Robin sneaks a look at Oliver as they walk back to the dessert shop.

They’re going to have dinner together. Not today, but in the near future. Robin hasn’t had a private dinner with just one person for...for a really, really long time. It’s the nature of his friendship groups—they’re groups, and while not everyone makes it to their get-togethers, there’s always a fair number of people.

That makes Oliver the first friend Robin has made one-on-one. It’s puzzling how fast Robin’s gotten comfortable with him, even though Oliver’s a customer.

“...You do want to try my cooking, yeah?” Oliver says.

Robin startles. “Yeah, of course.” He unlocks his shop and ushers Oliver inside. In the back kitchen, there’s a drying rack full of madeleines, dipped in chocolate and coated in coarsely chopped hazelnuts. Robin selects three on a plate, and hands them to Oliver.

Oliver bites his bottom lip. “They look like ferrero rocher and tiny cake in one,” he says, eyes staring at the madeleines. A moment later, he looks up. “I don’t know why you placed three here, but you’re having one too.”

“If you insist,” Robin says, long suffering. He holds back a smile when Oliver rolls his eyes, and selects one, and pointedly waits for Oliver to take a bite first.

It delights something in Robin to see Oliver’s first, cautious bite, and the slow rounding of his eyes as the flavours soak in. The madeleine is soft and buttery, the chocolate and chopped hazelnuts give both textural and flavour contrast.

Oliver takes a bigger bite. “Oh!” he mumbles, holding it up. “It’s filled!”

“Not quite a whole hazelnut,” Robin demures: the filling of these is a creamy chocolate ganache.

Oliver licks the filling with a grin. “Mmmm.”

“Good?”

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver agrees. His eyes flutter, just a little, as he takes another bite.

It takes all of Robin’s willpower to look away. “Latte?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

Robin hums, and moves out of the kitchen. He mixes two servings of matcha powder and sugar with hot water. He pours heated milk into two cups, and the matcha goes on top. Robin tops them with milk froth and a dusting of matcha powder.

“I’m going to pay you back again, you know,” Oliver says, a touch of a pout as he accepts his matcha latte.

“Your home-made dinner will be priceless,” Robin smirks.

Oliver snorts. “That right, Oliver Campbell’s one-of-a-kind Michelin star dinner.”

“Campbell, the soup? Then cooking is in your genes,” Robin drawls.

“Noooooo,” Oliver places his hand over his heart. “How could you?”

They stare at each other for a beat longer, and both of them crack grins at the same time.

Oliver picks up his latte, and his smile softens as he sips. The milk froth clings to his lips, and he licks his lips before saying, “Matcha green, your favourite colour.”

“Matcha is not the only thing that’s green,” Robin says. “There’s avocado, and mint, and pandan, and green apples, and green grapes; kiwi, and honeydew melon—”

Oliver grins. “Yeah?” he says teasingly.

Embarrassment fills Robin, and a little grumpily, he says, “Are you going to eat that third one? It’s for you.”

“Really?” Oliver looks at the remaining madeleine, then shakes his head. “Then I’ll save it for later.”

That’s...adorable, Robin thinks. He packs it away in a tiny paper bag for Oliver.

“For our dinner plan,” Oliver starts. “I’ll need to check my schedule….and go grocery shopping.”

“Alright.” Robin chuckles, and pulls out his phone. “Give me your number.”

“Of course!” Oliver puts down his cup and takes Robin’s phone.

On receiving his phone back, Robin immediately sends him a text.

Robin Quan to Oliver Campbell: Hey there, Michelin star chef.

And Oliver rolls his eyes as he checks his own phone, replying back to Robin, Hey there, Michelin star dessert chef 🍰🍰

Looking forward to dinner 😉, Robin replies.

Oliver huffs a laugh and puts away his phone. “Seriously, you’re right in front of me!”

Robin shrugs one shoulder. “I had to get in the last word.”

Oliver laughs. “Evil, I tell you.”