Oliver fidgets in front of his mirror, trying the sunglasses on, then off again. He looks unapproachable with them on—especially now that it’s firmly autumn in Melbourne. With a groan, he hangs them off the collar of his shirt and ruffles his hair, teasing the curls.

Oliver grimaces. What is he doing? He’s not like one of the singers at the company, and Robin’s seen him all washed out at the end of a long work day.

When he arrives at the dessert shop, he finds that the main lights are off—but some lights deeper inside are on. The main door is locked, though, and nervously, he taps against the glass. To his great relief, Robin sticks his head out from the back, holding up five fingers. Oliver nods, and turns round to face the road and wait.

And fidgets with his sunglasses.

“Sorry about that,” comes Robin’s voice. “I just wanted to get some things prepared.”

Oliver slips his sunglasses on the collar of his shirt and turns round. His mouth dries. He is used to seeing Robin in that long blue apron—and mostly just the top half of it, too. But now he can see how fitted Robin’s shirt is—are those tiny little cake cufflinks?—and the hug of his jeans to his legs, and up the curve of his—

“So where was this bagel place you mentioned?”

Oliver snaps his eyes back up to Robin’s face, heat rising to his cheeks. But Robin looks curious, not suspicious.

“Er yeah, we could walk from here or take a tram. I don’t really mind either.”

“Walk, then,” Robin says. “How often do we get to bask under the Melbourne sun?”

Oliver grins, relaxing. He’s already memorised the way, and the two of them fall into step.

“At least you have an entire glass front to your shop,” he says. “My office window shouldn't really count as a window, since all I see is the building next over.”

“And all I see is traffic,” Robin returns, a smile curling his lips.

Which of course means they talk about Melbourne traffic and the horror that is their public transport system—while Oliver walks to work, Robin has to  commute everyday.

They talk about their families—Robin has a younger sister, while Oliver has an older brother and a younger brother. They share the mutual pain of growing up with siblings—but also the fun when they gang up together against their parents or other sibling groups. There’s a little zing in his chest when Oliver finds out that they’re the same age.

“You must be a little older if your birthday’s in a few weeks,” Robin teases. “How does it feel to have grey hairs?”

“I’ll have you know that my father didn’t go grey until his fifties.”

Robin smirks. “Because he went bald first?”

Oliver shoves him shoulder-to-shoulder, but he can’t help but return the smile.

Oliver’s steps are light as they walk, and in no time at all, they’re outside a bagel place down one of Melbourne’s little lanes.

“Table for two?” the harried server asks.

They end up being squished in the corner on a table more suitable for one, and there’s nothing Oliver can do about how their legs are pressing against each other under the table.

Thank goodness Oliver already knows what he wants to order.

“Any recommendations?” Robin asks as he glances down the menu.

“...Everything?” Oliver says.

Robin’s lips quirk. He holds Oliver’s gaze for a moment, consideringly. “With my close friends and family, we would buy two different items and share half each. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

Oliver’s eyes widen. “Oh, sure, of course!”

Robin’s smiles properly now, and the two of them place their order, along with tap water.

“—I know a lovely dessert place nearby that has a certain matcha mousse cake just for you,” Robin says.

“...We should have had dessert first. We’re adults now,” Oliver groans, and joy fills him when Robin laughs. His legs shift closer against Oliver’s under the table.

“And I suppose the perfect day for you would consist of dessert for all meals,” Robin smirks. “I knew someone from baking school who could make those illusionary desserts—the ones that looked like other food.”

Oliver automatically pulls a face. “But it doesn’t look sweet.”

“How about the ones that look like fruit?”

“But you make such good fruit desserts already.”

Robin’s eyes crinkle. “Thanks.”

The server comes back with their orders: a smoked salmon and avocado bagel, and a roast cauliflower and hummus. They do an awkward shuffle to move one half onto each other’s plates, and mutually decide to try the smoked salmon first—Oliver’s original choice.

Oliver bites in, and oh. He has a sweet spot for desserts, true, but bread always tastes a little sweet to him. The bagel is a little crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, and pairs well with the creaminess of the avocado and the smoked saltiness of the salmon. Pickled red onions and capers add sharp flavours that complement the dish.

He’s already halfway though it before he remembers to look up, surprised to find that Robin’s looking at him with an unreadable expression.

With some dread, Oliver asks, “Wait, do you like it?”