Chapter Text
“So they were fake dating to make me jealous,” Juyeon says, at the end of a meandering story about the girl from sales she’s taking out Friday night.
She, Dawon, and Luda are eating lunch in the office cafeteria, squeezing the most they can out of the meager meal break their corporate overlords allow. Dawon is all attentive eyes and curious noises, but Luda is only half listening.
Maybe a third.
If you round up.
Conversations about romance are boring by default and this one isn’t proving to be an exception. So Luda focuses on her own problems, staring over at the intern table and trying to guess which of the boys building a tower from fries keeps fucking up the formatting on budget reports.
Stupid interns. Stupid management for making her supervise them. She’s not even allowed to hit them with anything, and what's the use of authority if you can’t abuse it?
“And you’re happy about that,” Dawon says, with the air of dubiousness that means she’s judging you. At this point Luda starts paying more attention – she likes when Dawon gets judgey. Dawon should do more of it, less of the disconcertingly sincere kindness she spreads around the rest of the time.
“Absolutely!” Juyeon is saying. “Someone going to that much trouble to get your attention is flattering.”
“You wouldn’t rather she, I don’t know. Say she likes you out loud, with words instead of elaborate schemes.”
“That’s great too! All forms of confession are wonderful and hard and I respect them. But you have to admit, making up a whole relationship to get someone’s attention has a little extra flair.”
Dawon smiles the smile of you’re wrong but this isn’t a battle worth fighting, bending back over her spicy chicken wrap.
Luda frowns thoughtfully.
“Would it work on anyone? The fake dating thing.”
“Luda, no.” Dawon shoots her a reproachful look. Since this is opposite Luda’s desired outcome, she pretends it isn’t happening.
Juyeon taps contemplative fingers against her chin.
“It could. You’d need to tailor it to your target, though. Like for me, this girl -”
“I could not care less about someone you’ll be bored of in three dates. What would work on Jiyeon?”
Juyeon acts wounded for half a second, then warms to this new route of scheming. It’s why Luda bothers to engage with her: she’s easily divertable, which is an important quality in a minion.
“Our intrepid team leader, hmm. She likes competition, so I think you’d need someone you could seem serious about. A rival for her to get heated over and snatch your heart from at the last second.”
“Why are you both like this,” Dawon says, frowning from one to the other of them. “Luda, Jiyeon calls you cute at least once a week. Ask her out. She’ll say yes. She’s already interested enough to be on the wrong side of the workplace harassment policy.”
“She thinks I’m cute like a puppy. You don’t date a puppy.”
“Some people do,” Juyeon chips in. “She looks like the type to put a collar on you. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you.”
Juyeon reaches over to wrap her fingers around Luda’s neck, squeezing with light pressure. Luda swats her away, whining about invasion of space, but she can’t deny the flush in her cheeks.
She likes the idea of Jiyeon doing that.
She likes the idea of Jiyeon doing a lot of things.
While feelings are an indignity Luda avoids whenever possible, she’s had them for Jiyeon since the day she started this job. Jiyeon was in charge of onboarding, and meeting her Luda was immediately held captive by a hopeless crush. Who wouldn’t be, faced with an executive rising star who was both effortlessly put together and unusually kind, finished off with enough mischief to keep it from cloying.
Jiyeon spent hours walking Luda through the byzantine software systems the company uses, and though Luda usually has a knack for that kind of thing she couldn't manage the simplest of tasks in Jiyeon's presence: she kept getting lost in the way Jiyeon hovered at her shoulder, all attention focused on her. Afterward, she sent Jiyeon a long, embarrassed apology on the company’s internal messaging system, full of I’m so sorry’s and I’ll learn quickly’s. It’s been years now but Jiyeon still likes to tease her for it, eyes twinkling and smirk annoyingly kissable.
“I think we’ve lost her,” Juyeon says, with a poke at Luda’s forehead.
Luda comes back to reality in time to bite at her hand, though unfortunately Juyeon’s reflexes save her.
“Try that again and you’ll lose a finger.”
“Eat food, not friends,” Dawon says, holding a bun to Luda’s mouth. Luda takes a bite poutily. Then another, less begrudging, because it’s kind of fun being fed.
;;
Throughout the next week, the idea of fake dating percolates. Luda watches Jiyeon, keeping tabs, trying to calculate the odds for success.
The first question is whether a tactic that worked on giant child Juyeon would have any efficacy applied to Jiyeon. They’re very different targets, and while Luda has spent a lot of time daydreaming about Jiyeon she hasn’t paid much attention to how Jiyeon interfaces with the rest of the world. So now Luda catalogues her social interactions, discovering that though Jiyeon is committed to work she’s also easily drawn into games and schemes.
In supporting evidence: the day the department heads have a “friendly” competition, Jiyeon discards her usual tough-but-fair management style to become the boss from hell, popping up the second anyone takes a break to scold them back into productivity. The prize at stake is barely worth mentioning - a cafeteria-catered pizza party, aka all-you-can-eat sad, soggy crust. Jiyeon hasn't set foot in the cafeteria since she earned a corner office, so this suggests Juyeon was on the right track in analyzing her character: Jiyeon is the kind of person who craves victory for its own sake, who likes to claim greatness by grinding rivals down to dust.
Which brings Luda to question 2: who would be a fitting romantic rival?
Logistically speaking, it has to be someone from work. All the executives are too close to Jiyeon, which leaves people on Luda’s level and below. Her first thought is Yeoreum – the one intern who isn’t insane, and who gives nicely warm hugs. But she doubts Jiyeon would see someone that young as a rival and there’s also the pesky question of ethics, since she does technically control Yeoreum’s future at the company.
She considers Juyeon next. Juyeon already brings out Jiyeon’s competitive streak: at the summer retreat, they spent hours battling each other at an elaborate coin flip game, both refusing to admit defeat for so long that Sojung had to take a break from doing CEO things to forcibly separate them. Juyeon is known as the office flirt, though, and it’d take a lot of time and effort to convince anyone she's a serious prospect.
Worse still, Juyeon would enjoy the role too much. Luda shudders imagining how many neck kisses she’d be subjected to.
She’s still in search of the perfect fake girlfriend when she wanders into the Thursday all-hands meeting, taking a seat in the front row like usual. Anywhere else there would be a line of heads blocking her view, a disgrace Luda refuses to suffer through.
Dawon is giving the first presentation today, and as Sojung hands her the mic sympathetic nerves twinge in Luda. Dawon is good at many things but she can struggle with this part of the job – standing in front of a room and making herself heard.
There was a rough period, six or so months back, when she stopped being able to do it at all. Having to try made her shake and sweat and lose her words, and Jiyeon quietly approved her for modified duties until she found a way past whatever demons she was facing. (That was when Luda realized her crush might never go away – seeing Jiyeon care for one of her favorite people.)
Dawon seems better now, but Luda still feels protective at the way her smile turns stiff with so many eyes on her.
She does well today, though. Her voice is clear and strong, and she summarizes the ongoing finance projects in a way that only downplays her own contributions a little.
Then something weird happens.
A few minutes into Dawon’s speech, Luda starts losing track of meaning. She’s hearing the words, but somehow her brain can’t fit them together. It doesn’t seem to be about what Dawon is saying: everyone else is still smiling and nodding along, laughing at a joke Dawon is making, and why couldn’t Luda tell that that was a joke?
Her head feels fuzzy and her body distant, and oh, she realizes. She’s about to pass out.
Maybe she shouldn’t have stayed up all night three nights in a row plotting about fake relationships.
;;
When Luda regains consciousness, the first thing she sees is Dawon.
Her face is close and worried, hovering over Luda as soft fingers brush along her hairline.
“I’m ok,” Luda mumbles. “Only sleep deprived. And I maybe forgot to eat dinner last night.”
“Drink this,” Dawon says, holding a thermos up to her mouth. Luda takes a sip and splutters at the taste.
“I hate your gross protein powder thing.”
“You wouldn’t have to drink it if you’d taken care of yourself.”
There’s rebuke in Dawon’s voice and with anyone else Luda would bristle, despite being obviously in the wrong. With Dawon that’s impossible, so Luda takes the thermos and swallows down gulps until Dawon’s eyes warm. Cooperating doesn't mean she can't complain, though.
“What even is that flavor. Terrible with a side of more terrible?”
“You scared me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Luda reaches out to hold Dawon’s forearm, squeezing to show that she really is ok. Dawon exhales like she’s been holding her breath for hours, offering Luda a tiny smile.
“You scared us all for a minute there,” comes a voice from behind Dawon.
Luda had forgotten about the world beyond Dawon’s shoulders, and it’s jarring to be reminded. She takes stock of her surroundings, recognizing the couch she's propped up on and realizing that they’re in Jiyeon’s office. With Jiyeon, the source of that voice, who’s watching them with a look Luda’s never seen on her before – surprised but not in a pleasant way, like someone stole her dessert from the communal fridge.
This gives Luda a flash of inspiration. She skipped over Dawon in her musings on potential fake girlfriends, but Dawon is in many ways the ideal candidate: respected but a little remote, chatty in a way that somehow never means volunteering extra details about her personal life. She’s one of those people who could reveal a whole secret family and you’d just blink and accept it, so the idea of romance blossoming unnoticed between her and Luda is absolutely believable.
And she’s already playing the role of worried paramour to perfection.
All Luda needs to do is add some flourish.
She brings Dawon’s hand to her lips, kissing Dawon's knuckles and watching out of the corner of her eye as Jiyeon’s expression turns incredulous.
Good. Maybe this really will work.
The only wrinkle: Dawon isn’t so much on board. She figures out Luda’s intention a second later, at which point she frowns and tries to take her hand back. Thankfully, Jiyeon can’t see her glare.
“Oh, unnie,” Luda says, letting Dawon go and fixing eyes on Jiyeon. “I didn’t realize you were there.”
She tries to sound apprehensive instead of gleeful, worried about being caught in an intimate moment. Jiyeon seems to buy it, offering a reassuring pat on Dawon’s shoulder. Dawon’s face goes even more sour, and ah, right. That is why Luda didn't consider her. A strong sense of morality is inconvenient when planning an entire relationship based on deception.
But it’s too late to change course now; this is too good of an opportunity.
Luda will just have to find the right incentive to win Dawon over.
“It’s no trouble,” Jiyeon says, and though the words are right she sounds like an actress reciting unpalatable lines. “I’m pleased you two have…found each other. It can be difficult to maintain work-life balance here. Which reminds me, Luda, you should take the afternoon off. Get some rest.”
“Dawonie, can you take me home?”
The request is part strategy: it’s useful to be seen leaving together and to remove Dawon from situations where she could tell Jiyeon they’re not actually dating. But Luda also feels unsteady enough to want company. She might not have been so bold in asking without the fake girlfriend plot, though - vulnerability is easier when it serves ulterior motives.
Dawon’s expression softens.
“Of course. Do you think you can stand?”
“Help me up?”
Dawon does, and though Luda wobbles on the way to upright she doesn’t worry. Dawon will catch her if she falls, with the same gentle strength she brings to everything.
“Dawon, you should take a half day, too,” Jiyeon says, still watching them intently.
“Are you sure? I can take Luda home and then come back for the rest of the meeting.”
“We’ll reschedule. Go, both of you. Make sure she’s ok.”
;;
At home, Luda gets a blissful hour of pampering before Dawon starts asking questions.
In that interim, Dawon tucks her into bed, orders food and runs to the convenience store five blocks away because it’s the only one that carries Luda’s favorite brand of drink. Having Dawon cater to her every need is fantastic, and while she wouldn’t normally take this much advantage she excuses it under the guise of practice.
She’s taking their fake relationship for a test drive. Getting used to what it would feel like to have Dawon as her person, mentally and physically, because to pull a scheme on someone as sharp as Jiyeon you have to find the fragments of truth in your lies.
Which is oddly easy to do with Dawon. Especially when Dawon is sprawled out next to her in bed, sharing the delivery meal that could be a late lunch or an early dinner. Dawon has changed out of work clothes and into Luda’s most oversized sweatpants, which still manage to hit her above the ankle, and though Luda never considered inviting her over before having her here now doesn’t feel at all strange. She fits the role of girlfriend, but maybe that’s just Dawon’s power: the ability to fit seamlessly wherever she happens to be.
Then Dawon brings up the inevitable:
“Hey, Luda. What were you doing kissing my hand in Jiyeon’s office?”
“Remember Juyeon’s fake dating story?”
Dawon groans.
“I was hoping you’d forgotten that.”
“It’s not a bad idea-”
“It’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s not a bad idea, which you’d know if you’d seen Jiyeon’s face today. She was jealous of you before I even started acting.”
Dawon looks surprised, like she’s taken aback at Jiyeon having the capacity to be jealous of her.
“Even if that’s true, all it means is that you should ask her out and be done with it. There’s no need for” – Dawon gestures vaguely between them – “whatever this is.”
Luda opens her mouth to argue but a yawn comes out instead. Then another one, and by the time Luda regains control of her jaw all her lines of reason have splintered.
Dawon squeezes her knee.
“We can talk more tomorrow. Tonight, you should sleep.”
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone at the office anything before we talk.”
“Luda…”
“Promise me!”
Luda sticks out her pinky insistently. There's laughter in Dawon's eyes but she obeys, wrapping her finger around Luda’s with great solemnity.
“I promise. Nothing before we talk.”
;;
After twelve hours of sleep, Luda wakes up with a mission.
It’s so obvious now, the way forward. What she has to do to make her play for Jiyeon.
To be clear, she’s not sure a fake relationship is the way to win the girl of your dreams.
All the same, it's an intriguing hypothesis. Why not conduct a little research? There’s more than enough data to justify the time spent: Jiyeon has already proved susceptible to this form of persuasion, establishing in the process that Dawon would be the perfect co-conspirator.
Luda just needs to convince Dawon of that.
“No way,” Dawon says when Luda brings it up over lunch, at a fancy restaurant Luda takes her to as thanks. And to get them both away from nosy coworkers, since this is a conversation that shouldn't be overheard.
“Why not?”
“I don’t like lies. Especially when emotions are involved.”
“Is this really a lie, in the grand scheme of things?”
“I’d be pretending something is true when it isn’t. That’s the definition of a lie.”
While Luda had hoped Dawon might warm to the idea, if anything her opposition is stronger today. Her jaw is set and her mouth is stubborn, like she’s letting out the full force of her feelings now that she’s sure Luda is well enough to withstand them.
Luda takes a few bites, plotting alternate tactics.
“What’s the part of this job you like the least?”
“I like my job. This is a good place to work.”
“Ok, recruitment brochure – I like mine too. There’s always a thing with jobs, though. That thing you have to do but you hate. Mine’s the interns.” Luda grimaces in mentioning them, and Dawon laughs into her water glass. “What’s yours?”
Dawon takes the time to think about it, which feels promising. It’s already better than an immediate no and Luda knows that, if she can work her way into a real conversation, she can find a method to win Dawon over. That is simultaneously the best and worst thing about Dawon: she cares about how other people see the world, which makes her susceptible to manipulation.
“Spreadsheets,” Dawon finally says with her own grimace. “Especially around the holidays. I’m slow at them, and there will be someone who sends documentation right at a deadline and I have to stay late or miss seeing my family just to make sure everything gets done. I hate that.”
“I’ll do the spreadsheets for you. The week before every major holiday, for a year.”
This offer lands like Luda hopes: Dawon leans forward, intrigued.
“A whole year?”
“A whole year in exchange for one small favor.”
“I can’t believe I’m considering this.”
“Why are you so against it? Sure, lies are bad but Jiyeon has pulled worse things than this for April Fool’s. You can’t be worried about her, so what’s the danger? Do you have some secret crush I should know about?”
“No, I’m not really into anyone right now.”
“Then what is it?”
Dawon chews on her lip, hesitating. Then comes to a decision and lets the words spill out.
“I’m worried I might get feelings for you. I don’t have them right now, but I know myself and even if it’s supposed to be fake doing romantic things with someone will still feel romantic to me.”
This is a fascinating new data point.
“Huh. I wonder if that could happen to me, too.” Luda contemplates the possibility - Dawon is less annoying than almost anyone else she knows. Prolonged exposure could cause affection.
Dawon’s face scrunches with confusion.
“If you think it’s possible, doesn’t that mean we shouldn’t do this?”
“Why? You’re a good person. It wouldn’t be bad, falling for you.”
Luda means this as a simple statement of fact: there are many worse people one could become entangled with. But Dawon stares like the words contain a revelation. One side of her mouth slowly, gently crooks up in an expression too delicate to count as a smile.
Luda can’t tear her eyes away. Time stretches until Dawon coughs, shy at being subject to so blatant a gaze.
“I mean,” Luda says, stumbling over the words. “It wouldn’t be ideal, given my goal, but it’s within acceptable parameters of risk. Maybe we could…have ongoing discussions? Report it to each other, if either of us start feeling things.”
“So you want me to tell you if I start liking you too much.”
“Yeah! Then we can decide whether we need to take a step back, or even call the whole thing off. A good experiment ends if the risk to participants outweighs the potential benefits. It’s basic research ethics.”
“And our unacceptable risk is…liking each other?”
“Maybe liking each other and feeling emotional distress because of it? I don’t know that feelings in themselves would be a problem. Or would they be? Hm. We should figure that out together so that there’s a clear experimental design.”
“You sound like such a scientist.”
“I trained to be one. Thought patterns stick.”
“It’s cute that you try to rationalize feelings like this.”
Luda frowns.
“What else would I do with them?”
Dawon laughs, throwing her head back like this is the funniest joke anyone has ever told.
“Ok, I’ve decided. I’ll be your fake girlfriend and help you win Jiyeon over. But I’m holding you to the spreadsheets, and if either one of us gets uncomfortable we bail.”
“It was my irrefutable logic that won you over, wasn’t it.”
“Absolutely not. I still think it’s ridiculous that you won’t just ask her out.”
“Then the bribe?”
Dawon shakes her head. Luda stares at her, pleased to have gotten her way but still befuddled at how it happened.
“Come on,” Dawon says, flagging down their waiter. “Time for us to go perform.”