Oliver steps into Robin’s shop with a spring in his step. It’s late, and it’s been a few days since their dinner.

There’s a customer, and Oliver waits (im)patiently. Once they leave with their milk tea, Oliver ambles up to the counter.

“Hey, there,” Oliver says with a broad smile.

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Good evening, how may I help you?”

Oliver rolls his eyes and whips off his sunnies. “I have something for you.” He holds up the Dymocks bag. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.”

“You thought of me,” Robin says, sounding amused. He takes the bag and pulls out the book—a collection of illustrations from the Great British Bake Off. He gives Oliver a pointed look. “Really?”

“I rather eat the real thing instead of just looking at the pictures, except I can’t cook,” Oliver says innocently.

Robin rolls his eyes and places the book to the side of the counter.

Oliver slides his credit card and loyalty card across the counter and pulls out his reusable cup. “So, what do you have for me today?”

“Did you make sure to mark out certain pages in particular?” Robin says good-naturedly.

Oliver face-palms. “I knew I forgot to do something. You’ll just have to read my mind instead.”

“I’ll need to look at your eyes.”

Oliver blinks, meeting Robin’s gaze. “Yeah?”

Robin looks silently, directly. His eyes are dark brown and steady, and Oliver feels his ears heating up.

“A-hah! You want something sweet. I know just the drink,” Robin says, turning with a wink.

Oliver pulls a face, trying to pretend to Robin—to himself?—that his heart isn’t thudding traitorously. It’s so unfair how calm and direct Robin’s gaze is. Oliver forces himself to watch Robin making the drink: it looks a lot more involved than the usual milk tea.

Robin comes back with Oliver’s drink. “Matcha mousse cake milk tea,” he announces.

Oliver threads through a large straw, using it to poke the matcha mousse spread against the inside of the cup. “Actual mousse?”

“A little smashed, but yes,” Robin says.

“Hm.” Oliver’s first sip is milk tea: sweet and creamy and with the slight twist of black tea, a flavour that is quickly becoming familiar and welcoming. In his second sip, he gets some of the thicker matcha mousse, the grassy flavour highlighting against the creaminess.

It’s like eating mousse and drinking milk tea simultaneously. The mousse is so rich and smooth.

“It’s so decadent,” Oliver settles on. “It’s perfect.”

Robin gives him a pleased smile. “Thank you.”

Oliver watches curiously as Robin makes another drink, though this time the insides of Robin’s cup has a pale yellow cake—meticulously weighed out against the milk tea he pours in.

Oliver absently sips his drink, but he can’t help be curious, especially when Robin seems to be satisfied with its taste.

“What is it?”

“Durian cake milk tea.”

Oliver blinks. “Like. Durian durian. The infamous fruit.”

Robin gives him an amused look. “Yeah, durian-durian. It’s a mild cake. Almost like a rich banana, almost coconut vibe.” He sips his own drink. “It’s good, though I should have a stronger option for people who really like durian. I love durian.”

Oliver finds himself perversely drawn to the cup in Robin’s hand. “Does it actually taste good?”

Robin holds up his cup. “Have a sip.”

Using the same straw??????!!!! Oliver quickly glances at Robin, but Robin looks perfectly serious.

Hands sweaty, Oliver quickly puts down his own drink on the counter and leans over, sipping from Robin’s drink.

It tastes...almost like the chiffon birthday cake, in creaminess and texture. It’s a little caramel-y, a little banana-y, a little mango-ish. There’s a hint of a sweet-and-something-else aroma, but it’s not offensive by any means.

“I like it,” Oliver declares.

Robin takes a sip of it again (using the same straw, Oliver tries not to think about it too hard). “If you’ll like, I have some fresh durian in the fridge leftover from making the cake. Just a moment.”

...What has Oliver gotten himself into? He wasn’t lying when he said he likes the durian cake milk tea, but even he has heard the horror stories.

Robin comes out with a clear container and two small spoons.

The smell isn’t too bad. Just, very strong, for all that Robin is quick in scooping out a spoon for Oliver, a spoon for himself.

The texture is creamy...and it’s not bad at all, Oliver realises.

Sure, the immediate smell might be a bit strong, but Oliver’s had blue cheese and this is definitely a step up from that. And under the smell, the caramel/mango/banana/coconut-like flavours intensify.

There is a bit of slight stringyness in the texture, but aside from that, the durian flesh is basically already mousse cake.

“You...like it?” Robin says.

Oliver licks the spoon.

A small smile blooms on Robin’s face. “You’re after my heart, Oliver,” he says.

What? Oliver’s eyes widen. “Just because—I didn’t say that just to, you know—” Oliver looks at his hands, fighting the urge to pull up his sunnies and cover his eyes. “It’s a unique flavour.”

“No—um, I meant,” Robin shakes his head. His shoulders rise, then relax. “Do you want some more?”

“Er, yes, please.”

“Alright.” And now Robin’s smiling again.

The durian tastes more mild the second time, but maybe that’s because Oliver’s fighting the losing battle to smile foolishly back.

Robin’s lips quirk. He flips open the illustration book, and his eyes brighten. “I’ve never actually watched the Bake Off.”

“Since I have it on Netflix,” Oliver says boldly, “you’ll just have to come over to watch it.”

Robin’s eyes crinkle. “I do, don’t I?”

Oliver grins. “You do,” he says warmly.