Work Text:
It only took a few dates for routines to form.
No matter what the original plans were, Asa Fell and Anthony Crowley found easy conversation and an easy path to some chic little bistro or cafe. A cozy table and scrummy little treat was as perfect an endcap for an evening date as it was setting for a quiet afternoon of grading papers and reading Christie’s novels while rain wet the concrete outside.
Anthony always preferred to watch Asa eat than pick at the little desserts they’d order, to simply bask in the happy little noises and that adorably endearing shoulder shimmy he’d do when offered a particularly pleasing morsel— accepting a single bite from Asa’s extended fork was plenty when he could feast on the sight of a happy angel of a man. He’d usually order some simple drink for himself, though— a plain cup of earl grey or creamy capuccino, but he rarely drank that either.
One particular routine insisted upon it (Asa found the whole thing to be a riotous bit of mischief): Asa always ordered some obnoxious sweet thing, piled high with whipped cream and caramel and chocolate drizzles. As soon as the drinks were collected and they were out of the barista’s sight, they’d trade cups.
Anthony couldn’t quite understand why the little routine pleased Asa so, simply playing into expectations based off their general appearances to subvert in private didn’t seem particularly naughty (Anthony’s favored devilry was gluing coins to the pavement and cackling whenever anyone stooped to pick it up), but his sweet tooth was satisfied, Asa’s preference for tamer drinks as well, and nothing really matched that blush and giggle as Asa deemed the affair a suitable performance.
Anthony certainly wasn’t complaining when Asa, cheeky thing, kissed the cream from his lips.