Archive of Our Own

“Hellooo?” Miya called over the loud, very non-Italian 80s music booming through Sia la luce and one even louder (but familiar) voice singing along.

“Kitchen,” Cherry hollered back. A bit unnecessarily, since there wasn’t really any other place they could be and Miya could find them by Joe’s voice alone. 

Confused and a bit wary, Miya peeked around into the kitchen just in time to see Joe doing…something with way too much butt-shaking at his stovetop.

“🎶~I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling, gotta make you understand~ Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you~🎶,” Joe belted out enthusiastically.

“What is he doing?” Miya asked, absolutely appalled.

“Singing and dancing, I’d guess,” Cherry replied dryly, taking a sip of his wine. “Oh, and cooking.”

“You don’t seem surprised.” Miya sat next to Cherry, slightly hypnotized and definitely repulsed by Joe’s questionable ‘dancing’. “Does he sing to you, uh, often?”

“He’s not singing to me,” Cherry frowned irritably, giving a limp wave. “He’s low on sleep and this is how he stays awake—”

Joe looked over his shoulder from his pot on the stove and sang with exaggerated feeling into the handle of his wooden spoon, “🎶~We’ve known each other for so long, your heart’s been aching but you’re too shy to say it~ Inside we both know what’s been goin’ on, we know the game and we’re gonna playyy it~🎶!”

Cherry choked back a laugh mid-sip, then thumbed at his nose after accidentally snorting up some wine. 

“Riiiight,” Miya said, looking especially disgusted. He eyed Cherry critically. “Are you drunk?”

“No!” Cherry blurted defensively. Still singing, Joe caught Miya’s eye and nodded emphatically.

“I can’t imagine sober you laughing at this,” Miya pointed out.

Cherry tried to school his expression, but his lower lip quivered slightly. “Fine,” he sighed. “Maybe…just a little.” He sat up straight, looking down his nose at Miya. “It’s not like I need to be completely sober to fold tortellini anyway.”

“Tortellini?” Miya echoed. The only thing in front of Cherry was a rapidly emptying wine glass.

“It’s not quite ready, I wanted to get some other stuff done first,” Joe clarified. “Folding tortellini is one of Kaoru’s hidden talents.”

“Uh, do I want to know what his other hidden talents are..?” Miya asked, eyes wide and feigning fear.

“I dunno, do you?” Joe asked with an eyebrow waggle.

“Kojiro, I will leave!” Cherry blustered, slamming his hand on the countertop.

“I’m kidding,” Joe said. “Kaoru doesn’t have any other talents, hidden or otherwise.”

“I’m leaving. Fold your own fucking hundreds of tortellini—” Cherry started to stand.

“Why would you do it anyway?” Miya asked. “Doesn’t Joe actually have like, staff for that?”

“Two of my guys are brothers and needed the time off for a death in the family,” Joe explained. “And since it’s just an event, I figured I could handle it. I’ve been working on prep since yesterday and if I keep up this pace, tomorrow the rest of my staff will be in and—” Joe’s phone chimed, interrupting him. 

Cherry and Miya watched idly as Joe checked his message, eyes widening and going a shade paler. 

“No,” he breathed. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He looked up, startled, at the two staring back at him. “Shit, sorry, Miya.”

Miya thought it was funny that Joe apologized for cursing with another curse. “Don’t worry about it. Mama never watches his language around me.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t heard before,” Cherry said nonchalantly, settling back down. “More importantly,” he gestured with his glass in the general direction of Joe and the phone in his hand, “what’s fucking kidding you?”

With a disgusted sneer at his phone, Joe slid it back in his pocket and scrubbed his face with his hands. “That was my sous chef. Texting me to tell me that my girls eloped with each other but were too afraid to tell me so they bullied him into relaying the news. Congrats to them, I guess, but would it have killed them to wait like three days?”

“So you’re down four people now?” Miya asked.

“Five,” Joe corrected. “Because that sous chef is on vacation halfway around the world and can’t get back in time even if he could find a flight, which he can’t.”

“Sooo how big is your staff?” Miya ventured, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Six.” Joe looked at him, a little wild-eyed. “Including me.”

“Fuck,” Miya breathed, with feeling.

Joe snorted mirthlessly, covering his face with a hand. “What am I going to do?” he asked himself.

“Kojiro, stir your sauce before it scorches,” Cherry said authoritatively. Then, once Joe had resumed his stirring, he asked with a hint more gentleness, “What do you want to do?”

“I can’t back out. This has been scheduled for months,” Joe said, working it out aloud more than actually answering Cherry. “I can change a few things, substitute a few dishes, make them easier, faster…so I can prep them a day ahead…if I stay all day and half the night I can get it done…I can do the event tomorrow night, I just need…just need people. Bodies. Anybody.” He looked away from his pot. “I can still do it, I think. I just need a few people to be my extra hands.”

“Using my hands is my hidden talent,” Cherry said with a slight smirk.

“Ew.” Miya grimaced.

“Not like that, brat,” Cherry rolled his eyes. 

“You’ll help?” Joe asked, brow furrowed as if he was still deciphering what he’d heard.

“Of course I’ll help, jackass,” Cherry bristled. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“No, I do!” Joe said quickly. “I do. Really. A lot. Okay, so, now we just need a few more people. Who can we get—”

“Oh look, I found one,” Cherry said flatly, placing a hand on Miya’s head and ignoring his indignant squawk. “How convenient.”

“Wow, gee, I’d love to help but I’m pretty sure there’s child labor laws against this sort of thing—”

“If you can curse, you can work,” Cherry said.
“Besides, it’ll be fun,” Joe said.

“Right,” Miya said hollowly. “Working with drunk Cherry while you try to sing old American music from the fifties sounds like so much…fun.”

“I am not drunk!” Cherry squeezed Miya’s head one-handed. 

“Old music from the fif—” Joe sputtered. “That’s it,” he pointed at Miya with his spoon. “You are helping me and you are getting an education about music while you’re here.” He caught the sauce dripping off the spoon with his other hand and quickly licked it from his palm. 

“Nooo,” Miya groaned. 

“You can wear your own earbuds and listen to your own music,” Cherry promised, “if you con Reki and Langa into helping too.”

“Deal.”

“So how long has he been like this?” Reki ventured, biting his lip in concentration as he folded tortellini. 

“His whole life,” Cherry answered sincerely and Miya snickered.

“No, I mean…like, today.”

“Since I got here,” Miya volunteered, folding faster than Reki and Langa but still slower than Cherry. He’d thought Joe was just joking about it being Cherry’s hidden talent but he was actually really freakin’ good. Made him wonder just how many times Joe had talked Cherry into doing this. 

“Since about nine this morning,” Cherry said, adding another to his sheet tray.

“Are you serious?” Langa asked, surprised. 

“So you’ve been drinking since nine?” Miya asked.

Cherry ignored that. “He’s been working too late several days now. Singing and dancing and being generally obnoxious is how he stays awake. And also just how he lives life.”

“I think he got even louder once he found out he had no help,” Miya said. “Well, not his usual help, I mean. Maybe he’s singing his frustration out. Guess it’s better than him yelling or having a nervous breakdown.”

“True,” Langa agreed with a nod, focused intently on his pasta work.

“The music helps him focus and keep a rhythm while cooking. And the,” Cherry scrunched his face in distaste, “dancing is how he burns off all those Italian-food calories. But yeah…usually he’s not quite this loud.”

“You sure know a lot about his habits,” Miya pointed out slyly.

“Shut up.”

“Shouldn’t he conserve his energy rather than waste it—” The boys glanced over at Joe’s dancing and immediately regretted it, all three whipping their heads back down in unison. “—doing that?” Langa asked quietly.

“I think I see why his staff left,” Reki muttered, eliciting an amused snort from Cherry. “I’m surprised you’re here, Cherry.”

Cherry raised a questioning eyebrow and took a sip from his glass, though Miya had noticed his drinking had slowed considerably now that he was actually working. 

“I mean, don’t you hate each other?” Reki added.

“Immensely,” Cherry said emphatically, delicately adding another tortellini to his tray.

Langa frowned. “Then why—”

“Excuse me!” a voice called sweetly from the back door. “Chef Nanjo, it’s Tulip to discuss the final details for your floral arrangements for tomorrow!” Shadow stepped into the kitchen, momentarily surprised by the four familiar faces at the table, all working diligently in their matching Sia la luce caps like little pasta-making elves. “What are you guys doing here?!”

“Ah, Shadow!” Joe ceased his singing. “Right right, the flowers for tomorrow…” He trailed off, squinting slightly as he looked intently at Shadow. “Hey, Shadow—”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Shadow said warily.

“—how do you feel about doing dishes? I mean, um, kitchen work? You look like you’re a handy guy like that.”

“Dishes?”

“I’ll pay you,” Joe said quickly. “And feed you.” He clapped his hands together, pleading. “I have a major event tomorrow and I’m running on fumes already and my entire staff abandoned me. Please?”

“Uh—” Shadow grimaced.

“Please?” Reki, Langa, and Miya all looked up at him with puppy dog eyes.

“I…I guess I could help—” Shadow stammered.

“Yay!” the three boys high-fived. 

“I guess I’ll come back when I get off work later and see what you need help with,” Shadow said uncertainly.

“Perfect!” Joe said enthusiastically. “You’re a lifesaver! And be ready to sing!”

“What?!”

 
“When he said be ready to sing, I thought he was joking,” Shadow muttered, frowning.

“I don’t know how he isn’t hoarse,” Reki said, slightly awed. “He’s been doing this since we got here.”

“Since I got here,” Miya clarified. “He’s been singing to Cherry all day.”

“To Cherry?” Langa asked, confused.

“You understand English, aren’t you listening to any of the songs he’s singing?” Miya asked pointedly.

“Oh,” Langa frowned, thinking. “I guess I wasn’t really paying attention. They’re all kinda old. I don’t really know them.”

“C’mon, Kaoru!” Joe wheedled from across the kitchen, kneading dough while Cherry cracked eggs next to him. “Sing with me!”

“No,” Cherry said firmly, glancing away before he got caught ogling Joe’s muscles as he kneaded.

“I know you know the words,” Joe pressed on, picking up in the middle of the current song. “🎶~I hear you calling and it’s needles and pins—and pins! I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name, don’t wanna touch you but you’re under my skin—deep in!~🎶”

“This is embarrassing,” Reki groaned, pulling his cap down a little lower. “I can’t believe I ever thought he was cool.”

“Do we even need to be here?” Shadow grumbled. 

“I’m actually impressed by his lung capacity,” Langa said sincerely.

“🎶~I wanna kiss you but your lips are venomous…POISON!~🎶,” Joe continued.

“I’m really surprised Cherry hasn’t left a long time ago,” Shadow muttered thoughtfully.

“Maybe he likes it?” Langa offered.

“He was actually laughing at it earlier,” Miya added smugly.

“No way!” Reki gasped, shocked.

“Alright,” Joe said to himself, wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm, kneading and song concluded. “Dough for breadsticks done.” Cherry crossed it off the prep list on the fridge.

Langa’s face lit up. “Breadsticks?”

“I’ll make sure there’s extra for the staff meal tomorrow,” Joe promised with a grin. 

“More pasta?” Miya whined. He’d watched Joe make so many batches at this point he thought he could probably make it himself.

“I had to change my plans a little to make the menu work with an emergency staff,” Joe admitted. “But I don’t want to compromise on this. We’re known for our house-made pasta.”

“Should’ve switched the tortellini for something quicker,” Cherry said. “That was probably not the best use of time in this situation.”

“I knooow,” Joe groaned. “But it was the one thing they requested very specifically. So we had to waste time doing it.”

“Do you really have to make your own pasta?” Reki asked, fascinated with Joe’s movements. He looked up at him. “Isn’t it just easier to buy it?”

Joe looked back at him, jaw dropped. Sputtering, he turned to Cherry. “Did you hear—? Buy? Premade?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, cringing. “Kaoru— I can’t even— Reki, just—”

“Good job, Reki, you gave him an apoplectic fit,” Cherry said dryly. “Don’t have a heart attack, Kojiro.” He looked back at Reki flatly. “If he croaks, this is on you.”

“But you’ll do CPR on him, right, Cherry?” Miya teased.

“Absolutely not,” Cherry huffed. “If he dies, we at least get out of this stupid dinner tomorrow.”

“Um, I was wondering the same thing,” Langa said slowly. “Can anyone even taste the difference..?”

“I can,” Cherry said.

“Kaoru can,” Joe said at the same time. “Shitty megane has an amazing palate.”

“They don’t call me the God’s Tongue for nothing,” Cherry said, completely deadpan.

Miya choked on his own spit and Joe herked water up his nose mid-sip, turning to cough it out in the sink. 

“Cherry!” Miya screeched as Cherry burst out laughing.

“Kaoru!” Joe complained in the same tone, but laughed along, still coughing a little. “Don’t joke, I’m not used to it!”

Langa looked to Reki uncertainly, not certain if he heard correctly.

“I think it’s an anime reference,” Reki explained. “I…hope.”

“🎶~If I could reach the stars, I’d give them all to you, then you’d love me, LOVE ME, like you used to do~🎶,” Joe sang too-enthusiastically as he cooked.

“Kojiro, how do I tell when this is ready?” Cherry asked from his spot next to him at the stove, whisking the sabayon and frowning at it sternly.

Joe leaned over slightly, their shoulders touching as he looked in Cherry’s double boiler. “Keep going. It’ll thicken.”

“But it’s not.”

“It will.”

“I don’t want to fuck it up.” Cherry looked up at him.

“You’re fine. Pay attention to the smell—”

“🎶~Too strong to tell you I was sorry, too proud to tell you I was wrong, I know that I was blind and darlin’—~🎶,” Cherry sang spontaneously, surprising the shit out of everyone but Joe.

“Alright, Kaoru!” Joe grinned, genuinely excited. “Now we’re cooking with gas!” he said before joining in for the chorus.

“🎶~…If I could find a way, I’d take back those words that’ve hurt you, and you’d stay~🎶,” they sang together.

“Wasn’t the stove always gas?” Langa asked Reki quietly.

Shadow stared at Cherry in amazement, elbowing Miya without looking away. “How much has he had to drink?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Too much,” Miya mouthed back, already videoing the whole thing on his phone.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Reki said, stunned.

“No one would,” Shadow agreed. 

“Oh, you haven’t heard anything until you’ve heard Kaoru rap,” Joe said, a little too manic, already thumbing through his playlist. “You want ‘Walk this Way’ or ‘Baby Got Back’?”

“Kojiro!” Cherry protested, color high on his cheeks.

“Folding tortellini, supertaster palate, and spitting mad rhymes,” Miya said, completely deadpan. “Is there anything Cherry can’t do?”

“Yeah,” Joe said, nodding. “Cook.” He flashed a grin. “And beat me skateboarding.”

“Oh what the fuck ever!” Cherry said, whacking him on the arm with a spatula.

“Hey!” Joe protested. “Now Shadow has to wash that.”

“Quit making more work for me!” Shadow yelled from the sink, starting the next load of dishes.

“I want YOU—” started up through the speaker.

“To want ME!” Joe answered along.

“Oh!” Langa perked up, his sudden exclamation startling everyone else in the kitchen. “I know this one!” He looked excitedly at Reki and then…

Started to sing.

“🎶~I want you to want me, I need you to need me, I’d love you to love me, I’m begging you to beg me…~🎶” he sang sweetly, wearing a soft smile as he bobbed his head a little with the music.

“He’s got a nice voice,” Cherry whispered next to Joe’s ear. “Lots better than yours.”

Joe grinned. “Look at Reki’s face,” he mouthed, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Poor kid.”

Perhaps because Joe had been comically singing “to” Cherry earlier so Langa thought that was normal or maybe just because Langa’s eyes were naturally, always drawn to Reki…

But Langa sang to Reki as if it was just the two of them, alone in their own world, not in a too-bright kitchen of an Italian restaurant, faces smudged with flour, surrounded by their odd group of friends. 

The words to the song were simple enough that Reki could understand most of them. But even if Langa had been singing complete gibberish, the sheer love in his voice left no doubt to how he meant the words.

So Reki just stared back, eyes wide in surprise, hands unmoving, and blushing an adorable shade of pink.

The song ended and Langa chuckled to himself.

“That song reminds me of my dad,” he said, still smiling a little. The kitchen was awkwardly silent, but he didn’t seem to notice. “He used to sing it to my mom and make her laugh. I’ll have to tell her I heard it, she’ll probably think that’s funny. Had you heard it before, Reki?”

“Right, tell your mom…” Joe trailed off, suddenly hit with a realization and looking to the clock on the wall. “Holy shit, I didn’t realize it’s that late!” Joe looked at his makeshift crew, slightly panicked. “Now I really am breaking child labor laws. And your parents are gonna kill me.”

“It’s fine,” Langa said. “I’m staying over at Reki’s anyway.”

“And mom’s used to us staying out late skateboarding,” Reki added a beat later, still recovering from Langa’s performance.

“Okay, so you two are in the clear, I guess…but what about Miya? He’s like ten.”

“Funny.” Miya rolled his eyes.

“I’m teasing,” Joe said, albeit unnecessarily. “Still.” He frowned. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble?”

“Nah,” Miya shrugged. “I texted hours ago.”

“You can come with us,” Reki offered. “If you want.”

Miya’s gaze slide from Reki to Langa and hesitated just a moment. “Yeah, I’ll pass. But thanks.”

“You wanna crash at my place?” Joe offered.

“I can hardly think of anything I’d want to do less.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joe asked with a frown, looking from Miya to Cherry, who just shrugged.

“I can give you a ride,” Shadow said. 

“In the Tulip-mobile?” Miya snickered.

“What’s wrong with it!” Shadow shouted.

“Anyway,” Joe said, ignoring their banter. “The plan tomorrow…” He paused a moment, looking at them nervously. “You guys are coming back tomorrow, right?”

“As long as there’s breadsticks,” Langa said quickly.

“We’ll be back,” Shadow assured him. “So what were you saying?”

“Most of the stuff that’s left I’ll have to do, or can’t be done up ahead. So you guys don’t have to worry about coming in until about an hour or so before go time. Reki, Shadow, I want you two in the kitchen. Kaoru will run the front with you assisting him, Miya—”

“So bring something nice to change into,” Cherry told Miya. 

“And Langa…” Joe pondered while Langa looked back at him expectantly. “You’re handsome enough for front of the house but you’re a little too blunt to deal with customers, so I think I’ll keep you in the kitchen with me. We’ll let the two smarmy bastards Kaoru and Miya do the front.”

“Hey!” Miya yelped. Cherry just looked a bit smug.

“I mean it as a compliment, being manipulative is a real skill,” Joe said. “Kaoru could sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman in white gloves.”

“A ketchup popsicle sounds kinda gross,” Reki muttered.

“I’d try it,” Langa chimed in.

“And that’s why you’re staying in the kitchen,” Joe said affectionately, clapping Langa on the shoulder.

“Man, I do feel really bad for keeping them so late,” Joe said as he and Cherry headed back into the kitchen after seeing everyone else off. “Maybe I am a shitty boss and that’s why everyone leaves.” He pulled on black nitrile gloves.

“What are you doing?” Cherry asked, blinking in surprise. “Kojiro, you’ve already been here for sixteen hours and you have a full day tomorrow—”

Joe laughed, oddly happy that Cherry was so worried about him. “Just gotta prep this chicken and get it soaking overnight. Should’ve probably done it earlier but…Anyway. Then we can go. Well, you can go any time, I guess, you don’t have to wait for me…”

“Hmm,” Cherry said noncommittally, rinsing out his wine glass and filling it with water as he leaned against the opposite counter. He didn’t say anything, enjoying the quiet of Joe finally not singing his lungs out and the peace of having the kitchen back to just the two of them. It was great that everyone had showed up to help—it really was, Joe would be totally fucked otherwise—but there was something about just sitting and watching Joe work that Cherry found relaxing.

Hell if he’d ever actually admit it though.

He never knew he had a thing for black gloves until he’d seen them on Joe’s large hands. And there was just something about the way the muscles in his forearms flexed and moved, the knife flashing with efficient, practiced movements that was borderline hypnotic.

Cherry took a sip of his water, rolling his eyes at himself. He must way too fucking tired and way too fucking far gone if watching Joe clean chicken breasts was sexy.

“You staying over?” Joe asked quietly, breaking the silence. He didn’t look up from his cutting board.

“Oh,” Cherry said, blinking as the question caught him off guard. He hadn’t actually thought about it. Instead, he’d kind of just assumed he was. But there was really no reason to…he’d quit drinking hours ago (despite what Miya thought) and he needed to get his outfit picked out and ready for tomorrow’s service. So he really didn’t need to stay and wait for Joe— “Um, I hadn’t planned on it,” he fibbed.

“Oh,” was all Joe said in reply. “You can. If you want.” He smiled sheepishly. “I guess you know that.”

“I need to get things ready for tomorrow,” Cherry said. “I might try to find something for Miya too, just in case. I’d like for us to match-but-not-match, if that makes sense. I was thinking—” He paused, stopped by the amused smile on Joe’s face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Joe said, still smiling to himself. He glanced up just briefly, eyes mischievous despite obvious fatigue. “You should wear hats more often.”

“Huh?” Cherry said brilliantly, eyebrows pinched in confusion as he touched the top of his head and the black cap with the embroidered logo that matched Joe’s tattoo. He’d forgotten he was even still wearing it. “Oh.” He glowered to hide his blush. 

“I overheard Langa and Reki whispering at how cute they thought you look like that,” Joe continued.

“Oh, like they have any room to talk!” Cherry said, not actually as irritated as he sounded. “I think I have cavities from being around them all day!”

“Just wait until they actually start dating,” Joe laughed. “It’s gonna be cuteness overload.”

“Gross.” Cherry pulled a face. 

“Listen to you, you sound like Miya now,” Joe teased.

“Don’t even get me started on that precocious little shit,” Cherry sighed fondly. “He acts older than the other two; I have to remind myself how young he is sometimes.”

“Saying stuff like that is why everyone teases you for being an old man,” Joe pointed out.

“Shut up,” Cherry pouted, downing his water. “If I’m an old man, then you are too.”

“Never.” Joe flashed a grin. Finished with his chicken, he straightened and stretched, back audibly popping. “Gah, I don’t think I’ve been this tired since I first opened.”

“Hardly the good old days,” Cherry snorted. “But at least you finally bought coats that fit and aren’t popping buttons in front of customers anymore.”

Joe rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? Oh!” he exclaimed, suddenly thinking of something. “You think the boys want to wear chef jackets tomorrow? I have some for staff.”

Cherry shrugged. “Who knows. They might think it’s cool.”

“What are you talking about, it is cool.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Cherry said, too tired for his words to have much bite.

“You sure you don’t want to stay over?” Joe asked a bit too-casually as he washed his knife. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

“You’re going to make me breakfast anyway,” Cherry pointed out. 

Joe laughed, conceding the point. “You want a ride home?”

Cherry seriously considered it. He didn’t want to go home at all, really, but milking these last moments, the short ride home on Joe’s bike with his chest pressed against Joe’s warm back and his hair whipping in the wind sounded…

Did Joe forget Cherry rode his own bike here? 

“No, I…” Cherry trailed off, knowing even as he said it that he’d look back on this moment like he did so many others, wondering what might’ve happened if he’d made a different choice. If maybe the hope and the tension wasn’t just imaginary and one-sided, if something might’ve finally…happened. 

Cherry didn’t think he was afraid of much. He wasn’t afraid of challenging Adam, breaking bones, losing a beef, or feeling physical pain like piercings, road rash, and bruises.

But, deep, deep down, he was absolutely fucking terrified of losing Joe. 

Oh, knowing Joe, he wouldn’t abandon Cherry completely. Instead, it would just be a fissure in the familiar, comfortable friendship they’d had for decades now. But just that tiny fissure would ruin everything, the awkwardness and alienation even worse than being left entirely, because it would be a constant reminder of how badly Cherry fucked it all up.

And if Joe for even one second thought of Cherry as more than a friend, he certainly would’ve acted by now.

“I drove,” Cherry said finally.

“Oh. Right,” Joe said sheepishly. “Well, um, be careful getting home.”

Cherry just snorted and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. See you tomorrow—”

“Oh, Kaoru!” Joe hurried to stop him and for a split second, Cherry…hoped. 

“Yeah?” Cherry asked, not at all breathy and definitely not licking his bottom lip.

Joe grinned. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“I thought maybe this was an act. Y’know, after seeing them yesterday,” Shadow mused. 

“It is kinda weird, right? For them to be laughing one second and in each other’s faces the next,” Reki agreed.

“Why do they keep getting closer?” Langa asked.

“They’re just gonna end up angry kissing one of these days, aren’t they?” Miya sighed.

“It’s probably a miracle we’ve escaped it this long,” Shadow mused. “Hey, you two!” he hollered at them. “Decide if you’re kissing each other or hitting each other and do it fast, we’re running out of time and need to get back to work!”

It had the desired effect as they simultaneously whirled to face Shadow, both still gripping the other’s collar.

“Hah?” they said together, incensed. “Who would want to kiss this wimpy megane?” Joe continued.

“Like I want rabies from this gigolo gorilla!”

“Yes yes, we know you hate each other, we hate you too,” Shadow said in monotone, ending with a sigh. “So, boss, what’s next?”

“Where did you even get these, Cherry?” Miya asked, looking down at his outfit Cherry had magically supplied for him. 

“Ooh, looking good, Miya!” Joe beamed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Cherry said dismissively to Miya’s question. “They fit, right?”

“Yeah,” Miya said slowly. “Which kind of creeps me out a bit.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Cherry said firmly before leaving the room to change.

“Just let it go,” Joe told Miya. “I think he was kind of excited about picking out clothes for you.”

“Whatever,” Miya grumbled, trying not to actually look happy. He wasn’t a scrub by any means but Cherry’s taste was impeccable. And, knowing Cherry, undoubtedly expensive. 

Momentarily, Cherry returned to the kitchen, dressed in a complementary and similarly expensive outfit. Everyone did a double-take.

Cherry, for his part, said nothing—just looked at Joe, one eyebrow raised, waiting.

“I swear,” Joe sighed. “You just keep getting uglier. But I guess it’ll do.”

Predictably, Cherry rolled his eyes and shook his head. With an annoyed sigh, he started to say, “Fine. Miya, come with me and we’ll go over—”

“Let me put up your hair,” Joe said quickly. 

“What?” Cherry asked incredulously. He looked down at the pink hair draped across his shoulders. “Oh, I guess I probably should have it pulled back—”

“Let me do it,” Joe insisted. 

“Don’t you have like, actual work to do?”

“It won’t take but like two seconds. And I need to take a break for a minute and focus before shit hits the fan anyway,” Joe promised. “You guys too. You’ve been working hard—just chill for a sec. I’ll be back in before that timer goes off,” he called over his shoulder, already following Cherry to the dining room.

The four looked at each other in momentary confusion before coming to a silent agreement and peeking out of the kitchen into the dining room where, odd as it seemed, Cherry sat on a chair and Joe stood behind him, his back to the kitchen, sectioning then starting to braid his hair. 

“So what was that blow up earlier about?” Reki muttered.

“I think that’s just them,” Langa offered.

Joe bent forward slightly, mouth next to Cherry’s ear, saying something the others couldn’t hear. Cherry huffed, even as he reached up to flick Joe in the forehead. Joe chuckled around the hair tie held in his teeth. 

“Gross,” Miya whined, but continued to watch.

“I wonder how long they’ve been dating,” Shadow mused.

“Huh?” Reki asked, surprised. “You think they are?”

“Do you think they aren’t?” Shadow asked back, incredulously.

“Well…I guess…I mean…” Reki trailed off, scratching his cheek. 

“They insist that they’re not,” Langa chimed in, trying to help him out. 

“Right,” Miya said, nonplussed. “Because it’s totally normal for straight bros to have wine nights, sing Cher to each other, and do each other’s hair. You’re absolutely right, Reki, we must just be hallucinating.”

Cherry stuck out his arm to the side and flipped them off.

“You guys really aren’t dating?” Miya asked point blank as they were preparing the dining room.

“No!” Cherry said, looking way more offended than the question merited. “Why do you guys think that—”

“Why wouldn’t we think that!” Miya cut him off. “Like, you think the way you guys act is in any way normal?”

Cherry rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said bluntly. “For Kojiro, yes. That’s just how he is.”

“With you—”

“With everyone,” Cherry insisted firmly. “Kojiro is just…” His eyes flickered to the kitchen, as if somehow he could see around the corner to make sure Joe couldn’t hear. Sneering slightly, like the words themselves tasted awful, “Kojiro is fueled by attention. It doesn’t matter from where. It’s not like I’m particularly special. I mean, haven’t you seen women hanging all over him at S—or anywhere else we go?”

“You’re not particularly special?” Miya repeated, obviously disbelieving.

“No,” Cherry said simply. “I’ve just known him the longest.” At Miya’s skeptical look, Cherry sighed in exasperation. “Listen, just…trust me on this. 

“Hmm,” Miya hmphed to himself, pretty sure that despite Cherry being borderline genius, he was a huge freakin’ idiot.

“Man, Cherry’s really pretty, huh?” Reki mused to himself.

Shadow snorted. “You just now noticed? Don’t you ever hear all the girls squealing over him at S?”

“Well, yeah,” Reki said slowly. “But I guess I never thought much about it. But when he came in just now, I was like, ‘Wow.’”

“You think Cherry’s beautiful, Reki?” Langa asked, brows slightly pinched.

“I didn’t say ‘beautiful’ I said ‘really pretty’!” Reki stammered.

“Careful,” Shadow teased, glancing in Joe’s direction. “Don’t want to make chef jealous talking about how pretty his boyfriend is.”

“What about chef?” Joe asked innocently, as if he’d missed the entire conversation. 

“The boys were talking about Cherry—”

“Reki thinks he’s beautiful,” Langa said.

“No, I said that he’s really pretty!” Reki protested.

Joe just laughed. “Pretty annoying, maybe.”

“Right,” Shadow said skeptically. “That’s totally how you look at him. Like he’s…annoying.”

“This is so stressful,” Miya complained to Cherry once service was underway. “Everyone is so demanding! Why are people so awful?”

“They just are,” Cherry said, squinting at the ticket in front of him, pen raised to cross something off. “But you can’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you sweat.”

“I thought they’d at least be nice to you, since you’re kinda famous.”

“And I thought they’d be civil enough to you because you’re young and cute,” Cherry said, “so I guess we both miscalculated.”

“We’re never gonna get caught up,” Reki whined as he plated, hand shaking. “I just want to cry.”

“No crying in the kitchen!” Cherry barked. “Cry afterwards in the bathroom, but for now we don’t have time.” With a last nod at his list, he started barking out orders, finishing with a sharp, “Got it?”

“Yes, boss!” everyone in the kitchen replied, including Joe.

“You’ve got this,” Cherry said. “Just keep your rhythm and keep pushing. You’ve got this,” he repeated. “Just a little bit more and we’re on the downhill slide. We’re almost there.”

Cherry was nearly out of the kitchen when he heard Joe say plaintively, “Hey…I thought I was the boss?”

“Dream on, chef,” Reki said.

“Cherry’s definitely the boss, chef,” Langa added.

“No doubt about it, chef,” Shadow agreed.

Cherry smiled very briefly, relieved that the mood in the kitchen had picked up a bit. They’d make it through the evening yet.

“We did it!” Joe said, beaming. “You guys did great!” He finished setting out the staff meal. “We really did it.”

“Are you so surprised?” Cherry said with an arrogant smirk. “Of course we did.”

For a moment, Joe stared over at him, forgetting everyone else, and it felt like the teasing smirk playing on Cherry’s lips was for him alone. He blinked himself back to the present before he embarrassed himself. And everyone else in the room.

“Of course you did,” he echoed in a whisper, half-smile on his lips. He looked around at his emergency crew. “Thanks, guys.”

“You’re welcome!” Reki grinned back at him.

“No problem!” Langa said, cheeks already stuffed. 

“Just never ask us to do it again,” Miya said pragmatically. Cherry snorted.

“Agreed,” Shadow groaned before shoving a forkful of pasta in his mouth. 

“Dig in,” Joe told them unnecessarily, gesturing at the spread of intentional leftovers. “I’ll grab drinks.” For the boys he got soda (“I usually don’t drink this stuff, but I’ll make an exception,” Miya had said haughtily), for Shadow and himself he chose wine, and for Cherry he made a cocktail.

Immediately Cherry took a sip. “Mmm,” he hummed happily to himself. “Strong and sweet.”

“Oh, you’re talking about the cocktail,” Miya said cheekily.

Cherry threw a cherry tomato at him.

Everyone ate enthusiastically, plates piled high with the food that had smelled and looked so delicious, taunting them all night.

Between bites, Miya looked over at Reki. “Did you ever go cry in the bathroom?”

Reki laughed. “No, after Cherry’s pep talk I got over it.”

“This is really good, Joe,” Langa said sincerely. He swallowed so he wasn’t trying to talk and eat at the same time. “Even better than usual.”

“Good.” Joe smiled. “I’m glad. Hopefully it makes it all worth it.”

“Dunno that I’d go that far,” Shadow joked, and everyone laughed. 

Joe undid the top couple buttons of his jacket to cool off. Done eating, he leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head.

“You okay?” Cherry asked over the rim of his glass, taking a sip.

“Just tired,” Joe said with a sleepy smile. “And relieved. I know it was a bit tense there for a while—” Cherry snorted at the understatement. “—but you guys all really did just…above and beyond. You really saved my ass. You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think they have a pretty good idea after that experience,” Cherry said and the others nodded in agreement.

They continued to eat, rehashing the night’s events, making jokes, and of course talking about skateboarding, until Joe yawned for approximately the hundredth time.

“Sorry, guys,” Joe apologized. “It’s just been a long one.”

“Yeah, we know,” Miya said wryly, yawning himself.

“You guys have already helped out too much and stayed too late,” Joe said. “You all get out of here. Take some leftovers—”

“Don’t you want us to finish cleaning up?” Langa asked.

“Nah.” Joe shook his head. “I’ll do the rest…tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll sleep all day tomorrow and do it the day after. Anyway, don’t worry about it. You guys have done enough.”

“If you say so,” Reki said slowly, looking to Langa, Shadow, and Miya, apparently speaking on their behalf.

“I say so,” Joe said with a nod.

“And I say so,” Cherry added. “You’re dead on your feet, Kojiro. Go home and go to bed.”

“You’ll help him with that, right, Cherry?” Miya asked.

Cherry scowled. “What—”

“C’mon, boss, take chef home and put him to bed,” Shadow added, leering.

“You’re all fired,” Cherry said vehemently.

“I’m so tired!” Reki sighed, stretching as they walked.

“Oh,” Langa said, thinking. “Should we not skate tonight then?” 

“Whoa whoa, I’m not that tired!” Reki grinned back at him and they laughed together, hopping on their boards.

“I feel like I learned a lot,” Langa said a while later as they sat together.

“Me too,” Reki agreed quietly.

Langa frowned seriously. “Mostly that I never, ever want to own a restaurant.” Reki burst out laughing at that. “The food was good though.” Langa swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It was.” Reki nodded. “Joe’s a really good cook, huh? Wait, I guess he’s a chef.”

“Either way, dinner was really good.” Langa patted his stomach. “And even though it was stressful, it was kinda fun, right? A little?”

“A little,” Reki agreed, then sighed. “I think I know more about Joe and Cherry than I ever wanted to.”

“They’re funny,” Langa said, wearing an amused little smile. “Just think, they’ve known each other longer than we’ve even been alive.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Reki mumbled. “But I guess you’re right.” Langa just smiled back at him. “Hey, um, Langa? I was…I was thinking about, um, them.”

“Is this about Cherry being beautiful?” Langa asked with a slight scowl.

“What?” Reki blurted. “No!”

“Okay,” Langa breathed, relaxing again.

“I just…well, like when we didn’t really know them, right, they both seemed really cool. At least, I, uh, thought they were cool.”

“No, I thought so too.”

“Good,” Reki said, somewhat relieved. “Anyway…well, after all of Joe’s singing yesterday—and Cherry, too, even, I still can’t get over that!—I just…gah!” Reki scrubbed his hands through his hair. 

“It’s okay, Reki,” Langa coaxed with a gentle smile. “Take your time.”

“I guess, I just was thinking about how Joe doesn’t worry about looking cool in front of Cherry. Like, whether they’re dating or not, I guess it doesn’t matter…but they know everything about each other. Anything uncool one has ever done…the other one’s been there to see it.”

“Oh,” Langa said with an interested nod. “I didn’t think of that!”

“And I guess, um…” Reki’s eyes darted to Langa nervously. “I…maybe I got to thinking that I shouldn’t worry about always trying to look cool in front of you. W-we’re friends, so I shouldn’t worry…”

“Reki,” Langa said urgently, grabbing Reki’s hands and making very intense eye contact. “I’ve always thought you were cool.”

“Wha?!” Reki yelped, flustered.

“And besides, think of the beginning when—”

“When you just hopped on a skateboard—well, taped yourself to one—and beat Shadow like it was nothing?”

“When I could hardly stay on the board? And biffed it how many times? When you first started teaching me and you even asked if I needed to hold your hand?” Langa said firmly. “Did it bother you that I was so uncool in front of you?”

Reki blinked back at him in realization. “Oh.” Langa’s grip tightened slightly around Reki’s hands. “N-no, I guess…I guess I never really thought about it. Even during all that…I still thought you were cool.”

“See!” Langa smiled. Loosening his hold, he lowered their hands between them but didn’t completely let go. “I was thinking about something too, Reki. From watching them.” He sighed. “They’ve known each other for a really long time. We only met this year.” His lips twisted in a frown, nearly a pout. “There’s so much time I didn’t share with you.”

“Huh?” Reki squeaked. “Well, I mean…it’s not like you missed out on anything important…”

“It’s all important,” Langa insisted, renewing his grip on Reki’s fingers. Suddenly, he beamed. “But we can be together from now on.”

“R-right,” Reki chuckled nervously. “F-from now on.”

Langa nodded, still smiling. “Never gonna miss anything from here on out,” he said, sounding pretty satisfied. 

“Yeah…”

“Reki?” Langa asked, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

Reki wanted to cover his face with his hands, try to cool his burning cheeks. But Langa still held on to him. Firmly. Which just made his face heat even more. 

“Oh, n-no,” Reki stammered. “I’m fine. I…I’m just kinda surprised you were thinking of all that. But I guess it’s kind of hard not to make comparisons…”

“Oh!” Langa perked up. “But we do have them beat in one thing!”

Reki frowned slightly, canting his head in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Well, I’m definitely not waiting twenty years to kiss you.”

“K-kiss—?!” Reki’s eyes widened comically. “Wai—oh, you mean, like, on the cheek, like for hello…like they do in Canada…” Reki trailed off, panicked. The fact that Langa just stared back at him calmly did absolutely nothing to slow his racing heart or ease the misunderstanding. “They do that in Canada, right? That’s what you mean—”

The next moment, his words were cut off by just a soft press of Langa’s lips to his.

A few seconds later, Langa pulled back a little. “That’s what I meant.”

“O-oh,” Reki said. “Oh.”

Eyebrows pinched, Langa asked, “Did you not like it?”

“No! I, uh, I…” Reki mumbled. “I did.” Tugging his lower lip between his teeth, he looked at Langa. “Do it again?”

“You are staying over, aren’t ya, boss?” Joe asked, unlocking his front door. “You are pretty bossy; it’s a good title for you.”

Cherry snorted, otherwise ignoring Joe’s comment. “I figured I’d have to stay just to make sure you don’t pass out in your entryway.”

“Aw, you do care,” Joe grinned lazily, undoing the rest of his buttons and tossing his chef’s coat on the couch. In one smooth motion, he pulled off his undershirt as well, discarding it on his way to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Cherry hissed.

“Going to bed?” Joe asked hesitantly.

“Not until you’ve had a shower!” Cherry said, picking up both shirts and smacking Joe’s bare shoulder with an open palm. “You’re sweaty and stinky and you’re going to get that nasty smell in the sheets—”

“But, Kaoru, I’m tiiired,” Joe whined, slumping. 

“I know you are—”

“But you don’t care,” Joe grumbled.

“You can go to bed all gross if you want,” Cherry threatened. “But if you do, I’m not sleeping in it.”

Joe scowled at him, letting out a low growl. “Fine,” he finally conceded, heading to the bathroom. “But if I fall asleep in the shower, it’s your fault.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re right, that’s something only you would do,” Joe retorted over his shoulder.

“It was the bath, not the shower!” Cherry yelled after him. As if that was any better.

By the time Cherry had a quick shower himself Joe was already asleep. Not that Cherry was surprised, with how tired he’d been. He hadn’t seen Joe this pathetic in a long time, probably not since he first opened the restaurant (how many nights had he whined to Cherry, “The only way I even know I still have feet is because they hurt!”?).

“Kojiro,” Cherry whispered, knowing Joe couldn’t even hear him. “Scoot over, gorilla. Let me in.” He waited, just on the not-impossible chance Joe was faking. 

Cherry sunk down, perching on the edge of Joe’s bed. The bed. The bed they never talked about. 

They’d slept together, in the most innocent sense of the word, for years when they were little. 

And then, for some reason, they just never really…stopped.

Sure, they didn’t sleep in the same bed all the time. Or even…often? And they’d kind of quit for a while, or at least tried to, during their school years when other friends started making fun of them for it and calling it weird. They’d always done it so to them, there wasn’t really anything weird about it. But even then, regardless of the teasing, Cherry would still end up falling asleep with his head pillowed on Joe’s shoulder or Joe would nap resting on Cherry’s lap. 

So all it took was just one random evening several years ago, a little too much to drink, and a simple, “Just crash at my place” for them to fall back into the habit.

That first time, Cherry dutifully put up a fuss. They bickered about the bed, about the floor, about sleeping on the couch, just because they felt were supposed to. But after it was all said and done, with an exasperated, “Fine! We can both sleep in the bed!” (who said it the first time? Cherry? Joe? Did it even matter?) it was done. They never spoke of it again; it just was.

Just like how the old sweats and t-shirt that Joe dug out for Cherry that first night became Cherry’s nightclothes. Nothing needed to be said, Cherry never had to ask for them—hell, they lived in the same spot in the same drawer. 

Frowning, Cherry lightly brushed Joe’s hair off his forehead, Joe’s skin warm—always so warm—under his fingers. 

Sometimes he wondered why Joe never said anything. He could blow it off as Joe just being an idiot, but he knew that wasn’t true. The dumb gorilla was smarter than he let on. So why did he just keep going along with this, pretending it was normal? That was okay?

Cherry’s fingertips lingered on Joe’s temple. Maybe he felt the same way Cherry did—that by saying anything about this bizarre arrangement, it would…break it…somehow.

Cherry smiled sadly. Well. It was going to break sooner or later. He hadn’t been lying earlier, talking to Miya about how Joe thrived on attention. It probably wasn’t obvious to people who knew him now, but Cherry knew the child Joe had been: desperately seeking attention and affection from anybody, searching it out and needing it so badly because he didn’t get it at home. 

That was probably why Joe always talked about getting married some day, telling Cherry his elaborate honeymoon plans. At first Cherry thought it was odd—stupid, even—and since it wasn’t something Cherry really cared about at all and paid no mind to, it took him a while to understand why Joe was so obsessed with it.

Finally, though, it made sense. Joe would simply take matters into his own hands and create the family he never had. It didn’t matter if he didn’t grow up with it—he’d just make one, if that’s what it took. 

So, Cherry thought to himself, maybe that’s why neither of them ever spoke about the sleepovers and all that entailed—because they didn’t need to. 

It would all come to an end very naturally. Very quietly. 

And probably very soon.

“Enough of that,” Cherry whispered to himself, definitely not blinking back tears. “Fine, gorilla, if you won’t move, I’ll just climb over—” He’d barely swung one leg over, briefly straddling Joe’s sleeping body, one hand on his chest to help balance, when Joe blinked awake and Cherry froze in surprise.

“Kao…ru?” Joe groaned groggily, frowning. His hands went naturally to Cherry’s hips, gently holding him in place. “What are you doing here?”

Cherry was suddenly so irritated—whether at the stupid question, Joe’s stupid hands on his hips like they belonged there, his own embarrassment at this particular position, he didn’t know—he stayed put. “What do you mean what am I doing here? You invited me, dumbass!”

Still obviously confused, Joe looked Cherry up and down, eyes lingering on where Cherry straddled his hips. He looked back up at Cherry, his smile lopsided and sleepy. “Okay.”

“Don’t ‘okay’ me!” Cherry bristled, lightly backhanding Joe’s bare chest. “What’s with that stupid smug—”

“Oh, Kaoru!” Joe laughed, crushing him in a hug and rolling them both, pinning Cherry underneath him. “You’re so funny.”

“What are you—!”

“Even in my dreams you’re still you,” Joe mused happily, just barely rubbing their noses together.

“Hey. Dumbass.” Cherry was a little breathier than he intended, but it was hard to sound stern with Joe hovering over him so damn close, boxing him in with those stupid giant arms of his. “You’re not dreaming—”

“That’s probably what dream-Kaoru would say,” Joe reasoned.

Cherry blinked back at him, wondering for a split second if Joe was actually totally awake and just fucking with him. “Asshole, are you awake?”

“Are…you?” Joe asked uncertainly.

Cherry snorted. “You fucking dumbass. Yes, I am awake.”

“Why?” Joe mumbled, pouting. 

“Because I helped you out with your stupid restaurant and, like an idiot, decided to stay over because I wanted to make sure you got to bed.”

“Oh.” Joe pondered that and Cherry shook his head at how cute annoying this sleepy idiot was.

“Remember?” Cherry prompted.

“Yeah,” Joe said, in a way that made it sound like a complete an utter lie. He grinned drowsily. “Thank you, Kaoru. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

And with that, Joe kissed him. 

It was soft and warm and slow and Cherry’s brain had barely caught up enough to register a slight bit of tongue when Joe pulled back, kissed him chastely one last time, and then conked out.

“Kojiro,” Cherry said ominously. He poked at Joe’s cheek. “Oi. Kojiro!”

Joe didn’t stir in the least so Cherry let his hand fall with a resigned and very confused sigh.

What the fuck was that?

Despite his exhaustion, Cherry didn’t fall asleep for a long time. 

Why am I so freakin hot—shit! I have to get to work—

Wait. No. That was yesterday. No work today. 

Why am I so freakin hot?! Where are the stupid cover—

Joe kicked out a leg, trying to kick off the covers, and hit something distinctly human instead.

What the—KAORU?!

To Joe’s surprise, Cherry slept through being somewhat kicked, instead giving a little whimper in his sleep and trying to burrow closer into Joe’s chest. Instinctively, Joe tightened his arms around him.

Wait. Where’s his shirt?

Wait wait wait. Kaoru?

Joe’s mind raced, trying to puzzle things out, piece things together and a memory bubbled to the surface—

“Thank you, Kaoru. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Warm. Soft. And slow.

Uh oh.

Had that…happened?

Wow. Awesome—no!

Shit. 

Shit shit shit.

Well, Cherry had stayed, so he must not have fucked up so badly as to make him leave. That had to count for something, right? May…be?

That didn’t really explain why Cherry was topless and cuddled into Joe’s chest, or why Joe’s hand was lightly stroking down Kaoru’s back, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Though now that he was over the initial shock, Joe wasn’t too concerned about making sense of it. Regardless of what he figured out, Cherry would set him straight once he woke up, so why bother worrying about it? It was much more appealing to just lounge in bed, snuggling Cherry as he slept, for as long as he could get away with it. 

Unfortunately, he really really had to pee.

So with a resentful groan he untangled himself as stealthily as possible, hoping Cherry continued to sleep while he did his business and moved on to cooking breakfast. 

“Good morning,” Joe chirped as he heard Cherry shuffle into the kitchen, turning slightly, “sunshi—gyerk.” Cherry was no longer topless. Instead, he wore that shirt—Joe’s shirt—the orange-and-white striped one that Cherry bitched about and called hideous every time Joe wore it. It hung huge on his slighter frame and the colors didn’t complement him at all and it was fucking adorable. 

Cherry scowled, rubbing at his eyes. He let out a huge yawn and put his glasses back on. “What are you doing up so early? I thought you’d probably sleep all day.”

Ignoring Cherry’s questions, Joe just blurted, “Where did you get that shirt?!”

Cherry stared back at him like he was a total idiot. “Your closet?”

“I thought you hated it.”

“I do.” 

“Then why—”

“I’m hoping to spill something on it while we eat breakfast and stain it so you have to finally throw it out,” Cherry said flatly, sitting on a stool on the other side of the kitchen bar.

“Rude!” Joe laughed. “That’s my favorite shirt!” 

“It doesn’t actually fit you! You can’t even button it all the way.”

“What happened to yours, anyway?”

“My real clothes are still in the locker at the restaurant. I didn’t want to put the fancy clothes back on just to eat breakfast.”

“What about the shirt you slept in?”

Cherry looked away, cheeks pinking with embarrassment. “Well a furnace disguised as a gorilla just crashed out o-on top of me. So after waking up sweaty, I tossed that shirt…somewhere. But then I got too cold so…”

Ah. That explained the partial nudity. And the snuggling.  

“Sorry,” Joe said. He walked around the bar, handing Cherry his plate before taking the stool next to him, ready to eat his own breakfast.

“For what?” Cherry asked levelly. 

The question—and Cherry’s tone—took Joe by surprise and made him a little nervous. “Err, for…making you sweaty.” Joe realized what he’d just said and waggled his eyebrows. Cherry rolled his eyes and Joe huffed a laugh before asking slowly, “I, um…didn’t do anything else…weird, did I? That I need to, uh, be sorry for?”

Cherry looked at him, waiting a beat too long. “No.” Tension hung in the air as Joe debated whether to call out Cherry’s fib and Cherry waited to see if he would. The silence lasted only a few seconds until Cherry broke eye contact and held out his hand. “Pass me the Tabasco.”

Joe hesitated.

It would be easy enough to let this go. To pretend it never happened—

No. That was a lie. It wouldn’t be easy at all. Just because he’d been pretending for years that they were just friends and nothing more didn’t mean it was easy.

He handed the bottle of hot sauce to Cherry but didn’t quite let it go, their fingers overlapping. 

“Y’know, about the last couple days, the thing last night…” Joe said, trying to sound nonchalant as he glanced out of the corner of his eye to catch Cherry’s reaction. “Thank you, Kaoru. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jaw clenched, Cherry took the bottle from him with a little more force than necessary, quickly unscrewing the cap and shaking a healthy dose on his omelette. 

And then all over his (Joe’s) shirt.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Joe yelped.

“I told you I was going to! What, did you think I was joking?”

“Fine, well, stained or not, I’m not throwing it out. That’s your new sleep shirt now so I hope you like it.”

“My new—!” Cherry stammered, slamming down the bottle. “Like I even need one!”

“What does that even mean?” Joe asked, genuinely confused. “Are you finally going to start sleeping shirtless with me?”

“What?” Cherry screeched. “No!”

“Then what—”

“You have to know that we can’t do much more of this,” Cherry said, visibly pained. 

“Why—” Joe’s throat tightened and his heart hammered as he realized the answer to his unfinished question. He’d fucked up big time. He’d kissed Cherry, and it was soft and delicious and gentle and great and he’d been half asleep (or four-fifths) when he did it and that one stupid moment ruined twenty years of…them. He’d gambled. And lost. Because now Cherry knew—

“Why?” Cherry repeated, oblivious to Joe’s racing thoughts. “Because I can’t keep doing this, getting used to it, comfortable with it, then just have you leave me—”

It took Joe a second. “What? Wait wait—leave you? Kaoru, what are you talking about?”

“Cmon, Kojiro. You’ve wanted a family since you were little and you’ve been talking about your wedding since high school and ever since stupid Italy you haven’t shut up about stupid honeymooning there and—”

“Well, okay, but that’s because—”

“And I knew that and was prepared for that and kept telling myself that’s what you really wanted but then last night you…” Cherry’s voice cracked, but the flash of desperation across his face turned to anger. “You ruined everything!”

“I what?” Joe asked, still trying to catch up. Cherry was talking too fast and too crazy. 

“You kissed me like it was just nothing. I’d rather never have one at all than have it like that!” Cherry blurted. 

“Wait—” Joe felt like he was saying that way too much. “Wait! Does that mean you wanted one?”

Cherry paled, staring back wide-eyed. “T-that’s not what I said!”

“But it’s not not what you said,” Joe pressed. 

Cherry sneered defensively. “What the hell does that even mean? I’m sorry, I don’t speak gorilla.”

Joe leaned forward, closing the distance. “Yeah, well, I don’t speak brat.” He could tell Cherry wanted to step back but his pride wouldn’t let him. 

Instead, Cherry puffed up. Ineffectively. “What are you doing? Get in my face all you want. You can’t intimidate me with your stupid muscles—”

Joe…had a hunch. And he trusted his hunches.

So Joe kissed him.

Cherry was mid-sentence so it was open-mouthed from the start, a strangled sound of surprise and then Cherry eased against him, kissing him back.

At least until he remembered they were arguing and he pulled away just enough, fingernails digging angrily into the skin where Cherry gripped Joe’s shoulders.

“You did it again!” Cherry complained, a little breathless.

“What?” Joe laughed, confused and totally okay with it.

“The— the thing,” Cherry said lamely. Scrunching his nose in distaste, he mumbled, “You just…do it. Like it’s nothing important. Isn’t the first one supposed to be special?”

It was all Joe could do to keep from kissing Cherry again, the cuteness overload was too much. Instead, he tried his best to keep his cool.

“Then show me,” Joe said simply.

“What?” Cherry asked incredulously.

“Then show me,” Joe repeated. “Show me how you want the first one to be.”

“Well it’s hardly the first one anymore, dumbass gorilla—”

“Sure it is,” Joe coaxed. “We’ll take a mulligan on the first two.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I think you’re just chicken,” Joe dared, corner of his lips quirking. “Sure, you want to say mine aren’t right but you can’t actually do any better, can you?”

“Fine!” Cherry snapped. “The first one should be…nice. And kinda sweet. Right?” 

“I dunno, you tell me.” Joe tried not to smirk at the sight of Cherry staring at his mouth so seriously. “I’m waiting.”

“Just be patient!” Cherry said. “I want it to be right!”

“Of course you do. You’re a chronic over-achiever.”

“Will you just quit fucking looking at me? Close your eyes.” Cherry leaned closer. 

“How do I know you won’t just leave? Or pour Tabasco on my head—”

“Oh. That’s actually a really good idea,” Cherry murmured, close enough now their lips almost brushed as he spoke. “Close your stupid eyes,” he said through clenched teeth.

Risking a Tabasco shower and definitely not fighting a smile, Joe did as he asked, closing his eyes as their lips met. It was nice and sweet, just like Cherry wanted, which Joe secretly thought was hilarious because Cherry was neither of those things. 

Cherry’s fingers wound their way into Joe’s green curls the same time his tongue eased experimentally into Joe’s mouth. Careful to let Cherry lead, Joe happily met him halfway as his hands crept low around Cherry’s waist and settled in what was hopefully a safe zone just barely above Cherry’s ass.

After a final lingering press of lips, Cherry shifted back, eyelids fluttering open. “Well?” he asked haughtily, betrayed by the pink dusting his cheekbones.

“Man, I don’t know,” Joe pretended to think. “Are you really happy with that?”

Cherry bristled, offended. “Why? What was wrong with it?”

“Well, it was okay…but I thought you wanted our first kiss to be perfect.” Joe sighed dramatically. “I guess we’ll have to spend all day practicing until we get it right.” 

Cherry’s lips thinned into a line, bottom lip trembling to keep from smiling. “I said I wanted it to be special. Not perfect.”

“Oh, right,” Joe said. “Still. Sounds like what a quitter would say.” He sat back on his stool, pulling Cherry to him with a gentle tug on his waistband. “I expected a bit more dedication from a perfectionist like yourself, honestly.”

“Is that so,” Cherry said wryly, fitting himself between Joe’s legs.

“Mm,” Joe hummed, tilting his head up. 

“I guess practice makes perfect,” Cherry conceded, already lowering his head down to meet him.

“Then once we get the first kiss figured out, maybe we can move onto the second,” Joe suggested—

—right before grabbing Cherry by the shoulders and shoving, turning his head to the side and letting out a giant sneeze.

Still gripping Cherry’s shoulders, Joe turned back to him, sniffing and scrunching his nose. Cherry blinked back at him, startled.

“I got a whiff of your Tabasco,” Joe explained with a laugh. 

Cherry flushed bright red with embarrassment, scowling as he opened his mouth to say something—

But his stomach growled loudly and he closed his mouth, teeth audibly clicking.

They stared at each other in surprise until Joe burst out laughing a moment later, hugging Cherry to him.

“Well, we definitely failed if we were going for perfect,” Cherry grumbled, voice muffled by his face pressed to Joe’s shoulder.

“Oh, I dunno about that,” Joe said, grinning. He kissed Cherry’s hair, the shell of his ear. “This feels pretty perfect to me.”

“Wha-” Cherry’s voice was embarrassingly breathy so he tried again. “What are you doing?”

“Mm?” Joe asked, trailing kisses down his neck even as his fingers worked the buttons of Cherry’s (his?) shirt. The top button came undone the same time Joe started nibbling on his collarbone. “Well, unless you want me to sneeze again, you need to take off this Tabasco-perfumed shirt.”

“I could just pull it off,” Cherry said, trying to sound rational. Which honestly was getting more difficult by the second. And was probably a lost cause anyway since there wasn’t anything particularly rational about stripping in the kitchen.

“Nah,” Joe said, the word a puff of heat against Cherry’s skin. “Hate for you to ruin my favorite shirt by stretching the collar or popping a button because you’re in too much of a hurry.” 

Cherry rolled his eyes, cursing how his breath hitched as Joe methodically started kissing over his now-exposed chest. 

“Um, Kojiro? You do realize that some of that soaked through. I was tempted not to warn you but if you keep that up, you’re going to get a mouthful of hot sauce any second.”

“Oh, I know,” Joe said, giving an extra wide lick to prove it. “But your Tabasco roulette is kinda turning me on.” He smiled against Cherry’s skin, giving the lightest little bite. “You might’ve accidentally awakened a new kink.”

“Pervert,” Cherry snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Ooh, how about I leave a mark every time I find a spot? It’ll be like a weird treasure hunt!” 

“Weird is right,” Cherry huffed. “And how about no—oh—”

Joe sucked gently. “Then I’ll just leave marks at random."

“Don’t do that either!” Cherry groused, right before his stomach let out another rumbling growl.

“Okay, okay,” Joe cooed, rubbing a hand over Cherry’s deliciously pale belly and leaving a kiss right above his navel. “I get it, you’re jealous. I’ll fill you up soon enough.”

“Kojiro!” Cherry gasped, scandalized.

“What?” Joe asked, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I meant with breakfast..? What did you mean, Kaoru?” He kissed his way back up to standing and grinned mischievously. “Who’s the pervert now?”

“Still you,” Cherry whacked him on the shoulder, shaking with silent laughter. His hands curled around Joe’s neck and pulled him closer. “C’mon. Get me out of these ruined clothes—”

“Don’t you mean shirt?” It was already falling to the floor.

“Get me out of these clothes,” Cherry repeated into Joe’s mouth. “So we can eat breakfast.”

The finally got around to breakfast at about four o’clock that afternoon.