have your cake (and eat it too). [a devereux] (Patreon)

synopsis: taste (part five of the senses series).

note: sorry for the delay! I meant to get this up earlier but i had writer's block on this drabble for a bit :(( i'm very happy with how it turned out, however. enjoy the fluff because the next series will be another angst one hehehehe.

The thing about [A] is that they can be quite oblivious. And by quite, they mean very oblivious.

No, those butterflies each time you brushed against each other weren’t just 'friend' things. No, feeling like the world was ending each time you got hurt on a hunt was not just them caring for their best friend. No, wanting to spend every hour and every second of the day with you was not platonic (at least, not for them; their thoughts weren't exactly in that realm).

So yeah, they were a little clueless. Sue them.

Still, there are a few particular moments where they feel like banging their head on a table because of how stupid they were. When they think back on it, it couldn't be more obvious how head over heels they were. At the time, however, it didn't even occur to them that that was an option.

Like that one time. Fuck, it's embarrassing to think about now.

The two of you had been at a café, catching up on a Saturday despite having seen each other fifteen or so hours ago. They didn't care. Seeing you made them happy, even if they couldn't really explain it. It was just… safe. Comfortable. They never felt like they needed to recharge when they were with you.

"—shouldn't be that hard."

"Yeah? Speak for yourself."

[A] rolled their eyes. The two of you were talking about your current case—a werewolf who had been involved in several contacts with the human police. It was a more complicated case, seeing as you had to get clearance from the NYPD to transfer the files to IAOS (which they had not been happy with), but [A] had confidence that you'd solve it soon. You guys always did.

"We'll deal with it on Monday. I don't want to talk about work anymore," [A] said, waving their hand.

You raised an eyebrow. "You were the one who brought it up."

"And I'm also the one changing the subject now." They pointed to your slice of cake with their fork. "How is it?"

"Hmm? Oh. It's good, I— Wait." You narrowed your eyes. [A]'s arm was already inching towards your plate. You swatted their hand away without a second glance. "You're only asking because you want some, don't you? I already gave you two bites!"

[A] grinned. "Care if I take a third?"

"Yes!"

"Can I just take some of the icing?"

You swatted their hand again. "If you want it so bad, buy your own."

And here's the thing, they could've, had they wanted to. It wasn't like you had the last slice and, even if you did, the café you chose had plenty of other flavours—many that [A] wanted to try one day, when they came back. So why didn't they just buy their own?

It wasn't like they couldn't finish it either. Though they weren't hungry, they certainly weren't full enough to not eat a piece of cake (and if they were, they'd find room).

At the time, they thought that maybe, they just wanted to nag you. That the look on your face each time [A] inched their fork forward was so hilarious that they didn't want to stop. They thought that the entire situation was just that amusing. And sure, it was, to an extent, but really, and they realized this only later, it was because they liked you.

They liked the little scrunch in your eyebrows when you noticed [A] was up to something. They liked the curve of your mouth, staring at your lips formed more playful insults. They liked the shiver that raced up their spine when you shot them a stern look and the butterflies that knocked at their insides.

Most of all, they liked how much sweeter the cake tasted when they knew it was yours.

Was that cheesy? Absolutely. But psychologically, that's how their brain thought.

"One tiny bite? A crumb?" [A] asked.

Though they were teasing, you sighed and pushed your plate to the center of the table. "You're buying me something else today, got it? I can't believe I'm doing this."

[A] grinned. "You got it."

As they grabbed a piece for themself, their fork hit yours. You laughed and shook your head. Of course, the cake probably tasted the same as every other time they stole from you, but hearing that sound, watching you smile, they think that that bite of cake was the best they ever had.