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I. Shuriken
Shuriken knows something is wrong when Slingshot burns the caramel.
Slingshot does not burn caramel.
Slingshot could temper sugar in a thunderstorm. Slingshot once corrected a recipe written by someone who had been baking longer than Shuriken had been alive and did it politely.
But today, he is staring out the window.
Across the street, Coil is leaning against a lamppost, talking with Skateboard, posture loose, grin easy, radiating menace in its most flirtatious form.
Slingshot does not blink.
The caramel darkens. Then blackens.
“Brother,” Shuriken says carefully.
Slingshot startles like he’s been shot. “What?”
“You’re on fire.”
Slingshot looks down at the pot.
“…oh my god.”
Shuriken follows his gaze back to Coil, who, at that exact moment, glances up and waves.
Slingshot immediately looks furious about it.
Shuriken closes his eyes.
This is going to take external intervention, he realizes.
II. Skateboard
Skateboard has front row seats to Coil being the worst.
They’re supposed to be debriefing. Something about routes, timing, coordination.
Instead, Coil is staring at a napkin.
Smiling at it.
Skateboard leans over. “You good?”
“He gave me this,” Coil says, like he’s confessing to a crime.
It is a napkin.
Skateboard squints.
There is a doodle of a coffee cup in the corner and the words don’t be late next time written in sharp, familiar handwriting.
Skateboard looks at Coil.
Coil looks at the napkin like it’s holy scripture.
“You are down catastrophic,” Skateboard says.
Coil straightens. “I am perfectly composed.”
“You kept it.”
“It contains information.”
“It contains flirting,” Skateboard replies.
Coil very carefully folds it and puts it in his pocket.
Skateboard watches this with the deep exhaustion of someone who is about to become a problem solver against his will.
III. Vinestaff
Vinestaff walks into the bakery to find Coil behind the counter.
Reorganizing.
Again.
Slingshot is hovering nearby, vibrating at a frequency usually reserved for natural disasters.
“You can’t move the lemon bars,” Slingshot says.
“They are inefficiently placed,” Coil replies serenely.
“They have always been there.”
“They deserve better.”
Vinestaff watches Coil adjust the display with absurd tenderness.
Then she watches Slingshot watch him do it.
Oh.
Oh no.
“Slingshot,” Vinestaff says.
“Yes,” Slingshot snaps, not looking away.
“You’re smiling.”
“I am NOT.”
He is.
Vinestaff pinches the bridge of her nose.
Another one lost.
IV. Boombox
Boombox doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.
It just happens.
He’s picking up an order when Coil leans over the counter and says, “If you keep working this hard, you’ll wear yourself out.”
And Slingshot—Slingshot, who argues with gravity if it inconveniences him—goes pink.
“I can handle myself,” he mutters.
“I know,” Coil says, soft, pleased. “I still worry.”
Boombox drops an entire fork.
Neither of them notices.
They are too busy looking at each other like they are the only two people in existence.
Boombox backs out of the shop slowly.
“…we are past subtle,” he whispers.
V. The Group Chat
Skateboard: we need to do something
Shuriken: agreed
Vinestaff: immediately
Boombox: PLEASE
Skateboard: intervention?
Shuriken: intervention.
VI. The Intervention
They lure Slingshot with family meeting.
They lure Coil with urgent.
Neither suspects a thing.
They should.
Chairs are arranged.
Everyone is waiting.
Slingshot stops dead. “Why does this look like a trap.”
“It is,” Skateboard says cheerfully. “Sit.”
They don’t.
Vinestaff takes command before they can bolt.
“We love you both,” he begins.
“I’m afraid,” Coil murmurs.
“You should be,” Boombox says.
It unravels quickly after that.
Evidence is presented.
The caramel incident.
The napkin.
The lemon bars.
The fork.
Coil attempts denial for eight seconds before Shuriken says, “You memorized his schedule,” and that’s the end of that.
They turn to Slingshot, who lasts twelve.
“You save him the corner table,” Vinestaff says.
Silence.
“…I hate all of you,” Slingshot whispers.
“So,” Skateboard says, clapping once, “are we done pretending.”
Coil looks at Slingshot.
Slingshot looks back.
All that fire redirected inward, bright and terrified.
“I didn’t think you’d want—” Coil starts.
“Why would I keep the table,” Slingshot blurts, “if I didn’t want you there?”
Coil stops.
Reboots.
“Oh,” he says.
The friends retreat immediately, because they are meddlers, not monsters.
From outside the door, Boombox hears muffled voices.
Then laughter.
Then the soft, stunned quiet of two people who have finally stopped fighting the obvious.
Skateboard grins.
“Nature is healing,” he says.