Work Text:
“Tangerine pie on the menu again, Kao?” asks Sandee, tucking her hair into a ponytail as she lets the light in through the windows. The café is ten minutes away from opening for the day, with Sun smoothing down his apron as he checks his hair in the mirror and Rain wiping down the tables again.
Sun had started the café back when Kao was in his first year of university, trying out different recipes for coffee and testing them out on him. Over days of getting his homework done on the bus ride to and back from school, and preparing for presentations in his lunch breaks, he’d somehow found the spare five minutes to help Sun come up with a menu. Grand opening day came with sunny skies and Kao excitedly bouncing on the tips of his feet as he watched people filter in and out, but it also brought Sun coughing so hard that Kao thought he was going to collapse any second -- and Rain is wonderful but useless at baking -- so he’d jumped in. The rest, as they say, is history.
He shrugs at Sandee, who hops onto the counter. She’s not technically an employee, but she likes to come hang out in the café earlier than everyone else -- something about “the vibes of it, Kao!” Sun had picked a good location, tucked away into a corner on a fairly busy street just up from their university, enough for them to have regulars, but enough for it to be warm and quiet.
“The tree at home won’t stop yielding fruit,” he says, as he shoots a glance to the toasty oven. It’ll take a while, still. He makes them fresh every morning, plucking the ripest tangerines off the tree with Gift before she heads off to school and before he heads off to the café, and class after that. “I checked the accounts -- it doesn’t cost any further expenses, but Mae and Gift and I cannot keep eating tangerine pie for every meal.”
“It sells, too!” says Rain, from the other side of the room. Sandee raises an eyebrow at him, and he withers. “Okay, it doesn’t sell as much as other things, but we make profit anyway. It’s good, P’Sandee!”
“Not many people eat fruit pie, that’s all,” says Sun, coming up behind Kao to give him a smile and a firm grip on the shoulder. Kao smiles back, dusting the flour off the counter. It had been awkward for them to work together in the beginning -- or as much as Kao can, anyway, with all of his classes and tutoring on the side -- but ever since Sun had grown more confident in the café, they’d become fast and steady friends, much like Kao and the Cool Gang. Besides, once Sun had started warming up to Mork -- who works part-time here, supervises part-time at a kindergarten -- Kao had suspected he had his sights set somewhere else, anyway. “Who cares? I like the pie, it tastes good with some cinnamon and it’s a nice pop of colour. Blue Sky Café special!”
Sandee’s mouth curls up into a smile as her fist darts out to punch Kao’s shoulder lightly. “Best baker,” she says, and Kao ducks to hide his own. “But I do eagerly await the day where someone tries the pie without one of you specifically recommending it.”
“Oh, my God,” says Rain, laughing as he drops the rag in the sink. “Mork and P’June are the worst when they’re pulled in for work. I think we’ve scared more than a couple of customers off with the intensity of their pie praise.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” mutters Kao, swatting him away. The pie isn’t the only thing he bakes -- most of the desserts have been hand-made by him and Sun on the weekend, the day before, or in the morning -- but it is the only thing that nobody else knows how to bake. There’s a reason why it’s called sin(gerine) divided by cos(gerine) pie on the menu. Maths jokes and pies are Kao’s forte, and Sun likes him enough to have let him name his pie.
“I’m not being ridiculous ,” says Rain, pouting. “If Mork were here, he’d agree with me.”
Sun shoos him away. “He’s not here this morning, so make yourself useful and go open up,” he says, and Rain stalks away, muttering under his breath as he flips the sign and rolls up the rest of the blinds. Kao can’t help but grin just a bit. Sun hip-checks him while putting the menus out on the front of the counters, looking up at Sandee on the counter as he does so. “You know if Thada and June will be here later today?”
She shrugs. “Thada has classes till the afternoon, he’ll probably pop by later for a coffee,” she says, and then pulls a face. “You know June.”
Sun nods sagely, and Kao has to smother a laugh as he rocks back on his heels. June and Thada help out when they can, bringing in orders and charming -- or in June’s case, begging -- people into coming to the café. Through their so-called connections, Kao is fairly sure that almost everyone in their year, mechanical engineering or not, has been at least once. It’s been great for his tutoring business as well, having put up flyers on the noticeboard and first-years approaching him as he whips up their lattes. All in all, business is booming. June, however, is the world’s flakiest employee. Kao is pretty sure that Sun has taken him off the café employee list, and June seems fine with it, but they still let him man the counter every once in a while. Kao tries to slip him some bucks every now and then when he does, but he never takes it. He supposes it’s just the magic of being June’s friend -- you can’t count on him to show up on time, but you can count on the fact that when he shows up, he will save you.
He’s brought back to the present when Sandee jumps off the counter, strolling back to her seat as the bell above the door jingles, letting in the first customers of the day. Kao waves at them as they slink into their regular spots, already knowing that their regular will be brought to them without question. He loves the morning regulars, some of the first people to try his cooking and the first to support the café apart from his direct friends. He’s made it a point to remember their names, their jobs, their studies. As the coffee machine gets going and the pie starts to turn golden brown in the oven, he cuts careful slices of their cakes and settles pastries on the sides of plates, humming to himself as he balances them on his arms, fingers hooked around the handles of mugs, and making his way throughout the shop.
“Morning, Manaow,” he says, setting down a puff and cup of coffee in front of her. She smiles when she looks up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Kao’s heart softens -- she’s one of his best students, with a good head on her shoulders. “What are you doing today?”
She flips her pencil in between her fingers. “Calc homework,” she says, taking a long drag from the still-steaming coffee. Kao would be concerned if he didn’t know her and how she likes to drink her coffee boiling. “It’s boring -- but at least I’ve gotten better at it.”
“You can’t win every battle,” says Kao, sneaking a look at her sums. “If you’ve got any questions, we’ll talk about it afterwards, okay?”
She nods, humming. Kao’s about to move away when she grips a hand around his wrist, turning him back. “I just wanted to ask,” she says, eyes flitting around the café, “is Rain in today?”
A hint of a smile works its way into the creases of Kao’s mouth as he detaches her hand from his wrist softly. Manaow has a good head on her shoulders, and he trusts her. Sun may trust her less, but seeing as Rain is her brother, Kao thinks he’s entitled to be a little mistrusting. A quick dart of a thought dashes through his mind, one of Gift liking someone, and he shudders away from it. That’s not something that has to be contemplated upon now.
He clears his throat, jerking a thumb behind his shoulder, and says, “He is.” It’s a surprise that Rain hasn’t rushed to Manaow’s side the instant she stepped into the café, but he’s busy regaling the older women with his tales of university. They’ve taken a liking to Rain, and he says they remind him of his grandmother. “His shift’ll end around midday, depending on how much work he gets done today. Should I let him know you asked for him?”
Panic darts through Manaow’s eyes. “No!” she exclaims, before smoothing down her shirt. “No, I’ll… text him.”
Kao smiles, re-adjusting the rest of the food in his hands. “Study hard,” he says, and she rolls his eyes at him as he drifts away, passing from table to table and murmuring pleasantries, as Sun takes care of the odd customer who wanders in for the first time.
Once Kao is done with his rounds, he trails away back to the counter. He’s about to slip the mitts on, noticing the crust turning golden brown in the oven, to take the pie out and let it cool before he cuts careful slices, when the telltale jingle of the bell rings softly through the store. He pulls the pie out anyway, catching Sun attending to another customer, before he deposits it on the counter. He takes the mitts off, wiping his hands down on some cloth, and looks up to find a first-time customer -- someone he’s never seen before, so he has to be -- with his nose in the menu.
“Hi, welcome to Blue Sky Café, what can I get you?” says Kao, wincing when he does. He winces every time he has to say it -- Sun says it’s good for business and new customers, Kao thinks it’s ridiculous and makes him sound like a corporate cog, and Sun usually counters with the fact that he is one and will be one in the future.
The man looks up, putting the menu down on the counter. In retrospect, Kao thinks the first thing he noticed about him was his small smile, all nested into his mouth and soft. For a second, he thinks he forgets how to speak. The man in front of him is so astonishingly handsome that he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, blinking back to himself when his hand almost sears against the hot pie tin on the counter. Kao hisses between his teeth, shaking his hand back up and pressing against the spot with his fingers. The man quirks an eyebrow. “Are you okay?” he asks, and he seems genuinely concerned, little creases denting into his forehead.
“Yeah, fine,” says Kao, waving his other hand. He swallows. “So, uh, what can I get you?”
The man leans onto the counter, his long fingers twirling into themselves. “I’m not too sure -- it’s my first time here. What would you recommend to drink?”
This is familiar territory. Kao spins the menu over to him, pointing at the names, and says, “Well, we’ve got your normal drinks like cappuccinos and lattes and whatnot, but the special is our black forest latte. Tastes like a black forest cake, but in coffee form, and less sweet.” When he looks back up at him, he finds the stranger still glancing at him, in a way that makes his heart stutter in his chest. “So… that’s it.”
“I’ll have that latte, then,” he says, looking back at the menu. Kao scribbles down the number on the scrap of paper hanging above him to slide it over to Sun, whose eyes he can feel boring into his back. He’s about to ring the guy up when he laughs, melodic. Kao’s struck to the spot again, like a deer in headlights.
“Is there,” he starts, clearing his throat, “...anything else you wanted?”
The man points at a name on the menu. “Sine-gerine divided by cosine-gerine?” he says, a hint of a smile wrapped around his mouth. “That’s so bad, who thought of it?”
He says the word bad like it’s something good, so Kao doesn’t take immediate offense to it. “I did,” he says, plucking the menu out of his hands. “I study engineering, and well -- I made the pie.”
His eyes light up, spotting the pie cooling on the counter. “Is it this one?” he asks, with a kind of boyish excitement that’s infectious, snaking its warm way into Kao’s own body. “Can I have a slice?”
Kao blinks. He vaguely reminds himself to remember the date and time -- the first time in Blue Sky Café’s short history that someone has asked to try the tangerine pie on purpose, as a first choice instead of something they pick later, if at all -- before swallowing and saying, “Yeah, of course. Give it a few minutes to cool -- I’ll get your coffee till then. What’s your name?”
“Pete,” says Pete, and Kao thinks he could get used to his sunshine smile. “I study engineering, too. Do you go to the university down the road?”
Kao nods, scribbling down his orders. He catches Sun’s questioning eye out of the corner of his peripheral vision. “Funny we haven’t seen each other before.”
Pete hums. “Funny,” he says, as if he’s contemplating something. Kao wants to ask, but seeing as they’d just met, he decides to let it pass. He rings him up, money exchanging hands, before Pete is tucking his satchel underneath his arm. “I’ll go sit down, then.”
Kao watches Pete tuck himself into a seat next to the window, opening a laptop as he curls his legs under himself. He smiles quietly, before Sun is at his side, the black forest latte going on the coffee machine, and poking him in the side. “Who is that? ” he whispers, jerking his head at Pete. “What did he order?”
“Black forest latte, get on with it,” says Kao, but Sun doesn’t budge. He sighs, forcing out a small smile at a regular who waves before heading out, and continues, “And a slice of tangerine pie.”
Sun’s eyes almost fall out of his head as he shakes Kao. “Are you kidding?” he hisses, and Kao thinks he’s really being quite dramatic. He sneaks a glance back over at Pete himself, whose eyebrows are scrunched up in concentration; Kao thinks he looks kind of cute. “Did he get it because of the joke?”
Kao nods, humming as he cuts a slice of pie. “Yes,” he says, gesturing with the knife. Sun ducks out of range. “Told you somebody would find it funny.”
“A match made in heaven,” says Sun, and Kao tampers down a blush. “He’s good-looking. Go on, get his number!”
Kao doesn’t dignify that with a response, leaving Sun to tend to the other customers and Rain to man the counter as he grabs the plate with the slice of pie on it and Pete’s coffee. He’s sitting at the farthest corner of the room, and Kao makes sure to make idle conversation with all the customers on the way. When he reaches Pete’s table, Pete tugs the earphones out of his ears, smiling up at him. Kao sets down the pie and coffee, smoothing his hands down on his apron, almost nervous as Pete dips his fork into it and takes a bite. He doesn’t know why he’s waiting around while there’s customers to be attended to, and Manaow, who’s probably got a question about her homework. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, why he wants this stranger’s approval of all things, but Pete smiles at him, with just a little bit of pastry crumb settled on his lower lip.
“It’s incredible!” he gushes, and Kao’s cheeks redden. “Seriously, I’ve got to come here more often -- don’t know how I haven’t before. What’s your name?”
“Kao,” says Kao, fiddling with the hem of his apron. He’s never been so nervous around someone before. “I, uh, work here part-time.”
Pete hums. “Kao,” he says, like he’s savouring it, just as he did the pie. “I’ll remember that.”
Kao has a feeling he will.
BLUE SKY CAFÉ GC
(Members: a lil rain, clown june, da, dee, grump mork, here comes the sun, kitty kat)
Description: Strictly for professional purposes! - Sun // But P’Sun, how will we organise the weekly dinners? - June // Oh, why do I even bother - Sun.
here comes the sun: you will NOT believe what happened today
here comes the sun: so you all know how kao’s tangerine pie is something we solely recommend (bc it’s amazing kao)
here comes the sun: so i’m minding my business making the coffees, when this GUY shows up and what does he do… he flirts with kao and asks for the tangerine pie bc he thought the maths joke on the menu was funny!
kao: he’s exaggerating, he did not flirt with me
dee: i was there and watching out of the corner of my eye - the guy was cute (high compliment from me i know) and he seemed really into you
clown june: can’t believe our little Kao is growing up!
clown june: it’s time u get a boyfriend
grump mork: he thought the joke on the menu was funny?
grump mork: damn kao… ask him out
da: send pic
kao: no??? idek his instagram, what do u want
kitty kat: but the real question is…
kitty kat: are you interested
kao: brb gonna go find new friends
a lil rain: you’re stuck with us
a lil rain: also I’m so mad at myself for not seeing that guy
here comes the sun: i have a feeling he’ll be back soon… considering the tangerine pie and all
dee: ah yes just the tangerine pie :’)
kao: isn’t this supposed to be a work chat
kao: smh
Pete does make a reappearance.
Kao isn’t there the next morning, scribbling down notes during his early lecture, but he walks down to the café after that, relishing in the cool air as he strolls down the street. It’ll be warm soon, so he’ll take every opportunity to take pleasure in the colder weather. When he walks in, he finds Sun gesturing wildly at him. He hangs his bag on a peg, deftly plucking his apron off another hook behind the counter and tying it around his back.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, washing his hands in the sink. He spots Thada at the tables, and raises his hand in a wave to him as he makes his way through the café.
Sun nudges him, jerking his head at the back. “Your boy’s here,” he says, moving away to continue with the coffees. Kao looks up to the window seat, and sure enough, Pete’s sitting there, with a coffee mug in his hand and focused on his laptop. Kao tampers down the small flutter in his heart.
He grabs a bowl from the cupboard. “He’s not my boy,” he says, matter-of-factly. He still shoots up a look to where Pete is sitting, noting he doesn’t have any other plates around him. “He said he’d come back, what are you surprised about? It’s good for business.”
Before Sun can reply, Thada slips around the counter and interjects, “Hey, is that your boy?”
Kao rolls his eyes and the pie crust. “That’s the one who picked the tangerine pie, yeah,” he says. “I don’t know what you guys want me to do -- I don’t have time for a relationship.”
Thada swats him away. “He’s looking at you,” he says, but Kao doesn’t look up. “Oh, shit , he’s coming here.” Kao glances up at Thada, then, who pats his shoulder and makes himself scarce. When he looks around, he sees Sun on the other side of the counter. He sighs, but smiles at Pete when he comes up.
“Hey,” he says, putting his empty mug on the counter. “I thought you weren’t in today.”
“Sorry, I was in class,” says Kao, pointing at the mug. “Did you want a refill?”
“Sure,” says Pete, leaning against the counter. Kao makes himself busy with refilling the mug, trying not to focus on how the first two buttons of Pete’s deep blue shirt are unbuttoned and how flustered that gets him, the tips of his ears turning hotter. He sets the mug back on the counter with another counter.
“Do you want anything else?” he asks, and Pete looks down at what he’s making.
He grins, and it’s funny how much younger that makes him look. “Do you have a slice of that tangerine pie from yesterday?” he asks, striking surprise into Kao again. “It was really good. Also, I still can’t get over that joke.”
Kao laughs, flattening out the crust. “I’m making it right now,” he says, apologetically. “It’ll take some time.”
“That’s okay,” says Pete, hooking a finger around the handle of his mug. “I can wait. So, have you been working here long?”
“Ever since it opened up around a year ago,” says Kao, reaching for the bowl and the endless supply of tangerines they keep in the cupboards under the counter. He gets to peeling, deft. “I helped with the menu, actually.”
“Explains the joke,” says Pete, eyes softening. “You know, I’ve never had tangerine pie before. What’s the inspiration behind it?”
Kao smiles at him. He can’t remember the last time someone had taken such an interest in him. “I have a tangerine tree at home, and it won’t stop giving us fruit. My family’s tired of tangerines -- so I decided to come up with that pie.”
“They’re missing out,” says Pete, quite seriously. He straightens up. “I could eat that every day for the rest of my life.”
He looks at Kao like he means something else, and Kao keeps his gaze fixed on his own hands, peeling the tangerines like second nature, like the peeler is just an extension of his own arm. His cheeks grow hot, and he manages out a, “I’m glad you like it.”
Pete beams. “I’m glad you decided to make it,” he says, and as Kao makes the filling for the pie, he tells him of his own life -- of his father and of his own cooking skills, which are fairly nonexistent, of their garden and the limes in it and how he might plant a tangerine tree now, of what he studies and how he’s surprised that they’ve never crossed each other paths before. He asks Kao about every single ingredient that goes into the filling, and Kao tells him. Afterwards, when the pie is in the oven and Pete reluctantly excuses himself to go continue working on his assignment, Thada pops back up, gripping his shoulder and grinning.
“He’s smitten with you,” he says, lighting up. “A real movie romance!”
Kao shrugs him off, but smiles. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Pete works his way into Kao’s life easily after that.
He comes in almost every morning, figuring out Kao’s schedule without even asking him, and sits in the window seat, with a different coffee every day and still the same pie. Kao had once asked him if he wanted to try anything else, because the other baked goods on the menu were usually made by him, but Pete had always shaken his head and pulled his slice of pie closer to him. He worked on his assignments, Kao worked at the counter, sometimes joining him after his shift to help him out on his reports and let Pete look through his. Throughout all of this, Kao didn’t dare ask for Pete’s number, didn’t dare ask him out, in fear of ruining what they already had together. Sun threatens him every time, but Kao doesn’t budge.
Today is no different. Kao watches Pete stretch out in his chair from the corner of his eye as the pie bakes in the oven, and then looks up when Mork walks in through the back door. It’s been quite a while since they’d worked on the same shift, so a little spark of happiness sets itself aflame in Kao’s heart when he sees him. He averts his eyes when Mork talks to Sun -- he doesn’t know where both of them stand, but he does know it’s none of his business -- and waits until he washes his hands under the tap in the sink.
“Hi, Kao,” he says, tying his apron behind his back. Sun had finally caved and gotten one with his name on it. “How’s it going?”
“Pie’s in the oven,” he says, jerking a finger to the side. “I’m okay, how about you?”
Mork leans forward, eyes alight with excitement. “Forget me, is your tangerine pie boy here? I’m the last to see him, aren’t I?”
“Rain hasn’t either,” he replies, giving up with contending the way his friends refer to Pete. “He’s over there, in the window seat.”
Mork blinks as his eyes trail through the café, before letting out a quiet laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, slapping a rag over his shoulder. “Of course -- I’m so stupid.”
“Huh?” says Kao, but before Mork can even dignify that with a response, he’s leaning over the counter and waving. He’s never seen Mork like this before -- he prefers to keep to himself and pretend to be grumpy.
“Pete!” he yells, and Kao is incredulous . Pete looks up, mouth splitting into a wide grin when he spots Mork. “What are you doing here?”
Pete bounds up to the front, clasping Mork’s hand in a handshake. Kao feels like he needs to step back or pause this moment -- two of his worlds colliding in colour. “You work here?” he asks, laughing. “I’ve been coming here every day for a couple of weeks now -- how come I haven’t seen you?”
“Shut up about that,” says Mork, glancing back at Kao. “This is your tangerine pie boy, Kao?”
“His--what…?” starts Pete, looking between the two of them.
Kao sighs and nods. “How do you know him?” he asks, casting a glance towards the oven. He’s still got a couple of minutes until the crust becomes golden brown.
“He works with me at the kindergarten,” he says, looking back at Pete, his eyes suddenly knowing, and before Kao can process that glance, Mork is grinning and saying, “So this is the guy you…”
“Shut up, Mork,” interrupts Pete, turning to Kao instead. “Ignore this guy -- I can’t believe you work with him, too. He’s insufferable, isn’t he?”
Kao smiles, slipping the mitts on to take the fresh pie out of the oven and depositing it safely on the table. “He’s a pleasure,” he says, without any hint of sarcasm. “You want a slice, Pete?”
Pete nods, and Mork gives Kao that damned knowing look again, and Kao is still irrevocably smitten with the way Pete smiles before digging into his own slice of pie.
The day shouldn’t be any different.
Meaning: Kao walks into the café, ties his apron behind his back, and starts rolling out the pie crust like he does every morning. When he looks up and scans the shop, however, he doesn’t see a familiar face. He turns to Sun, who’s busy with the coffee machine, and asks, “Hey, was Pete already in today?”
Sun frowns, his brow dipping into a crease. “I don’t think so,” he says, eyes flitting around the shop himself. “I’m sure he’s just caught up in something, Kao, no need to stress.”
“Not stressing,” mumbles Kao, but he’s rolling the crust out with a kind of viciousness that he’s never possessed before, internally kicking himself for not getting Pete’s number.
He can’t fool himself — it’s been nice having someone take interest in him over the past few weeks, someone as handsome and lovely as Pete. Kao would never let himself admit out loud, but he thinks he may be just a little in love. Pete shows up every morning without fail for various amounts of time, depending on his classes, as the sun turns golden and streams in decadent light into the café, and talks to Kao like it’s the best part of his day. Kao doesn’t really want to admit it, but he thinks he’s been complacent for way too long before he’d met Pete. He’d been going through the motions of classes, notes, homework, presentations, tutoring, working at the café, folding clothes with his mother, getting in his daily calls to Gift -- but he hasn’t really been doing anything with his life. He thinks Pete woke him up, in a way.
He mixes the filling up, depositing it into the pie crust and carefully tucking it into the oven. Kao shakes his thoughts off -- it doesn’t matter, really. Pete will be back tomorrow, or he can find him at school, if he really needs to. He watches the pie in the oven, hoping that someone will have the first slice today, someone who’s not him. A few minutes pass before he snaps back out of it, tending to the next customer and ignoring the worried looks that Sun keeps shooting him.
“Hey,” says a familiar voice, and Kao shoots up to see Pete standing there, sheepish and tired, holding a small Tupperware box in his hands. “Sorry I’m late.”
Kao’s heart lifts, almost guiltily. “Don’t apologise,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’ve you got there?”
Pete looks down, like he’s forgotten he’s holding something. “Oh,” he says, and his cheeks redden. Kao is captivated by it -- he’s never seen him blush before. “So -- this is kind of inspired by your pie. I’ve always wanted to make one using the limes in our backyard, but I never really thought that I specifically could make one? But you somehow… I don’t know. Do you want to try some?”
Kao grabs a fork from the drawer, continuing to ignore Sun’s looks. “Of course I do,” he says, and Pete grins at him, so wide that Kao feels like he’s looking directly into the sun. He takes the lid off the box, dips his fork into the pie, and tastes some. It’s key lime pie, tart and sweet, the crust just a little overcooked and crispy, but still good. He smiles at Pete. “It’s great! I’m telling you, we need to get more fruit pies here at the café.”
“You really think it’s good?” asks Pete, eyes wide. He looks so vulnerable in that moment that Kao can’t help but take another bite of the pie and smile again.
“I really do,” he says, as sincere as he can make it. “If you had to give it a name for the menu, what would it be?”
Pete puts a hand on his chin. “Maybe…” he says, looking at Kao instead of the pie, “you’re sublime ?”
Kao glances at him, then, and the weight of his gaze is too heavy for him to bear. He clears his throat, his cheeks growing hotter. “That’s great,” he says, and before he can stop himself, he continues with, “Do you want to go to the farmer’s market this weekend to pick out some fruits for pie?”
Pete raises an eyebrow, and Kao thinks he wants to melt into the ground. Pete’s a cool boy, someone that shouldn’t even be taking interest in a person like Kao, but still someone who made key lime pie because Kao made his tangerine one, someone who probably obsessed over his pick of the fruits and tried so hard to get it right. So maybe, in the end, Pete likes him more than Kao gives him credit for, because he beams and says, “I was going to ask you the same thing. I might have researched it.”
“Cool,” says Kao, grinning. “I’ll get your phone number from Mork. You--”
Pete breathes in and says, “But, I mean -- this is a date, right? Or have I been reading this all wrong?”
Kao’s heart stutters. Handsome Pete, all made of light and sweaters and shirts and smiles that could rival the sun in its brightness -- who’d changed his life in such an easy way that made Kao excited to get up in the mornings and watch him just do his assignments with his first pick of tangerine pie at his side, wants to go on a date with him. He puts his fork down. “Yes,” he says, watching the way Pete’s frown eases out, “this is a date.”
He smiles. “I can’t wait,” he says, and then his face changes. “Mork is never going to let me hear the end of this. I baked a pie for you -- and it was so much fun.”
“You know,” says Kao slowly, “you were the first one to actually go for the tangerine pie.”
Pete’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding,” he says. “Everyone’s been missing out, Kao.”
As Pete goes on a rant about how the tangerine pie basically changed his life, Kao smiles and listens to him go on with his hand on his chin, looking up at him. Maybe, he thinks, as the sun filters through the café and the pie bakes in the oven, the sweet tangerine smell wafting through the rest of the room -- the time’s come where he’s someone’s first pick.