One candle, Oliver thinks. He lights one candle that someone gifted to him ages ago, and Oliver makes sure not to put it in the middle of the dining table. And there are no flowers, so the romantic ambience is subtle, just in case.

All the components for dinner have been prepped—cooking it won’t take longer than 15 minutes. His bed is made, and the living room has been neatened and oh what if Oliver has imagined Robin’s interest and Robin just wanted a friend who’s gay without it turning weird and—

Oliver’s heart leaps at the knock on the door, and he dashes over to open it.

“Hey,” he says, feeling breathless.

Robin’s smile is wide, and Oliver freezes, gaze locked.

“Good evening,” Robin says. “...Can I come in?”

“Ohmygod, yeah, of course.” Oliver quickly backs away from the door to allow Robin in.

Robin takes off his shoes, as always. This time, he’s wearing the cake socks. “They’re very comfy,” he says, meeting Oliver’s gaze. “Thank you.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Oliver mumbles. He turns around and heads for the kitchen. “Dinner?” he says over his shoulder.

“Yes please,” Robin replies. He puts a container in the fridge. “Can I help?”

“I’m cooking,” Oliver protests, “You just stand there and watch.” He starts searing two portions of salmon on one pan, skin side down, and cooking the buttery veg on another.

...and now he’s aware of how Robin is looking at him again. Oliver studiously sets an alarm on his phone—he is not going to let this burn—before saying, “You know, I still can’t believe you matched Kyle on the hot sauce.”

Robin’s lips quirk up. “I like spicy food. I grew up with it.”

“So you’re saying training?”

Robin’s hand brushes Oliver’s arm. “It’s not something you need to train for if you don’t want to,” he says, voice indulgent. “I have something for you.” He brings the other hand from behind his back and gives Oliver a small bag.

Giddiness flutters Oliver’s heart as he accepts it. It’s showergel—gingerbread scented showergel.

Oliver imagines showering. Naked. Using this showergel that Robin got him.

Oliver’s head snaps up. “Robin. You…”

Robin’s cheeks are reddening, and his gaze is not meeting Oliver’s.

“I was thinking,” Robin mumbles. “I didn’t mean it to be weird. It’s sweet but also spicy—not the chilli kind—and it’s not like people can tell you’ve used it unless they get really close. Well, I suppose I would know—” Robin presses his lips together.

Anticipation fizzes in Oliver’s chest. His heart thumps madly. He hopes his hands aren’t sweating. “Because you’ll be really close,” he says, taking the half step towards Robin.

Robin doesn’t move back. Instead, his hand settles hesitantly on Oliver’s arm. “Yes, well. Maybe I’m wrong after all?”

Oliver’s heart skips a beat, meeting Robin’s gaze.

“Wrong about what?” Oliver tilts his head. Licks his lips. A thrill goes through him when Robin’s gaze flickers down. Oliver parts his lips. Robin seems to mirror the action unconsciously.

“That...you like me.”

...That wasn’t the order of pronouns Oliver was expecting. “You don’t like me?” he blurts out, heart sinking. What was he thinking? Oliver moves back, but Robin’s grip on his arm tightens.

“Of course I do!”

“...You do?” It takes a moment, but then Oliver starts to grin foolishly. “You do?”

“I do,” Robin repeats, a smile spreading on his own face.

Oliver’s grin widens. “You do,” he repeats. His chest swells with joy.

Robin’s grin widens. “I do,” he says again, his tone turning indulgent.

Oliver’s stomach flips. He clears his throat. “Stop smiling, or we won’t be able to kiss,” he says, absolutely, totally, seriously.

“Is that so?” Robin’s smile immediately drops...and returns a moment later.

“Seriously!”

Oliver drops the showergel on the counter in favour of grabbing Robin around the waist. Robin returns the action. Their bodies press close together. Robin’s body is firm and warm against Oliver’s, and he feels like he desperately needs it or else he’ll float away.

Oliver is the one who leans in first for the kiss. But he can’t stop grinning, instead landing a smile on the corner of Robin’s mouth. Robin chuckles, his body shaking lightly in Oliver’s arms.

“Stop smiling,” Oliver grumbles.

Robin’s hand cups Oliver’s cheek, and he rubs their noses together instead.

“...Did we skip from the goofy teenager stage to the domestic old gays?” Oliver jokes.

“You haven’t said you liked me,” Robin murmurs.

Oliver’s cheeks heat up. “Fishing for compliments, Robin? Of course I do.”

Robin’s smile widens. His eyes crinkle, gaze soft.

Oliver can’t handle it, and buries his face in the crook of Robin’s neck instead. He jumps when his phone alarm goes off.

Oliver quickly goes to flip the salmon, counting down the few seconds the second side needs.

“Oliver?”

Oliver turns. Robin’s hands caress either side of his face, and their lips touch for the briefest instant. Is there the lightest taste of something sweet on Robin’s lips?

Robin immediately pulls away, and Oliver tries to follow his lips.

“Later,” Robin says sternly, “The salmon is done.”

Oliver stares at him. “You’re evil,” he says.

“I must get it from my sister,” Robin smirks.

Oliver rolls his eyes. “Get the plates, will you?”

Oliver is quite proud of dinner: the salmon skin is perfectly crispy, and the salmon and buttered vegetables are rich. Somehow, Robin ends up talking about the history of flour.

Oliver stretches his legs under the table and nudges his feet against Robin’s. Robin’s lips quirk up.

“I’m curious about your job,” Robin says, completely straight faced as his feet caress Oliver’s. Oliver’s toes curl. “What is it like to work in the music industry?”

Ah. Two can play at this game, Oliver thinks. He licks his fork (and there goes Robin’s gaze), and starts, “It gets increasingly chaotic towards deadlines…”

Eventually, dinner turns into dessert. Oliver moves the dirty dishes to the sink. They both move to the sofa, and Robin unveils dessert: “These are strawberry fraisiers.”

Oliver gladly accepts one of them. They are small and perfectly rectangular, aside from the strawberry on top. They look like a mix between cheesecake and jelly slice: there is a sponge cake base, a wall of strawberries, decadent creme patisserie and a thin layer of red jelly on top.

“Mmmmm,” Oliver moans as he slips a portion onto his mouth. “It’s so soft,” he says, licking his fork completely before going in for some more. With all the sweetness and richness in desserts, strawberries are a true winner. Oliver moans again on the second bite, and looks up through his lashes.

A mischievous thrill goes through him at Robin’s hyper focused expression.

“I know your plan now,” Oliver says, toying with the fork with his mouth. “You want to take over the world through the stomach. It’s all part of your evil plan, isn’t it?”

Robin’s eyes snap up. “I have no ulterior motives. It brings me joy to see you enjoy the things I make.”

“What about other creamy things you make,” Oliver says, smirking. “Will I ever get to have a taste?”

Robin’s cheeks dust pink. “We’ll have to see if you can earn it, hm?”

Oliver regretfully puts his half-eaten dessert down but it’s for a good cause as he swaps it for his guitar and starts the very familiar riff for the coffee song, gazing back at Robin all the while.

“When I was little, we only drank coffee one way… But then I met you.”

Robin’s lips part. “Wait…”

“I wrote the song thinking about you.”.

Robin’s eyes darken. He shifts forward on the sofa. Oliver puts the guitar down as Robin leans over him.

“Did you really?”

“But then I met you,” Oliver repeats. He places a hand against Robin’s face. This time, Oliver shifts first, pressing a kiss on Robin’s lips.

“Mnn,” Robin hums, and tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

Oliver’s chest swoops and soars. His lips buzz with sensation against Robin’s, and his arm and chest are alight where Robin rests his hands.

Oliver parts his lips, and Robin’s tongue slips in. “Ohh,” Oliver moans. He needs to breathe, but he doesn’t want to stop. They break apart, and Oliver opens eyes he hadn’t realised he’d closed.

“Oliver,” Robin murmurs.

Oliver’s chest swells. He nudges Robin against the sofa and straddles him.

Robin smirks up at him. “More?”

Oliver shuts him up by kissing him. Robin is exhilaratingly solid and warm against him. Robin’s hands rest against his hips and stay there though, the utter gentleman.

Oliver has to part, eventually, breathing heavy. He rests his forehead against Robin’s.

Robin’s lips are red and slick, and his eyes are a dark, dark brown.

“It’s no fair how pretty your smile is,” Oliver mumbles.

Robin’s eyes crinkle. “You’re the first one to say that.” Robin raises a hand, and Oliver shivers as Robin presses his fingers against Oliver’s lips. “It’s not fair how pretty your mouth is.”

“Only my mouth?”

“And your nose,” Robin concedes, bopping him on the nose.

Oliver rolls his eyes.

“And your eyes, and your ears,” Robin adds. His hand curls around Oliver’s face, tracing the whorl of his ear.

Oliver smiles foolishly. “Yeah? I’m perfect, aren’t I?”

Robin’s lips quirk up. “No objection from me. We should finish dessert.”

“But you are dessert,” Oliver protests and drops his body against Robin to stop him from moving.

“If I fed you dessert?”

Oliver looks up and gives Robin a coy look. “Will you now, Mister Quan?”

“For you, yes.”

Oliver chuckles. “Okay, okay.” He shifts on Robin’s lap, hands Robin his plate, and can’t stop smiling as Robin attempts to feed him.

“Stop smiling,” Robin says, exasperated.

At that, Oliver starts laughing, which is objectively even worse for eating, but then Robin starts chuckling too, and it’s perfectly, perfectly, fine.

---

Robin spontaneously hugs Oliver. Oliver’s not entirely sitting on his lap anymore, but it’s close.

“Hm?” Oliver says, and pauses the Bake Off episode on screen. His eyes are blinking more slowly—it’s getting late, even for them, and Robin wishes he was strong enough to lift Oliver to bed.

“We should talk. About us.”

Oliver pulls a face, but sighs. “I know. We’re adults.” He looks at Robin. “We’re dating, right?”

Robin smiles faintly. “We should go on a date, then.”

“Well, it’ll be either brunch or midnight dinner,” Oliver says. “Which we’ve been doing already.”

Robin blinks. Oh. “You’re saying that...we’ve been dating already.”

Oliver squirms. “No, that can’t be right.”

Robin buries his face in Oliver’s hair. He’s such an idiot. If his sister could see him now, she’ll definitely say they’ve been dating.

“Robin? Are you falling asleep there?”

“I’m not out to my parents.”

Oliver draws away, brows pinching together. “You don’t have to come out to them. You don’t owe them.”

“It’s—well, they know that I’m gay, but I’ve never told them, and they don’t want to admit that it’s true. I’m the only male child, I’m supposed to marry a woman and have children.”

“The heterosexual agenda.” Oliver makes a face, curling one arm around Robin. “But I mean it, I’m never going to push you to come out.”

“What happened when you came out to your parents?—If you want to tell me. You told me that your dad doesn’t like you…”

Oliver scoffs. “I never even told my dad. He learnt from my older brother. My mum, well...she wasn’t great with it at the beginning, and it didn’t help that I was doing music at university, instead of picking up a trade like my older brother. Music doesn’t look like a real career, you know—even though she obviously listens to music.”

Robin wraps his arms around Oliver.

“I mean, she’s better now, about it. She wants to keep the family together, and she knows that she can’t change my gayness. My younger brother isn’t so bad. My older one...well, I think he’s partly pissed that I had enough money to move out before he did. Doing a gay job.”

“My sister is good with it,” Robin says. “Well, she works on teaching football to girls, so she’s on top of things like diversity. She said you had a crush on me.”

“Seriously?”

Robin’s cheeks heat up. “Yes, I know. She did, even though she’s never met you.”

“Kyle thinks we’re fuck buddies,” Oliver says.

Robin’s eyes widen. “No, seriously?” His groin gives a twitch of interest. Heat floods his cheeks.

Oliver looks at him. “I mean...unless you’re ace, or you don’t want to…”

“I’m not ace. It’s just...it’s been a while since I had a relationship. A boyfriend.”

Oliver scrunches his nose. “Do you think we’re a bit too old to be boyfriends?”

“Partners?”

“—In crime, at your sister’s evil organisation.”

Robin huffs a laugh. “Date buddies? Friends with benefits?”

Oliver raises his eyebrows. “I haven’t seen much of these benefits yet, Mister Quan.”

“I trade in illicit cakes,” Robin drawls. “Are they not good enough for your palate?”

Oliver holds Robin’s face and kisses him deeply instead. Robin’s heart fills with soft and warmth. Parental problems aside, he and Oliver will pull through.