𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙐𝙥.

What's The Deal?

Roy had been moving furniture around all afternoon, shoving the coffee table a little closer to the couch, turning the rug so its edges lined up neatly with the wall, even wiping down surfaces he hadn't touched in months. He wasn't the type to stress over how his place looked, but tonight felt different. He'd even gone so far as to bake a tray of slightly uneven but fragrant muffins that cooled on the counter while a pot of lemon tea steamed beside them.

For once, the usual cocky calm in his chest was replaced with a strange tightness. He hated to admit it, but he felt...nervous.

The knock on the door jolted him upright. He rubbed his palms on his jeans, put on his most charming smile, only for it to falter when he opened the door.

"Wow." Lia said immediately, her eyes narrowing with mock offense. "Don't look too happy to see us."

Roy leaned against the doorframe, covering his slip with a crooked grin. "Guess I was expecting someone taller."

Franny shuffled in, wrapped up in a bulky gray coat buttoned all the way to her chin, a knit scarf looped twice around her neck and gloves peeking out of her pockets. She brushed past Roy, pausing mid-step when her nose twitched.

"...Did you bake?" She asked, skeptical, as if she'd just caught him committing a crime. "Since when do you bake?"

"Since forever." Roy responded smoothly, even though the faint pink on his ears gave him away.

Lia stepped inside next, her boots clicking on the newly polished floor. She glanced around at the freshly arranged living room, the faint smell of lemon drifting from the teapot and let out a low whistle.

"You cleaned too? What's the special occasion?"

Roy shut the door behind them, his jaw tight, but the corner of Lia's mouth was already lifting.

"Ohhhhhhh." She said, her voice lilting with realization. "This is for your little boyfriend, isn't it?"

Roy stared at the floor, his cheeks flaming a deep pink. He hated that his face betrayed him, hated that a simple comment about West could send him scrambling for cover.

"He's not my boyfriend." He mumbled.

Lia tilted her head, tugging lightly at her ear like she hadn't quite caught him, though her sharp gaze told a different story.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

There was teasing in her voice, a hint that she'd heard perfectly well, and Roy felt a pang of irritation mixed with embarrassment. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, fumbling for something, anything to deflect.

"Do you guys want some tea?" He offered finally, hoping to redirect the attention and maybe, just maybe, regain some composure.

Lia snorted, crossing her arms and leaning back on Roy's worn-out couch.

"When have you ever seen either of us drink fucking tea?"

She glanced at Franny, who couldn't help but chuckle softly, and Roy felt like he was trapped in a corner.

"Alright, damn." Roy muttered, exasperated, running a hand through his dark locs.

"I was just trying to be hospitable." He set his jaw, but his shoulders remained tense. He could practically feel Lia's eyes drilling into him.

"Well, cut it out. That shit's weird."

Roy sighed, conceding defeat. "I'll make myself a cup." He grabbed the teapot on the counter and poured himself some tea, grateful for the small excuse to step away while the heat still lingered in his face.