Chapter Text
Bambam's office was the nicest one in all of headquarters. Which was to be expected, considering Double B, Inc., was named after him. But then again, everyone had gotten the same, very generous decorating budget soon after Jinyoung's ass in that one tentacle simulation had gone impressively viral.
Well, Junior's ass, actually. But that was beside the point. The point: Bambam's office, well-lit and spacious, would have been nice even with a life-size cutout of G-Dragon and a patchwork quilt of rejected Gucci patterns. What was unexpected was that he hadn't brought in either of those. Bambam had chosen to decorate his space with tasteful, muted colors and potted plants, and he'd even barred entry to his cats (with the occasional exception made for Pudding). The result was a (mostly) fur-free professional zone for investors and employees alike. Jinyoung hadn't been in here many times since the upgrade, and he stared at the pretty ivy outgrowing its pot as Bambam repeated the same spiel for the seventieth time.
"You understand this is a big step, right?"
"Mhm." Jinyoung is pretty sure it's a money plant, his mother used to grow the same kind.
"There are no takebacks from here. Once you rebrand, you can't go back without alienating your audience even further."
"Hmm." Bad time to be thinking of his mother. Then again, any time was a bad time, really.
"And you have to be prepared for the inevitable backlash. Your fanbase is very attached to Junior—once you ditch him for Jinyoung, you have to expect that you'll lose some fans."
"Mm." He focused on the mesmerizing swirls of the leaves, white on green, letting them replace all thoughts of his family.
"It's a big step for your self-image as well as your career, so don't hesitate to reach out to Fei if it becomes necessary. Do you have her number or do you want her card?"
"Mmmn."
"...Well. At least now you'll be the old fart onscreen that we already know you are in real life."
"Mhmm."
"We'll zoom in on your wrinkles to accentuate. And I mean the ones on your face, not your asshole."
"Yep."
There was no response for a beat too long, and Jinyoung peeled his eyes away from the greenery to see the scowl on Bambam's face.
"What, do you have hearing loss, too? Jinyoung-hyung! Pay attention to me!"
Ah. There it was, the "hyung." A good sign his patience was slipping. Jinyoung slid a hand into his pocket and surreptitiously fiddled until he could press the TALK button, blinking at Bambam all the while. Slowly, coyly, in the way he knew Bambam hated.
"I'm so sorry, Director Kunpimook. I was just...enthralled by your svelte voice." He paused delicately. "You must forgive me for rousing you, for your dulcet tones are loveliest in anger. I hear the choir boys from the 32nd floor recording studio envy your range. They would gladly sacrifice appendages to hit those high notes."
"What do you mean, I thought they didn't do that anym—wait, there are choir boys in this building? On the floor directly below us—wait. Wait. Shut up. Did you hear what I was saying about Fei?"
Damn. Bambam was getting too good.
"Fei?"
"Of course you didn't, what did I expect." Bambam sighed, settling back into his seat. "Wang Fei Fei used to work for miss A productions a while ago. You probably remember her signature pink wig."
"That Fei? The one who everyone in our department called FiFi for months? She was so quiet that she never corrected us! I think she knew that the pink pageboy made her look a little like a poodle." Jinyoung still felt guilty about it. She'd been awfully nice the handful of times she'd hung out with them, and for how killer her legs were, she really hadn't gotten very far in the industry. The question was, then—
"What is she doing back in porn?"
"Like I said, she isn't with us as an actor. Fei just finished up her clinical psych degree a month ago. In another month, you're going to ditch Junior forever and become Jinyoung on a permanent basis. It might not be a big deal. Or it might be, considering how you like to pick holes in your self-esteem."
In eight years of employment at Double B, Jinyoung had developed finely-tuned survival instincts. He carefully shifted onto his left buttcheek and hoped against all hope that it was enough to end the call.
"—If that happens, I'm asking you to talk to Fei, who we've hired part-time as our company psychologist. She's your shrink."
If that walkie-talkie wasn't off, and the other end of the line heard his name and the S word in the same sentence.
It was time for him to go.
"Bambam," Jinyoung interrupted. "I really appreciate your concern. Really, truly. I'll definitely pick up Fei's card. But any further discussion here about my emotional well-being is a tad too personal, I think. It's, well. Unprofessional."
At that, Bambam suddenly, magically wilted. His shoulders slumped and even the little plant next to him seemed to droop.
Jinyoung eyed him dispassionately. If it got him out of a conversation he hated, he wasn't above this. He wasn't above most things. And just as he'd expected, Bambam dropped it.
"You're right, hyung. I won't push. We'll have our individual strategy meeting two weeks after your rebranding goes into effect, and if the topic isn’t business, you don't have to mention it." He smiled. "Until we go out drinking, at least. Here, take Fei's info."
Count on Bambam to be a good sport. Jinyoung gave him a small smile back and took the card, satiny and sleek in his palm. "I'll be going then."
"Go. And tell the others I'm going to be busy over lunch break, something urgent came up. Tell them not to bother me until it's over!"
"Yes, boss," Jinyoung yelled back, and cut himself off by shutting the door behind him.
As soon as he was in the hallway he started walking as fast he could while fumbling for the walkie-talkie. It was still on, fuck him, and it emitted a burst of static just as Jinyoung whipped around the corner.
"I gave you enough warning, right? I distracted him as long as I could, but I don't think I needed to. He's busy with his own plans today, I think he's going to skip lunch and spend it schmoozing clients over the phone again. Let's do the thing and feed him some cake before he gets busy. We only have half an hour. Over."
"Yo," Mark replied, and Jinyoung was faintly, temporarily relieved that it was him responding. "We're good. Get over here and we'll call him in. Over and out."
* * *
Kim Yugyeom didn't hold anyone or anything sacred. Which was a problem if you were an enemy of his, and especially if you were a friend. Jinyoung was both, and therefore completely unsurprised by the unearthly loud cackle that greeted him when he opened the door to the wreck room. Today the place was living up to the pun.
"Ah, Jinyoung! We're not good enough for you anymore?" Yugyeom put a hand over his heart. He pouted up at Jinyoung, and it was not cute. "Ranting over tequila sunrises and bad karaoke really isn't cutting it? I'm shocked. I can't believe you're ditching us for a professional. And here I thought that singing girl group songs together would fix your trust issues for sure!"
"Hush, Gyeom," Jackson said, but his eyes were dancing. Jinyoung molded his face into the most deadpan expression he could hold and stared at them both as he unbuttoned his shirt. So what if he was a mopey drunk. So what if Genie was the greatest bop of all time to get shit-faced to. There were worse ways to deal with stress.
"Anyone can ask for professional help at any time, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Jackson continued sagely. "What is shameful is when someone offers it to you, and then you rudely turn on them and pick at their insecurities. That. Actually embarrassing."
" 'Unprofessional,' really, Jinyoungie, you know Bammie's touchy about being taken seriously. He even redid his office and left the kitties at home. You only get away with manipulating him because he respects you so much!"
Youngjae was one to talk about manipulation. His tone was maternal, both chiding and gentle, but when Jinyoung finished pulling his undershirt over his head, his smirk was just the same as Yugyeom's.
"First of all, seeing how we have only twenty-three minutes left, aren't you glad I ended the conversation when I did? I had to find some way to get Bambam in full Double B mode off my back, so stop judging me. Second of all, Bambam gave me the option to go to therapy if I need to. Which, I don't. Lastly, he hired Fei to help everyone in the company, not just me!"
It was the wrong thing to say. Jinyoung was now just in his tiny patterned briefs, with his hands on his hips, in a room full of men laughing at him.
"The most amazing, incredible part of all this," Jackson wheezed, "was realizing that the new employee you drunkenly met at the 2014 Solstice party...and then...and then....introduced to everyone as FiFi. Is now. Dr. Wang Fei Fei, your shrink. The one and the same."
"Oh my god, when you were talking I didn’t even realize who Fei was, but I knew FiFi sounded familiar! She did a bunch of collabs with Double B while she was with miss A, and we miscredited her name every time. She never corrected us," Mark said. Because his betrayal stung the most, Jinyoung glared at him hardest. Mark grinned and shrugged. "Sorry Nyoung, but Jackson's right."
"In any case, Bammie is actually too professional to come right out and tell you that he wants you to talk to someone, but he really wants you to talk to someone," Youngjae said, and Mark, a regular Brutus, added, "You don't like to talk about that kind of stuff with us until you're hammered."
"You're too wrapped up in your work, Jinyoungie. You're always so anxious and upset when a release doesn't do as well as the others, even though you've already built this amazing career. You beat yourself up over it so much."
"I've met so many weirdos at this company in the last year, but you still take the cake," Yugyeom concluded. His eyes were silk-soft, and his long lashes made him look like a cow, as usual. Jinyoung reached out, tugged his ear, pinched Youngjae's cheek, too, for good measure.
His own cheeks were warm, and it was probably showing. He sighed. No way forward but through.
"I know that I'm...obsessive over work. And I'm aware that there's so much crap wound up into that, you don't have to imply it, I know. But I'm making some changes, starting with my stage name. And you heard me. I took Fei's card."
"And for that, I'm proud," Jackson said, and he came over and kissed Jinyoung's cheek. He'd stripped down to his underwear as well, and it was hard to be upset when he could see Jackson rising up to his toes to wrap himself completely around him. Jinyoung squeezed his hand in response.
It was Mark who finally interrupted the moment. "Seventeen minutes left," he announced. He bent over to arrange the suction-on dildos.
Jealous bitch. If Mark wanted to be part of the love fest he could’ve just said so. Jinyoung took the opportunity to pat his butt as he surveyed the carnage of the wreck room.
Truly lurid. If they had been doing this to anyone else, Bambam would have loved it. As it was...it would be a perfectly traditional company birthday.
"Mark, you're taking the photos, right? Jackson, let's angle ourselves this way for maximum impact—yes, arch your back, that's good. Youngjae, where do you want to stand? Under the screen? For symmetry?"
"Sure! And I think if I pretend to kiss this life-size poster like this...it's a good visual. Are we prepared then? Should I call Bambam?"
"No," Jinyoung said. He cast his eyes meaningfully at Yugyeom, who was hooking up the HDMI cable.
"Oh! Yugyeomie, I need to, uh, blow up one more balloon. For balance. Feng shui. There has to be an even number of boobies. In nature they come in pairs. Can you call Bammie instead?"
"Hyung! Why! It's weird for an intern to call the boss!"
"That's funny, I thought Bambam had everyone in this room on speed dial," Jackson said cheerfully. He wasn't even straining. God, Jinyoung was jealous of his abs.
"You're the senior intern, Yugyeomie! It's not weird at all! And I'm your boss too! I'm ordering you to call the boss-boss!"
"I can't believe you're still afraid of him, Gyeom," Mark commented. "Just 'cause he pretended to be an intern that one time..."
Yugyeom always turned red so quickly, like a pressure cooker. He hurriedly hit mute on the video now playing loudly, emitting obscene noises, and picked up his phone to dial, huffing angrily all the while.
"Put it on speakerphone," Jinyoung said. He couldn't help preening a little when Yugyeom flipped him the bird. "What! It's easier than you telling us what he's saying."
For once, Yugyeom listened to him. Probably because they really didn't have much time left. Jinyoung swept a piece of confetti away with his bare foot and hoisted himself into position on the pole. Shit, how was Jackson doing this?
The ringing stopped. "Bambam?" Yugyeom said into the phone, as tentatively as he ever got.
"Hi, Yugyeom. What's up?"
"Hi," Yugyeom breathed. If his hair had been long enough he would’ve been twirling it around his finger. "I—I really need you to come. Here. To the wreck room. Just for a few minutes."
Unbelievable, this child. Jinyoung met Mark's eyes over his head. Mark nodded, sticking his tongue in his cheek and jacking his fist back and forth toward his mouth. Jinyoung had to bite his lip hard to squash the grin. Yugyeom had signed on as their web dev and IT intern, but with that come-hither voice, anything was possible.
Bambam's voice was still sounding tinnily through the speaker. "I'm really sorry Yugyeom, but today's just a bad day for me, I don't have time to chill at all, I'm backed up in meetings until six—"
"No, no, I swear! It's not—we don't need an extra player for a co-op or anything like that, it's important!"
"...How important? I've got a one-on-one soon, there's a guy coming at—"
"It's! Very! It's very important! It's basically...it's...it's..."
"Yugyeom, please be clear, I don't understand what's going on. I have to welcome someone at the front—"
Yugyeom frantically turned around and looked at them, making distressed little motions with his free hand. "Emergency," Jackson stage-whispered at him, and Jinyoung found himself agreeing. They were in too deep to back down, and it wasn't as though it would take long anyway.
"Emergency, sir! It's an emergency! Please come as soon as you can!" Yugyeom's voice kept climbing until it was positively shrill. He had apparently reached his Bambam interaction quota for the day, because he slammed his phone down and buried his face in his hands.
"He's going to hate me. I'm gonna get fired," he moaned.
"Not a chance. He'll have to rush to his meeting, but he'll know right away that it wasn't your idea. And besides, he likes you, even if you're scared of him," Jackson pointed out. Jinyoung watched with interest as Yugyeom's face burned an even brighter contrast against his pale fingers. Mark pried him out a few seconds later, but Yugyeom now seemed to be having a difficult time looking at the images wallpapered across the room. Youngjae took pity and let him retreat to the corner before resuming the video.
Now all that was left was to wait.
"Jackson," Jinyoung said. "I think we can get down from these poles for another five minutes. It's going to take Bambam at least that long to get here from the other side of the floor."
"Jinyoung," Jackson said. "I've already been holding this pose for like, ten minutes. I know you like to ogle my muscles, but I didn't realize it's because you have none of your own."
"Brains over brawn," Jinyoung sniffed.
"Not in our line of work," Jackson replied, and blew him a kiss.
"Junior is a twink, not a beefcake," Jinyoung shot back, but now he had to hold it, and Jackson knew it.
His triceps ached already. He tried to focus on Youngjae's mindless humming instead, and the soft snaps from Mark's camera as he took test shots.
"Hey, Jinyoung."
"What, Jackson."
"I think my pose is a lot harder to hold. Cheater."
"You picked which pose to hold all by yourse—"
"Shh! Shut up! I think I hear footsteps!" Mark hissed. They all fell silent, straining to hear over the quiet sucking sounds of the video.
"False alarm?"
"Maybe, Youngjae, but he should be arriving soon anyway. Gotta stay alert."
"Jinyoung, you're closest to the door. Keep your enormous Dumbo ears open."
"Keep mentioning my ears and I'll tell Bambam it was you who cracked the old database to find the video."
"You wouldn't!"
"Don't be so sure."
"Guys—" Mark started, and then three things happened in very quick succession.
One: Yugyeom threw a dildo at Jinyoung. With spectacular and alarming accuracy, it struck Jinyoung's forehead. It stuck there through the power of industrial-strength suction cups specifically designed to adhere to all types of surfaces: wood, tile, linoleum, carpet, even underwater, for bathtime fun, all for the low price of 29.99!
If Jinyoung was a little hysterical, he couldn't be blamed, because:
Two: He was so surprised that his grip loosened and he slid down the pole, falling to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
Three: The door to the wreck room loudly swung open and hit the wall, knocking confetti to the ground. The dazed-looking man who stood there was not Bambam. He was most likely dazed-looking because he was blinded by the flash of Mark's camera. But his expression didn't change as he peered around the room.
Jinyoung would later reflect that he couldn't be too mad at Yugyeom about the dildo. It was probably because he looked like a depraved unicorn that the man made eye contact with him first.
"I'm. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I was supposed to meet Mr....Bambam? At the reception desk? But no one was there yet and I just heard a loud noise..."
Hot, thought Jinyoung, involuntarily, unhelpfully. These thoughts were dangerous when he was only in tiny, tiny undies. The man had also apparently noticed his outfit, because suddenly he was looking at anywhere but Jinyoung. An unfortunate choice, really, since every other inch of the room was just as explicit.
There was a scuffling noise outside the door. They all looked up to see the man who was Bambam finally, blessedly arrive. They all watched as he caught his breath and then scanned the room, taking in the dick-shaped confetti, the tata balloons, the scrotum cake, the poles and the pornstars hanging off them. The looping video of a younger version of him seductively sucking the life out of a lollipop. The mosaic-censored collage of him in every position possible that covered the walls, the ceiling. His coworkers, all clothed to varying degrees. The stranger who was not one of his employees. Who was most likely his lunch appointment.
Bambam turned white.
"Bammie," Youngjae croaked out.
"Bambam," Jackson said, equally hoarse. "It's an emergency, see. A stranger's infiltrated our wreck room."
Poor Yugyeom. They were all going to be fired.
There was really only one thing left to do. Jinyoung took a deep breath, and sang.
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Bambam..."