Work Text:
This is the moment that Even’s been waiting for all day. To be honest, it’s the moment that he’s been waiting for all week, but he doesn’t really want to admit that. He thinks Yousef knows anyways, mainly because he just buzzed up Hot Pizza Boy and Even skidded into the room in his socks and crashed into the countertop.
“Are you… okay?” Yousef asks, narrowing his eyes. Even is clutching at his thigh because there is definitely a bruise forming fast, but then the doorbell rings and he’s suddenly cured enough to stand behind Yousef, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Yousef swings the door open and there’s Hot Pizza Boy with three pizzas and a backwards snapback and curls that poke out over his ears and Even sends out a thank you to the universe for creating such a being.
“Hey, man,” Yousef says, handing over some money.
Hot Pizza Boy grins (it lights up the entire fucking apartment), slides the boxes awkwardly to Yousef (Even thinks that he suddenly develops a kink for his hands, is that weird?), and then glances over to Even (his eyes are green or gray or some mix of light and dark and glowing and dark eyelashes and they feel electric when they meet Even’s and he might possibly be in love with this boy whose voice he’s never even heard, which is definitely weird).
He grabs the money, tucks it sloppily into his pocket and Even knows that he’s about to leave, so he opens his mouth to say something and --
Mikael slams into him from the side.
“What the fuck ,” Even sputters, stumbling under the impact. But Mikael’s unpredictable and they’ve been Even’s best friend for ever , so, instinctively, Even slings a left hook into Mikael’s stomach and they cough. Mikael bends, angling their shoulder into Even’s chest and then the two of them are wrestling in the middle of the apartment while Yousef and Hot Pizza Boy look on -- Yousef with vague disinterest and Hot Pizza Boy with a mix of confusion and concern.
“Mikael’s winning,” Yousef says unhelpfully.
Which, actually, they are, having pinned Even to floor, knee on his chest, but Even’s not going to admit defeat that easily. Another benefit of being best friends is that Even knows exactly how to get them off. He lets Mikael think they’re winning for a few more seconds and then squirms an arm up to reach for their neck, and as soon as his fingers touch the soft spot under Mikael’s jaw, they shriek , probably loud enough that their neighbors will complain again, but that doesn’t really matter. Mikael flings away from Even, landing on the floor next to him, and both of them lay there for a second, breathing heavily.
“I’m gonna… go,” Hot Pizza Boy says slowly (Even would give his firstborn child to hear that voice saying his name).
“Probably for the best,” Yousef answers, shooting him an apologetic grin. “You working next Friday, though?”
The boy nods, quick and certain, and Yousef says, “Cool, see you then.” He closes the door and Even promptly socks Mikael in the shoulder.
“Why the fuck did you tackle me?”
Mikael holds up both hands in surrender. “It was for your own good,” they say seriously. “You were about to say something really fucking stupid, and my job is to defend you from yourself.”
Even opens his mouth to argue back, but nothing comes out, because Mikael’s right, of course. Fuck them.
“You’re both ridiculous,” Yousef says. “Get off the floor and come over to ours.”
Mikael springs up and offers Even a hand, pulling him to his feet. Yousef’s already across the hall, leaving the door open behind him, and Even and Mikael tumble into Yousef and Elias’s apartment at the same time, barely able to squeeze through the door together.
“Even’s in love,” Mikael announces, causing Elias, Mutta, and Adam all look up from their respective positions on the couches.
“Who’s it this time?” Elias asks drily. “Girl who works at the coffee shop? Stranger in the library? Person who caught his eye across a busy street?”
Even shoots him a middle finger and flips open the first pizza box, frowning when he sees the pepperoni.
“Pizza delivery boy,” Yousef says, flopping down beside Elias.
Sliding the first box off to the side, Even opens the second, and -- pepperoni.
Adam snorts. “Of course. Is that why we got that text about eating pizza every Friday from now on?”
“Guys,” Even says, shuffling the boxes and peeling open the last one to find more pepperoni.
“Is he even cute ?” Mutta asks.
“ Guys ,” Even repeats.
“What, Even?”
He points at the pizza and just says, “Pepperoni.”
Everyone pokes heads over the couch to see, looking like a bunch of owls. Or something with heads, Even thinks. Whatever, similes are overrated anyways.
“Shit, it’s not halal?” Elias asks. He scrambles over the back of the couch to stand next to Even, looking at the pizza forlornly.
“How tragic,” Mikael says dramatically, “that Even’s boy is a complete failure.”
“No, listen,” Even says, glaring at Mikael. “This is perfect. I’m going to call the pizza place and they’re going to have bring us the right pizzas and Hot Pizza Boy will have to bring them.”
“Almost like fate,” Elias says.
Even shakes his head. “Nah, fuck fate. Nothing happens if I don’t call, right?”
“Be the director of your own life,” Mikael says in an obvious mockery of Even, but nobody get it and Even’s simultaneously a little upset that they haven’t listened to his rants and a little pleased that Mikael knows him so well.
Even throws himself on the couch between Yousef and Mikael and props his feet up on the table, phone ringing against his ear.
“Hi,” he says immediately when someone answers, “we ordered, uh, three cheese pizzas and we got three pepperoni.”
“Oh, fuck ,” the voice on the other end says. “Fuck, can you, like, uh, peel it off? Or something?”
“Yeah, that’s not going to work. The juices get on the cheese, or something. But can we just get new pizzas?”
The disembodied voice sighs. “Yeah, sorry. Wait -- are you the group of guys that live across from each other and order like, an unhealthy amount of pizza?”
“Don’t judge our eating habits,” Even says. He likes pizza.
“Shit, I’m not judging you. I’ve had nothing but Hot Cheetos for the past two days. I was just asking because I usually check the pizzas before I drop them off and I must have forgot or something,” the voice says. And -- Even starts to put it together. He’s talking to Hot Pizza Boy. Hot Pizza Boy, who swears like a sailor and eats Hot Cheetos. God.
“Yeah, no, it’s chill,” Even finds himself saying calmly over the sound of his brain screaming. “Uh, I’ll see you soon, then? We’re in the apartment across the one you just delivered to.”
“Sweet, thanks,” Hot Pizza Boy tells him, and then there’s a few high pitched beeps like he’s trying to hang up and then --
“Magnus, you fucking dumbass, you gave me the wrong fucking pizzas,” Hot Pizza Boy yells over the phone.
“You’re stressing me out,” another voice screams back, and Even considers hanging up, but he stays for the chance of hearing Hot Pizza Boy’s voice more.
“Yo, Isak, the headset’s still connected,” a third voice says, and Hot Pizza Boy -- Isak , Even realizes delightfully -- swears again, and then hangs up for real.
“Is your boy bringing us more pizza?” Mutta asks, laying back on Adam’s shoulder. “And nobody answered my question from before -- is he even cute?”
“He’s gorgeous,” Even says without thinking.
Mikael’s nodding along and they add, “Yeah, he’s like, super pretty.”
“No, nope, no way. I call dibs.”
“You can’t call dibs on a person,” Elias mutters.
“Relax,” Mikael says, waving their hand in the air. “He’s not my type. I like that other pizza boy, you know? The hot one with the fluffy hair and the eyebrows, you know, the one who wears shirts with Marxist slogans to work.”
Everyone erupts into bickering, a weird mixture of debate about performative activism, survival in a capitalist society, and the validity of pineapple on pizza.
When the doorbell rings, however, Even stops talking and flings himself off of the couch, hitting the edge of the table again , another bruise probably blooming on his knee, and this boy better fucking love him, because he is suffering , damn it.
He throws open the door with one hand on the doorknob and his other hand leaning on the frame, nice and casual, just chilling, smooth as fuck.
“Hey,” he says, ignoring his friends cracking up behind him.
Isak smiles crookedly at him (Even dies) and holds out three boxes of pizza. “Okay, so I checked them like, six times, but please make sure they’re all cheese before I go,” he says.
And Even takes that opportunity to take a step closer to him, breathing in the smell of pizza and feeling the heat radiating from the boxes and yes, okay, maybe he pretends that he can smell Isak’s cologne and that the heat building between them isn’t from the freshly cooked pizza. “Actually,” he says, glancing down at the boxes, “do you want to just come in and put them on the table so we can spread them out?”
He doesn’t really believe that Isak take him up on the offer, actually walks into a strange apartment full of five boys and one non-binary person, but he does. Happily.
“Pizza,” Even tells everyone unnecessarily. Mutta, Adam, and Elias are all barely holding back laughter, and Mikael’s mouthing something at him that looks suspiciously like don’t fuck up . Yousef just looks exhausted by it all.
Isak slides the pizzas on the table and looks at the other boxes, open to display the pepperoni, mumbling, “Fucking Magnus.”
He pushes the boxes around on the little table enough that he can open them and look, turning to Even with eyes wide and asking for confirmation (he looks cute as shit and Even’s heart grows like he’s the Grinch or something).
“Looks like cheese to me,” Even says, smiling. He considers making some joke, a pun about cheese and cheesy puns, but then he sees Mikael shaking their head in his peripheral vision and decides to skip it. It’s probably the better choice.
Isak lets out a light little laugh, more of a huff of breath, and says, “Yeah. Uh, do you want me to take the pepperoni, or…”
“I mean,” Even says slowly, “I can probably eat, like, a pizza and a half by myself, so you only have to take one of the boxes.” And that’s, you know, not the best thing to say to your crush.
“That’s… ambitious,” Isak says, raising his eyebrows and quirking his lips up into a smile (!!!!!!!!!).
Even leans away, touching his hand to his chest in dramatics. “What, are you saying I can’t do it? First, you judge my eating habits, and then you come here, to my home, and doubt me.”
“Even,” Elias says, “this isn’t your home.”
“You come here, to Elias and Yousef’s home, and doubt me.”
“Yeah, better.”
Isak looks around at the whole situation -- pizzas piled onto the table, five heads staring over the couch cushions with varying degrees of interest, Even still in the midst of acting as dramatic as possible.
“I’m not saying you can’t do it,” Isak tells Even, still grinning. “I’m just saying that, like, as someone who’s eaten two pizzas, it’s ambitious and also terrible.”
“Wow, so now you’re saying that you’re better than me at eating pizza,” Even shoots back, raising his eyebrows. Is this flirting? This feels like flirting, but, like, weird flirting. Even-type flirting, which, to be fair, is not for everyone. But maybe it’s for Isak.
“Do I sense a challenge?” Mikael pipes up, leaning over the side of the couch eagerly. Their face is practically glowing and Yousef looks incredibly conflicted about whether to stop them or not.
And that’s the story of how Isak and Even fell in love over six boxes of pizza, halfway because of fate and halfway because of choice.