Michael feigned further ignorance and even had the audacity to look affronted, his mouth falling open and his hand settling over his heart, “Little Brother! What have I done to deserve such scorn?”

Lucas really wished he was stronger than a teacup puppy in comparison to his older brother, because then he could successfully choke him out. As it was, all he could do was glare harder at him and mutter through gritted teeth, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

The older brother continued the charade, but dropped the innocence, the corner of his mouth quirking up knowingly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Eliza and Penny wanted Mooncakes, so I brought them down for Mooncakes.”

“There are half a dozen Mooncakes on the bottom shelf of the fridge. I saw them before I came to work two hours ago!”

“Are there? I didn’t see them.”

Lucas felt his irritation flaring, his fingers curling into fists as Michael carried on nonchalantly. His brother always had a way of pissing him off with little effort…and forcing the truth out of him in the same breadth.

“You always keep track of the Mooncakes. You just so happened to not see them tonight? A Friday night? Of all nights?” Lucas asked as Michael idly went about organizing the menus they still had at the host desk.

“I guess so. Why? Is there something…particularly special about Friday nights that I’m not allowed to forget things?” Michael pushed back, looking pointedly at his brother, a flashing gleam in his eye.

“…” Michael waited patiently, his smirk growing as Lucas’s cheeks burned red, “You know that Ms. Grier orders from us on Friday nights! And you know that Pharah always comes to pick up the order!”

“And?”

“And you know that that’s the only chance I actually get to talk to her!”

“There it is.”

Michael leaned against the shelf behind him with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, everything about him relaxed and unbothered as he regarded his younger brother who was practically shaking in his borderline rage, though there was a 50/50 chance that the red in his cheeks wasn’t entirely from anger. Ever the observant person that he is, and ever the mischievous pain in the ass, Michael had become aware of Lucas’s insistent desire for working Friday nights- and why- not long after it started. For the most part, he left Lucas alone…but every now and then, he liked to mess with him, more so now than before and that’s for a reason.

“You know, it baffles me why you’re so desperate to stay on shift for your “only chance” to talk to Pharah-” Lucas had the sudden urge to break his brother’s fingers so he can never do air quotes again, “but whenever she actually comes around, you turn chicken shit and bail. Do you know how many “only chances” you’ve had? 52. There are 52 weeks in a year, you’ve have 52 “only chances” and you haven’t taken any of them.”

“I wasn’t ready those other times!” Lucas argues.

“52 times you weren’t ready?” Michael shoots back, “And what’s sad is that Fridays really aren’t your only chance to talk to her. You go to the same school with the girl. You’ve had the same classes. Have had the same classes for three years. What did you do with those chances? Dive into the back of the class with your friends and show out in the hopes that she’ll notice you?”

…Yes, but Lucas wasn’t about to admit that to his asshole brother.

“Even if I wasn’t here, the outcome is going to be the same: Pharah’s going to walk in here, pick up the order from someone else, and walk out as you creepy-guy watch her from that pillar over there.”

Lucas is now actively trying not to punch his brother in the face because again: weak as a teacup puppy. It’s not just the fact that his brother insulted him, called him a creepy guy, or even that he called Lucas out on all of his failures; it’s that he was right about all of it and the younger hated when his older sibling was right. He also hated it because his brother had never ‘failed’ like Lucas had. There was not one time that Michael ever struggled with talking to a girl…or getting a date…or asking the girl he likes to be his girlfriend and her saying yes. Michael had always been handsome and cool and likable and girls just flocked to him like birds to a nesting tree.

Michael had the confidence that Lucas wished he had…and Lucas was pretty certain that the older knew that.

Before the younger could retort, defend himself, Brandon Xu popped back up near the host desk and startling the boy, “Lucas! Why are you still up here? The Sheltons need a refill on their drinks!”

“R-Right! I’m coming, Dad!”

“Hurry up!”

Brandon returned to the main dining room, giving his sons one last moment to stare each other down before Michael was waving his brother off, that infuriating smirk back on his face; “Back to work, little brother. Don’t worry. When Pharah comes, I’ll be sure to romance her properly for you. Like you wish you could,” he said.

“Don’t you dare,” Lucas hissed, already turning towards the dining room, “You’re four years older than her and we're still in high school! Now that’s creepy!”

“Girls love older men.”

Lucas turned in disgust as Michael ran his hand through his hair, tousling it attractively like he tends to do so naturally, schooling his face back into pleasantness before approaching the Shelton family to refill their drinks, seething deep in his soul when he had to admit defeat this time.

All of thirty minutes passed, Lucas forcing himself to focus on their patrons and their needs- and not on his aggravating older brother who had wiggled his fingers at him in an innocent ‘hello’ the last time Lucas peered up at the host desk. After taking the order of a new table of three, retrieving their menus from them, he first stopped in the kitchen to give the order to the cook line, reassuring his mother once again that he was alright to work when she stared at him worriedly, and then made his way towards the host desk to set the menus back.

He made it to the entryway just as the little bell over the door into the lobby rang. He lifted his gaze and found himself peddling back so far and so fast, he nearly knocked himself out on the wall.

He could’ve tried to be calmer than that, play it cooler…but no one had ever taught him how to properly act when perfection walks through the door.