Oliver is annoyed at Kyle and trying not to be. What the hell is Kyle’s point, trying to bring up their old band days? Robin’s been so polite too, and Oliver really doesn’t want to make a scene in front of Robin.

It doesn’t help that he’s been massively regretting meeting his friends and making Robin come along. Wouldn’t a brunch with just him and Robin be so much better?

Thankfully, this brunch is finally finishing up, with the waiter clearing the dishes and the now half-empty hot sauce bottle.

Kyle’s eyes are narrowing at Robin. “How are you so good at eating chilli?” he asks. “Oliver sucks at it.”

Oliver grits his teeth, and barely manages not to startle when Robin’s thigh briefly presses against his under the table.

“It tastes good,” Robin says politely.

“What’s the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“Sichuan hot pot,” Robin says firmly. “There are some good places in the CBD area.”

“Right,” Kyle says. “I’ll look it up.”

A particularly loud group in the restaurant leaves, and familiar music in the background picks up.

“Oh, seriously, your coffee song again?” Kyle says with a roll of his eyes. “I still can’t believe you wrote that pop trash.”

Oliver sucks in a sharp breath and whips off his sunnies to glare at Kyle. “It’s not trash.”

“Yes it is,” Kyle says mutinously. “Like your stupid Summertime Rain song.”

“No one is forcing you to listen to it.”

“Kyle,” Nina says.

“Chill, fine, whatever,” Kyle says shortly. “It’s just an opinion, sheesh.”

It leaves Oliver wondering why the hell he’s still friends with Kyle. They might have gotten along in the past, but they definitely don’t get along now.

“It’s a lovely song,” Robin says. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave soon to open my shop.”

“Right, of course,” Nina says. She flags down the waiter for the bill.

Oliver feels like he can breathe again as he exits the restaurant.

“It was lovely to meet you all,” Robin says.

“And it was lovely to meet you, Robin,” Nina says, glancing at Oliver.

Oliver gives her a look. Yeah, happy now? It doesn’t actually make him feel better when she raises her eyebrows and gives him a return look of yes.

“Coming?” Kyle asks.

“My place is near Robin’s shop, so I’m headed that way,” Oliver says.

Kyle smirks. “Right.”

Oliver glares at him, glare intensifying when Kyle rolls his eyes. Oliver nudges Robin away from his friends, and thankfully Robin goes along with it.

The moment they are out of earshot, Oliver sighs heavily.

“I’m sorry about my friends,” he says. “I should have said no, but they’re nosy as hell.”

“They were alright,” Robin says.

“Robin,” Oliver says, frowning. “I definitely don’t expect you to like Kyle. He’s just two years younger than the rest of us but acts like he’s 10 years younger. If I wanted you to meet my friends, I should have had you meet Mia or something...”

Their eyes meet, and Oliver realises that he didn’t put his sunnies back on, and Robin’s gaze is searching him, his gaze warm and concerned—

Robin’s lips quirk up. “I can’t believe you wrote the coffee song and didn’t tell me,” he says, nudging Oliver in the shoulder. “It’s a very sweet song.”

Oliver’s cheeks heat up, and he looks away.

“But the singer isn’t you.”

“...Actually, most singers don’t write their own songs. I’m not good in the spotlight, but music composition and songwriting, I can do.”

Robin’s smile softens. “Yeah.” He huffs a light breath and shakes his head. “And the Summertime Rain song. I’m sorry I never thought to look up the songwriter behind the lyrics.”

“No, it’s fine,” Oliver immediately says. “It would be so weird.”

Robin raises one eyebrow. “To know that I’m in the presence of a celebrity?” he drawls. His smile turns mischievous. “And a romantic one at that? I’m surprised all the boys aren’t swooning at your feet.”

“Robin,” Oliver grumbles, ears burning. “And why aren’t you swooning then?”

Robin’s lips press together, his cheeks inexplicably reddening. “Do you want me to?”

Oliver stares at him. Is he flirting with me? Really??? Is he is he is he? He needs to put his sunglasses on, quickly, except he wants to be able to look and see Robin in return. His stomach swoops...in disappointment as they reach the shop. Robin turns away from him, unlocking the door. He holds it open for Oliver.

“Do you want something sweet?”

“You have to let me pay,” Oliver says immediately, pulling out his rewards card. “Look! I have two more stamps left before the 20th one!”

Robin huffs a laugh. “Fine, you win this time.” He goes behind the counter and starts up the register. “What would you like, Mr. Campbell?”

“Something good.”

“Hm. What do you think of egg pudding?”

“From you, perfect,” Oliver says, winking.

Robin’s lips quirk up. “Alright.”

He hands everything back to Oliver, and on the receipt, it says: Flan Milk Tea, No Ice, 20% Sweet.

Oliver leans against the counter, watching Robin making the drink. Will he ever get bored of this? Can he ever get bored of watching Robin’s ease and familiarity making desserts and drinks?

Robin glances at him, and Oliver automatically smiles.

“Here you go,” Robin says.

“Thank you, sir,” Oliver says with faux seriousness.

“You’re welcome, sir,” Robin returns, equally sombre. Both their lips quirk up at the same time.

Oliver’s eyes dip lower at the first sip of sweet, creamy milk tea. It’s such a familiar taste now, and it makes Oliver feel warm and relaxed. Instead of boba, though, pieces of pale yellow pudding float inside the drink, and they’re a burst of firm softness and sweetness and caramel flavour. It’s exceedingly smooth, and Oliver doesn’t have to stop and chew like with the boba.

He accidentally looks up to Robin’s warm gaze, and Oliver’s late night activities flash over his brain.

Oliver clears his throat, half crossing his legs together as he leans against the counter. “It’s really silky and rich,” he says.

Robin’s eyes crinkle. “Good.”

Oliver looks away and clears his throat. “So, are you still up for dinner tonight?”

“Of course,” Robin says. He tilts his head slightly, that concerned look on his face again. “Are you feeling okay, Oliver?”

“Yeah, of course,” Oliver immediately says. “I was just—had a bit of trouble sleeping last night, that’s all.”

“Oh.” If anything, Robin’s gaze intensifies.

Oliver tries not to squirm, instead occupying himself by sipping his drink. Except Robin’s gaze has flickered down to his mouth again.

Oliver licks his lips...and there’s Robin’s gaze again.

Oliver's heart races. Maybe. Maybe Robin is interested.

Maybe if he leans forward, and Robin leans forward, and their lips could touch...

Oliver moves his cup. He opens his mouth to say—

The door behind them opens as a customer comes in. Oliver nearly jumps out of his skin—his heart is thudding so fast.

"Oh hey, are you open yet?" the customer asks.

"I—" Robin starts.

“Right, well, I’ll see you later,” Oliver says quickly. “Have a nice day.”

As thus, while Robin is distracted, Oliver flees home, drink pressed protectively against his chest.

Tonight, Oliver is going to have Robin in his home. Tonight, they’ll have dinner while Robin watches him. Tonight, they’ll sit on the same sofa.

How is Oliver going to survive?