Food Fantasy One-Shots

Bike Ride (B-52 x Reader)

(Requested by the person who requested B-52... I'm sorry >~< I lost the link once again...)

Letting out a tired yawn, you trudged down the stairs with only your pajamas on. "Who's even awake at this time of night..." You grumbled quietly to yourself.

The reason to why you had woken up in the middle of the night was due to the loud noises outside the restaurant; you had heard the sound of an engine revving up. You could have brushed it off as some teen that was joy-riding out on the town. But it sounded like it was nearby instead of zooming by your restaurant.

When you reached the ground floor, you tip-toed to the entrance of the restaurant and cracked open the door, poking your head out. Nothing, not even the sound of some teen or drunkard cheering in the distance.

You closed and locked the door, frowning as you did so. Where the hell can that sound be coming from then?

As you made your way back to the stairs, you noticed light coming out from the threshold of the garage door. The garage door was located just past the stairs, and your food souls usually went back there to take the scooters for deliveries or to repair their equipment.

A mixture of irritation and curiosity made you stop. Well, it was your restaurant and your garage. You had no choice. You made your way towards the door and pushed it open, "What on earth are you...B-52? Is something the matter?" Your jaded glare turned into a look of concern when you saw B-52 standing in the middle of the garage. Beside him, a large object sat concealed by a white cloth.

"Master Attendant, what are you doing up this late at night?" He asked, his stare blank as ever. You squinted your eyes at him. There was something off, and you couldn't tell if it was real or if your fatigue was playing tricks on you.

You walked towards him, letting the garage door swing shut behind you. "I'm the one who should be asking you that question." You halted before him. Wearily you raised your hand to brush the upper left side of his face, the place where his eyepatch usually was. "Oh...it's not there." You forgot yourself and proceeded to run your hands across his cheeks until he gently grabbed your wrists, nudging your hands away.

B-52 noted the warmth that still lingered on his cheeks after he nudged your hands away. "Yes, my eyepatch is left behind in my room." You took a step back, your eyes scanning him from head to toe. He sported a dark cyan plain shirt underneath a biker jacket and a pair of cargo pants, his normal attire nowhere in sight. He seemed a lot different.

"That's a new look for you. Going out for a ride?" You asked as you placed your hand on the concealed object. After testing its stability, you leaned against it. You didn't see it, but B-52's body stiffened at your words.

"I'm...not," He stalled in the middle of his sentence as a feeling started to well up in his chest. Did he feel guilty for lying to you and waking you up in the middle of the night? "You should return to bed, Master Attendant."

You attempted to stare him down before letting out a yawn, resting your entire weight on the object. "Maybe. You should be getting some rest too, B-52. I might plan an exploration tomorrow." Before B-52 answered you, he heard the large object let out a small groan at the weight before it started to tilt backward with you following it.

Ah, You thought dramatically. shoot.

"Master Attendant!" B-52 lurched forward, quickly grabbing it and stopping it from moving back any further. Your eyes widened after feeling like you almost fell over. "Please be more careful. You could have gotten injured," He told you as you backed away from the object.

"So, want to tell me what's underneath?" Your hands were now resting on your hips as B-52 glanced between you and the object. Finally, the food soul let out a sigh. He couldn't hide it any longer. He pulled off the white sheet, revealing a motorbike underneath.

You stared at it, "Where did you get it?"

"I got it during one of the explorations in the City of Ruins this week." B-52 folded up the sheet and set it aside. "Brownie and Coffee helped me bring it back to the Restaurant, but Coffee warned me not to tell you anything about it. Not yet at least," He moved aside the toolbox before he mounted the motorbike.

You hummed in thought. Looks like you'd have to deal with Coffee in the morning. "How long did it take for you to fix this up? It's in good shape," you said with a smile as you touched the waxed, smooth surface of the bike. "Are you taking it out for a ride now?"

B-52 could see the smile you had. It was hard to ignore the fact that you looked exhausted (and you were in your pj's) but the smile was bright and eager. The food soul wondered if it was a good idea to bring his Master Attendant out for a ride at this time of night. "I think it's best you get some sleep..." He trailed off when your smile turned into a pout, and you stared at him with the biggest eyes you could muster.

"Please?"

He let out a sigh as he kicked up the main stand, "Get on, but please hold on tight." You let out a small cheer. Before you mounted the bike, he had removed his jacket and held it out to you. "Wear this. You can not leave wearing only your pajamas."

Suddenly remembering you were only wearing pajamas, you took the jacket from him and smiled gratefully. "Thanks, I think you food souls look after me more than I look after you." You mounted the bike and wrapped your arms around his waist, awkwardly. "You don't feel restrained or... awkward?"

He turned off the lights and opened up the garage door, "I don't think I do. How would you describe that feeling?"

"Like a weird tension surrounding us? That feeling."

He revved up the engine before he slowly drove out, "No, I don't detect it." He drove at a slow pace before he started to pick it up, "Please hang on tight, Master Attendant."

~Extended ending~

When the both of you returned to the Restaurant, the sun was starting to rise. He made sure the bike was stable before he gently pried your arms away from his waist and got off the bike. "That's why I told you to go to bed instead," He chided you gently. He lifted you off, carrying you carefully in his arms.

He made his way out of the garage and upstairs to your room, all the while feeling warmth in his chest. Occasionally his eyes would flit down to your sleeping form, silently admiring your rosy cheeks and nose. Maybe this is what Coffee describes as love?

He lay you down on your bed and tucked you in, "I'll make sure the others won't bother you until you wake, Master Attendant." he murmured, a soft smile on his lips before he left the room to go and inform the food souls, who were awake early in the morning.