[ the fact is this: thomas murphy is in love with his personal chef.
like. really in love with his personal chef. it's bad. he hired minho park because he was charging a reasonable amount and because thomas loved korean food--plus, he and his sister both were kind of useless in the kitchen. so it seemed like a win win situation, because he could hire a guy who really needed a job and thomas wouldn't starve anymore. he had plenty of money but no food; minho had plenty of food but no money.
of course, then minho had to be gorgeous. he had to have a smile that lit up an entire room. he had to have massive, extremely attractive arms. he had to be sarcastic and funny and smart. yeah, his food was amazing, but minho was even more than that, and thomas was absolutely, irrevocably in love with him. minho could call him a shucky shuckface until the day he died and thomas would be happy with it. this relationship was based out of some kind of business, though, and thomas had to lament that minho didn't have to like him, that maybe it was out of some--obligation or something, he tried not to dwell on it too much.
he just did things like remodel the kitchen, based on little things minho had suggested.
it's been three weeks since he's seen minho, having kept him on paid leave while thomas claimed he had a "business trip". it didn't stop him from texting him all the time, but this would be the first time he's actually seen minho in weeks, so thomas waits outside of the front entrance for minho's car to pull up, leaning on one of the columns outside of the house with his arms folded across his chest and fingers fidgeting at the sleeve of his sweater. ]
[ The unfortunate thing of being a culinary school graduate is that the culinary world? Is actually ridiculously cutthroat. Hell, it's a recession; everywhere is cutthroat right now, even the fast food places. Sure, they have a greater turnover than an actual restaurant does, but at the same time there are people clamoring for jobs where they can. Which means that Minho and his roommate - who was his roommate in school, and his roommate in the last leg of high school - were both kind of shit out of luck in a lot of fields.
So, Minho did both of them a favor. He put up individual ads for both of them, hashing out all of their experience and negotiating rates and their areas of expertise. (Korean and British, but both of them branched out pretty far from there.) And then he waited.
It didn't take long, actually. He's not sure if he should be surprised or not.
What he should really be surprised by is the helpless sad sack that interviewed him, because Thomas Murphy is a lost cause when it comes to the kitchen. He'd done a little interview of his own when Thomas decided to hire him on, because he had to gauge just how bad it was. And oh, was it bad. It was so bad. But god was Thomas attractive, and smart, even if he was a little lost when it came to social interactions on top of the kitchen.
But he was gorgeous and bright and Minho wanted to kiss his boss. It was a problem. He just pretended that it wasn't a thing for as much as he could, otherwise he was going to be screwed. He would be fired for sexual harassment, and he'd never get to see Thomas again, and the rotten cherry on top would be that he no longer had a job. Which would make him go stir crazy, because he's been on a forced vacation where he's only gotten to talk to his boss via text for most of it. Sure, he's getting paid, but he's been whining about it the entire time.
He looks forward to coming and seeing and cooking for Thomas (and his sister, he guesses, but she and Minho got off on the wrong foot and continue to be on the wrong foot). So he books it when Thomas' enforced leave ends, practically clambering out of his shitty car before he even has his keys out of the ignition because Thomas is waiting for him. ]
Helloooo Mister Murphy! [ His eyes sickle with the force of his grin, as he goes to trot up the steps. ]
[ thomas's heart skips a beat, and he thinks he's never been so glad to see that dumb grin; three weeks was way too long when you get used to seeing someone every single day, having their presence light up your life in the best ways possible. he's never been much of a smiler himself, sort of reserved, maybe even a little shy, but when thomas ducks his head for a second, it's clear that he's doing it to try and hide his grin. eventually, he lifts his head, shaking it. ] I told you forever ago you don't have to call me that, Min.
[ because it's just weird. thomas has a crush on minho, he cannot call him mister murphy.
either way, he pushes off of the column he's leaning on and greets minho easily, ready for the back-breaking hug that will surely (hopefully) come. ] Did you have a good vacation?
[ technically neither of them went on vacation but you know. ]
Well considering you kicked me out for three weeks, I must've forgotten. Ought to remind me some more. [ Minho saunters up the front steps easily, grin still intact as he takes Thomas in. He catches that attempt to hide his own grin, and it causes something in his chest to tighten in fierce affection and wonder. Thomas is so reserved by comparison, so much quieter and his expressions more muted, but here he is - he's grinning and it's because of him.
Ducking forward, he wraps his arms around his employer slash friend slash crush, hefting him up easily off his feet. The other young man isn't much of a hugger, either, but he's not someone that's resistant to physical affection and contact, especially when he can use it as an excuse to touch Tommy. ]
Good enough. Was kinda weird, though. [ He doesn't want to put him down. But he does, slowly. Reluctantly. ]
I sent you on a vacation! [ thomas doesn't really sound mad or anything--he pretends to be mockingly offended, in the only way that thomas is any good at humor. but, he likes to banter with minho, because it's really, really easy. spending time with minho is easy, like the best friend he's always sort of needed. thomas has been really close to teresa, his sister, but he's never really had a best friend before.
of course, they're, you know. boss and employee. but thomas tries not to think of it too much.
luckily, he's distracted because minho literally picks him up off the ground. letting out an-- ] Oof--Min! [ thomas chokes, but returns the favor with a couple of pats to his back, the best he can.
when he gets free, he brushes himself off and tries to will the warmth off of his face. ] C'mon, I have something to show you.
[ and with that said, thomas heads inside. the change is noticeable almost immediately--an entire wall has been removed from the front hall of the massive house, showing the kitchen in all of its new, remodeled glory. thomas stands back for a minute, sticks his hands in the pocket of his slacks, and tries not to grin too hard. ]
Remember how I was protesting that happening? [ Thomas had to strongarm him into it by saying that it would be paid vacation, and even then Minho had dragged his heels. Because he's way too attracted to and way too attached to him. But even if they never get together, even if they stay friends, he'll be more than happy. (Sort of, anyways.)
This is a different friendship from the one he has with Newt, but it's still just as powerful, still just as important. Because where Newt is his brother, essentially, Thomas is basically his best friend.
He squeezes him in response to the choking and the patting, and beams at him when he's on his feet again. Minho loves it when he can manage to fluster Tommy, to be honest. ]
What'd you do? [ Even though he questions him, he still follows. And then he stops. And he stares, eyebrows raising. His eyes track everywhere, mouth opening, and then closing. ] What the shit, Tommy.
[ thomas has to press his lips together to keep from smiling, a sort of rare event for the often stoic murphy twin; he walks forward casually and leans against the doorframe, trying to fight down the excitement and warmth that comes from the best gift he could possibly offer minho.
the kitchen's been remodeled almost to his exact standards. every time he pined about wanting an appliance, every time he talked about how nice it would be to have more space here, and bigger windows there, thomas took note. the kitchen is beautiful, with an island in the middle and skylights over head to give the place warmth and light it never had before. minho brought these things to thomas's kitchen, so if thomas can give them back somehow? he's going to.
eventually, he smiles, for real, breaking out across his face as he folds his hands across his chest. ] I had to send you on vacation because I kind of didn't have anywhere for you to cook for the past two weeks. It's not a lot of changes, but they put in skylights and updated all of our appliances, and there's...a lot of other stuff I mostly just signed the papers for.
[ reaching over, he pats minho's shoulder, giving him a nudge forward. go on, boo. ]
[ Minho moves into the kitchen proper, lifting his hands up to run them across everything. His fingers dust over the new counters, the island that's lit up bright as anything in the natural light. He makes his way across it to the new sink, the new oven and stove and taking in every single little thing that's been set up just for him.
It's all on Thomas' dime, and in the long run it's for him since it's his kitchen, but Minho is the one that works in it. Teresa and Thomas both have no damn idea how to operate a kitchen, Tommy's burnt water before and Teresa only knows how to heat up leftovers.
Slowly, he turns in a circle, before his eyes land on Thomas and he just kind of... stares at him a moment. Coming over towards him again, Minho doesn't hesitate to draw him into another hug, arms around his middle and hefting him in against his chest. ]
[ this hug is less rib cracking than the other one, but it's probably twice as sincere, and it makes something in thomas's chest sing; he smiles, gently at first, and then big enough that he has to drop his head to minho's shoulder to hide the giddy joy of it. was he doing this for minho's approval? probably. maybe a little bit. thomas isn't the one who's cooking, after all. he just wants minho to be happy, and will be ready to shower him in just about anything he wants if that's how he can do it.
his arms come up and wrap around minho's shoulders, and thomas squeezes, hesitant to let go--they probably stand there for thirty seconds before he pulls away, and only because he feels like he has to. he could stay there in minho's (ridiculously amazing) arms for the rest of his life. ]
So...do you like it? It's not too much, is it?
[ which is a dumb question. but he has to ask, turning those big dumb doe eyes on him. ]
[ It isn't very often that Minho gets a hug out of Thomas - he can count on one hand, probably, how many times they've done this - but he kind of wants to make up for that all in one moment. He sets one hand between his shoulder blades, his other arm hooked around his waist as he just... hugs and holds him. Some days, he's just so thankful that Thomas found the ad he posted, actually hired him on. Today is one of those days where it's almost overwhelming, and he grins stupidly where it can't be seen for a second.
God, he's stupid over this guy.
When he pulls back, he draws his hands up so that he can set them on his shoulders, eying him where they stand together. The question is so dumb that he just raises his eyebrows at him a little, humming low in his throat.
And then he reaches a hand up to bat him in the head, gently. ]
It is so much. Tommy, man, it's your kitchen and all... but if you did this just for me, you're crazy. [ But he's smiling, so. Yeah, he likes it. ]
[ thomas tilts his head with the pop to the head, even though it doesn't hurt--it's just a reactionary thing, and he can't stop the grin on his face from softening into something warm. for half a second he thought minho was going to kiss him, the way he was holding onto his shoulders like that, and thomas has to calm his stupid heart before he can properly respond to him. the affection is nearly overwhelming, and thomas blushes, maybe a little overwhelmed. ]
I mean, it's not like I cook in it. I could try. [ he says so with a faint joke to his tone. ] But...it was due for an update, anyway. Right? [ it really, really wasn't. thomas's excuses are as flimsy as anything, because in the end minho's exactly right; he did it all for him.
i want you to be happy here dies on his tongue, and he just nods his head, awkward as always. ]
And set off the fire alarm again? [ His eyebrows raise again, amusement evident in every line of his face as his eyes sickle slightly. At least they can joke about Thomas' inability to cook without Thomas getting all affronted - he and Newt have tried to teach people to cook who were also hopeless, but a lot less humbled by it.
Eyes tracking the flush of his cheeks, Minho sucks on his teeth as he tries to focus on the question and not the fact that he absolutely wants to kiss his employer right now. ]
I mean, it wasn't like it was out of date. You didn't have to do it, but - wow, I sound like I'm trying to complain about it. [ The hand still lingering at his shoulder slips up, slotting against his neck gently. ] You're crazy, but thank you.
That was one time. [ thomas rolls his eyes, but it's not meanly at all--just a little huffy. okay, he only set the fire alarm off once. the smoke alarm, a lot more times than that, but thomas isn't about to bring that up and ruin his dignity even more. he's not the best cook, but he's thankful for it, now. it brought minho--and newt, too--into his life, and he can't complain, wouldn't trade it for all the cooking skills in the world.
the atmosphere shifts, for a second, back into that almost romantic place it was before; thomas'd be lying if he didn't say his heart skipped a beat, though minho could probably feel it where his hand was resting against his neck. he's close enough to kiss.
but would he ruin things, if he did? cross a line he shouldn't cross?
thomas bites his lip. ] I'd do it again. [ and again, and again. ]
[ newt has a key to alby's place, but it's strictly for work reasons. after all, the man who employed him is busy--that's the entire reason newt was hired in the first place. running a company didn't come to a man who lazed, after all, and newt admired that in alby, that he had such a strong work ethic.
(he admired a lot in alby, but that wasn't the point.)
this job had been the difference between him and ramen noodles for the rest of his life, so it became an intrinsic part of his day to day routine. newt used to only come over once a week, to make alby enough leftovers to survive him until the next sunday, often when alby was out of the house. they didn't even really meet after the interview until three weeks into his job.
but that hadn't really stopped them from sort of hitting it off. alby's easy company, the kind of person newt could spend hours with without saying anything. he now makes his way over three or four times a week, cooking dinner fresh and often enjoying it with him, and it's nice. they're friends, newt thinks, he can at least say that much.
and it's because of that that he worries. alby hasn't been sleeping, let alone eating--whatever big project he's been working on has taken up all of his time, so much so that newt's gone back to only cooking for him on sundays, simply because he doesn't have time to sit down and enjoy, and sure, it stings, but that's the job.
however. he worries. he really does. and when he knows that it's near its completion, that it's going to be the simultaneous least and most stressful time of the project--when he knows alby will finally have to crash from exhaustion--newt uses that key he was given and slips into the front door, rolling up the sleeves to his button up as he quietly makes his way through the kitchen.
the smell of cooking bacon starts to drift through the house, and newt continues to cook, quiet as a mouse. a french vanilla parfait with peaches and apples, homemade cinnamon granola, french toast with caramelized bananas, bacon on the side--it's a veritable feast, but also an encouragement in the form of food. at school they taught him that cooking was a form of love, that every little detail you put into something showed how much you cared, and if that was the case? well.
maybe he was a little obvious.
either way, he sets the table carefully, focusing on presentation, making sure everything's sparkling clean. newt's intention was to leave it with a note and sneak out, but the bananas are taking just a little too long to caramelize, and he huffs a quiet sigh as he watches the pan, running a hand through his golden curls and wrinkling his nose up in derision at the idea of his plan being ruined. ]
[ It had been sheer luck that Alby had managed to come across the ads that Minho Park had posted for he and his friend. His listing had been updated, stating that his services were no longer available, but his friend's were and he was an excellent chef. Their resume was impressive, limited as it had been, and it had almost bee a relief that he'd found them. Because he can cook - he's not bad at it by any means - but he just... he doesn't have the time for it.
He has a maid to clean his place, he has an assistant that will take care of his personal belongings should he ask them to, and he has a secretary that takes his calls and sets up his appointments. If he didn't have them, he'd literally have fallen apart ages ago.
So to say that Newt is a godsend would be an understatement.
When they get closer, he's not sure what he did to deserve his personal cook. He could kiss him, some days. At the start, it was just good to have food to eat throughout the week that he didn't have to try and squeeze into his schedule for preparation. Newt was an amazing cook, and he's highly tempted to just keep him for the rest of his life. But then there's more variety throughout the week, and Newt actually sits down to eat with him when he works from home, and it's good to have someone outside of work to actually talk to.
If he falls a little in love with him because of his food, and then because of his company, well. He shouldn't be blamed.
It's that same food that has him coming down from the second story of his apartment, wearing sleep pants and a tank and rubbing at his eyes. He needs to shave, needs to get dressed for work. There's a whole slew of things he has to do, involving reading the paper and his e-mails and texts and seeing what's scheduled for the day. Because this project is going to kill him, but it's coming to a close. And he's never been more relieved in his life, honestly. It means he'll see Newt again, and be able to sleep properly, and to enjoy actual meals again.
So of course Newt is there this morning, and he can't help but smile a little. Rather than say anything, though, he just waits. ]
[ seriously, could this take any longer? newt's starting to get concerned that his secret is not about to be secret, and he would be right, considering when he turns around to check on his setting, he spots alby. newt jumps-- ] Bloody hell-- [ and then settles again, his heart skipping a beat, though whether it's out of surprise or out of the sight of alby in his pajamas, newt really couldn't tell you.
it's a little disgusting how cute he finds that.
swallowing the butterflies that seem to rise up in his stomach, newt offers him kind of a crooked, half squinty grin. ] Surprise. Didn't mean for you to see me--you weren't supposed to wake up for another ten minutes, you know. I must be losing my touch.
[ cooking wise, anyway. using his spatula, newt gestures at the table. the parfait and the granola are at least set out, and the bacon's sizzling in the pan next to him; it'll be ready in minutes, if the damned bananas will cooperate. ] Go on, sit down.
[ Huffing out a throaty laugh at startling Newt - he does feel a little guilty, but not enough to be sheepish about it - Alby sways away from where he stands in the doorway, heading into the kitchen proper. He's not really too concerned about being seen in his pajamas, to be honest, and instead just pads right over to where his chef is standing at the stove. ]
Barely seen you since this damn project started. Be pretty disappointed if you skipped out on me when this is the first breakfast I get to wake up to you in the kitchen.
[ With a gentle prod to his side, he gets his mail off the counter with some amount of reluctance and obeys the shooing from the spatula to go sit down.
But instead of reading like the responsible adult he is, he pushes everything to the side of the table and looks down at the parfait and granola, smile on his face as he ducks his head a little. ] How long you been at this?
[ newt's chest twists up warm and his heart does a backflip when he says that; he has to turn down towards the stove to keep the grin on his face muffled down to something reasonable for an employee and his boss. his crush on alby is getting to honestly gargantuan levels, and for as much as he tries to smother it and push it all away, it's really, really hard to do so when alby's looking at him with his eyes still sleepy and in his bloody pajamas. he pushes at the bananas with his spatula to give him something to do with his hands; he's probably got another minute or so before everything's ready.
it doesn't have to be the last, he'd say, if he was braver. or even if this was just a different situation.
(he's not good enough for alby and he knows it; at least if he pretends it's a boss/employee thing, he's a little less likely to be disheartened when alby swoops through the door with a beautiful woman on his arm.)
glancing back over his shoulder, newt wrinkles his nose, thinking. ] Mm...bout an hour or so? Maybe an hour and a half. [ with a faint tease, he adds: ] Woke up early for you and everything.
Jesus, you did. [ Because Alby has learned ever since hiring Newt that he is not an early riser. It's ridiculously endearing, especially on the literal handful of occasions that he's managed to coerce Newt into staying the night instead of driving home - due to bad weather or a late night or whatever excuse he could grasp - and seen the bedhead he's come out with.
Settling in his seat to watch Newt cook, because he has food there but he also has Newt there, he folds his arms on the table and leans his weight on them casually. It's so easy to just get lost in watching him work around the kitchen, effortless and relaxed as anything. It's like he belongs there.
Like he belongs in Alby's kitchen.
He nudges at his spoon absently with a finger, almost moving it back and forth like a pendulum. Eventually he's going to think of a way to keep him here, although he's not certain how that will go. ] I appreciate it, though. A lot.
It is my job, y'know. [ his tone's warm, though, giving newt away pretty much instantly. technically, this isn't part of his job. he could have brought him premade meals like he did at the beginning, once a week for three weeks before he started to get to know alby, started to talk to him a little, get words out of the ever stoic businessman. but since their first conversation, newt's always tried to find ways to slip into the cracks of alby's life, trying to make things a little warmer, a little brighter. he cooks for him, yes, but he also puts flowers in vases for the tables and brings everything from midnight snacks when he knows alby's busy--and on those rare occasions, he'll crash here, sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms and desperately wishing he was two doors down--to a breakfast, like this.
he's probably sickeningly obvious, but newt tries to keep it to himself. at least he's not thomas, for christ's sake.
so he does have to battle down the warmth in his chest, a little, try to keep himself from reading too much into it. newt does turn over his shoulder for a second to look at him, and when he does, the smile on his face is impossibly warm, too soft for an employee, too soft even for a friend. ] It's nothing, don't mind a bit.
[ luckily, the bananas more or less finish before newt can embarrass himself, and he hums an "ah ha" before carefully going to plate the rest of it. french toast, bacon, the lot of it. he brings it over to alby and sets it down in front of him, still smiling kind of crookedly at him. yeah, he's got it bad. ] Want something to drink?
Wasn't in the job description to go above and beyond, which, y'know. You've done. [ And he could compile a gigantic list for this, because it's true. Newt's done so much for him ever since he hired him, from cooking to livening the place up to being his friend, someone that he could talk to and rely on when he was stressed from work or tired of interacting with people that grated on his nerves. Newt is his even keel, and Alby could never be more thankful to have him in his life.
But he could sure try.
He finally picks up his spoon to start in on the parfait and granola, corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. Though he's always been fairly stoic, even as a child, it takes the smallest thing done by this beautiful blond to get a smile out of him, to get him to even grin and laugh.
Something warm settles in his chest as he looks back at him, gives him that smile over his shoulder, and he has to duck his head so that he can take a spoonful of parfait that hides the obvious emotion on his face. He's in so deep and he's not sure when it happened.
Not sure if he minds, though.
When Newt brings the plate to the table, Alby does look up at him then, expression softening even as he tries to hold it at bay. ] Surprise me.
[ he waves that off with his hand, because that's not true. newt's doing everything he wants to do; he'd do it for free, to be perfectly honest. the fact that he works this as a job is like some kind of blessing. alby had been a blessing, at a time when newt was so down on himself that he'd taken to withdrawing into his room, never going out, barely eating--a right, proper mess. imagining that your future is empty no matter how much money you've sunk into student loans is a miserable, miserable thing.
and then alby came along, and the future got a little brighter. it's better to think "i made it" when you have someone to live for, something to do. keeps the sadness out.
he shouldn't act on it and he knows he shouldn't. they're so close, though, alby's right there; when he turned towards him to say that, it left them maybe a couple of inches apart. but newt can't resist, can't anymore. in that scant space it's easy to think about his employer and his friend, a person who has seen him at his worst and his best, brought him out of bed when he was miserable and showed him some kind of light, a little bit of happiness in this cruel, fucked up world. he says "surprise me" and newt does.
[ Newt is a reminder that there's more to life than his work. Unfortunately for Alby, as someone so young that climbed the ranks so quickly, it's pretty easy for him to forget about the fact that he can exist as a human being. His responsibilities come first, before even his own care, and having someone around that actually cares about him and not numbers and sales and information is something that's... freeing, almost. Gives him something to live for, himself.
So he doesn't react with shock, when Newt kisses him. Because Newt became his thing to live for, beyond his company.
Instead, he reaches his hand up, spoon clattering down to the table, so that he can hook it behind his neck and keep him from going anywhere. Knowing his cook like he does, the one that gets down on himself sometimes and has the biggest heart he's ever seen, he figures that if he doesn't pull him in he's going to try and pull back.
He doesn't want that. At least, not before he can kiss him back. ]
[ when the spoon drops, newt honestly reaches to try and do that--he flinches, although more from the sound than anything else, but before he can jerk back (you've shucked it up for sure, now, haven't you?) alby's big hand curls around the back of his neck and newt pauses. this all occurs in the span of a couple of seconds, and its almost too much to process, but alby is kissing him, and newt just.
he just melts into it, the hand on his shoulder curls into his tank, instead, fingers clutching in the fabric for a moment before he lets go, finds his cheek and cups his face, instead. if newt pulls away, it'll be too soon, and he sighs into his mouth, this tiny, relieved thing. more than anything else, he was scared. he's had a thing for alby almost since the day they met, and it only got worse over time, with newt dropping his head into his hands at a bar with a beer in hand and moaning about how attractive and perfect alby is, how completely out of his league he is, too. they balance each other, he thinks, with everything from looks to personality to finances.
although, right now, all he can really think about is the soft mouth pressed to his. he could clamber into alby's lap from this position but he doesn't, just. slowly pulls away, just a little, his cheeks flushing pink. what do you even say after that? i've loved you for months?
he settles on a soft-- ] Bloody hell. [ and breaks into a little bit of a smile. ]
[ If Alby could just kiss Newt for the rest of his life, he'd be more than happy. Screw the company, screw the finances, screw whatever responsibilities that he has. He just wants to spend all of his time with his personal chef, because there's nothing more perfect than this moment, here. Newt's small hand against his cheek, the softness of his mouth against his own, the little sigh that he practically breathes in. It causes a smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth, small and sweet without realizing it.
This was never meant to happen, he's sure. But it's natural as anything, so he has no complaints whatsoever. Not when he can finally give into the urge to kiss him, to touch in more than just a passing friendliness, something that's not even close to what he's been really wanting to do.
He fell in love with his food, then he fell in love with him just as easily.
Looking up at him as Newt pulls back, Alby has to resist following after him. Instead, his hand slips down, dropping to his hip as a small laugh leaves him. ] Yeah.
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like. really in love with his personal chef. it's bad. he hired minho park because he was charging a reasonable amount and because thomas loved korean food--plus, he and his sister both were kind of useless in the kitchen. so it seemed like a win win situation, because he could hire a guy who really needed a job and thomas wouldn't starve anymore. he had plenty of money but no food; minho had plenty of food but no money.
of course, then minho had to be gorgeous. he had to have a smile that lit up an entire room. he had to have massive, extremely attractive arms. he had to be sarcastic and funny and smart. yeah, his food was amazing, but minho was even more than that, and thomas was absolutely, irrevocably in love with him. minho could call him a shucky shuckface until the day he died and thomas would be happy with it. this relationship was based out of some kind of business, though, and thomas had to lament that minho didn't have to like him, that maybe it was out of some--obligation or something, he tried not to dwell on it too much.
he just did things like remodel the kitchen, based on little things minho had suggested.
it's been three weeks since he's seen minho, having kept him on paid leave while thomas claimed he had a "business trip". it didn't stop him from texting him all the time, but this would be the first time he's actually seen minho in weeks, so thomas waits outside of the front entrance for minho's car to pull up, leaning on one of the columns outside of the house with his arms folded across his chest and fingers fidgeting at the sleeve of his sweater. ]
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So, Minho did both of them a favor. He put up individual ads for both of them, hashing out all of their experience and negotiating rates and their areas of expertise. (Korean and British, but both of them branched out pretty far from there.) And then he waited.
It didn't take long, actually. He's not sure if he should be surprised or not.
What he should really be surprised by is the helpless sad sack that interviewed him, because Thomas Murphy is a lost cause when it comes to the kitchen. He'd done a little interview of his own when Thomas decided to hire him on, because he had to gauge just how bad it was. And oh, was it bad. It was so bad. But god was Thomas attractive, and smart, even if he was a little lost when it came to social interactions on top of the kitchen.
But he was gorgeous and bright and Minho wanted to kiss his boss. It was a problem. He just pretended that it wasn't a thing for as much as he could, otherwise he was going to be screwed. He would be fired for sexual harassment, and he'd never get to see Thomas again, and the rotten cherry on top would be that he no longer had a job. Which would make him go stir crazy, because he's been on a forced vacation where he's only gotten to talk to his boss via text for most of it. Sure, he's getting paid, but he's been whining about it the entire time.
He looks forward to coming and seeing and cooking for Thomas (and his sister, he guesses, but she and Minho got off on the wrong foot and continue to be on the wrong foot). So he books it when Thomas' enforced leave ends, practically clambering out of his shitty car before he even has his keys out of the ignition because Thomas is waiting for him. ]
Helloooo Mister Murphy! [ His eyes sickle with the force of his grin, as he goes to trot up the steps. ]
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[ because it's just weird. thomas has a crush on minho, he cannot call him mister murphy.
either way, he pushes off of the column he's leaning on and greets minho easily, ready for the back-breaking hug that will surely (hopefully) come. ] Did you have a good vacation?
[ technically neither of them went on vacation but you know. ]
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Ducking forward, he wraps his arms around his employer slash friend slash crush, hefting him up easily off his feet. The other young man isn't much of a hugger, either, but he's not someone that's resistant to physical affection and contact, especially when he can use it as an excuse to touch Tommy. ]
Good enough. Was kinda weird, though. [ He doesn't want to put him down. But he does, slowly. Reluctantly. ]
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of course, they're, you know. boss and employee. but thomas tries not to think of it too much.
luckily, he's distracted because minho literally picks him up off the ground. letting out an-- ] Oof--Min! [ thomas chokes, but returns the favor with a couple of pats to his back, the best he can.
when he gets free, he brushes himself off and tries to will the warmth off of his face. ] C'mon, I have something to show you.
[ and with that said, thomas heads inside. the change is noticeable almost immediately--an entire wall has been removed from the front hall of the massive house, showing the kitchen in all of its new, remodeled glory. thomas stands back for a minute, sticks his hands in the pocket of his slacks, and tries not to grin too hard. ]
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This is a different friendship from the one he has with Newt, but it's still just as powerful, still just as important. Because where Newt is his brother, essentially, Thomas is basically his best friend.
He squeezes him in response to the choking and the patting, and beams at him when he's on his feet again. Minho loves it when he can manage to fluster Tommy, to be honest. ]
What'd you do? [ Even though he questions him, he still follows. And then he stops. And he stares, eyebrows raising. His eyes track everywhere, mouth opening, and then closing. ] What the shit, Tommy.
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the kitchen's been remodeled almost to his exact standards. every time he pined about wanting an appliance, every time he talked about how nice it would be to have more space here, and bigger windows there, thomas took note. the kitchen is beautiful, with an island in the middle and skylights over head to give the place warmth and light it never had before. minho brought these things to thomas's kitchen, so if thomas can give them back somehow? he's going to.
eventually, he smiles, for real, breaking out across his face as he folds his hands across his chest. ] I had to send you on vacation because I kind of didn't have anywhere for you to cook for the past two weeks. It's not a lot of changes, but they put in skylights and updated all of our appliances, and there's...a lot of other stuff I mostly just signed the papers for.
[ reaching over, he pats minho's shoulder, giving him a nudge forward. go on, boo. ]
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[ Minho moves into the kitchen proper, lifting his hands up to run them across everything. His fingers dust over the new counters, the island that's lit up bright as anything in the natural light. He makes his way across it to the new sink, the new oven and stove and taking in every single little thing that's been set up just for him.
It's all on Thomas' dime, and in the long run it's for him since it's his kitchen, but Minho is the one that works in it. Teresa and Thomas both have no damn idea how to operate a kitchen, Tommy's burnt water before and Teresa only knows how to heat up leftovers.
Slowly, he turns in a circle, before his eyes land on Thomas and he just kind of... stares at him a moment. Coming over towards him again, Minho doesn't hesitate to draw him into another hug, arms around his middle and hefting him in against his chest. ]
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his arms come up and wrap around minho's shoulders, and thomas squeezes, hesitant to let go--they probably stand there for thirty seconds before he pulls away, and only because he feels like he has to. he could stay there in minho's (ridiculously amazing) arms for the rest of his life. ]
So...do you like it? It's not too much, is it?
[ which is a dumb question. but he has to ask, turning those big dumb doe eyes on him. ]
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God, he's stupid over this guy.
When he pulls back, he draws his hands up so that he can set them on his shoulders, eying him where they stand together. The question is so dumb that he just raises his eyebrows at him a little, humming low in his throat.
And then he reaches a hand up to bat him in the head, gently. ]
It is so much. Tommy, man, it's your kitchen and all... but if you did this just for me, you're crazy. [ But he's smiling, so. Yeah, he likes it. ]
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I mean, it's not like I cook in it. I could try. [ he says so with a faint joke to his tone. ] But...it was due for an update, anyway. Right? [ it really, really wasn't. thomas's excuses are as flimsy as anything, because in the end minho's exactly right; he did it all for him.
i want you to be happy here dies on his tongue, and he just nods his head, awkward as always. ]
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Eyes tracking the flush of his cheeks, Minho sucks on his teeth as he tries to focus on the question and not the fact that he absolutely wants to kiss his employer right now. ]
I mean, it wasn't like it was out of date. You didn't have to do it, but - wow, I sound like I'm trying to complain about it. [ The hand still lingering at his shoulder slips up, slotting against his neck gently. ] You're crazy, but thank you.
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the atmosphere shifts, for a second, back into that almost romantic place it was before; thomas'd be lying if he didn't say his heart skipped a beat, though minho could probably feel it where his hand was resting against his neck. he's close enough to kiss.
but would he ruin things, if he did? cross a line he shouldn't cross?
thomas bites his lip. ] I'd do it again. [ and again, and again. ]
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one for the thominhos and one for the nalbies
(he admired a lot in alby, but that wasn't the point.)
this job had been the difference between him and ramen noodles for the rest of his life, so it became an intrinsic part of his day to day routine. newt used to only come over once a week, to make alby enough leftovers to survive him until the next sunday, often when alby was out of the house. they didn't even really meet after the interview until three weeks into his job.
but that hadn't really stopped them from sort of hitting it off. alby's easy company, the kind of person newt could spend hours with without saying anything. he now makes his way over three or four times a week, cooking dinner fresh and often enjoying it with him, and it's nice. they're friends, newt thinks, he can at least say that much.
and it's because of that that he worries. alby hasn't been sleeping, let alone eating--whatever big project he's been working on has taken up all of his time, so much so that newt's gone back to only cooking for him on sundays, simply because he doesn't have time to sit down and enjoy, and sure, it stings, but that's the job.
however. he worries. he really does. and when he knows that it's near its completion, that it's going to be the simultaneous least and most stressful time of the project--when he knows alby will finally have to crash from exhaustion--newt uses that key he was given and slips into the front door, rolling up the sleeves to his button up as he quietly makes his way through the kitchen.
the smell of cooking bacon starts to drift through the house, and newt continues to cook, quiet as a mouse. a french vanilla parfait with peaches and apples, homemade cinnamon granola, french toast with caramelized bananas, bacon on the side--it's a veritable feast, but also an encouragement in the form of food. at school they taught him that cooking was a form of love, that every little detail you put into something showed how much you cared, and if that was the case? well.
maybe he was a little obvious.
either way, he sets the table carefully, focusing on presentation, making sure everything's sparkling clean. newt's intention was to leave it with a note and sneak out, but the bananas are taking just a little too long to caramelize, and he huffs a quiet sigh as he watches the pan, running a hand through his golden curls and wrinkling his nose up in derision at the idea of his plan being ruined. ]
finally hits the nalbies up
He has a maid to clean his place, he has an assistant that will take care of his personal belongings should he ask them to, and he has a secretary that takes his calls and sets up his appointments. If he didn't have them, he'd literally have fallen apart ages ago.
So to say that Newt is a godsend would be an understatement.
When they get closer, he's not sure what he did to deserve his personal cook. He could kiss him, some days. At the start, it was just good to have food to eat throughout the week that he didn't have to try and squeeze into his schedule for preparation. Newt was an amazing cook, and he's highly tempted to just keep him for the rest of his life. But then there's more variety throughout the week, and Newt actually sits down to eat with him when he works from home, and it's good to have someone outside of work to actually talk to.
If he falls a little in love with him because of his food, and then because of his company, well. He shouldn't be blamed.
It's that same food that has him coming down from the second story of his apartment, wearing sleep pants and a tank and rubbing at his eyes. He needs to shave, needs to get dressed for work. There's a whole slew of things he has to do, involving reading the paper and his e-mails and texts and seeing what's scheduled for the day. Because this project is going to kill him, but it's coming to a close. And he's never been more relieved in his life, honestly. It means he'll see Newt again, and be able to sleep properly, and to enjoy actual meals again.
So of course Newt is there this morning, and he can't help but smile a little. Rather than say anything, though, he just waits. ]
;w;
it's a little disgusting how cute he finds that.
swallowing the butterflies that seem to rise up in his stomach, newt offers him kind of a crooked, half squinty grin. ] Surprise. Didn't mean for you to see me--you weren't supposed to wake up for another ten minutes, you know. I must be losing my touch.
[ cooking wise, anyway. using his spatula, newt gestures at the table. the parfait and the granola are at least set out, and the bacon's sizzling in the pan next to him; it'll be ready in minutes, if the damned bananas will cooperate. ] Go on, sit down.
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Barely seen you since this damn project started. Be pretty disappointed if you skipped out on me when this is the first breakfast I get to wake up to you in the kitchen.
[ With a gentle prod to his side, he gets his mail off the counter with some amount of reluctance and obeys the shooing from the spatula to go sit down.
But instead of reading like the responsible adult he is, he pushes everything to the side of the table and looks down at the parfait and granola, smile on his face as he ducks his head a little. ] How long you been at this?
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it doesn't have to be the last, he'd say, if he was braver. or even if this was just a different situation.
(he's not good enough for alby and he knows it; at least if he pretends it's a boss/employee thing, he's a little less likely to be disheartened when alby swoops through the door with a beautiful woman on his arm.)
glancing back over his shoulder, newt wrinkles his nose, thinking. ] Mm...bout an hour or so? Maybe an hour and a half. [ with a faint tease, he adds: ] Woke up early for you and everything.
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Settling in his seat to watch Newt cook, because he has food there but he also has Newt there, he folds his arms on the table and leans his weight on them casually. It's so easy to just get lost in watching him work around the kitchen, effortless and relaxed as anything. It's like he belongs there.
Like he belongs in Alby's kitchen.
He nudges at his spoon absently with a finger, almost moving it back and forth like a pendulum. Eventually he's going to think of a way to keep him here, although he's not certain how that will go. ] I appreciate it, though. A lot.
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he's probably sickeningly obvious, but newt tries to keep it to himself. at least he's not thomas, for christ's sake.
so he does have to battle down the warmth in his chest, a little, try to keep himself from reading too much into it. newt does turn over his shoulder for a second to look at him, and when he does, the smile on his face is impossibly warm, too soft for an employee, too soft even for a friend. ] It's nothing, don't mind a bit.
[ luckily, the bananas more or less finish before newt can embarrass himself, and he hums an "ah ha" before carefully going to plate the rest of it. french toast, bacon, the lot of it. he brings it over to alby and sets it down in front of him, still smiling kind of crookedly at him. yeah, he's got it bad. ] Want something to drink?
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But he could sure try.
He finally picks up his spoon to start in on the parfait and granola, corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. Though he's always been fairly stoic, even as a child, it takes the smallest thing done by this beautiful blond to get a smile out of him, to get him to even grin and laugh.
Something warm settles in his chest as he looks back at him, gives him that smile over his shoulder, and he has to duck his head so that he can take a spoonful of parfait that hides the obvious emotion on his face. He's in so deep and he's not sure when it happened.
Not sure if he minds, though.
When Newt brings the plate to the table, Alby does look up at him then, expression softening even as he tries to hold it at bay. ] Surprise me.
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and then alby came along, and the future got a little brighter. it's better to think "i made it" when you have someone to live for, something to do. keeps the sadness out.
he shouldn't act on it and he knows he shouldn't. they're so close, though, alby's right there; when he turned towards him to say that, it left them maybe a couple of inches apart. but newt can't resist, can't anymore. in that scant space it's easy to think about his employer and his friend, a person who has seen him at his worst and his best, brought him out of bed when he was miserable and showed him some kind of light, a little bit of happiness in this cruel, fucked up world. he says "surprise me" and newt does.
he tips forward and kisses him. ]
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So he doesn't react with shock, when Newt kisses him. Because Newt became his thing to live for, beyond his company.
Instead, he reaches his hand up, spoon clattering down to the table, so that he can hook it behind his neck and keep him from going anywhere. Knowing his cook like he does, the one that gets down on himself sometimes and has the biggest heart he's ever seen, he figures that if he doesn't pull him in he's going to try and pull back.
He doesn't want that. At least, not before he can kiss him back. ]
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he just melts into it, the hand on his shoulder curls into his tank, instead, fingers clutching in the fabric for a moment before he lets go, finds his cheek and cups his face, instead. if newt pulls away, it'll be too soon, and he sighs into his mouth, this tiny, relieved thing. more than anything else, he was scared. he's had a thing for alby almost since the day they met, and it only got worse over time, with newt dropping his head into his hands at a bar with a beer in hand and moaning about how attractive and perfect alby is, how completely out of his league he is, too. they balance each other, he thinks, with everything from looks to personality to finances.
although, right now, all he can really think about is the soft mouth pressed to his. he could clamber into alby's lap from this position but he doesn't, just. slowly pulls away, just a little, his cheeks flushing pink. what do you even say after that? i've loved you for months?
he settles on a soft-- ] Bloody hell. [ and breaks into a little bit of a smile. ]
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This was never meant to happen, he's sure. But it's natural as anything, so he has no complaints whatsoever. Not when he can finally give into the urge to kiss him, to touch in more than just a passing friendliness, something that's not even close to what he's been really wanting to do.
He fell in love with his food, then he fell in love with him just as easily.
Looking up at him as Newt pulls back, Alby has to resist following after him. Instead, his hand slips down, dropping to his hip as a small laugh leaves him. ] Yeah.
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