Work Text:
When the hands of the clock cross past ten in the evening, the door of an Italian restaurant swings open softly, bringing fresh evening air with it. Going inside, Cherry hears soft singing, coming from somewhere in the kitchen. He smiles involuntarily.
"Sorry, we're already closed!"
The restaurant owner looks up, and his glare instantly changes to annoyance.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to eat." Cherry answers calmly, sitting down at the counter.
"I said that we are closed."
"But the door was open." He grins.
Joe sighs heavily, rolls his eyes and points at the room behind him.
"The kitchen is all yours, do whatever you want."
Cherry raises one eyebrow at him in disbelief.
"And you're gonna let me into your kitchen? Just like that?"
Joe snorts loudly as he puts on his apron. "Of course not."
"Don't forget to make a bun, I don't want to eat chicken with seasoning from your hair."
"Oh, so you prefer other parts of my body?"
Joe throws the second apron with all his might at Cherry's face. It seems to him that he almost heard a low laugh. It seems to him that his ears are almost red.
"The chicken is in the fridge, cut it, and for now I’ll do the rice."
Joe loves to cook and considers cooking to be his main vocation (besides skateboarding, of course). When he stands in the kitchen, he doesn't notice anything except the quick movements of his hands and the alluring smell of food.
Only the loud sound of the knife falling to the floor rips Joe out of his mind. He looks around in surprise at Cherry next to him and almost stops breathing. For the first time in a long time, he sees Cherry so lost and almost small.
"Cute," Joe thinks involuntarily.
"What's the problem?"
The problem is that Cherry doesn't know how to cook. Absolutely. Not at all.
"What do you usually eat?"
"I have enough money to order delivery for myself."
"Or just make another artificial intelligence and teach it to cook?"
Сherry doesn't laugh. "Oh, shit, it's bad."
Sighing heavily, Joe quickly puts the rice on the fire, tosses the knife raised from the floor into the sink and takes another from his personal supplies.
"Watch and learn."
Joe's hands move as if by themselves. They cut the chicken's breast quickly and neatly - not too large, but not too small. Absolutely perfect.
"Here, try it yourself."
Cherry's afraid to pick up a knife. His usual indifference and cold-bloodedness are replaced by a gamut of emotions unfamiliar to Joe, starting with a little embarrassment and ending with an approaching fear. So joe stands behind him and gently takes Blossom's hand in his.
"Press a little harder, hold with your other hand so that it doesn't slip out."
Cherry doesn't notice how he stops breathing. It seems to him that Joe is doing it for both of them - too loud and too close. Too fucking hot. Blossom stops noticing everything except how Joe's touching his fingers.
"Not so difficult, right?" Joe laughs contentedly, grabbing the knife from his hands, pushing Cherry away easily with his hip and taking his place at the cutting board. "I'll finish it. Salt the rice for now and make sure it doesn't boil away." Cherry just nods silently and tries to calm her heart.
Blossom leans against one of the pedestals, watching as Joe pours soy sauce into a deep plate and dips the cut chicken in it. Joe isn't distracted by anything, his movements are honed to perfection, and yet he manages to comment on his every step, explaining to Cherry how and why he does it.
"I put the chicken on the fire, can you drain the rice?" Cherry doesn't even try - he just shakes his head negatively, forcing Joe to sigh loudly again. "Then at least open the wine from the warehouse."
This is a feasible task for Cherry. He almost runs away from the kitchen.
Watching Cherry bring plates of food to one of the tables, Joe locks the restaurant door so that no one else accidentally breaks in.
Not that anyone other than Cherry could do such a stupid thing.
Not that Joe would even let anyone but Cherry do it.
"Enjoy your meal."
"Thanks for the dinner."
Joe almost spits his food onto the plate under the dumbfounded gaze of Blossom.
"How much salt did you put in the rice?!"
"I was afraid to undersalt."
"Well, congratulations, you did exactly the opposite."
And yet Joe can't help but smiling. At least Cherry tried.
"You know, it is easier to fix under-salted rice, you can add some kind of sauce to it and it be good as new."
Cherry pensively puts a piece of chicken on a fork and says, without stroking Joe's eyes:
"But I prefer over-salted rice. It's better to overdo it than not even try to add flavor."
Such a common and unremarkable phrase makes Joe rethink everything that happens in his life.
That's right. Maybe sometimes it is worth going too far, overdoing it, but still try and not regret what didn't happen.
Not regret about things that could've been perfect.
And that's why Cherry comes to Joe's restaurant after closing. That's why he still tolerates his company. That is why he picks up a knife and for the first time tries to cut the chicken evenly. Because Cherry is tired of eating undersalted rice. Because Cherry is tired of not even trying.
"I can give you a couple more personal master classes." Blossom looks up in surprise, noticing Joe's calm and contented gaze stared directly at him. "I get busy sometimes, you know. I can't always prepare you a personal dinner from the chef."
And yet Cherry smiles softly, realizing that this is unlikely to ever happen. Cherry will drop by Joe's for dinner more than once, and Joe himself, no matter how much he argues, will never refuse to cook him something to eat.
And he will always be there, as he was all his life.
Cherry is sure.