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Tooru was on his usual morning jog, engrossed in the latest pop hit (don’t judge, it’s catchy) and feeling the burn in his lungs, when he was hit with the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked pastries.
The next thing he was hit with was a door, glass and heavy.
“Shit, are you okay?”
Tooru blinked, the cloudy sky of the still-early morning swimming in his view, along with the face of a man about his age. Tooru’s first thought was that he was cute, with wisps of black hair protruding out from beneath a black cap.
“Hello? How many fingers am I holding up?”
Tooru groaned and sat up from the ground, clutching his forehead with his hand.
The man was kneeling in front of him on the sidewalk, wearing a black apron and making a victory gesture with his hand. Odd, thought Tooru, still trying to focus his thoughts as his head pounded.
“Shit,” the funny man muttered. “Just my luck. ‘Course something like this would happen the first day.”
Tooru caught another whiff of the scent of baked goods, and he inhaled deeply. “That smells amazing,” he sighed. The throbbing in his head subsided a bit as he focused instead on the hunger in his belly.
His comment seemed to amuse the man in front of him. “Thanks,” he said.
Why are you thanking me? Tooru wanted to ask, but he was being hoisted up by his arm now. The mysterious and handsome man was able to lift Tooru up quite easily, even though they were practically the same height.
“Here, why don’t you rest for a bit inside. I’ll get you something.”
Tooru was deposited into a chair in a quaint little shop entirely filled with the heavenly aroma that had distracted him in the first place. Before he knew it, the man had returned with a cup of tea and a charming little gold-trimmed plate stacked with assorted pastries.
“On the house,” he stated as he arranged the food on the table in front of Tooru. His eyes scanned over Tooru’s body, and Tooru felt his cheeks prickling a bit at the once-over.
“You don’t look like you’re bleeding or anything. How’s your head?”
Tooru took a sip of his scalding tea, trying to focus on how his body physically felt instead of how his heart felt about this very good-looking man who was giving him tea and pastries.
“Feels fine, I think. Just some bruises,” he said after a long beat.
The man exhaled. “Well, that’s a relief. I was worried I would need to call an ambulance or something.”
“Why?”
“I mean, I knocked you pretty hard with the door. You look kind of dazed still.”
Yeah, by you, Tooru wanted to respond, but thought better of it. Instead, he took a large bite of a pastry. Sweet and tart strawberry filling burst across his tongue, encased in layers of delicate, buttery crust. He must have made some noise of appreciation unconsciously, because the man in front of him started to laugh.
“That good?”
Tooru nodded, not daring to speak, lest he lose some of the delicious mouthful.
When he finished swallowing everything down, the man had seated himself in the chair across from him and set down his cap. He was even cuter with his hair slightly mussed, strands springing in every direction as if celebrating their freedom from the hat.
“Thank you,” Tooru began. His eyes flicked to the man’s shirt, hoping to find a nametag of some sort, but he just got an eyeful of muscles rippling underneath the form-hugging material. Not that he minded.
The man seemed to understand regardless. “I’m Miya Osamu. I own Patisserie Miya.” He smiled proudly as he tucked his cap back on, a gold embroidered character shining on the front. The same character was emblazoned on the plate, and Tooru now recognized it as his name.
“Thank you then, Miya-kun. The pastries are really yummy.” He took another large bite to emphasize his point.
Miya Osamu chuckled again, a soft laugh that made Tooru’s stomach do flip flops. “‘M glad you like them. It’s our first day, you see.”
Tooru glanced around the shop, currently devoid of customers. “I’ll be sure to come back,” he said immediately. And he meant it too; not only were the pastries delicious… but also the owner.
Maybe he was staring a bit too much, because Osamu’s cheeks gained a hint of red too. “I’d appreciate that.” The pastry chef stood up hastily as a new customer peered into the doorway. “Stay as long as you’d like…”
“Oikawa Tooru,” he filled in, shooting Osamu a grin.
Osamu blinked at him, looking a little dazed himself, before a cough from the customer had him running off to assist. Tooru chuckled to himself, feeling much better after the tea and pastries. His head was no longer throbbing, and his hands and elbows were a little scratched up, but otherwise no worse for the wear.
He watched Osamu settle the older woman at another table, answering her questions about the cafe with assumed professionalism. The lady quickly moved on to chatting about her single granddaughter, and Osamu was forced to politely answer her completely unsubtle inquiries about his relationship status—single, thankfully. Tooru had to stifle another laugh. Osamu shot him a wry smile that clearly read I’m used to it as he escorted the woman towards the glass display cases packed with mouth-watering pastries. Tooru watched as the lady picked up a tray and tongs, suitably distracted by the pastries to interrogate Osamu further.
As much as he enjoyed people watching (especially when it was a certain handsome pastry chef), Tooru regretfully had to leave shortly after. A shower and the rest of his Saturday, stacked with appointments with friends, were calling for him. He headed out with a wave and was pleased to get a tip of Osamu’s cap in acknowledgement.
He’d definitely be back.
Osamu tried not to look too flustered as the handsome man known as Oikawa Tooru exited his cafe with a fluttering wave of his fingers. Leave it to Osamu to meet a cute guy by smashing him in the face with a door.
Still, Oikawa was awfully nice about the whole thing, and he seemed to enjoy the pastries, so maybe not all hope was lost.
When the doors finally shut for the day and his staff had gone home, Osamu slumped over his kitchen counter to finally catch his breath. The rest of his opening day passed by (mercifully) without incident. A modest number of patrons stopped by, and Osamu was getting used to officially being the owner of a pastry shop.
He stretched and then straightened his cap for the long evening ahead. He had recipes to tweak, a few new fillings to test, and then he had to go home, sleep, and come back early in the morning to prepare for tomorrow’s long day. His stomach growled loudly, and Osamu winced. And he should eat dinner.
The next day, Osamu was careful to peek out the door first before swinging it open. No Oikawa dressed in blue running shorts today. He felt a small pang of disappointment as he turned to head back inside, and he chided himself for it. Falling so fast for a stranger was unlike him—not to mention one he had injured.
He didn’t have much time to stew; a group of ladies entered the shop, and soon the busy day began in earnest.
It was nearing 3pm, and Osamu was just settling down into a seat for a quick lunch break when he heard a cheerful “Yoohoo, Miya-kun!”
Osamu’s eyes flicked up to the doorway where Oikawa stood waving, his tall form tucked in a flattering tan coat. His hair was properly styled today, and he stepped into the cafe with the confidence of someone who knew he could charm the room. It was warranted, Osamu would give him that. The smattering of cafe patrons all ogled him as he sauntered over to Osamu’s table.
“Oikawa-kun,” Osamu made to rise from his table, but Oikawa waved for him to stay seated.
“No worries, Miya-kun, I can be a normal patron today and serve myself.” Oikawa gave him a toothy smile, and Osamu ducked his eyes under the safety of his cap. God, his cheeks were already burning. Did he have to be such a flustered mess?
“You’re free to join me, I’m on lunch break.”
Oikawa beamed at him and bounced over to the walls of pastries, picking up a little tray and tongs. Osamu watched as he oohed and ahhed over the day’s selection, tapping his tongs together as he perused.
Pastries chosen, Oikawa floated over to the registers, where he managed to crack a joke that had the cashier giggling into her hand as she handled the transaction. He winked at the cashier as he got his change, and finally he turned back, making his way straight towards where Osamu was still sitting, lunch forgotten.
“Miya-kun hired such nice staff,” Oikawa chirped as he sat down, setting down his assortment of plated pastries and shoving his now-empty tray to the side. “How’s business going so far?”
“It’s going fine. We’re getting a good amount of foot traffic, so I’m hopeful.”
Oikawa nodded, his cheeks bulging with pastry.
Osamu felt his lips tug into a smile. “Which one’s your favorite so far?”
Oikawa swallowed, his lips forming a small pout. “Hmmm.” His brows knit together as he considered the question. “That’s a hard one, Miya-kun. I like all of them. If I had to pick, maybe the custard-filled doughnuts?” He pointed down at the little plate stacked with the golden-brown circles of fried dough.
Osamu laughed at the quantity. He supposed he could have guessed from that. “That’s an interesting choice. Most people go for the fancier-looking desserts, like the fruit tarts.”
“Is it? I guess my friends make fun of me for liking milk bread so much, too. I think I just have better taste than all of them.”
“Milk bread…” That was a snack Osamu hadn’t considered in a while. He licked his lips as he recalled childhood trips to the conbini, and his parents treating him and Atsumu to the fluffy bites of bread with sweet cream sandwiched between. “I rather like those too.”
“See, I knew it. I’m going to brag to all my friends that an actual pastry chef agrees with me too.”
Conversation with Oikawa flowed easily, though admittedly Oikawa was doing most of the talking. Osamu was happy to get a break from the stress of opening and running his business. His lunch break flew by, and when it was time for him to get back to work, he rose up from his seat with great reluctance.
“Sorry for taking up your whole lunch break, Miya-kun.”
“Not at all, I’m glad you came back. And please, call me Osamu.”
“Only if you call me Tooru then, Osamu-kun.”
Osamu had to smile. “See you next time, Tooru-kun.”
Was it too suspicious to stop by the cafe three days in a row?
Tooru hesitated as he jogged, wondering if he should take the route towards Osamu’s shop this morning. He’d avoided it yesterday, and yet he couldn’t help himself from stopping by in the afternoon anyway. This was getting a bit ridiculous though. Yes, he craved the pastries, but this couldn’t be good for his health. Staring at the tall drink of water named Miya Osamu also didn’t help his heart, given how quickly it pounded when the pastry chef so much as glanced in his direction.
Don’t be ridiculous, Tooru. He’s single, and you’re allowed to flirt with a cute, single guy. Right?
Gritting his teeth, Tooru resolved to jog by Patisserie Miya. As his steps pounded closer though, he frowned.
Closed?
He checked the hours neatly printed on the door sign. Ah. They’re closed on Mondays.
Tooru wrinkled his nose at the sign, as if this were all the little slab of wood’s fault. With a sigh, he popped his earbuds back in and jogged off, feeling a bit embarrassed by how much he had fretted over what came to be nothing.
“Miya-san, that customer of yours was at the door a moment ago.”
Osamu looked up from where he was mixing his new experimental dough. “Who?”
His assistant rolled her eyes from the kitchen doorway. “You know who, that handsome fella who took up your whole lunch break. You sure he isn’t your boyfriend?”
Osamu flushed. He dusted his hands off on his apron before fast-walking towards the shop entrance.
“He ran off already though.”
Swearing as he threw open the door, Osamu could just barely make out the receding form of Tooru in the distance. He had half a mind to run after him, but that’d probably make him seem too desperate. Plus, what was he thinking? He had recipes to try, and he really needed to get a move on if he wanted to go home at a reasonable hour.
With resignation, he tugged the door shut again, not missing the knowing look his assistant gave him. “Oh, get back to work,” he huffed, though not unkindly.
“I’ll let you know if he comes back,” she said with a wink.
“Iwa-chaaan. It’s raining.”
Hajime looked up from his morning coffee to the sight of his best friend pouting like a five-year-old as he peered out the window.
“So? What do you want me to do about it, Shittykawa.” He sighed after his next sip of coffee, feeling the warm steam tickle his throat. It was far too early for this conversation.
“You don’t understand! How am I supposed to go running now?”
“Don’t you just work out at the gym when it rains? Why can’t you just do that?”
“Well, you see… there’s this cafe I want to go to…”
Hajime pinched his nose. Yup, far too early for this conversation.
“Oikawa, you’re not making any sense. You want to go running, and you want to go to a cafe?”
“Exactly!” Oikawa clapped his hands together, as if thrilled Hajime had caught on. He definitely hadn’t. Oikawa frowned again in thought. “I don’t have any rainproof gear though, and the water will ruin my hair.”
“Then go another day, Shittykawa. What’s so special about this cafe?”
“But they were closed yesterday, and I really want some more of those pastries—”
“Wait, you’ve been there already?” Hajime lifted an eyebrow. “Is this where you disappeared off to on Sunday?”
Oikawa’s deer-in-the-headlights look provided all the answers he needed.
“You want to go there again? It’s only Tuesday!”
“You don’t understand, Iwa-chan. The pastries are really good, and—” Oikawa stopped mid-sentence, snapping his jaw shut with an audible clack of his teeth.
Hajime set down his coffee, finally turning his full attention to his rapidly reddening friend. “And?” He folded his arms over his chest, staring Oikawa down.
Oikawa averted his eyes and mumbled something to the floor.
“Speak up, Shittykawa.”
“And the owner is really cute.”
“Ah, so this is about a guy.” Seriously, his friend was completely hopeless.
Oikawa hummed. He whirled around suddenly, a huge grin on his face. “Iwa-chan…”
Hajime gave Oikawa a pointed look. “Whatever you want, you definitely owe me at least dinner.”
“Can I borrow your jacket? The one with the hood? Pleeease.”
“Just wash it after you’re done mooning after your crush,” Hajime sighed.
He got pulled into a hug moments later. “You’re the best, Iwa-chan.”
Hajime wearily returned to his now-cold coffee as the door to their apartment slammed shut. Oikawa better at least treat him to a replacement.
Osamu was most certainly not looking at the door. Nope, definitely not, especially because it was raining outside, and he most certainly wasn’t still hoping a certain someone would come in, even though it made no sense to run outside in such a heavy downpour.
“Miya-san, we should really prep another batch of the almond croissants, they’re going fast today.”
A low rumble of thunder sounded as Osamu hurried to pour a large bag of flour into the industrial mixer. He had expected foot traffic to be low on such a rainy day, but apparently people rather enjoyed coming in for warm tea and pastries while the skies poured buckets. It also appeared word was getting out about Patisserie Miya, because he was even busier than the weekend. Most of the tables in the cafe were occupied despite the early hour, and many of his patrons were tapping away on their laptops and enjoying the free wifi.
A job well done, he supposed, though he didn’t have much time to congratulate himself. He caught himself thinking about Tooru again, and he swore under his breath. He needed sugar next, where was the sugar?
“Miya-san!” His assistant called from behind him. “I can take care of the croissant dough.” When Osamu shot her a puzzled look, she winked while tying her hair up for the work. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Osamu nearly dropped the sugar before his assistant could get a hold on the bag.
“You’re welcome,” she called, voice full of mirth as he hurried out of the kitchen.
“Osamu-kun!” Tooru’s cheerful voice rang from the doorway.
“You look pretty wet, Tooru-kun.” Osamu eyed him as he threw back his (green, surprisingly) jacket hood to shake his hair free of water droplets. “Did you run here?”
“Yeah,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”
Osamu frowned. “I’ll get you some tea.”
“That would be lovely, thank you, Osamu-kun.” Tooru flashed another brilliant smile at him.
Tooru turned to head towards the pastries, but Osamu called out before he could help himself. He reached behind his back, his fingers finding the knot of his apron and quickly pulled one of the dangling strings to undo the bow fastening it in place. “Here,” he said, offering the apron, lightly folded, out to Tooru. “To dry off.”
Tooru’s eyes went wide. “Won’t you need it?”
“Got more in the back,” he shrugged.
Tooru clutched the apron to his face for a moment and then lowered it again, dabbing at his hands and pants. “Thanks, I’ll wash it at home and bring it back.”
“You can keep it. Consider it a souvenir for my first customer.”
Tooru opened his mouth as if to protest, but Osamu’s pointed look must have done the trick. Tooru hummed instead, before trying again. “Thank you, Osamu-kun. That’s sweet of you.”
Osamu could feel his ears start to burn. They’ve been standing in the entry way for perhaps a bit too long now.
Tooru seemed to realize the same. He straightened, and his voice was light and cheerful with his next words. “Well, I won’t keep you. I’ll take a look at the pastries of the day.”
“I’ll get you that tea too.”
They both hurried off in opposite directions. Osamu headed back behind the counter, feeling grateful for the chance to cool off his head and allow his heart rate to steady. His hand trembled as he picked up the teapot and reached for some tea. What would Tooru like? He’s probably feeling a bit cold. Osamu reached for the ginger tea preparation, scooping in a generous amount of honey as well. Tooru also seemed like the type to enjoy his drinks very sweet.
His hands shook less as he brought a tray over to where Tooru was now settled, beaming down at his table with plates of various pastries.
“Osamu-kun, you’ve really outdone yourself today. These all look amazing!”
“Glad you think so.” Osamu gently set the tray down on the table, clearing a small space to place the teapot and teacup for Tooru. “Some ginger tea.”
Osamu waited as Tooru took a sip.
“Is it alright?”
Tooru stared down at the cup in surprise. “How’d you know I like my tea super sweet?”
Osamu shrugged. “Lucky guess,” he grinned, nodding at the stacks of pastries in front of Tooru.
Tooru gave him a small smile in return. Osamu thought he could make out the barest of blushes on his cheeks, but maybe that was just his wishful thinking again.
“I should get back to work.” Osamu rubbed the back of his neck, trying to erase some of the heat he felt there. “Hope you enjoy the pastries.”
“I’m sure I will!”
Osamu retreated to the kitchen again, letting out a sigh of relief as he stepped out of view of the main dining area.
“Miya-san, why are you back so soon?”
His assistant was frowning at him, her hands tucked at either side of her waist.
“Well, it’s busy, and we need to get more of the pastries going…”
She just shook her head, returning to gathering ingredients for the next batch of dough on the endless list. “You’re hopeless, Miya-san. He’s cute, go get him.”
Ah-choo!
Tooru blew his nose into probably the hundredth tissue of the day. His nose felt like someone had sandpapered it, and it stung as he drew the tissue away from his face.
Just his luck.
Iwa-chan had gone in for work, but not before scolding him for being an idiot, and then handing him a steaming mug of tea and some fever reduction medicine.
Tooru was left to wrap himself in a blanket and call in sick.
After he hung up the phone (barely ending the call before another sneezing fit overtook him), he was slumped back on the couch and flicked on the TV. He sighed. With nothing to do except to get better, he curled up for a nap, dreaming of strawberry filling, flaky crusts, and a certain handsome pastry chef.
“Do you think I did something?”
Atsumu looked up to where his brother was pacing the kitchen, not even pretending to clean up anymore.
“I mean, do you think I did something to scare him off?”
“What, your favorite customer?” Atsumu rolled his eyes. Here we go again.
“He didn’t show up today either. What did I do?”
“‘Samu, you know it’s not normal for someone to come in and eat your pastries every day, right?”
“Yeah, but he did at first!”
“And I’m sure he’ll be back. I don’t know, maybe he stepped on the scale and realized he needed to cut back—” The remark earned him a back-handed smack from Osamu. “Oi!”
“Are you going to help clean up, or not?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m doing about as much as you, right now.”
The twins finally got to work scrubbing the countertops. Even though he complained about being put to work every time he visited, Atsumu was proud of his twin for achieving his dream—and amused that somehow, he had managed to develop a crush on a customer the very first day.
“Say, ‘Tsumu. What do you think of milk bread?”
Atsumu paused with his hand still on a bag of flour. “Milk bread? It’s nice I guess. Haven’t had any in a while.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
Atsumu watched as Osamu tapped the side of his face thoughtfully. He knew that expression. He folded his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow at his twin.
“Could I get a favor?” Osamu looked at him hopefully.
“You mean, more than helping you clean up your dirty kitchen?”
Osamu, to his credit, ignored the dig at his actually quite well-kept kitchen. “I can take care of the rest of the clean-up. Can you run to the store and buy every kind of milk bread you can find?”
Atsumu sighed. “You owe me dinner then.”
“I already give you free pastries every time you come!”
Atsumu just kept staring at him.
“Oh fine, I’ll treat you to some sushi.”
Atsumu grinned as he headed out the double doors.
Tooru was still feeling a bit weak as he pulled open the doors to Miya Patisserie a few days later. He grunted with the effort. To his dismay, his nose was still too stuffed to fully appreciate the aromatic scent of buttery crust. The best he could do was sniffle and pout as he walked inside, tugging his scarf a little closer to his body.
“You don’t look so hot, Tooru-kun.”
Interrupted from wiping his shoes on the welcome mat, Tooru blinked to find Osamu striding over to him.
“Osamu-kun.” Tooru’s voice sounded hoarse as it came out his still scratchy throat. “Is that any way to greet your favorite customer?” He tried to tease, but his lack of energy made the joke fall a bit flat.
“Thought you’d gone and died on me.”
“Just caught a cold, is all.”
Osamu hummed. “Shouldn’t have run in the rain then.”
Tooru made a squawking sort of laugh. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll just have some tea. I don’t think I can taste much else, to be honest.”
The pastry chef nodded and waved him over to a seat, which Tooru gratefully collapsed into. He was still shivering a bit when Osamu came back with a tea set and…
“Is that milk bread?”
“It’s an attempt at some, yeah.” Osamu gave him a little smile, and Tooru felt his heart stutter in his chest. “Try it, let me know what you think.”
Tooru was feeling thoroughly miserable that his sense of smell was so blocked at the moment. He took a large bite and chewed thoughtfully. Osamu was making him a bit self-conscious with the way he was staring. For once, Tooru didn’t quite know how to handle the attention. He swallowed.
“The bread is nice and fluffy. The cream might be a little too rich.” Tooru smiled apologetically. “I’m still a bit sick though, so I’m not the most qualified to give an opinion at the moment.”
Osamu took off his cap to scratch at his head. “I thought that might be the case.” He frowned, and Tooru fretted for a moment if he was too honest with his feedback.
“It’s still really nice—”
“Do you want to stop by on Monday?”
Tooru furrowed his brows, not sure if he heard right. “Aren’t you closed on Mondays?”
“We’re closed to the public, yes. I use that day to test out recipes.”
Tooru’s eyes widened as he understood. “You want me to try out recipes with you?”
Osamu nodded. “You seem to know your milk bread, and I thought it’d be a good chance to…” He trailed off, mouth still open.
For once, Tooru felt like he was on the same page. “It’d be nice to get to know you better, too, Osamu-kun.” He smiled what he hoped was one of his flirtatious smiles. He was still feeling a bit weak, though now he wasn’t sure if it was his slow recovery or the expression of delight that bloomed across Osamu’s face. “Plus, I would never turn down a chance to eat more of your pastries.”
“It’s a date then. Are you free to stop by sometime in the evening?”
Tooru’s stomach did a somersault at the word “date.” He felt ridiculously giddy. “Looking forward to it, Osamu-kun,” he sing-songed, voice still coming out a bit raspy.
Osamu gave him a short nod and another of those cute little smiles. He turned to head back to the kitchen to work, and Tooru continued to nibble on his milk bread, trying to make it last as long as possible. Date, date, date. Osamu probably didn’t mean it super seriously, but Tooru’s imagination was running wild already, daydreaming like a schoolgirl and bringing a prickle to his cheeks.
Monday felt like an eternity away. Tooru sighed. Hopefully he was at least fully recovered by then.
“Is everything ready?”
“Yup, shoved the last loaf into the oven a few minutes ago, Miya-san.”
Osamu looked up from his frantic cleaning to his assistant smirking at him and tapping her foot.
“Why are you so interested in milk bread all of a sudden, anyway? Not your usual French pastry fare.”
Osamu felt his cheeks color. “No real reason…”
His assistant scoffed. “Yeah, sure, nothing to do with your absolute favorite customer.” She neatly folded up the rag she had been using and set it down behind her. “Anyway, it’s time I get going. I’ll give you two some privacy.” She winked at him before strolling out the double-doors of the kitchen.
Osamu sighed. He liked his assistant; she was capable and wasn’t afraid to give her feedback on what should be done. She was also unnervingly perceptive and made Osamu feel like he was going through an x-ray every time she gave him a once-over. Though, perhaps he’s just not as subtle as he thinks.
Never mind that. It was evening time, and the five different milk breads he had been baking for sampling were nearly ready. All that was missing was Tooru.
He glanced again at the time. It was nearly five pm. Did that count as evening time? Would Tooru be striding in at any moment now?
A ding from the timer yanked Osamu from his fretting, and he hurried to pull out the loaves of bread from the oven. A few minutes later, each of the loaves had been neatly halved, ready for Osamu to pipe in the cream he had prepared — also with several variations to the recipe. In all, he had fifteen different samples to try. He hoped Tooru was hungry.
As if on cue, there was a loud rapping at the door right as Osamu finished plating the last sample. Tooru really did have a knack for timing. Thankfully this time he didn’t end up with a door in his face.
Osamu dusted his hands as best as he could, mussed with his hair (and quickly decided it was a lost cause), and hurried to the door as he squashed his cap back onto his head.
“Tooru-kun! Glad you could make it.”
“Like I could pass up a chance for more milk bread. Especially if Osamu-kun is making it!”
Tooru looked elegant all bundled up in his coat and bright blue scarf. He stepped inside with a small shiver, and Osamu quickly shut the door behind him.
“It’s warmer inside the kitchen, follow me.”
Tooru gave a little gasp of delight. “I get to see the kitchen?” He trailed behind Osamu, looking every bit like a kid in a candy shop.
Osamu couldn’t hold back a chuckle. It was endearing to see Tooru so eager to see the kitchen, especially since Osamu was so proud of it. He held open the swinging doors so that Tooru could walk in and take in the full sight all at once—the polished marble counters with gleaming appliances lining the walls, the enormous and neatly organized pantry in the back, each ingredient carefully labeled.
“It’s beautiful.” Tooru turned to him with a small pout. “Is it weird to call an industrial kitchen beautiful?”
“Nah, I think it’s beautiful too.” Osamu beamed, and Tooru’s face relaxed into a sweet little smile.
Tooru’s eyebrows lifted as he registered what was sitting on the counters. All fifteen plates. “Is all of that for me to try?”
“Yup,” Osamu folded his arms across his chest. “Although, if you get full, we can stop at any time.”
“Are you challenging me, Osamu-kun?” Tooru smirked. “Bring it on.”
How did Tooru manage to look so good with that arrogant grin on his face? Osamu’s heart beat exponentially faster. “One more thing, Tooru-kun,” Osamu managed to say. He reached into his apron pocket and extracted a strip of fabric. “Gotta make this a blind taste test.”
“Didn’t realize you were kinky too, Osamu-kun,” Tooru teased, but he closed his eyes and allowed Osamu to knot the blindfold around him.
It would be all too easy to just kiss the man now, and Osamu would be lying if he said he didn’t contemplate doing so for at least a second. A tiny little sigh escaped from him as he turned towards the rows of plates. He wouldn’t take advantage of Tooru like that though.
“Plate one,” he said, placing the dish in front of Tooru.
“Osamu-kun, I can’t see.”
“That’s the point.”
“I can’t see, so feed me, Osamu-kun.”
Osamu could hear the accompanying eyeroll, even though the blindfold masked it. He was prepared to taunt back that Tooru could feed himself, thanks; he still had working hands, after all. Then he understood Tooru’s intentions, and his heart nearly stopped functioning entirely.
His hands as well. He shakily broke off a part of the bread, ensuring some of the cream was still sandwiched inside. “Open up then.” He gently tapped it to Tooru’s still taunting mouth, and watched as those lips opened and allowed him to pop the bread inside. The corners of Tooru’s mouth pulled up, and he hummed in clear delight as the taste of the bread tickled his tongue.
“This is good, Osamu-kun. I’m glad I can taste it properly this time.”
Feeling his words fail him, Osamu cleared his throat and reached for the clipboard he had prepared. “So…” he said, tapping his pen against his notes. “How’s the texture of the bread?”
Tooru obliged him, speaking in detail about how the bread was fluffy and light, although perhaps it was a little dry. Osamu was surprised, but pleasantly so. He wasn’t expecting such thorough feedback, though it was exactly what he needed to finetune the recipe.
They moved on to the rest of the plates. Osamu continued to break off small bites and delicately place them into Tooru’s mouth. He almost touched the man’s lips several times, and he felt his heart race each time they almost connected. He was pretty sure he was permanently red at this point, and he thanked his lucky stars that Tooru couldn’t see how completely frazzled he must look.
The minutes ticked on, the silence in the kitchen broken by Tooru’s comments and the scratching of Osamu’s pen on paper. Maybe he should have put some soft music on, Osamu thought idly. Then again, it was nice to just enjoy the sound of Tooru’s voice. Especially since it was full of praise for Osamu’s baked goods.
He wondered if Tooru was getting bored. Or full. But he seemed upbeat, energetically praising plate ten as the best one yet. “Just the right sweetness on the cream, Osamu-kun.”
Once he had notes on the final plate, Osamu set his clipboard down as well. “That was the last of them. Did you have a favorite?”
“Hmm, the one where I said I liked the cream, with the denser bread. I think that was eleven?”
Osamu glanced down at his notes. “Twelve, I think.” He quickly scribbled a little star next to the number.
Tooru laughed. “There were so many. Do you always take your recipes so seriously?”
“Every single one,” Osamu said. He hoped his pride came through in his tone.
“No wonder Osamu-kun’s pastries are the best.”
Osamu looked back at Tooru and was startled to meet his gaze. Tooru had shoved the blindfold up so that he could see again, the black fabric giving his hair a ruffled look. It was completely unfair, Osamu mused, that the guy managed to look this good no matter how he was dressed.
“Osamu-kun,” Tooru’s eyes flicked over to the plates. “Have you been trying them too? Doesn’t look like you’ve been taking any bites.”
“No, I’ve just been taking notes. I’ll try some a bit later.” Truthfully, he’d been too flustered by Tooru to remember to taste any himself.
Tooru gave him a mischievous grin. He leaned closer to Osamu, close enough that Osamu could admire the long eyelashes on Tooru’s half-lidded eyes. Osamu stopped breathing. A finger with cream dabbed on the end approached Osamu’s lips and smeared the cream all over his mouth. “Oops,” Tooru said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Let me help with that.”
Osamu’s mind wasn’t quite keeping up with what was happening. He half-expected Tooru to find a wet towel to wipe the cream off of his mouth. But Tooru’s solution was far better. Soft lips covered his own, a kiss that started off light and sweet, much like the cream that Osamu finally got a chance to taste. A swipe of a tongue across his lips had Osamu moaning before he could stop himself, and soon he learned much more about how Tooru tasted too.
They broke away after several minutes (or was it hours?), both gasping for air. Their mouths were sticky, but they were both smiling and flushed.
“Tooru-kun, are you still hungry?”
Tooru laughed. “Hungry for what, Osamu-kun?” He waggled his eyebrows, and Osamu’s stomach did a flip.
“I was going to say dinner,” Osamu mumbled.
Tooru pressed against him again with another soft laugh, turning Osamu to putty. “I have a better idea.”