“But you have to eat something!”
“I told you I’m not hungry right now. Coffee will have to do until later.”
“At least try one pancake. I could eat them all but I did make some for you too.”
“And like I said, I’m not interested.”
You just take another sip of your coffee and turn your attention back to the newspaper in your hand, ignoring the look Boxcars is giving you from his spot over by the stove. Eventually the silence is filled with the clank of utensils as Boxcars finishes cooking his outrageously large stack of pancakes and gets to eating. You resist the urge to sigh with relief when his next topic is focused on work, which you’re more than glad to discuss. You manage to finish your coffee a minute after he has already finished the pancakes, once again glad you managed to teach him to chew with his mouth closed. You’re just putting your mug in the sink with his dishes when he grins and gives you a chaste kiss, immediately going back to washing and ignoring the look you give him.
“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?”
“It’s like what?”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“You act all sweet then pretend nothing happened. You know how I feel about that.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to feel anything, nothing happened!”
“Right. You know, I prefer when your affection actually gives me time to respond. Otherwise it just feels like you’re mocking me.”
He turns to look at you, a contemplative look on his face.
“You know I don’t mean it like that. I’m just playing.”
“It’s a little too early to be playing-”
As you start to finish your sentence he just grins, dropping everything into the sink and stepping over to box you in against the counter, his arms trapping you on both sides as he leans close. He gives you another quick kiss before pulling away to whisper in your ear.
“Who says it’s too early to play a little? I’m up for a bit of fun, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re quite clear, but I-”
“I have somewhere to be-”
“Surely it can wait for a bit.”
“...Fine, but I’m not staying any later-”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.”
You’re having a nice relaxing smoke when you manage to find your watch, glancing at the time and swearing under your breath. Honestly it’s not so bad, since you usually make a habit of being early just so you can appear nonchalant at the appointed meeting time. It always pays to look smooth and on top of things. Which you aren’t right now. Right now you are jumping back into your pants as Boxcars chuckles from his spot on the bed, watching you rush about.
You manage to get yourself presentable in five minutes, sparing one last check in the mirror before looking around for your briefcase. Which Boxcars has in his hand, as he stands by the door, presumably to bid you farewell. You give him a small kiss in return for the briefcase, too annoyed at the moment to say a proper goodbye. You can hear him chuckling again as you walk down the hall at a brisk pace.
Here you are, one of the most feared mobsters in Midnight City, sitting at a bargaining table with one of your more dangerous competitors, and you have a pancake in your briefcase. You take a moment to stare at the man across the table, your gaze unchanged even with this strange development. You resist the urge to look at it again. You know where it’s from, and why its there, and now you have to use all of your willpower not to break your carefully cultivated image by breaking out into a fit of laughter.
But it does give you an idea. You smirk at him mischievously, catching him off guard as you quickly place the pancake on his head. You quickly resume glaring as he looks at you with a pleasingly shocked look on his face.
“Listen here, pancake patsy, you’re going to listen to my deal and you’re going to take it, or I’m going to have my friend make your new nickname into a reality. And be assured, he’s quite the cook, so I have no doubt he could.”