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Kong had only been a trainee for three weeks, and he was already starting to think joining this kitchen was the worst decision for his heart. Not because of the long hours. Not because there was a lot of pressure.
No, the real problem was Chef Thomas.
Always too close, effortlessly calm, and annoyingly handsome.
It was more than just the way his voice trailed off when he gave instructions or the way he looked with his sleeves rolled up. It was the way he hovered behind Kong, adjusting his grip on a knife by sliding his hand over Kong’s, breath warm against his ear. It was the subtle smirks, casual brushes of shoulders, the teasing comments that made Kong melt from the inside out.
And the worst part?
Thomas knew exactly what he was doing.
Kong stood at the prep station with a piping bag in hand and a focused expression on his face. He’d watched Thomas do it a dozen times, smooth, effortless swirls that looked like they were out of a magazine. But now that he was the one squeezing the bag, everything felt clumsy.
Behind him, he heard those familiar slow footsteps.
“Your hands are too stiff,” Thomas said, suddenly right behind him. "You're holding on to it like you're disarming a bomb."
Kong didn’t even turn. “I’m trying to focus.”
"I could help you with that."
"I don't need-"
Too late.
Thomas stepped in, slipping his hand down over Kong's and casually putting an arm around Kong's waist. As he led their hands together, his chest gently brushed against Kong's back.
“Look at that?” Thomas whispered. " Apply light pressure. Controlled. Like this.”
Kong’s breath caught. "Is this how you always train?"
"Only when I have a trainee this tense." Thomas's lips were painfully close to his ear, and his voice was low and playful. "Or this cute."
Kong twisted in his grip, trying to glare at him. "This feels more like flirting than teaching."
“Can’t it be both?”
"No!"
Thomas ruffled Kong's hair as if he hadn't just cornered him in a baking seduction before he laughed and moved away just a little.
Worst of all, it continued to happen.
Later that day, while Kong was busy plating mango sticky rice, Thomas happened to pass by and lightly touched the small of his back, as if it had no meaning. Kong stiffened.
Kong mumbled without raising his head, "You're doing it again."
Thomas hesitated. “Doing what?”
“Touching me for no reason.”
“There is a reason,” Thomas said, entirely too proud. "I like how you always flinch."
Kong sighed. "I'm going to slap your hand away one day."
Thomas smiled. "I'll think of it as foreplay."
Kong almost dropped the plate as he choked on air. "You are insufferable."
"You're blushing, too."
“I’m hot. We’re in a kitchen.”
With a dead serious tone, Thomas repeated, "You're hot."
Kong turned and glared at him. "Stop talking."
Thomas gave a wink. “Make me.”
By the end of their shift, Kong’s patience was as frayed as his apron string.
With the other employees gone for the evening, the kitchen was at last peaceful. Kong washed the remaining utensils while standing at the sink with his sleeves rolled up. He was exhausted. And distracted. Also, he might have been a little let down that Thomas hadn't cornered him in the walk-in refrigerator or said anything else inappropriate or teasing while cleaning up.
That's right when Thomas appeared behind him.
“You’re still here,” he said, his voice lower, gentler now.
Kong didn’t look up. "The job had to be finished by someone."
Without being asked, Thomas dried a clean bowl while walking hip to hip next to him. “You didn’t have to stay.”
“I didn’t want to leave things messy.”
There was a beat of silence.
“You always take things seriously,” Thomas replied gently.
“Because I want to be good at this.”
“You are,” Thomas said, and there was no teasing in his voice this time. "Better than the majority of people I've taught."
Kong glanced over at last, surprised.
Thomas's eyes grew softer. “You just get flustered easily.”
"Because I'm trying to cook and someone keeps flirting with me!"
Thomas grinned. "Yes, I think I should stop that."
Kong gave a blink. "Really?"
"No," Thomas replied. “But I should probably kiss you.”
Kong’s heart flipped so hard it knocked the breath out of him.
His hands were still in the suds as he gazed at Thomas, his eyes wide.
“Say something,” Thomas said, suddenly serious.
Kong wiped his hands on his apron after carefully removing them from the water.
"You're lucky I like you," he whispered, taking a step closer without breaking his gaze.
Thomas tilted his head. “Is that permission?”
Kong leaned closer. “That’s a challenge.”
Thomas didn't waste any more time.
His hands found Kong’s waist, pulling him in gently, lips brushing against his like he’d been waiting for this moment since the first flour dusted apron and shared taste test. Kong kissed back passionately fists tightening in the front of Thomas’s shirt, all the tension they’d danced around melting into soft, warm certainty.
Kong was panting when they finally pulled apart.
“I still suck at piping cream,” he whispered.
Thomas smiled. “Guess we’ll need a lot more one-on-one training.”