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“Say, have you ever tried pineapple on pizza?” Joseph questioned. He was lying upside down on the couch next to Caesar, who was trying to read in peace.
“No, and I never will. It’s disgusting,” Caesar said simply, trying his very best to ignore the idiot beside him. Unfortunately, Joseph started swinging his legs until he fell straight onto his head.
“Ow, fuck! You’re wrong. It’s amazing. It’s like dessert on pizza, Caesar! Oh my gosh, this would be the perfect date we were talking about!” Joseph collected himself to sit criss-cross on the floor, looking up at Caesar gleefully.
“No. No.”
“We’re gonna go out for pineapple pizza! Please?”
“Nope.”
“But...what if...I pay? And, if you don’t like it, you get to choose where we go for the next date, and I’ll pay again!” Joseph bribed.
“No.”
“Pretty, pretty please?” he pouted, giving Caesar his best puppy eyes from the floor. His hair was all messy from falling, and he just looked...he looked...like a huge moron.
“Ugh, fine!”
They decided to walk to a quaint little Italian restaurant, Joseph raving about how glorious pineapple on pizza was the whole way with Caesar in tow. It felt like an eternity before they finally arrived to see that there weren’t very many people in there just yet. (They did decide to go a bit early, because someone just couldn’t wait.) Caesar, for one, was very much glad that it wasn’t too crowded—less people to see him commit the sin of eating pineapple on pizza. The waitress was a polite young lady who seemed a bit nervous about taking their orders—Joseph’s shameless flirting certainly didn’t help the situation. Caesar was going to have to tell him off for that, once they were in private—had Joseph never gone on a date with anyone even remotely possessive? Was it not obvious that flirting with other people in front of the person you’re on a date with was highly frowned upon?
Whatever. Caesar felt vaguely betrayed, but ignored it. Hopefully this meant he’d find someone else to force to eat pineapple pizza.
Joseph ordered a large pizza, two waters, and two baskets of breadsticks.
“We are not going to finish a large, Joseph.”
“You’ll see. I bet you ten bucks you’re going to eat a solid half.”
“Ugh, sure. You’ll be giving me ten bucks soon.” There was an awkward pause. “So...I take it you like grissino?” Caesar inquired, trying to make conversation.
“...Greasy what now?” Joseph muttered.
“Grissino,” he repeated.
“Yeah, I know what you said. What’s that?”
“Grissino. Breadsticks?”
“...Oh,” Joseph mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling awkwardly. “...Yeah. Greasy-now is pretty good.”
Caesar just scoffed. Sometimes he just couldn’t handle Joseph’s blatant idiocy—if he were to correct him, he would probably tease him by continuing to pronounce it wrong on fucking purpose.
“How about ranch on pizza?” Joseph hummed. Their drinks arrived, and he lifted his straw out of the glass, glancing innocently over the cup while he let the straw hover just at the surface of the water—this way, it made a loud, obnoxious slurping noise as he drank.
“What did you just say?” Caesar asked, trying to shove his irritation to the back of his mind.
“Ranch. On pizza.”
“The dressing for salads, ranch?”
“Yeah,” Joseph said, lacing his fingers together and setting his elbows on the table so he could rest his head on his hands. “Ranch dressing on pizza.”
“What?! That’s disgusting!” Caesar said in disbelief, sticking his tongue out to prove just how fucking grossed out he was.
“Yeah! They dip the crust in it, sometimes they even dip the entire pizza into it!”
“...Why?” Caesar had officially lost all his faith in humanity.
“I dunno, Smokey tried it once.”
“...What’d he say about it?” Caesar was a bit invested in ranch pizza now—not that he’d ever try it. That was a line that should never, ever be crossed.
“Eh...I dunno. Didn’t really pay attention,” Joseph grinned.
And the conversation fell flat. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, at least; Joseph was peacefully staring out the window, which was pretty rare for the bumbling dunce.
It was nice to go on a date, which was...surprising, to say the least. Caesar had always thought of him as a stuck-up, insufferable imbecile, but he could really be charming, if he tried. He found himself excited to speak with him every day, and it was nice—he’d never really felt that way about anyone. When Joseph bet to go on a date during a poker game, he even realized he was hoping to lose. Joseph was obviously cheating, as always (Caesar thought it was stupid that he kept doing it, since Caesar always called him out for it), but he let it slide. He hoped Joseph didn’t notice how this was the one and only time Caesar hadn’t caught him cheating.
“...Your bowtie.” Joseph said suddenly, pointing towards his bowtie. Caesar almost jumped from Joseph unexpectedly speaking up, but caught himself before he did.
“Hm?” Caesar peered down at his bowtie.
“It’s so small.”
“What do you mean...?”
“Y’know, compared to you. It’s a tiny bowtie!”
Caesar rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
The waitress brought the food out, and it really didn’t look all too bad. But that didn’t mean anything, Caesar insisted to himself—for all he could know, it could be like…fairy bread, or something. It looks appetizing until you eat it. Caesar looked over to Joseph, who had already taken a huge bite out of a slice. Joseph looked back at him expectantly, looking at him and at the pizza.
“Try one,” Joseph said with his mouth full. Caesar immediately scolded him for it, saying it was almost more disgusting than this food looked, and Joseph just opened his mouth to show him the half-chewed pizza in his mouth. “Eat it.”
“Only if you promise not to do that ever again,” Caesar shuddered.
“Fine.” Joseph smiled mischievously, and something about it told Caesar that said promise was going to be broken within the next twenty four hours.
Caesar carefully picked up a slice from the plate, bringing it to his mouth. Tasting it would be shameful, but...Joseph looked so excited. He was looking at him with wide-eyes and this big, stupid smile of anticipation...so he took a bite. Chewed slowly, let his tongue process the flavor, and swallowed.
He blinked a few times.
“So?” Joseph asked excitedly.
“It’s terrible,” Caesar lied, taking big gulps of his water and scrunching up his nose to support his claim.
“It’s only terrible because you’re expecting it to be! Take another bite, with the outlook of an optimist,” Joseph insisted.
“That’s stupid,” Caesar said, but he took another bite.
God, it was...
It was...
Fuck, it was good. Really good.
Not a single soul could know he was enjoying pineapple on pizza, of all things. This was between him and God, and absolutely no one else’s business.
“Sooo?”
“Awful. A disgrace to all Italian food. You know, this restaurant isn’t even authentic.”
“How would you know?”
“It sells pineapple pizza,” Caesar said distastefully. “No authentic Italian restaurant would do that.”
“Ugh, you’re so dumb sometimes, Caesar,” Joseph sighed.
“Says you,” Caesar grumbled. He lifted the slice back to his mouth, taking a very, very slow bite to display just how scared he was of eating more.
Joseph was on his fourth slice. What the fuck.
“You like it, don’t you?”
“No,” Caesar said instantly.
“Oh. Welp.” Joseph shrugged, chewing with his mouth open again.
“You said you’d stop!”
“That was when I thought you’d like the pizza.”
“I’m already suffering, Joseph, why are you like this?”
“I dunno, just blessed, I guess.”
“Ugh.” Caesar finished his slice and cleared his throat loudly. “It’d be a waste if we didn’t finish this huge pizza you got. This is all your fault, Joseph.” He reached for another slice, hoping to god he didn’t have any tell for lying he didn’t know about. (He doubted it, since he’d never gotten caught in a lie, but who knows?! Maybe god was making him into his pinata again!!)
“So it’s good enough to eat without vomiting?”
“Shut up,” Caesar snapped, making a big show of an utterly disgusted expression. “It’s still awful.”
“Suuure, whatever you say, Caesaroni. Oh my god, Caesaroni. Because you only like pepperoni and cheese pizza, like a bitch.”
“If you ever call me that again, I’ll beat you up.”
“I dare you to try. I could beat you in a fight any day!” Joseph boasted, flexing his arms.
“At least I don’t need to flex my muscles to feel like a man,” Caesar teased.
“That’s because you don’t feel manly, and you know you can’t, because my muscles will always be bigger than yours.”
“Hasn’t anybody ever taught you not to tell blatant lies, Joseph?” Caesar questioned. Joseph gasped dramatically, waving the waitress over.
“Miss! Can I ask a favor of you?” Joseph asked.
“Yeah, of course. What can I help you with?” She smiled courteously.
“Tell us which one of our muscles is bigger,” Joseph said, flexing his arm again. “Come on, Caesar. Flex.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Only because you dragged this poor girl into this,” Caesar groaned, flexing his arm.
“U-Uh...they...look about the same, to me.” She laughed nervously. “I should really get back to work, but let me know if you need anything else for your meal!”
“Thank you, and I sincerely apologize for my dolt of a friend,” Caesar flashed a warm smile to hopefully calm her very obvious nerves.
“Of course! I hope you’re enjoying your food.” She bowed slightly and scurried off.
“I can’t believe you called me your dolt of a friend. I’m your dolt of a boyfriend, Caesar.”
“B-Boyfriend?”
“Yeah, we’re on a date! Duh!”
“Oh. Oh.”
“What, you didn’t know?”
“You just fl—” Caesar caught himself before he got into any real arguments with Joseph while they were still in public. He had some dignity left. “Whatever.”
The rest of the date went by with minimal disaster, at least.
Caesar pushed the door open and held it out for Joseph, who ducked out and started to lead the way back. Once they were a good enough distance from the restaurant, Caesar finally said what he’d wanted to the entire time.
“I’m your boyfriend?”
“Yeah!”
“So you just flirt with waitresses in front of your boyfriend?!”
“...What?”
“Who even does that? Seriously!”
“I’m sorry, Caesar, I honestly didn’t think it’d bother you. I’ve flirted with Suzi Q in front of you, and numerous other girls, and you’ve only ever rolled your eyes. And you roll your eyes about everything, so it’s not really a sign that you’re upset anymore,” Joseph said seriously.
“We weren’t dating then! Of course I didn’t act bothered, I had no right to!”
“Oh...yikes.”
“Yikes?! That’s the best you’ve got?”
“I’m truly sorry. I won’t do it again, now that I know it bothers you. And...I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy our date. I really thought you’d like the pizza. But hey, at least you get to choose our next date, right?” Joseph smiled, but he seemed genuinely upset. Caesar suddenly felt really fucking horrible. “If you want to go on a second date, that is.”
“Okay...maybe...” Caesar was going to Hell for admitting this. “Maybe I liked it. A little.”
Joseph broke out in a huge smile, jumping up excitedly.
“I knew you would!! I’m so glad! Ooh, you’re paying for the next date, whether you like it or not!” Joseph pumped his fist into the air, and, in his excitement, kissed Caesar on the cheek. Caesar grabbed his collar to yank him back in, and their lips met. Caesar turned eighty-three thousand five hundred sixty-two shades of red and Joseph just grinned like a huge idiot. “So you agree? It’s like dessert on pizza, right?!”
“Oh, get over yourself, it’s not that good.”
“Dude. We’re trying ranch pizza for the next date.”
“I’m gonna shove you off a building and frame Suzi Q.”
“Oh...uh...maybe we’ll just go see a movie then.” Good, Joseph fears him. He should.
“Good choice.”