Romance short. A chocolatier falls head over heels for one of his most austere customers.
7k, rated M, M/M. A very exuberant chocolatier crushes on desperately on the deadpan professor who begins coming into his shop for coffee. Autism for autism and lots of flirting and teasing. Introducing Benny Wu and Haoran Soon. Adapted from a TweetFic.
He always arrived twenty minutes early and offered his own coffee — black, decaf — and took one of the two-chair tables to wait for his sister. According to Frances, he was a professor of sociology at the university. Haoran had known Frances for two years because this was her favourite coffee shop, and the first two years she’d met up with him in the evenings — now her free spot was on Tuesday morning, they came here instead.
He was obsessively early for every single one of his appointments, not just this one.
“Fuck, he’s so hot,” whispered Haoran to Lee as he put his head out of the back, watching him sweep over to his usual seat beside the window. “Are you seeing this? Are you seeing how hot this man is?”
“Boss, we are not seeing it,” retorted Lee. “He’s been coming here for a month, and he is literally just a regular middle-aged man, except that he seems to be surgically incapable of joy or pleasure. I’ve never even seen him smile.”
“God, I know, right?” asked Haoran. “Major hottie. I’m gonna say hello.”
“Do not say hello,” said Lee, but Haoran was already on the other side of the counter, and he skidded to a stop in front of Frances’ brother’s table, looking down at him as he sat with his coffee.
He was handsome. He had sleek, black hair that was beginning artfully to grey, and heavily lidded eyes, thick, even eyebrows, perfectly carved-out lips, high cheekbones.
“Hey!” said Haoran. “You’re here all the time — and your sister is one of our best customers.”
“I’m here once a week,” said Frances’ brother, “not all the time. As for my sister’s ranking within your customer base, I couldn’t say.”
“How about some chocolates, on the house?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Aw, come on,” said Haoran. “Who doesn’t like chocolate?”
“It’s kind of you to offer,” he said, and took a sip of his drink. “Nonetheless.”
“C’mooon,” said Haoran. “You like truffles? A little vanilla, strawberry? What gets you off?”
The prof stared at him.
“I mean,” said Haoran, hand twitching as he resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. “Your tastebuds.”
“… No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“But you didn’t even — ”
“No.” He said it so coldly, his eyes so blank and yet so fierce, that the chocolatier shivered and just backed down, leaving the prof alone.
For today.
When his sister came in he rushed to take her order, which was different every time she came in, and as he put it together for her, he asked, “So, Frances. Your brother. What’s his… deal?”
“His deal?”
“How do I make him fall in love with me?”
Frances stared at him over the counter as she tapped her card, looking between Haoran and Lee and Steph, seeming to realise he was serious, and laughing. Looking to her brother before she looked back to Haoran, she said, “Listen, babe, I love you, but my brother is not within your reach.”
“He’s off-limits?”
“Uh, no, you can… try, I guess. But Benny isn’t exactly a social butterfly, and he doesn’t really date.”
“Benny?”
“Benjamin,” she corrected him hurriedly. “Benny gets me in trouble, sometimes, but that’s different, I’m his sister. Although maybe you should just call him Professor Wu.”
Haoran raised an eyebrow. “Sexy.”
“Or… Maybe not.”
“Doctor? He’s a doctor, right?”
“Haoran, I love my brother, but he’s… kind of a snob. You know that, right? You’ve gotten that by now?”
“I think he’s terrifying. It’s amazing. I’m in love with him.”
“… Professor is probably best,” said Frances. She was used enough to Haoran after three years of exposure that she did not seem all that deterred. “He doesn’t like being called doctor in public — he’s paranoid about being mistaken for a medical doctor.”
“That’s just a crazy thing to be paranoid about. Has that happened to him before?”
“A few times,” said Frances, taking her coffee.
“What’d he do?”
“Well, one time, there was a real doctor. Another time, he just did the CPR himself.”
“I’m literally obsessed.”
Frances’ expression didn’t seem as though it could decide between sympathy or concern. “Babe.”
* * *
“Good morning,” said Professor Benny Wu the following Tuesday morning. “One — ”
“One black coffee, decaf,” said Haoran, and put the cup on the counter.
Benny stared at the coffee, then at Haoran, then tapped his card. “Thanks.”
“Can I get you something else? Pastry for breakfast?”
“I’ve eaten breakfast. Thanks.”
“What about — ”
Benny was already walking away to take his seat, and Haoran stared after him, sighing helplessly.
* * *
Some research (fruitless Googling followed by directly interviewing Frances over text) revealed that Benny cycled to work, that he kept pet rats, that he loved pineapple tarts and always has them on his birthday. In his free time, he enjoyed radio dramas and birdwatching. He played the oboe, and as a child he did ballroom dancing competitively, and he planned his outfits for the week on Sundays and put each one on a hanger ready for each day.
“Will you marry me?” Haoran blurted out the following Tuesday.
Benny’s face did not change. “No, thank you,” he said. “One black coffee, decaf.”
“You’re literally gorgeous,” said Haoran, which actually made Benny take pause, his hand on his coffee before he looked up at Haoran. His lips were thin, and he looked displeased rather than blank.
“No,” he said.
“No, no,” said Haoran. “You are. Hot. I mean, not as hot as me,” he winked, “but — ”
Benny swept away from him, his camel coat billowing dramatically before he took it off to sit.
Haoran sighed again.
“My brother doesn’t take compliments well,” said Frances when she came in. “Or criticism. He mostly doesn’t like people to talk to him.”
“What do you two talk about?”
“Uh, how my degree is going, what I’m working on. He doesn’t say much most weeks.”
“Isn’t that kind of one-sided?”
“Every conversation with him is like that. Maybe he does it out of fraternal obligation, but I’ve asked him a few times if he wants to stop, and he always says no.”
“Huh,” mused Haoran.
* * *
He made biscuits with cute little rats painted on them, gingerbread with white and grey paint. He didn’t even try to give them to Benny — he waited for Frances to come, then handed her two plates, and she laughed, grinning.
When Frances set the two plates on their table, Benny frowned, putting a finger on its rim and turning it artfully on the table so that the rat was facing him the right side up. He stared down at it, face unmoving.
He didn’t eat it, but Haoran noticed when they left that both plates were empty.
He tried it a few times, going forward — gingerbread, shortbread, sugar cookies, anything that he could decorate. Cute little rat-painted cookies sold surprisingly well with kids, who knew?
He always gave the plates to Frances, and whenever they left, they were both empty.
“One black coffee, decaf,” he announced when Benny approached the counter some half a dozen Tuesdays in. “And two white chocolate shortbread biscuits, complete with rats.”
Benny took his coffee and looked impassively at the two small plates on the tray.
“Is this the moment where you tell me you haven’t been eating yours and Frances has just been taking the extra one home to keep you from breaking my heart?”
“It’s before noon,” said Benny, very autistically, and really very sexily, which was unfair of him on both counts. “I do not eat sweets before noon.”
“So you do eat the biscuit?”
“It is very kind,” said Benny, face immovable. “You do not appear to have included them in my charge.”
“They’re on the house.”
Benny’s eyes flitted up to land on Haoran’s face. “No,” he said crisply.
“What?”
“No,” repeated Benny. “Amend my bill, please.”
Haoran stared at him, trying to figure out how to argue with this, realised he had no idea how, and added two biscuits to Benny’s bill.
Benny tapped his card.
As he swept toward their usual table, Haoran thought he saw a flicker of a smile on his face, and felt like he could explode.
* * *
The following Tuesday, Benny came in at his usual twenty minutes early and he stood extremely seriously at the counter, examining the various biscuits and cakes on offer. He stood with his hands behind his back and his shoulders squared, looked about a thousand years older than he actually was.
“Two of these, please,” he said quietly, indicating the rainbow cookies, and Haoran grinned at him.
“One on a plate, one in a paper bag?” he asked, and Benny inclined his head very seriously, the motion too graceful and somehow too important for Haoran to think of it as a nod.
Yeah, fuck. He was pretty far gone on Benny fucking Wu.
This became part of the routine on Tuesday mornings, and Haoran lived a little for the way that Benny would stand with his hands clasped at the small of his back, his lips pursed, his body entirely still as he took in the display case before he made his selection.
Haoran put out pineapple tarts, and Benny’s eyes immediately went to the tray, his eyes narrowing as he took in the label.
“Your recipe?” he asked coolly, gesturing to the plate.
“My grandma’s,” said Haoran. “I made a few adjustments, but those are mostly like she’s always made them.”
“Where is your grandmother from?” Benny asked the question so seriously you’d think the world would end based on the answer.
“Uh, Singapore?”
“Hm,” said Benny. Haoran had no idea whether this “hm” had positive or negative implications. “Two, please.”
“Coming up!”
When Frances came in fifteen minutes later, he greeted her by saying, “Your brother’s crazy.”
“Yeah, babe, glad you’re starting to catch up with the rest of us.” She glanced at the display case as he put a dangerous number of syrup shots — as requested — into her macchiato. “You made pineapple tarts?”
“You said they were his favourite.”
“And he ordered two?”
“Uh huh.”
“Don’t look so smug.”
“Why can’t I be smug? I’m almost in his bed. This time next year we’ll be married. You and I will be literal bros.”
“What do they say? Hope springs eternal?”
“I’m going to ruin your brother,” he told her, and she wrinkled her nose.
“Good luck,” she said, without enthusiasm.
* * *
The next week, he had another batch of pineapple tarts out. Benny chose gingerbread men.
“You didn’t like the tarts?” asked Haoran. “I thought they were your favourite.”
“You’ve been speaking with Frances,” said Benny disapprovingly.
“We’re buds.”
“Buds,” repeated Benny, even more disapprovingly. He thought it was disapproval, anyway — maybe it was just that everything Benny did or said had an aura of disapproval. “What else has she told you about me?”
“Uh, you keep rats? And you cycle. And you love pineapple tarts.”
“I see.”
“Listen, Benny — ” Oh, that was definitely disapproval, that was scorching, that was anger, and Haoran cleared his throat and rapidly amended, “I mean, uh, Professor Wu — Listen. Do you… Do you want to get coffee?”
“I do. Black, decaf.”
“… No.”
Benny arched an eyebrow. “No?” he repeated.
“I mean, yeah, of course,” said Haoran, putting his coffee on the counter as he rang him up. “I meant on some day other than a Tuesday. You and I, get coffee. Somewhere, you know, not here.”
“You don’t like your own place of work?”
“Sure, I love it, it’s my shop. It’s just, you know, not a place for dates — unless you’d like a private tour, I can show you the kitchen, show you everything.”
Benny was staring at him as he took a sip of his drink. Very slowly, he repeated, “Your shop?”
“My shop.”
“You own this business?”
“Uh, yeah? Cocoa Soon — I’m Soon. Soon’s me. Haoran Soon. I used to do catering for events, and then I branched out to having the storefront too — chocolatier stuff is my main passion, but I like baking, I like coffee, I like cocoa. It all goes together pretty well.”
“You’re very young,” said Benny.
“Huh?”
“To own your own business.” Haoran didn’t know what to make of Benny’s strangely pinched expression, the way he was so still he looked like he might snap. “You’re very… young.”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
“Yes.”
“Is this a no to the coffee?”
“I don’t like coffee,” said Benny, and took another sip of his drink. His expression now was unreadable.
Haoran’s brain was burning. A similar process was going on in his jeans. “Huh?” he managed to get out.
Benny walked away.
* * *
“Hey, B — Professor Wu.”
“Mr Soon, good morning.”
“Oh, don’t — Not the Mr. Don’t hit me with the Mr, bro.”
Benny stared at him very coldly, and asked in steely tones, “Do you think it likely that I will accept being called your “bro”, Mr Soon?” He made air quotes and everything. Fuck.
“Nope, no, sir, sorry, sir, don’t know why I entertained the idea for even a second — but please. Call me Haoran.”
“Mr Soon is your father’s name?”
“Uh huh. You want my mother’s name too, so you can do my family tree to aid in your research?”
“Please,” said Benny. “Grandmothers’ surnames also.” Haoran stared at him, having placed the coffee on the counter between them, and Benny gestured to a cinnamon-spiced shortbread and said, “Two, please.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No,” said Benny. “Two will be fine.”
“What the fuck,” whispered Haoran under his breath.
There was a kind of rich, dark sound in front of him, and it took Haoran a few moments of processing time to take in and meaningfully understand that the sound was Benny’s quiet chuckle.
“What the fuck,” he said again, putting one biscuit in a bag and the other on plate.
“Thank you, Haoran,” says Benny as he tapped his card.
“You don’t like my pineapple tarts?”
“I have sampled one of your pineapple tarts.”
“What did you think of it?”
“I think pineapple tarts should be eaten at New Year. It’s not the New Year.”
“I thought you liked them on your birthday.”
“My birthday is February 5th. It typically falls around the New Year.”
“Oh my God,” Haoran whispered, distracted. “You’re an Aquarius.”
Benny blinked at him, tilting his head slightly to the side.
“Fuck, no, just — are you fucking serious?”
“Do I strike you as someone who is often not, as you say, fucking serious?”
Something about Professor Benny Wu saying the word “fucking” made Haoran’s brain short-circuit, and he stood frozen behind the counter, staring at Benny’s face as Benny placidly took a sip of his coffee.
“Why the fuck did you get tarts if it’s not New Year and you’re so neurotic you only eat them then?”
“If I feel inclined to order a batch, it seems sensible that I should sample your recipe beforehand rather than disappoint myself and my extended family on a holiday.”
“So you are gonna order some at New Year?”
“You ask a great many questions of your customers,” said Benny. “Perhaps this interrogative method isn’t the essence of good customer service.”
“You don’t like it? Stop coming back.”
Benny’s lips twitched into a slight smile, and he didn’t say anything more before he swept away to settle himself at his and Frances’ usual table, setting his drink in front of him and Frances’ plate across from him.
Haoran buried himself in kitchen work as if it would dull the explosions in his brain.
* * *
He got a pretty bad stomach bug that was going around that week, and he had a… difficult time relaxing. Even between bouts of sudden unassailable nausea, he was on the phone trying to manage baking schedules for the weekend.
They could handle it.
He knew, logically, that they could handle it — Cocoa Soon had its own order and inventory system that he’d had a friend of his custom-code, and they almost all had their own management or organisational experience; Lee had been a general manager at a big clothes store for four years before Haoran had coaxed him aboard with shorter hours and a flexible schedule for not that much less pay; Steph moderated like a billion game forums on top of having been assistant manager at the last coffee shop she’d been in; the others were much the same.
Logically, he knew his staff were good at their jobs.
Logically, he knew they’d be good — of course, they were mostly very patient when they talked to him on the phone, about assuaging his dizzy and vomit-interrupted concerns.
“Boss, you’re being crazy and obsessive, please try to stop,” said Lee bluntly. “We have this covered — drink some water and take a stop. All this freak-out is probably making you worse.”
“Okay, okay, Lee, but that big party on Saturday, did you — ”
“Boss.”
He gave up, and after that they stopped answering his calls, which he couldn’t exactly fault them for.
He missed one Tuesday of Benny and Frances Wu, and on the Tuesday after that, there was a knock on his apartment door. He opened it bleary and pale, but no longer actively vomiting — he was low on energy and everyone was answering his calls again, although they were still keeping him at arm’s length and not letting him try to backseat (sickbed?) manage the business.
Benny Wu was on the threshold in one of his usual business-casual get-ups, his shirt tucked into his pants, his tie perfectly straight with its little tiepin in place, and a pressed red cardigan overtop. It was a novelty tiepin — all of Benny’s tiepins were novelty tiepins.
This one had Mahjong tiles on it. It was the cutest thing Haoran had ever seen.
He did not say this. Instead, he croaked out, “Fucking nerd. Your grandma buy you that?”
“Yes,” said Benny. “The first year I won a game against her and my aunts. I was twelve.”
“How is he real?” Haoran asked Frances over Benny’s shoulder.
“My theory is that our parents grew him in a lab,” she said.
They were both wearing facemasks, and as he let them come in and put their shoes on the rack, Haoran went to open up another window. “Is the smell that bad?”
“Nah,” said Frances, putting groceries on his kitchen counter.
“It’s not as bad as I was expecting,” said Benny.
Frances had passed him a vase from on top of the fridge, and as Haoran watched, mystified, Benny put a bouquet of flowers into it. There were chrysanthemums and honeysuckle and other flowers Haoran didn’t know the name of. Flowers. From Benny Wu.
He did not give Haoran time to appreciate the moment.
“You don’t have relatives to take care of you?” he asked, glancing disapprovingly at the pile of takeaway boxes stacked in Haoran’s recycling bin.
“Are you insane?” demanded Haoran. “I haven’t told my family I’m sick. This house would be swarming with aunties trying to pour soup down my throat.”
“Perhaps this is why you’ve taken so long to recover.” Was that displeasure Haoran was hearing? Was Professor Benny Wu missing him while he was gone?
“What, your coffee that you don’t like isn’t up to your usual standards?”
“Your employees are performing impeccably in your absence, if not more efficiently without your performative interference,” said Benny, sprinkling flower food into the vase and pouring in more water. “Nonetheless, I am unaccustomed to interruptions to my routine, of which this is one.”
“I brought soup,” said Frances, finishing unpacking the bags. “Nothing your aunties would make, though, it’s Tom Yam.”
“You made that?”
“Uh, no, I can’t fucking cook,” said Frances, and jolted when Benny glared at her, amending with a cough, “I mean, I can’t. Cook. Anyway, I washed my roommate’s car for her and installed the same insane organisation system in it that Benny put in mine. She made the soup.”
“I love your roommate,” said Haoran. “I think she’s so thoughtful.”
“Isn’t she?”
“Is all that car stuff a fair exchange for the soup?”
“Oh, yeah, babe, you’re gonna love this. Benny, can you get a bowl down? He puts everything too high.”
As Benny swept gracefully across the room to reach into the high cabinet, he demanded, “He doesn’t own a footstool? You’re barely taller than he is.”
“I — ”
“He climbs on the counter,” said Frances, ratting him out, like a rat.
Benny turned around to look at him with a kind of sexy sternness written on his face, and Haoran responded with what he very much hoped was a charming smile. “Hm,” said Benny damningly, and opened up the cupboard, removing a bowl from the top shelf. He didn’t even have to go up on tiptoes. Haoran wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Even though it deviates from your sacred routine.”
“Your thanks is noted.”
“What, no You’re welcome?”
“I never cared for that phrase,” said Benny, and behind his back Frances frantically gestured at Haoran to back off, but it was too late. How was he meant to back off when Benny just threw shit out like that?
“How come?”
“You’re not welcome. You’re saying thank you for a task or favour I’ve performed, or an item I’ve given you. To say you’re welcome implies you would be welcome to avail of the same without my taking the initiative, regardless of context. This isn’t the case.”
“Does it imply that, Professor Wu,” asked Haoran, full to the brim with fondness that made him feel almost as full as his sinuses felt, “or is it just one of those polite platitudes we engage in to keep society moving?”
“I fail to see what good platitudes do society.”
“You’re not in favour of platitudes, huh?”
“I am not. Your soup.”
“Thanks.”
Benny said nothing.
“You smiling behind that facemask?” he asked as he sat down, sipping at his water and taking the spoon Frances put in his hand even as Benny set the bowl in front of him on the table.
“It’s none of your business. If I thought it was important for you to know, I would have worn one with a window.”
“I’m in love with you,” said Haoran.
“Mm, I see,” said Benny, and held the back of his hand to Haoran’s head. His fingers were long and cool to the touch, something of a relief. “You’re feverish.”
“I’m just hot for you, baby.”
“Disgusting. I’ll pour you more water. Eat your soup.”
Benny immediately washed his hands because of course he did. Haoran stared lovingly at his back.
Frances said, “I know what’s wrong with him, but what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing that he couldn’t fix,” said Haoran dreamily. “He brought me flowers.”
“I brought you soup!”
“Yeah, and it’s great soup, I love you, I love your roommate, but, Frankie… He brought me flowers.”
Frances sighed and looked sidelong as the vase of flowers Benny had placed in the windowsill. “He never brings me flowers when I’m sick,” she said. “Just food and lectures about good ventilation and medicinal tea.”
“Do I get medicinal tea?”
“It’s in the thermos,” said Benny from the sink, without turning around.
“Marry me!” begged Haoran.
As Haoran ate, Benny and Frances did a onceover of his apartment — Benny kept doing the dishes until they were all set to dry on the rack, and Frances put his recycling and his rubbish into bags to take downstairs.
As Frances ran a cloth over surfaces, Benny asked, “When did you last change your sheets?”
Haoran nearly choked. “You’re not changing my sheets.”
“That depends on you.”
“I changed them when I stopped being sick.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t know, three days?”
“I’m changing your sheets.”
“Man — ”
“I’m not your “bro”, Haoran, as we’ve established.” Return of the air quotes. Haoran really wished he could put the burning in his cheeks exclusively down to embarrassment over Benny touching his gross sweaty bedsheets. “How likely is it, do you think, that I might be your “man”?”
“Hopefully very likely,” said Haoran. “Why, are you leading me on?”
“Very well,” said Benny crisply, “if you have your hopes set on making me your man, do you not think that perhaps it’s time to get over any embarrassment you might be feeling about changing your bedsheets?”
“… I can do it myself.”
“I’ll do it,” decided Benny, and before Haoran could stop him, he’d gone into the bedroom.
“At least open the window so you don’t breathe in my sickly miasma!” called Haoran helplessly after him.
Benny’s laugh filtered in from the other room, and Frances raised her eyebrows.
“You can make him laugh,” she said in surprise. “That’s pretty hard to do.”
“Told you I could handle him.”
“Oh, yeah, you’ve got him so well-handled, tough guy,” said Frances, rolling her eyes. “He just bullied you into letting him change your bedsheets.”
They left at around ten so that Frances could go to her lecture and Benny could go teach one of his, and Haoran went back to bed on clean sheets.
After a little struggling, anyway, because Benny tucked in the edges so fucking tight he had to haul on them to get them loose.
* * *
The following Tuesday, Haoran said, “I will not take no for an answer. You’ve been coming to a chocolatier’s shop every week for months, and you’ve never tried a chocolate here.”
“You sell chocolates?” asked Benny, deadpan.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
“With one of your chocolates? Your salesmanship requires adjustment.”
Haoran picked past the others serving real customers — Benny didn’t fucking count, and Haoran always took him at the far till — and gestured for him to follow. People didn’t normally buy chocolates at this time of the morning, but the case was still lit up same as the one for ice cream, and Benny stood in front of the cabinet with his hands clasped behind his back, his default old man position.
“What if I told you I didn’t care for chocolates?”
“I wouldn’t believe you,” said Haoran, “but we’d still break up.”
“I believe we’d need to be more formally involved before we could break up,” said Benny. “This is primarily a merchant-customer relationship.”
“Okay, then I’d bar you.”
Benny chuckled, but the smile lingered on his mouth as he looked down at the inventory on offer, chocolates resting in neat rows on the trays.
“I bet you like that,” said Haoran. “That everything’s in perfect lines.”
“Ah,” said Benny, unmoved. “You were an autism specialist before you were a chocolatier.”
“Oh, I’m the specialest autistic there is, baby,” said Haoran. “I’ve got autisms you couldn’t even imagine.”
Benny’s eyes flitted up from the case to Haoran, his gaze fixed on his face for a few moments. “Quite a revolting thing you just said,” he remarked.
“How come you’re smiling, then?”
“It’s a stress response to overwhelming stimuli.”
Haoran choked laughing.
Today’s tiepin had a strawberry on it, and Haoran put a box on the countertop.
“Smaller box,” requested Benny.
“This is the smallest box I do,” lied Haoran.
“No, it isn’t,” said Benny. “You do four-chocolate boxes.”
“Unfortunately, you’re getting six chocolates, so this box is gonna have to do.”
Benny stood there with his back straight, looking down through the cabinet’s glass front, considering.
“This has pineapple in it?”
“Homemade pineapple jam over a 72% dark chocolate. There’s a little kick of spice in there too.”
Benny inclined his head.
“Two of those,” mused Haoran. “Strawberries and cream, white chocolate infusion on a crumbly biscuit base?”
“Very well.”
“And let’s get back to basics — milk chocolate with a dark chocolate powder coating and a ganache centre?”
“If that’s your recommendation.”
“Oh, he’s taking my recommendations now,” said Haoran. “Okay, then, how about this — I recommend Saturday night, you, me, and all the dumplings we can eat at Mrs Chan’s?”
“Do you prefer Mrs Chan’s dumplings to those at Golden Kings?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Hm,” said Benny, wrinkling his nose. “Do you eat barbecue?”
“No, I hate pleasure and enjoying things, I’ve never eaten barbecue in my life.”
“A man after my own heart,” said Benny placidly. “I hate to enjoy things also.”
God, fuck Haoran’s boner. Fuck his life. “Yeah, Benjamin,” he said. “I like barbecue.”
“Then we go to Lime Garden.”
“I’ll go to blows with you over Mrs Chan’s.”
“That would be preferable to dining at her establishment.”
Haoran swallowed his scandalised gasp. “Oh my god, you bitch. Mrs Chan is a nice old lady.”
“A charming and venerable old woman, yes,” Benny agreed, “and a lacklustre cook.”
“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you dead.”
“I invite you to try.”
“You know, when you were doing your cute little ballroom dances in between playing the oboe, I was doing MMA, so I could wipe the floor with you.”
“You expect me to believe you never learned an instrument?”
“… French horn.”
Benny laughed at him.
“I can still beat the shit out of you!”
“Mm, all four feet of you adds up to quite the killing machine, I’m sure,” said Benny, and fuck, but if that didn’t make Haoran’s skin feel warm and tight. “In any case, I remember my childhood training — do you remember yours?”
“I still do MMA.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“… I do sometimes,” said Haoran.
“Mm,” said Benny damningly, and Haoran scowled at him, wrapping his box with a bow before he got his coffee for him. “No biscuit for me today.”
“Will the world end if you eat a biscuit as well as two chocolates after lunch?”
“Quite possibly,” said Benny. “Being of a sensible nature I find myself disinclined to test the theory.”
“I think someone should chain you up somewhere and keep you away from the general public.”
“Is that you volunteering to be my ball and chain?”
Inexplicably, this flustered Haoran beyond measure, and for a few seconds he couldn’t quite make himself talk even as he put a cookie on a plate for Frances.
“Rendered speechless,” Benny mused, but there was a slight pinkness in the tops of his cheeks. “I’ll note that for future reference.”
* * *
They were supposed to meet at Lime Garden at three, which was lunch, not dinner, but when Haoran pointed this out Benny just said rather bluntly that he would prefer three to any other time.
Benny was there at 2:40, just sitting down at the table, when Haoran arrived.
Benny stared at him, his lips pressed loosely together as he tried not to smile.
“I believe we agreed on three o’clock,” he said.
“Yeah, but I know you,” pointed out Haoran. “So I knew you’d be here now.”
“I’m not accustomed to being known,” murmured Benny, and they settled and ordered their drinks.
“Have I freaked you out?” asked Haoran. “Do you need the twenty minutes alone to accustom to the space or something?”
“No,” said Benny mildly. “I just prefer not to risk tardiness.”
“Got it.”
“Thank you for asking,” said Benny. “You really do specialise in autism, don’t you?”
“It’s my favourite food after chocolate,” said Haoran, and Benny actually made a face, wrinkling his nose the same way Frances often did at him, albeit more subtly.
“Haoran,” said Benny, “I have… enjoyed this flirtation.”
Haoran didn’t like that tone. “You like the chocolates?”
“I did,” said Benny. “I do. Haoran, do you know how old I am?”
“Forty-two. You’re Aquarius and a Monkey. Explains so much about you.”
“Please stop talking about astrology, Haoran.”
“Okay.”
“My point is — You do know how old I am.”
“Sure,” said Haoran. “That’s, what, nineteen years between you and Frankie? Your mother must be crazy.”
“I learned my efficiency from my mother.”
“That is so wild and so weird, what you just said, in this context.”
“Do you think?”
“Yeah, a little. You’re the eldest, she’s the youngest, right?”
“Most of our siblings are in the sciences, law, or finance, like our father. I’m best equipped to mentor her given that the Arts are her area of study.”
“Isn’t sociology a science?”
“It’s a social science, we exist alongside the Humanities.”
“Right, you just said a bunch of words there that didn’t really mean anything — anyway, that’s what your coffee mornings are? Mentorship?”
“It’s not about giving her direction, per se, she has no great need of a guiding hand. But I listen to her and understand her perspective and her priorities, can help her establish what she needs, what she wants, make plans.”
“That’s… that’s really nice.” It was really nice. It made Haoran feel warm and gooey inside and kind of soft, because Benny said it in the blunt and severe way he said absolutely everything, but it was anything but blunt and severe. “You’re a good big brother,” said Haoran.
“Yes,” said Benny. “I try. As I was attempting to say, I greatly enjoyed this flirtation, and I’m very flattered by — ”
“Did you seriously invite me to lunch to break up with me?”
“We aren’t formally involved.”
“Is the reason we’re not formally involved seriously because you think you’re too old for me?”
Benny didn’t say anything for a second, and Haoran laughed, leaning back in his seat.
“You’re really something,” he murmured. “I haven’t been with a guy under thirty since I was like eighteen, didn’t Frankie tell you?”
“Is the idea of men my age running a train on you supposed to convince me of your relative maturity?”
“Who taught you the phrase “to run a train on”? Did you look that up just to slut-shame me?”
“I did, I bought a dictionary of youth slang, and highlighted insults.”
“That’s so sexy,” said Haoran. “You’re so sexy. Do you know how many eighty-year-olds there are out there trapped in forty-two-year-old bodies like yours?”
“Haoran — “
“There’s literally like ten years between us, it’s not even a generational gap.”
“Haoran — ”
“What, you scared you couldn’t take me?” asked Haoran. “You too old, think you can’t get it up for me?”
Benny stared at him, and the tiniest pinpricks of colour appeared in his cheeks.
“Unless you have ED,” said Haoran, “in which case, that’s totally — ”
“I do not suffer from erectile dysfunction,” hissed Benny across the table.
“Scared you’d lay eyes on my young, nubile body and pass out?”
“You’re not that young,” said Benny reflexively, just as Haoran had thought he would.
“Okay, then what’s the problem?”
Benny, stunned and caught short with slight redness at the tops of his cheeks, seemed not to know what to say.
“Oh, rendered speechless,” said Haoran mockingly. “I’ll note that for future reference.”
“It was not my intention to imply you were too immature to pursue a relationship with me.”
“I own my own business,” said Haoran. “I own and run my own business — the storefront, yeah, but I also cater events, like hundreds of them a year. I’m also hot as fuck, I’m besties with your sister, I’m a culinary innovator, I have an insane social media following, I judge a bunch of local baking competitions and like — Just look at my smile, Benjamin.” Haoran beamed. “Catch these dimples.”
“Dimples aren’t something one can catch,” said Benny stuntedly.
“And,” said Haoran, “my autism is like, super compatible with your autism.”
“I don’t think compatible autisms is a typical basis for a romantic relationship.”
“What other basis for a relationship is there?”
Benny laughed, seeming surprised by it, and his fingers shot up to cover his mouth.
“What, you think your parents would hate you for having a guy too young for you? Or — Or just a guy? Is it that?”
“My parents have given up almost all hope of my dating anybody. I’m sure even you would be quite a relief.”
“Even me? Ouch.”
“Haoran, I am not very… fun. Don’t you think you’d prefer — ”
“I’ve literally been throwing myself at you for months. I’ve asked you to marry me like five times. I’m here at lunch with you right now even though you besmirched the name of Mrs Chan. I like you, idiot. I want this.”
Benny inhaled, but when he put his hand down his lips were curved into a smile still, and somehow he still looked surprised, a kind of warmth showing in his eyes. “Very well,” he said finally.
He put his hand down overtop of Haoran’s, cool fingers heavy and perfect.
“This is so gay,” Haoran whispered.
“I’ve changed my mind,” said Benny in a monotone. “I have to leave, immediately.” His hand didn’t move from where it was rested on top of Haoran’s. Haoran grinned at him, then leaned over and delivered a kiss to the back of Benny’s hand.
“You’re ridiculous,” Benny muttered. “Do that again.”
* * *
Later that night, Haoran sprawled on top of incredibly comfortable sheets in Benny’s incredibly comfortable bed underneath his incredibly comfortable down duvet.
“Too tired to go again?” asked Benny. “What happened to all that youthful stamina you were boasting about?”
“I’m not too tired,” said Haoran, not moving as Benny came out of the bathroom, having brushed his teeth. “I’m just recovering from a recent illness, and also, your bed is the most comfortable thing to ever exist.”
“I’m glad it meets with your approval.”
Benny’s flat was exactly what Haoran would have expected of him — it was sparsely decorated, perfectly organised. His tiepins, of which he must have had hundreds, were arranged on boards and displayed in glass cabinets, in which he also displayed ballroom dancing trophies.
Haoran initially went to make fun of him for these, say how nerdy it was for a man to display trophies from when he was a kid, but like all the dates on them were actually pretty recent because Benny was still competing. Haoran wanted so badly to call him a nerd but he had sexy costumes for it.
His rats also had a massive cage, and also a whole network of runs and walkways along the walls and suspended from the ceiling.
Haoran liked the rats, actually. He wasn’t sure he would, but he did — they were named Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong, and Michael Collins, and all three of them were female, and they liked to play and to cuddle. They all knew tricks.
Benny climbed over him into the bed, sliding under the quilt, and his body moulded against Haoran’s back.
“You need to gain some weight,” complained Haoran. “Your abs are too pointy and hard.”
Benny laughed against the back of his neck, and then bit his ear.
“Ow,” Haoran complained. “Your rats teach you that?”
“They’d never bite,” said Benny mildly. “They’re good girls. In any case, I’m comfortable at my current weight, thank you, no matter how much either you or any of my elderly relatives speak to the contrary. I can put a pillow between us if you’re worried I’ll cut you with the sharp hone of my athleticism.”
“What’s it called when you murder a spouse?”
“Mariticide.”
“I’m gonna mariticide you sooo hard.”
“Viricide would also be acceptable.”
“You do crosswords, don’t you?”
“Yes, online on my phone as I take breakfast on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
“That makes me so hard.”
“Oh, yes?”
“Uh huh, uh huh. So hard.”
“Wait until I tell you about my vigorous passion for University Challenge.”
“Oh, God, too sexy. I can’t take it.”
“I belong to an association of avid quizzers.”
“You don’t!”
“I don’t. But I could join one.”
Haoran started laughing, then wriggled around and sat nose to nose with the other man, feeling how warm he was, smelling the mint on his breath.
“Does this mean I can call you Benny?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Frances calls me Benny to bother me. You can and do bother me easily without.”
Haoran stroked the side of Benny’s face, thumbing over one of his perfect cheekbones. “Are you gonna order pineapple tarts from me for New Year?”
“I was thinking I’d order a gross.”
“You like ‘em?”
“They’re quite good, yes.”
“You know, if we were married by then, I’d be obligated to cater for free.”
Benny didn’t say anything.
“Are you blushing again?”
“Hush.”
“You’re blushing,” said Haoran. “I can’t see, but you’re like, definitely blushing.”
“Please be quiet, Haoran.”
“I can’t be quiet. I’m medically diagnosed as not being able to be quiet. If you want me to be quiet you’ll just have to shu — ”
Benny kissed him, and it was dizzying, wonderful, overwhelming.
Haoran dropped his head down onto one of Benny’s fancy expensive pillows.
“You eat a biscuit or pastry every Thursday afternoon after your lunch,” said Haoran.
“Yes,” agreed Benny. “It’s part of my routine now.”
“I’m part of your routine.”
“Increasingly, yes,” said Benny. “I imagine I’ll be incorporating you more and more. If the offer is still open, I would like to observe you in your kitchen.”
“Yeah?”
“You put chocolates on your tray in perfect rows. I saw your kitchen equipment too — sublimely arranged, and sparklingly clean.”
“That gonna get you hard? Seeing how I run my kitchen?”
“From what I’ve ascertained so far it will fill me with lust and desire, yes.”
“You’re the biggest freak in town. I love it.”
Benny leaned in and kissed the side of his neck, and Haoran shivered. “Is what you’ve done so far really the best this youthful, nubile body of yours can do?”
“You want me to go another round?”
“Can’t handle it?”
“I can handle it, I can handle it.”
Benny’s lips felt wonderful on the side of his neck, and Haoran’s eyes were half-closed. He could feel himself dozing.
“Are you asleep?”
“Mmm… No?”
Benny chuckled, the sound so wonderful and warm that Haoran leaned into it automatically, even as he felt himself drift.
Benny drew back, and Haoran slept deeply.
He woke to the sound of soft oboe from the other room, and Benny saying in a firm but gentle voice, “Buzz, please, let my sheet music alone.”
Grinning to himself, he rolled back over, and let the music lull him back to sleep.
FIN.
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