#dzerobaseone

[jebewonmorelike]

Whatever You Say, President-nim

Part Two of "So You Can Do Yours"

⋆ ✮ ⋆

part one: "so you can do yours" wc: 2.6k pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: mentions of food-- specifically gunwook saying he skips lunch to get to work quicker (he's fine, he's just in love), lots of fluff, reader is a bit angsty bc they are missing out on being a kid/young adult/student summary: younganddumbCEO!reader offers to pick up assistant!gunwook at his university one afternoon to "help get him to work on time" ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ so after you read this... you will notice its still open-ended. i really liked this little story i'm crafting for wookie so i think i'll have one more part to it! i really wanted to write this; i definitely got a lot of intrinsic joy out of it and that is what i've been missing from my writing recently. it was super fun to write-- i hope the couple of friends who have asked about a part 2 enjoy this too!! thanks for supporting me on this quasi-break, it means a lot. please give me any feedback you have no matter how small; i just love hearing that you liked it. :)

“It’s almost there, but...” You whisper to yourself, carefully dotting your paint brush to the canvas to touch up the mossy bank in the bottom right corner. Creating a deeper shadow in the greenery, you smile as you imagine what your assistant will say when he sees your progress.

Gunwook typically requests that you save your painting for when he’s working so that he can adequately cover all your job-related duties for you. You know you should be responding to your emails or reviewing the paperwork he finished for you yesterday to better familiarize yourself with it, but you just couldn’t help yourself. The idea of adding deeper shadow to the green areas of the painting had come to you last night in a dream and you’d been bursting at the seams to follow through on it since you woke up this morning.

What time is it? You wonder, glancing up at the clock above your doorframe to find that it’s almost 1 P.M. On Thursdays, Gunwook clocked in at 1:30 P.M. after finishing his classes at his university for the day. Just a little bit longer...

“President-nim?” The voice of Secretary Lee over the intercom breaks your focus from your painting. The small brush you're holding tumbles from your hand, a dot of dark green landing onto the perfect pale blue sky. You close your eyes, inhaling for four seconds and exhaling for six-- the breathing exercise that your assistant had introduced to you last month to cope with your frustration and anxiety at work.

With the amount of times you’d had to use it to keep yourself from impulsively firing his own mother, you’re sure Gunwook was glad he’d found the right one for you.

You pick up your paintbrush calmly and place it into the mason jar of water on your desk before leaning over to the intercom and pressing the microphone button. “Yes?”

“Could I come have a word with you, President-nim?” She asks politely, but hurriedly. “It’s a bit urgent.”

“Come in, Secretary,” you agree, shutting the top of your desk quickly to conceal your artspace. You throw some papers that Gunwook had completed yesterday for you across your desk in an attempt to make yourself look busy. 

With a soft knock at the door, Secretary Lee enters as you pretend to study some of the papers-- tapping the base of a ballpoint pen to your chin in faux concentration.

“President-nim,” Secretary Lee greets with a bow as she makes her way up to your desk. She glances down at the papers you’re pretending to fill out, eyes lingering a bit too long. “Are you very busy with paperwork?”

“Oh, um,” you start, nodding a bit too hastily. “Yes, but please share with me what you need to.”

After a moment of continued suspicion, Secretary Lee finally moves on, responding, “I have to leave now to get the plans you approved from the Engineering Sector this morning to Board Executive Han in Incheon. He requested they be delivered immediately to his office.”

“That sounds great,” you reply with a nod. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get back to work now.”

“Well, there’s--,” Secretary Lee says quickly, bowing slightly in apology for the continued interruption. “There’s a slight problem that I have to make you aware of.”

You frown, an eyebrow raising expectantly. 

“The drive isn’t too long and I don’t mind making it,” she prefaces, clasping her hands together. “But it will interfere with my lunch break and... That's when I pick up my son from his university and bring him to work. He can take the bus, but there've been long delays recently so I’ve been driving him to and from school so he isn’t late.”

“Ah,” you reply, placing your pen down on the table. 

“So I wanted to apologize and warn you that Gunwook could be very late today,” Secretary Lee says, fidgeting with a button on her coat. “I’m sorry about this, President-nim.”

To your embarrassment, a flood of disappointment hits you. You’d been really looking forward to showing your assistant the new additions to your painting.

And drinking his expertly-made coffee. And being both offended and impressed by at least one unavoidable and perfectly crafted new insult. And seeing that genuine, absolutely magnetic smile...

“I can pick him up.”

The offer slips out impulsively. Looking up at Secretary Lee, you notice that she’s somehow much less surprised by it than you are.

“Are you sure, President-nim?” She asks with a small smile. “That’s a lot of trouble to ask of you. You’re so busy right now with all of this paperwork!”

“I am so busy with paperwork, yes," you nod, putting on your most convincing performance. "But I... I actually was going to run something over to my mother’s office, so...”

“Ah,” Secretary Lee affirms with a nod. “Then if it’s no trouble, I’m sure Gunwook would love that, President-nim.”

Your face flushes slightly at her words. You wish she hadn’t told you that her son had finally agreed to be your assistant after he’d seen a picture of you. It was wildly unprofessional.

But even worse, it sometimes made you... think things.

Like maybe when Gunwook smiled at you, he wasn’t just trying to please his boss. Like maybe he actually liked you. Even just as a friend. Maybe he really meant all of his niceties. That wasn't something you often experienced in your life.

“Right,” you reply finally, shaking your head a bit to stop the thought spiral. “Well, have a safe drive, Secretary Lee.”

“You as well, President-nim,” she says, glancing at your paperwork one more time. “Do you need new pens to be ordered for you?”

You tilt your head to the side confusedly. “Why do you say that?”

“Your writing isn’t as neat as it usually is, President-nim,” Secretary Lee says; the hint of a smirk appearing on her lips. “You’re starting to write chicken scratch... just like my son!"

“Very funny,” you deadpan, shooing her towards the door with your hand. “I do my own paperwork, Secretary Lee.”

“Of course, President-nim,” she allows with a laugh as she opens the door to your office and steps outside. “Whatever you say, President-nim!”

Like mother, like son.

__________________________________________

Pulling into a parking spot in front of Yonsei University’s Yonhee Hall, you quickly notice a small group of students in front of you ogling your car. In your high hopes to feel nostalgic and comfortable on a university campus again, you’d completely forgotten about the spectacle that is your baby blue 2024 Porsche 911.

Grabbing your phone and keys and stuffing them into your back pockets, you open the car door and climb out-- a chorus of excited whispers when the three students in front of you see your face.

“Whoah,” one boy says in disbelief. “Expensive car AND good-looking? That's just not fair."

“A student could never afford that car,” the girl next to him whispers back as you start to walk over to where they’re standing in front of the steps to the building. 

“I’m not a student,” you reply, which visibly shocks the girl and her friends. “Did you guys just get out of class?”

“At 1:15, yeah. Public Policy Analysis,” a shorter boy next to her replies. With a timid smile, he continues, “We’re heading to eat. Do you wanna join us?”

The girl hits his arm. “Don’t be so desperate.”

“Sorry,” the boy says quickly.

“Let’s just go,” the taller boy says. “Gunwook never comes to eat with us anyway-- I don’t know why you continue to insist that we invite him.”

You notice how the girl looks away in what appears to be embarrassment. Had this girl fallen for Gunwook, too?

You did not just think ‘too’.

You clear your throat, quickly repeating, “Gunwook?”

“Yeah, he’s our friend, sort of, who--...” The shorter boy starts to explain for you (which is very kind of him, considering you’re a total stranger), but his attention suddenly shifts to the top of the building steps behind you. “Oh there he is. Gunwook-ah!”

You turn around slowly to find Gunwook staring back at you wide-eyed. Noticing his black university hoodie and his Adidas joggers, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and his un-styled hair falling into his eyes... you have to physically swallow down the lump of anxiety that’s formed in your throat.

“(Y/N)?” Gunwook asks, running down the building steps to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Y-your mom had to deliver something in Incheon,” you reply nonchalantly as your downright adorable assistant flops his way down to you; towering over you from the step above and smiling.

"So you came to rescue me?" He asks with a smirk.

“Gunwook-ah,” the girl beside you calls, the slightest air of annoyance in her voice. “Is this your friend?”

“Yeah-- or... Um,” Gunwook stumbles as he grins at you. “My boss, actually.”

“You’re Gunwook's boss? I thought you worked for the President of KCTech Company,” the taller boy replies, eyeing you up and down suspiciously.

Gunwook nods-- not once taking his eyes off of you. “I do.”

“The President of KCTech Company is a teenager?” The girl scoffs, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“I turned 20 last month,” you correct with a grimace.

“Whoah,” the shorter boy whispers in awe. “So are you part of a chaebol family?”

Both of his friends issue a punch to his arms. “Sorry,” he says quickly.

“It’s okay. I am,” you say, shaking your head dismissively. “But I anxiously await you political science majors striking my family down with new policies in the future.”

“Okay, and we’re leaving,” Gunwook says, taking your arm and dragging you the rest of the way down the stairs with him.

“But I meant it,” you protest, trying to keep yourself from fully processing that Gunwook has now engulfed your hand in his gigantic one and seems to have no plans to let it go.

“I know you meant it, but we don’t need three university students selling a story to a tabloid about how the President of KCTech challenged them to economic warfare after class,” Gunwook explains with a sigh. As he pulls you towards your car, you hear the group of friends still mumbling about the interaction they just witnessed.

“Am I going crazy or is Gunwook... holding his boss’s hand?” The taller boy asks, wiping his eyes with his fists to make sure he’s seeing clearly.

The shorter boy laughs. “I'm pretty sure he also used informal speech.”

“Whatever,” you hear the girl huff sadly as Gunwook opens your car door for you and gestures for you to get in.

Once you’re inside your car, Gunwook shuts the door for you and makes his way to the other side. That’s when you realize... you’re sitting in the passenger’s seat.

Gunwook opens the driver’s side door and hops inside; watching as his classmates talk amongst each other-- debating whether or not to start to head to lunch. Your assistant waves to them happily through the front window.

“What are you doing?” You ask, shocked at your assistant’s actions.

“Waving to my friends,” he answers dumbly.

“Why are you acting like you’re about to drive my car!?” You exclaim, hand flying to his shoulder to shake him a bit.

Gunwook smirks at you. “Because I am.”

“No, no, no, no,” you squeeze his shoulder harder. “No, you are not.”

“You wouldn’t embarrass me in front of my classmates,” Gunwook challenges, batting his eyelashes cutely. “Would you, President-nim?”

Every time you think your assistant’s gone as far as he can go, he always pushes you a bit further. And you’d be bold-faced lying if you said you didn’t love it.

“Gunwookie,” you whine rather unprofessionally. “Ugh, fine. But if you crash this car, I swear I’m gonna--.”

Gunwook presses the start button on the car excitedly, fastening his seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space without looking both ways.

“Please, Gunwookie,” you beg, fastening your seatbelt frantically. “I really like this car. It’s the only present my father’s ever gotten me that I actually liked.”

The boy tenses a bit, meeting your gaze and nodding quietly in agreement before pressing the gas pedal with his foot at a responsible velocity. Gunwook drives through the campus and out onto the main road diligently, stopping for 3 seconds at stop signs, minding crosswalks, and breaking gradually. He’s a good driver-- which shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you, considering he’s good at pretty much everything he does.

He’d even painted some pretty convincing trees last week when you’d shown him the brush technique before you left work. 

“How come you don’t drive more often?” You ask, reaching to your back pocket and pulling out your phone. “Your mom has to drive you to work every day.”

“I don’t have a car,” Gunwook answers, signaling a turn. “Or a license.”

Your phone drops from your hands into your lap. “WHAT!?”

“Relax! I have a permit,” he says with a laugh as your hands fly to cover your face in despair. “You’re supervising me, President-nim. I know you won’t let anything bad happen to your favorite assistant.”

“The ice is so thin, Wookie.”

The nickname leaves your lips before you can consider its implications. Gunwook clears his throat awkwardly, focusing back on the road. You continue in silence for a bit, looking out the window as Gwanghwamun approaches. But there’s something you still want to say before you reach the office building.

“Gunwook-ah?”

The boy glances at you expectantly. “Yes, President-nim?”

“Those kids,” you start, watching as his grip on the steering wheel slips gradually to a more comfortable position. “They said they keep asking you to go to lunch after class with them.”

“Oh,” he replies, nodding as he sucks his teeth. “One, they're not kids-- they're literally a year younger than you and so am I. And, two, I don’t really have time. I have to get to the office by 1:30 to--”

“One, you're two years younger than me. And two, come at 2:30 from now on,” you interject. Gunwook’s eyebrows knit with confusion, but you continue, “Eat lunch with your classmates while you can.”

Your assistant’s expression softens as he meets your gaze, but you think you would prefer that he didn’t look at you with this much pity again any time soon.

“You’ll regret not spending more time doing fun things like that when you can’t anymore,” you explain, tugging at the skin around your nails. “You should be doing things you enjoy, is what I mean.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Gunwook says with a smile. “I’ll eat lunch with my classmates more often. But...”

You raise an eyebrow as Gunwook pulls into a parking spot on the street-- one that luckily doesn’t require him to parallel. He’s a good driver, but you’re not ready to test his skills that much. Pushing the engine button to turn the car off, Gunwook leans back in his seat and turns to look at you.

“I hope you know I also enjoy working, too,” he says; a cheeky grin lighting up his face as he adds, “With you.”

You pout at him to combat the smile that’s desperately trying to creep onto your face. “Who wouldn’t enjoy working with me?”

“Literally every person you’ve ever hired,” he throws back at you.

There’s not much you can say. He’s right. Which begs the question...

“Why do you like working with me?”

Gunwook hums contentedly. “There’s a lot of reasons.”

“Huh,” you reply, still admiring him in his street clothes. Unfortunately picking up Gunwook after class had only made your desire to be normal grow stronger. If things were different, maybe you would’ve met Gunwook in the dining hall on campus-- stared at him in his round glasses until one day you finally worked up the courage to speak to him. You’d have friends instead of employees. Art classes instead of meetings. Parties instead of paperwork. “They must be pretty good reasons to ditch lunch with your friends.”

“I actually usually skip lunch altogether so I can see you quicker,” he rebuts; eyes widening in panic as soon as he realizes what he’s just said. “I--... I mean, get to you quicker. You know... For work. And stuff.”

Gunwook was not known to throw an “and stuff” around very often-- he’s usually more eloquent and thoughtful when he speaks. The way his cheeks start to flush as he blinks at you; lips pouted like a baby chick... It's enough to make you wonder if his words might not have been a simple misspeaking, but rather a truth that slipped out accidentally.

“Come on,” you call, unfastening your seatbelt and opening the car door-- stepping out onto the sidewalk and waiting for your assistant to follow. Gunwook hops out of the car before sheepishly joining you on the sidewalk. You head towards the doors of your office building, but then, much to Gunwook’s surprise, continue to walk past them.

“President-nim?” He calls after you. “Where are you going?”

“To lunch,” you answer over your shoulder. “My assistant’s been going hungry in order to report to his boss on time! We don’t want a headline about that, do we?”

Hearing footsteps pounding against the pavement to catch up with you, your arm brushes against Gunwook’s as he falls into step beside you. “He does it willingly, though, (Y/N).”

“Not anymore, he doesn’t,” you reply, eyes focused on the road ahead of you in an effort to ignore his use of your name. “From now on, my favorite assistant will eat well and he’ll like it.”

Gunwook laughs next to you and you make the deadly mistake of looking up at him. He smiles at you fondly through the fringe that’s falling in his eyes and says softly:

“Whatever you say, President-nim.”