Work Text:
“Forty-eight… forty-nine… fifty…”
Beads of sweat dripped down his face, pooling onto the exercise mat below. Felix lowered his whole body down onto the mat as well. The cool mat lightly chilled his exposed, shirtless, also dripping-in-sweat torso. Tense muscles lightly twitched as they relaxed. He allowed himself a few seconds of reprieve from his daily workout. As Felix rested, he looked around his apartment’s living room. A simple black sofa tucked away in the corner with a small Srengish Furniture Store coffee table pushed up against it, so there was room for Felix to workout. Across from it was a Srengish Furniture Store entertainment centre, holding a few of his favourite martial arts demonstration videos and a lot of his roommate’s collection of who knows what. Felix didn’t know, Felix didn’t care. And a small kitchen, where Felix each week diligently prepares his meals for the week, save for the one night he allows himself takeout. The kitchen is kept in pristine order, though it helps that Felix’s roommate, Sylvain, can barely prepare a bowl of cereal in the mornings.
Speaking of his roommate, the sound of a door opening and closing gently came from the hallway, followed by some soft footsteps. Said footsteps led to the soft crash of Sylvain flopping himself onto the sofa with not a care in the world. Like Felix, Sylvain tended to just wander the apartment without a shirt on. Sometimes without pants, much to Felix’s chagrin. This time, however, at least Sylvain was wearing his favourite loose, blue cotton pyjama pants. He pulled one arm up to prop up his head and turned to Felix half-interestedly.
Growing up as neighbours— and now sharing a place as upstart young career-men— has left them with a strong level of familiarity and brotherhood The kind where despite his self-admitted yet proudly high “level of horny”, Sylvain was used to Felix’s routine, and desensitized to the… results of Felix’s routine. Felix’s propensity to workout in just some simple sweats. “Saves on having to do laundry,” he’d explained once when one of Sylvain’s dates expressed some curiosity, and not some small level of interest in Felix’s often-exposed body. The firm, toned muscle of someone who has spent a lifetime training and strengthening their body.
Ignoring the thud of Sylvain’s body and his casual stare, Felix started a new set. “One… two… three…” The pushups continued, and so did the sweat dripping down his face and body, pooling once more on to the mat below. He could feel Sylvain’s continued stare from the sofa. “What do you want , Sylvain?” Felix remembered that Sylvain’s latest hookup— daresay a partner now that they’ve lasted a Sylvain-personal best of over a month— was over tonight. “Shouldn’t you be with—”
“Shh, shh,” Sylvain’s friendly voice came from the sofa. “They’re talking a little nap. But we were getting kind of hungry, and I know you need to eat after—”
“Anything... but Rangeld’s…” Felix immediately vetoed their usual order joint. “Sick… of them…” Felix was too focused on his workout to offer up any alternatives, his only thoughts being that he was desperate to end this conversation and get back to said workout.
Sylvain hummed in agreement. “Well, a Molinaro’s just opened up nearby. I pass by it going to work sometimes. In the mood for pizza?”
“Eleven… yeah… Twelve… whatever…” Felix’s muscles were starting to ache a little, but he was determined to push through. Training had priority.
“The usual?”
“Sixteen… Spiced sausage and seventeen… hot peppers?”
“Yeah, the usual. Using your phone,” Sylvain added while reaching for Felix’s phone, sitting unguarded on the coffee table.
“Twenty-four… The hell twenty-five… is your twenty-six… phone…?”
“Left it in my room,” Sylvain explained like it was obvious. “Babe is sleeping and I don’t want to wake them up. I’ll transfer you the money later.”
Felix crashed harder to the mat than usual. He rolled his eyes, once again being forced to remember that Sylvain’s latest conquest was staying the night. Again. He supposed it was at least a good sign that this one has lasted for longer than a month. Even if he lost a decent-sized bet to their mutual friend-from-childhood Ingrid about how long it would last. And even if it reminded him of his own… lack of interpersonal relationships.
Whatever. He didn’t need that in his life right now.
“Order done,” Sylvain exclaimed with a small chuckle after a few minutes of typing. “Should be here in about thirty,” he added, lying back down on the sofa, ignoring Felix’s exertion beside him. “You really ought to change your password sometime,” Sylvain attempted some conversation with Felix. “1-1-1-1-1-2, I’ll give you some points for creativity on that last number.”
Giving an annoyed grunt, Felix rolled himself over, and started to work on some crunches.
“Well, I guess I’ll let you get to it,” Sylvain commented after a few moments of semi-awkward but familiar silence, only broken up by the occasional grunt of exertion from Felix. Giving up on getting any actual conversation from Felix, he pushed up off the couch with a little sigh and a little stretch. “I’ll go check on Sleeping Beauty, then.” Sylvain quietly headed back towards his bedroom, gently opening the door, slipping inside, and gently closing it again.
Felix, on the other hand, finished his set and laid back down on the mat. He felt more sweat coursing down his body, leaving a slight cooling chill. He gave a small thought to Sylvain and his current partner, probably being all cutesy and cuddly together, and sighed to himself bitterly. It wasn’t that he was jealous— certainly not of whoever ended up with the hot mess that Sylvain could be on occasion—, and he kept telling himself he didn’t have time for dating. Or the need to date. But just… having it constantly if unmaliciously rubbed in his face did get to him.
But, no matter. What was important now was the next set.
That is, until the doorbell rang out.
“Hey, Fe? You mind getting it?” Sylvain’s voice came from his room. “I’m a bit—”
“Whatever. I don’t want to hear it, you lazy, insatiable ass,” Felix curtly yelled back, lifting himself off the mat to answer the door.
Reaching the door, Felix unlocked it, and opened it. To the most incredible sight he had seen in his life.
Tall.
A blue baseball cap covering long, blond hair, loosely tied back.
An eyepatch covering a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut steel.
A striped blue, “Molinaro’s” embroidered work polo, tight enough to show off the kind of pecs Felix has only seen in videos online.
Tight biceps, firmly supporting two pizza boxes and a small bread box.
“Blue Lions Pizza,” came a deep, husky voice that Felix knew he’d be hearing in his dreams later that night.
“Uh… hi…” Felix stammered. And then a light breeze from the open door chilled the sweat dripping down his exposed chest, reminding Felix of his current state of undress.
A voice came from the hallway, “Everything okay, Fe? I know you like your meat lover’s pizza, so I ordered you one with extra sausage .” Felix could only stand there blinking, Sylvain’s crude insinuation going completely through his ears.
A confused expression came over the delivery man’s face. He glanced at the printed receipt taped on the top box. “Uhh, apologies, let me see… spicy sausage with hot peppers… tomato, black olives, and anchovies… cinnamon sticks with extra icing dip… No ‘extra sausage’. Do I have the wrong order? For Felix Fra—”
Felix’s eyes widened with a fluster. “N— no… that’s the right order.”
During Felix’s awkward exchange with the pizza delivery man, Sylvain had stepped up behind Felix— at least he’s wearing a shirt now, Felix briefly thought to himself— and leaned his elbow on top of Felix’s shoulder, grinning to himself as if he’d told the greatest joke in the world. He let out a soft whistle, “Yep. Looks like they got this order exactly right, just the way you like it, eh Felix?”
Felix whipped around with an embarrassed anger, “What are you getting at, you… you…”
Still standing there, confused, observing this entire scene, Dimitri re-read the receipt to himself. Unseen to the arguing roommates, his eyebrows raised at the delivery instructions he had previously disregarded. Holding the order in one hand, he pulled out a pen and quickly jotted something down on the receipt.
“I am truly sorry, Mr. Fraldarius,” the man apologized in his almost overly formal manner of speech, “I really do need to continue with my deliveries. If you would not mind…”
Face fully flushed in crimson, Felix grabbed the stack of pizzas and ran to the kitchen.
“Sorry about that, buddy,” Sylvain turned to the delivery man with a practiced yet apologetic smile. “But thank you for the delivery. We’ll be certain to order from you again.”
The delivery man tipped his hat politely while Sylvain closed the front door, locking it behind him..
“So, did you like the order,” Sylvain teased Felix as he sauntered into the kitchen. “I’m sure he enjoyed the delivery too,” he gestured at Felix’s still topless state.
“Well now we can never order from there again. I can’t believe you, you disgusting —” Felix started into Sylvain, unable to believe the events of the past few minutes.
“Oh, hey, would you look at that. They followed ‘ your ’ delivery instructions,” Sylvain interrupted. He pointed to the receipt.
Delivery instructions:
send your hottest delivery guy
And below that, written in blue pen:
Dimitri. 555-1162.
“So what was that about never ordering from there again…?”
Felix blushed furiously, suddenly intently interested in focusing on his pizza, and nothing else. Well, nothing else besides that and his phone. Sylvain left him to it, taking his own pizza and the cinnamon bread back to his own sleepy lover.
Meanwhile, a short drive away…
Dimitri parked his car, and let himself in the back entrance of Molinaro’s. “How was the delivery,” a cheery voice asked as he walked through the door.
“Ah, Ashe. Thank you, it was… good.” He smiled a little, remembering the lean but incredibly toned, glistening specimen that answered the door.
“That’s good. I was kind of worried that it was a prank, considering that order,” Ashe added, with mild concern in his voice.
Dimitri looked at the pile of boxes that was his next set of deliveries, wondering if maybe adding his number was… unprofessional.
Only to feel a light buzz coming from his pants pocket, and to hear the light indicating a new text message.
Dimitri took his phone out, and looked at the screen.
Unknown number
“Thank you for the delivery. I apologize for what I was wearing. The instructions weren’t from me, they were my idiot roommate’s fault. But this is my number, if you want. -F.”
Remembering he was still working, and his sense of professionalism prevailing, he put his phone back in his pocket, but couldn’t help the smile creeping across his face.
“It was very good.”