Archive of Our Own ^beta

Gen was in. The fucking. Weeds.

"If fourty-two asks me for one more refill, I'm going to split." He mutters to himself, foregoing the metal scooper (the cups are plastic anyway) as he fills his cup with ice for his table's eighth (yes, he counted- eighth) fill of sweet tea. With extra ice. No lemon.

"Crashing out already?" Senkuu snorts beside him, pulling Gen out of his mental string of curses. Senkuu is as nonchalant as ever, even deigning to lean up against the drink station— as if he doesn't hear Kaseki desperately calling for runners to the line ten feet away. "We've barely chipped away at our wait list- and you've got a booking for ten going down in about fifteen minutes." Senkuu continues, as if Gen could honestly give a flying fuck about the wait list.

Gen brushes past Senkuu to fill up his tea, adding extra simple syrup. Senkuu frowns at the adding of the extra sugar, so Gen supplies an, "it's for the kid," as an explanation. Senkuu's frown deepens. Gen sighs, "Chrome prepped the sweet tea last, and he doesn't add enough sugar for the 'greater good of society,'" he grates in his best Chrome impression, "so when an eleven year old orders a sweet tea, I have to add more sugar, or they're going to send it back. Save myself a trip, and the tip."

"Nice slogan, did you come up with that after refill number six?"

"Oh, fuck off."

"Runners! Get your food while it's hot and ready!" Kaseki calls out, and Gen hears the faint curses of Kohaku insisting that she will not be remaking any fucking orders tonight.

Senkuu wordlessly wanders over to the line, which is getting a bit crowded. Luckily, Ryusui bursts through the kitchen doors to help. "Happy to run, sir. I need a break from behind the bar." He assures Kaseki, who is currently on expo (and thank god, he’s much nicer than Kohaku when Gen needs a favor.)

Gen takes the demands for runners as his cue to get back out onto the floor, because if there's anything he dislikes— it's food running. He really does his best work out on the floor, flattering elderly women, cracking jokes with guys, and upselling the hell out of his entrees— despite all the bitching he does in the back.

"Went ahead and fetched you another sweet tea..." Gen says in soft voice, settling the glass down for the eleven year old who is definitely in the midst of a sugar rush. He pauses before pulling his hand away, pinky still at the bottom of the cup, "...as long as mom and dad are alright with it." He confirms with a smile, and the mom nods while the dad mouths a thank you. Gen moves on to table touch his fourtey-three (more napkins), convince his fifty-six to order another round (despite the fact that they're loaded), and finally close out fifty-one (a couple, which despite looking at the gentlemen nearly the entire experience, the guy still insisted Gen was being too friendly with his girl.)

Did he not notice the split dyed hair? Eyeliner? Perpetual use of the word "honey?" It's not Gen's fault the man was a fucking idiot. He even makes it a point to turn up the flamboyancy around couples to avoid these predicaments.

Regardless, Gen was still disappointed seeing the fat zero with a strike through on the receipt when he began to buss the couple's table. Amaryllis rounded the corner (dubbed Gen's corner, as he was always put into that section on the floor plan for some reason), joining him at the two-seater.

"Sorry." She offers when she steals a look at the receipt, pouring the leftover cola glass into the water glass to stack them up.

"It's fine." Gen laments, "you've got a ten top coming in for me soon anyways, right?"

"Yes." Amaryllis nods, and accepts Gen's offer to take the all the dishes, allowing her a free hand to wipe up the table. "I'll just be sliding this table over with fifty-three and four. S'cool if I seat them now?"

"I suppose." Gen hums, not eager to work, but eager for cash, as he hauls his tray up from the table, and onto his forearm.

"And tell Kohaku we got about twenty-eight menu's going down right now." Amaryllis mutters— and judging by her intonation, likely not wanting to tell her herself.

Which didn't make sense, Gen thought as he strode across the dining room, towards the dish pit, because Kohaku and Amaryllis were... friends-ish. Amaryllis was a gorgeous woman, polite, good at her job, and Kohaku was not one to make crude remarks towards someone like her. Anyone in the kitchen, she would, and any guy working front of house— absolutely.

"Any suitors out there in your section?" Ginro asks from his spot in the dish pit, where he was often exiled to when the usual dish washer, Carbo, was on break.

"We're low on cups and spoons. Hup to, or I'm telling Kokuyo about the extra food you took home last night." Gen sing songs in mock cheer, waving Ginro off before he can retaliate.

The kitchen is heated— and not just in temperature— when Gen goes to relay his message to the blonde manning the flap top. "Kohaku, dear, we've got fourty menus down in the next ten minutes."

"Fuck. Do the hosts not know how to stagger? Fourty fucking-"

"Oh, I said fourty?" Gen looks up in mock thought. "No, Amrayllis said thirty."

"Amaryllis is in control at the stand?" Kohaku asks, her voice lowering down a few pegs. She flips a few different cuts of steak, and dresses a couple burger patties. "Thirty ain't so bad. I've got my D-1 team here tonight, so we'll be good. Thanks for the heads up." Kohaku decides with a newfound confidence and a canine-bearing smirk. Way to change her mood around. Gen will start name dropping pretty women more often.

The party of ten gets seated, greeted, and their drink orders down. Gen delivers the zero proof beverages to the table, swings by his others, and ends up at bar's well to wait for the rest of his drinks.

Ryusui is unfortunately not paying attention to his display screen, though, as he is flirting at the bar top with a group of elderly women sipping on espresso martinis.

"He's got to be so rich dude." Taiju laments, and a crowd starts forming around the well.

"Doesn't even need a bar back or a cocktail either." Yuzuriha adds.

Gen's heard enough of the Ryusui-hype, and groans, "If he's so amazing, then why am I seven minutes into my ticket?" He drums his fingers on the metal grate of the well, watching the tiny grains of salt and sugar vibrate.

"Ryu's just working his magic. Don't act like I don't see you flirting with your tables instead of running food." Ruri jokes.

"It's called charm. Charisma. And it sells- which is hard to do when it's been eight minutes on single pour of Michelob Ultra."  He projects the last sentence, in hopes that Ryusui will take a hint— or else Gen will get behind the bar himself.

Which, he really doesn't want to do, because Ryusui is very territorial about his bar (as if Nikki wasn’t scheduled there half the time.)

"Why don't you use your little tricks, psych major?" Ah, Senkuu's joined the crowd, too.

Gen leans into Senkuu's space, as an attempt to seem intimidating, "don't act like it doesn't work."

"Didn't say that. I saw you get Kohaku to cool down, even though you were definitely in the way in her kitchen. Hit her with the door in the face technique."

"So you did pay attention in general psych." Gen smiles, "one day, you'll grow up and make just as much money as me."

"Serving is hardly a science." Senkuu waves off, "I think people might even tip me more, because I don't bother them will all the upselling."

"Honey, they don't even know I'm upselling, that's the beauty of it. For example, I'll walk by a table with an appetizer already in hand, and offer to get some going for themselves. They'll be more inclined to order if they see someone else doing it."

Senkuu smirks. "So the only time you'll run your own food is to utilize social proof?"

"Precisely."

"Guys, sorry to interrupt, but your beers are losing head." Ryusui interjects, and Gen realizes the crowd has since dissapated (a common occurrence when he and Senkuu bicker). Like Ryusui has room to order him around when he took nine minutes to pour a damn beer. "Am I wrong?" He prods, tapping his bandage-clad fingers on the pint glass.

Gen ignores him with an eye roll. He goes for the cocktail straws, stirring the pint to get some foam back up top. "Point is, I've got a lot of tricks up my sleeve. If you ever want to make more money, feel free to give 'em a try." Senkuu quirks a sarcastic eyebrow, and Gen winks, before chucking the used straws onto Senkuu's tray, and whisking his way back onto the floor. 

After the party of ten is sent off with a birthday song, and majority of the floor has been cut, Gen heads back to the line to kill time with the other closers. "Sales?" Gen asks Senkuu unashamedly while he breaks down the beverage station.

"Fifteen."

"Ha! Eighteen." 

"You did have four more seats than me in today's rotation." Senkuu points out as he wipes down the dressing and salad bar.

Gen tuts, "excuses, excuses. I'm definitely breaking three hundred after tip out today." He smiles to himself, popping the tabs out of each spout.

"Ha!" Senkuu laughs, and Gen gives him a pointed look. "Sounds like you made just as much money as me, even with all your Freudian mumbo-jumbo. Told ya mind games don't work."

"They do." Gen scoffs, "I had shitty clientele; three hundred is amazing for the B. S. I had to deal with."

"Womp, womp; excuses, excuses." Senkuu mocks. "There's a reason why psychology isn't in STEM. It's pseudoscience." Gen knows that Senkuu knows that isn’t true, and that he’s just trying to push his buttons. It still irks him regardless.

"There is plenty of proof to show you otherwise and you know that."

"Want to test the theory?" Senkuu dunks rag into a sanitizer bucket, seemingly being done with the dressing bar.

"I do. Let's run a little experiment then, shall we?” Gen leans against the beverage station, folding his arms, “I'll serve my guests like you- blunt, ignores small children, forgets to ring in orders and tells them that. You’ll use my approach, and we'll see who makes the most money." Gen motions a hand out. “Deal?”

Senkuu smirks. Gen is mostly joking, but it’s too late. Senkuu never turns down an opportunity to learn something new, test a theory, what have you. “I’m gonna kick your ass— get excited.” Senkuu wipes his hand in his apron, before clapping his hand into Gen’s. “You’ve got a deal, psych major.”

The next weekend, Senkuu shows up... different. His hair is styled, in a half bun- half down sort of situation , he's wearing a button up instead of a t-shirt, and his face is... glowing?

"What's with your face?" Gen asks immediately, rising from his seat at the break station. Well, calling it a station is a bit generous. It’s a rickety table with two folding chairs, squished between the linens closet and manager’s office.

"Good evening to you too." Senku huffs, hanging up his messenger bag that threatens to burst open with notes at any moment.

Gen reaches out and taps Senkuu's face with the back of his hand, like a doting mother checking if her child has a fever. "Like a serum or toner or something?"

Senkuu jerks back slightly, not used to psychical touch, but around Gen enough to tolerate it. "Just lotion." He shrugs. How is that fair? Nevermind Gen's five step acne routine, curated by an online professional, Senkuu can make that much of a difference with just lotion?

"Do you not normally moisturize your face?"

"Nah." So not fair. He takes out a packed sandwhich from his bag, and the two settle into the break table.

"Your hair too, I'm impressed. You are really committing to this bet." Gen muses, talking a sip of his diet cola.

"It's an experiment," Senkuu corrects over a mouthful (there goes the brief bout of attractiveness), "of course I’m taking this seriously.”

Gen crinkles his nose, “I can’t believe I’m taking a pay cut to prove you wrong.” Not only had he agreed to forgo his usual “antics,” such as being charming, confident, and a great salesman, but Gen had also agreed to adhere to Senkuu’s methods.

“Just be real with them. Honesty’s refreshing.” He had said last week when ironing out the details of their experiment. It wasn’t that Senkuu didn’t lie— Gen’s seen him blame a guest for his own fuck-ups in order to get Tsukasa’s manager card without lecture— he just didn’t see the point in his wasting his energy if it wasn’t deemed necessary. If you asked Gen from a psychoanalytic perspective, though, Gen would tell you to refer to the DSM-5 for a proper diagnosis of Senkuu’s social inhibitions.

Senkuu wastes no time getting into the details of tonight’s trial, “What section are you in tonight? We need to keep track of the finer details to avoid any confounding variables.”

“B-two. Same as last week, so I have a good stat to compare tonight with.”

“I’m also in the same section, C-one. You have a faster rotation, whereas I could get stuck with all the larger parties.”

“Baseball game’s on tonight though, so maybe not. I already let Amaryllis know to try and keep things as even as possible between us tonight. If I get double sat, you will too.”

Senkuu scrunches his nose, “Urgh, you spaz out when you get doubled.”

Gen mocks shock, placing a hand on his chest. “Only because my introduction is longer than yours. You just go,” Gen gets up from the break table, takes a few steps back, and then wanders back up to Senkuu, pretending to hold his server book in hand. “Sup, guys. Can I get some drinks started for you?” He rasps in a lower voice, and Senkuu smiles, straightening up to match is energy.

“Hmmm,” Senkuu mock-ponders, “what do you have?” Gen has to remind himself that this is just a bit, and not real. But fuck does that question annoy him. They don’t print menus for show.

“We have everything listed on the back of our menu.”

“Specials?”

Gen nods his head to wall of employee reminders, OSHA paperwork, and recent guest surveys. “On the chalkboard over there.”

Senkuu directs an open palm at Gen, “See how much time and sanity you save by not listing the billion things we have?”

“Oh, it’s absolutely liberating, but I’m afraid it won’t sell.” Gen picks up his nearly empty glass of diet cola, and sucks the rest down. “I’m on in a few.”

“Same here.” Senkuu rises from his seat, stuffing the remnants of his sandwhich down. “Can you let the hosts know I’ll be on? I need to make sure I look pretty. ” He mocks, assumingely in reference to Gen’s incessant need to always look presentable.

“How sweet, you find me pretty.” Gen smiles. Senkuu just sticks his tongue out, heading towards the restrooms to get pretty.

They don’t get the opportunity to talk again for a while, Gen spending a ludicrously long time at the bar. Baseball games bring baseball fans, and baseball fans drink beer almost exclusively. He checked his stats on the POS a little while ago, and was disgruntled to find his alcohol sales higher than normal.

He had explained the full details of the bet to Ruri whilst they waited for Ryusui to do his damn job, dishing all times Gen had to hold his usual demeanor back.

“I feel like they all hate me.” He depresses. “My appetizer sales are crap, I’ve hardly had anyone upgrade their sides, and Kohaku yelled at me for not pushing the damn salmon. This bet is ass. ”

Ruri provides a small smile for reassurance, “To be fair, I don’t think Senkuu’s faring too well either. He’s been in the weeds all night.”

That was at least some good news. “Oh?” Gen brightens.

Ruri sighs, “My sister’s yelled at him like three times tonight. I haven’t seen him this stressed before, even during finals season.” Ugh, don’t mention finals season. Gen barely survived his midterms.

This could be good though, Senkuu might want to retract the bet, experiment, whatever this is. Gen’s sick of serving Senkuu style.

Things slow down a bit, and Gen tries to make himself busy (or at least look busy) by restocking and rearranging the to-go station. Senku bursts through the doors, a giant stack of menus threatening to topple over his tray, face beet-red.

“You’re looking worse for wear. See how hard my job is?”

Senkuu shoots daggers at Gen, who holds in his laughter. “And you don’t look busy. Can you ring in my six top for me?” Senkuu asks, but presents it like a demand. So bossy.

Gen takes Senkuu’s server book without question, and Christ, it is a mess. He’s fluent in Senkuu’s chicken scratch, but this is significantly worse, and Gen ends up hogging the POS for longer than usual, trying to make everything out correctly.

“Eighty-nine’s order is in. What’s the fuss about?” Gen asks when he returns Senkuu’s book to him at the drink station.

“Gag me and throw me into the walk-in to die a slow death.” Woah, okay, that’s dramatic. Especially for Senkuu.

“Sounds like a casual Friday night.” Gen jokes, but it doesn’t land. Senkuu stops pouring drinks and turns to Gen apprehensively. “What happened?”

“I got asked out." Senkuu grumbles.

Gen snorts, “That’s it? I get hit on all the time.”

“I don’t know how you deal with that, it’s cringey, and embarrassing.”

“Did you play along?” Senkuu reddens even more. This itself is wonderful Friday night entertainment.

“I’m playing by your rules tonight, remember?” Senkuu scrunches his nose, “I didn’t shut her down like I normally would. I played along like a sleaze and got her to order another margarita. Then she invited me to drink with her after the shift.”

“Still failing to see the problem with any of this. What do you normally do in these situations? Tell them you only fuck beakers and test tubes?” Gen amuses.

Senkuu reaches over to the syrups, pouring a few ounces of raspberry into a glass of cola. What an odd combo. “Haha, very funny. No, I just tell them I’m not into women. Then they feel bad and cut it out.”

Gen stares, narrowing his eyes.

“What?” Senkuu stares back, annoyance radiating off him.

“I didn’t know you were into anyone, period.” One thing about Senkuu, is that he can be really easy to read at times. If he isn’t verbally saying something, his body language is a dead giveaway. And Gen is fluent in silent communication. Take the way Senkuu’s left eyebrow raises when he’s excited, or how his hips sway when he’s feeling impatient, and that his hands only stop moving when his mind is silent- a rarity. But other times, Gen misses the mark completely.

And now Senkuu is red again, and Gen feels guilty for assuming someone’s sexuality, and now it’s awkward because none of them are saying anything—

“I’ve got brussels sprouts dying in the window!” Chrome calls from a few away, and oh thank fuck. Gen has never been so happy to run.

Gen points a thumb to the line. “I gotta-“

“Yeah.” Senkuu agrees, hauling up his tray of drinks, and they brush past each other to head in opposite directions.

By some sheer luck (or subliminal messaging and manipulation), Gen and Senkuu get cut simultaneously. This is perfect, as it eliminates the confounding variables that come with one being on the floor longer than the other. Amaryllis had done a great job of keeping things fairly even between the two of them so far. Gen will be sure to slide her some extra cash.

Gen's tables don't linger for long, and Senkuu brings "good news" as he's shutting down his section.

"Based on my cash tips, it looks like I had a bit of a shitty night." He grins.

Gen continues sweeping, "Never seen someone so happy to not make money. Haven't checked card?"

Senkuu shifts, placing his hands on his hips. "Nah, my one-oh-eight is still parked there."

Gen spares a glance across the dining room to Senkuu's sole table: a younger woman animatedly telling a story, and an older gentleman. Their attire tells Gen that they are affluent, far too much to be eating a place like this.

"They paid, I'm just waiting." The woman throws her hands down on the table dramatically, and the gentleman throws his head back. The bossa nova playing is too loud for Gen to hear him laugh. He looks back at Senkuu, who's staring expectantly.

"Why don't you just pickup the check? If you're curious as to what I would do: lie and say your manager's bugging you for your checkout."

Senkuu turns his head, loose strands of hair falling into his face (at least, more than normal). His attempt at a half-bun half-down was cute, but did not hold throughout the shift. He looked a bit of a mess, but still held a smile on his face as he eyed the table. Gen was wrong, he knew he would be— Senkuu isn’t a quitter, and would likely be seeing this bet through.

"According to the daughter, they haven't seen each other in a while."

Gen snorts, bringing the broom in closer to his frame, curling up around it like a cat. "You feeling sentimental?"

Senkuu looks back at him, "Something like that.” He schools his expression, dopey grin turning into an ambitious one, “Now back to business. How'd you do?"

"Below average." Gen shrugs. "Not detrimentally worse— it is still me waiting at the end of the day— but not good either."

"I definitely did worse. One billion percent out of my element."

"I saw. You were in the weeds bad. Did you know I had to get Ginro to grab ice for you?" Gen picks the broom back up, swatting at Senkuu's nonslips to convey his mock annoyance.

Senkuu's groans. "That's what it's like working with you every day. "

"No way, you were on a whole 'nother level. You cashed in all your favors with Kohaku within the first hour of being on the floor. Ryusui had to bug me to run your milkshakes because they were dying in the well, and Kinro had to start a two-tops drink order because they were waiting too long to be serviced.”

Senkuu nods, taking the jabs into stride. He picks at his ear in thought. “Very observant. Tonight was one-trillion percent ass, no doubt about that.” He laughs, “but, I think I’ll get the hang of things. Your style of service has a completely different flow to it. Very… individualized for each table.” He concludes, but Gen can tell that the gears are still turning in Senkuu’s head. “Regardless, I had fun.”

Such a masochist. The two of them are similar in that they find joy in pressure, adversity, and copious amounts of cortisol production.

“I most certainly had more fun than you did. Most of it was from watching you crash and burn, but getting a break from carrying this place’s sales on my shoulders was nice. Like a vacation, almost.” Gen notices Senkuu’s table beginning to rise.

“I’ll remember that next time you ask me to trade sidework.” Senkuu teases, and wanders over to his table to bid them one last set of thank you’s and goodbyes.

Gen, Senkuu, Kohaku, and Chrome all meet for drinks at the bar after close. Ryusui can be kind, in that he’ll ring in their drinks before last call, and doesn’t mind letting the other employees linger at the bar after closing. He sets them up at a corner booth, then disappears to the back for some liquor restocks.

“Senkuu,” Kohaku starts, taking a swig of her lager, “for all the B. S. you put me through, did you at least do decently tonight?”

Senkuu smiles. He had waited to report his final results to Gen until now. They each agreed to take percentages of tips in relation to gross sales, and compare those percentages to previous Friday nights.

“Keep in mind, it’s only day one of Gen and I’s experiment, but I can proudly say, that I saw an average decrease of three percent in today’s tips in comparison to the previous five weeks.”

Kohaku and Chrome’s mouths go agape.

“What,” Chrome scoffs, “the goal was to make less money?”

“We’re proving that each other’s approach of service is less effective.” Senkuu puts it simply.

The two cooks are immediately on Senkuu, complaining about dropping extra food and giving special accommodations for something so stupid.

Gen takes this as his opportunity to speak up, leaning towards Senkuu admist all the yelling. “Hate to break it to you, honey, but you lost today. I did worse.”

“Talk dirty to me.” Senkuu smiles.

“Four point two percent decrease. Sucker.” Gen winks, and lifts up his mai tai glass to take a delicate sip.

“You guys are acting so smug, but you’re losing money. Why bother with the tips relative to yourselves when you can just compare tip percentages between each other?"

Chrome makes a good point. Great point, even. Gen is almost certain that his normal tip percentage is higher than Senkuu’s.

Kohaku finishes her beer, and punches a burp out of her chest. “Pardon me, but you two are fucking weird. Chrome’s right, you could have saved yourselves, and us, the trouble.”

“But that’s no fun.” Senkuu pouts. Gen tosses an arm around his shoulders.

“Look at this face.” Gen squishes Senkuu’s cheeks with his other hand, “telling a nerd he can’t perform experiments is like clipping an angel’s wings.” Senkuu’s face fights the grip of Gen’s fingers, attempting to make a look of disgust.

“There is a bright side to this, Kohaku.” Chrome points out, “I only had to see Gen’s face like three times this shift.” Scoff.

“True.” Kohaku nods adjusting her bandana (seeing her in an actual chef's hat is a rarity), “You were exponentially less annoying, today, Gen.” She jabs, using a nasal tone at the word exponentially.

Gen draws back from Senkuu’s personal bubble, bringing his hands atop his heart. “My dear Kohaku, you’re too sweet.”

They laugh at Gen’s theatrics, and divulge into other endeavors of conversation. Kohaku takes shots at Chrome’s childhood crush on her sister, and the two argue about that for a while. It reminds Gen of a recent research paper he did on love and attraction for his research methods of psychology class; he gives Chrome some tips he learned from it. Senkuu supplies some biological mumbo-jumbo to support Gen’s advice, not knocking Gen’s field of study for once.

Ryusui bugs them for the tab after a while, and Kohaku covers it, despite insisting that she’s still mad at the two servers. (She usually covers the tab, being the owner’s daughter and all. Working at a non-corporate restaurant has its perks.)

Kohaku and Chrome get picked up by Ruri, who had been cut earlier than them, and Gen offers Senkuu a ride back to their campus.

“You don’t have to pity me for taking the bus, you know.” Senkuu reminds him as they trek across the parking lot.

Gen slides into the drivers seat of his shit box, “I made less than you, and if I give you a ride, you’ll owe me gas money-"

“Yeah, yeah, you just like the company.” Senkuu cuts off, making himself right at home in the passenger, kicking his feet up on the dash and everything.

Gen does like company. Senkuu and him sometimes meet up outside of work to study in the library (Senkuu brain dumps, Gen scrolls on his phone and half listens), and Gen has made plenty of friends on campus, but college is a bit lonely. He is the type of person to go stir crazy without something to do, and even if it’s putting on a facade for others— it’s company nonetheless.

Senkuu is, yet again, similar to him in that aspect. He spends a lot of time alone calculating things and doing research Gen couldn’t understand if he tried, but is more social than he realizes, despite the deviance.

“Fine.” Gen agrees, starting up his car. “What hall do you live in again?”

“Goddard.” Of course.

Gen snorts, “Fitting.”

“Full-ride gave me first priority in the dorms.” Senkuu gloats, looking outside the window.

“No,” Gen adjusts the A. C. in his car to blast a little stronger, “there is no such thing as dorm priority for undergrads. That’s just nepotism.”

He doesn’t realize until after he says it, but Gen might’ve touched a nerve there. Making a joke at Senkuu’s dead father’s expense might have been a bit of a dick move. Should he play dumb and act like he forgot? Start apologizing and throwing up all over himself? That’s dramatic.

“Sorry.” Gen settles on. Senkuu snorts.

“For what?”

“That was mean.”

Senkuu turns toward him, usual smirk adorning his face as Gen slows down at a red light. It nearly matches the ruby in Senkuu’s eyes.

“Hardly so. You said my capstone thesis sounded like it was written by A.I. That stung far worse than any dead dad joke.” Senkuu did throw a huge fit over that, complaining that being articulate shouldn’t matter when the research was concise and informative.

“At least I could read your thesis. Why on God’s green Earth would you hand write a thesis with your chicken scratch?”

“Handwriting is far better for storing working information into long-term, you should know that.”

“I do know that.” Gen pouts. They fall back into the flow of throwing jabs and teases at each other, and they’re pulling up to Senkuu’s building in no time. One of the joy’s of working service— not having to drive during rush hour.

“You on tomorrow?” Senkuu asks, slinging his messenger back over his shoulder.

“When am I not on Saturday nights?” Gen complains, “God forbid I have a social life.”

“Service is your social life. See you tomorrow, psych major.” Senkuu shuts the door, and Gen watches him retreat towards his building. Senkuu fumbles with his key card for a moment, and gives Gen a small wave before disappearing inside.

Saturday night, Senkuu comes in with a ponytail, and, holy shit— cologne on. A monumental step forward for a S.T.E.M. major. Kaseki gasses him up; Sapphire and Ruby shower him with compliments. Gen can practically see his head growing bigger in size, even if he doesn’t realize the girls are hitting on him.

The night goes on steadily: Chrome’s on expo, it being Kohaku’s night off, Nikki and Ukyo are in the bar, and Kinro has been bussing extra efficiently tonight. Gen avoids sidework, paying Ryusui (who is on the floor today) ten bucks to keep up with cups for him.

Senkuu seems to be doing better— everyone has smaller sections on Saturday’s, as they typically have twice the bookings as last night.

Magma calls Gen out for slacking, so he retreats to the cooler for a restock (an excuse to check his phone). Senkuu end up catching him in the right wing of the cooler, and Gen jumps at the surprise.

“Jesus! I thought you were Kokuyo.” Gen shrieks.

“Nah, I might need your help though. Do you know how to switch the kegs?” Senkuu asks, nodding his head toward the keg room.

“Do I look like a bartender to you?”

“You look like someone with nothing to do. It’s the Octoberfest keg, but it’s on the upper shelf.”

Gen stares, why can’t literally anyone else do it? He and Senkuu ware likely the worst people to handle physical labor in the entire restaurant. Except for maybe Ginro, but that is still a close call.

Senkuu reads his mind, “Hosts said they need a fast turnover, so Magma and Kinro need to be on the floor. Ukyo and Nikki are slammed with waitlistees in the bar.”

“And the boss?”

“Hiding in the office, duh.”

Gen groans. “Fine.” Senkuu gives a thumbs up, and they make their way to the keg room. It’s only a few degrees cooler than the walk in, but the difference is noticeable in the way Gen’s arm hairs stand up.

“Can you keep the ladder steady?” Gen asks.

Senkuu nods, squeezing the stepping stool between two kegs for support. Gen scales the steps slowly, and luckily it’s only a sixth barrel that they need. Still, who in their right mind would keep this up on a shelf?

“Tilt it over the side slightly. Too much momentum and you’ll be hitting the tile.”

“How reassuring.” Gen strains, nudging the keg off the shelf. He slowly gets it into Senkuu’s outstretched hands, who insists that he’s got it. The weight takes Senkuu by surprise, and his arms fly down like a cartoon character holding an anvil. “So strong.” Gen jokes, glad he isn’t in the bar. The first few pours from the keg are one billion percent going to be all foam.

Gen carefully attempts to step down— keyword attempts— but the temperature must have given the metal steps a of frosty coat. In short, he nearly eats shit. Senkuu barely catches him, hands holding awkwardly at Gen’s waist, as he takes a few steps back. Luckily, no heads hit the tile, but they are sandwiched between aisles of kegs.

“You good?” Senkuu checks after they regain their balance, breath fogging in the cold. Gen can see Senkuu's— whose hands are still at Gen’s waist— lashes beginning to frost. He finally catches whiff of Senkuu's cologne. It smells like some cheap Axe body spray a newly pubescent teen would buy.

“Yup, all good.” Gen forces a laugh, giving Senkuu an awkward pat on the shoulder. Gen’s usually the initiator of physical contact, but Senkuu is holding him in a provocative manner, so he’s a bit flustered. Maybe even touch-starved. Senkuu lets go of him with a frown, and they get the keg situation worked out.

"Get me your manager." Fuck. How does Senkuu get away with this? The other gentleman, who'd be quite the silver fox if he wasn't so rude, folds his arms in disgust.

"Right away, sir." Gen says, pulling on an apologetic look, and gives a slight head bow. He whisks away to the line, which is beyond overcrowded.

Surveying the line, Gen debates his best course of action. He'd somehow forgotten to ring his fourty-five's shrimp cocktail platter in before the meals, and by the time he realized it, Ruri was already running the entree's out.

Big deal, people make mistakes. However, this table of five was a bit on the older side, a part of a generation who prefer old fashioned methods of service. Where Gen would normally advert the blame elsewhere ( the kitchen was not satisfied with the quality of the shrimp, so they are skinning a fresh batch for you, we will offer a free desert to compensate for the inconvenience ), he selected the option the blonde typically would ( I forgot, whoops ).

Wrong choice, clearly. Kokuyo makes an appearance onto the line, and it's either him, or Tsukasa. He's sure he could bribe Kaseki into playing manager, but the kitchen is too slammed for that. Gen decides to go with Kokuyo, as he's only checking sales on the POS to look busy, and Tsukasa's frowning at the kitchen's display screen.

"Hey boss!" Gen greets, feigning cheerfulness. "My fourty-five was hoping to have a word with you- whenever you have time, no rush." He smiles.

Kokuyo's eyebrows raise in question. "Do we anticipate our guests to leave a positive comment, or...?"

"Ah, I'm afraid not. You see-"

"I'll handle this, just do me a favor and help Tsukasa get this food out." Kokuyo interrupts, whisking away to Gen's section.

Gen drops his head and sulks over to the expo line, and Tsukasa gives him an apprehensive look. "What'd you do?"

"Minor mishap, boss is already on it." Gen taps a tray with a ticket underneath, "this all set to go?"

"Holding. Their starter salads just went out." Tsukasa trays up another ticket, "I've got ninety-eight's entrees ready, though. Think you'll need a follow?" Gen peers over the six entree's— two ahi tuna's, a ceaser salad, lobster platter, tuscan salmon, and a kid's cheeseburger.

Gen wordlessly shakes his head, shifting the tray off the line and placing half the weight onto his hand, and the other half onto his shoulder. He can feel the toll it takes on his spine as he kicks past the doors and out onto the floor.

After dishing the food out with a smile, Gen anxiously returns to the line, where a disappointed Kokuyo waits for him.

"What's the verdict?" He attempts to joke, but only gets a snort from Ryusui.

"You made a reasonable mistake, but I'm a little confused about your... recovery methods. The guests told me you said," Kokuyo wipes his forehead, "oops, I forgot."

Even Tsukasa has to cover his mouth from indicating his amusement with the situation. Gen just shifts his weight awkwardly.

"I've been attempting a new style of service."

"Yeah, Senkuu's." Nikki chimes in. Where did she come from?

"No offense to Senkuu, he's an incredibly bright young man-" Kokuyo starts, being careful to not insult one of his employee's. “But…”

"Why would you want to do that? You're typically in our top three when it comes to sales and guest satisfaction." Tsukasa chimes in. Go back to food running!

"They made a bet." Ryusui offers, when Gen says nothing. Dick . Then the blonde is back out onto the floor, leaving Gen to explain.

Thankfully, Kokuyo decides he doesn't care, and comps half their check, while also chastising Gen for not putting the guest experience first. This seems to please his table, and Senkuu, who rubs salt into the wound when they meet up on the patio after the shift.

"Looks like we ought to put this to rest, psych major." Senkuu suggests, throwing his apron over his shoulder.

"Never thought I'd see the day you'd give up on an experiment. But alas, I have to say I agree." They both take a seat, the patio having been closed hours ago, half-off employee meals hot and ready in front of them.

Senkuu tears into his mashed potatoes, "To be frank, the variables we were looking at were unclear and flimsy at best. Shitty sample size— which was completely unrepresentative by the way— all sorts of problems. Wouldn't be approved by anyone, really." He licks his fork clean before moving on to the asparagus— a habit Gen'd picked up on, not letting his food experience any cross-contact.

"True. Chrome was right, we should've just compared tips with each other." Gen sighs woefully.

"I one-billion-percent do not need to know how much you normally make." Senkuu smirks. It was kind of an unspoken rule in the service industry to not tell your coworkers the exact dollar amount you make. Vague statements were fine, Gen's complained plenty of times about "not breaking one-hundred dollars" on slow nights, but it was common courtesy to not get too specific. Gen knows that Senkuu knows which one of them makes more, though.

Gen cuts up some of his ahi tuna— it looked good earlier— "I also pay for my own school, out of pocket."

"You're too rich for financial aid, boo-hoo." Senkuu mocks. "I did get some valuable information these past thirty-one hours."

"Which is?" Gen quirks an eyebrow. Senkuu sets his fork down and holds up three fingers.

"You're job sucks." One finger down, "I will never flirt with a table again," another, "and you definitely have time to get ice and stack cups, you're just a baby about it." Senkuu wags his remaining pointer finger at him.

"That's four things." Gen points out after taking a bite, covering his mouth with his hand. "And sure, it is tiring, putting on a show, always going the extra mile when you really don't need to, but I'm good at it."

"That you are, psych major."

"Giving me my flowers for once?" Gen amuses, and Senkuu rolls his eyes. "Don't act like you're not leagues ahead of me in school. Restaurant definitely isn't for you, but you're literally working on ground breaking science-y stuff— as an undergrad."

Senkuu scrunches his nose, attempting to look grossed out, but Gen can see the smile in his eyes and his ears go pink. He also notices that Senkuu's picking at his button up cuffs, "I one-million-percent like it better when you're being mean."

"Don't lie, I can see your head inflating. You enjoy the praise."

"You work brunch tomorrow?" Senkuu switches the subject, and Gen laughs inwardly for flustering him.

"I don't come till noon. You?"

"I open. Chrome tells me Suika's stopping by in the morning."

"Your little prodigè." Gen laments. He, like the rest of the staff, has a soft spot for Suika. However, she seems to be most fond of Senkuu, frequently asking him questions about school and offering to help with his projects. Gen can tell Senkuu sees a bit of himself in her— curious, daring, shy at times, hungry for a challenge at others.

They fall into a comfortable silence while they finish eating, Gen wondering what Senkuu was like as a kid. Probably really annoying, a know-it-all kid for sure.

Gen offers a ride home again, but Senkuu declines, saying he has plans to study with Chrome once he's done closing the kitchen.

"I guess it's back to the same-old same-old tomorrow?" Gen asks as Senkuu walks him to his car. Such a gentleman, he must've really learned from Gen.

"We'll see about that, psych major."

"Ugh, sounds like you have something devious planned."

Senkuu, laughs, and Gen catches him fumbling with his cuffs again. "When don't I?"

Cue the eye roll. "Good night, Senkuu dear." He bids with mock sweetness.

"Night, Gen."

Gen shows up to work on Sunday a few minutes late. Maybe it was karma, for everything he's done wrong in life, deciding to cash all its chips in, but his morning was absolutely shitty.

For one, his on-campus apartment ran out of hot water. Whatever, he can deal. Then the fire alarm went off. Mid shower. So Gen had to stand outside his apartment, half naked, while he waited for fire fighters and campus officers to show up— all for it to be a false alarm.

For two, when Gen finally got to finish getting clean, he found his work clothes still half-soaked in the dryer. He had to make a choice, to go through the nightmare of wearing damp clothes, or finding his old uniform. Which ended up being a few sizes too small. Whatever, he can work with that.

For three, all the escapades hadn't allowed him to cook breakfast. So his hand shook from low blood sugar when he attempted to put on makeup, and he ended up looking like shit, and decided to just forgo it all together. Sure, he let a few tears escape as he scrubbed his face clean, but Gen can manage.

By some force of God or the universe, just in spite of Gen, there was traffic. On a Sunday fucking morning. So, he was a few minutes late.

Kokuyo immediately saw the look on Gen's face when he entered the restaurant through the side door, and thankfully, didn't question it. Ryusui, however, was not shy to let him know that he "looked rough." Gen flipped him the bird, to which Ryusui just blew a kiss in response.

Deep breaths, in for four, hold for four, out for six, Gen repeats in his head like a mantra, attempting to fix himself straight as much as possible in the back before he got his first table. Maybe he could just lie and say his grandma died (she did— eleven years prior) or cry in the linens closet, then leave and never return. But he had rent to pay, and sure his family was well-off, but they had cut him off months ago, so he needed this job. Tears begin to prick at the corners of Gen's eyes, and now his apron isn't tying on right-

"Hey," Gen gets snapped— literally, Senkuu's snapping his fingers in front his face like a dog— out of his stupor, "you got sat. I had Francois start them with drinks."

Oh, Senkuu. It's a shame Gen is mid-spiral, otherwise he'd take a dig at how bad Senkuu is at providing comfort.

"Thanks, sorry, I'll be right out." Gen's voice hardly trembles— the cocktail of working in service and a dash of childhood trauma will teach you to school yourself like that— but Senkuu picks up on it, and his frown of annoyance turns into... worry? Or, what looks like confusion?

"Hey, hey." Senkuu grabs him by the shoulders. It shocks Gen a little, having him initiate contact. "I know you just got on, but take a ten, psych major. Don't forget we've got your back." Gen still wants to cry, and he hates that anyone at work is seeing him truly shaken up like this, but in this moment, he's really fucking grateful.

"Okay." He nods, exhaling a sharp breath through his nose. Senkuu smiles and wanders off, and Gen catches a glimpse at his hair do, despite having called the bet off. French braids.

The ten minutes Senkuu had bought for him were a godsend. Gen knows it might seem ridiculous for someone like him to get so worked up— you're a psych major, just read your notes — but ten minutes of breath retraining and relaxation practice is all he needs to center himself somewhat back to normal. His skin still crawls at how tight his jeans feel, and not having any product on his acne-prone face nags at him, but he carries on, jumping right into brunch service with no problems.

Gen feels right at home, falling into his normal rhythms he had missed the past few days. He stops by Suika, who's doing homework at a table in Ruri's section, close to the kitchen.

"Gen!" Suika pulls at the fringe of her winter hat excitedly, "Did you hear that I'm moving on to the state level science fair?"

She never fails to make Gen smile. "I haven't, but I take it your citrus battery experiment wowed everyone?" Gen takes a seat at her booth, far away enough from his own section not to see.

"You wouldn't believe it! They said I was doing a high-school level project." Suika smiles, glossy eyes more apparent with her circular frames.

"Probably a higher level than me."

"But you're a grown up?"

"Exactly."

"Well, Senkuu said he did the same project with his dad when he was five-" Suika begins to lament, eyes casting down onto one of her worksheets.

"Senkuu doesn't count, he's an outlier." Gen dismisses with a hand wave. Shame on you, Senkuu, let the girl have her moment.

"An outlier?" Suika tilts her head.

"Something or someone that is very different than the rest of the population."

"Is it bad to be an outlier?"

Gen smiles, reaching out to ruffle her hat, "never, Suika." Suika huffs in irritation, readjusting her hat and bangs. “To me, it means you’re special.” He affirms, before disappearing to the back.

Chrome and Kohaku are commanding the kitchen behind the line, calling out orders and asking for ETA’s. Sunday brunch typically sees a stacked kitchen staff, with Sunday regulars bringing the pickier crowds.

“This is missing avocado— no, I know it’s not rang in, she didn’t tell me ‘till later, so I rang it in on the side— yes, the side in Kaseki’s hand right now.” Ryusui argues over the line, impatiently waiting for his food to be corrected. Gen avoids the line like the plague, not wanting to get caught in the crosshairs. Instead, he beelined to the dish pit to stack some cups, doing his own side work for once.

“Hey, Gen, how’s it going?” Carbo half yells over the cacophony of the kitchen and dish pit.

“Doing alright. Didn’t you close last night?” Gen asks, and his eye catches a sixty-four ounce red bull hidden beneath the sink.

“Ah, yes. They’ve got me doing clo-pens on weekends while we look for a new dishwasher.”

Gen frowns at that— not cool, Kokuyo. “Hopefully they find one soon. I’ll bring you a coffee next weekend if they don’t.” He promises, and leaves with a stack of cups before Carbo can protest. They say caffeine is the key to the back of house’s heart.

“Wow.” Senkuu draws out when Gen returns to the line with his fresh rack, feigning surprise.

“Oh, shut it. Ryusui’s too busy at the moment. I’m taking it out of his tip.”

“Harsh. You say that like it’s his job to do your sidework.”

“I pay him handsomely. As I will Francois for covering for me.” Gen flicks his wet hands to the side, attempting to rid them of the sanitizer.

Senkuu sets his tray down beside the beverage station, folding his arms. “No, don’t do that. Francois did a favor for you.”

Gen matches his energy, setting his hands on his hips defensively. “Favors have a price tag too, whether it goes acknowledged or not.”

Senkuu snorts sarcastically, “You keep telling yourself that.”

This is not the kind of conversation Gen wishes to have to right now— a philosophic debate between a monist and scientist— no thank you. “Stopped by Suika earlier.” Gen switches gears.

“She kicked ass.” Senkuu quickly adapts, arms relaxing at their sides, the vein in his forehead disappearing beneath his skin. “Suika’s gonna have the best project in the nation.”

“Ambitious. But fair. You seem proud.”

“I am.” Senkuu shrugs, playing coy. “I hardly had to do as much as help her find materials and the initial idea. In turn, I let her play Barbie with me this morning.” Senkuu flips one of his French braids with a tilt of his head.

I told you, every favor has a price— eye for an eye! Gen doesn’t say. Instead, he fawns over Suika’s work. “I knew there was no way you did this on your own. She made you a S.T.E.M. Barbie, just missing your lab coat and beaker.” Senkuu rolls his eyes.

“Aerospace engineering. I’m an aerospace engineering Barbie.” Senkuu corrects, lifting up his pointer finger.

Gen snorts at Senkuu’s seriousness. “Never hear of her, must’ve been discontinued for lack of sales.”

“Har, har. Kohaku’s staring daggers at you.” Senkuu nods his chin at the expo line, and goes to grab a kid’s size drink of water. Gen tosses a glance, and Kohaku is indeed sending a gaze that says, don’t let this food get cold, at him. “No red tickets, psych major.”

Gen tuts. “Don’t be bitter. I’d buy your doll.” He turns toward the kitchen, and smirks he hears Senkuu choke on his water at the drink station.

“If I get any food sent back for being cold…" Kohaku starts, and Gen nods.

“Sorry, sorry. We were having an important discussion.” Gen reassures, traying up the food for one of his four-tops.

“You should be sorry, because that was a sorry excuse for flirting.” Kohaku wiggles her eyebrows, and turns to call out an ETA for a Salisbury steak for table sixty-four.

Gen blinks— excuse me?

“What? Go run your food.” Kohaku urges, less angry, clearly amused with Gen’s stupor.

“Yes ma’am.” When Gen briefly passes by Senkuu with a tray on his shoulder, he notes a few observations.

“Alrighty,” He greets to his table with a smile. “Pardon my reach, we have the Shrimp scampi here for the young lady.”

Pink ears.

“Small bites tenders- no salt on the fries for the little man.”

Hand furiously picking at the cuffs of his button up.

“Chicken tacos for the misses.”

A toothy grin, showing his canines— the one he flashes when he’s being challenged.

“And a Cobb salad for the gentleman. Would we care for any ketchup or extra napkins?” His table collectively shakes their heads, and the burly man, who is presumably the father, thanks him. “My pleasure, enjoy.” He finishes with a slight head nod.

Gen has a flirty personality, everyone knows that. Not as much as Ryusui, who qualifies as a grade-a horn dog, but he teases. It’s gets him places, it gets him favors, and makes him money, but he also does it for sheer love of the game. To gage reactions, to provide insight, to peel back hard exteriors.

Everyone knows this, so Gen never thought anyone in his immediate life would take it as serious romantic interest. Much less Senkuu, of all people. Judging by Kohaku’s comment, she must have perceived his light teasing as flirting as well. Or maybe it was an off-handed jab on her part? Regardless, Senkuu was definitely exhibiting tell-tale behaviors of flustered-ness.

Gen would definitely need to look into this further, if he wanted to avoid any misconceptions or awkwardness. An experiment, if you will , to be sure.

A Senkuu like voice rings in Gen’s head as he greets his new table— telling him to get excited…

…or not.

Over the course of the brunch rush, Gen tries a few tricks to gain some sort insight. Like "Plucking an eyelash" off of Senkuu's face— no reaction, just a thumbs up. Gen makes an innuendo when Senkuu asks how they stuff their chicken. Blank stare. Gen even gushes about how his table twenty-two, a literal gaggle of nerds with their computers out, are just his type. That one Senkuu doesn't even listen to. He just gets an excited look from Ryusui, eager to make a table touch there.

So Kohaku was just teasing. Gen should have known, Senkuu was too socially dense to pick up on anything— intentional or not. His earlier reaction was still gnawing at Gen’s skin, though. Was it just a coincidence? Did Gen piss him off? Was Gen’s old uniform so tight that it might be cutting off the blood flow to his brain, causing him to stroke out due to lack of oxygen? Maybe.

"I think I'm done with experiments." Gen whines to Senkuu at the drink station.

"Can you pour a sweet tea for me?" Senkuu slides a glass of ice his way, and Gen obliges. "We agreed to call it off last night, what's with the dramatics now?" Senkuu amuses.

"I've had enough of the scientific method."

"The scientific method is the basis of all psychological research. That's like trying to make methyl bromide without carbon." He says oh-so-matter-of-factly.

"Your science talk is cute and all, but I'm trying to complain." Gen huffs.

"Oh. Okay." Senkuu says, motioning for Gen to continue. He's opens his mouth to say that he's sick of being proved wrong, but it dies in his throat. Senkuu turns back to his drinks, hues of pink climbing up from his neck, to the tips of his ears.

That got him to crack? Gen’s going to kill himself, this is just ridiculous.

“I have desserts to ring in.” Gen lies, and crosses over to the POS. He just stares at his sales— twenty-one thousand, not bad — while thinking of what to do next. He has twenty minutes left until his relief arrives for the evening service. Majority of his tables are going to be wrapping up soon, so Gen decides to look busy in the walk-in.

He checks the first in, first outs of the dressings. All good. They probably need more lemons on the line. Gen briefly exits the chill of the walk-in  to grab a tub and tongs, then re-enters to mindlessly portion pre-cut lemons. Kohaku runs into him, grabbing some restocks before they do their evening line check.

“Kohaku, dear, can I ask you a silly question?” He starts, and Kohaku smiles.

“Shoot.”

Gen selects his words carefully, trying  his best not incriminate anyone, or himself. “Do you reckon anyone takes my flamboyant and flirtatious personality too seriously? As in, perceive it as actual romantic interest?”

Kohaku exhales a puff of air, pausing with a fry sack over her shoulder. She never uses the cart, always insisting she can carry everything on her own. “No one I can say for sure. Why, is Ryusui trying to put the moves on you again?” She jokes.

“No, Ukyo’s been his recent victim as of late. I think he kind of enjoys the attention, though.” Gen smiles, wiping away the memory of Ryusui shamelessly asking him out in front of everyone from his mind. The overly confident blonde was handsome, but no, god no.

“Okay. Why’d ya ask then?”

“Just curious. I don’t want to give anyone a wrongful impression. I’m just here to make ends meet.”

“Sure, sure. The late night drinks after shift, the rides home, taking breaks together, all for the money.” Kohaku chides, shaking her head. Is she referring to his time spent Senkuu? She does know something, then.

“Precisely.” Gen gives her the win for now. He’ll find another angle.

“Just do me a favor,” Kohaku grunts, face now fully obstructed by boxes and bags. “And drop the act.” She turns to her side, so she can look Gen in the eyes. “You’re allowed to care about people here, y’know. Now open the door for me.”

Gen opens the walk in, and as the door is nearly shut, he childishly calls out, “I know about you and Amaryllis!” He smiles when he hears some boxes drop to the floor on the other side, along with a muffled “motherfucker!”

Still, the results of that talk were… abysmal.

To conclude the epic of events that were today, Gen sought confirmation from the source.

“Would you care for a ride?” Gen offers to Senkuu, who’s sat at a bench an odd fifty-feet from the patio, likely waiting for his bus.

“You sure? I didn’t give you gas money last time. What happened to eye for an eye?” He smirks, stray hairs flowing in the wind.

“For your help this morning.” Gen lies.

Senkuu rolls his eyes. “No.” He look out onto the street.

“What, you’d rather take a forty minute ride with strangers and no air conditioning?”

“This isn’t the fifties, buses have A.C.”

“Well, your luxurious ride doesn’t come for another fifteen minutes anyhow.”

“I enjoy waiting. Gives me time to plan my week.”

Gen groans, “You’re so stubborn. Fine. I’m heading home, and if you would like a ride, I’d enjoy the company.” He forces out.

Senkuu perks up, turning back to him with a smile. “I’d love to, show me the way, psych major.”

“Ugh.”

They ride in relative silence for the first ten minutes for so. Gen only speaks up when Senkuu takes out his braids.

“You’re just gonna undo all of Suika’s hard work like that?”

“Pfft. It took her, like, five minutes. My hair’s barely long enough, they were falling apart.”

“Shame.” Gen shakes his head. “They looked nice.” He tosses a glance at Senkuu after stopping at a red light. His blonde hair, dyed darker on the ends, is curlier than usual. Two locks fall into his face, likely from habit. The rest of his hair frames his face, sharp features— perky nose, strong jawline, angular cupid’s bow— meet soft, round eyes— ruby red, a rarity Gen’s only ever seen on Senkuu (and albino rabbits).

Senkuu’s ears go pink, and a car honks behind them. “S’green.” Senkuu points out, voice soft. Gen turns back to the road, slamming down on the accelerator to make up for his daze.

Holy shit. Senkuu’s attractive. Gen rambles about fuck-knows-what to fill the silence the rest of the drive home, unsure of what to do with that. He’s always been handsome, objectively. His know-it-all mentality, stubbornness, and nerdy expressions often distract people from that fact, but Senkuu is good-looking, always has been. It’s hardly hitting Gen now, though, that he finds himself physically attracted to Senkuu.

Which throws a wrench in his plan of confronting Senkuu, like, today.

Like, right now, as Gen pulls into the university’s parking lot.

They sit in silence, again, as Gen stops talking complaining about homework loads and thesis.

“Senkuu. Have I been flirting with you?”

The blond guffaws. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I think I have.”

Senkuu raises his left brow, “you think so.”

“What I mean is— I’m trying to figure that out. I just wanted to see how you have perceived things between us as of late.” Gen cringes internally. He’s usually much better at saying the right things.

“I think.” Senkuu leans forward, propping his elbow up on the armrest, holding his head in his hand. “That you haven’t noticed I’ve been flirting with you.” Senkuu smiles coyly.

“Oh.”

“Would I be right in that assumption?”

“Yes.” Gen nods, narrowing his eyes at his… friend? Colleague? “How?”

“I just leaned into your usual antics. Clearly didn’t work though.” Senkuu laughs, like he’s brushing off a minor mistake on a worksheet, or a spilt drink.

“Should have been more forward, like you usually are.” Gen pouts.

“And as for your question, no, you have not been flirting with me. I know that’s just how you are. You just… surprise me from time to time. I didn’t say anything because frankly, you would have freaked out. I figured I’d ease into a confession, or whatever.” Senkuu shrugs, still maintaining eye contact.

“A confession of…?” Gen prods, stomach dropping.

Senkuu exhales through his nose, “I have a romantic interest in you, Gen.” He throws up two hands quickly, “You don’t have to say anything, or go through the awkwardness of rejecting me. I’m not hurt.” He says earnestly. Count on Senkuu to treat a confession so casually.

“I’m not… saying no. But I’m not saying yes?” Gen sighs. “Look, I’ve had a weird day. Can we just table this for a bit, I’ll sort my head out, and I’ll let you know. Not in the fuck-boy I’ll let you know but I’m really rejecting you way—“

“Gen, no pressure.” Senkuu interrupts. “I get it. I didn’t wake up one day and just make the decision to have a crush on you.” the word “crush” sounds silly coming out of Senkuu’s mouth. “But… is it because of the time you saw me passed out over the toilet at Ruri’s?”

The memory of a drunken Senkuu, unconscious on the tile floor of Ruri’s bathroom after a few too many drinks cracks Gen up. He is also very grateful for Senkuu’s potty humor, cutting the tension in Gen’s car in half.

“You saw me snot-nosed and crying with no make up this morning,” Gen covers his eyes, “I couldn’t be one to talk.”

“Would it be corny to tell you that you’re beautiful without it?” Okay, smooth talker. Gen didn’t say it was a yes…

“Please don’t, I’ll vomit too.” Gen lies.

“Noted.” Senkuu smiles, the red traveling from his ears to his cheeks. He clasps his hands together. “Well, this has been sufficiently awkward. I will you see you… Friday?”

“Friday.”

“Okay.” Senkuu grabs his bag off the floor, cracking the door open before turning back to Gen, “Thanks for the ride, and not being a dick about all this. Later.” He slams the door shut, waves, and Gen feels like he can finally exhale properly.

Thursday night, Gen meets up with Chrome and Kohaku to “study.” Without Senkuu around to keep them on track (he had roped Yuzuriha and Taiju to be guinea pigs for some test), their version of studying quickly devolves into a gossiping session. This time, however, Gen was at the forefront of scrutiny.

“Kohaku, he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.” Chrome, a noble man who understands Gen’s position, defends.

“Changing the subject only works so many times, psych major."  Kohaku teases, leaning over her dining room table (Ruri’s table, but she is closing tonight, much to Chrome’s dismay). Her face is only a few inches from Gen’s, attempting to look intimidating. Gen doesn’t back down.

“You are projecting your own romantic pitfalls onto me. I simply don’t have anything going on— we cleared that up in the walk-in.”

“When he teased you about going on a date with Amaryllis?”

Kohaku leans back, hind legs of her seat meeting the hardwood once more. “Not a date. And Gen, I’ve known you for almost two years now, you don’t fool me anymore. I know there’s something weird going on with you and Senkuu, and we’re here to help.”

“You think you two have the credentials to help with my love life?” Gen scoffs, shoving his laptop aside. “I study love. Consciously, chemically— I know everything the modern world has discovered about love.”

Chrome tosses a glance to Kohaku, who shoots an eyebrow raise in response.

“Anyways, I heard you called off that bet. Was kind of dumb, especially for Senkuu.” Chrome switches, leaning back to cross his arms behind his head.

That was something Gen had wondered about the past four days as well. Why would Senkuu agree to a dumb bet, in the guise of it being an experiment?

Gen’s conclusion? Senkuu’s twisted form of flirting. He smiles to himself.

“Yeah, we got caught. And came to a similar conclusion, that it was stupid.”

“I can speak on behalf of the kitchen, we’re thankful.” Kohaku smiles.

“As am I, I can finally make some money again, no distractions.” Gen hums wistfully, examining his fingernails, feigning a relaxed look on his features.

There were still many, many distractions to deal with. Gen had a hell of a week though, sorting things out to decide on what to do about said distractions.

On Sunday night, Gen spent over an hour staring at his ceiling. He was supposed to know what to do about these things. The people expert, the mind-reader, the psych major. In truth, though, studying can only take you so far when you don’t have any real life experience. And Gen lacked experience. He had a few hookups scattered throughout his teen and college years. Gen learned how to be good at sex, and even better at leaving a dozing man in bed without a trace. But romance, commitment— Gen didn’t know any of that. He didn’t do that.

On Monday, Gen pulled at his hair to keep himself focused in lectures, and spent an absurd amount of time reading discussion posts, when he had already replied to two other colleagues. Why him, anyway? He could be pretty, confident, filled with allure and mystery. Senkuu didn’t see any of that, though. He saw the work side of him. Being bone tired, angry, selfish, making mistakes, crying over spilt milk (literally, he dropped an entire jug when Kokuyo tried to get him to train in the bar.) Now Gen was stuck with a decision to make, which held complication after complication, no matter which path he took.

On Tuesday, Gen sulked around at work. It was slow, only himself and Nikki scheduled on the floor, with Ukyo in the bar. Tsukasa had put them up to cleaning random nooks and crannies that didn’t matter. Gen figured that if he rejected Senkuu, things would go back normal, but would definitely be awkward for at least a few weeks. Senkuu could be good at putting logic before feelings, but he was still human. And Gen would likely avoid him out of guilt anyway.

On Wednesday, Gen had an idea. If he could get Senkuu to be interested in someone else, he could avoid this situation all together. If he could get Senkuu to reject Gen himself, to say “never mind, I was in a funk,” then things wouldn’t be awkward. It would kill Gen’s dilemma, and hopefully, his budding attraction for the other.

On Thursday, Kohaku and Chrome asked to study. Worriedly, Gen asked if Senkuu would be joining them. He still had to figure out his operation-get-Senkuu-to-fall-for-someone-else plan. When Kohaku told him no, Gen was first relieved at first.

No Senkuu meant no decision making. No rejection, no half-baked plan to execute (he was betting on getting Ukyo to play cupid with), no awkward teasing or flirting. No jabs, no knowing smiles to shoot at each other when Chrome and Kohaku get amazed by Senkuu’s genius mind, no Senkuu, which was a relief.

No Senkuu, which was also kind of disappointing. As Gen fended off questions from Kohaku about his situation, he pictured what Senkuu what say if he were there. He would probably tell them everything, and willingly take the heat himself, sparing Gen the time and energy. Senkuu tended to do that for those he cared about, collecting other’s burdens to handle himself.

On Thursday, Gen accepted things the way they were. He didn’t need to meddle with Senkuu’s love life. He didn’t need to do anything, really. Senkuu would accept him for what he was, like he always had.

On Friday, Gen made a decision anyway.

He shot Senkuu a text, letting him know that he could give him a ride before work, and to meet him at the lot outside the campus cafe.

Senkuu knocks on Gen’s passenger window at four-o-clock sharp. Gen wipes his sweaty palms against his slacks, unlocking the door, and waving for Senkuu to come in.

“Thanks for the ride, psych major.” Senkuu smiles, tossing his messenger bag into the backseat. Gen notes that his hair is down today.

“No problem.” Gen returns the smile, attempting to conceal his nervousness. “Before, we leave, though, there’s something I have to say.”

Senkuu’s eyes widen slightly, before he schools his own expression to be neutral. His left hand slowly moves over to the cuff of his shirt. He’s just as nervous as Gen is.

“I don’t know,” Gen starts, and Senkuu’s expression doesn’t change.  “I don’t know how to express it. I think I went through the five stages of grief this week figuring out what to do, putting this pressure on myself that didn’t exist. I know how I feel, and for once, you have left me at a loss for words.”

“Wow. My dad did say I’d be a lady-killer one day.” Senkuu jokes, but his voice shakes a little.

Gen exhales through his nose softly, fiddling with his hair. “Can I show you instead?” He asks, and Senkuu knits his brows in confusion. Gen reaches out, and Senkuu jerks back slightly on impulse. “I’m going to kiss you. Slap me if you don’t want me to.”

Senkuu huffs a nervous laugh, and his face begins to match his eye color. Gen gingerly places a hand behind his ear, and leans in. He does it ever so slowly, giving Senkuu a fair opportunity to whack him if needed. Senkuu squeezes his eyes shut, and Gen takes that as his cue to cross the finish line.

Okay, that was a bit of a dirtbag line . Gen shuts his own eyes and presses into Senkuu, and it’s so amateur. Senkuu doesn’t even purse his lips comically like most would for their first kiss, but stays frozen. It’s more a bump than anything, and Gen pulls away, worried.

Gen opens his eyes, and after a moment, Senkuu reveals ruby red. Soft, not upset. That’s a good sign. “Sorry, I’m kind of a shitty kisser.” He jokes, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Gen wants to scream, because holy fuck, Senkuu is the most nervous he’s ever seen.

“Want to try again?” Gen teases, and is surprised when Senkuu nods, enthusiastically. They meet with a bit more force this time, and now that Gen is in the clear, he takes the lead, angling Senkuu’s head to the right a bit more. He cradles his head with both hands, which seems to give Senkuu a bit more confidence, who reaches for Gen’s shirt.

Things pick up from there, Gen redirecting Senkuu’s arms to reach over the center console, and onto his waist. Making out in a car, how juvenile. Regardless, Gen is fucking elated. Senkuu sighs into Gen’s mouth for a moment, and Gen takes that as his opportunity to open things up a bit more.

He carefully weaves his tongue inside, wary to not get too excited or overwhelm Senkuu. He seems to enjoy this, though, as he fists Gen’s freshly ironed uniform. “Asshole, my uniform.” Gen complains, pulling away for a moment, eyes peeking open.

Senkuu’s expression sends a full on swoop into Gen’s lower abdomen. Gen’s never been more attracted to someone in his life. His lips shine with saliva, lids low, eyebrows relaxed for once. Smitten, maybe. “I’ll stop.” Senkuu nods, and Gen grabs him again.

“Don’t.” They reconnect once more, and grab at each other in various places for a few minutes (above the belt), tongues down each other’s throats. Gen pulls away, glancing at the clock on his car. Blood Orange hums quietly in the background of their pants. “So, yeah, that’s how I’m feeling.” Gen plays off. It’s nearly four-twenty, they needed to get a move on soon.

“Cool.” Senkuu says nonchalantly, adjusting his pants. It goes straight to Gen’s ego, but he decides not to comment on that.

“To be clear, I’m one-hundred percent interested in you too.”

“Not a million?” Senkuu asks, and after Gen’s eyes widen, “Kidding, kidding.” He waves off, “But what I’m hearing is that you were able to put it into words.” Senkuu accuses, slowly. “You just wanted to kiss me.”

Gen looks out the window, “We’re gonna be late.” Senkuu swats him on the arm. “Okay, yes, yes. I’ve never dated before, not like, seriously or anything. I didn’t know how to put it.”

“I haven’t either. Had crushes, but never really acted on it. I had stuff to do.” Of course Senkuu would value science over finding a possible suitor. Not like Gen could talk, though.

“So we both don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Pretty sure we’re supposed to start with a date.” Senkuu points out, as if Gen was comically stupid. Gen decides to not say anything, and see if Senkuu will take the hint. “…or not.” Senkuu earnestly puts his thinking cap on, and Gen has to laugh.

“I’m waiting for you to ask me out, moron.” Gen confirms, and Senkuu rolls his eyes.

“Should I get a banner? Shout at you from the roof at work? A mariachi band? Blast a boombox outside your window?” Gen’s wholeheartedly laughing now, and Senkuu joins in after naming at least ten more corny rom-com confessions.

“Fuck, seriously, do not do any of that.” Gen’s grinning from ear to ear, and Senkuu gives him this look.

“Will you go out with me, psych major?” Senkuu finally fucking asks.

“Yes, aerospace engineering major.” Gen leans in, but Senkuu places a finger on his lips.

“It’s only funny when I do it.” He deadpans, and attempts to connect their lips together.

Gen pushes him off, playfully. “Nope, you're cut off. We have to get to work soon anyways, babe ."

They buckle up, and Senkuu frowns. "Okay, ground rules. No pet names."

"Okay, no making fun of how I look without my eyebrows on." Gen backs out of the spot they'd been idling in.

"What."

"Or how I look in the morning in general."

"For one, I would never." Gen shoots him a pointed look, "And two, I sleep at my desk. A lot. That will not change."

"I like having my own space in bed anyways."

"Good, because according to Chrome, I also drool."

"Sexy. I sleeptalk."

"I know. " Senkuu snorts. "Anything else you want to clear from your conscience?"

Gen hums. There are a billion things he wants to ask Senkuu. Why me, for one, but that is far too vulnerable, especially considering they're not even technically dating yet.

"When d'ya figure it out?" He settles for. In the corner of Gen's eye, he can see Senkuu relax into his seat, bringing a hand to his chin.

"I don't think I had an aha moment, necessarily." Senkuu says after a minute. "There was the initial attraction, and then the buddings of a crush, or whatever. I guess I didn't pay attention to it, though, until a few months ago."

"Do tell."

"No." Senkuu shakes his head, and Gen restrains himself from swerving the car.

"No? Don't tell me it's super sappy—"

"Not at all. It's embarassing..." Senkuu reaches over to place a tentative hand on Gen's shoulder. Gen risks a glance away from the road, into Senkuu's eyes. "For you." He finishes, not able to help himself from a snicker, retracting his arm to cover his amusement.

"You're right. Nevermind."

"You barely figured it out in the last week." Senkuu complains defensively.

"Twenty-four hours, actually." Gen corrects swiftly.

"Ouch, psych major."

After a brief silence, Senkuu doesn't prod. They're almost to the restaurant, so Gen decides to throw him a bone before they go in.

"I was talking with Chrome and Kohaku. They were yapping about one their gen-ed classes, and my brain kept supplying quips you would say if you were there. I realized I had missed you—"

"Okay, I get it. Please stop, or I'm gonna get car sick." Senkuu dramatically clasps his hand to his stomach, sticking his tongue out. Gen can see the red creeping up his neck.

They arrive at work with only a few minutes to spare, thanks to Gen's heavily distracted driving. Senkuu fiddles with his cuffs.

"For real, though, are you actually sure you're down for this?" Senkuu asks, eyes zeroed in on Gen's.

Gen considers playing coy, or saying something dumb to mask how he feels. "One billion percent." He says earnestly. Senkuu grins, canines revealing themselves.

"Alright, then." He says, before grabbing Gen's hand and planting a swift kiss to the base of his palm. "Get excited, psych major."