobody move!” The shout came from the mouth of the alley, and Joke’s blood froze when he saw the police uniforms. Oh shit. 

“No,” Jack whispered, panic in his voice. Joke looked up at him, realizing again just how young Jack looked. He had a future ahead of him, a new job he was supposed to start today, a fresh start. Joke couldn’t let him lose that chance.

Joke took a deep, steadying breath, his mind made up. “Jack, go. Get out of here.” He grabbed the broken bottle from Jack’s hand, hissing as the jagged edge cut into his palm.

“Not without you, are you crazy?” Jack’s eyes were wide with fear for the first time that night, and the sight made Joke’s stomach flip. The police were rushing at them, guns raised. They were running out of time.

“Just go, I’ll handle this.” Joke shoved at Jack’s chest, pushing him further down the alley. “I’ve got this, go! Take her with you!” The girl tugged at Jack’s arm, which seemed to spur him into motion. 

Jack only hesitated for one more second. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and then he was running, dragging the girl with him.

The police were on him now, surveying the area and checking the men who were still unconscious on the ground. Satisfied that the men were alive, one officer stood, eyeing Jack’s retreating form. Joke’s heart leapt into his throat—he couldn’t let them get to Jack. He dropped the broken bottle, the sound pulling the attention back to him. The officers rounded on him, crowding him as he raised his hands in the air.

“Where is he going?” an officer demanded, gesturing in the direction Jack had run off in.

“I don’t know,” Joke answered, which only served to make the officer shove him up against the wall. “I don’t know! He’s no one! Just a guy who happened to be walking by. I’m the one you want.”

Joke could see the wheels in the officer's heads turning. On the one hand, they could be letting a criminal get away, which could get them in trouble with their superiors. On the other, they had a perfectly good suspect in the palm of their hands, and a rich one at that. Joke’s fate was sealed. 

“You’re under arrest for assault with a weapon,” the officer declared, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

The only acknowledgment Joke gave was presenting his hands for the officer to cuff. There was no point in struggling or trying to talk his way out of this, not now; he was well and truly fucked. At least Jack was safe, thank god. Whatever else happened, whatever consequence Joke faced, at least he had the knowledge that Jack would be okay. 

Fuck. His father was going to be furious.

Chapter Text

The shrill sound of his phone ringing had woken Joke up far too early, his stomach dropping when he saw his father’s name on the caller ID.

“I expect you to be at the office at nine o’clock sharp.” 

“The office? Are you… I mean, is that a good idea?” Joke’s stomach turned at the idea of being back in that building.

His father’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. “You will be there, and you will be presentable. I won’t hear any arguments from you, boy. It’s high time you got back into the swing of things.” The swing of things. Like Joke had been away on a short vacation instead of wasting away in a gilded prison. What was he supposed to do, just show up and pretend nothing had happened? The scar on his palm tingled, a reminder of everything that had happened, despite his father’s best attempts at sweeping it under the rug.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, sir, I just—”

“Nine o’clock. I’ll send someone to pick you up.” The line clicked and went dead.

Joke sighed and dropped his phone on the bed, letting it bounce onto the floor as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. He wasn’t ready for this. He had had a year to prepare, and it hadn’t been long enough. 

He had been right of course; his father was furious. Joke had used his one phone call to call Top—he should have known their father would catch wind of the incident anyway. Seeing him in the police station, face blank with fury… Joke almost wished for jail time, just so he didn’t have to deal with his father’s anger.

Of course, Joke hadn’t been thrown in jail after his arrest, what with his father’s money greasing the waiting palms of the local police station, but that just meant that he was able to concoct his own kind of punishment for Joke: a year in what could only be described as solitary confinement. 

A year of sitting around what used to be their vacation home in the countryside with no one but a housekeeper to keep him company. He couldn’t have left, even if he wanted to. He had nowhere to go, for starters; his father had made sure of that. His cards had been frozen, his phone taken away, and anyone who might have wondered where he had gone was told that he was studying abroad for the year. But it was okay because his father had made sure Joke had plenty of entertainment to keep him from losing his mind.

Joke had laughed when he saw them, all recently purchased, some still in their packaging—shelves and shelves of books. There were business and self-help novels, biographies of famous businessmen who had gotten to where they were through hard work and pulling themselves up by their bootstraps, and the odd political science textbook. A small part of Joke hoped his father thought they’d be motivational, but a larger part of him suspected he had done it to be cruel.

In a fit of boredom about three months in, Joke had caved. He grabbed the thinnest book in the bunch and sat in his room trying to decipher it until he had ended up in frustrated tears, the book thrown across the room. Even with his father miles away, he could hear his disappointed voice. What did I do in my past life to deserve an idiot for a son? Why can’t you be like your brother, he never disappoints me. Joke didn’t touch any of the books after that, and he spitefully hoped his father somehow knew that he had wasted his time and money on them.

What Joke wanted more than anything was to reach out to Jack. Maybe it was the isolation, but Joke spent much of his time replaying their conversation, trying to remember the exact shape of Jack’s smile and the way his laugh sounded.

He knew it was crazy, to dwell on something so insignificant, but it didn’t feel insignificant, not to him. Joke wondered if Jack was still in his new job, if he was liking it. He wondered if Jack thought about him as much as Joke thought about Jack. 

Joke had tried to find him before he was sent away. The morning his father announced his punishment, Joke had run to the alley and walked up and down it, peeking his head into shops and open front doors, hoping to get a glimpse of Jack. He wanted to say goodbye, to explain that he had to go away for a while, but that he’d be back. Most importantly, he wanted to say thank you.

In a fit of foolish hopefulness, Joke had told Top everything—well, mostly everything—that had happened that night. 

“This is the bar he was working at. Please, see if you can find out where he lives from someone there,” Joke had pleaded, thrusting the small notebook into Top’s hands. “Give him this, tell him I’m sorry. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll find him, Phi,” Top had promised, and Joke never doubted him. If anyone could succeed at this, it was Top.

Joke had painstakingly written a note of thanks and a quick explanation in the notebook to give to Jack. He had included the address of the house he would be staying at, in case Jack wanted to get in touch with letters, which sounded cheesy and romantic and absolutely perfect. Even if it took Joke all day to read Jack’s letter and another one to craft his reply, at least they could communicate until Joke came back.

Every day, even Sundays, Joke checked the mailbox at the front of the house, and every day it remained empty. Joke didn’t know why he kept checking after the first few months, but it became a routine in the monotony, and against his better judgment, he was hopeful.

A year to the day of his arrest later, Joke’s father showed up at the door to take him home. There had been no word from Top, and no word from Jack, the whole year. Joke knew it was a long shot, but he hoped that maybe, just this once, fate would be kind to him.

On the way back to the city, his father debriefed him on everything he had missed, while Joke tried not to zone out entirely. Business deals, new developments, Top’s studies, old rivalries flaring up—Joke tried to digest them all, but his mind kept drifting to Jack and the letters he shouldn’t have expected but had hoped for.

Joke was dropped off at his apartment building to no fanfare, no welcome home committee, and watched his father drive away without another word. His apartment was exactly how he had left it, his cellphone and wallet sitting on the coffee table were the only signs that someone had been there while he was gone. He guessed his punishment was officially over.

He was left alone for a week, during which time he binged all the dramas he had missed out on over the year, caught up on all the music his favourite bands had released, and tried not to think about Jack. He went back to his gym, his favourite cafe, had lunch in the park down the street, and mostly succeeded in not thinking about Jack. Getting back into his routine felt freeing, and Joke could have lived like that happily, but reality always had a way of crashing down on him.

The ride to the office felt like an eternity and a second, all at once. As usual, it was silent, the driver his father sent stoic and icy. Every driver was the same; Joke wondered if they all went to the same training centre to ensure they were as unmoving as their boss.

He had donned his favourite suit and styled his hair in a way he hoped his father wouldn’t comment on. He had let his hair grow out a bit during his stay in the countryside, and he hadn’t bothered to cut it when he returned home. By the time they pulled up to the office building, Joke’s tie felt like it was strangling him. He wasn’t ready for this, but when was he ever?

“Thanks for the riveting conversation,” he muttered to the driver, who promptly ignored him as he got out of the car.

Joke debated climbing the stairs to the office, just to give himself more time, but he didn’t want to incur his father’s wrath on his first day back. When the elevator doors opened, he was struck with a massive sense of deja vu. The paintings on the wall, the receptionist behind the desk, the chemical smell of carpet cleaner—they were all the same, like he had never left.

The boardroom was at the back of the office, a massive wall of glass separating it from the rest of the space. Joke’s heart leapt when he saw Top sitting at the boardroom table, and he picked up his pace. His brother looked good, healthy, and Joke felt a twinge of hurt, remembering the silence from Top over the past year. 

Joke entered the room and watched as Top looked up and saw him, a smile breaking out on his face. 

“Phi! You’re back!” Top stood and rushed over to Joke, pulling him into a hug. “I missed you,” he whispered into the hug, squeezing just a little bit tighter.

Joke hesitated before wrapping his arms around Top in return. “I’m back.” He blinked back the tears that pricked in his eyes, blaming the year alone for his emotional reaction to a simple hug.

“Did you get P’Jack’s letters?” 

Joke went rigid in Top’s arms. He pulled back, looking up at his brother. “What?”

Top nodded, a proud smile on his face. “I found him! I gave him the notebook, just like you wanted. He promised he’d write, you got them right?”

Joke stood there, trying and failing to take in this information. Top had found Jack. Top had given him the notebook. Jack had read it. Jack had read it, had told Top he would write, and then just… didn’t.

He had a million questions, but before he could ask them, their father stormed into the room, his assistant, Save, right behind him. They were followed by a third man, one Joke didn’t recognize. Another assistant, maybe? Joke hoped that Save had finally realized he was far too nice to be working for someone like Joke’s father. The man, dressed in all black, eyes sharp, stood in the corner of the room, hands folded in front of him.

“Sit.” Their father’s voice made Joke flinch, and he didn’t miss the matching wince on Top’s face. They both hurried to take their seats. “As you know,” their father continued, “the threats against the company have escalated in the past two weeks.” 

Threats? What threats? Joke wracked his brain, thinking back to the drive back from solitary. He vaguely remembered his father telling him about some letters that had been sent to the office, but he hadn’t paid much attention after that. 

“This increased risk means that there will be heightened security measures put in place for all high-level clearance employees.”

Joke glanced at Top, seeing a look of confusion on his face that likely mirrored his own.

Joke cleared his throat, drawing his father’s attention. “Sorry, sir, but… high-level clearance?”

His father looked at him, blinking like he couldn’t understand why he had been interrupted. “Yes. Me, obviously, and you and your brother.” 

“So, the family?” Top clarified, frowning.

Their father waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever you wish to call it, the fact remains the same. We are taking these threats very seriously, so you will both have bodyguards assigned to you full-time until the threat is… neutralized.”

Joke’s stomach dropped. Bodyguards? Full-time? It wasn’t bad enough to be scrutinized every time he was forced to come into the office, now he would have someone watching his every move, no doubt reporting everything they saw to his father? Any semblance of freedom Joke clung to was vanishing before his eyes.

“Por—”

Before Joke could get any protest out, the door opened, and two more men filed in, standing against the glass. Joke didn’t deign to look at them, focused as he was on his father and the collar he was tightening on Joke’s life. He had seen bodyguards before, they were all the same—tall, strong, dressed all in black, and puppets to their employers. He didn’t expect these ones to be any different.

“They will be with you when you’re not at the office, and when you are, they will remain close by. I will not hear any argument on the matter,” Joke’s father stated, rising from his chair. “I will leave you to get acquainted. And I expect you”—he leveled Joke with a withering look—“to behave.” He nodded at the men before sweeping from the room, Save and the man in the corner—his bodyguard, Joke pieced together—following close behind.

Top sighed, putting his head in his hands. “This is going to make school so much harder.”

Joke felt a pang of sympathy for his younger brother. At least he only had to worry about his bodyguard interfering with his limited social life—poor Top would have to try and navigate school and all his extracurriculars with his bodyguard attached at the hip.

“I’m sorry, Top.” Joke didn’t know what he was apologizing for, exactly, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s fine.” Top straightened up with a small smile, and Joke recognized the mask as it settled into place on his brother’s face. Joke watched as one of the men walked over to Top and introduced himself as Tattoo.

Top continued smiling that small, fake smile and wai’d politely. “I have class, Phi,” he said apologetically. “I’ll text you, okay?” He stood and made his way to the door, Tattoo following close behind.  

Well, just because his father was forcing this on him didn’t mean he had to be nice about it. Logically, he knew it wasn’t this man’s fault that his life would be even less his own than it already was, but it’s not like Joke could take out his frustration on his father. 

He got up and walked to the door, not bothering to look at or greet the man who stood waiting for him. “Let’s go,” Joke snapped, wrenching the door open. 

“Yes, Khun.”

Joke froze, hand still on the door handle. That was—there was no way. That voice couldn’t belong to… Joke turned, finally looking the man, his new bodyguard, in the face.

“Jack.” 

Chapter Text

“Jack.” Holy shit. It was Jack. His hairstyle was different, and he was carrying himself like he was trying not to take up any space in the room, but it was Jack. Right in front of him, finally within reach.

Joke waited for Jack to react, to recognize him. Suddenly, the year of silence didn’t matter to Joke anymore, not when he had the real thing right in front of him.

“I’ve been given instructions to see you back to your apartment, Khun.” Jack’s voice was flat, void of emotion, as he stared over Joke’s head. A shiver of apprehension ran down Joke’s spine.

“Khun…? Jack, what—”

“We’ll go over the protocols and expectations once we get back. Is there anything you wish to ask me before that?”

Joke was stunned. What was Jack doing, why was he talking like Joke was a stranger to him?

“N-No, I—”

“Excellent. The driver is waiting downstairs for us.” Jack opened the door and gestured for Joke to exit. Joke did so numbly, his brain trying to catch up with whatever the fuck just happened.

Did Jack seriously not recognize him? It had only been a year; surely he hadn’t changed that much. Was Jack just being professional? This was his workplace, after all. Maybe it would be inappropriate to make it known that they knew each other. That had to be it, Joke told himself as they backtracked his earlier steps, Jack following close behind him the entire way.

Once again, the car ride was silent, neither the driver nor the two passengers making any attempt at conversation. Joke’s stomach was churning, anxiety eating away at him; he had imagined meeting Jack again a thousand times over the past year, had spent hours daydreaming about it to distract himself from the boredom, but this was not a scenario he had ever played out before.

Sometimes, in his imagination, they met on Joke’s first day back, back in the alley where they last saw each other. Other times, Jack showed up just as Joke was being shoved into the car by his father, taking him by the hand and dragging him away from his family and obligations. That particular daydream was one of Joke’s favourites, but if he dwelled on it too long it usually ended with him in tears. 

Joke eyed Jack out of the corner of his eye, taking in his rigid body language and the way his hands were curled into fists on his thighs. Was Joke the one making him so uncomfortable? The thought made Joke’s stomach turn. The charged silence in the car was killing him; if Jack didn’t want to talk, Joke would.

“So,” Joke broke the silence. “Bodyguarding.” He cringed. Off to a great start.

Jack’s eyes cut across to him, his brow furrowed. It was the only indication he gave that he heard Joke at all.

“How does one get into the bodyguard business?” Joke winced inwardly at how awkward he was being. This was Jack, the same person Joke had spent hours talking to like they had known each other forever. Why was this so hard?

The pause before Jack answered was so long that Joke thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. “I had the right skill set required,” Jack eventually muttered, his hands twisting in his lap.

Joke remembered Jack telling him that he was supposed to start a new job the day after they met—had this been the job?

“How long have you been working for my father?”

Again, Jack paused before answering like he was weighing his words carefully. “A year.”

Suspicions confirmed, then. Jack had been working for Joke’s father for the past year while Joke had been away, hoping for word from him. That only made his silence more confusing—Jack must have known that Joke was part of the Khongsuk family, that Joke was his boss’s son. Surely, that would have made it easier to get in contact with him, right? 

A realization hit Joke suddenly, an option he had never considered before—maybe Jack hadn't wanted to get in contact with him. 

Joke had always been so sure that Jack felt the same connection that he himself had felt. The way Jack was acting right now though, like they had never met, like Joke was just a job for him… Joke blinked rapidly against the tears that welled in his eyes. Had he really spent a year hung up on a fantasy of a person who would never be interested in him?

The driver pulled up in front of Joke’s apartment building before he could do anything stupid like break down and ask Jack why he wasn’t good enough. They didn’t know each other, not really—Jack didn’t owe him any explanations. 

Jack got out of the car and walked around the back to open Joke’s door. The car peeled away as soon as Jack shut the door, leaving the two of them standing on the sidewalk. The tension between the two of them was palpable, and Joke felt sick at being the cause of it.

He endured an excruciatingly awkward and silent elevator ride up to the penthouse apartment—an entirely too big space that Joke didn’t need but his parents insisted on paying for—and avoided looking at Jack the entire way. Jack didn’t acknowledge Joke at all, hands tight on the briefcase he had picked up from the front desk of the office before they left.

Joke led Jack down the hall to his apartment and entered the passcode for the front door. He angled his body so Jack couldn’t see it—Joke wanted Jack around, but that didn’t mean he wanted him to have access to his apartment whenever he felt like it.

“Make yourself at home.” Joke tried for levity, gesturing for Jack to enter. “It’s a bit much for one person, but I’m sure you expected that.” 

They had discussed Joke’s living situation to some degree at the bar. Jack had clocked Joke as well-off, so Joke had complained about the sterile living spaces he had grown up in and the apartment he lived in that wasn’t truly his.

Jack cast a cursory look around the open floor plan and shrugged. “It’s… nice. Very clean.” 

The stilted conversation was messing with Joke’s head. “So,” he continued, leaning against the back of the couch while Jack hovered at the kitchen island opening the briefcase. “Protocols and expectations?” If Jack wanted to keep things professional, then so be it.

Jack nodded, rifling through his briefcase before pulling out a file folder. It had writing on it that Joke couldn’t make out, but he assumed it was something his father put together.

“We can start with the simple stuff,” Jack began, pulling some loose pages out of the folder. “According to your file, you frequent the same gym five days a week. You’re partial to black coffee, you’re allergic to penicillin, and—”

“Whoa, wait—that whole file is about me ?” Joke guessed he should have expected it, but the fact that Jack was reading this information like it was notes for a test felt… clinical. The anxiety eating away at Joke heightened.

There was a brief pause while Jack looked at the folder sitting on the counter in confusion. Joke felt embarrassment sweep over him; the file had his own damn name on it.

“Khun Khongsuk wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting myself into,” Jack explained, eyes darting to Joke's face quickly before falling back to the notes in front of him. 

Joke could hear his father’s voice in Jack’s words and felt annoyance start to build within him, overshadowing the anxiety.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he muttered, crossing his arms defensively. 

“I’m not your babysitter, I am in charge of your safety.” Again, it sounded like Jack was parroting Joke’s father. “I am to accompany you on any outing you take, social or otherwise. Anytime you are at the office, I’ll be nearby.”

“So I won’t even get the chance to miss you? You know, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Joke didn’t miss the way Jack’s eyes narrowed at his words. 

“Living arrangements have already been made,” Jack continued, ignoring Joke’s comment.

“I assume my father found you a nice apartment in the building. Not too high up, I hope, seeing as you’re afraid of heights.” Joke watched for a reaction, delighting in the way Jack’s brow furrowed at the callback. It wasn’t fair, but Joke couldn’t help baiting him, just a little bit.

Jack heaved a sigh before replying. “Your father’s words were, and I quote, ‘It would be a shame to waste money when Joke has a perfectly good guest bedroom he’s not using.’”

Joke stood up straighter. “Excuse me?” He mustn’t have heard correctly.

“My things will be delivered shortly,” Jack said, finally putting the notes down and looking Joke in the eyes.

“You’re joking.” 

Jack just looked at him, an almost pleading look in his eyes. 

“You’re serious,” Joke laughed, sounding a bit manic. “Absolutely not! No, this is my apartment!” He started pacing, his agitation growing.

“Khun, I understand that you want your privacy—”

“No, you don’t understand!” Joke was properly angry now. 

Did he want to reconcile with Jack? Absolutely. Did he want to grow whatever semblance of friendship had been planted between them a year ago? Yes, obviously. Had he thought about them living together and existing in shared spaces with shared routines? More than he’d like to admit. But that was different. That was before Jack acted like they were strangers to each other, before just being around Joke made Jack look physically unwell, before Joke’s father forced proximity on both of them. 

Joke didn’t want this if Jack didn’t want this, and all the signs were pointing to Jack definitively not wanting this. He looked pained, his face drawn tight, and his hands balled up into fists again, his knuckles white. 

It hurt more than Joke cared to admit that the idea of being close to him was causing Jack this much distress, but he pushed aside his own discomfort and tried to think of a solution that didn’t involve calling his father and begging him to reconsider.

Half an hour later, Joke was on the phone.

“Why does he have to live in my apartment? Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want him here?” Joke heard Jack answer the door and assumed his belongings had just been dropped off.

His father scoffed. “It is not your apartment. I am the one who pays the rent, so it is my apartment. I do not have time for this childishness—your bodyguard is my employee, you are living in an apartment paid for by me, and that’s the end of the discussion.” 

“Did you even ask him if he wants this? Forget me and what I want, did you ask Jack?” If his father didn’t care about his opinion, maybe he could be made to see reason if it was someone else’s feelings on the line.

“Jack? Are you on a first name basis already?” Joke heard the hint of a taunt in his father’s voice.

“Por, I’m serious—”

“So am I,” his father snapped, cutting him off. “I won’t hear any more of your whining. The decision has been made.” The line beeped as his father hung up on him.

Joke stared at the black screen of his cellphone for a few long moments, anger and suffocating helplessness rising like bile in his throat.

Jack wanted nothing to do with him. His father didn’t seem to care that Jack didn’t want to be here, and he certainly didn’t care about Joke's feelings or what he wanted. What did Joke want? He wanted Jack to want to be around him. He wanted Jack to talk to him, to smile at him again. He wanted to rewind to a year ago and make a different choice. 

Mostly, he wanted a drink.

“I’m going out,” Joke announced, barging into the guest room—no, Jack’s room.

Jack looked up from the duffle bag he was unpacking. It didn’t look like he had any other bags with him, no suitcases or boxes. All his worldly possessions seemed to fit into one duffle bag, and the thought filled Joke with a sadness that tempered the anger, if only slightly.

“Out?”

“To a bar.” Joke wanted to get drunk and pretend that he and Jack had met again under different circumstances. Maybe he could find someone tall with dark hair and serious eyes to distract himself with for the night.

Jack blinked at him a few times in obvious confusion. “A bar.  Are you serious?”

Joke saw the suspicion in Jack’s eyes, and it only spurred him on. Was this a good idea? Probably not, but Joke needed to get out of his head, and this was the best way he could think of. 

“Yes, Jack. A bar.”

Chapter Text

“Jack!”

Jack looked up from his computer screen to see his boss searching for him. “Yes, sir?”

“Khun Khongsuk wants you in his office.” It wasn’t a request; there was no unspoken ‘when you have a second,’ and Jack’s stomach dropped.

What reason could Khun Khongsuk possibly have to summon him? Jack had never met the man before, not even to interview for this job. He was the head of the company, he didn’t need to concern himself with the people who kept him and his employees safe. 

Jack ran through the last three months in his head, trying to think of any reason Khun Khongsuk would have for wanting to see him. He had never been late, always stayed his whole shift, never even called in sick, and any performance issue would be handled by his boss, not Khun Khongsuk himself.

Was Jack being fired? He needed this job, but more importantly, Ama needed him to have this job—how could he possibly tell her that he had been fired? Working in security wasn’t the most glamorous job, but it paid well. It allowed Jack to have some kind of savings for the first time in his life, and Ama to take weekends off from the market.

Jack stood from his chair, hyperaware of everyone’s eyes shifting off of him and back to their own computer screens. His palms were sweating, and he wiped them on his pants, the motion grounding him for a second.

One pair of eyes remained locked on him from above the screen across from him. Jack met them reluctantly, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d only get pestered more later.

“What did you do?” Tattoo mouthed at him, his brow furrowed.

Jack could only shrug.

Tattoo was the one friend Jack had made since starting this job, if you could even call them friends. Work acquaintances was perhaps a more accurate term; they ate lunch together and most days stayed late at the gym in the basement, lifting weights or sparring.

When Tattoo raised his eyebrows, Jack knew he’d have to debrief him afterwards, for better or worse. Tattoo would never let it go, even if Jack did end up fired and never saw him again.

Resigned to his fate, Jack took the elevator up to the top floor, avoiding looking out the big glass windows as best he could. He hated heights—why anyone would willingly surround themselves with a view of the open air like this baffled him. He preferred stability, the feeling of something solid he could trust beneath his feet.

Outside Khun Khongsuk’s office, Jack wiped his hands on his pants again and took a deep breath. He counted backwards from ten, just like Ama taught him back when he was a kid still waking up from nightmares. 

The door was propped open, so Jack squared his shoulders, knocked lightly on the doorframe, and stepped just past the threshold.

“You wanted to see me, Khun?”

A middle-aged man with white hair and glasses looked up from a file, his eyes lighting with recognition after a couple awkward seconds. “Yes, yes. Please, take a seat.” 

Jack sat across the desk from Khun Khongsuk, taking stock of the man before him. He didn’t look anything like what Jack expected. He had pictured someone fierce, hard, and frankly, younger. Khun Khongsuk looked like someone’s father, with soft lines on his face that Jack remembered Ama having when he had first gone to live with her. He tried not to think about his own father and what he would have looked like at this point in his life if he had ever gotten to see it.

“Do you know why you’re here today, Jack?” Khun Khongsuk leaned back in his chair as he spoke, the gesture immediately putting Jack at ease.

Jack almost wiped his hands on his pants again, only to catch himself and flex his hands awkwardly. “No, sir.” 

Khun Khongsuk nodded, his eyes sharp as they watched Jack’s movements. “I’ve seen you sparring in the gym after work.”

Jack flushed, embarrassed. It never occurred to him that anyone would see him, let alone the head of the company.

“It’s quite impressive for someone so young. Do you have any formal training?”

“Yes, sir. I tried out for the national team a few years ago, but… well, they went with someone else.” The memory of that humiliating day was far too fresh in Jack’s mind. 

“Well, that’s their loss and my gain.”

Jack tried and failed to hide his confusion. “Sir?” 

“Jack, let me be frank with you.” Khun Khongsuk leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk. “I am in need of someone with your particular talents. Someone to help with… enforcing contracts and protecting the company’s investments.”

Jack turned that phrase over in his head a couple times. What exactly did ‘enforcing contracts and protecting the company’s investments’ mean? At the very least, it sounded like an opportunity to get out from behind his computer monitor, and at best, perhaps this was a way Jack could prove his worth to Khun Khongsuk and the company.

“So, I’m not getting fired?” It felt silly to ask, but Jack needed to know for sure that he wasn’t about to be unemployed and kicked out on the street.

Khun Khongsuk laughed. “Fired? My dear boy, no, you’re not getting fired. In fact, this new position comes with a significant pay raise.”

A pay raise? Jack thought about what that would mean for him and Ama, how proud she’d be of him. He could already hear her bragging to the other vendors at the market—a market she wouldn’t need to sell at anymore, not with some extra money coming in.

“Whatever you need, sir. However I can help the company.” 

“Excellent!” Khun Khongsuk clapped his hands, and Jack relaxed in his seat.

Jack sat there, already planning out what flowers to pick up for Ama on his way home, when a framed picture on the wall behind Khun Khongsuk caught his eye. It was a family photo; the Khongsuk patriarch sat in the middle of the frame, a woman who was presumably his wife sitting next to him, looking prim and proper. Beside her was a boy in glasses that Jack could clearly tell was their son. And there, standing in the back, was a face he had spent the past few months thinking about. 

Joke.

Khun Khongsuk noticed Jack’s attention drift and spun in his chair, following Jack’s gaze.

“Ah, my family,” Khun Khongsuk explained. “Those are my sons, Top and Joke.”

Top. Jack remembered Joke’s younger brother from their brief meeting outside Jack’s house three months ago, when he had pressed a little notebook into Jack’s hands and told him that Joke was going away for a while. He hadn’t said much more than that, just that Jack should read the notebook, which of course he had done immediately, tucked up in his bedroom away from Ama’s prying eyes.

“Top is a business major at university right now, top of his class.” There was no mistaking the pride in Khun Khongsuk’s voice as he spoke about his youngest son, Jack could see the way he practically swelled with it. If he played his cards right, maybe this could be the lead he had hoped for.

“You must be proud,” Jack offered. If Khun Khongsuk wanted to gloat, Jack would give him the chance. 

His mind was spinning with possibilities. This was Joke’s father, he must know how to get in contact with him. Jack could ask him for the address of the place Joke was staying, surely he would give it to him if he explained the situation.

“Oh yes, we’re very proud of him. He’s everything we could ask for in a son.” Khun Khongsuk sighed. “Joke though… He’ll take over from me, one day, if I can get him to smarten up. I don’t know where I went wrong with him, his brother never gives me any trouble.”

Jack fought not to react to Khun Khongsuk’s words. The same instinct to protect Joke that had flared up so strongly in that alley came rushing back, but Jack bit his tongue. He needed to ask Khun Khongsuk for help, and snapping at him about his son wouldn’t do Jack any favours.

“Actually, Khun, this is such a weird coincidence,” Jack said, forcing a light laugh. “I actually know your son, Joke. Well, know might be a bit generous, um—”

Jack tried not to fidget under Khun Khongsuk’s gaze. It was unreadable as he waited for Jack to continue.

“We met, just before he went away.” Jack watched Khun Khongsuk’s gaze sharpen, just slightly. “He actually, um, gave me the address of the place he was staying, but I think he made a mistake when he wrote it. I’ve tried writing to him, but my letters all got sent back.”

Khun Khongsuk’s eyes narrowed. “Of course it was. That boy barely knows how to write his own name.”

Jack felt another surge of anger but pushed past Khun Khongsuk’s comment. “Well, I was wondering… I don’t mean to overstep, but I was wondering if maybe I could get the right address from you? It’s just that I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

There was a long pause before Khun Khongsuk spoke again, and Jack felt the energy in the room shift. “Of course. In fact, why don’t you bring your letters and any others you wish to write directly to my office? That way you don’t have to pay for the postage.”

Jack smiled in relief. “Really? Thank you, sir. I really appreciate this.”

Khun Khongsuk answered Jack’s smile with his own soft one, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Anything for a friend of my son.”

“This is not a bar!” Jack had to shout to be heard above the bass reverberating through his skull.

“Club, bar—same thing!” Joke’s eyes were roving over the crowd, looking for something or someone. 

“Khun, I don’t know if this is a good idea.” It was his literal first day on the job, and Khun Khongsuk had made his instructions very clear—keep an eye on Joke, keep him in check, and most importantly, give a weekly report on everywhere he went, everything he did, and everyone he saw.

Somehow, Jack didn’t think that a nightclub was the sort of place Joke’s father would be happy about him visiting. Jack followed Joke to the bar and watched as the bartender recognized him and slid a drink into his hand. Clearly, Joke was not a first-time customer, but Jack had to wonder just how much of a regular Joke had been for the bartender to still remember his order after not seeing him for a year.

Joke knocked back the dark liquid in one gulp. “No one said you had to partake,” he retorted, signalling to the bartender to get him a refill.

Jack bit back a snarky reply about how he was on the job and thus couldn’t partake even if he wanted to. And boy, did he want to.

Seeing Joke for the first time in a year that morning had been like a punch to the gut. He had looked good—too good. He had grown his hair out, and his suit was tight around his shoulders like he had spent the past year working out. Jack had had time to prepare for seeing him again, but that didn’t make it any harder.

And now he was standing at a bar in a too-loud club, watching Joke get steadily more intoxicated. It was a particular kind of torture. He was joking with the people around him, making eyes at the bartender, and smiling at everyone freely. Jack remembered what it was like to have those eyes and that smile aimed in his direction across a bar not unlike this one.

“Khun,” Jack shouted near Joke’s ear, “I’ll be right back.” He needed to clear his head. He just hoped he could trust Joke not to run off the minute his back was turned; that was the last thing he needed.

The cold water on Jack’s face grounded him for a second. He leaned on the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. The face he saw there looked tired, but he wasn’t surprised. Today had been a nightmare to begin with, and now he was out at a club with the man he had spent the last year uselessly pining over, pretending he didn’t remember him. 

Jack truly thought it would be easier than this. It wasn’t like they had spoken in the year since they’d last seen each other, despite Jack’s best efforts. He had thought he’d be able to just be Joke’s bodyguard and follow Khun Khongsuk’s instructions, but the stupid feelings he’d spent months trying to quash had come rushing back as soon as Joke had walked towards him in that office.

Jack’s face burned with the memory of it. The way Joke had marched his way towards the door, not sparing Jack a single glance. The embarrassing hope that Joke would remember him and the heart-stopping panic when he did. 

Jack groaned and splashed his face one more time, dabbing it dry with the cheap paper towel. He was an adult, he could do this. It was just one night… followed by every day and night afterwards. Totally doable. 

Joke wasn’t at the bar when Jack returned. Panic surged through him as he surveyed the area; his job hinged on him not losing Joke, sure, but more than that, the urge to protect him was back in full force. How was Jack supposed to do that if Joke was out of his sight?

“Excuse me,” Jack called, getting the bartender’s attention. “Did you happen to see where my friend went?”

The bartender looked at a point over Jack’s shoulder and nodded, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Jack turned, searching the crowd on the dance floor for Joke. It took a moment for Jack to recognize him in the crush of people, but there he was, dancing, a man’s hands low on his hips. Jack watched as Joke brought his hands up around the man’s neck and pulled him in closer. The music pounding in Jack’s head matched the tempo of his heartbeat.

A flush rose on Jack’s face as he kept watching, feeling like a voyeur intruding on something private. His eyes caught on the sway of Joke’s hips, and he couldn’t help but imagine his hands on Joke’s hips, pulling him closer, the feeling of his lips on Joke’s ear as he leaned down to whisper something.

“Looks like you lost your chance, hot shot.” 

Jack shot the bartender a glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” The bartender nodded to the dance floor again, and Jack looked back in time to see Joke being pulled through the crowd toward the bathrooms. “Better luck next time.”

Jack didn’t waste his breath on answering. He took off towards the bathrooms, heart in his throat. What if this was one of the men from the file Khun Khongsuk gave him? It was dark in the club, and Jack hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, but it could have been one of them.

Worst-case scenarios were spinning in Jack’s head. Joke bleeding out in a back alley. Joke getting shoved into an unmarked van. Joke—Jack’s footsteps stuttered as a new worst-case scenario came into view. Joke pressed against the wall outside the bathroom, his hands tangled in some guy’s hair while said guy tugged Joke’s shirt out of his dress pants. Jack caught a flash of skin above the waistband of Joke’s pants before his view was blocked by frantic hands tugging Joke’s zipper down, and he moved into action again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jack didn’t mean for the words to come out so loud, but there they were, echoing down the hall, making both Joke and the guy jump.

Joke’s eyes found his immediately, and Jack was close enough now to see them go wide with shock and something that looked like embarrassment before they hardened.

Random Guy craned his neck to see who had interrupted them, his expression going from angry to distinctly wary as he sized Jack up. It took everything in Jack’s power to not smirk at the guy’s obvious discomfort, the experience of watching his cocky exterior melt below Jack’s gaze entirely too satisfying.

“You didn’t say you came here with anyone,” the man said with a nervous laugh, his hands still on Joke’s zipper.

“I didn’t, he’s nobody.” Joke said it like a challenge, his eyes locked on Jack’s over the man’s shoulder.

Nobody. Jack supposed that had always been true, and never more than now, but the distinction didn’t sit right with him.

“I’m his—” His what? His bodyguard? The person he spent a few hours with a year ago? Joke raised his eyebrows, daring Jack to finish his sentence. “I’m—”

Random Guy shook his head, saving Jack from answering. “Look, man, whatever. I don’t want to get in the way of this… situationship you’ve got going on.”

He removed his hands from Joke as Joke groaned in frustration, his head falling back against the wall with a thud. Jack ignored what the sound of that groan did to him, instead turning to watch Random Guy leave without a backwards glance.

Irrationally, Jack felt offended on Joke’s behalf. The guy just left, not even bothering to say goodbye to the man he was in the middle of hooking up with. Joke deserved better than that, he deserved—

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?”  Joke’s voice was angry, and when Jack turned back to face him, his face was red with alcohol or fury—or both. Joke’s shirt was still untucked, his zipper half open, and Jack fought against the distraction. 

Joke was mad. It occurred to Jack then that he had never seen Joke angry before. Even when they were fighting those men in the alley, Joke had been scared maybe, but mostly he had been cocky, sarcastic. Anytime Jack had daydreamed about him in the year they’d been apart, Joke was laughing, smiling—happy, like he had been that night. Anger was new and unfamiliar territory.

“Why did you do that?” 

“Do—Joke, he was some random guy!” 

Jack saw the moment Joke clocked his slip-up; his eyes narrowed, and his face twisted in an expression that reminded Jack too much of Khun Khongsuk.

“Yeah, he was. Why does that matter to you, Jack? Huh?”

“It—He—” Fuck. Jack was very quickly losing whatever little control he thought he’d had over this situation. “Khun Khongsuk gave me very clear instructions—”

Joke pushed away from the wall, stalking closer to Jack. “I don’t care! I don’t care about whatever my father told you to do! Be honest with me, Jack!”

Jack opened his mouth to retort before his brain caught up to his emotions, and he closed it again. He took a deep breath to focus his thoughts before answering as calmly as he could. “You can’t just hook up with random strangers in a bar.” Not while I’m with you remained unspoken, the words hanging in the air between them. Jack wondered if Joke could feel them as strongly as he could.

Joke scoffed. “I can do whatever I want with whoever I want to do it with.” 

Joke was right but the statement felt wrong. 

Joke was up in Jack’s space now, looking up at him, and their height difference had never been so obvious to Jack before. It flustered him, making him rock back on his heels.

“You can’t—”

“Stop saying that!” Joke was yelling now, and with how close they were, Jack could see his eyes were shiny with tears. “You don’t get to be jealous! You have no right!”

Again, he was right. Jack had absolutely no right to be jealous, and yet here he was. 

Joke’s face was flushed, his eyes glassy, his lips a little swollen, and the sight made Jack want to find Random Guy and punch him about it. Joke was an objectively attractive man—Jack had thought so the moment Joke had walked into the bar a year ago—but the feelings swirling in Jack’s chest, the heat simmering in him, the urge to protect what was his… they didn’t make sense. Joke wasn’t anything to him beyond a job. An asset to protect. One night together and the year of silence since had made sure of that.

Joke’s bottom lip quivered, and without thinking, Jack’s hand came up as if to touch it. He briefly wondered if it would be as soft as it looked, if it would give under his fingertips.

He saw Joke follow the movement of his hand, and the sharp inhale of Joke’s breath snapped Jack out of his reverie. He curled his hand into a fist and dropped it back to his side, ignoring the way it shook and the way Joke’s face fell. Jack clenched his fist until his nails dug into his palm, four pinpricks of pain that he used to ground himself. That had been close—too close. He was stronger than this. He had to be stronger than this.

“Jo—Khun,” Jack corrected himself, ignoring Joke’s humourless laugh. “Let’s go home. You’ve had too much to drink, and nothing good can come of this right now.”

The suggestion seemed to sober Joke up a little, his face settling into a mask of indifference. “Home. Right.”

Joke pushed past him, and Jack followed, silent. First day on the job, and he had a feeling he’d already fucked things up beyond repair. 

When they got back to the apartment, Jack punched in the code without thinking. Behind him, Joke laughed that humourless laugh again. 

Joke barely waited for Jack to open the door before pushing into the apartment and stalking to his room, the slamming of the door echoing through Jack’s skull. He walked to his own room and very proudly did not scream his frustrations into his pillow—instead, he fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed of deft fingers in his hair and tear-filled brown eyes.

Chapter Text

The week following Jack’s disastrous—to put it lightly—first day on the job was… rough. Joke barely spoke to him, save to mutter instructions or plans for the day ahead. Jack supposed he had it coming, but it did make the forced proximity awkward, to say the least. 

Their shared spaces became battlefields, each side digging trenches and erecting borders. Joke had his shelf in the fridge; Jack had his. Joke’s products never mingled with Jack’s in the bathroom, and their shoes didn’t touch in the front hall. 

Unconsciously, they had developed a schedule that was not to be deviated from. Jack showered the day off at night; Joke preferred to be fresh for the day ahead. Joke never ate breakfast, and Jack made sure to vacate the kitchen with his congee as soon as he heard Joke’s alarm and shuffling footsteps, leaving the way to the coffee maker clear.

Pieces of Joke fell into place, filed away almost subconsciously in Jack’s mind. Joke wasn’t much of a reader, preferring television dramas to the written word. He had a favourite café and a usual order, and his favourite spot for lunch was under the big tree in the park down the street. More than once, Jack had seen Joke toss crumbs to nearby birds or drop a coin in a beggar’s cup. It was fascinating, and Jack absorbed all of it.

Jack had learned more about Joke and his habits from the last week of barely interacting than he ever would have gleaned from the file Khun Khongsuk had put together. It didn’t really surprise him though—no one could mistake Khun Khongsuk for being a doting father. 

All things considered, Jack could at least be grateful that he had a relatively easy assignment. Hope was stuck with Khun Khongsuk himself, and Jack wouldn’t wish that task on anyone. 

A full week after what Jack had taken to calling The Incident at the bar, he cornered Hope in the lunchroom. 

“Tell me I can’t quit this job,” Jack groaned, dropping his head against the fridge.

Hope didn’t even look up from where he was brewing his third cup of coffee. “You can’t quit this job,” he deadpanned, stirring an ungodly amount of sugar into his steaming mug. “Unless you want to go back to doing what you were doing before this? Do you miss being Khun Khongsuk’s bit—”

“Okay!” Jack interrupted before Hope could go any further. “Thank you, that did the trick.” 

As unsubtle about it as Hope was, he was right. Nausea rose in Jack’s stomach whenever he thought about the months he had spent working as Khun Khongsuk’s errand boy. He never wanted to go back to that, even if that meant dealing with whatever the fuck was going on between him and Joke that had Jack’s heart flipping whenever he saw him.

“At least you don’t have to deal with the old man directly,” Hope continued. “And hey, you’re not stuck on a university campus like Tattoo.”

Jack laughed. “True, it could always be worse.” He would know—it had been worse, not too long ago.

“Jack, there you are!” Their boss poked his head into the lunchroom. “You’re needed in the gym. Grab a change of clothes.”

Jack stifled a sigh and nodded, ignoring Hope’s muttered, “go get ‘em, tiger,” as he followed his boss out the door.

“You want me to what?” They were standing in the empty basement gym, and Jack’s words echoed off the concrete walls.

“Khun Khongsuk wants you to train Joke in self-defence—I want you to do as you’re told,” Jack’s boss answered, arms crossed in front of him. 

That was all well and good, but if Jack’s memory was correct, Joke didn’t need training in self-defence. Jack remembered the fight in the alley well—the way Joke had taken punches and delivered his own right back without hesitation. Not to mention that Joke had barely spoken to Jack all week; Jack wasn’t sure that throwing each other to the ground would help foster a civil relationship.

“But Joke doesn’t—”

“Joke doesn’t what?” 

Jack tensed at the sound of Joke’s voice behind him. He turned around to the sight of Joke in loose, grey sweatpants and a compression shirt. Fuck. He looked good, and he probably knew it too.

Joke didn’t drop his gaze, even as Jack’s eyes roved over his body of their own volition. “And I believe it’s Khun Joke to you, Jack.”  

Jack winced. He had been caught slipping—again. 

“I didn’t mean—I just thought—” What was it about Joke that turned Jack into a stuttering mess? And in front of his boss, too; it was embarrassing.

“My father is worried that my… year away means that I’m out of practice,” Joke explained, and Jack didn’t miss the way he hesitated over the words.

Jack’s boss looked between the two of them, undoubtedly picking up on the underlying tension between them. “Khun Khongsuk wants to make sure that his sons are prepared, in case they’re ever on their own and a threat arises,” he elaborated, hammering the point home.

Well, when it was put like that—and pointed out that this was indeed his job—how could Jack possibly hope to refuse? 

“Understood, sir,” he said with a nod, standing up just a little bit straighter.

Jack’s boss left with a nod at Jack and a wai at Joke, who returned the gesture with a polite bow of his head. He never acted that way with Jack, but Jack supposed he didn’t act that way with Joke either. There was never any wai-ing, just charged silences and curt words.

“Well… let’s get started then.” Jack didn’t bother going to the locker room to change into his workout gear. He knew the gym was reserved for him and Joke for the next hour; no need to worry about anyone walking in. 

He stripped down to his boxers and peeled his button-up off, hyperaware of Joke’s eyes on him. It briefly occurred to Jack to ask Joke to turn around, but the way his pulse spiked knowing Joke was watching him was intoxicating. Jack pulled on his t-shirt and joggers and turned around, praying that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

He was met with Joke’s own blush-stained cheeks, the lip that Jack had foolishly reached for a week ago caught between his teeth. He pretended not to notice the way Joke’s eyes seemed caught on his torso and the way his breath caught when he realized Jack was watching him. Joke didn’t look away in embarrassment like Jack expected—instead, his gaze locked unwaveringly with Jack’s, a challenge in the arch of his brow.

The air between them felt charged and dangerous, Jack’s nerves ringing out a warning.

“So,” Jack said, clearing his throat. “Should we start with the basics?”

Joke smirked and rolled his shoulders. “How do you want me?”

Jack took his time leading Joke through some stretches, definitely not filing Joke’s flexibility away in his mind. Joke had the basic forms down, and the ones he didn’t know, he picked up with ease. Joke was both a quick learner and incredibly athletic. Those new muscles weren’t just for show—Joke was strong, stronger than his fairly slight frame let on.

It was obvious Jack wouldn’t need to go easy on him, so he told Joke not to hold back as they stood opposite each other on the mat, hands raised and ready. Jack was prepared for Joke to get a few hits in, and he expected them to hurt, but he wasn’t prepared for Joke to feint to the left as Jack advanced, sweeping his legs out from under him. 

Jack fell back onto the mat hard, but not before grabbing hold of Joke’s arms and dragging him down with him. They landed in a tangle of limbs and lost breath, Joke’s forehead colliding painfully with Jack’s chin.

They lay there in a heap on the floor for a second, neither of them moving. Joke was warm against him, and the pain was forgotten as that warmth seeped under Jack’s shirt and into his skin.

“I think you just broke my face,” Joke groaned, shifting slightly. “What the fuck was that for?” Joke raised his head, bringing his face that much closer to Jack’s. It was the closest they’d been since that night at the bar, only this time they were both sober, and Joke’s eyes were free of tears.

Jack didn’t answer, his heart beating against his ribs at Joke’s proximity. Had he always smelled so good? Like vanilla and sandalwood—it made Jack’s mouth water. This close, Jack could see a red welt blooming on Joke’s forehead, just visible behind the curtain of his hair.

“Jack? You can let go.”

Belatedly, Jack realized he still had Joke’s arms in his grip. “Shit, sorry.” He dropped his hands like he’d been burned.

In a moment of déjà vu, Jack’s hand rose towards Joke’s face. He felt Joke freeze as he brushed his hair aside, getting a better look at Joke’s forehead.

“Are you hurt?” Jack gently brushed over the spot with his thumb, careful not to press too hard against it—he didn’t want to hurt Joke more than he already had.

“Just my ego,” Joke said, a blush rising in his cheeks.

Jack hummed, a bit lost in the feeling of Jack’s skin under his fingers. He brought both hands up to gently grasp Joke’s face, turning it this way and that to get a better look at it.

Joke’s sharp inhale was loud in the quiet of the moment. “Jack, it’s—” Joke cleared his throat. “It’s just a bump. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack murmured, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly across Joke’s cheekbones. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

This close, Jack got a stunning view of Joke’s eyes growing wide before filling with tears. His brow furrowed in the most endearing way, creating a crease that Jack couldn’t stop himself from smoothing out. He really was beautiful.

“Jack…” It was barely a whisper, more like a breath in the shape of his name, but it felt like a shout. 

Time froze for a long second as they looked at each other, and Jack watched Joke’s tongue dart out to wet his lips—lips that looked so much softer today than they had just a week ago. How was that possible? He might have thought he imagined the way Joke leaned in were it not for the way Joke’s eyes darted down to Jack’s lips as he did. 

There was time to stop it, to shove Joke off of him, but Jack didn’t move. He let the moment stretch out, let Joke lean in, and resigned himself to the fact that he was a weak, weak man.

The door to the gym swung open with a bang, and Joke rolled off him before Jack could even blink.

“There you are!” Tattoo strode into the room, completely oblivious to the suffocating tension that hung in the air. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere—oh! Khun Joke, I’m sorry.” Tattoo hastily wai’d in Joke’s direction as Joke stood, dusting himself off. 

Jack felt like an idiot, still lying on the floor, watching Tattoo fumble over himself. He saw Joke pull on that familiar mask as he answered Tattoo’s wai and felt something cold settle in his stomach.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby,” Joke muttered to Jack’s still prone form before walking off in the direction of the changing room.

Jack only nodded from his spot on the floor. Tattoo’s face filled his vision as he leaned down into Jack’s space.

“Bro, what the hell did I walk in on?” There was a hint of teasing in Tattoo’s voice, but it was overshadowed by incredulity and no small amount of concern. 

With a dramatic groan, Jack flung his arm over his face. He was so fucked.

When he finally made his way down to the lobby, it was with wet hair courtesy of a cold shower and a budding headache he partially blamed on Joke’s hard head and partially on the thoughts bumping around inside his brain. He was saved from voicing any of them by Joke nodding at him before heading out the door, expecting Jack to follow him.

Jack felt a confusing mix of disappointment and relief at Joke’s behaviour—whatever spell they had been under in the gym was evidently broken, and it was back to business as usual.

The car ride back home was silent, just like all the others, and in the elevator, they stood as far apart as was physically possible. They didn’t speak as they entered the penthouse, each heading to their respective spaces without so much as a ‘goodnight.’ 

When Jack was sure that Joke was done with his nighttime routine, he left his room and ventured into the kitchen to make himself a cup of warm milk. It was a silly, childish habit that he had never shaken; it reminded him of Ama and home. He went to the cupboard to grab a glass, only to stop short when he caught sight of a steaming glass on the counter, accompanied by some painkillers. 

Jack glanced between the glass of milk and Joke’s closed bedroom door and felt whatever had been buzzing under his skin all afternoon settle. It was just a glass of milk, but coming from Joke, it felt huge. It felt like a peace offering. 

Chapter Text

After the afternoon at the gym, things between them had fallen into a truce of sorts.

Jack cooked for both of them every morning, which meant that Joke actually ate breakfast. He’d wake up to the smell of sausages or bacon mingling with the bitter scent of black coffee. Jack didn’t drink coffee in the morning, this much Joke had observed over the past few weeks, and the fact that Jack took extra care to have it ready for Joke every morning sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

The drives to the office were still silent, but the tension that had been festering between them had dissipated. Their evenings were spent in comfortable silence, Joke watching a movie while Jack read in the armchair in the corner. It was… nice. Domestic. Completely unexpected.

Neither of them had brought up the incident at the gym. Maybe incident wasn’t even the right word—accident? Mistake? Complete lack of self-preservation on Joke’s part? It wasn’t like Joke to let things lie; it was one of his biggest flaws, according to his father—his incessant need to hash things out, to make his opinion known. With Jack though, things felt fragile. Joke didn’t want to poke and make things worse, not when things were finally semi-normal between them.

Their subsequent training sessions were much less charged, a conscious effort on Joke’s part to not be so distracted by Jack and his body and his lips and his strong hands, and really, Joke could go on and on.

Frankly, part of him hoped that Jack had forgotten about their almost kiss, in the spirit of being friends with no weird strings attached—but there was also a not-insignificant part of him that hoped Jack thought about it as much as he did.

It had been such a stupid move, a moment of weakness on Joke’s part. Jack had been lying there, saying such nice things to him with a look of utter concern in his eyes, and Joke had folded. A year’s worth of yearning and daydreaming had caught up to him as soon as Jack had brushed his hair out of his face.

It was silly, but sometimes Joke wished the bruise would stay, just to remind him of the softness in Jack’s eyes when he had looked at him. 

As it was, it had been a few days, and the bruise had faded to a light green colour, mostly hidden by his hair. Joke’s father had noticed it, of course. The look of disappointment on his face let Joke know that he only thought the worst of him, and Joke didn’t bother to explain. It was much easier to let him think Joke had gotten caught by a stray punch than try to explain—or better yet, lie about—anything that had happened between him and Jack in the gym.

Three weeks after his return to the city and one week after The Incident, Joke’s father took him aside after a particularly boring meeting. It had been about numbers and projections, but when were these meetings ever not about numbers and projections?

He racked his brain for any transgression he might have made in front of the board members, but none came to mind. Joke had remained silent, pretending once again to take notes while hoping beyond hope that he could at least retain any information he heard so he could parrot it back to his father if need be.

Joke trailed meekly behind his father as he led them to his office and took a seat at his unnecessarily large desk. 

“Don’t just stand there,” Joke’s father admonished, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk. 

Joke hesitated before sitting, perched on the edge of his seat like he might need to bolt at any moment.

“You’ve been back for three weeks.” 

Joke nodded, wondering where this conversation was going.

“Joke, answer me when I speak to you.”

Joke sat up a fraction straighter, his hands clasped neatly in his lap. “Yes, sir. Three weeks.”

“I trust coming back has been an easy transition for you.” It wasn’t a question, and Joke knew he was not expected to answer truthfully. There was never any room for anything as uncomfortable as feelings in his family. 

“Yes, sir. Everything has been smooth, I’ve been enjoying being back.” That was only a little bit of a lie. He enjoyed not being stuck in solitary confinement, but he could have done without the Jack of it all. Or, at least, that had largely been his feeling up until a week ago. “Jack has been doing a great job,” he added.

He had been doing too good of a job, in Joke’s opinion. Any cracks he had managed to find in Jack’s facade were quickly patched up and brushed aside.

His father’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the mention of Jack. “Good… that’s good. I’m glad to hear there have been no issues there.”

There were no issues, per se . Just a crippling, one-sided crush that threatened to engulf Joke every damn day, but other than that, things were just peachy.

“From what I’ve heard,” Joke’s father continued, “you two don’t seem to talk much. I’ve been told things have been awkward between you two, and I thought perhaps it was because Jack had taken offense to the partying and your other… proclivities. Of course, I would never fault him for that, he’s a sensible young man. I would just hate for either one of you to be uncomfortable with this arrangement.”

A flicker of anger lit in Joke’s chest. He knew how his father felt about his lifestyle choices. He had gotten in trouble for frequenting clubs and bars in the past—his father never cared why Joke felt the need to visit those establishments with such alarming regularity; he only cared that Joke could be seen by any number of investors and board members at those establishments.

His parents had never directly asked Joke who exactly he met when he went out drinking; it wasn’t exactly the type of conversation they wanted to have over breakfast when Joke had wandered in hungover, still dressed in his suit from the day before. They had their suspicions, sure, but like most things with them, if it wasn’t acknowledged, it wasn’t an issue. Joke’s issues at school, Joke’s fighting, Joke’s drinking, Joke’s sexual preferences—no one ever talked about it, but he guessed well enough how they felt.

For his father to insinuate that Jack might be uncomfortable with any of that meant that he knew about all of it—the club, the hookup, probably even the fallout afterwards. Joke struggled to keep his breathing even as he processed the new information being presented to him; there was only one way he could think of for his father to have gotten any of that information, and that was through Jack himself. 

A dead weight settled in Joke’s stomach. He had been so focused on being back, on having Jack in his life, that he hadn’t fully considered the fact that Jack worked for his father, not for him. Forget taking care of Joke’s safety, Jack’s real job was keeping tabs on Joke and reporting his findings back to his father. He had thought that if he couldn’t have Jack the way he wanted to, then at least he might have him as a friend, as someone on his side, but… Well, that’s what he got for hoping.

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard, Por, but I can assure you, we get along just fine. My ‘proclivities’ don’t seem to offend Jack in the slightest.”

Jack might be under his father’s thumb, but Joke was at least certain he wasn’t a bigot. Not with the way he had looked at him in the club, or the way he hadn’t moved away when Joke had leaned in to kiss him.

His father stared at him in silence for a beat too long, making Joke squirm in his seat. He waited for the other shoe to drop, for his father to unleash punishment for Joke’s missteps. He just hoped that this time, he wouldn’t be sent away again. Not when he had been trying so hard to do better. To be good.

“Well, at any rate, I wanted to let you know that I’ve been quite impressed with you these past three weeks.”

Joke couldn’t help the way his eyes widened in surprise at his father’s words. Impressed? He didn’t think he had ever heard that word directed at him before, let alone by his father.

“Th—Thank you, sir.” He tried not to make it sound like a question, like he was asking permission to be thankful for the smallest of compliments.

His father nodded thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “You’re free for the rest of the day. Go home, relax.”

Joke jumped on the offer before his father had a chance to think clearly and rescind it. He wai ’d quickly, leaving the room and practically running to the elevator. He knew his driver would be waiting for him; as far as he was aware, the man didn’t have anything better to do with his time.

The decision not to tell Jack he was leaving for the day was a conscious one. Joke didn’t want to see him, not right now. Not when he was still reeling from the whiplash of his father’s praise, coupled with his own anger at Jack’s betrayal.

“Take me home,” Joke instructed his driver, sitting back in his seat as the man silently nodded and pulled away from the curb.

His head was starting to ache, and his tie felt like a noose around his neck. A wave of utter loneliness washed over him, and he closed his eyes for the rest of the ride, fighting back tears.

He had only been home for maybe 20 minutes before he heard the keypad beeping, signalling Jack’s arrival. Joke continued puttering around the kitchen, not really doing anything, just keeping his hands busy in an attempt to stop himself from looking at Jack when he came in. Maybe if he didn’t look, he wouldn’t give in to the manic, angry feeling that was rising in him.

“There you are,” Jack sighed, relief evident in his tone. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?” 

There it was again—that concern for Joke’s wellbeing. Joke refused to look at him, lest he be rendered dumb by the look he was sure he would find in Jack’s eyes. The one that was soft and warm and made Joke forget himself and try to kiss him.

“Why are you so concerned? You’re not my mother.” Not that his mother had ever paid him enough attention to ever be concerned. 

Jack gave an awkward little laugh, like he couldn’t tell if Joke was kidding or not. “You left without telling me, I think I’m allowed to be a little worried.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Heaven forbid I live my own life without informing you of my every move.” Joke made the mistake of looking at Jack then, and he felt himself waver in his anger. The look he knew he would find was out in full force, pinning him where he stood.

Jack frowned at him, tilting his head in that adorable way he did when he was trying to figure something out. It was infuriating. “Is something wrong? Have I done something to upset you?”

Joke laughed, a mean thing that he didn’t have any control over. “Why? Are you going to tell my dad that I’m mad at you?”

Jack blinked at him, and it had no business being as cute as it was. Not when Joke was angry at him. “What are you talking about?”

“He thinks we don’t speak! He knows about the nightclub, about me hooking up with that guy—who else could have told him about all that, huh?”

“Khun—” Jack tried to interrupt, taking a step towards Joke with his hands held up in surrender.

“Oh! Do let me know when you tell him I tried to kiss you during our self-defence lesson. I want to make sure I’m prepared for that particular conversation.” Joke could hear his voice rising with every word, could feel the way his pulse pounded with anger and something that felt like fear.

“Joke!” The look on Jack’s face was stricken. “I never told him any of that. I would never—”

Joke didn’t let the sound of his actual name from Jack’s mouth distract him. “Isn’t that your job? Aren’t you supposed to report on my whereabouts? What I’m doing and who I’m doing it with?” 

“There are some things that aren’t mine to share,” Jack answered, his voice hard.

“Right,” Joke scoffed. “Because someone like you can afford to not follow orders.” Joke saw the words hit Jack like a blow, saw his face drop for a second before he schooled it into something blank and professional once more.

“Just because your father pays my salary does not mean I’m his lap dog.” Jack’s words held an edge, and Joke got the impression that he wasn’t just talking about his current job anymore. “I’m my own person, I make my own choices. Being poor doesn’t mean I don’t have integrity.”

“That’s not what I meant, don’t put words in my mouth.”

Jack laughed bitterly. “Right. I’m putting words in your mouth. I’m not the one accusing you of something I have no proof of.”

“I—” Joke scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. “Well if it wasn’t you, who could it have been?”

“I don’t know, your father’s pockets are deep. I can’t be the only poor, desperate man in this city willing to do anything for a paycheque.” Jack’s words were dripping with anger and hurt, his eyes shiny.

Joke’s heart clenched. “I didn’t… that’s not what I meant.”

“Sure,” Jack scoffed. “If you’re done accusing me, Khun, I’ll excuse myself.” The title was back, and so were Jack’s walls. Joke could feel him building them back up as he turned and walked to his room, the soft closing of the door as loud as if he had slammed it.

Joke sighed, leaning against the island with his head in his hands. It was like they were always taking one step forward and two steps back, but this time, he had no one to blame but himself.

“Fuck.”

He retreated to his room, the silence in the apartment eerie. It hadn’t been that long, but Joke had gotten used to the sounds of cohabitation, to the knowledge that Jack was out there making as much of a home as he was able to out of Joke’s apartment. 

Joke had half a mind to knock on Jack’s door and see if he wanted to watch a movie, but instead he lay on his bed until the sun streaming in the windows set and the city lights lit up the skyline. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had skipped dinner in his wallowing, so he dragged himself up and made his way to the kitchen.

A covered plate sat on the counter with a sticky note on the top. It took him a few minutes to get the words down—

don’t forget to eat

So Jack had been out there, silently cooking dinner for them so as not to disturb Joke. Guilt washed over him as he removed the lid from the plate to the sight and smell of still-warm chive dumplings—his favourite.

Joke glanced towards Jack’s door, that lonely feeling rising in him again, only now it was tempered by something warm, something that felt like being seen.

“You’re such an asshole,” Joke muttered to himself as he got Jack’s mug out of the cupboard and the milk out of the fridge. He wasn’t sure if he was talking about Jack for being so unwaveringly kind even when Joke was a dick to him or himself for being the dick in the first place. Probably a little of both.

Grabbing the stack of sticky notes from the counter, Joke waited for the milk to heat up as he drew his own white flag of surrender. They could talk in the morning, he decided, taking the mug out of the microwave before the timer went off. He stuck his sticky note to the handle and took the plate of chive dumplings back to his room, making sure to audibly shut the door so Jack would know the coast was clear.

Joke held his breath and listened carefully as Jack’s door opened and quiet footsteps made their way to the kitchen. He thought he heard a soft laugh, followed by footsteps growing closer and Jack’s door closing again. Joke smiled to himself, hoping his olive branch had been well received.

They were words he had memorized the shape of when he was a child, so they had come with relative ease:

I’m sorry. Thank you. 

:(:

Chapter Text

“Khun, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.” Jack listened for the telltale sounds of Joke rushing to get dressed. “Khun—”

Joke’s bedroom door flew open, the man in question shrugging on his suit jacket as he brushed past Jack. “I’m ready, I’m ready.” Joke flashed a teasing smile as he moved towards the door. “What are you standing around for? We’re gonna be late.”

Jack stood frozen for a second, a laugh bubbling past his lips. “Alright, let’s go.”

He let Joke lead the way to the elevator but stopped him from pressing the button for the lobby, instead pressing the button for the parking garage.

Joke looked at him, frowning. “Where are we going?”

“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Jack answered, teasing.

Jack smiled at Joke’s heavy sigh. He blamed his good mood on the sticky note he had found waiting for him last night. It wasn’t much, but for some reason, the words paired with the smiley face had softened something in him.

Being accused of sharing all of Joke’s private, personal matters with his father had stung; there was no denying that. To know that Joke thought so little of him was heartbreaking, but the reminder of Jack’s status in the world, the accusation of selling Joke’s secrets for money… that hurt the most. It only occurred to Jack after, in the silence of his bedroom, that in all the weeks he had been with Joke, he hadn’t really given him a reason to trust him. He hoped Joke would know that he could confide in him and know he would keep his secrets, but Jack was learning that Joke needed tangible proof, not empty words and promises.

It was surprisingly easy to convince his boss to let him handle Joke’s transportation. All Jack needed to say was that it would “lower costs and increase efficiency, while simultaneously making it easier to protect Joke at all times.” He felt gross saying the words, reducing Joke to an item on a P&L report, but it did the trick.

The car had been delivered later that night, along with the keys and instructions to keep Jack’s boss updated on how things went, which meant that Jack was going to continue doing exactly what he had been doing up to this point—editing his reports and sharing that Joke was a model heir and son who took his work incredibly seriously. Jack never once mentioned the night at the club or their awkward first weeks together, and he definitely hadn’t mentioned their almost kiss to anyone, let alone his boss or Khun Khongsuk. That moment was between him and Joke, no one else.

The elevator came to a stop on the lowest level, and the doors opened with a ding! When Joke didn’t move, Jack stepped around him.

Joke trailed behind, clearly not done with his interrogation. “I don’t understand. The car is always waiting for us.”

“Well, it won’t be anymore,” Jack said simply, leading the way to where he knew the car would be parked and digging the keys out of his pocket. “It won’t kill you to walk to the car every morning, Khun.”

Joke huffed, indignant. “Fine, but where’s the driver?”

It amused Jack that Joke had never bothered to learn the driver’s name, but it didn’t really matter now anyway.

Jack unlocked the car and opened the back door for Joke. “I don’t know, probably sleeping in. It doesn’t matter where he is, because I’ll be driving you from now on.”

Joke’s eyes widened in surprise. “You? Why?”

“Because,” Jack sighed, praying for strength against Joke’s endless questions, “I think your driver is the one who’s been talking to your father.”

There was a beat of silence. Jack waited, letting Joke work through whatever feelings he was having right now. If Jack knew him at all—and he liked to think he did—Joke was feeling the same anger, and mix of relief and embarrassment that Jack had felt the night before.

Sitting in his room seething, it had dawned on him that Joke’s driver was the only one who would have seen them together with any sort of regularity. Jack wouldn’t put it past Khun Khongsuk to have instructed the driver to keep tabs on Joke, and by extension, Jack. He had been the one dropping them off places, including the nightclub—it would have been so easy for him to follow and watch them. Jack blamed himself, really. He should have been paying more attention in the club, but he had seen Joke with that guy and… well, he hadn’t been thinking with his head after that.

“Think about it,” Jack continued when Joke remained silent. “Who else ever sees us together? If it was him, he won’t be able to spy on you anymore. If it wasn’t, then I’ll just be able to add ‘personal driver’ to my resume.”

“So… wait.” Joke looked so adorably confused, his brow furrowing in that way that had Jack itching to smooth the skin between his eyebrows. “You, what? Requested to drive me around so I had privacy?”

Jack nodded, happy Joke seemed to be getting it now. “Well, not just you. I wanted us both to have privacy. To be able to be together without anyone watching us.”

A flush rose in Joke’s cheeks at Jack’s words, and Jack felt his own face heat as the implication hit him.

“I mean—I didn’t—I just meant that our business is our own, no one else’s.”

“Right. No, of course. Thank you. This is… thank you.” Joke’s eyes were earnest and so full of gratitude that Jack had to look away, lest he get lost in them.

“I also wanted to apologize for last night,” Jack continued before Joke could get in the car and he lost his nerve.

“Jack, no,” Joke protested, stepping closer. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I accused you of something I had no proof of, and I said horrible things to you.” Joke’s eyes got shiny, and Jack had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him. “I never should have said those things to you, I was way out of line. I’m sorry.”

Whatever remaining anger Jack felt evaporated in the face of Joke’s sincerity. He looked so remorseful, his eyes welling with tears—Jack couldn’t handle it.

“Yeah, you were kind of an asshole,” Jack joked softly, drawing a small laugh out of Joke.

“Like father, like son, I guess,” Joke said, a hint of bitterness to the words.

“Hey, no.” Jack reached out and put a hand on Joke’s shoulder.

Joke looked at where Jack’s hand rested then back to him, a question in his eyes.

“You’re nothing like your father.” Jack needed Joke to know he had never once thought there was any sort of resemblance between the two of them.

“Thank you,” Joke whispered, smiling up at him. The moment stretched out, the silence between them comfortable once more.

Belatedly, Jack realized his hand was still on Joke’s shoulder, his thumb absentmindedly brushing Joke’s lapel. He cleared his throat and stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side.

He gestured at the open car door with a slight bow, succeeding once again in making Joke laugh. “Thank you for apologizing. Now get in, or we really will be late.”

“You’re chauffeuring him around now?”

Jack sighed into his tea. He was impressed it had taken Hope this long to comment on the new development in Jack’s routine, but that didn’t make the questioning any more welcome.

“I’m not chauffeuring him around. I’m adding marketable skills to my resume.” 

Hope barked out a laugh. “Right. It’s definitely not because you want to spend more time with your crush.”

Jack was mid-sip and promptly choked on it at Hope’s words. “Crush? I don’t—He’s not—”

“Bro, come on,” Hope said with an exaggerated eye-roll. “I’ve known you long enough to know you’ve never talked about anyone as much as you talk about Khun Joke.”

“Of course I talk about him, he’s literally my job!”

“Is it your job to talk to me about him? Am I your boss? Or, god forbid, Khun Khongsuk?” Hope raised an eyebrow, daring Jack to argue.

“Who is Jack talking to you about?” Save walked into the lunchroom carrying two lunch bags, making a beeline towards Hope.

“No one—”

“Khun Joke. Jack has a crush,” Hope interjected, taking one of the bags from Save. He dug a carefully wrapped sandwich out of it and took a huge bite, groaning in delight.

“Ah.” Save nodded sagely. “He is very handsome.”

“Hey!” Hope’s protest was muffled by sandwich.

“Not as handsome as you, obviously,” Save reassured Hope, ruffling his hair.

Save was the only person who was ever able to touch Hope like that. The Hope Jack knew was guarded, with walls higher than even Jack’s, but with Save, he was softer, freer. Their relationship had confused Jack in the beginning, but it was clear they only had eyes for each other. 

He felt a pang of jealousy at how at ease they were with each other; they didn’t care if people saw them or said anything about them—they were solid in their devotion to each other; anyone could see it. 

“You guys are horrible colleagues,” Jack muttered, pressing his fingers to his temple where a headache threatened.

“Hey now, that’s offensive. We’re horrible friends ,” Hope corrected, grinning at him.

That was part of the problem. Hope and Save were Jack’s only friends, aside from Tattoo, but there would always be a barrier between them because of who they worked for. Save was Khun Khongsuk’s secretary, and Hope was his bodyguard—as much as Jack would have liked to actually have someone to talk to about his complicated feelings towards the Khongsuk heir, the two of them weren’t exactly safe confidants. He didn’t mistrust them, exactly, he just didn’t want to take any risks.

“Exactly, we’re friends. You can tell us all about your crush, we pinky-promise we won’t tell.” The seriousness in Save’s voice was exaggerated as he crossed his heart with a finger.

Jack was surrounded by assholes.

“I do not have a crush on Joke,” Jack protested, ignoring how weak his conviction sounded even to him.

“Joke?” Save’s eyebrows rose, his eyes darting to meet Hope’s briefly.

“ Khun Joke,” Jack corrected quickly. “I do not have a crush on Khun Joke.”

There was a beat of silence between the three of them that had Jack’s palms prickling. He resisted the urge to wipe them on his pants, afraid of what their scrutinous eyes would read into the action.

Save’s eyes were thoughtful now, boring into Jack. Even Hope looked serious where he sat, still eating his sandwich.

“What?” Jack struggled to keep his voice even. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing. Just… be careful, Jack.”

Jack spent the rest of the day thinking over Save’s words. What reason was there to be careful? He most certainly did not have a crush on Joke, and even if he did—which he didn’t—it was Joke . Everything Jack had seen over the past few weeks spoke to a kind, if a bit insecure, person. Even this morning, he had apologized for his behaviour, which was more than Jack could say for other people he knew. He could certainly do worse than having a crush on Joke.

“Khun Joke! What brings you here?” Hope’s voice dragged Jack out of his thoughts. He glanced at the time and swore under his breath—it was well past time to take Joke home for the day.

“I was just wondering if Jack was ready to go. I’m sorry to intrude.”

“I don’t think you can intrude anywhere in a building that has your name on it,” Hope said, laughing.

Joke’s awkward laugh had Jack springing from his seat.

“I’m sorry, Khun,” Jack apologized as he rounded the corner, catching the uncomfortable look on Joke’s face. “I didn’t realize the time.”

Joke’s head swiveled towards Jack, and there was no mistaking the relief in his expression. “It’s no problem, I was just meeting your colleagues.”

Hope looked from Jack to Joke and back again, his eyes glinting and his mouth turning up into a smirk. Jack knew that look, and he hurried to intervene before Hope said something they’d both regret.

“Shouldn’t you be checking on Khun Khongsuk, Hope?” Jack asked through a fake smile and gritted teeth.

Hope leveled a quick glare at him. “You’re absolutely right. Enjoy your evening, you two.” He wai ’d at Joke and gave Jack a look that meant they weren’t done talking about this.

“Sorry about him. He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” Jack watched Hope’s retreating figure, waiting for him to turn the corner before looking back at Joke. “Let’s go home.”

“Actually, Jack, there’s somewhere else I’d like to go, if that’s alright.” Joke sounded nervous, his hands twisting together anxiously.

“Of course, Khun. Wherever you’d like.” Jack just hoped it wasn’t another nightclub.

‘Somewhere’ turned out to be a rundown area of town with patchwork buildings and alleys that ran jagged between them.

As they pulled up in front of the building Joke pointed out, Jack was reminded of where he had grown up. There were kids chasing each other into the street, weaving their way between cars and around garbage bags and abandoned bicycles without a care in the world.

“You can park out front there.” Joke pointed to a vacant parking spot along the crumbling sidewalk.

“Khun, where are we?”

Joke took a deep breath before answering. “I’ll show you, come on.”

Jack followed Joke through a courtyard full of children. Joke walked with purpose, like he was supposed to be here, and Jack’s confusion only grew.

“P’Joke!” A high-pitched squeal came from their left, and a blur of a person slammed into Joke, who immediately wrapped his arms around them.

“Oh my goodness, look at you! You’ve grown!”

“Where were you? You said you’d be back tomorrow, and that was so many yesterdays ago.” She pouted, her face scrunching in a way that reminded Jack of Joke.

“I know, I’m sorry. I had to go away for a while, but I’m back now.”

The girl looked up at Joke with such a severe expression on her face that Jack had to cough to hide his laugh. “You’re back for good though, right?”

Joke busied his hands with untangling the girl’s hair where it had fallen out of her clip. “I promise I’m back for good.”

The girl huffed, seemingly content with Joke’s promise. She let him continue playing with her hair, chattering away about everything he had missed in the year he had been absent, paying Jack absolutely no mind at all. He watched, absolutely fascinated by yet another new side of Joke that was unfolding in front of his eyes.

This Joke spoke softly and used his hands gently. This was a different Joke from Khun Joke Khongsuk, from Jack’s roommate Joke, from P’Joke from the bar, but this version fit him just as well.

When the girl grew restless, Joke re-clipped her hair and sent her off to her friends with a soft smile on his face.

Jack’s curiosity was eating away at him. “So… what exactly is this place?”

Joke tore his gaze from the group of kids playing tag and shrugged, suddenly bashful. “It’s kind of like a school, I guess? It’s a place for kids who have no other options. We offer lessons, after-school care for kids whose parents have to work, extra-curricular sports and activities—you name it, we try to provide it.”

“And you spent a lot of time here?”

Joke shrugged again, avoiding Jack’s gaze. “Yeah, I mean, when I wasn’t busy at the office. My father doesn’t know about it. Top and I each get an allowance of sorts, and I spent mine on this before I went away.”

“Wait, this isn’t funded by the company? You spent your free time doing this with your own money?” Jack swore he felt his heart grow in his chest.

Joke looked at him warily. “Yes? Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I just—”

“Is it seriously that shocking? Is your opinion of me that low?” There was a challenge in Joke’s voice, like he was daring Jack to say yes and confirm his fears.

“No! God, no, I—I’m sorry. You’re right, I don’t know what I expected, and it certainly wasn’t this, but Joke, this is… this is amazing.” He got the pleasure of watching Joke’s cheeks flush and his eyes widen in surprise. His dimples showed as he tried to fight back a smile, and Jack felt an inexplicable urge to press his lips to one of them.

“Thank you. Maybe you could volunteer sometime too. Teach them taekwondo. They could use an outlet like that, they have way too much energy.” Joke gestured to where a group of them were now holding hands and spinning in a circle only to fall to the ground giggling.

Jack laughed. “Only if you agree to help with the demonstrations.”

Joke eyed him curiously, his head tilted as if considering Jack’s offer. “Well, of course,” he said, sauntering closer. “Someone has to show them how it’s done.”

“Oh, so you think you can take me?” Jack asked, voice low as Joke stepped into his space.

“I know I can,” Joke countered, his eyes darkening.

Jack’s tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and he knew he didn’t imagine the way Joke’s eyes followed the movement. Jack's heart was beating so hard, he was sure Joke could hear it. The air around them was charged with the same energy that had sparked between them back in the gym; Jack had half a mind to pull Joke in closer, just to see what he would do.

“P’Joke!”

At the sound of Joke’s name being called, they jumped away from each other, Jack’s face burning as bright as Joke’s looked. Jack’s heart was racing, and he couldn’t blame it entirely on the scare. It felt like whiplash, how easily they had fallen into flirting.

“Will you read us a story?” The girl was back with a tattered storybook in her hands, and Jack found it incredibly endearing that her hair was already falling out of its clip again.

Joke’s face did something complicated, his expression falling before he twisted it back into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh… maybe some other time, okay? I don’t want to keep my…” Joke glanced at Jack quickly before looking away, his cheeks red. “Um, I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

“It’s okay, Khun. I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“No, it’s just—I have a headache suddenly, I don’t think reading is a very good idea.” Joke turned pleading eyes on Jack, but he was loath to disappoint the girl in front of him.

He crouched down to her level, smiling when she glanced at him warily. “What’s your name?”

The girl hid behind Joke’s legs and shook her head, refusing to answer.

“I’m P’Joke’s friend, it’s alright.” Jack glanced up at Joke to see him looking at him with something that looked like wonder in his eyes.

“It’s okay, go ahead,” Joke reassured the girl, stepping around her so Jack was facing her once more.

In a move that was so much like Joke Jack would have sworn the two had to be related, the girl narrowed her eyes and sized Jack up before answering. “My name is Toi Ting.”

“Toi Ting. That’s a pretty name. My name is Jack, it’s very good to meet you.” Jack held out his hand and felt a silly amount of pride when Toi Ting shook it. “It just so happens that this book is one of my favourites. Would you mind if I read to you instead?”

Toi Ting’s face broke into a big, toothy grin. “Really?” Any earlier apprehension dissipated at Jack’s offer.

“Really! As long as it’s okay with P’Joke, that is.”

Poor Joke was leveled with twin gazes imploring him to say yes as Toi Ting turned around and pouted at him. Jack stuck his bottom lip out too, just to hammer it home.

Joke threw up his hands in mock defeat. “How is anyone supposed to say no to two faces as adorable as those? Alright, let’s go get the others,” Jack said, ushering Toi Ting back towards the other kids.

Jack couldn’t stop the wide smile on his face from growing at the sight of the two of them walking hand in hand.

“You know, if you ask nicely, I bet P’Jack will do special voices,” Joke stage whispered to Toi Ting, glancing back to where Jack stood, taking in the scene in front of him. “Jack, you coming?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m coming.” He jogged to catch up, taking Toi Ting’s other hand in his when she offered it.

“Thank you for today.”

They were sitting on the couch with one of Joke’s dramas on the TV, but neither of them were really watching it. Joke’s words broke the comfortable silence, softly spoken as they were.

“Oh, it was no problem at all.” It truly hadn’t been. It was the most fun Jack had had in ages, if he was being perfectly honest.

“The kids really liked you,” Joke murmured, staring at his hands. “I’m sure they’ll be asking for you to read them more stories.”:

“I genuinely wouldn’t mind, I had a lot of fun. It reminded me of when I was in school, I loved reading.” Jack laughed to himself, lost in his memories for a moment. “Actually, my teachers couldn’t get me to stop reading, I used to get in trouble a lot…” He trailed off when he noticed Joke’s attention was clearly elsewhere.

Joke’s fingers were absentmindedly picking at the pillow on his lap, and Jack’s heart sank when he realized Joke’s eyes were filling with tears.

“Khun? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I just—” A tear fell from Joke’s lashes, and he wiped it away angrily. “I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not being stupid,” Jack said gently, shifting closer to Joke’s side of the couch.

“You were so good with them,” Joke laughed wetly, blinking furiously against more tears. “I’ve never read to them before. They used to ask all the time, and I could never…”

“If you don’t want me to go back, I won’t,” Jack hurried to reassure him. “I don’t want to overstep. The school is your passion project, not mine.”

Joke shook his head vehemently, finally looking at Jack with sad, wide eyes. “No! No, I want you to come back, it’s not that.”

Jack remained silent for a moment, weighing his options. He didn’t want to spook Joke, not when they were finally back to whatever their normal was.

When he finally spoke, it was soft, giving Joke plenty of opportunity to interject. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but—”Jack moved even closer, tentatively covering Joke’s still-fidgeting hands with one of his “—if you ever want to, I’m here. You know that, right?”

Joke looked at where their hands were touching, a rogue tear falling from his eye and landing on the back of Jack’s hand. Slowly, like he was afraid Jack might jerk away from his touch, Joke turned his wrist and intertwined his fingers with Jack’s. They stayed like that for a long time, not saying anything, just letting the quiet sounds of the TV filter around them.

When Joke laid his head on Jack’s shoulder, his breaths coming slow and deep, Jack didn’t dare move. He settled back into the couch and closed his eyes, content to let Joke rest there for as long as he needed to.

The next thing Jack knew, he was blinking awake to the sound of an obnoxious kid’s show character asking him if he knew how to cross a bridge.

He shifted, burying his face deeper into his pillow, except the feeling wasn’t right, it was too warm and solid, and also breathing? He opened his eyes fully, squinting against the sun streaming in through the windows. The room came into focus in pieces—the TV, still on from the night before, the feeling of couch cushions under his arm, and…

Jack moved his head slowly, carefully, and was met with the sight of Joke asleep above him. Somehow they had migrated in the night: Joke on his back and Jack’s head resting on his chest. Jack knew he should probably move before Joke woke up, but he was mesmerised by the sight above him. Joke looked so much younger in sleep, the weight of life lifted from him.

A stray lock of hair had fallen over Joke’s forehead, and without thinking, Jack brushed it away, the movement gentle so as not to disturb the sleeping man under him. The bruise on Joke’s forehead had finally faded, but Jack ran his thumb over the spot where it had lingered, his touch feather-light.

“Jack.”

He froze, heart in his throat, sure he was caught, but Joke’s eyes didn’t open.

“Jack, they… They want me to read.”

Oh god. Joke was talking in his sleep. Jack filed this away in his ever-growing mental folder full of Joke facts and quirks.

“I don’t want to do it,” Joke huffed adorably, his brow furrowing under Jack’s thumb.

“I’ll do it for you,” Jack whispered softly, so softly. He didn’t want to risk waking Joke up, not when he had been sleeping so peacefully. “Just sleep.”

Joke smiled and shifted, his hand coming up to rest on Jack’s arm. “Stay,” he whispered. His breathing slowed as he fell back into a deeper sleep.

The feeling in Jack’s chest probably should have scared him, but he let his heart beat faster, let the warmth spread and sink into every nerve-ending. Lying there, looking up at Joke, Jack realized that despite Save’s warning, it was far too late for him.

He moved Joke’s arm gently and got up slowly so as not to jostle him. Jack set about getting breakfast ready for them, taking special care to cook as quietly as he could.

When Joke woke up to the smell of coffee, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Jack pretended the sight didn’t make his heart skip a beat. When their fingers touched as he handed Joke his coffee, he willed his hand not to shake. When they went their separate ways to get dressed for the day, Jack definitely didn’t scream into his pillow or blush like a teenager at the thought of Joke getting changed in the next room.

God, he was so fucked.

Chapter Text

Joke didn’t remember falling asleep, but judging by the crick in his neck, he had slept through the night for the first time in… well. Years, probably. It wasn’t like the couch was particularly comfortable; he must have been more tired than he realized. He lay there for a minute, getting his bearings. He could hear Jack puttering around the kitchen and smelled freshly brewed coffee, and he knew that there would be a cup of it waiting on the table for him, just like there was every morning.

Pieces of a dream flashed through Joke’s mind, fuzzy around the edges. Something about Jack’s head on his chest, the feeling of his fingers against Joke’s face… that was all he could recall. It wasn’t the first time he had dreamed of Jack, of course, but there was something about this one, fragmented as it was, that felt real. Solid.

It lingered in his mind as they ate and got ready for the day, but Joke did his best to push it from his mind. There was a big investor meeting coming up and his father expected him to present at it. Joke was terrified, of course, but he had to try, and in order to do that, he needed to stop thinking about how warm Jack had felt and how soft his fingers had been in his dream.

Joke tried his absolute hardest to focus for the rest of the day. He sat in endless meetings and listened to his father and the other board members drone on and on about projections, budgets, and contracts—all things Joke could not bring himself to care about. If Top were there, he’d have no problem deciphering the business jargon that flew over Joke’s head, but unfortunately, such was Joke’s lot in life.

Just before Joke was set to go home for the night, his father called him into his office again, this time to give him some files to review in preparation for his presentation.

“I expect you to look these over and have a summary of them on my desk next week,” his father said, his attention already drifting to a different stack of papers on his desk.

“All of these?” The folder was thick. Intimidating.

“Yes, Joke. All of these.”

Joke looked up at his father’s tone of voice, unsurprised to find him looking at him with thinly veiled annoyance.

“Right, of course. Sorry, I just—”

“That won’t be a problem, will it? You had a whole year to get over whatever hurdles were stopping you before. Honestly, Joke, you’re 31. How many more excuses can you possibly come up with?”

Joke’s blood boiled. He had to stop himself from crushing the folder, his hands shaking with anger. “I don’t have any excuses, Por. It won’t be a problem.”

His father eyed him silently for a moment, perhaps waiting for a bigger reaction. “Excellent. Don’t disappoint me.” The again was left unsaid, but Joke heard it loud and clear.

Joke threw down the files. It was hopeless; he didn’t understand a single thing on the page in front of him. He could parse together some words, but they didn’t make sense with the ones next to them. He wanted to light the report on fire.

Jack looked up from where he sat on the couch, reading. “You okay?”

No, no, he was not.

“There’s a huge investor meeting coming up, and my father wants me to present at it. He wants me to look over this report and summarize it, but I don’t understand it. He knows I can’t— He doesn’t—” Joke gave up on words and let out a wordless cry of frustration, dropping his head to the table.

“Do you want help?” It was a simple question, asked so gently that Joke wanted to cry.

Yes, yes, he did.

“I… I shouldn’t need help.” A familiar feeling of embarrassment and inadequacy rose in his chest, and he had to remind himself that this was Jack, and Jack wasn’t his father. Jack wouldn’t be disappointed in him for something like this—he was kind.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t ask for it,” Jack reminded him softly. “What is it you’re having a hard time understanding? I’m no businessman, but maybe we can figure it out together.”

Joke wanted to kiss him for being so patient, so understanding, even in the face of Joke’s outbursts and hesitancy.

“Jack, I…” Joke took a deep breath. He could do this. “Last night, you said you’d always be there to listen. Is that offer still open?”

“Of course,” Jack was quick to reassure him. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.” He looked concerned as he bookmarked his page.

“At the school, when Toi Ting asked me to read to them, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to.” Joke’s heart was pounding, shame welling up inside him. “I… I couldn’t.”

Jack just sat there, looking at him quietly over the back of the couch, and Joke squirmed under his gaze.

“I…” He sighed in frustration. “It’s not that I can’t read, it’s just— I’ve tried, I stare at the pages and nothing makes sense, it’s like the letters move around before I can grasp them.”

Jack nodded slowly, ever patient.

“It drives my father crazy. Top never had any issues with it, of course, but I just… I don’t know. And now, I’m supposed to read over this report before this big meeting, and I can’t make it make sense, no matter how hard I try.”

“Okay, well… How about this.” Jack walked over to the table and took the seat next to Joke. “What if I read you the report? Would that be helpful?”

Joke sat for a moment, taking in Jack’s offer. “You… You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course! If you think it will help. I know people have different learning styles and all that.” Jack was so earnest that it made Joke’s heart hurt.

Joke furiously blinked away the tears that were suddenly burning in his eyes. “No one’s ever… Yeah. Okay, let’s try. It can’t go any worse than it has so far, right?”

“Well, I don’t think trying to beat business jargon into your brain is a very good way to learn, anyway,” Jack joked, picking up one of the files. “Okay, let's get started.”

Joke went to bed past midnight, mentally exhausted, but it felt like an accomplishment, rather than abject frustration and self-pity. They had gotten through a sizeable chunk of the files, Jack reading them to him and taking notes on the key information. To Joke’s immense surprise, he actually understood pieces of what Jack had said to him; sitting in on his father’s endless meetings must have been doing some actual good after all.

His dreams that night were strange. He was running through the office with Jack close on his heels, yelling definitions and statistics at him. When he woke up, he felt lighter; the dread he usually felt about going to the office slightly lessened. He walked out of his room with a spring in his step for the first time in… ever.

“Good morning,” Jack greeted from his spot at the table, his breakfast plate surrounded by papers. He was on one of Joke’s old iPads, brow furrowed in thought.

“Morning,” Joke yawned, sitting down where his piping hot coffee was waiting for him. “What’s got you looking like that this early?”

“I was up late after you went to bed, researching some things.” Jack turned off the iPad and turned to face Joke, his expression serious. “Joke, have you ever been tested for anything? In terms of your issues with reading?”

Joke laughed. “Yeah right, and have someone give my parents a reason for me being the way I am that wasn’t just laziness and stupidity?” He meant it to sound like a joke, but even he could hear the bitterness behind the words.

“You’re not stupid,” Jack said firmly, holding Joke’s gaze. “You know that, right?”

“I mean yeah, sure.” Joke shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I’m being serious. You are not stupid. It’s important to me that you acknowledge that.” Jack was looking at him in that way of his, with big, concerned eyes.

“Okay, okay. I’m not stupid,” Joke muttered, hiding from Jack’s gaze in his mug..

“Good,” Jack said with a small smile on his face, evidently satisfied with Joke’s answer. “Because you’re not. I do, however, think that you’re dyslexic.”

Joke blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You’re dyslexic. You have dyslexia. At least, that’s what all the research I’ve done seems to think. Of course, it would be easier to diagnose if you had been tested as a kid, but I think it’s pretty obvious.”

“Sorry, you were up all night researching me ?” Joke thought Jack had stayed up to go over the files, but no. He had been looking into something for Joke.

“Yeah.” Jack shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Like Joke’s heart wasn’t threatening to burst out of his chest at the thought of someone putting in this much effort—any effort, really—into understanding him.

“I… Dyslexia?”

“It’s a learning disability. It’s not uncommon, and there are ways to help make reading easier. And writing actually, since you struggle with that as well.”

“Yeah, I—How do you know that?” Joke couldn’t think of any time he had attempted to write anything in front of Jack. God knows he never got to send any letters to him, otherwise Joke’s shortcomings would have come to light real quick.

Jack’s gaze flicked away for a second. “Just an assumption, based on the facts and the research.” Jack coughed awkwardly and wiped his hands on his pants. “But anyway, yeah, there are ways to help with all that.”

Joke hummed, simultaneously confused by Jack’s sudden caginess and incredibly grateful for him.

The sound of Joke’s phone ringing snapped both of them out of their thoughts. His father’s name popped up on the caller ID, and Joke heaved a sigh before answering. “Good morning, Por.” Maybe if he sounded cheerful, the conversation would be less painful.

“Morning? Joke, it’s 8:30, it’s practically the afternoon.”

The force of Joke’s eyeroll almost gave him an aneurysm. “Well, don’t worry, I’ll be at the office on time.”

“That’s actually why I called you.” The sound of shuffling papers came over the line, and Joke heard his father yelling for Save. “Take the day to look over the files a bit more. We’ve had a last-minute invite to some charity auction the Jumlongkul family is hosting.”

The name was vaguely familiar, no doubt one of the rival families Joke’s father was always complaining about. Heaven forbid anyone else try to monopolize the market.

“Before you try to get out of it, this is an incredibly important networking event for us. The Jumlongkul Corporation is one of our main competitors; it wouldn’t do for us to not have a presence tonight.”

Joke knew his father meant that it was important to keep up appearances. “So you’ll be there as well?”

His father scoffed. “No, something of this scale I’ll be leaving up to you and your brother.” This was a test, then. A chance for Joke to get back into society beyond the office.

“Yes, sir.” Joke could feel Jack’s eyes on him, watching quietly.

“Save will send Jack the details. Have fun, and don’t disappoint me.”

The line disconnected, and Joke deflated.

Jack was quiet for a moment before breaking the silence. “Everything okay?”

Joke scrubbed a hand over his face, a headache forming behind his eyes. “Yeah, just a slight change of plans for today. You’re going to get an email from Save with the details, but Top and I have been roped into representing the family at a charity auction tonight.”

Jack’s eyebrows rose, and he nodded slowly. “Right…”

“Some of the other business dynasties do this kind of thing. It looks good to have a charitable organization under the company’s umbrella—it helps keep the public off your back if you have something ‘good’ to fall back on.”

“Huh… What does the Khongsuk Corporation have in terms of charitable organizations?"

Joke thought about it, taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “I don’t actually think we have one. We used to be big on stray animals. I remember we adopted a dog when I was a kid, but it was all for show; my parents ended up giving him to the housekeeper’s family. His name was Sammer. Top and I loved him.” He looked up to see Jack gazing at him with sadness in his eyes. “Hey, I can barely take care of myself! You really think I could take care of a dog?” He tried for humour, but he’d have to be deaf not to hear how messed up the whole thing sounded. He made a mental note to refrain from telling Jack too many stories about his fucked-up childhood.

Jack nodded some more, his eyes going somewhere far away as his brow furrowed in thought. Joke waited for Jack’s thought to form, sipping his coffee. 

“Feel free to tell me if I’m overstepping, but have you ever considered bringing the school idea to your father?”

Joke choked on his next sip at the suggestion. “Schooling isn’t exactly something that the Khongsuk Corporation typically deals in,” he stuttered out between coughs.

“Maybe not,” Jack acquiesced, moving to clear the dishes from the table, “but think about it. It would definitely improve public opinion of the company, and, by extension, your father. And really, were dogs something the Khongsuk Corporation typically dealt in?”

He had a point. “No, but… I wouldn’t even know where to start with a proposal. And I would need one, my father won’t hear anything to do with the company without a formal proposal.”

“Okay, so we’ll make one. I’ll help you.” Jack shrugged, like he actually thought it would be that easy.

“Jack, we just figured out I have dys… whatever. I think a business proposal is a bit out of my reach.”

“You’ve got that big meeting coming up, right? When is it?”

“The summary is due next week; the meeting is the week after. That’s not enough time, Jack, come on. Be serious.”

“I am being serious!” Jack put the dishes in the sink and turned back to him, leaning against the counter. “Look, the school is important to you, right? You want to see it expand and succeed?”

Joke shrugged. “Obviously.”

“And impressing your father… also important to you, right?”

Joke sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“This could kill two birds with one stone,” Jack explained, the earnestness in his voice cracking Joke’s resolve. “Think about it. Your father wants you to take more initiative in the company—what better way to do that than to propose something that will ingratiate him and the company to the public completely on your own. He doesn’t need to know that I helped. You can just let him be blown away by your thoughtfulness and business sense.”

Joke sat quietly, digesting Jack’s proposal. The thought of introducing an idea as grand as this to his father made him a bit nauseous, but Jack was right. This was exactly the kind of initiative his father had been begging Joke to take for years, and if it helped the school at the same time… it was hard to see any downsides.

He nodded before he lost his resolve. “Okay. Let’s do it. It’s absolutely insane, but that means it has to work, right?”

“That’s the spirit!” Jack grinned at him, and Joke was powerless to stop his own answering smile. “We’d best get started then.”

“Okay, now what does this say?”

Joke wanted to rip his hair out. They had been at this for hours now, and it didn’t feel like he was making any progress. They were using one of Jack’s books for practice until they had time to research and buy the correct resources, and the language wasn’t exactly business jargon, but that didn’t make it much easier. “I don’t know.”

“Come on. You do know, I know you do.” Jack was being so gentle and patient with him, and Joke appreciated it, he really did, but right now he kind of just wanted to punch the understanding look off Jack’s face out of pure frustration.

Joke heaved a sigh and focused on the words in front of him. “L-O-V-E… ‘Love.’”

A smile lit up Jack’s face, and the urge to punch it dissipated and morphed into something soft. “I told you you knew it! And this one?”

Joke stared at the next word on the list, willing the letters to form into something familiar. “C-O-N-F-E-S-S…?”

“Yes,” Jack encouraged, “you got it.”

“Con… Con…?” He looked to Jack for help, the word not coming to him.

Jack laughed softly, but it wasn't mean, he wasn’t laughing at him. “I like you,” he murmured.

Joke swore his heart stopped beating. “Huh?” Was this actually happening?

“It’s a clue, I’m giving you a hint. If I told you I liked you, what would that be?”

Oh. Of course. Joke fought to keep his face from falling. It was crazy how much a single second of hope could hurt.

“A confession,” Joke said, clearing his throat embarrassedly. “‘Confess?’”

“Yes! Perfect! One more, okay? Then we’ll get ready to go.”

Fuck. Joke had completely forgotten they had the auction to go to. He was mentally exhausted; he didn’t know how he was going to manage being ‘on’ in front of so many people later.

“This one right here. What’s it say?”

“P-R-O-M-I-S-E. Prom… ice?”

Jack shook his head and leaned in, bringing a hand behind Joke’s neck to pull him in. Joke’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest as Jack brought their faces close.

“Close. It’s ‘promise,’” Jack murmured into the space between them.

“Promise.”

The only promises Joke was familiar with were broken ones. Promises from his parents to show up at his school events; promises from teachers to help him; promises he made to himself to just try harder, to be the son his parents wanted him to be.

“Like, I promise to help you with the proposal for the school. I promise to help you achieve your dream.”

Joke couldn’t speak. The closeness was suffocating in the best way. His breath caught in his chest. Jack’s hand was still on his neck, his fingers warm and calloused against Joke’s skin. He watched Jack’s eyes rove over his face, lingering on his mouth.

He could do it. He could lean in just a little bit more and press his lips to Jack’s. Joke wondered what they’d feel like; he thought they’d be soft, gentle, and then hard when Joke asked for it.

“You trust me, right?” Jack’s eyes were big and earnest, and Joke was getting lost in them.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts. Jack had just said he didn’t like Joke that way. Or at least he hadn’t meant it that way. It hadn’t been a confession, it was just Jack being helpful. Either way, Joke knew the answer to Jack’s question.

“I trust you.” It was the truth, and it scared Joke just how much he meant it.

The people milling outside the Queen Sirikit Convention Centre were dressed to the nines, scarcely giving a backwards glance as valets whisked their luxury cars away. Joke’s father had let Jack take one of the company’s high-end cars for the evening—a Porsche that Joke thought was entirely too ostentatious and expensive for how little they used it. Jack, of course, had been adorably excited to drive it, so Joke had kept his commentary to himself.

Jack let out a low whistle as they walked up the steps. “Damn, everyone here looks nice. I feel out of place; their suits probably cost more than I make in a month.”

“Don’t worry, they’re all looks and no substance. I would much rather be here with you than any one of them. And besides,” Joke paused, turning to look Jack up and down, “I think you look very handsome.”

Jack blushed a delightful shade of pink, and Joke winked at him. Jack’s hands made an aborted movement towards his pant legs, like he wanted to wipe them but thought better of it. It was a good thing, Joke thought, because he hadn’t been wrong—Jack’s suit did cost more than a month’s worth of his salary; Joke’s suit cost at least double that.

“No one here knows you work for my father, okay? At least, not in that way. Tonight, you can be an investor or accountant, hell, even IT—any one of those options will get you free drinks all night.”

“I am not getting drunk tonight,” Jack insisted as they made their way through the heavy glass doors. “I’m on the clock. And besides, who cares if they find out I’m your bodyguard? What I am to you is none of their business.”

God, when Jack said things like that, like everything was black and white and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, Joke wanted to kiss him. Joke almost always wanted to kiss him, to be fair, but sometimes it felt like it took a Herculean effort not to act on his wishes.

“You okay? You look like someone hit you over the back of the head.” Jack waved a hand in front of Joke’s face, effectively ending the fantasy he had gotten lost in.

“Yeah, no, I’m great. Sorry, got lost in thought for a second—Oh! There’s Top!”

“Phi!” Top threaded his way through the crowd, followed closely by his bodyguard, Tattoo.

Joke had seen Tattoo briefly on his first day back, but he remembered him more for walking in on him and Jack in the gym. Since Tattoo spent most of his time at school with Top, Joke hadn’t really had many opportunities to interact with the man, but Jack spoke of him fairly often. It was nice to know that Jack had someone outside of Joke to talk to, even if they weren’t exactly close friends.

“I’m so glad I found you.” Top sounded relieved, glancing around nervously. “There’s so many people here.”

“Next time, we’ll come together,” Joke promised.

Top wai ’d in Jack’s direction. “Hi, P’Jack.” 

Jack returned Top’s wai , a polite smile on his face. “Nice to see you, Khun Top.”

Joke blinked, confused, before remembering that of course Top and Jack had met before. Top had said as much on Joke’s first day back at the office when he told Joke he had delivered the notebook to Jack for him. With everything that had happened in the weeks since then, Joke had all but forgotten about the notebook. He told himself it didn’t matter now anyway—Jack might not remember him from the bar a year ago, but whatever they were building between them in the present was worth more to him than bringing up the past. Whether that turned out to be just friendship or something else remained to be seen, but Joke was willing to wait for the result.

“Top!” The shout came from a man Joke didn’t recognize. His features were pretty in a way that screamed money, his makeup tasteful, and his hair tousled in a styled way so as not to look too messy. He was exactly the type of person one would expect to run into at one of these events, and Joke felt the foolish urge to wrap his arm around Jack’s waist and keep his attention on him.

The man made his way over to the group, smiling. “I’m glad I got to see you before it started,” he said, looking around at the group. “I’m Aran. I go to school with Top.”

“This is my brother, Joke, and his bodyguard, Jack. You already know Tattoo, of course.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Aran wai ’d at Joke and Jack before nodding shyly in Tattoo’s direction. “Nice to see you again, Tattoo.”

“Phi, Aran’s father is the one hosting us tonight.” Ah, so this was the heir to the Jumlongkul family.

Joke wondered if Aran’s father was also skipping out on tonight in favour of literally anything else. The battles of fathers were so often fought by sons, even in the twenty-first century, on battlefields made of wealth and luxury.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m happy to see that Top is making friends.” Joke refused to play into the war their fathers were more than likely waging behind the scenes. He genuinely hoped that Aran was a friend to Top; god knows they didn’t get a lot of opportunities to have real friends.

Aran laughed softly, a practiced sound that Joke knew well. “Well, you know, kids with fathers like ours have to stick together. Why haven’t I seen you at one of these before?”

“Ah, I um—”

“Joke was away at school for the last year,” Top cut in. “Remember, we talked about how we both had relatives studying abroad last year?”

"Oh, right! I forgot, I'm sorry. Where did you study?" The question was polite, exactly the kind of small talk Joke had always hated.

"London Business School." The lie came easily; it was the story his father had told him to use if he was ever asked about his time away. Joke just hoped Aran didn't ask any more questions; his knowledge of London was limited to the two Paddington movies he had watched while he was away and a brief trip the family had taken when he was ten.

"What a coincidence! My cousin studied there last year too. Maybe you know him? His name is Carbon."

Joke racked his brain for any memory of that name from before he went away, when he had gone to other events such as these, but no one named Carbon stood out.

"Sorry, the name doesn't sound familiar. I didn't get out too much, too busy studying and such, you know how it is."

Aran nodded, his face opening up a bit more. "Oh, absolutely. Top makes it look easy, I feel like I'm barely treading water right now. I don’t know how this one does it."

“I’m sure that’s not true, Khun.” Four heads swivelled towards Tattoo, who flushed at the sudden attention.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” Aran demurred.

“I think you’re really smart, and um…” Tattoo lost steam, cracking under the pressure of everyone’s eyes on him.

Joke bit his lip and turned to Jack, relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one trying not to laugh at the situation unfolding before them. Jack was clenching his jaw so hard that Joke was surprised he couldn’t hear his teeth cracking under the force. When they made eye contact, Joke almost broke at the way Jack had to look away, covering his smile with a clenched fist.

“I think you’re… You’re really… You know…” Tattoo shrugged his shoulders helplessly, at a loss. Aran was failing to hide the amused look on his face behind a well-manicured hand, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Wow, look at the time,” Top interrupted, saving Tattoo from further embarrassment. “Aran, you must need to get ready, right? Should we find our seats?” Only then did Joke notice that the crowd had thinned, most people having made their way out of the lobby to the main room.

Aran slid his rich kid mask back into place, but the mirth didn’t leave his eyes as he clapped his hands and straightened his shoulders. “You’re absolutely right, thank you, Top. Have fun tonight,” he said, wai -ing to them all. “I’ll catch up with you after.” His gaze lingered on Tattoo as he turned to leave, and Joke watched Tattoo flush under it.

When Aran was safely out of earshot, Joke finally let out the laugh he had been holding in as Tattoo visibly deflated, swaying slightly.

“Dude. What the hell was that?” Jack didn’t even try to keep quiet, and honestly, Joke was grateful. He desperately wanted to hear Tattoo’s reason for making a fool of himself.

“I don’t know, man. He’s just… He’s so pretty. You know? I swear I keep my cool way better than that normally.” The look on Top’s face told a different story. Tattoo looked shell-shocked, and Joke couldn’t help but laugh.

“He’s very good looking, I’ll give you that,” Joke offered, still laughing.

“Is he? I don’t see it.” The forced nonchalance in Jack’s voice had Joke turning to look at him. Jack didn’t meet his eyes, but his cheeks had that pink flush to them that Joke absolutely adored.

“Don’t worry,” Joke reassured him, nudging Jack’s shoulder. “He’s not my type.” That had Jack peeking at him from under his eyelashes, suddenly shy.

“Phi, can we please stop talking about how attractive my friend is?” Top groaned, covering his ears.

“Sorry, sorry,” Joke laughed. “Come on, we don’t want to interrupt Aran’s speech. Tattoo might never recover from such a slight.”

“Shut up,” Tattoo mumbled. Joke saw Jack shoot him a look that had Tattoo straightening up, horrified. “Sorry, Khun Joke. I didn’t mean—”

“Please, it’s fine. I hate all those formalities, anyway.” Joke raised his eyebrows at Jack, willing him to take the hint and please, for the love of god, use his actual name.

Jack promptly ignored him and led the way to their seats. Joke thanked god that they were near the back of the room; the fewer eyes on him, the better. Not that he really thought people would notice him there—it wasn’t like he had been a big staple at these things in the past. He just wanted to be perceived as little as possible.

The crowd’s murmuring tapered off as Aran walked out onto the stage, his posture impeccable and his smile plastered on. He really was quite handsome; Joke understood why Tattoo got so flustered. Joke snuck a glance at Jack, sitting ramrod straight next to him. His hair was styled to look artfully messy, and there was still a hint of a blush high on his cheeks. Aran was handsome, sure, but he had nothing on Jack.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming to the fifth annual fundraising gala for World Animal Protection Thailand.” Joke feigned a cough to hide his snort of laughter and felt Jack’s shoulder shaking next to his. “The Jumlongkul family is happy to host you for the fifth year running. We have some great pieces up for grabs tonight, so get your chequebooks ready!”

Joke settled deeper into his seat, resigning himself to the boredom that always came with these events. At least this time, he had Jack and his brother to keep him company. These kinds of things always went the same way—the same people bidding on the same items, the prices exorbitant and frankly grotesque. These people bid more on a brooch than some people made in a couple months. It had never sat right with Joke, so he never bid on anything. His father didn’t really care either; he wasn’t interested in baubles and useless fluff. He was more interested in keeping up appearances, hence Joke—and now Top—being forced to attend galas, auctions, and fundraisers.

He succeeded in spacing out for the entire thing, his attention instead focused on the warmth of Jack’s shoulder pressed up against his own. He wondered what Jack made of all this. Joke hoped that Jack realized he wasn’t like these people, that Joke abhorred the lavish lifestyle he had been born into. There were some good things that came with having money—opening and running the school being a big one—but all the rest… Joke couldn’t care less about it. It’s not like it made anyone happy. They were all miserable, they just had shiny cars and expensive clothes to hide behind. No one looked beyond those things to see anyone’s true self, which had always pissed Joke off. Until Jack, of course. Jack had seen him.

The auction ended with a round of applause, Aran gracing the stage once more to thank everyone for their generosity and to direct them to the neighbouring room for some light refreshments. That was rich people speak for “go get wasted on some top-shelf liquor and try to forget how much money you just spent,” but Joke didn’t mind; alcohol was alcohol, and if he played his cards right, he wouldn’t have to pay for a single glass.

“Find us a table,” Joke practically shouted in Jack’s ear, the volume rising quickly as more and more people filed into the room and towards the bar. “I’ll get us drinks. What do you guys want?”

“You go ahead, Phi. I’m okay right now.” Top glanced at Tattoo, who was studying the crowd with a singular focus. “Besides, I don’t think Tattoo can think of anything as trivial as drinks until Aran is back in his arms.”

“Huh? What?” Tattoo didn’t stop surveying the crowd, craning his neck to see over everyone.

Top rolled his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh, waving Joke towards the bar.

Joke weaved between well-dressed couples and held back coughs at the cloud of perfume and cologne that hung in the air in front of the bar. He waited for the bartender’s attention to fall on him, leaning against the bartop as he did.

“What are you drinking tonight?” The question came from a man standing almost inappropriately close to Joke.

He had to fight back a smirk. Right on schedule. “Nothing yet,” Joke said coyly, letting his gaze wander slowly up the torso of the man next to him before taking in his face. He was dressed in a suit Joke knew was even more expensive than his, tailored to his every measurement. He was handsome, Joke could admit, but much like Aran and pretty much every other man here, he wasn’t Joke’s type.

Rich Guy raised an eyebrow, a flirtatious smile on his face. “Let me change that for you then.”

“So generous. I’ll take a whisky and a club soda for later.”

“You got it.” Rich Guy waved the bartender over and ordered, adding an extra whisky for himself.

Luckily, the drinks weren’t complicated, so Joke wasn’t stuck making awkward small talk while he waited. He could do it—there was a time not so long ago when he’d actually been pretty good at it. Good enough to at least get free drinks and one night with the person buying them. So, he could do small talk. Technically. He just didn’t want to, not anymore. There was nothing to get out of it, not when Joke looked back over his shoulder and saw Jack waiting for him. He’d be happy not making any small talk for the rest of his life if it meant keeping Jack by his side.

The bartender appeared and set the drinks on the bartop, turning away to serve the next group. Rich Guy handed Joke the drinks, leaning in closer than necessary. Joke knew what came next, and the man didn’t disappoint. “I haven’t seen you at one of these before,” he said, his fingers trailing down Joke’s arm slowly.

“No, you haven’t.” Joke smiled. “And I doubt you will again. Thanks for the drinks!” Joke raised both glasses at the man and turned to leave, ignoring whatever protest Rich Guy managed to get out before Joke was out of earshot.

He looked at where Jack sat waiting for him, his posture so straight and still, like he was afraid to wrinkle his suit. It didn’t matter, of course; Joke had purchased the suit outright for him. There was a primal part of him that reveled in Jack wearing something that Joke had purchased for him, like it was a signal to the rest of the world that Jack was his. Which was stupid, because no one knew Joke was the one who bought the suit. And Jack wasn’t his. But for a second, as Jack surveyed the crowd and found Joke in it, a smile lighting up his face, Joke imagined that he was.

“Where did Top run off to?” Joke asked as he approached the table and handed Jack his glass of club soda, looking for his brother.

“Thank you.” Jack took the glass from Joke, taking a long sip. “He and Aran said they were going to the bathroom. Tattoo went with them.”

Joke nodded, taking a sip of his whisky. He felt like he was being watched, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He looked around and saw the guy from the bar, now seated at a high table, staring at him.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I met a guy at the bar, and now he’s over there staring at me.”

Jack craned his neck, looking over his shoulder towards the bar area.

“See him? Chiseled jaw, floppy hair. Handsome, but not my type,” Joke teased, calling back to his remark from earlier.

“I see him,” Jack confirmed, subtly shifting so that Joke’s view of the man was obscured.

“What? Are you jealous?” Joke teased. “Next time, you can buy my drink for me, I promise.”

“He bought the drinks?” There was something in Jack’s voice that gave Joke pause and set butterflies of anxiety flying around his stomach.

“I mean, yeah, it’s not abnormal… I didn’t, like, really flirt with him or anything. I used him, more than anything. It didn’t mean anything.”

Jack remained silent. He set his drink on the table and took Joke’s out of his hand.

“Jack, it didn’t mean anything. I won’t do it again. I didn’t think it would upset you this much.” Joke’s insides roiled with fear. He hadn’t thought it was a big deal. It was just drinks. Jack had to know that he hadn’t meant anything by it. He couldn’t afford to fuck up, not again. Not now.

Clearly seeing Joke’s distress, Jack covered Joke’s shaking hand with one of his. “I’m not upset at you, I promise. I’m just being cautious.” Joke immediately relaxed at the feeling of Jack’s warm hand on his, the reassurance calming the thoughts racing through his mind.

“Cautious?” Joke eyed his drink. “Do you think he drugged them or something?”

Jack sighed. “I mean, probably not, but there’s always a chance. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t consider all the possibilities.”

“Right. Well, I won’t be taking drinks from anyone from now on.” Joke shuddered, thoroughly grossed out by the human race.

There was silence between them for a few seconds, Jack’s hand still resting on Joke’s. Joke didn’t move or speak for fear of Jack remembering it was there and moving it. If he was braver—if he had finished his drink—he might have twisted his wrist just enough to twine his fingers with Jack’s. He wondered if Jack would let him like he had the night before when Joke had his little breakdown on the couch.

“You remember those threats your father was talking about on your first day back?” Jack’s words succeeded in drawing Joke’s attention away from their hands, Joke’s fingers twitching slightly under Jack’s.

“Yes… I mean, kind of?” Joke’s father had briefly mentioned them in the car on the way back to the city as well, but Joke hadn’t been paying much attention. Frankly, he hadn’t thought such a thing would concern him, but apparently he had been wrong.

“I’m realizing now I never actually debriefed you on them.” Jack sounded guilty.

“I’m pretty sure I distracted you, so it’s not your fault. Besides, no time like the present, right?”

“They started about a year ago,” Jack said, scanning the room over Joke’s head. “Threatening letters, nasty emails—the usual.”

Joke didn’t think any of that sounded particularly usual, but he kept his mouth shut. What did he know about the shady politics of mega-businesses, anyway?

“It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, so the course of action at the time was to ignore it. Recently, though, things have… escalated.” Jack’s gaze fell to the table, his thumb absentmindedly sweeping back and forth across the thin skin of the back of Joke’s hand.

Joke sat a little straighter in his chair, pushing the butterflies in his stomach down. “Escalated? Escalated how?”

Jack heaved a sigh, his face resigned when he looked back at Joke. “About a month ago, an armed man was found waiting outside Top’s classroom.”

Joke’s blood ran cold. “What? He didn’t say anything—Oh my god, was he hurt?” Had Joke been so absorbed in his own shit that he had failed to notice his baby brother was injured?

“He wasn’t hurt, no. A teacher called security before anything happened.” Jack continued brushing his thumb along the back of Joke’s hand in a soothing motion that sent a shiver down Joke’s spine. “An initial investigation found a team of people, likely from a competing company, who are actively making threats against your father’s company, and by extension, the family.”

“A team of people? How many?”

Jack winced. “We don’t actually know. But that guy over there could be one of them.”

Joke peeked around Jack, his stomach dropping when he saw the guy from the bar talking to another man and nodding towards the exit of the ballroom.

“He’s talking to someone else. The other guy is heading towards the exit. Do you think he’s going after Top?” Joke could feel his heart rate speed up, his imagination showing him all sorts of horrible things happening to his brother.

"Hey, look at me.” Jack wrapped Joke’s hand in his, centering him. “It could be nothing, and besides, Tattoo is with him.” Jack’s voice was calm, soothing. “I’ll go check it out, but I want you to stay here, okay? Find a big group of people and don't let anyone separate you from them, got it?"

"Are you insane? They're going after my brother—I'm coming with you."

"We don’t know that for sure, and if they are, you absolutely are not coming with me." Jack's voice turned firm, his face serious.

"Try to stop me then." Joke stood and stared down at Jack, daring him to stop him.

"Khun, if anything happens to you—"

"Don't worry, Jack, you won't lose your job over me. I'll be careful." Why were they still standing around talking about it? They needed to get going. Who knew what might happen if they were too late.

"It's not the job I'm worried about," Jack muttered, so low that Joke almost didn't hear it. He sighed resignedly, his mind seemingly made up. "Okay, but don't do anything stupid. No heroics, got it?"

Joke scoffed. "Heroics aren't exactly in my nature."

Jack gave him a strange look, like he was going to argue before thinking better of it.

They left the main room, heading back out to the foyer. It was mostly empty, a few people milling about in small groups, but no sign of Top, Aran, and Tattoo—or the guy from the auction room.

Jack paused, his head swiveling left and right.

"You don't know where the bathrooms are, do you?"

"I... It's a big place, I don't remember... No. No, I don't know where the bathrooms are."

"Look who's in charge now. Follow me."

"You should stay behind me," Jack protested, following Joke closely.

"You don't know where you're going, and besides, anyone could come up behind us. This feels much safer to me." Joke could practically hear Jack's eyes rolling in his head.

Joke led them up the stairs and down the hall to where he knew the bathrooms were. This wasn't his first time in this building, and he was sure it wouldn't be his last. Well, at least he hoped it wouldn't be. He really didn’t want to die at a charity auction.

The two of them crept down the hall, listening for any signs of commotion. It was almost eerily silent, which only made Joke more nervous. Were they going to be too late? Dread pooled in his stomach at the thought of his brother scared, hurt... or worse.

Joke pulled up short as they rounded the corner. The man from downstairs was in front of them, standing outside the bathroom door. Joke watched as the man reached for something inside his jacket, panic coursing through him. He didn't think, he just acted. He ran as silently as he could down the hall, Jack's whispered curse and footsteps following him.

Joke saw the bathroom door open, and Tattoo emerged, followed by Aran. They were talking. Tattoo was turned towards Aran, not paying attention. The man drew his hand from inside his jacket, and Joke's heart dropped. He was too far away. There wasn’t anything he could do but shout a warning.

"Watch out!"

Tattoo's head snapped forward as the man raised his hand towards him and Aran. There wasn’t time for Tattoo to do much more than push Aran behind him. He spun, pinning Aran to the wall and covering his body with his own.

Joke’s footsteps faltered as he braced for a gunshot and a spray of blood, but none came. In his hesitancy, Jack caught up to him and pushed past him, tackling the man to the ground.

The door to the bathroom opened again, and Joke changed course, rushing to it and pushing it closed to a muffled “ow!”

“Stay in there, Top!” Jack had the man pinned to the ground, but Joke wasn’t taking any chances.

"What the hell, man?" The man’s face was pressed into the carpet, but Joke could make out the anger in his voice just fine.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” Jack allowed the man to turn his face so he could answer, but Joke imagined that the knee pressing into the man’s back had to hurt.

"My name is First Suwannathat! I'm a photographer. I work for the Maya Channel Magazine. You can check my credentials, I have them on me!"

A photographer? Joke walked over and wrestled the man’s clenched fist open. In it was a simple black iPhone, the camera app open and recording.

"What?" Aran's head poked out from behind Tattoo, his face red. "You again?"

Tattoo spoke up, only moving enough to give Aran space to breathe. "You know this asshole?"

"He's been harassing me for weeks now," Aran spat out, his face furious. "You're following me to the bathroom now? What the fuck is your problem?"

"Listen, I just go to where the story is.”

Aran’s face flushed an angry red, and Joke was sure that if Tattoo wasn’t still standing in front of him, he would have rushed the guy.

“The story? What story is there to be found in a gala washroom?” Tattoo kept a firm grip on Aran as he turned his attention to the man—First—on the ground.

“You’re not paying me, so I’m not telling you. Think you can let me up now? I'm not trying to kill anyone, I'm just doing my job."

“Fuck you, you can stay down there,” Aran hissed, struggling against Tattoo’s hold.

"Hey, guys?" Top's muffled voice came through the bathroom door. "Can I come out now?"

Joke rushed to the door and threw it open, grabbing his brother and pulling him into his arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Phi, I’m fine. Literally nothing happened.”

“You don’t think this is overkill?” Five heads swivelled to the man still lying prone on the ground under Jack’s knee.

“Shut up, you’re fine.” Jack got up, dragging the man with him. “Go find your boss and tell him you didn’t get anything worth publishing. And if I see you again...” Jack levelled the man with an icy stare, his height accentuated as the man shrank down under Jack’s gaze.

“You got it.”

“And this”—Tattoo snatched the man’s phone from his hand—“stays with us.”

“You can’t just—”

“Ah ah. I think you’ll find we can, actually.”

The photographer gave one last look around at the five of them and resigned himself to his fate. With a string of muttered curses, he left, heading back the way they had come.

Joke busied himself with checking Top over, despite his loud protests that he was absolutely fine.

“Phi, if you pat me down one more time—”

“Okay, okay. I’ve deemed you unharmed.”

“Well, thank god for that,” Top muttered, flattening his hair where Joke had mussed it. “I think that was enough excitement for one night. I don’t know about you guys, but I want to go home. Aran, do you have anything else you need to do here?”

“No, my symbolic gesture has been satisfied. And honestly, even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t care. After that”—Aran gestured in the direction the photographer had gone—“I just want to sleep.” He looked up at Tattoo with a small smile on his face. “Thank you, by the way.”

Tattoo’s face grew red, and he sheepishly rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I was just doing my job.”

“Pretty sure your job is protecting Khun Top, not Khun Aran,” Jack teased, nudging Tattoo with his shoulder.

Tattoo swatted him away, his face growing impossibly redder.

“Well, I appreciate it nonetheless,” Aran said softly. He and Tattoo stared at each other long enough for Joke to clear his throat, feeling like a voyeur. They both snapped out of it at the same time with twin shakes of their heads. “I hope to see you around,” Aran mumbled, his face glowing red to match Tattoo’s. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“Do you want an escort home?” Tattoo blurted out. “I mean, just in case that guy is still hanging around?”

Aran’s face grew hopeful.

“Tattoo…” Jack’s voice was a warning.

Joke needed to step in before Jack ruined this, frankly, precious moment. “It’s okay, Jack. We’ll take Top home with us. It’s been too long since I’ve had a sleepover with my baby brother.” Mostly, Joke wanted whatever was brewing between Tattoo and Aran to develop further. He made a mental note to ask Top to invite Aran to more things, purely for the entertainment value of watching Tattoo flounder around him.

“Have we ever had a sleepover?”

Joke wrapped his arm around Top’s shoulder and pulled him in close, his voice overly cheery when he said, “Well, there’s a first time for everything!”

Tattoo gave Jack a pleading look, who sighed heavily. He was going to relent, Joke could tell.

“Fine,” Jack said wearily. “But you better be back at your post tomorrow morning. Got it?”

“Absolutely.” Tattoo nodded frantically, his lips stretching into a smile. “Nothing is going to happen, I just want to make sure Khun Aran gets home safely.”

“Right,” Jack drawled, skeptical. “We’ll keep this between us, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Jack. Khun, lead the way.”

Joke watched them go, their shoulders bumping as they walked. They were cute together, he decided. He looked forward to watching them figure their shit out.

“So, a sleepover, Phi?”

“Why not? I’m sure Por will be thrilled to hear that we’re hanging out.” Joke actually doubted that very much. He sometimes got the impression that their father kept them apart and pitted them against each other on purpose. All the more reason for a sleepover then, just to piss him off.

Top looked like he also didn’t believe Joke’s words, but he didn’t argue. “Whatever you say.”

The three of them stood in the living room, inspecting the couch situation. It wasn’t a big couch, more of a loveseat than anything.

“You don’t have any extra blankets? Pillows? Anything?”

“I did! And then Jack moved in, and now they’re his blankets and pillows.” Joke chewed on his lip in thought. The solution was simple, really: he and Top could just share a bed. “We can just—”

“Khun, take my bed. I’ll sleep out here.”

Joke didn’t know why he was surprised. 

Top shook his head, moving towards the couch in question. “I don’t want to kick you out of your bed, P’Jack. I can sleep out here, it’s totally fine.”

“I’m a guest here, it’s not really my bed.” Joke’s head whipped around at Jack’s words. That was not true. He wasn’t a guest. Not anymore. “I just washed the sheets, so they’re clean and ready for you.”

Joke was offended. They’d been living together for weeks now. They had routines—it was all very domestic. The apartment felt like their home to Joke, so he had never considered the fact that maybe Jack didn’t feel the same way. At any rate, if Jack thought he was going to sleep out on the couch like a guest , he was sorely mistaken. 

“Jack can share with me.”

Deafening silence met his words, and Joke fought not to squirm as twin gazes turned on him.

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Top quickly. “Khun, I don’t know if that’s entirely professional.”

“Oh, please. Who’s going to tell? It’s one night, and you deserve to sleep in an actual bed, not some uncomfortable couch with no blankets.”

Jack glanced at Top, who just shrugged and nodded in response. “Fine,” he sighed. “But if you hog the covers, I’m not making you breakfast in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Joke teased, pushing Jack towards his room before he could change his mind. “See you in the morning, Nong.”

“Sweet dreams, you two.” There was a note to Top’s voice that almost had Joke turning around, but then Jack opened the door to his room, and the reality of the situation he had just put them in slammed into him.

Joke had never had a boy in his room before. He always insisted his past hookups take him to a hotel, if they even made it out of the bar. He was seeing his room in a whole new light—was it too messy? Too clean? Was it possible for a room to be too clean? Would Jack think he didn’t have any personality? Did it smell funny in here, or was that his imagination? Oh god, he was panicking.

“You have a queen bed? I only have a double.” Jack had walked further into the room and was inspecting the bed, completely oblivious to the crisis unfolding in Joke’s mind.

“Yeah, well, take it up with my father. I didn’t buy this bed. Or yours.”

Jack laughed. “I’d rather sleep outside than bring up anything about our living situation to your father.”

“Fair point. Okay, I’ll take the bathroom first—Oh. I just realized your pajamas are in your room, um… I’m sure I have something that will fit you.” Joke started towards his dresser, but Jack’s hand on his arm gave him pause.

"It's okay, I usually sleep in my boxers anyway." Jack said it so casually, like that tidbit of information was no big deal, when in fact, Joke's body was reacting to it like it was the biggest deal.

"Oh, yeah. No, for sure. That—That makes sense. That's good. Comfy." Was the AC in his room broken? It suddenly felt suffocatingly hot.

"Are you okay? You look like you're gonna combust."

"I'm fine! Totally fine! I'm just gonna um... I have to brush my teeth. I'm gonna go... do that. Okay."

"Okay, you do that.” Was Jack smirking? The bastard.

Joke managed not to slam the door to the bathroom, but it was a near thing. His nerves felt like they were on fire. He splashed water on his face, willing himself to calm down. This was fine. Completely fine! He had a big bed; they wouldn't even need to touch each other.

He continued this mantra as he brushed his teeth and applied deodorant. Checking his reflection in the mirror, Joke acknowledged that he looked good. He thought Jack would agree—not that it mattered. That’s not what was happening here. Joke brushed his teeth one more time, just in case, before deciding he had spent too long in the bathroom and he couldn’t hide any longer.

When Joke walked back into the bedroom, Jack was sitting topless on the edge of the bed.

Holy shit.

Joke had seen Jack topless briefly the first time they had self-defence training, and he had lived off that image for weeks now, but seeing the long lines of Jack’s body in his space, sitting on his bed —that was almost too much.

Joke barely acknowledged him, quickly undressing and changing into his pajama shirt before crawling into bed. Did Jack watch him change? Was it weird that Joke wanted him to? 

While Jack did bathroom things, Joke meditated. Or, at least, he tried to meditate. Images of Jack's toned torso kept creeping in, the exact thing he didn't want to be thinking about right now. How would it feel, he wondered, pressed up against his side, sleep-warm and soft?

The sound of the bathroom door opening made Joke jump. He lay as still as possible as Jack turned the light out and quietly climbed into bed, his movements shifting the mattress and pulling at the comforter.

“Thank you for letting me stay here with you.”

There was something about hearing Jack’s soft voice in the still darkness of his room that had Joke’s mouth running dry.

“Anytime. This is your home too, you’re welcome to every part of it.” Joke’s pulse thundered in his head. Could Jack hear it? Did he know the effect he was having on him?

"That’s… Thank you.”

Joke hummed, every fibre of his body taut. He doubted he’d fall asleep anytime soon and resigned himself to being absolutely exhausted the next day.

“Goodnight." Jack's voice was so quiet, almost a whisper, but he was so close that it echoed like a shout in Joke’s ear.

“Goodnight,” Joke whispered back.

Joke listened to Jack’s breaths slow and even out, the sound lulling him to sleep against all odds. The last thing he felt before falling into unconsciousness was Jack’s fingers gripping the hem of his shirt, his knuckles brushing the skin of Joke’s hipbone. He covered Jack’s hand with his own, holding on as sleep took him.

Chapter Text

He didn’t sneak away again. Not like last time when he’d woken up on Joke’s chest on the couch. This time, Jack didn’t think he could make himself move, even if he wanted to. Joke was so warm, his breaths steady in Jack’s ear… it was peaceful. Jack found himself getting lulled into that in-between space—not quite asleep, but not fully awake, either. He was content to stay there, listening to the slow rhythm of Joke’s breathing.

Sometime in the night, their legs had tangled together, and Jack’s hand had crept underneath Joke’s shirt. He kept it there, resting lightly on Joke’s abdomen. There was a faint voice in the back of his head telling him to move, to flee, but he couldn’t bring himself to listen to it. So much of his energy went to ignoring the way he felt around Joke that in the quiet of his bedroom, Jack gave in and accepted that he was a weak man wherever Joke was concerned.

His mind wandered as his hand stayed still. He imagined tracing his fingers up, up past the hard lines of Joke’s torso, past his pecs, over his collarbone. Jack knew Joke was built—the cut of his suits and the way his worn sweaters strained over his shoulders were proof enough of that. But knowing and seeing were two different things. 

Jack had gotten a real glimpse of Joke’s body the night before while he sat on the bed, trying and failing not to sneak peeks as Joke rushed through changing into his pajamas. He had felt a bit like a voyeur, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

Joke was attractive, there was no denying it. Clearly other people thought so, judging by the free drinks he had scored at the auction. Joke had asked if he was jealous, and Jack had hidden behind the excuse of work, which wasn’t completely made up—in a setting like that, both he and Joke needed to be more careful. But yes, there had been a part of him, bigger than he’d like to admit, that had been jealous. He had been watching Joke talk to the man, had watched the man lean in far too close, and he had been jealous.

But Joke wasn’t his. Not in that way… not in any way, really, but he had been so envious of the easy-going interaction between Joke and the other guy that for a second, he had imagined walking over and putting his arm around Joke’s waist. Pulling him close, so close that no one could mistake him for being available. For being anyone but Jack’s.

Jack’s fingers shook where they still rested on Joke’s abs, moving with each of his breaths. He needed to get a grip. He needed to stop getting so jealous, he needed to stop thinking about Joke that way, he needed to—

Fuck.

Heat pooled low in Jack’s belly, and he realized, far too belatedly, that he was hard.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He needed to get out of this bed. He needed to extract himself from Joke without disturbing him—if he woke up to Jack’s current… predicament, Jack didn’t think he’d be able to live it down. He’d have to throw himself out the window, his fear of heights be damned.

Moving painfully slowly, Jack shifted his legs out from between Joke’s, barely managing to hold back his whimper as he brushed up against Joke’s hip in the process. He stole his hand back, his calluses catching on the soft skin above Joke’s waistband. He really needed to be anywhere but here.

Just as Jack managed to carefully lift the blankets and roll silently out of the bed, he heard the shower in the main bathroom turn on, reminding him of why he was sleeping in Joke’s bed in the first place. Top was out there, getting ready for the day. Which meant that really, Jack should have already been up and making breakfast; his entire morning had been derailed thanks to his stupid hormones and Joke’s stupid, warm, toned, soft skin.

Goddammit.

He fled to Joke’s bathroom instead, sparing one last glance to make sure he was still sleeping. Jack paused in the middle of opening the creaky bathroom door, horrified that Joke was going to blink his eyes open and catch him, but Joke only shifted, just enough to bury his face in the pillow Jack had been using and sigh contentedly. Letting out a sigh of his own, Jack backed into the bathroom, slowly and softly closing the door behind him.

The ordeal of getting out of bed hadn’t done much to calm him down—if anything, seeing Joke nuzzle into his pillow had made things worse, a primal, idiotic part of him preening at the behaviour. What the hell was wrong with him?

The cold spray of the shower hit him in the face as Jack climbed in, not even waiting for the water to get lukewarm. A cold shower was all he deserved, anyway. He was acting like a horny teenager, for crying out loud. It was embarrassing. Jack stood under the icy water and willed his hard-on to disappear. He thought about anything but Joke: dinner at Ama’s house; loan sharks; bartending; cute bar patrons; boys with floppy hair and big, brown eyes; dimples and strong hands. Strong hands touching him, tracing down his chest and over his stomach, down down down—

The tile wall of the shower met the back of Jack’s head painfully as he leaned back, closing his hand around himself. He brought his free hand to his mouth, biting into the meat of his palm to keep from making too much noise. Choked back moans and barely concealed whimpers rose in Jack’s throat as he worked himself closer to the edge. The lingering scent of Joke’s bodywash, that intoxicating sandalwood and vanilla blend, had Jack’s head swimming. It was all too easy to imagine it was Joke’s hand stroking him; Joke’s hand pressing against his mouth, keeping him quiet.

Jack could practically hear Joke’s voice in his ear: Let go, Jack. That’s it, I’ve got you. Say my name, Jack. Tell me who makes you feel this good.

“Joke,” Jack gasped, his hand falling away from his mouth to steady himself against the wall as he came, shaking through his orgasm. His knees buckled and his hearing shorted out, the only sound in his ears was his own thundering heartbeat. The water washed over him, rinsing away the evidence of his indiscretions but not his shame. What kind of person was he, getting off to his charge in the man’s own shower while said man slept not ten feet away?

Jack needed to pull himself together. He needed an outlet for this, someone to talk to, to help him work through his feelings and hopefully talk him down from the ledge he had climbed onto. Trouble was, who could he possibly talk to about this? He would rather die than talk to his Ama about his attraction to Joke. He didn’t really have any friends, besides Save, Hope, and Tattoo, and they were all too close to the situation anyway. But he felt like he was going insane; this wasn’t sustainable.

By the time he actually washed up and turned the shower off, Jack had come to a decision.

He tiptoed out of the bathroom and grabbed his phone off the bedside table before sneaking back to his room. Top was puttering around the kitchen when he passed by, and Jack slipped by without him seeing. It wouldn’t do to have Joke’s little brother catch him sneaking out of Joke’s room wearing nothing but a towel, regardless of the fact that nothing had happened between them.

Tattoo and Save’s numbers were the only ones in Jack’s phone—Hope had laughed when Jack had asked him for his contact information. Jack didn’t want to interrupt whatever might be happening between Tattoo and Aran, so he opted to text Save, knowing that Hope would inevitably be included by proxy anyway.

Hey

Do you have time to talk today?

Who is this?

Jack stared at his phone for a second, wondering how best to back out of whatever plan he had come up with, when a new text came through.

I’m just kidding.

Of course I have time.

Khun Khongsuk is out of office today, so we have the day off. Wanna play hooky for a bits?

Sure. Lemme just drop Joke off at the office.

Jack realized his mistake too late, Save’s reply popping up before he could edit his message.

Interesting.

That’s the second time you’ve done that now.

Shit. Jack sighed, resigning himself to his fate.

That’s what I wanna talk about.

Three dots popped up as Save typed, Jack's heartrate spiking in time with the animation.

Say less.

We’ll see you in a bit.

“So, that’s it. That’s everything.”

Jack had just spent the last hour regaling Save and Hope with the details of his and Joke’s history, up to and including sleeping in the same bed. He had left out the part about him masturbating in Joke’s shower because, frankly, some things didn’t need to be shared.

His friends sat on the couch opposite him, looking at him silently before exchanging a glance. Hope shrugged and raised an eyebrow, which Save answered with a nod. They frequently communicated without speaking; it was unnerving.

“Well… Thank you for telling us, Jack. It means a lot that you trust us with this information.”

“I knew there was something going on between you two,” Hope blurted out, leaning back into the couch cushions. “You talk about him all the time, it’s exhausting.”

“Were you not listening? There isn’t anything going on between us.”

Hope levelled him with a look that could only be described as fed up. “Jack. Come on.”

“There’s not—”

Hope threw his hands up, exasperated. “Oh my god, you two are emotionally edging each other!”

Jack spluttered, his face heating up. “We are not—that is not what’s happening!” He looked to Save for help, who only nodded his head.

“He’s right, Jack. I haven’t seen this much ‘will they, won’t they’ since Hope was working up the courage to ask me out.”

“Hey!”

“Hush, you know I’m right. But Jack, that isn’t even the biggest issue here. You haven’t spoken to him about the letters? Like… at all?”

Jack squirmed under their scrutiny. “What is there to talk about? He asked me to write, I wrote, he never answered. And now I’m working for his father, and he is my literal job—what am I supposed to do with that?

Save stared at him for a moment, slack-jawed. “Talk to him! Are you kidding me? You’ve just, what? Decided that Khun Joke is an idiot? Do you think he doesn’t remember you?”

Jack’s face burned with shame. “No, I… He remembers me. I know he remembers me.”

His confession was met with loaded silence. He dropped his eyes to his hands, afraid of what he would see on his friends’ faces.

“Jack…”

“I didn’t think—he never wrote to me! I thought he had forgotten me. Who was I to him, anyway? Some guy he met in a seedy bar on the edge of town who entertained him and made him forget his wealth and privilege for a couple hours? He spent a night slumming it with me. I was a distraction for him. Why would he remember me? I was nothing to him. No one.”

“Jack. Be honest with me. With yourself. Do you think the Khun Joke—no, the Joke —you know ever saw you as just a distraction? As a nobody?”

No.

Even back then, Jack had known that Joke was interested in him. Joke wore his emotions on his face, no matter how much he might like to think he was mysterious and brooding. Jack had seen the way Joke’s face opened more and more the longer they talked, and the way his eyes lit up with excitement as the night wore on. Joke had listened to Jack in a way no one else had before, and there was a moment at the end of the night, right before they went their separate ways, when Jack had been certain Joke was going to kiss him.

Jack had been an anonymous bartender to plenty of people who wanted to drown their sorrows and commiserate with a stranger for as long as it took them to finish their overpriced drinks, but no one had treated him like Joke had. Like they saw him. Like they thought he mattered.

There was a rushing sound in Jack’s ears. He could feel his fingernails digging crescents into his palms as he clenched his fists.

“He… He’s the heir to his father’s company. He’s absurdly wealthy. He gets invited to galas and charity auctions where people just piss their money away. He has rich guys falling over themselves to buy him drinks and take him home with them. He disappeared for a year after telling me to write to him. I worried about him, and he was just gone, and then he just showed up again, and what? He expects us to just go back to what we were? We weren’t anything! He—”

He let Jack feel at home in his apartment. He volunteered at a school in one of the poor districts of the city. He wanted his father to invest in the school to give the students a better chance at success. He let his brother stay at his apartment so Tattoo and Aran could be alone. He let Jack share his bed. He didn’t hook up with that guy at the auction. He came back to Jack after a year with sad eyes that pleaded with Jack to remember him, and Jack ignored him. Jack pretended he was the one who didn’t remember, that he was unaffected by Joke and the night they had shared.

“Jack?” Save’s voice broke through Jack’s spiralling thoughts.

“Sorry,” Jack said, his voice breaking.

“I don’t think it’s us you should be apologizing to,” Save said gently, his hand rubbing circles on Jack’s back.

“How am I going to explain this to him? What am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry I pretended I didn’t know you. I assumed you ran away and never wanted to hear from me again?’”

“You could start with that, yeah. Give him a chance to explain himself—I’m sure he had a good reason for not answering you.”

“He’s gonna be so mad,” Jack groaned, dropping his head into his hands. He wouldn’t blame Joke for being angry with him. It was deserved.

Save nodded. “Probably. But you won’t know what comes after the anger if you don’t talk to him.”

“And what if he forgives me? What then?”

“Then… you move forward. With whatever this is. Whatever you want it to be.”

“There will be obstacles. Big ones,” Jack murmured, glancing at Hope next to him. “Khun Khongsuk being the biggest one.”

Hope raised his hands in front of himself. “Your life is your life, dude,” he said, the most earnest Jack had ever heard him. “It’s not my business, and it sure as hell isn’t Khun Khongsuk’s.”

“If you remember, Jack, we have our own secret we’re keeping from him,” Save reminded him gently. “If you think either of us would tell him anything, you don’t know us at all.”

“Right, of course. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me.”

Hope shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing to be mistrustful, especially in our line of work.”

“Thank you. For listening and the advice. For being cool about this.” Jack had never been one to play the odds; he much preferred to think logically and rationally, but this had been a gamble for him. One that had thankfully paid off.

“Anytime. And I mean that, Jack. You have friends in us, as well as allies. I hope you know that.”

Jack looked between Save and Hope, the two people who understood the potential complications of this better than anyone, and it hit him that these were his friends. Not just his colleagues, but people who cared.

It was nice—having friends to lean on. He could get used to it, he realized. Friendship. Community.

Belonging.

“I do. Now, anyway,” he added, sheepish. “Promise.”

xxXxx

Jack was waiting for him in the lobby at the end of the day, just like always. Maybe Joke should have been embarrassed by the thrill that went through him every time Jack was there to collect him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. It was a small joy at the end of a long day, and he’d be damned if he let himself feel bad about it.

“Hey!” The happiness was evident in Joke’s voice, and he only felt more elated when he saw Jack’s answering smile tugging at his lips, like he didn’t even mean for it to happen. Like he felt the same kind of uncontrollable happiness when he saw Joke. “How was your appointment earlier?”

Jack’s smile fell just a little. “Oh, it was fine. Just routine stuff, but I’m all good.”

“Glad to hear it. The Khongsuk Corporation can’t have you operating at less than optimal levels,” Joke teased. He chose to ignore the sour expression on Jack’s face, chalking it up to whatever appointment he’d had to make so last minute. He wanted to ask more questions, make sure Jack was actually okay, but he didn’t want to pry. He knew they weren’t exactly at that level of friendship yet, and he would hate to be a nuisance.

“Don’t worry, I’m operating above average in all areas.”

Joke blushed. God, he needed to get his head out of the gutter. Spending the night next to Jack hadn’t exactly helped matters either; Joke had woken up with the strongest case of morning wood in probably his whole life. Thank god Jack had already been out in the kitchen making breakfast, leaving Joke free to spend the next several minutes in the shower biting his lip to keep from saying Jack’s name as he got himself off.

Clearing his throat, Joke cleared his head and changed the topic; the last thing he wanted was to get into an embarrassing situation in the office lobby. “I wanted to visit the school this evening, do you want to join me?” He hoped Jack couldn’t hear the slight shakiness in his voice.

“Absolutely!” Jack exclaimed, taking the bait. His face lit up again, any earlier unease forgotten. “I promised Toi Ting I’d read her another book the next time I saw her.”

“That girl is serious about her promises,” Joke warned. “You best not break them.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

If anyone had told Joke two weeks ago he’d be willingly poring over what was essentially homework in his free time, he would have laughed in their face. But the investor meeting was in one week, and he needed to be ready.

His father had been impressed with the summary Joke had provided of his notes, which only fuelled his desire to blow the investors out of the water. He hadn’t told his father about his proposal; he wanted it to be a surprise. He wanted to prove to his father that he could do this, that he could take initiative and actually succeed. So, to that end, here Joke was, spending his evening studying.

His current mission was to get through the workbook Jack had rush ordered for him. It was meant to help people with dyslexia, and it was still a challenge to get through, but it was much easier to comprehend than literally anything else he had tried, so Joke wasn’t going to give up on it.

Besides, he didn’t want to interrupt their quiet evening in. There was something so domestic about him sitting at the kitchen table doing work while Jack reclined on the couch reading. It was comfortable, homey. It felt precious to him, safe in a way his home had never been growing up.

“I was thinking,” Jack piped up, breaking the silence. “You’ve taken me to visit the school twice now.”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna have to drag you back there a third time. You didn’t finish the book; Toi Ting won’t let that stand.”

Jack chuckled, his face fond. “She reminds me of you, I swear she could be your kid. She’s so feisty, I love her. ”

Joke’s breath caught in his throat. Jack had developed a habit of saying things like that so casually, not realizing the way his words made Joke’s world tilt on its axis. To hear ‘love’ used when talking about him, the way the word sounded in Jack’s voice… Joke wanted to hear it every day, forever.

“And I wouldn’t say you have to drag me, I am happy to visit anytime,” Jack continued, completely oblivious to Joke’s unfolding crisis.

“I know,” Joke murmured. “And I think I might love you for it.”

“Hmm?” Jack looked up from his book, right into Joke’s wide, panicked eyes.

“Nothing, sorry,” he said hastily, covering his slip-up. “You were saying?”

“Right. I was thinking I’d like to take you to my Ama’s house.”

“Your…?”

“My grandma. She lives close to the school actually, so we could hit up the school and her house in one evening.”

“You… you want to take me to meet your grandma? Are you serious?” There was no way Jack was serious. Meeting family was a huge deal, or at least that’s what Joke had been led to believe by all the romcoms he had consumed over the past two decades.

“Yeah, of course. Unless that’s like… crossing a line or something?”

Frankly, Joke could do with them crossing a few more lines, but he would take whatever Jack was willing to offer.

“No! I would love to! Should I bring anything? People bring wine, should I bring wine? Does she like wine? Does she drink? I could make something, what should I make? I don’t know how to make anything. I can buy something!”

Jack held his hands up, laughing. “You don’t need to bring anything. If anything, you’ll leave with more than you came with.”

Jack’s grandmother’s house was small, nestled between two bigger, taller buildings, making it seem even tinier than it was. Joke climbed out of the car, grateful that his everyday car was more lowkey than some of the other ones in his family’s possession. This was not a neighbourhood he wanted to flaunt his wealth in. It reminded him of where he’d met Jack: a bit rundown with small, cramped houses lining narrow streets and alleyways. It was a place his father wouldn’t be caught dead in, and that gave Joke a sick sense of comfort.

“I’m just warning you now,” Jack said as they approached the open front door, “she’s going to try to feed you. It’s her love language, but you can decline anything you don’t want.”

“Love language? She doesn’t know me.” There was that word again, being tossed around like it didn’t mean the world to Joke to hear it.

“That’s never stopped her before. You should have seen her the first time I brought Tattoo over; he left ten pounds heavier and happier than I’d ever seen him.”

Joke laughed nervously. He didn’t know much about Jack’s past, but he remembered him mentioning that his parents died when he was a kid. His grandma raised him and was the most important person in his life; Joke felt like throwing up from the nerves churning his stomach. He was suddenly very aware of his body and wished he had brought a gift, if only to have something to occupy his hands. Joke opted for shoving them in his pockets, earning a chuckle from Jack.

“What?” Joke sounded as manic as he felt.

“I’ve seen you run towards a guy you thought was armed and not look this nervous.”

“This is important, Jack! This is your family, I want her to like me.” Joke took his hands out of his pockets and wiped them on his pants. Oh good, now Jack’s mannerisms were wearing off on Joke. Would his grandma notice? Would she read into it? Did Joke want her to?

“Hey. Breathe. She’s going to like you, don’t worry. Come on.” Jack put his hand on Joke’s back, leading him through the doorway.

The smell of food hit Joke in the face, making his mouth water. He hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, too nervous to stomach anything, and he was paying for it now.

“Ama!” Jack called, heading towards what Joke assumed was the kitchen. “We’re here!”

“Oh! Is that my favourite grandson?”

“I’m your only grandson,” Jack muttered, rolling his eyes fondly. “Yes, Ama!” He said a little louder.

A tiny, grey-haired bundle of energy came barrelling out of the kitchen, grabbing Jack into a fierce hug.

“Are you sure you’re eating properly over there? You feel much too skinny,” she declared, stepping back from Jack to give him a once-over.

Jack laughed, swatting at her hand as she pinched his cheek. “I promise they feed me, Ama, stop fussing!”

“I’m your grandmother, it’s my job to fuss,” she sniffed, indignant. 

Joke watched the scene unfolding before him with a sense of nostalgia for something he’d never had. He wondered what it would have been like to grow up with grandparents, with someone to worry about him like that.

Jack’s grandmother tutted once more before setting her sights on where Joke stood by the door, trying to take up as little space as possible. “Oh! You must be Joke!”

Joke didn’t have time to brace before he, too, was swept into a hug. He hesitated before returning the gesture; he couldn’t remember the last time his parents hugged him. Jack’s grandma was tiny, tiny enough that he could easily look over her head at where Jack was leaning against the wall, smiling at them.

“Thank you so much for letting me come over, Khun Yai,” Joke said when he was finally released.

“Please, call me Ama, everyone does,” she said, her eyes crinkling with the force of her smile.

Joke looked to Jack again, his heart skipping a beat at the soft look on the other man’s face. Jack nodded at him, calming Joke’s nerves.

“Whatever you’re making smells delicious, Kh—Ama.”

“You have excellent taste! Jack, I like this one!” Joke blushed furiously. “I’m cooking my famous chive dumplings,” Ama continued, leaning in conspiratorily as she whispered, “They’re Jack’s favourite.”

“Well, if they’re Jack’s favourite, I’ll be sure to let him eat his fill. You’re right, he’s looking a bit too thin these days,” Joke stage whispered back, winking at the look of exaggerated outrage on Jack’s face.

“Are you two conspiring against me? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Ama just laughed, walking back into the kitchen.

“Jack,” Joke admonished, walking over to him. “We would never. We respect you too much for that.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jack said, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Jack! You better be nice to that poor boy!” Ama’s voice carried from the kitchen, making them jump.

“Poor boy? You let him bully your only grandson in front of you, and he’s the poor boy?” Jack shot back, incredulous.

“He’s a guest in this house! And besides”—she poked her head out of the kitchen, brandishing a wooden spoon in their direction—“who’s to say he won’t be my grandson someday?”

“Ama! You’re embarrassing me,” Jack groaned, hiding his red face in his hands.

Joke’s earlier nervousness was nowhere to be found, forgotten entirely as something much lighter took hold of him.

She smiled at them, the picture of innocence. “I’m your grandmother. It’s my job to embarrass you,” she said matter-of-factly before ducking back into the kitchen.

“I thought her job was to fuss.” Jack’s lament was muffled, almost lost behind his hands, but Joke was close enough to hear it.

“She’s a grandmother,” Joke whispered, “pretty sure she’s supposed to do both.”

Jack peeked at him from between his fingers. “I thought you were nervous. You seem to be doing just fine right now.” He sounded offended, like Joke ought to be suffering with him.

Laughing, Joke pried Jack’s hands away from his face. “How could I be nervous when I was just told I might be promoted from guest to grandson?”

“Don’t read too much into that,” Jack warned. “She adopts everyone who walks through that door.”

Jack’s words did nothing to ruin Joke’s now buoyant mood. This is what a home should be—warm, comfortable, full of laughter and obvious affection. Not sterile rooms in a too-big house full of people who didn’t like each other. He was going to soak up every second of his time in this place.

“Well, I’ll just have to make sure I’m the best grandson she’s ever had,” Joke said with a shrug.

Jack blinked at him. “You’re a menace. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Joke flashed him his most charming smile as he walked away, leaving Jack propped against the wall. “Can I help you with dinner, Ama?” Joke asked, peeking into the kitchen.

“Of course you can, dear. Jack, set the table!”

Joke stuck his tongue out at Jack and disappeared into the kitchen, Jack muttering something about blood being thicker than water behind him.

When Joke and Ama emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, Jack had set the small table for the three of them.

“It’s been so long since Jack has brought a friend over,” Ama said, setting the steaming dumplings in the centre of the table. “That Tattoo was the last one. A nice boy, but a little odd. He tried to help me with the dumplings too, but he wasn’t a natural like you, Joke.”

Joke couldn’t help but preen under Ama’s praise. He wondered if Tattoo had been made a grandson as well. Selfishly, he hoped not. 

“Jack has told me so much about you,” she continued, gesturing at the two of them to sit down. “I feel like I know you already.”

“Has he?” Joke saw Jack bow his head, his face red.

“Of course!” Ama exclaimed, either oblivious to Jack’s discomfort or choosing to ignore it. Joke thought the latter was more likely. “He came home that night going on and on about—”

“Ama!” Jack interrupted, too loud. “Let me get you some food, yeah?” Ama frowned at him, her eyes widening with something like realization as Jack held her gaze.

He scooped some dumplings onto Ama’s plate, and there was a beat of silence where Joke got the distinct feeling that an entire conversation had passed between Jack and Ama without them exchanging a single word.

“Sorry, Ama, what night are you talking about?” Joke didn’t miss the glance Ama shot at Jack, or the way Jack’s shoulders stiffened as he spooned some dumplings onto his and Joke’s plates.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m confusing things again. Jack calls me a couple times a week, I mixed up my memories. Old age, you know how it is,” she said with a light laugh, patting Joke’s hand. 

An awkward tension settled over the table as Jack avoided eye contact with everyone and everything except his plate, the dumplings apparently far more interesting than either Joke or Ama. The only noise was the sound of chewing, much too loud in the weird quiet that had fallen over them. It felt too similar to dinners at his parents’ house, and Joke felt himself needing to fix it.

“You’ve talked about me, huh? I didn’t think you’d have enough free time for talking, what with how busy I seem to keep you these days,” he teased, willing Jack to take the bait.

“I get days off,” Jack protested. “I don’t sit around the office every day you’re there, waiting for you to be done.”

“I see,” Joke said, leaning in. “So you get to escape and eat a home-cooked meal while I languish away in that place?”

“Yes, you’re so hard done by, Khun,” Jack returned, raising his eyebrow.

And there it was, that easy banter that Joke had grown so fond of. This, he knew how to navigate.

“Well, now that I know what I’ve been missing out on, I’m going to have to insist that you bring me more often.”

“That depends on if Ama invites you back,” Jack countered, raising his eyebrow in that cocky way that made Joke feel a little insane.

Joke could see Ama following their conversation like she was watching a tennis match.

“You are welcome anytime, Joke,” Ama said, interrupting their staring contest. “I love having someone around who actually appreciates my cooking.”

“Hey!” That caught Jack’s attention, and Joke rejoiced at having successfully broken him out of whatever headspace he had fallen into earlier. “When have I ever said I didn’t appreciate your cooking?”

“When have you ever finished your plate and left it looking so clean?” Ama countered, pointing to Joke’s plate.

He had been so focused on Jack that he hadn’t even noticed himself absolutely devouring the dumplings between words. He cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed. “They were delicious, Ama. Thank you so much.”

“I’ll give you the recipe,” she said, patting Joke’s cheek. “Next time, you can help me make them from scratch.”

Embarrassingly, Joke felt himself tear up. “I would love that,” he said, completely sincere. “You’ll help me with the recipe?” He looked at Jack pleadingly.

“Of course,” he said, that soft smile back on his face.

Ama looked between the two of them and smiled, pleased. “Excellent. Now! Who wants dessert?”

“What was Ama talking about the other day?” Joke had told himself not to bring it up, but it was all he could think about the past few days. It had distracted him from work, resulting in yet another lecture from his father, but that didn’t bother Joke as much as how weird Jack had gotten at dinner with Ama.

“Hmm?”

“When she said that you came home that night talking about me—you’ve been here every night since you started, I just wondered what night she was talking about.”

“Oh, I’m not sure, to be honest,” Jack said, not looking up from his book. Joke could see his fingers tighten on the pages, his knuckles turning white. “I think she just got confused. I called her the first night I was here, that’s probably what she was thinking about.” Jack’s voice was as tense as his shoulders as he spoke, his eyes fixed on the page in front of him.

“Right… That makes sense.”

Except it didn’t really. Ama didn’t seem like the type to easily forget things, and Jack calling her to tell her about his first day at work was a far cry from coming home and talking non-stop about Joke. Unless she had been exaggerating about that, trying to tease Jack… Joke had gotten a glimpse of their family dynamic, and teasing was definitely one of Ama’s love languages, so maybe that’s all it was.

He dropped the topic. He didn’t want to argue or fight, not when the topic seemed to upset Jack so much.

A few minutes later, Joke’s phone pinged, alerting him to a new message from Top. He smiled at his screen; since the auction, they’d talked pretty much every day. He pressed play on the voice message, Top’s voice filling the silence.

Hey, Phi! I was gonna hit up a bar after class today and I was wondering if you and Jack wanted to come. I’ll send you the address, please come!

Jack was finally looking at him when the message finished, his face pained. “A bar? Please tell me that is not code for something else.”

“What, no! Of course not, my brother is a good kid, he would never”—Joke’s phone pinged again, the image of a familiar nightclub popping up along with an address—“Okay, yeah, it’s a club. But, importantly, it is a different club than last time.”

Jack groaned and dropped his head back against the couch. “Great.”

“You’ll be fine,” Joke quipped, getting up to change. “It can’t possibly be worse than last time.”

By the time Jack found street parking and they hiked back three blocks to the club, Joke was buzzing. Growing up, he and Top had never been very close—their parents’ obvious preference had hindered a lot of the brotherly bonding they might have done, but still, Top was Joke’s little brother. Being invited on a night out felt like a rite of passage or something, and Joke couldn’t hide his excitement.

The bouncer recognized Joke at the door and waved both him and Jack in, and Jack sighed loudly at the gesture.

“None of that,” Joke chided, standing on his toes to find Top. “And fix your face, they’ll think we’ve quarrelled.”

“Heaven forbid,” Jack muttered as he peered over the heads of the people dancing in the middle of the room. “Ah, I found him.”

He led them to a corner of the club with one of those comfortable booths—prime real estate that Joke was surprised his brother managed to snag. When Joke noticed Aran sitting next to Top, the two of them talking animatedly, the night suddenly made a lot more sense.

Top’s face split into a wide grin when he spotted them, and he waved them over excitedly. “Phi! You made it!”

“I would never not come when my baby brother calls,” Joke retorted, feigning indignation. “Especially when said baby brother invites me out to a nightclub on a school night.”

“Well, it wasn’t entirely my idea,” Top said sheepishly, gesturing at Aran, who wai ’d politely.

Joke and Jack returned Aran’s wai and sat down across from Top.

“That makes more sense, but I do love knowing that my brother isn’t entirely incorruptible."

“Trust me, it took a lot of convincing to get him to come,” Aran said, like he was letting them in on a secret. “It was the least I could do, anyway, after the last time we saw each other.”

The memory of the auction soured Joke’s mood for half a second before a round of shots appeared in front of him and lifted his spirits back up.

“Ugh, let’s not talk about that. I hope he got fired,” Joke muttered, shooting the shot back—tequila. Great. He grimaced against the taste, fighting the urge to cough.

“Speaking of,” Jack interjected, “I hope you made it home okay that night, Khun.”

All eyes turned to Aran, who, much to Joke’s delight, blushed furiously.

“Of course I did. Tattoo was very… diligent.”

Diligent. Joke glanced at Jack, trying and failing to keep the smirk off his face.

“Jack! Kh—Joke! You made it!” Tattoo’s loud voice carried over to them as he weaved his way through the crowd, sitting down next to Aran.

Joke would have had to be blind to miss the loaded look Jack gave Tattoo. It was all too familiar to Joke, having been on the opposite side of it more than once—it meant that the two of them were going to discuss this whole Aran business later.

Before Jack could do anything embarrassing, like start questioning Tattoo right then and there, Joke piped up. “Drinks? Or are we just doing tequila shots all night?”

“Drinks sound delightful!” Aran chirped. “Give us your orders. P’Joke and I will go get them.”

Predictably, Top and Tattoo ordered convoluted drinks with names that Joke had a hard time believing were real. Jack surprised him by ordering a rum and Coke, reminding Joke that this was not technically a work event when questioned about it.

As they waited for the bartender’s attention, Joke saw his opening and took it. “So,” he said, leaning against the bar. “What’s going on with you and Tattoo?”

Aran’s eyes widened, a red flush rising in his cheeks. “Why, has he said anything?”

Joke laughed. “You’d be better off asking Jack, but no, not that I know of. Why? Do you want him to have said anything?”

Aran bit his lip. “I don’t know… He’s kind to me, and he’s funny. And he’s so hot. I mean, you see it, right?”

Joke thought about it for a second. Objectively, sure, Tattoo was good looking, but Joke hadn’t really ever noticed before. “I mean, sure. He’s not my type, but—”

“Phi, no one is going to be your type as long as Jack exists,” Aran said, crossing his arms.

“Shut up! That’s not—we are not talking about Jack, we are talking about Tattoo and the way he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon just for him.”

“He does not,” Aran protested, somehow blushing an even deeper red. “Does he?”

“He does. Are you going to do anything about it?”

“I just… I want him to ask me, you know? I want… I want to be chosen.”

Aran’s words hit Joke like a punch to the stomach. He absolutely did know. He looked at Aran, and for a second, he saw himself. Privileged, wanting for nothing, huge expectations on his shoulders, but never seen. Always at the disposal of those more powerful and in control, with little to no say about his own life. Being chosen was something Joke had always wanted, whether he cared to admit it to himself or not.

Aran misread Joke’s silence, looking away, embarrassed. “I’m just being stupid. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you anyway, I’m sorry, Phi.”

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize. You’re not being stupid, I promise,” Joke reassured. “That is not an unreasonable thing to want, Aran.”

“It doesn’t even matter, really.” Aran shrugged with a sad smile. “My father would go ballistic if he found out about us.”

“Does your father not know you’re…?” Joke didn’t want to put any labels on Aran; he didn’t know him well enough for that.

Aran laughed humourlessly. “Oh, no. He knows I’m gay. He’s not thrilled by it, by any means, but mostly he ignores it. I think he hopes I’ll grow out of it one day.” Aran rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what he’d think is worse—me actually dating a man, or that man being lower-class.”

And oh, shit. Aran made a good point.

Joke felt so stupid. He had been so wrapped up in having Jack back in his life and getting to know him again that he hadn’t even considered what would happen if they actually got together. What would his father say if presented with the fact that Joke was dating not just a man, not just an employee of the company, but his own bodyguard?

The bartender finally came over to them, distracting Aran while Joke spiralled into hypotheticals. He and Jack weren’t together, not even close, so there was no point in worrying about something that might not ever happen, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it; not the fight with his father, but the relationship that might spark it. Joke would fight the world for a place at Jack’s side, he knew that. He hoped Jack knew it too.

“Anyway. Enough about me and my love life,” Aran continued, leaning against the bar as the bartender went to make the mixed drinks. “What’s up with you and Jack?”

“Oh, we uh…” How had he not seen this coming? “He’s my bodyguard, you know that.”

“Uh-huh,” Aran said, clearly waiting for Joke to continue. “And that’s it?”

“And um… We’re roommates.” The bartender came with Joke’s whisky and Aran’s vodka cranberry, and Joke grabbed his glass, taking a big gulp that burned on the way down.

“Roommates,” Aran said, turning back to Joke. He sounded disbelieving, and honestly, Joke couldn’t blame him. He heard how weak the words sounded as soon as they left his mouth.

“Yeah, he uh—he moved in about a month ago,” Joke said, sipping on his drink casually. He hoped.

“M’kay, well that timeline makes sense, that’s when Tattoo moved across the hall from Top.”

Of course Aran knew where Tattoo lived. He’d probably—wait.

“Across the hall? He doesn’t live with Top?”

“Do you and your brother just like, never talk? Yes, Tattoo lives across the hall. I guess he figured he could keep Top safe enough from there while still maintaining professional boundaries. Unlike some people I know.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know they had a choice in the matter.” Jack hadn’t exactly seemed thrilled to move in; Joke had just assumed it was an order given by his father.

Aran hummed. “Well, isn’t that interesting?”

“My father probably just knows that I’m more of a liability than Top. I always have been.” That honestly made more sense. Surely, that had to be the reason.

“Sure. Or, maybe Jack was given the choice and chose you.” Aran levelled him with a steady look, one eyebrow raised.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because it’s you.” Aran shrugged like it was obvious.

“I was no one to him,” Joke mumbled.

“Maybe. Maybe not—I don’t know your lives. But,” Aran continued, looking somewhere over Joke’s shoulder, “I’d say you’re definitely someone to him now.”

Joke swore his heart stopped. “No, that’s—we’re not anything to each other. It’s not like we’re together or anything.”

“You might not be yet, Phi, but I can see the way he looks at you. He’s been watching you the entire time you’ve been over here like some lovesick puppy.” Aran nodded his head, his eyes still focused somewhere over Joke’s shoulder.

Joke resisted the urge to turn around and confirm Aran’s observation. “He doesn’t—that’s not… Really?” He hated the sound of his voice when he asked: small, scared. Hopeful.

Aran nodded. “Bet he’s jealous that you’re over here with me and not back there with him.”

Joke did sneak a glance back then, his heart leaping when he found Jack’s eyes on him. He didn’t even have the decency to look away, instead staring at Joke unabashedly through the crowd.

“Oh,” Joke whispered, turning back to Aran.

“Yup. Oh. ”

The bartender finally arrived with the rest of the drinks, drawing Aran’s attention away from Joke.

Joke clutched his drink tightly, trying to hide the growing smile on his face. Maybe… maybe Aran was right. Maybe there was something there, with Jack. Something deeper than his reflexive kindness, something hidden in the way he looked at Joke, something that Joke had spent over a year hoping for.

“Anyway.” Aran handed Joke a drink to carry, dragging him from his thoughts. “I won’t say anything, obviously. Clearly it’s still new, and the last thing I’d ever want to do is out somebody.”

Relief flooded Joke’s system. “Thank you,” he said. “Really.”

“Of course. I like you, Phi. I like your brother, too. It’s nice to have people who get it, you know?”

Joke felt warm and fuzzy, and it wasn’t because of the whisky. “I’m starting to,” he said, smiling at Aran.

They brought the drinks back to their booth, interrupting a heated debate between Jack and Tattoo about some video game they both played. Top took his drink with a relieved, "thank you," as Jack and Tattoo continued arguing.

“Connor’s story is so much more interesting!”

“Markus is actively in the resistance! He’s the more important character!” Joke had never seen Jack this animated before, except maybe during storytime at the school.

Tattoo opened his mouth to argue further, but Aran was quicker.

“Boys, boys! You’re both pretty! Now play nice, or neither of you will get to reap the fruits of our labour.”

Tattoo shut up, taking his Between the Sheets cocktail. Seriously, what kind of name was that for a drink? “Thank you, Aran,” he mumbled, a sheepish grin on his face.

The drinks flowed, and Joke felt himself relaxing more than he had in months, even with Jack’s near-constant calming presence. There was something so normal about sitting around getting drunk with friends, a sense of camaraderie that Joke hadn’t realized he had been yearning for.

A song that Joke vaguely recognized as K-pop started blasting, the crowd on the dancefloor cheering.

Aran’s eyes lit up as he turned to Tattoo. “Oh! I love this song! Tattoo, dance with me!” He dragged a dumbstruck Tattoo onto the dance floor, leaving the rest of them behind.

“Should I be concerned about that?” Top asked, watching Aran loop his arms around Tattoo’s neck.

Jack shook his head. “Tattoo is a good guy. A bit of an idiot, but well-meaning.”

Top hummed. “Well, I’m sure he’s better than ninety-nine percent of the girls we typically get stuck going on dates with. Right, Phi?”

Joke didn’t really know. His father had long ago given up on trying to set him up with the daughters of the wealthy families in their circle. He hadn’t realized Top had been forced on those dates as well, and he kicked himself for once again being so out of the loop when it came to his brother’s life.

“I think Dad gave up on me.” Joke forced a laugh, willing whoever might be listening out in the universe to strike the club with lightning before this conversation went any further.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s just waiting for the perfect candidate to spring on you. There’s lots of girls out there who I’m sure would fit his criteria.” Top said it so casually, taking a sip of his drink, his gaze focused on the dancing mass of people.

“Top, I’m not—I—” He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff above the ocean, wildfire bearing down on him. All he had to do was jump, but it was a risk. Was it better to drown in his brother’s potential hate or let this secret burn him?

Joke looked helplessly at Jack. He hadn’t told Jack, but Jack wasn’t stupid. After that night at the club and Joke almost kissing him, he definitely knew Joke wasn’t straight. It had never needed to be said outright, and Jack had never made Joke feel small about it.

Jack nodded encouragingly, a small smile on his face.

With that one motion, Joke became brave. “I’m gay,” Joke blurted out, a feeling like nausea rising in his stomach.

It was out there now. There was no going back from it.

Top turned back to him slowly. He was silent for a moment, his face giving nothing away. Joke waited for him to explode, to condemn him, to walk away. He unconsciously reached for Jack under the table, his heart skipping a beat when Jack took his hand in his.

“I wondered when you’d get around to actually telling me that,” Top mused. “I thought maybe you’d go to the grave with that horribly kept secret.”

Joke blinked, once. Twice. “What?”

“Phi, I’m not stupid. You’ve never gone on more than one date with a girl, and even those dates were never your choice. You used to come home in the morning smelling like Sauvage cologne and covered in sparkles.” Top was smiling now, his eyes soft. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me, Phi.”

The nausea was replaced with a surge of love and affection for the boy in front of him. For so long, Joke had seen Top as a rival, an obstacle between him and their parents’ love, but he had always been Joke’s baby brother first. The boy who used to follow Joke around and insist on wearing matching outfits. The boy who tried helping Joke with his homework when he was just a kid, far too young to bear the responsibility of helping his useless older brother.

Joke threw his arms around Top and dragged him into an awkward hug, the booth not exactly designed for such flagrant displays of affection.

“I love you, Top. I’m sorry I wasn’t there more, I shouldn’t have let them separate us, I’m so sorry—”

“Hey, it’s okay. You figured your shit out in the end, and that’s what matters. I love you too, P’Joke.”

Joke graciously pretended not to notice Top wiping tears off his face when Joke finally let him go, turning to wipe his own eyes.

“I mean it, Phi,” Top said, pinning Joke under his gaze. “I don’t care about your sexuality. No, I’m sorry—that isn’t right. I do care, but only because I care about you. It doesn’t matter who you date or who you love—you’re still my Phi. Got it?”

“Got it,” Joke said, smiling through more tears.

Top leaned in to whisper in Joke’s ear. “Boy or girl, bodyguard or otherwise—it doesn’t matter to me.” He leaned back with a wink, glancing at Jack, who was watching them with a huge smile on his face.

“What are you looking at?” Joke demanded, choosing to ignore Top’s comment. He couldn’t do any more heartfelt conversations about him and Jack; he just didn’t have it in him tonight.

“Nothing,” Jack said, shrugging. “I’m proud of you, Khun.”

“Shut up,” Joke mumbled. A flush borne of embarrassment and pride rose in his cheeks at Jack’s words. He was proud of him. Joke made him proud. What a strange and foreign concept… Joke could get used to the feeling that accompanied it.

“You guys are so boring!” Aran’s voice in his ear made Joke jump. “Come dance!” He took Top by the arm and dragged him from the booth, ignoring his protests every step of the way. Joke and Jack were left alone, both Top and Aran’s words from earlier ringing in Joke’s ear.

“Jack, there’s something I want to tell you—”

“I wanted to ask you something—”

They spoke over each other, laughing shyly at their blunder.

“You go first,” Joke prompted, taking another sip of his drink to calm his nerves.

“Do your parents not know then? About you being gay?”

Joke blinked in surprise. Somehow, despite his earlier confession, that wasn’t the question he had been expecting. “Ah… No, not officially. I think they’ve suspected for a while, but as long as I don’t come out to them, they can keep pretending I’m normal.”

Jack nodded and looked at him expectantly, waiting for Joke to elaborate. It was one of the things Joke loved about him; he never pushed, he just let Joke take the space he was given to fill however he saw fit.

“I’ve thought about telling them for years,” he continued. “I liked to imagine their faces when they learned that not only was their son an idiot, he was also a deviant. Part of me hoped that if I did ever tell them, they’d disown me and I’d be free from their expectations and control.”

Jack tilted his head thoughtfully. “Do you still feel like that’s the only option you have?”

Joke looked at where Top was laughing with Tattoo and Aran and shook his head. “Not anymore. I feel like, for once in my life, I have people on my side. I feel less alone. I feel… I dunno. Brave.”

“Brave, huh? I’d have to agree.”

The butterflies that lived perpetually in Joke’s stomach took flight, somersaulting at Jack’s words.

“And just so you know,” Jack continued, sipping his drink, “I think normal is overrated. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Joke’s heart skipped a beat at Jack’s words. Perfect. He was far from it, but for maybe the first time in his life, he wasn’t upset by that fact.

“You said you wanted to tell me something?”

“Yeah, um… I’m just really grateful for your help.” Joke could continue being brave later. Right now, he wanted to bask in this feeling. He felt light and happy, the alcohol taking his happiness and multiplying it until he swore he might float away. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course.” Jack reached across and took Joke’s hand where it sat fidgeting on the table. “But really, this was all you. The proposal for the school, meeting Ama, coming out to your brother—that was all you. I’m just grateful I get to witness it all.”

“And you’ll stay? To see it to the end?” Please say yes.

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it. I promised, didn’t I?”

He had. And Joke knew in his heart Jack would stay and keep that promise. Just like he knew that at some point over the past few weeks, he had fallen for the man sitting in front of him.

Not the memory of him, or the daydreams of what might have been. No, Joke had fallen for the real thing—the Jack who was kind and patient, funny and teasing, but never mean. The Jack who saw Joke at his lowest and stayed, not because of his job but in spite of it.

Jack smiled at him, and the way his heart soared… There was no denying how Joke felt about him. The realisation settled in his chest, the weight of it heavy but not unpleasant. He let it spread through him, lighting him up from the inside until he swore Jack could see it in his eyes.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was whatever bravery was still left in him, but he found himself not caring if Jack figured it out. Between the wildfire and the ocean, he’d choose the ocean every time.

Chapter Text

Jack lost track of how many drinks Joke had had, but he wasn’t falling down drunk, so he figured it was a safe amount. Aran and Top seemed pleasantly buzzed, both of them still out on the dancefloor with Joke, despite Top’s earlier hesitation.

It hadn’t been hard for them to convince Joke to join them after he and Jack had had their little heart-to-heart. Jack had watched Joke get more and more relaxed, his eyes softer than he’d ever seen them. Maybe it had been the reminder of Jack’s promise to him; Jack imagined that not many people had made promises to Joke before, let alone kept them. So be it—Jack was happy to be one of the few who had.

Joke looked joyful out there, laughing and dancing without a care in the world. Jack wished he could be this happy all the time; it was infectious, the way his face lit up and his worries no longer weighed him down. If Jack could make Joke even a fraction as happy as he seemed to be tonight… That would mean everything to him.

“You’re not drinking anymore, right?” Jack glanced away from the trio to watch Tattoo as he sidled up to the booth, panting and glistening with sweat.

Tattoo grabbed a glass of water and chugged it before answering, “Cross my heart and hope to die, I am sober as they come, Jack.”

“Good. We should be on alert—I don’t want a repeat of the other day.”

“Dude, that was a fluke,” Tattoo protested. “Nothing happened, and besides, this isn’t a corporate function. The odds of anyone targeting them are slim to none.”

“Maybe,” Jack admitted, “but they’re still our responsibilities, corporate function or not.” Corporate espionage was one thing, but Jack didn’t know what kind of enemies Khun Khongsuk had made. The people who had been waiting for Top at school definitely didn’t seem like the corporate type.

“Mhm. Are you sure they’re not more than that?”

“Well, we all know Aran is more to you than that. We’re not blind,” Jack teased. “Don’t think I’m letting you off easy about that, either. I’m going to need details.” Really, he knew Joke would want details.

Tattoo rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about Aran, Jack.”

Jack thought about it for a second. “I mean, yeah. I actually like them as people, which shocks me, considering who their father is. I really thought they’d be more stuck up, but they’re decent human beings.”

“Right. You like them as people. Both of them, just as people. Even Joke.”

“Khun Joke,” Jack corrected out of habit. Why was Tattoo being so weird? Unless… No. There was no way Tattoo of all people had figured out Jack’s feelings towards Joke. Save and Hope were one thing, but Tattoo?

“Oh, please,” Tattoo said, incredulous.

Jack stared at him for a second, panicked. “What?”

“It’s just us here, Jack. You can use his name. I’ve seen the way you look at him—hell, I walked in on the two of you almost kissing a few weeks ago.”

Oh. Oh, no.

“That is not—we weren’t—” Smooth.

Tattoo had never brought up that day in the gym; Jack had assumed he hadn’t actually seen anything, but of course he had. Because nothing in Jack’s life could be simple.

“I’m not stupid, Jack. And neither is Joke. Eventually, he’s going to realize how you feel about him, because let’s be honest—you suck at hiding it. What then, huh? What’s your plan?”

Jack wasn’t ready to have this conversation with Tattoo—he had just barely come to terms with it himself. It was only Save’s advice that had…

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Have you been talking to Save?”

“Save? No, of course not.” Tattoo looked offended at the very suggestion.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ve been talking to Hope. And the driver you got fired, actually.” Tattoo had the audacity to shrug and take another sip of water, completely oblivious to the absolute bomb he had just dropped in Jack’s lap.

For a second, the only thing Jack was aware of was the bass echoing in his ears. “Excuse me?” He tried to keep his voice level, but all he really wanted to do was scream.

“He’s a friend of mine. I got him the job, by the way. He’s a decent dude. His name’s Hoy, did you know that? Did either of you bother to learn his name before you got him fired?”

There was not a single fibre in Jack’s body that felt bad about not learning the chauffeur’s name. He would save that for later, when he inevitably felt guilty for getting Tattoo’s friend fired and reached out with an apology.

Right now, Jack was dumbfounded. “Sorry, hold on—you’re not the one interrogating me , I’m the one asking you the questions! You talked with Hope?”

“And Hoy, yeah. Weren’t you listening?” Tattoo cocked his head, confused. It was a good thing Aran found him cute.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Jack muttered darkly. After all that bullshit about keeping his secret and them being allies, Hope had gone and blabbed to the first person to ask.

“Hey, Hoy’s a victim in this!”

“Not Hoy!” Jack yelled, his voice carrying above the music. “Hope!”

Tattoo was entirely unfazed by Jack’s outburst. “Oh. Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have told me anything, but to be fair, I was being incredibly annoying.”

“Of course you were.” Jack dropped his head to the table with a groan. “I need new friends.”

“Aw,” Tattoo cooed above him. “You think we’re friends?”

Jack peered up at him. “What, you don’t?”

“Oh, I’ve thought we were friends the whole time,” Tattoo said, a wide grin on his face. “I don’t know if you know this about yourself, Jack, but you’re kinda hard to read. Closed off, distrustful… Kind of an ass, sometimes, if we’re being honest—”

“Okay, I got it. Thank you for that.” A pang of guilt shot through him. Tattoo wasn’t wrong, but it was shitty to hear that he’d missed out on months of actual friendship with him, Save, and Hope.

“But it’s okay because we like you anyway. Joke most of all.”

Jack banged his forehead on the tabletop, hoping that maybe he’d knock himself unconscious and not have to continue having this conversation. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“And you still don’t believe us?”

“It’s not that. I just… I don’t know how to be honest with him.” Jack sighed and lifted his head. What was the point in trying to hide? Apparently, everyone knew how he felt about Joke, and they all had an opinion on how he should act on said feelings.

Tattoo looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Easy. You tell him the truth.”

“It’s not that simple,” Jack protested weakly.

“I think it is. You’re overthinking this, Jack. The longer you go without telling him the truth, the more chance there is for it to backfire on you.” Okay, so maybe there was a rational brain hiding behind Tattoo’s flippant exterior.

“What if he hates me?” Jack’s voice was small, unsure.

“He won’t.”

Tattoo sounded so sure, but how could he be? He only knew what Hope—and apparently, Hoy—had told him. He didn’t know how fragile Joke’s trust was or how much it meant that Joke had given it to Jack.

“But what if he does?” Jack needed someone to level with him. He appreciated his friends telling him it would work out, but he needed to see the path forward if it didn’t. If he managed to fuck things up beyond repair.

“Then…” Tattoo trailed off, his eyes searching Jack’s face. He sighed at what he saw there. “Then at least the truth will be out there. At least you’ll have given him a chance to make his own decision about where you two stand.”

He was right, of course. Save, Hope—they were all right.

“I’m scared,” Jack whispered, the words almost lost in the pulse of the music.

“The truth is scary,” Tattoo agreed, shrugging. “But it’s what we’re all owed, scared or not.”

Fuck Tattoo for being so wise.

Movement caught Jack’s eye. Joke was headed back towards them, his face flushed and split into a wide grin. His hair was dishevelled, and at some point between leaving the table and returning, the top two buttons of his shirt had come undone.

He was a vision.

Jack took a deep breath. He could see Tattoo watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“You got this, dude.” Tattoo clapped him on the shoulder before heading back out to the dancefloor, passing Joke on the way. Jack watched him lean down and say something in Joke’s ear, Joke’s eyes cutting to where Jack sat. He nodded, and Jack thought his face was a bit redder as he continued his way to him.

“Hey,” Joke said, breathless as he slumped in the booth next to Jack.

“Hey, yourself.” Jack’s heart was beating so loudly, he was positive Joke could hear it above the music.

“Tattoo said I should ask you to dance.” He laughed softly, like it was a joke.

“Did he now?” Jack looked over Joke’s shoulder and saw Tattoo watching them. He winked and saluted before disappearing into the crowd, probably in search of Aran.

Joke nodded, solemn. Nervous.

“Well then,” Jack mused, steeling himself. “I guess you should ask me.”

Joke’s face lit up. “Jack,” he said, his voice shaking, “will you dance with me?”

“I’d be honoured, Khun.”

Jack let Joke drag him onto the dancefloor, right in the middle of the crowd. He pulled Joke in by the waist, doing his best to ignore Joke’s gasp and the way it made goosebumps erupt across Jack’s skin. Joke twined his arms around Jack’s neck, and Jack desperately wanted to know what it would feel like to have those hands sink into his hair and hold him there.

“So, is this a better clubbing experience than last time?” Joke asked, mischief in his eyes.

“Last time? I’m not sure what you mean. Last time was so chill and normal.”

Joke laughed, the sound bright and happy.

It was easy to get lost in the heat of the bodies surrounding them and the feeling of the music pulsing in his chest. Joke was so warm against him where they touched—his fingers absentmindedly brushing the back of Jack’s neck, their chests brushing with every breath, Jack’s hands circling Joke’s tiny waist.

They could have danced for minutes or hours, Jack didn’t know or care. Joke moved against and around him, growing bolder as time passed. It was a heady feeling, seeing this side of Joke, knowing he was putting on a show for Jack and Jack alone. Jack was the boy in the bar again, except this time the thing separating them was Jack’s secret. His fear.

When the music slowed down just a bit and got quieter, Jack heard Joke sigh. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to Jack’s shoulder, muttering something Jack couldn’t quite hear.

“Hmm?”

Joke shifted, his breath hot against Jack’s neck.

“I said this is nice.”

Jack nodded. It was, it really was. They were just one more couple in the crowd—no one cared who they were or what they meant to each other.

“I wish…”

“What? What do you wish?” Jack could guess what Joke wanted to say. He had seen the way Joke looked at him when he thought he wasn’t paying attention. He knew how Joke felt about him.

“Lots of things,” Joke said with a small smile. “But I don’t know if I can tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. You know that.” Better you than me, Jack thought, like a coward.

Joke averted his gaze.

“Be brave,” Jack whispered, knowing full well Joke had always been the brave one where they were concerned. Jack was the one who needed to man up, not Joke.

“I wish you… I wish you remembered me the way I remember you,” Joke murmured.

“How do you remember me?” It was a reckless thing to ask, but Jack couldn’t help himself. He just hoped Joke was too intoxicated to question it.

Joke hummed softly, playing with Jack’s collar. “I remember you smiling. At the bar that night, you smiled and laughed so much. I miss that.”

Joke was hinting at it, skirting past the subject.

“I smile,” Jack protested, trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

Joke acquiesced, nodding thoughtfully. “Your smile is… I like your smile. I like how you see me, I like how comfortable you are in our home.”

Our home. Jack didn’t correct him; the condo did feel like a second home now. Jack felt comfortable and safe there, and Joke was the main reason why. “You’ve made it easy. You’re easy to be around; I enjoy spending time with you.”

Joke’s eyes filled with tears at Jack’s words. “No one has ever…” He sighed and dropped his head to Jack’s chest. “Jack. I… I like you so much,” he whispered, his lips just barely brushing the bare skin of Jack’s neck where a button had come undone.

Oh god. There would be no going back from this.

“I like you too,” Jack breathed, unable to keep the words inside. He felt Joke tense in his hold, like he was holding his breath. There was no way Joke hadn’t heard him, and Jack didn’t think all the alcohol in the world would keep Joke from remembering his words.

“Do you… Do you like me the same way I like you?” Joke raised his head to look at him, and Jack’s fingers itched to touch the blush painting his cheeks.

Jack didn’t answer. He felt insane, his heart pounding in his chest, his palms sweaty. It would be so easy, like breathing, to admit that yes, he did like Joke the way Joke liked him. Maybe even more, if he was being honest with himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

The words stuck in his throat, and he swallowed around them, eyes roving across Joke’s face down to his lips. They were so close, it would be nothing to bend down and close the distance between them.

Whatever Joke saw in his face had him nodding, a tentative smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his dimple peeking out. “Then do something about it.”

“Khun—”

“Say my name, Jack. If you’re going to look at me like that”—Joke paused, eyes darting down to Jack’s lips—“say my name.”

God. Jack could feel himself breaking. “Joke…”

He felt Joke shiver at the sound of his name.

“Jack—”

All he had to do was lean in. Joke was so close, Jack could feel his breath ghosting over his lips. Jack watched Joke’s eyes flutter closed, his face tilted up towards him. He had never fully appreciated their height difference until this moment; the way Joke had to crane his neck to reach him exposed the line of his throat and Jack wanted to press his lips to the skin there.

“Jack!”

Tattoo’s voice washed over Jack like a bucket of ice water. Joke jumped back and out of Jack’s arms, leaving Jack feeling bereft and cold. Jack glared at Tattoo as he approached with Top and Aran in tow and briefly considered strangulation. He saw Aran glance between him and Joke, an apologetic look on his face. At least he wasn’t the only one annoyed by the interruption.

“Some idiots are getting rowdy at the bar. I think we’d better leave before it gets out of control,” Tattoo explained, pointing to the growing crowd at the bar. I’m sorry, he mouthed, genuine regret on his features.

Jack glanced at Joke, standing to the side with his arms crossed over himself, then at the bar where raised voices were getting louder. He sighed. Whatever had been about to happen would have to wait.

“Alright, let’s get them home.”

The apartment was silent save for the soft click of the door closing behind them. They were scarcely breathing, like neither of them wanted to make too much noise and draw attention to the palpable tension growing between them. The air felt charged; it reminded Jack of lying on the gym floor, wanting Joke to close the distance and kiss him.

Joke kicked off his shoes and walked to the kitchen, leaving Jack to his thoughts. He watched Joke open the fridge and pull out a beer, opening it to take a swig.

“Is that the best idea right now?” He knew Joke had sobered up on the drive home, so there was no danger of a hangover, but he didn’t think that alcohol was the best companion to the conversation he was sure they were about to have.

“We were having such a good night,” Joke said, shrugging. “Maybe I don’t want it to end just yet.”

Jack sighed. He couldn’t bring himself to end it either. “Pass me one,” he said, perching on the kitchen island. He caught the beer and bottle opener Joke tossed him, chugging back a couple mouthfuls. Jack could see Joke practically vibrating out of his skin; he got the feeling he was going to need a bit of a buzz to handle whatever Joke said next.

They drank in silence for a bit, the faint hum of electricity the only noise in the condo.

“Wanna play a game?”

Jack jumped a bit at Joke’s loud voice. “A game?”

“Truth or dare.” Joke hopped up onto the island next to him, setting his now-empty beer bottle on its side between them.

“Sounds dangerous,” Jack murmured, his pulse spiking. He wished he’d had time to drink another beer—one wasn’t going to cut it.

“Be brave,” Joke whispered, leaning in.

The repetition of his own words wasn’t lost on Jack as Joke spun the bottle.

He looked up at Jack with a sly smile on his face when the bottle pointed in Jack’s direction. “Truth or dare?” he asked, cocking his head. God, Joke looked good like this; a bit dishevelled, his face slightly red from the alcohol.

Jack swallowed hard, doing his absolute best to ignore the arousal pooling in his gut. “Truth.”

Joke bit back a smile and nodded his head, completely unsurprised by Jack’s answer.

“Do you like me the way I like you?”

There it was again; that all too important question Jack knew he shouldn’t answer. He had a job to do, a responsibility to Khun Khongsuk, a duty to uphold.

None of that seemed to matter as he nodded; any words he might have said caught in his throat.

Joke leaned in closer. Jack couldn’t bring himself to move away, trapped in Joke’s gaze like a moth drawn to flame.

“My turn,” Jack said, his voice hoarse.

Joke stilled, his body angled towards Jack’s like he, too, felt the magnetic draw between them.

Jack spun the bottle; when it landed on him again, he turned it to face Joke.

“That’s cheating,” Joke murmured, close enough for Jack to feel his breath on his face.

Jack ignored him, swallowing hard when he met Joke’s half-lidded gaze. “Truth or dare?” Jack knew what Joke was going to pick before he said the word.

“Dare.” Joke didn’t blink as he waited for Jack’s answer, his face the picture of defiance, like he didn’t think Jack was going to play the game.

Jack spoke before the thought had fully formed. “Kiss me.”

Joke’s eyes went wide, as if somehow, despite everything, he hadn’t expected that request to fall from Jack’s lips.

Honestly, Jack hadn’t expected it either. He blamed the beer, the weeks of fighting his growing attraction and affection towards Joke, and the fact that Joke was practically sitting in his lap, looking so thoroughly kissable.

“Joke.” Jack watched Joke’s eyes darken at the sound of his name. “Kiss me.”

There was a second of hesitation, a beat of time in which Joke studied his face, gauging to see if Jack was being serious in his request.

“Okay,” he breathed, so quietly that Jack almost didn’t hear him.

He grabbed the collar of Jack’s shirt and pulled him in the last few inches. Jack barely had time to think before Joke’s lips were crashing into his.

In his weakest moments, Jack had imagined what kissing Joke might be like. He had pictured something soft and fragile to match the tentative journey he and Joke had been on over the past few weeks, but god.

He had been so, so wrong.

There was nothing fragile, nothing soft about this kiss. Joke kissed him like he thought he’d never get the chance again. He took and took until the only thing left was the breath in Jack’s lungs.

Jack let him take that too. Who needed air when this was the alternative?

There was desperation in their actions, in the quiet moans that echoed between them. Jack cupped Joke’s face, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Joke’s hands didn’t seem to know where to land, moving from Jack’s neck to his face to his shoulder and back again. When Jack got dizzy—a mix of oxygen deprivation and sheer want —he pulled back. He rested his forehead against Joke’s as they caught their breath.

Jack was thrilled to see Joke’s lips were red and slightly swollen. I did that , he thought, a shiver running down his spine. He watched Joke’s gaze flit between his eyes and mouth, like he couldn’t decide what he wanted more. His eyes were half-lidded, his pupils blown wide, and Jack thought he might drown in them.

He caressed Joke’s cheek, pressing his thumb to the freckle that liked to hide in Joke’s dimple when he smiled. Later, he’d like to kiss that freckle, but right now he was too preoccupied with the way Joke was subconsciously leaning back in, his lips parted and waiting.

Jack leaned in and pressed his lips to Joke’s once more, the movement slow and sweet, like honey. This time, they were less frantic. Passion still simmered right below the surface, but it wasn’t hurried or desperate; it felt solid. Real.

Joke’s hands were twin spots of warmth where they rested on Jack’s thigh and cupped his face. Jack was vaguely aware of the chill of the marble countertop, and his lower back twinged a bit with the way he was twisting to reach Joke properly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

A few weeks ago, Jack might have been content to kiss Joke until the sun rose. But after spending the night in his bed, and the resulting shower, there was only so much of this he could take. He could feel his cock stirring, and Joke’s thumb caressing his thigh was absolutely not helping. He wondered if Joke wanted more. He hoped so—whatever Joke wanted, Jack wouldn’t hesitate to give him.

xxXxx

They separated for barely a second when Jack slid off the island, pulling Joke with him. They stumbled their way down the hall to Joke's bedroom, Joke pushing and Jack pulling the entire way. They managed to get through Joke’s door, ignoring the way it banged against the wall. Joke could have someone repair the damage later, right now he couldn't care less.

He let Jack push him against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. There was something about the force of it, the way Jack put his hands on him like he knew Joke was something sturdy, something that could be handled roughly, that Joke couldn’t get enough of. For so long, people had treated him like he was something explosive, but Jack touched him like even if Joke did erupt, he wasn’t afraid.

Shirts were unbuttoned and pulled off only to be tossed aside to some corner of the room. Joke got his mouth on Jack’s shoulder, sinking his teeth lightly into the muscle there. Jack hissed as Joke pulled back and admired the bite mark left behind on Jack’s skin.

“Menace,” Jack breathed, grabbing Joke again and pushing him towards the bed.

Joke hit the mattress and fell back, watching as Jack knelt on the mattress. From this angle, Jack towered over him, and Joke felt small in the best way. Like Jack could cover him with his entire body until Joke didn’t exist anymore.

He raised his hips to let Jack unbutton his jeans and pull them down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers. Joke was straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he caught Jack staring at him. He saw the way his eyes darkened and watched him lick his lips. The sight made Joke twitch. Jack’s sharp inhale was music to his ears. Slowly, Jack brought his hand up to cup Joke through his boxers. Joke's muscles coiled as he fought not to thrust up into the touch.

He let Jack explore the length of him through the dampening fabric as he gripped the sheets and bit his lip to keep from moaning. When he couldn’t take Jack's ministrations anymore, Joke pushed off the mattress, flipping Jack over onto his back. It was Joke’s turn to straddle Jack as he stripped Jack’s pants off and dropped them over the side of the bed; another thing to deal with later. With Jack in just his boxers, Joke stretched out to turn the bedside lamp on. He wanted to be able to see the man in front of him.

God, but Jack was beautiful. He was strong, his muscles lean and sculpted. He wasn’t a vain man, but he could be if he wanted; Joke wouldn’t even blame him. Laid out beneath him, Jack's skin was golden in the low light of the room. His chest rose and fell with each measured breath, and Joke could see the pounding of his pulse in his neck.

He couldn’t help himself; he needed to feel the heat of Jack’s skin beneath his mouth. He kissed his way down Jack’s neck and over his shoulder, paying special attention to the red teeth marks he had left there. He kissed his way down Jack's chest and brought a hand up to swipe a thumb over Jack’s nipple as his mouth caught up to the other one.

“Joke,” Jack gasped, jumping at the contact.

Joke raised his head to check in. “This okay?”

Jack nodded frantically, his hands white knuckling the sheets. “Yes, god , yes.”

Joke grinned.

He got back to the task at hand, worrying Jack's nipples between his teeth as his hand slid down the hard surface of Jack's abs. He let his fingers tease the soft skin above the waistband of Jack's boxers, feeling his muscles twitch.

“Wait—” Jack grabbed Joke's wrist before he could get any further.

Joke immediately pulled back, panting as he sat back on his heels. Jack was flushed all the way down his heaving chest, cherry red bruises in the shape of Joke's mouth standing out delightfully.

“Do you have…?” Jack trailed off.

Of course. Practical, logical Jack, always thinking ahead and solving problems.

“I do, but… I haven’t… It’s been a while, for me,” Joke admitted.

“That’s okay,” Jack said softly, gazing up at him with wide eyes. “It’s been a while for me too.”

"That's—that's good. Or, not good , but like, good to know. You know?"

Jack laughed, his eyes dancing with mirth and something Joke wanted to call fondness. "I agree."

Joke stretched out to fumble around in his bedside table for the lube and condoms he stashed there, nerves and excitement making his hands shake. He had bought them after Jack spent the night in his bed, on the off chance Jack fell into his bed again and decided they should do more than sleep.

Throwing everything on the bed, Joke leaned back down only for a strong, callused hand to land on his chest and stop him. Taking advantage of Joke's confusion, Jack hooked his leg around Joke’s waist and twisted, flipping him over onto his back. Fuck, he was so strong. Joke was losing his mind.

“Let me do it this time.”

And Joke’s racing heart stopped beating for a second. This time. So, Jack had every intention of there being a next time, maybe even multiple next times, enough for Joke to learn his body inside and out.

Joke nodded, biting his lip in a failed attempt to stop the smile growing there.

“Yeah?” Jack whispered, an answering grin on his face.

Joke laced his hands behind Jack’s neck and pulled him down. “Hurry up before I change my mind,” he whispered. He gave Jack’s earlobe a light nip to drive the point home and delighted in the gasp Jack gave in return.

Jack’s lips on his neck had Joke’s eyes rolling back in his head. Jack copied the route Joke had taken, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders, sucking bruises into the delicate skin over Joke’s pulse point.

Jack continued his journey down, running the flat of his tongue over Joke’s nipple, making his back arch off the mattress. Jack's hand came to rest on Joke’s chest again, holding him down as Jack moved further down his body. Between one blink and the next, Jack had taken the waistband of Joke’s boxers in his teeth, pulling it taut before letting it snap back down. Joke jumped at the sensation, the slight pain mixing with the pleasure of Jack’s hands and mouth on him.

“Jack,” Joke whined, overcome by the teasing.

“Yes?” Jack looked up at Joke from between his legs, and Joke thought he might combust.

“I need you to hurry up and fuck me.”

Jack groaned and rose back up, crashing into Joke. He kissed him breathless while his hands slid between them and pulled Joke’s boxers down his hips. Joke raised himself up to help, his bare cock brushing against Jack’s still-clothed dick as he did. He gasped, and Jack took advantage of it. He licked into Joke’s mouth, swallowing down his moans straight from the source.

When Joke remembered how to use his hands, he grabbed Jack’s ass and pulled him down, grinding up against him.

“Off,” he gasped, hooking his fingers into the elastic of Jack’s boxers.

Jack nodded frantically, twisting to push his boxers down and off, flinging them off somewhere for them to find in the morning.

Finally, there was nothing left between them. Jack sat back on his heels, his hands on Joke’s hips to keep him still. Joke squirmed under Jack’s gaze, fighting the urge to cover himself up.

“God, look at you. All this, just for me.”

Joke flushed. “Jack, come on.”

Jack shook his head and grabbed a pillow. “Lift,” he ordered.

Joke hurried to comply, lifting his hips up so Jack could slide the pillow under him.

Jack warmed the lube between his fingers while Joke bent his legs and spread them wide. His breaths were coming hard and fast, but he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He was going dizzy with it.

The first touch of Jack’s finger made Joke jump.

It had been so long; the sensation of Jack’s finger breaching him felt weird and foreign. There had been a time, what felt like a lifetime ago, when Joke had barely needed any prep. Sure, those hookups always hurt, but he had felt a sick sense of pride at being an uncomplicated and easy partner.

With Jack though, he wanted the prep. He wanted the foreplay, the intimacy that came with learning someone’s body inside and out, and what gave them the most amount of pleasure.

“Shh,” Jack soothed. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, Jack moved his finger in and out, letting Joke adjust to the feeling of him. One finger became two, became three, until Joke was writhing on the bed, practically riding Jack’s hand.

Joke tried to keep his eyes open. He wanted to see Jack above him, wanted to watch the way his arm muscles flexed as Jack moved and scissored his fingers inside him. He lost the battle when Jack crooked his fingers and brushed against the spot that Joke had hoped he’d find.

Joke moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel himself twitch, precum dripping onto his stomach.

“Hey.” Joke felt a hand grab his chin and shake it slightly. “Look at me.”

Joke opened his eyes to Jack looking down at him, his pupils blown wide. He looked like he was holding onto his self-control by a thread.

“There you are.”

Jack’s fingers were still, but Joke was acutely aware of them nestled inside him.

“You okay?”

Joke nodded, frantic. He was okay, he was more than okay. He thought his heart might burst out of his chest with just how okay everything was in that moment.

“Good,” Jack murmured, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets.

Joke whined high in his throat at the loss, but he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed about it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jack reassured him, running a soothing hand down Joke’s thigh.

He watched Jack’s muscles ripple and flex as he twisted to take a condom from the box. He was absolutely beautiful.

“Let me,” Joke said when Jack turned back to him, condom in hand. He gently took the condom from Jack and tore into it with his teeth. He grinned at the impressed look on Jack’s face as he threw the wrapper to the floor. “Sit back.”

Jack shuffled back a bit and raised himself to kneel higher above him. Joke sat up and paused to take in the sight before him. Jack was all lean muscle, sculpted like someone who worked out for function rather than form. His thighs were strong where they bracketed Joke’s, and his pecs—Joke couldn’t help reaching out to touch one, feeling the muscle jump beneath his fingertips. He could feel Jack’s heartbeat racing in time with his own, and it pulled him back into the moment.

Joke ignored the way his mouth watered as he pinched the condom and rolled it down Jack’s cock. Jack was a similar size to him, Joke noted, as Jack clenched his hands at his sides.

“Okay?” Joke asked, checking in.

“Mhm,” Jack hummed, breathing heavily through his nose.

Joke couldn’t resist wrapping his fist around Jack and giving an experimental tug. Jack gasped above him, his hands flying to hold onto Joke’s shoulders.

“Joke,” he said, a warning in his tone.

“Yes?” Joke asked, the picture of innocence.

“Lie back, or you’ll be on your own.”

Joke pouted but let go, settling back against the pillows. “How do you want me?” he asked. He desperately wanted their first time to be face-to-face. He wanted to watch Jack unravel. He wanted Jack's eyes on him.

“I want to see you,” Jack answered, pushing Joke’s legs out and up.

Joke breathed a sigh of relief.

“We can experiment next time,” Jack continued as he reached between them.

“Next ti—” Joke’s breath was pushed from his lungs as Jack pushed into him slowly, gently.

God.

Fuck.

Even with Jack’s attentive preparation, the stretch burned. Not enough for Joke to want to stop, but enough for the pain to heighten the pleasure of Jack sinking into him. Jack paused anytime Joke’s breath hitched, letting him adjust to the feel of him. Joke grabbed at any part of Jack he could reach, his nails scratching down Jack’s back.

Jack hissed but didn’t stop pushing until Joke was full of him. They both took a moment to breathe and steel themselves against the sensation. It had been over a year since Joke had been with anyone like this, and his own fingers had been poor substitutes.

“Move,” he begged, squeezing his legs against Jack’s hips. “Jack, move .”

Jack nodded and started flexing his hips, his movements slow and measured.

Joke twisted, trying to get Jack’s cock to hit that spot again, the one that—

He couldn’t help the surprised yelp he made when Jack succeeded. Now that Jack had a target, he angled his hips so that every thrust had Joke seeing stars.

Every nerve in Joke’s body seemed to end where they were joined together. His entire world narrowed until all he could see, hear, and feel was Jack. Nothing else mattered; no one else existed outside of this moment.

Joke could feel the pleasure rising in him, the heat in his belly coiling tighter and tighter. He reached between them and took his cock in hand, stroking it in time with Jack’s thrusts.

Jack’s arms were shaking where they were braced on either side of Joke’s head.

“Joke, I can’t—”

“Take what you need, Jack,” Joke gasped. He’d let Jack do anything to him.

Jack’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming sloppy and hurried. Joke let go of himself and reached around to cup Jack’s ass, forcing him in that much harder, that much further.

“Oh my god,” Jack groaned. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” The praise lit Joke up, and he clenched around Jack unconsciously.

Jack moaned, “Like—like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was," Joke whispered.

The only sound coming from Jack’s mouth was Joke’s name, falling from his lips like a prayer. The way Jack said his name, like it meant something—Joke wanted to listen to it forever.

“Let go, Jack. I’ve got you.”

Jack gave a strangled groan, his hips pressed flush to Joke’s as he came. Joke lamented the use of the condom—he wanted to feel Jack come inside him. He wanted to feel the evidence of Jack’s pleasure leak out of him.

Jack collapsed on top of him and buried his face in the crook of Joke’s neck as he caught his breath. Joke held him as he twitched through the aftershocks, running a soothing hand over the scratch marks on his back. He selfishly hoped they lingered.

“Did you…?”

Joke shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, and he meant it. Seeing Jack lose control like that, knowing it was because of him—it had been worth it.

Jack frowned at him. He shifted, and Joke winced as Jack slipped out of him. Jack sat back and tied off the condom, setting it gingerly on the bedside table. There was a limit to what he would throw on the floor, apparently.

“Let me,” he murmured, kissing a path down Joke’s throat.

He stopped to take one nipple and then the other into his mouth, sucking and teasing until they were peaked and red. Joke clenched down on nothing and whined. He was decidedly too empty for this.

“Jack—”

Jack ignored him, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of Joke’s stomach. He bit into Joke’s hipbone, and Joke shuddered.

Jack’s breath was hot on his skin as he continued his way down, skirting around Joke’s aching cock to get his mouth on the inside of his thighs. Joke's body was going to be littered with bruises by the time Jack was done with him. The thought of going to work, of hiding Jack's handiwork under his suit… Joke's cock twitched again, drawing Jack's attention.

When he finally took Joke into his mouth, Joke yelled. Jack swallowed him down, his hand covering what his mouth couldn’t reach. He twirled his tongue around the head of Joke’s cock and sucked, making Joke’s toes curl. Joke’s fingers twined themselves in Jack’s hair, gripping the strands hard enough to make Jack moan around him. Joke was torn—he wanted to push Jack down further and keep him there until he ran out of air. He wanted to yank Jack’s head up just enough to see his eyes, watery and wide, and the way his lips stretched around Joke’s length.

“I’m gonna—” Joke tried to warn Jack about his impending orgasm.

In response, Jack ran his hand up Joke’s stomach to his chest, thumbing at a sore nipple. That was all it took to do Joke in. He came with a muffled shout, biting into the meat of his palm as his vision whited out. He was made of sensation, his nerves sparking as he spilled into Jack’s mouth. He shuddered as Jack milked him, not pulling off until Joke started to soften in his mouth.

Jack climbed back up and fell down on Joke’s chest, his body weighing Joke down in the best way.

Joke panted, trying to catch his breath. “Holy—”

“—fuck,” Jack agreed. He laughed, and Joke felt the vibrations run through his body.

Joke wrapped his arms around Jack and started carding his fingers through his hair. Jack sighed and tried to burrow in even closer.

“We should clean up,” Joke said, halfheartedly. He didn't want to move from this spot for the rest of his life.

Jack mumbled something incoherent into the skin of Joke’s throat.

“What was that?”

"I'm comfortable," Jack protested.

“Oh, I see. So you’re just gonna do that to me and not take responsibility?” Joke teased.

“We used a condom and, if you recall, you came down my throat. What cleanup is there, really?”

Joke flushed at Jack's words. “Fine," he acquiesced, "but next time I expect to be pampered.”

“Next time, I expect to be the one needing pampering," Jack said nonchalantly.

“Deal,” Joke whispered.

He listened to Jack’s breathing as it evened out. He fumbled for the blanket and dragged it over them, careful not to jostle the sleeping man on top of him. He closed his eyes and dozed, Jack's body warm on top of his.

When Joke blinked his eyes open an unknown amount of time later, sunlight was streaming through his bedroom windows. The smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen made his stomach grumble, and he turned his head to see a topless Jack stepping into the room.

“Hey," Joke said, not even attempting to hide the growing grin on his face.

“Hey," Jack answered with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Joke yawned and stretched, his muscles protesting at the movement. He wasn't upset by the pain or anything; if anything, he was grateful for it. It meant that last night hadn't been a dream. A really, really good dream.

Jack's brow furrowed as he caught Joke's wince. “Here, roll over.”

Jack helped him roll over onto his stomach and moved the blanket off him, exposing him to the cool air of the room.

Despite Jack already seeing him naked and having various parts of his body inside him, Joke felt vulnerable. He wished he could see Jack’s face. They needed to talk about it, this thing that had happened between them.

“Jack, what…?”

“I should’ve taken care of you after,” Jack said, regret in his voice. “I wasn't an attentive partner, and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

Honestly, Joke wasn't used to aftercare. He often handled the cleanup and then made himself scarce, taking care of any needs of his own in the privacy of his own home. His heart melted a bit at Jack’s gentle insistence on taking care of him.

Jack pressed a warm washcloth to the back of Joke’s neck, making him shiver. He brought the washcloth over Joke’s back, wiping away any residual sweat from his skin. He worked his way down, rinsing the cloth as he went, until he made it down to Joke’s ass. Jack wiped gently at Joke’s still-sensitive skin, careful and gentle. They had used a condom, but the thoughtfulness behind the gesture wasn’t lost on Joke. Jack worked his way down Joke’s thighs, paying special attention to where Joke knew he would develop bruises from Jack’s mouth.

Joke relaxed as Jack worked. He was so content he almost fell asleep, only to be jolted back to awareness by something warm dripping between his cheeks, making him flinch.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jack muttered.

Whatever it was smelled pretty, like the lotus flowers that bloomed in the countryside.

“Do you always have this on hand or?” Joke asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“I use it after the gym,” Jack explained, his fingers carefully massaging the oil into where Joke was sure he was still swollen and red.

The image of Jack oiling himself up and massaging those incredible muscles that had been on full display earlier had Joke shifting against the sheets. He needed to calm down; he wasn't a teenager anymore.

“I also made lunch, if you’re hungry.” Jack’s hands worked on spreading the oil up to Joke’s lower back, his thumbs rubbing circles into the tender muscles there.

“A bodyguard, a masseuse, and a chef? How did I get so lucky?”

Jack laughed. Joke could imagine him ducking his head bashfully, a blush on his cheeks.

“I think it’s best if I don’t answer that, to be honest. I don’t want to invoke the name of your father in the sanctity of your bedroom.”

Joke shuddered. “You’re right, let’s not do that.”

“Okay, all done,” Jack declared. Joke felt his weight leave the bed, and he rolled over, the soreness already lessened.

“Jack, wait,” he said as Jack moved towards the door. Jack paused, and it took Joke a moment to realize Jack was wearing a pair of his boxers. “Um—sorry, I just—shouldn’t we talk about this?”

Jack paused at the door, his shoulders tense. “Talk about what?”

“This,” Joke said, gesturing between them. “You and me.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“You—” Joke was so confused. “I mean, Jack, you just fucked me. Don’t you think that might… change things? Between us?”

Jack's shoulders fell as he sighed.

Oh. Oh no. "Unless… you don't want it to change anything? Or… mean anything?"

Silence.

Joke’s heart rate skyrocketed as he reached to bring the blankets around himself in some semblance of armour. He could feel his breathing hitch, but he wouldn't cry. Not now, not naked in his own bed.

"No, you're right. We should talk about it, I just…" Jack walked back over to the bed and sat on the edge. Joke wanted to reach out to him, but he wasn't sure if he was allowed.

"I don't know what you want this to mean," Joke started, filling the silence, "but I know what I want it to mean. You know how I feel about you, Jack. And I think you feel the same way about me."

"I do," Jack whispered, not meeting Joke's eye.

Hope—that silly, traitorous emotion—started to flutter in Joke's stomach. "Is that… is that a bad thing?"

"No, it's not bad. It's… complicated."

Joke's conversation with Aran replayed in his head. "Because of my father, right?"

"Right. Yeah." Jack fidgeted with his hands, still avoiding eye contact.

If that was the only thing holding Jack back, Joke could work with that.

"Okay, well. He doesn't have to know."

Jack finally looked at him, a frown on his face.

"I'm serious. I don't care if he ever knows. It's none of his business what we are to each other. If we—if you want this, who cares about him?" Joke reached out slowly, not wanting to spook Jack when he still looked so unsure, and took his hand. "All that matters is us, yeah?"

Jack nodded. He looked small and uncertain, and Joke hated it.

"We don't need to put a label on this at all, if that makes you more comfortable." Joke wanted to put a label on it so badly. He wanted to tell anyone who would listen that Jack was his and he was Jack's, but he could live without that. He would live in secret with Jack forever, with no labels at all, if it meant Jack would accept this. Accept him.

Jack's head whipped back up. There was a fierce look in his eyes, and Joke clutched his hand tighter. "No," he said, his voice stronger than before. "You deserve better than that."

"I don't mind, I promise. Whatever you want." Joke would give Jack anything if it meant keeping him like this. "We don't have to label it, we don't have to change anything, not really. Just… maybe we do this again. Maybe, I dunno… maybe we go on dates. We can invite Tattoo and Aran; it doesn't have to be a big deal. We already spend our downtime together, so that can stay the same, unless you want less of that, which is fine too." Joke was afraid of scaring Jack away, but he was more afraid of not being honest about his feelings. Especially when honesty is what got them to this point in the first place.

"Joke…"

"I don't want to lose you, Jack. Not—" Joke stopped himself from saying again. "Not now. So, whatever you need, whatever I can do to make you feel comfortable with me, I'll do it." Joke was aware of how desperate he sounded, but so be it.

"You're too self-sacrificing for your own good, you know that?" Jack's voice was as soft as his eyes.

He was probably right, but Joke could unpack that later. "I just want you, Jack. However you'll let me have you."

Jack hummed, his head tilted in thought. "Truth or dare?" he asked, his hands now gripping Joke's tightly.

"What?"

"Truth or dare?" Jack repeated, a smile growing on his face.

"Dare," Joke whispered. His heart was in his throat.

Jack smiled. "Be my boyfriend."

Boyfriend . Joke had never had one of those before.

"Are you sure…?" He needed to hear it again, just in case he was hallucinating. He didn't know what he had done in a past life to deserve this, but he sent up a prayer of thanks to whatever god might be listening.

"Joke," Jack whispered, bringing a hand up to cup Joke's cheek. "Be my boyfriend."

Not a hallucination, then. Jack was being serious; he wanted this, he wanted Joke.

"Okay," Joke breathed as he pulled Jack towards him into a kiss that felt like forever.

Lunch could wait.

Chapter Text

It had only been two days, but Joke had already decided he liked this having-a-boyfriend business.

The things that made Jack so good at his job—his attentiveness, his genuine care for Joke’s well-being, the importance he placed on Joke’s happiness—all made him an exceptional boyfriend. Joke assumed, anyway. He didn’t have any other experience to compare it to, but he was happy, and Jack seemed happy, and that was all that mattered.

They were lying on the couch, Joke with his head in Jack’s lap as Jack read over the notes for Joke’s pitch meeting out loud. Joke’s eyes were closed as he listened to the presentation they had come up with together for the umpteenth time, trying to commit it to memory.

“And then if they have any questions that we haven’t prepared for, tell them you’ll get back to them,” Jack said, closing the folder and tossing it on the coffee table. He made it sound so easy.

Joke sighed and flopped an arm over his face. “I’m going to butcher this.”

“You're not going to butcher it.” Jack lifted Joke’s arm and pressed a kiss to his hand.

Joke’s heart leapt. He was still getting used to the casual affection that came with dating, especially when Jack initiated it. For someone who once had walls as tall as the Magnolias Waterfront, Jack was surprisingly open with semi-public displays of affection. So far, that had mostly consisted of holding Joke's hand over the centre console of the car and leading him into the elevator with a steady hand on his back, but both moves were incredibly intimate, as far as Joke was concerned.

“You’ll be there, right?” Joke knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Jack say it again anyway. Just in case.

“They’d have to put up one hell of a fight to keep me out of that room,” Jack reassured him. “We’ve gone over the presentation a hundred times. You might not feel like you know it, but you do. I promise, it’s all in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Aww, you think my head’s pretty?” Joke batted his eyelashes. Maybe if he was lucky, they'd stop talking about this stupid meeting and kiss instead.

“You know I do.” Jack leaned down to press a kiss to Joke’s forehead. Close, but not exactly the kind of kiss Joke was hoping for. “Now, stop deflecting. Let's go over it one more time, yeah? And then once you nail it—which I know you will—I'll treat you to lunch. Sound good?”

“Sounds amazing,” Joke sighed. And if it came out dreamy and lovesick, that was no one's business but his own.

xxXxx

One of Jack's favourite things about dating Joke was how open Joke was with his affection. He didn't do anything half-assed, and Jack was learning that mentality extended to relationships. It wasn't always big, grand gestures—although Joke had offered to buy Jack a new iPad when he lost the charging cable to the one he had been using. It was smaller moments as well, like the way Joke rested his hand on Jack's thigh in the car just to have some sort of physical contact. The feeling of his fingers drawing unconscious, absentminded shapes on the fabric of Jack's pants as Joke pored over more meeting notes on his phone—it was soft. Softer than Jack thought he deserved.

It was only when Jack pulled up to the curb outside Ama's house that Joke lifted his head, blinking as he took in their surroundings.

“I thought we were going for lunch,” he said, confused. “Why are we at Ama's?”

“We are going for lunch,” Jack said, putting the car in park. “Ama's making dumplings.”

“But—wait—” Joke quickly removed his hand from Jack's thigh.

Jack stared at the spot Joke's hand had just been, confused. “Are you okay? What's… what's going on?”

“Why are we here?” Joke's voice was tight as he stared through the windshield.

“To visit Ama…?”

“Is that the only reason?” Joke finally looked at him, his expression guarded.

“Well, I thought… I thought we could tell her.”

“Tell her.”

“Yeah, I thought… Isn't that what you wanted?” Had he missed something? Joke was the one who had said he wanted them to be a couple. He was the one who wanted people to know—the right people. Was Ama not one of them?

Joke sighed, deflating a bit. “No, it is, I just…” He looked out the window, trailing off.

“Hey.” Jack gently grabbed Joke's chin, turning his face towards him. “What's happening? Talk to me.”

“What if she doesn't like me?” The words came out in a rush.

“What are you talking about? She loves you. She wouldn't stop talking about how I needed to bring you back. Apparently, you're the only one who truly appreciates her 'culinary prowess.' Her words, not mine.”

That earned a tiny smile from Joke, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. “No, I know she liked me last time.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Cocky, are we?”

Joke sighed. “Jack, I'm serious. Last time was different.”

“How?”

“Last time, I met Ama as your friend.”

“Mhm.” Jack gave a slow nod, not seeing the issue.

“This is different. This is meeting her as your…” Joke trailed off, blushing slightly.

“Boyfriend,” Jack supplied, smiling. The word still sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

He’d never been in a relationship before. Girls had asked, but he just hadn't been interested. He hadn’t even hooked up with anyone since he met Joke; the opportunity had arisen, but he declined the advances every time. He’d brushed it off as a stress response at the time, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been waiting for Joke the whole time.

“Boyfriend, yeah,” Joke said. “What if she doesn’t approve? I don’t want to come between you two.”

“Joke, she said you might be her grandson someday," Jack reminded him, his tone gentle. He belatedly realized that maybe he should have paid more attention to the way his heart had somersaulted when Ama said that.

“Grandmas say things like that, it doesn't mean they actually mean them,” Joke protested, waving a hand dismissively.

“Does it not?” Jack kind of thought it did, in this case.

“Well… I don't actually know. But my point stands.”

“And what point is that?”

“That I'm… me. I'm a man. Dating you.”

Jack tilted his head, not saying anything for a moment. He studied Joke's face; he thought he understood the reason for Joke’s hesitancy now, but he wanted to be sure. “Which part do you think she won't approve of? Your being a man, or your being you?”

Joke stiffened. Jack could see him withdraw into himself and pull his Khongsuk heir mask on. Jack hadn't seen it in weeks now; Joke no longer feeling the need to wear it around him.

“Some people aren't as accepting as others,” Joke said coolly, averting his gaze again. Jack recognized the deflection, heard the words Joke wasn't saying.

The idea of Ama not accepting Joke had never occurred to him. Jack knew Ama was progressive in her views and accepting of anyone and everyone. The first time Jack brought Tattoo over, he and Ama had spent the better part of an hour discussing the best way for Tattoo to get Aran to realize he liked him.

“Ama isn't 'some people,' Joke. She's not going to disown me for dating a man, and she definitely isn't going to disown me for dating you.”

“How do you know that, though” Joke whispered, mask cracking.

“Because,” Jack said, moving to cradle Joke's cheek, “I know her. And, more importantly, I know you. You are impossible not to like. People would have to be crazy not to accept you as you are.”

The grimace on Joke’s face told Jack just how many times Joke had encountered those people.

“Does she know you're interested in men?”

Jack paused before answering.

The truth was, he had never discussed his sexuality with Ama because, frankly, it had never come up. Jack had exclusively fooled around with girls growing up; the first man he had ever really felt anything for had been Joke. Jack wasn't even sure what he'd label himself as… Bisexual, maybe? He had never been attracted to anyone the way he was to Joke. No one had ever caught and held his attention the same way; he had never wanted anyone the way he wanted Joke. Maybe he was Joke-sexual.

“She doesn't, no. I've never really expressed interest in men before.”

Joke blinked at him. “You've never been with a man before?”

“No.” Jack shrugged. It truly wasn't a big deal to him.

“Oh my god. You're a baby gay?”

Jack huffed a laugh. “I don't know what I am. It really doesn't matter to me, anyway. I'm attracted to you. I want to be with you. That's what matters.”

Jack watched the words hit, saw Joke relax slightly as they did.

“Do you really think she'll be okay with this? With me?” Joke's voice was small, but at least he looked like himself again.

“I really do.” Jack smiled, coaxing a small matching smile out of Joke. “Come on, let’s go before she starts thinking we stood her up.”

Jack walked around to open Joke's door and took his hand to lead him into the house. He didn't hold on too tightly, giving Joke space to take his hand back if he needed to. Whatever made him comfortable.

“Ama?” Jack called as they stepped into the main room. It was slightly cooler than outside, and the air smelled like chives and garlic.

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by Ama poking her head around the corner. “Jack! I was beginning to think you weren't coming. Let me wash my hands, hold on—” She disappeared back into the kitchen, the rest of her sentence lost in the sound of running water.

Uncertainty was plain as day on Joke's face. Jack hated it.

“We don't have to tell her if that would make you feel more comfortable,” he suggested. It wasn't lost on him that he had been the one to hesitate about defining their relationship when Joke first brought it up. Now, all he wanted to do was shout from the rooftop about how much Joke meant to him.

Well, that wasn't quite true. There was one thing he wanted more—Joke's happiness. And if that happiness balanced on telling Ama or not, Jack would keep it a secret for as long as Joke wanted.

“I just… I don't want you to lose your family because of me. What you and Ama have… I'm not worth losing that, Jack.”

And that broke Jack's heart. To hear Joke discount himself like that, when everything Jack had seen in their time together so clearly pointed to the contrary. Jack knew that Joke's family life wasn't exactly healthy, but in that moment, he realized Joke had never had anyone in his corner. He had never had anyone root for him, sacrifice for him, love him the way he deserved.

“I'm not going to lose anyone, but even if I did, you are worth it.”

“Jack, you can't just—you don't—”

Jack shrugged, trying to pretend his heart wasn't pounding with the weight of his admission. Joke looked like he might cry, his eyes growing red around the edges.

“Seriously, we don't have to tell her. But I think she'd like to know that I'm happy. Looked after.”

“I…”

“Lunch is ready!” Ama came flying out of the kitchen carrying a steaming plate of dumplings.

“Let me help,” Jack insisted, dropping Jack's hand to take the plate from Ama.

“You're a dear.” Ama reached up to pat Joke's blushing cheek. “Now, why has it taken you so long to bring this sweet boy back to visit me?” Ama turned her attention on Jack, a frown on her face.

“Ama, I’ve told you, he’s busy.” Jack didn't miss the look on Joke’s face at Ama's words—the small, hopeful smile as he busied himself with refolding the napkins on the table.

“It's my fault I haven't been back, Ama, not Jack's,” Joke said, keeping his eyes on the tabletop.

“He's been preparing for a big meeting he has coming up at work.” Jack couldn't help the pride that coloured his voice. Joke had been working so hard, and he was almost there; how was Jack not supposed to brag? He saw Joke blush, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well,” Ama said, gesturing for them to sit, “you can't prepare properly on an empty stomach.”

“Thank you, Ama.” Joke sounded grateful as he took a seat.

Joke reached for the serving spoon right as Jack did, their hands meeting in the middle of the table. There was a moment of hesitation where they let their hands linger before Joke snatched his back. The feeling of Ama's eyes on him was impossible to ignore as Jack spooned out dumplings for them all while Joke sat back in his chair, avoiding eye contact with everyone. There was a quiet tension in the air, but no one said anything. It was like they were all waiting for someone else to break it first.

Jack felt for Joke's hand under the table, finding it clenched against his thigh, tendons taut. Joke's eyes shot to him as Jack pried his fist open and laced their fingers together. He raised his eyebrows, hoping Joke understood what he was trying to ask.

Joke hesitated, closing his eyes for just a second. When he opened them again, he nodded, his eyes wide and scared. Jack didn't think Joke's courage would ever cease to amaze him.

Turning to Ama, Jack took a breath to steady himself. “Ama, there's something I want to tell you.”

Ama put her fork down with a dumpling still speared on the end. She sat a little straighter, her face serious.

Joke stared at his plate, his hand shaking in Jack's. Jack stroked the thin skin of Joke's hand with his thumb, trying to comfort him.

“The other day, I asked Joke to be my boyfriend,” Jack began. Ama's face didn't change as she kept her eyes on Jack's. “He said yes.”

Joke's grip on Jack's hand was like a vice.

“I—we, wanted you to be the first to know.”

Ama sat quietly for a moment before nodding. She turned to Joke, who sat up taller in his seat as he met her gaze. “Does he take care of you?”

Joke blinked a couple times, processing the question. “He does, Ama. He takes the best care of me.” Joke's voice didn't shake as he said the words, and Jack's chest swelled with pride.

“And you take care of him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“He does,” Jack murmured.

Joke turned to look at him, his eyes shining. There was a small smile playing on his lips, soft and just for Jack.

Ama turned back to Jack, tears in her eyes to match Joke's. “Then I'm happy for you both. As long as you have someone to care for and who cares for you, nothing else matters.”

Joke nodded, surreptitiously wiping a tear off his cheek.

“I had a feeling something was going on between you last time,” Ama continued, picking up her fork and taking a bite of dumpling like this sort of thing happened every day. “Grandmas know these things.”

The rest of the meal passed normally, conversation covering all the usual bases: work, the market, Ama's neighbourhood book club that Jack was pretty sure was just an excuse to sit around and gossip while drinking a little too much. Joke came back out of his shell, teasing and joking at Jack's expense. Jack let it happen just to hear Joke's laugh.

When they said their goodbyes, Ama pulled them both into a fierce hug, stronger than her tiny frame should be capable of.

“I'm so glad he has you,” she said, and Jack wasn't sure if she was talking to him or Joke. “Don't wait forever before coming back. And bring that Tattoo boy with you next time. I want to hear how wooing Aran is going.”

“Don't worry, Ama,” Joke said. “I'm making sure he's on the right track.”

“I'd expect nothing less,” she teased.

“We'll bring them both for a visit,” Jack promised, holding the car door open for Joke.

“Let me know beforehand so I can make sure there's enough food!”

With a promise to do just that, Jack climbed into the car to a smiling Joke waving at Ama through the windshield. Jack pulled away from the curb and watched Ama wave in the rearview mirror until they turned the corner.

Joke sat back in his seat and sighed. It sounded content, like the sigh he gave when Jack tucked him into his side before they fell asleep.

“So?” Jack asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road and off Joke's face.

“So what?”

“Was that as bad as you thought it was going to be?” Jack glanced at Joke, wanting to be able to gauge his reaction to the question.

Joke blushed, looking sheepish. “No. That was… better than I could have hoped for.”

Jack relaxed. That was exactly the response he was hoping for. “I told you—she loves you,” he said with a small shake of his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” Joke mumbled. “If you're not careful, I'll take your favourite grandson title.”

Jack gasped and clutched his chest. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me, Joke challenged, twisting in his seat to face Jack properly. “We'll see who her favourite is after I learn how to make her dumplings by myself.”

“Well, you're family now, so I guess it's a fair contest.”

Jack felt the air in the car shift and glanced over again. Joke's mouth was hanging open, his eyes wide.

“Do you… do you mean that?”

“What? That you're family?”

Joke nodded. The hope in his eyes was palpable. Jack mentally kicked himself; he should have pulled over for this conversation. Or waited until they were home and he was able to fold Joke into his arms.

“Of course I do,” he said, reaching across the centre console to take Joke's hand. He really, truly meant it. What else would Joke be, if not family? They were boyfriends, yes, but it went deeper than that. At least, that's how Jack saw it. "And if you think you have a chance of escaping, it's far too late. Ama would never hear of it."

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Joke swore, clutching Jack's hand like a tether.

Jack twisted his wrist and brought Joke's hand up, pressing a small kiss to it. “Good.”

xxXxx

The day of the pitch meeting started slow. Joke made coffee and tea while Jack cooked what he called a “well-balanced breakfast.” To Joke, it looked like a lot of vegetables and not nearly enough of anything else, but he ate it without complaint. Joke got his outfit ready while Jack organized the info packets that would be handed out as visual aids.

It was still early; Joke's father had told him to hold off on coming into the office until the meeting at 10:00. Joke was stuck in that manic waiting period, and he had only just managed to stop pacing a hole in the living room floor. He was on the couch now, trying to magically become an expert on meditation. So far, all he had managed was conjuring up elaborate daydreams of taking Jack's shirt off and laying him back against the couch cushions.

The sound of Jack's phone ringing interrupted Joke's reverie just as it was getting good, making him jump. He was too wound up for his own good.

“What?”

Joke looked up at the sharp tone of Jack's voice. He frowned, mouthing what's wrong over the back of the couch.

Jack held up a finger, his brow furrowed. “I'll get him there, don't worry.” Jack hung up the phone and swept a hand roughly through his hair.

“Jack? What's wrong?” Joke felt his anxiety crank up a notch at the look on Jack's face.

"They moved up the meeting,” Jack said, his voice laced with frustration. “It starts in half an hour.”

Joke sat there, his mouth agape as his brain worked to process Jack's words. “Half an hour?”

Jack recognized Joke's panic immediately, rushing over to where he sat, still computing. “Hey, it's okay.”

“Why would they move it up? Who told you? Did my father call?”

“No, Save did. He thought you might not know.”

Save. Not his father. Joke tried and failed to quiet the voice in his head crying sabotage.

“You've got this. You know what you're talking about, it's all up here, remember?” Jack pressed a finger to Joke's forehead, soothing out the frown lines between his eyes.

“Right. Yeah.”

“I promise, you can do this. Go get dressed, and I'll put your coffee in a to-go cup. It's gonna be fine.”

Fine. Yeah. Joke was going to be totally fine.

If Jack broke a few traffic laws on the way to the office, that was between him, Joke, and whatever god reigned over cars and pitch meetings.

They practically ran through the lobby and into the elevator. “Do I look okay?” Joke asked, clutching his briefcase. It had been a birthday gift from his father, but he'd never bothered to use it before. He was truly pulling out all the stops for this meeting.

“You look great.” Jack reached up to straighten Joke's tie and smooth out his collar. “Like someone who's about to crush a pitch meeting.”

Save looked up from his computer as they approached his desk. “They only just started,” he relayed quickly. “Khun Khongsuk didn't tell me he was moving the meeting up, or I would have let you know sooner. Hope found out and told me. I called as soon as I could.”

“It's okay,” Jack said, pausing for just a moment. “We appreciate it.”

Save smiled, turning to Joke. “Good luck in there, Khun. You're gonna do great.”

“Th-thank you,” Joke stuttered.

Save wai'd as Jack steered Joke towards the boardroom.

“You've got people in your corner,” Jack murmured, his hand warm on Joke's lower back. “More than you realize.”

Joke was beginning to understand that. He hadn't expected an ally in his father's bodyguard and secretary, but here he was, grateful for them nonetheless.

“You go in first,” Jack said, falling back a couple steps. “I'll sneak in the back. Blow them away, baby.”

Oh. Joke didn’t realize they were at the nickname stage already. He blushed, his heart flipping in his chest.

“Okay.” He wished he sounded a little more sure, but it was as good as it was going to get. He took a deep breath and spared one last glance at Jack to steady himself before pushing the door open with a force he hoped came across as assertive and not desperate.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” Joke said firmly, wai-ing deeply as he entered the room. “I hope you’ll forgive the interruption, but I would hate to miss such an important meeting.” He snuck a glance at his father, noting the carefully curated blank expression on his face.

There was no hint of neither disappointment nor relief. Did he want Joke to have made the meeting or not? Was this a test? If so, Joke was determined to pass.

“Ah, the prodigal son has decided to show his face,” one of the board members joked as the back door to the room opened, signalling Joke’s arrival.

A smattering of light chuckles filled the room, Joke’s father among them. Joke didn’t react—he wouldn't let them know their words got to him. He worked his ass off for this, and he was going to prove to them that he should be taken seriously.

The men sitting around the long table exchanged knowing glances. Most of them had been partners with his father for years now, and were no stranger to Joke—or his reputation. He took another deep, calming breath before addressing the room again.

“What I’ve brought before you today isn't the proposal I was asked to prepare. I know it’s practically expected for me to deviate from the script,” Joke said, letting self-deprecation colour his words, “but if you’ll allow me to present, I’ll prove that this is something the company could really benefit from. I’ve been working on this for weeks now,” he added, looking at his father as he spoke, willing his composure to crack just enough to give Joke a hint at his feelings.

His father gave him a long, hard look, like he was searching for something. Joke refused to squirm under it; he wouldn’t show weakness, not now. Not when he was so close to finally doing something right.

After an excruciating moment of silence, his father finally spoke. “By all means,” his father said, gesturing. The signet ring on his finger caught the sun, sending fractals of light across Joke’s face. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”

A surge of hope flooded Joke's system. He handed out the packets he and Jack had prepared to all the attendees and let them peruse them for a moment. He was absurdly proud of the work that had gone into making them. He and Jack had gone to the school and asked permission to write up features on some of the kids as a way to highlight the good that would come from supporting it. As his father opened his packet, Joke saw Toi Ting's toothy grin, and his heart swelled with affection.

The next few minutes were a blur. Joke hit all the beats perfectly, referring to the colour-coded projections and graphs as he went. He wanted to look at Jack, but he knew that if he did, he’d lose his place. It was enough to know he was there, supporting him as best he could. The only measure he had for how the presentation was going were the small nods and thoughtful looks coming from the investors.

When he finally stopped speaking, the room was silent. The only thing Joke could hear was his heartbeat in his ears; the only thing he could see was Jack’s wide smile.

The silence around him stretched for so long, Joke thought perhaps they hadn’t realized he was finished, but then one clap sounded. Then another, and another.

“This is a great idea, Khongsuk.”

“We’ve been losing favour with the public. This could be just the thing to get us back in their good graces.”

“This will look much better to the public than those condos you were talking about earlier.”

Joke could hardly believe what he was hearing. They… liked it? They were actually considering his ideas. Separate conversations were popping up between a few of them, ideas and suggestions flowing. Joke caught Jack’s eye, overcome by the pride he saw reflected in Jack’s face. I did that, he thought. He's proud of me.

He had done it. Now there was just one person standing between him and success.

Joke turned to his father. He was leaning back in his chair, his hands folded in front of his face. Joke couldn’t read his expression, which made him feel cautiously optimistic. Surely, his father could see what a success this would be. He had to. Joke glanced at Hope, standing in the corner of the room by the windows like always. He nodded, an expression that looked almost like a smile cracking his usual blank face.

As the volume of the room rose, more voices joining in discussions about sponsors and locations, Joke’s father raised his hands.

"Okay, I can tell we’re all intrigued by my son’s proposal,” he said in that voice he saved for investors and reporters. It was his charming voice, and Joke didn’t know how to take it. "Let’s call it a day and collect our thoughts. We’ll meet about this again next week,” he continued, standing.

The other men followed suit, wai-ing as they began filing out of the boardroom.

"Joke.” Joke startled at the sound of his name. Gone was the charm his father had been exuding earlier; this was the person Joke was familiar with. "My office. Now.”

Joke glanced at where Jack was still standing at the back of the room, his face now pulled into a frown. It’s okay, he mouthed, nodding in reassurance. He didn’t want Jack to worry, even as his own pulse spiked with anxiety. He grabbed the packet his father left behind on the table, tucking it back into his briefcase as he followed him out of the room.

The walk to his father’s office was silent. Joke smiled at Save as they passed his desk; he looked concerned as he answered Joke's smile with a small one of his own. Joke made a mental note to ask Jack about Save and Hope. Were they together? The way Save had mentioned Hope earlier made it seem like they were closer than a bodyguard and secretary had any right to be. If that was the case, maybe they could be trusted with his and Jack's secret.

Had Jack already told them? They seemed friendly with each other, definitely more than just work colleagues. If they knew, did that mean Tattoo knew as well? Perhaps surprisingly, it didn't bother Joke if they knew. If Jack trusted them, so did he.

When they arrived at Joke's father's office, Joke waited as his father closed the door gently; the kind of gentle that was forcefully restrained.

“Sit.”

Joke did as instructed, taking the seat across the desk from his father. He waited, trying not to fidget under his pointed silence.

“Joke, sit up straight. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Joke attempted to straighten his already straight back. He didn’t want to give his father any ammunition.

“So,” his father continued, "this proposal of yours. How long have you been planning this?”

“A few weeks,” Joke answered, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. They had prepared for this, him and Jack. They both knew that Joke’s father questioning his motives was a possibility, so they had gone over some possible scenarios. "I got the idea when you asked me to look over the meeting notes. I wanted to surprise you with it." The words sounded juvenile, but they were the truth.

"Impressive.” It was the word Joke had been waiting for, but the tone was all wrong. "Truly, I didn’t think you had it in you.” The words were cruel, but Joke didn’t let them bother him. At least, not outwardly.

"This project is something I’m truly passionate about,” Joke explained, trying to keep his tone professional. "I think we can really make a difference in the kids’ lives, and—”

"The investors were keen on it, as I’m sure you gathered. But I didn’t invite you to be part of that meeting so you could pull a stunt like this.”

"Stunt…? Por, I put a lot of work into this. Look, you can see that I've run the numbers and everything.” Joke reached into his briefcase and pulled out the packet. Suphanimit School was written in big, block letters on the front. Joke had gotten Jack to teach him how to recognize those words before any others. "If you take a look, you’ll see what I see. Not only will this benefit a high-needs neighbourhood, it will help the company’s public image as well.” Joke opened the packet to Toi Ting's picture and placed it on the desk. His father barely glanced at it.

"And you expect me to believe you did all this work yourself?”

Joke took a steadying breath. They had practiced this. "I worked hard on this. This is my idea, and I want to see it succeed.”

"You want to see a school succeed? When you couldn’t even graduate without my help?”

"What?”

His father laughed. "Did you think you managed to graduate all on your own? Please. I made a lot of sizable donations to get you the grades you needed to finish school. I couldn’t have a high school dropout as an heir.”

Deep breaths. Don’t let him see that he’s rattled you, that’s what he wants. Jack’s words came floating back to him.

"I…” Joke cleared his throat. "This isn’t about me. This is about the kids and making sure they get access to a proper education.”

His father was silent, so Joke continued.

"There's no legitimate school anywhere close to that area of town. If the kids want to attend school, they have to travel halfway across the city, and their parents often work too-long hours to get them there. They're losing out on something we can so easily give them. With a proper education and a safe place to learn, those kids have much higher odds of making the right choices as they grow up. They will be less likely to commit crimes, more likely to contribute meaningfully to the workforce, and will be much less prone to violence.” Joke wasn't sure he had ever said so many words in a row to his father in his entire life.

"So they won’t turn out like you, then?” The smile on his father's face was more akin to a sneer.

Joke swore his teeth cracked with the force of him clenching his jaw. "This is not about me,” he said, forcing the words out. "My struggles in school, what I put you through—none of that matters. What matters is kids like her.” He jabbed his finger at the photo of Toi Ting’s smiling face. "I’m doing this for them.”

"And the company, right?”

Joke blinked, caught wrong-footed. "Of course. The company comes first."

His father hummed. "See that you remember it does. You may go; the board will discuss this further.”

With that, Joke was dismissed. He left the folder on the desk, knowing full well his father wouldn’t look through it. He fought to keep from wrenching the door open and managed to not slam it as he walked away.

When Joke approached, Jack was at Save’s desk with Hope, the three of them talking in hushed tones. They looked up in unison, and they must have seen something in his face because Save and Hope turned to look at each other, matching looks of concern on their faces.

"Go,” Save whispered to Jack, glancing back the way Joke had come. Looking for Joke’s father, he realized. Checking to see if the coast was clear.

"Come on, Joke,” Jack said softly. "Let’s go home.”

Through the haze of emotions running through him, Joke almost didn't notice Jack use his name instead of Khun in front of Save and Hope. Almost.

Joke let the steam from the shower fill the room as he undressed. He felt a little numb after the conversation with his dad and then the debrief with Jack.

Jack had taken him straight home, insisting that tomorrow, things would look better. He had immediately gotten to work on lunch. How was it only noon? The day felt like it had been a week long by the time Joke left the company building. A shower was what he needed now—he wanted to wash off the remains of what started as a great day.

The water was hot, almost scalding, when he stepped under the stream. He stood there and let it wash over him as the tears started to fall. He had spent the last few weeks working so hard, harder than he’d ever worked on anything before, on that proposal. All for his father to shut him down and belittle him at every turn.

He had foolishly hoped that maybe this would finally be the thing to earn his father’s respect, that maybe this time he wouldn’t be seen as the laughing stock of the family. But no, he should have known better.

“Joke?” Jack’s voice was muffled by the door as he knocked.

“In here,” Joke called, hoping his voice sounded steady. “You can come in.”

Jack poked his head around the shower door. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally fine.” A lie.

“You don’t look fine.” Of course, there was no hiding his feelings from Jack.

“I’m… I just thought—” Joke's voice shook and he dropped his head into his hands.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come here.” Jack stepped into the shower with him. Joke hadn’t even noticed him undressing.

He let Jack pull him close. “He knows exactly how to get under my skin, and I let it happen every time. I hate that he got to me.”

“I know. But his words don’t mean anything.” Jack ran his hand through the wet strands of Joke's hair, the motion more soothing than it had any right to be.

“How could they not?”

“Because he might be your father, but he doesn’t know you. He didn’t see the effort you put into this, he doesn’t know how hard you’ve worked since coming back.”

“I want him to be proud of me. Just once.” Joke mumbled into Jack's chest, feeling utterly sorry for himself.

“I’m proud of you,” Jack murmured, "if that counts for anything.”

“Of course it does.” It counted for everything.

“Good. You did such a good job today,” Jack said, running his hands down Joke’s back. “I loved seeing you at the front of that room, commanding everyone’s attention.” His voice dropped a couple octaves, sending the blood in Joke's body rushing south.

“Did you?” Now, Joke's voice was shaking for an entirely different reason.

“Mhm. You looked so good in that suit too.”

Joke gasped as Jack’s hands cupped his ass.

“But I was far more interested in what was under it,” Jack whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of Joke’s ear.

“Yeah?” Joke breathed, his knees threatening to buckle.

“Yeah. I know exactly what you look like out of that suit. I was trying to pay attention, but I couldn’t help but wonder what it might feel like to have this”—Jack reached between them and lightly grasped Joke’s growing erection—“inside me.”

Joke jolted in Jack's arms, his nails digging into the already marked up skin of Jack's back. “Jack, what—you can’t just—”

“Can’t I?” Jack asked, pulling away to look at Joke with innocent eyes completely at odds with what his hand was still doing. “This time, I want you to do it.”

Fuck.

Joke reached up to thread his fingers through Jack’s hair and pulled him down the few inches standing between them. Jack moaned into Joke’s mouth, and he swallowed the noise down and walked Jack backwards into the wall of the shower.

The rest of the day was theirs to spend as they wished, and Joke wanted to get a headstart on it.

Chapter Text

Joke had thought that preparing for the pitch meeting was going to be the hardest part of the whole thing. All that prep work and memorizing—the stuff of nightmares. Once it was all done, he’d figured he’d be free from obligations and expectations, at least for a little bit.

He was wrong.

It hadn’t taken long for the proposal to be approved, much to Joke’s surprise. Jack, being the perfect boyfriend that he was, had said it made sense because the proposal was fool-proof, but Joke had doubted himself. Or rather, he had doubted his father’s belief in him. With the approval came research, hunting for sponsors, and designing websites and the school’s branding. All things Joke had approximately zero experience or interest in. And really, why did a school even need branding?

He didn’t entirely mind the extra workload—he had wanted his father to take him seriously, and surely this was proof of him doing just that. It was a challenge, sure, but he had been working with Jack on developing tools to help him with the writing and reading aspects of it all, and he no longer felt like he was drowning in the letters that refused to stay still.

What Joke did mind, however, was how little free time it left him.

Even though Jack hadn’t gone anywhere, Joke missed him. He still saw him every day, obviously; they still lived together, and Jack was still his bodyguard, so they saw each other at work. But Joke had started staying late at the office and coming home exhausted. Any time spent at the apartment and fully conscious was dedicated to working on all the tasks Joke’s father had set him. It was… a lot, to say the least.

They ate meals and drove to the office together, but Joke had started bringing work home with him, which meant even mealtimes were no longer quality time spent together. They still slept in the same bed—Jack hadn't gone back to his bedroom since their first night together. It hadn't really been discussed, it just happened naturally, and Joke was thrilled with that development—but that was the problem. They mostly slept. What they needed was a night out, a night to not focus on work or anything else.

Today was one of those days where it felt like they had barely spoken to each other. Joke couldn’t even remember if he’d wished Jack a good day before disappearing into various boardrooms and offices for hours. Sometimes, if they were lucky, they were able to sneak away for lunch on the roof, but today had been brutally busy—Joke hadn’t even eaten the lunch Jack had packed for him.

It was late, and Joke thought he might fall asleep in his bowl of Tom Kha when Jack’s voice broke through his exhaustion.

“Earth to Joke. Hello?”

Ah, shit. How long had Jack been trying to get his attention? “Sorry, sorry. I’m here, what’s up?”

Jack chuckled from where he stood drying dishes. “I was saying Save and Hope want to meet you.”

“Meet me?” They’d met him plenty of times before at the office.

“Well, Save wants to meet you. Officially. In a not-work context. Hope will be there too, obviously, since they're kind of a package deal.”

Joke nodded. He had asked Jack about Save and Hope's situation after seeing them together the day of the meeting. He hadn't wanted to pry or cross lines—he was pretty sure he counted as their employer, in some roundabout way—but he found himself needing to know how they did it. The knowledge that they had been hiding their relationship from Joke's father and pretty much everyone in the building for over a year now was impressive.

They didn't exactly give off 'couple' vibes, which helped. Joke never would have pegged them as a couple—Save was soft and kind where Hope was hard and distant. Maybe that's why they worked. They were opposites, sure, but they completed each other. Like yin and yang.

“They offered a board game night at their place. Low-key, nothing too serious.”

“That sounds nice. Really nice, actually.” Joke had never been invited to a board game night before. His nights out used to consist of getting too close to blackout drunk and going home with whoever offered first. This sounded far more enjoyable.

“Tattoo and Aran are invited as well. I know we haven't spent a lot of time together just the two of us recently, but I thought this might be a good opportunity for you to meet my… my friends.”

It was so cute, the way Jack got embarrassed talking about his friends. He always hesitated before calling them that, but it was so obvious to anyone on the outside that the others absolutely considered Jack their friend. Joke caught him, Save, and sometimes Hope, chatting at Save's desk or in the security office more evenings than not. Tattoo had started bringing Top to Jack and Joke's self-defence training, using it less as a way to ensure Top had the skills to defend himself and more as a way to lovingly kick the shit out of Jack. Or, at least try. Jack was a bit of a beast on the mat.

Joke often wondered what kind of upbringing Jack must have had to lead to such hesitance and resistance, but he never asked. Their relationship was still too new, too fresh—the last thing he wanted was to risk upsetting Jack or overstepping.

“Do they know? About us?” Joke had seen the way Save looked at Jack when Joke left his father’s office the day of the meeting. Joke had thought about it in the days that followed and decided he didn’t mind if Save and Hope knew. They were in a similar situation to him and Jack, so what reason would they have to expose them?

“They know there might be an ‘us,’” Jack admitted, throwing the dish towel over his shoulder. “Apparently, I wasn’t exactly subtle about my feelings for you.” Jack rolled his eyes, and Joke fought to keep from laughing. “We don't have to tell them anything. I know them working so closely with your father is… less than ideal.”

Joke hummed. “Let’s see where the night takes us. I don’t want the whole night to revolve around us. I want to get to know them, too. I want to know your friends.”

A relieved smile grew on Jack's face. Was it relief at Joke wanting to hang out with his friends, or wanting to hang out at all? Joke made a mental note to ask for some time off soon. Maybe he and Jack could escape the city for a bit, head to the coast or the countryside. Joke could bring him to the family country house—on second thought, that sounded awful. He didn't want to bring Jack to the place in which he had spent a year pining over him. That sounded decidedly not relaxing.

“Great! I'll let Save know we'll be there. This Friday after work okay?”

“More than,” Joke said, excitement building. It felt like a milestone, meeting Jack's friends. First Ama, now the friend group—it all felt very normal. Very domestic. Joke loved it.

“Wait,” Joke said as Jack typed out a message on his phone. “Can we invite Top? I’ve been neglecting him as well, and I feel bad.”

“I’m sure no one will mind one extra Khongsuk son,” Jack teased.

A warm feeling settled in Joke’s chest. Friends. He was making friends.

Save and Hope lived in a decent part of town—close to the office but far enough removed that the cars were mid-range and the buildings didn't look like they were piercing the sky. It was nice, Joke thought as they pulled into the parking garage. It seemed far more his speed than the area he lived in.

“You know, I never really thought about it before,” he mused as the entered the elevator, thinking out loud.

“Thought about what?” Jack asked, pressing the button for the 8th floor.

“What my father does when Hope goes home. You stay with me, Tattoo stays across the hall from Top. But Hope has his own place.” The idea of his father having a boy young enough to be his son stay in the guest room of Joke’s childhood home was, frankly, both hilarious and chilling. What would his mother make of that situation?

“Your father has a home security team,” Jack explained, watching the floors tick by. “There's a team of four that make the rounds 24/7. They rotate out, of course, but there's always someone there. And the house staff are all trained just like we are. Although, I don't think they have to take the firearms course.”

“Firearms course?” Just when Joke thought there was no more Jack lore to learn, more was dropped in his lap.

“Mhm. The outside team is trained in them, obviously, but your father drew the line at the inside staff. I think your mother was against it—didn't like how it looked when they had guests over.”

“You're trained in guns?” Was Jack carrying one now? Joke stepped back and gave Jack a thorough once-over, not noticing any suspicious lumps or bulges.

“I don’t have one on me right now, so you can stop ogling me,” Jack said, laughing. “But, obviously, yeah, I’m ‘trained in guns.’” The air-quotes around the words made Joke roll his eyes.

“There's nothing obvious about that, Jack,” Joke sniffed, mildly offended. “I had no idea.”

“Maybe you’re just unobservant,” Jack teased, leading Joke out of the elevator when the doors opened. “It’s never come up, and let’s hope it never does, yeah?”

Joke kind of hoped it did come up. In a completely safe, sane fashion. He mused over that while Jack knocked on a door with a rainbow welcome mat that read, “Everyone Welcome.”

“Do you think Hope picked that out, or…?” Joke pointed at the mat, biting back a grin.

Jack followed Joke’s finger and let out a bark of laughter just as the door to apartment 811 opened up.

“You made it!” Save greeted them with a wide smile. He looked younger outside the office. Did Joke look different too? Less heavy, maybe? Happier? He certainly felt different when he wasn’t at work.

“We brought beer,” Jack said, holding up the case he had insisted on carrying by himself.

“Excellent. Tattoo brought snacks, and Hoy is attempting to make hors d'oeuvres.” There was a yell and a crash from the depths of the apartment, and Save sighed, closing his eyes. “That better not have been—”

“Hoy! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Joke recognized Hope's voice.

“Okay, please make yourselves comfortable. I have to go save Hoy from my boyfriend.”

“Who’s Hoy?” Joke whispered as he closed the door behind them.

Jack heaved a sigh. “Long story. Let’s say hi to everyone and I can explain.”

They toed off their shoes, adding them to the pile next to the door. Joke followed the sound of laughter to a spacious living room filled with cozy chairs and colourful pillows. Leaning against them, gasping for breath, were Top and Aran. Tattoo was perched on the coffee table, watching the two of them with a pleased grin on his face.

“What have we interrupted here?” Jack asked, amused.

“Oh, I was just telling them about the first time we sparred. Do you remember? It was right after you got hired.”

“That's so funny, I actually don't remember.” Jack forced a laugh, looking suspiciously twitchy. “I'm gonna take the beer to the kitchen—sorry, Save, what was that? You need help? Coming!”

Joke blinked at Jack's retreating form while Top and Aran sniggered into their hands. “Okay, I absolutely need to know what that was about,” he said, moving to the couch and flopping between Top and Aran. He made himself cozy as Tattoo leaned in conspiratorially.

“So, basically, we were sparring right? And Jack went to feint to the left—I read him, of course, he isn't as slick as he thinks he is—and right when he went to take a step, he—”

“Okay, food is ready!” Save's voice cut Tattoo off.

“Saved by Save,” Tattoo muttered. “I'll tell you the rest later,” he promised with a wink.

“I look forward to it,” Jack stage-whispered, winking at Jack as he entered the living room with two beers in hand. “Is one of those for me?”

“That depends,” Jack said, holding one just out of Joke's reach. “Do people who tease their boyfriends deserve such things?”

Silence fell over the room like a bomb.

Joke froze, his hand outstretched to grab the beer. He saw Jack's eyes widen as he realized his mistake.

“I—”

“Um—”

“Hors d'oeuvres are ready!” A loud voice made Joke jump and a man he could only assume was Hoy walked in holding a tray of steaming food. “Two of my favourite kinds of rolls—spring and egg! Get 'em while they're… hot… What did I miss?”

“Everyone, this is Hoy,” Save said weakly, gesturing to the man holding the tray.

Hoy shrugged his shoulder in an attempt at waving. He looked familiar, but Joke couldn't quite place him.

“I, um, I used to drive you, Khun. Until…” Hoy trailed off, glancing at Jack.

Jack flushed a deep red, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “I'm sorry about that," he said, sheepish. “I thought… Well, it sounds silly now, but I thought you were spying on Joke.”

Hoy nodded. “That’s fair, I can see how you’d come to that conclusion.”

“It's just, Khun Khongsuk knew so much, I figured he must have someone watching us, and you were the only one besides me who seemed to be everywhere Joke was, you know?”

“That’s a totally valid assessment to make,” Hoy said, shrugging. For someone who had been unjustly fired, Hoy seemed incredibly chill about the whole thing.

Joke didn’t know about the rest of the room, but he was following the conversation like a tennis match. He had never seen Jack look so uncomfortable in his own skin.

“I’m really sorry, I didn't think about the actual person I was getting fired. I feel horrible about it.”

“No worries, man. I totally get it, you gotta look out for your partner,” Hoy said, nodding sagely.

Jack flushed an even deeper shade of red. “Oh, no, we weren't—it was a totally professional relationship.”

Okay, it was about time for Joke to take pity on his poor boyfriend. Word vomit was a new look on him—it was oddly endearing. “Jack—”

“Right. Sure, whatever floats your boat. I’m just glad to see you and Khun Joke are still together.”

“No, we aren't—I mean, we weren't—”

“Jack!” This time, Joke raised his voice, finally getting Jack's attention. “I don't think it matters if we were or weren't together.”

“He's right,” Aran piped up from his spot next to Joke. “What matters is that you're together right now. Currently.” He dug his elbow into Joke’s ribs.

“Care to share with the class?” Tattoo asked, a wide-eyed, innocent look on his face.

“Please keep the details to a minimum,” Top begged.

Jack looked at him, his eyes apologetic, but Joke wasn’t upset. They had agreed to see how the night went, and really, why bother lying at this point?

Joke shrugged. “After you,” he said, sitting back against the couch.

Jack took a deep breath before speaking, “Joke and I are together. Dating.”

“And how long as this been going on?” Aran asked, glee evident in his tone.

“A couple weeks,” Jack sighed.

There was another beat of silence, this time less loaded, before several voices spoke at once.

“I knew it.”

“So obvious, honestly.”

“About time you said something, Jack, I mean really.”

“Sorry, was I the only one who didn't know this had happened?”

“So you were together?”

Side conversations erupted, and Joke was pretty sure he saw money change hands as Jack shook his head, resigned to his fate. Joke got up and tucked himself into Jack's side.

“Somehow, I think we were the last ones to figure out we were dating. Except maybe Top.” The poor boy looked vaguely ill as Tattoo and Aran did a deep-dive into the timeline of Jack and Joke’s new relationship.

“You'd be surprised at how often that happens around here,” Jack muttered, scowling.

“Hey now. Wipe that look off your face. People will think I’ve trapped you.”

“Heaven forbid,” Jack murmured, leaning down to plant a quick kiss to the corner of Joke's mouth.

There was a dramatic gasp behind them—Aran—and a chorus of wolf whistles from Hope and Tattoo.

Top had his face buried in his hands. “Keep your hands to yourselves in my presence, I beg of you.”

“Don't worry, Nong,” Joke said, ruffling Top's hair. “I won't scandalize you.”

Top muttered something about never sleeping over again, but Joke could barely hear him over the slight rushing in his ears.

They knew. They all knew, and none of them seemed shocked or put off. In fact, they all seemed thrilled, which was something Joke had hoped for but hadn't expected. He felt tears sting his eyes and saw the moment Jack noticed.

“This is a good thing,” Jack whispered. “Right?”

Joke nodded, leaning against Jack's shoulder to surreptitiously wipe his eyes on the dark fabric of Jack's shirt. “So good.”

He didn't have a lot of experience with friends, had never really understood the appeal of having a group of people around you that you weren't sure you could trust and who didn't seem to understand you, but he was beginning to get it.

Joke watched as Top got up and headed to the kitchen. Extracting himself from Jack, he followed his brother quietly.

He waited for Top to grab a fresh beer from the fridge before speaking, “I know I don’t really need your permission, but… you’re okay with this, right?”

Top whirled around, eyes wide. “Of course, Phi! I mean, we all knew something was going on between you two. I’m just glad the two of you finally figured it out.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“But…?”

Top sighed. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.”

Joke’s heart sank. “What are you worried about? He treats me right, and I do my best to do the same. I know I haven’t always been the most attentive, but—”

“Whoa, whoa. Phi, that is not what I’m talking about. Anyone with eyes can see how much you adore him.”

“Oh.” Joke blushed, embarrassed by his momentary spiral. “What are you worried about then?”

“I’m worried about Por,” Top admitted, looking uneasy. “What if he finds out?”

Joke sighed. He had the same concern. “We’re careful. And the only people who know are in this room—besides Jack’s grandmother, and I really don’t think she’d snitch on us.”

“Everyone here seems really cool, but are you sure you can trust them?”

“I genuinely think we can, yeah. They’re Jack’s—” Joke stopped himself. “No, they’re our friends.”

Top studied his face for a moment before nodding. “Friends. Sounds weird coming out of your mouth—I didn’t know you were capable of making those.” Top’s tone was teasing, all signs of worry having vanished from his features.

“Is that how you treat your elders?” Joke swatted at Top as he dodged past him, running back into the living room. Joke followed, pushing all thoughts of their father and his potential reactions out of his head. There was no point worrying about things that hadn’t happened.

Joining everyone back in the living room, Joke found himself opening up in a way he hadn’t since meeting Jack. Maybe it was because they all had something in common—Joke's father, humble beginnings, families with more wealth than they needed—or maybe it was the alcohol. Who could say, really?

“We should play a game.” The request came from Top, who was four beers in and looking a bit red around the ears.

“A game! I love games!” Aran was practically sitting in Tattoo's lap but he leaned forward to grab an empty beer bottle and set it on its side. “Truth or dare!”

Joke glanced at Jack. Jack smirked back at him, loose and open from the alcohol. Normally, Jack wasn't much of a social drinker, so Joke assumed he was also feeling comfortable and safe in the presence of their friends. Joke felt his cheeks heat as Jack held his gaze, his eyes darting down to his lips for a split second. When they got home, Joke was going to put his mouth to good use and demand Jack keep those eyes on him while he did.

Aran spun the bottle first, clapping with delight when it landed on Top. “Truth or dare?”

Top took a swig before answering. “Truth.”

Aran hummed. “Do you have a crush on anyone right now?”

“No,” Top said, almost too quickly.

Aran narrowed his eyes. “You picked truth.”

“And I told the truth,” Top insisted, grabbing the bottle to spin it.

Aran sat back, but the look on his face said that Top wouldn’t be getting away that easily. Joke didn’t know anything about a crush… what was his little brother hiding from him?

“Dare.” Hope didn't hesitate when the bottle landed on him.

Top considered for a second before his eyes lit up. “I dare you to put on Save's brightest article of clothing and wear it for the rest of the night.”

Save snorted with laughter as Hope looked down at his all black outfit and then over at Save’s pink t-shirt. Without a word, he got up and stalked down the hall. They heard rummaging before Hope appeared again, wearing a striped, fuzzy, orange and yellow sweater. He looked murderous.

“You look adorable,” Save promised, pinching Hope's cheek.

“If I see any pictures of this later, you're dead.”

Tattoo casually lowered his phone and put it back in his pocket.

“My turn,” Hope muttered.

The dares got sillier and the truths a little deeper as the game continued. Tattoo had to run down to the street and yell his feelings for Aran back up at them (he like liked him). Hoy was challenged to see how many spring rolls he could fit in his mouth at once (six). Save was asked how many people he had been with before Hope (zero).

Due in part to the alcohol and part to the company, Joke's chest felt warm and his head felt fuzzy in a pleasant way. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed until his stomach hurt and tears streamed down his face.

It was Aran’s turn to spin again, and they all pretended not to notice when he stopped the bottle early so it landed on Joke.

“Joke,” Aran said, tone and face serious. “What was the first thing you noticed about Jack?”

He had to sit and think about it for a second. The first physical thing he noticed back when Jack was just a bartender to him were his eyes, followed closely by his smile. Joke remembered thinking how young they made Jack look, like he hadn’t yet been touched by the world. But the first thing Jack made him feel was…

“The way he made me feel like I was the only person in the room with him. He listened when no one else had ever bothered, even though I was just a stranger in a bar. I could have spent all night talking to him—I almost did, actually.” Joke blushed. He’d never gotten to tell Jack how he felt about him when they first met. A side-effect of Jack not remembering they’d met before and all the awkwardness that had come after. He really shouldn’t have said anything about it all and come up with a different answer, but the beers had loosened his tongue and fogged his mind.

It was fine—Jack didn’t remember, and that was okay. Joke had gotten over it, and they’d moved past it now, anyway. If Jack questioned Joke on his first impression later, Joke would come clean. He’d tell Jack they had met before and they’d laugh about it. It wasn’t like it would affect their current relationship, because they’d built it on trust and friendship that had been cultivated in the months since Joke returned.

“That's so sweet,” Aran cooed, oblivious to the weird energy beginning to permeate the space. “Jack, when did you know you liked Joke?”

Joke shifted in his seat, waiting to hear what Jack had to say. What moment defined Jack’s feelings for him? He couldn’t wait to hear it.

When Jack hesitated, Joke saw Save and Tattoo's eyes cut to Jack, while Hope stared at the carpet with an unreadable expression on his face. A weird feeling started to rise in him. There was a quiet voice in the back of his mind starting to pipe up, telling him to pay attention.

“It's not my turn to answer,” Jack choked out, attempting to dodge the question.

Joke was starting to get nervous. It wasn’t like it was a difficult question to answer, right? The voice in his head was growing more insistent.

“Oh come on, Joke just said such sweet things about you! Return the favour!”

“I…” Jack’s eyes darted to him and away again. He wiped his hands on his pants, and Joke’s heart sank just a little. He knew Jack’s nervous tics by now. What wasn't Jack telling him? For the first time that night, Joke cursed the number of beers he'd had. There was something there, something he couldn't quite grasp. A tiny red flag waving on the edge of his vision.

“Aran, you cheated, you can't just skip ahead,” Tattoo chastised, laughing awkwardly. “Joke, you can spin and choose the next person—”

“He's kind in a quiet way,” Jack said, voice soft. “Like he wants people to think he isn't. He wears a mask a lot of the time, but when it slips, he's… something else. Someone else. The person he wants to be, not the person he thinks he needs to be. Seeing that quiet kindness extended to others, being on the receiving end myself… that's when I knew. It wasn't one moment, it was all the small ones that grew into something huge over time.”

No one said anything. Even the warning voice in Joke's head fell silent.

“Oh.” Aran's whisper almost echoed in the quiet. “That's…”

“Beautiful,” Save finished, a small smile on his face.

Joke couldn't find any words. He wanted to cry, but he’d save that for later; he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his friends and brother.

The game ended there, everyone falling into loud conversations. Jack got up, muttering something about getting a refill, and Joke followed him to the kitchen. Jack stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed, gripping his empty beer bottle until his knuckles went white. Wordlessly, Joke took the bottle from him. There was a flash of deja vu as he remembered doing the same thing in the alley the night they first met. Setting the bottle on the table, Joke stepped into Jack’s space and let him wrap his arms around him. They were silent for a moment, the air heavy with something Joke couldn’t name.

“I meant it,” Jack whispered into Joke’s hair, holding him tighter. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Joke whispered, his heart soaring. He banished the voice in his head—why listen to it when he could listen to Jack's sweet words instead?

Morning came even quicker than normal.

Joke groaned as his phone alarm blared underneath his pillow, jolting him awake.

He groped around to turn the awful noise off, memories of the night before playing in his mind while he worked his way to full consciousness.

He had made good on his promise to put his mouth to good work, much to Jack’s delight. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing the sounds Jack made while Joke took him apart. Just replaying them in his mind was riling him up—he wondered if Jack would be down for some soft morning sex. Frankly, Joke couldn’t think of a better way to start the day.

He stretched his arm out, relishing in the way his sore muscles protested as he reached over to Jack’s side of the bed. After using his mouth, Jack had used him, and it had been… enlightening, to say the least.

Joke cracked an eye open when his hand landed on empty sheets instead of Jack’s sleep-warm skin. The bright sun streaming past the curtains they had forgotten to close the night before sent a lance of pain through his head, but that was the least of his concerns. The more pressing matter at hand was the fact that Jack wasn’t next to him, and judging by how cold the sheets were, hadn’t been in some time.

"Jack?” Joke's voice was uncomfortably loud in the quiet room. He flung the comforter off and padded out into the hallway.

Jack usually woke up before Joke and would often start breakfast, but the hotplate was off and there was no scent of cooking in the air. There was also no sign of him in the living room, where he sometimes spent the morning reading the news. Confused, Joke ran through their schedule.

He had a meeting with his father later that day, but there was no reason for Jack to be up and about this early. Jack had been grocery shopping just a few days before, so he had no reason to be at the store. Sometimes he went for a run before Joke woke up, but his running shoes were lined up neatly by the door. So where was he? Joke's eyes fell on the closed door of Jack 's bedroom. The same one Jack hadn't slept in a single time since they became official.

The door opened with a soft creak, the light from the hall illuminating the room just enough for Joke to make out the shape of Jack sleeping beneath the blankets.

The little voice was back again. Was he sick? Had Joke done something? Jack had cleaned Joke up, kissed him goodnight, and then, what? Just left to sleep by himself? Joke distinctly remembered curling up into Jack’s side and the feeling of Jack’s fingers in his hair as he fell asleep. So, he had waited until Joke was asleep to leave. Somehow, that felt worse.

Tiptoeing into the room, Joke watched Jack sleep for a second. A warm wave of fondness warred with the niggling feeling of wrong.

“Jack.” He gently shook Jack’s shoulder, trying not to scare him awake.

Jack frowned and grumbled, trying to move away from Joke’s hand.

“You gotta wake up, come on. Time to face the day.”

Jack blinked and his eyes widened when they focused on Joke. “Joke. I—” He looked guilty.

“Why are you in here by yourself?” Joke hated how insecure he sounded, but it couldn’t be helped.

Jack’s eyes slid away from Joke’s before he answered. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so I came in here to see if it would help.”

That sounded reasonable, but Joke couldn’t quite shake his suspicion. “If you can’t sleep, you can always wake me up. I wouldn’t mind.”

“That doesn’t sound fair,” Jack protested.

“Well, I can think of a couple techniques to tire yourself out that are much more enjoyable with a partner.” Joke tried for levity. He didn’t want to start the day on a negative note, even if it was just in his own head.

Jack laughed. “Noted. Next time, I’ll wake you up and let you tire me out.”

“Good,” Joke said, smug. “Now, I think you better make me breakfast as payment for your transgressions.”

“Yes, Khun.” The juxtaposition of Jack saluting while snuggled under a mound of blankets was too much for Joke to handle.

He got up, needing to clear the image from his mind. “I’m gonna shower. You better be up and at ‘em by the time I’m finished.”

“I’ll have breakfast waiting for you when you’re done,” Jack promised, voice fond.

Half an hour later, they were sat at the table, the earlier events of the morning forgotten.

“I was thinking,” Joke started, speaking through a mouthful of congee.

“Never a good sign.”

“Rude.”

Jack laughed and leaned over to wipe a piece of rice from the corner of Joke's mouth. “I'm sorry, what were you thinking?”

“We should go somewhere. Get away from the city for a bit, just the two of us.” Joke didn’t know why he was nervous. He had done harder, more nerve-racking things than asking his boyfriend to take a trip with him. And yet.

“Like... a vacation?”

Joke nodded vigorously. “Exactly! A much-needed vacation.”

“I mean, that sounds nice, but do you think your father would allow it?” Jack had a point, but Joke disliked the reminder of his father and his potential disapproval all the same.

He had been working his ass off with the school, surely that had to count for something. Maybe he could even spin it as a work trip, something about scouting future locations for development. And of course, Jack would need to accompany Joke on said work trip—he was Joke’s bodyguard, after all.

“Let me talk to him. I’m sure I can convince him.”

A small smile played on Jack's lips. It was almost shy, making him look younger. “Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” Joke said, laughing as Jack leaned over the table and kissed him.

The plan went into action the next morning. After foisting Jack onto Hope at the security office, Joke cornered Save at his desk and got him to check his father’s schedule for the next month.

“Next week is pretty clear, actually. Not much going on meeting wise, and nothing that would involve you from what I can see,” Save confirmed, scrolling through Joke’s father’s calendar.

Perfect. Joke could practically taste his plan coming to fruition—it tasted like fruity alcohol and Jack’s skin.

“What’s this for? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I’m taking Jack on a vacation.” Joke couldn’t help the way his chest puffed up proudly at the declaration.

Save's eyes went wide. “That's sweet of you.”

Joke could hear what Save wasn’t saying; Joke’s father’s tempermant and disapproval hung over them.

“You’ve worked really hard the past few weeks. I’m sure your request will be approved,” Save said, smiling kindly.

“I just want to do something nice for him. For both of us.” Joke blushed, still not used to being able to talk about his relationship in the relative open. “I want him to relax, do something he enjoys. He works so hard, he deserves to be pampered.”

“Well, I think no matter what you do or where you take him, he’ll enjoy himself. I've never seen him this happy in all the time I’ve known him. You could plan to spend a week in a box on the side of the road, and he'd be thrilled because it meant being with you.”

“That's... I mean...” When Save put it like that, it sounded fake. Too good to be true.

“Don't overthink it,” Save said, voice gentle. “Trust me, he'll love and appreciate anything.”

The implications of that made Joke's heart race. The idea that someone could want to just spend time with him, no catches or expectations attached... he wasn't used to it. Decades of past experiences had blinded him to the possibility of Jack simply wanting to spend time with him, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary where Jack was concerned.

“Joke!”

The sound of Joke’s father’s voice echoing in the otherwise empty hallway made Joke and Save jump. Save scrambled in his seat, spinning the chair forcefully to face the computer again.

Joke brushed the invisible wrinkles on his suit jacket before turning to face his father. “Good morning, Por.”

“I asked you to be at my office at 9:00.”

Joke resisted the urge to look at the clock hanging above Save’s desk. He knew it wasn’t yet 9:00, but he also knew it was useless to point that out to his father.

“I was just going over the schedule for the next few weeks with Save,” Joke said, gesturing vaguely to where Save was typing away furiously behind him. “I’ll be right there.”

“See that you are,” his father said. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Joke sighed as he watched his father head back down the hall to his office. They always had a lot of work to do—it was getting exhausting. But that’s exactly why a vacation was just what he and Jack needed.

Joke waited until a couple hours had passed before even attempting to broach the subject of vacation. He didn’t want to spring the request on his father right away, especially when he hadn’t had his third cup of coffee yet. Joke wanted him to see that he was grateful for the work being assigned to him, and that he was more than capable of handling it—but he’d be even more capable of it after some much-needed rest and relaxation.

There was a moment of silence in the endless typing and shuffling of papers, and Joke seized it.

“Por,” he started, cautiously. He needed to watch his tone. He didn’t want to come across as pushy or ungrateful.

“What is it?” His father didn’t even bother looking up from one of the various spreadsheets spread across his desk.

“I was wondering—or, rather, I know that your schedule clears up a bit over the next few weeks.” It was always better to be direct when speaking to his father. He didn’t like waffling or uncertainness.

“Mmm.”

“So, I figured my schedule would also clear up a bit.” He was so close.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”

“Well, I was wondering if I could use that downtime to take some time away.” Almost there.

His father finally looked up. “Time away?”

Joke nodded, gathering steam. “Yeah, like a vacation. Not a long one, or anything, just a few days. A weekend, even, would be great. I just think that I could be more productive after clearing my head for a bit, you know? I was thinking maybe next week? I’ll make sure to have my work completed before I go, so no one will have to pick up any of my slack. I’d leave the Thursday after work, and be back the Monday evening.” He had it all mapped out, leaving no room for holes to be picked in his plans.

His father leaned forward in his chair, studying him. He wasn’t saying yes, but he also hadn’t said no yet. Joke still had a chance at making this happen.

“Jack would come with me, obviously,” Joke continued, careful of how he worded the next part. “I don’t want to open up opportunities for anyone to get to the company through me while I’m away. I’ve been taking self-defence classes, as per your instruction, but I know having a bodyguard present is safer.”

His father nodded, expression unreadable as ever. “You’re right, having a bodyguard tag along would be much safer. I’ll see if Tattoo can join you.”

Joke blinked in confusion. He must have misheard. “Sorry—Tattoo?”

“Jack is accompanying me on a work trip that weekend. Didn’t I tell you?”

“N-no, you didn’t—”

A knock on the door interrupted anything further Joke might have said. He didn’t turn around as the door opened, too lost in his own head. Did Jack just not want to tell him about his leaving town? When he knew Joke was hoping to treat them to a weekend getaway? No, no… there was no way Jack would have done that.

That voice whispering sabotage was back.

“Ah, Jack! Just the person I wanted to see.”

It took everything in Joke’s power to not whip his head around. Instead, he kept his gaze firmly ahead, acutely aware of Jack coming to stand right behind him.

“I’ll be taking a business trip next weekend. I’d like you to accompany me.”

Joke’s suspicions were confirmed; Jack had no idea this was happening. He felt a wave of anger rise in him at the blatant lack of respect being afforded to Jack.

“Me, Khun?” Anyone else would have heard a clarifying question, but Joke could hear the confusion and disappointment colouring Jack’s voice.

Joke’s father nodded.

There was a pause before Jack spoke again. “What about Hope?”

“He’ll be present as well. I think this will be a good opportunity for you.”

“Of course, Khun.”

Joke hated how dead Jack’s voice sounded. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and pull Jack into his arms—or better yet, take his hand and drag him from the office altogether.

“How long will you be away?” Joke asked, directing the question at his father while really asking Jack.

“Does it matter?”

“It’s just, Jack is my bodyguard and Tattoo is Top’s. I don’t want to disrupt Top’s routine by taking his bodyguard away, and Jack and I have our own routines as well—”

“I will use Jack for as long as I need to,” his father snapped. “Last I checked, he was my employee, not yours. Do you have a problem with that?”

Joke swallowed the anger rising like bile in his throat. Yes, he did have a problem with that. “No, Por.”

“It’s fine, Khun,” Jack piped up from behind him. “I look forward to helping out wherever I can and learning from you.”

And Joke hated that more. The idea of Jack submitting to his father’s wishes like he had no say in the matter.

Which, of course, he didn’t.

Joke was rebelling against Jack leaving in the only ways he knew how—hiding his luggage and trying to seduce him into staying in bed and ditching his father.

Neither was working very well, to Joke’s eternal annoyance.

“It’s just a few days, it won’t be that bad,” Jack reassured him, stuffing the t-shirt in his hands back into his bag for the fourth time that morning. Joke’s fingers itched with the want to remove it—again.

Logically, Joke knew Jack was right. But they hadn’t spent a day apart since Joke’s return, and he’d be lying if he said he was ready for that. What if Jack forgot about him while he was away? What if Jack got away from him and realized he was too much? What if someone took one look at Jack, noticed how unreasonably attractive he was, and tried to steal him away forever?

Okay, Joke knew those scenarios were all a bit unreasonable. In the shower that morning, Joke had made sure Jack would want to come back to him. And the bruises hiding just under the collar of Jack’s shirt would ensure no one doubted he was taken.

Still, Joke couldn’t help but pout. “But I had plans for us,” he whined, fully aware of how childish he sounded.

“I know, baby,” Jack said, sticking his lower lip out to match Joke’s. “We can go on vacation when I get back, okay? That way, I’ll have really earned it.”

And maybe my father won’t find a way to fuck us over next time, Joke thought bitterly.

“Okay,” Joke mumbled, letting Jack wrap him in a hug. “But I’m not happy about this.”

“I know,” Jack said, kissing the top of Joke’s head.

“And when you get back, I’m going to take you on the best vacation you’ve ever had,” Joke declared proudly. He’d use the time Jack was away to plan something spectacular.

“Seeing as how I’ve never been on a vacation before, I’m sure you will.”

Joke pulled back to look at Jack with sad eyes. “You’ve never taken a vacation?”

Jack shook his head. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “My parents couldn’t afford it, and Ama definitely couldn’t afford it. Besides, I like working and keeping busy. Why would I want a vacation?”

Joke hummed, considering the lore Jack just dropped. “What if I told you I’d put you to work during your vacation?”

“And how would you do that?” Jack raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on his face.

“I can think of a few ways,” Joke whispered, pressing his lips to Jack’s neck. Maybe he could add another bruise to Jack’s growing collection. And if he managed to persuade him to stay just a bit longer, well, that would just be a bonus.

“Joke,” Jack admonished, letting his head fall back. “Don’t start something we won’t have time to finish.”

“If you ghost my father, we’ll have all weekend to finish.” The words were mumbled against the soft skin of Jack’s collarbone as Joke tugged his shirt down.

“I can’t do that, you know I can’t—”

The jarring ring of the lobby buzzer cut Jack off and made them both jump. Joke’s head collided with Jack’s chin with a sharp crack.

“Ow, fuck,” he swore, glaring in the direction of the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Jack muttered, rolling his eyes. “Your father truly has impeccable timing.”

Joke grumbled He had impeccable something alright.

Jack hoisted his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Okay, now I really have to go.”

“Fine,” Joke said, following Jack to the front door. “I’ll be waiting for you to get back.”

“You won’t have to wait too long. I’ll be back before you know it.” Jack sealed his promise with a kiss.

Joke melted into it, holding tightly onto Jack’s waist. “You better be,” he said as he broke the kiss and relinquished his hold.

Jack waved as he closed the door behind him, the sound of it louder and more final than it had any right to be.

And just like that, Joke was alone in the apartment for the first time in months. Obviously, there were times when Jack left to run errands or go for a run, but that was different. He was never gone for longer than an hour, and if something came up, he always texted to let Joke know when he’d be back.

He was being silly. It was one weekend, and besides, Top and Tattoo would be arriving soon. They had decided the best way for Tattoo to perform his duties fully was for him and Top to stay at Joke’s for the weekend. The two of them keeping Joke distracted from Jack’s absence was a happy coincidence. They’d already made plans to invite Aran over as well—why not go all out on the pity party?

When the doorbell rang, Joke straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. He was a grown man. He could survive a weekend without his boyfriend.

Probably. Hopefully.