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The hardest thing to get used to, Dom had decided a long time ago, was the early mornings. Rising before the sun hadn’t come easier, nor had the longing for his bed on those days subsided. He had been told it would. It was something that his father had always managed, every morning of every day for as long as Dom could remember. As a child, Dom had tried to wake up with him a few times and found the effort more tiring than it was worth. His father would laugh, rub a hand over his head and say that at least one of them should get some sleep.
Dom told Mia the same thing, years later, when the bakery had been rebuilt and it was his turn to step up to take the mantle that his father left behind.
For his father’s memory, it was worth it, he supposed. And he enjoyed what he did. Creating things, building things – they were what he had always been good at. So he’d had to trade in metal for batter and a spanner for a spatula. The masterpieces were always just as good, the looks on people’s faces – pleasure in their eyes, eyebrows raised impressed, lips parted in awe or tugged upwards into grins – they were all the same.
Plus, he made a mean fondant fancy, if he did say so himself.
Dom set the cooling sweet treats into the display case, careful to not disturb the balance of the delicate confectionary. He did the same with each row, took time to adjust the signs to where they complemented what they were selling the best. It was all about presentation, something that his father had told him echoing back once more.
“Good?” he called to the room. They had trickled in as they always did, half an hour before the store was due to open, and mostly took up the seats that were for paying customers.
Vince glanced up from his breakfast for a second. “Yeah. Looks fine.”
Dom arched an eyebrow, folded his arms across his chest. “Sounds convincing.”
Leon let out a pained sound and dropped his head onto the table. “Dude, you ask us every day. It looked good yesterday and the day before, and it looks good now.”
Dom cracked a grin, let his eyes slip back to the display. One of the muffins needed to be shifted, and he reached for it. A hand slapped his away. Letty pierced him with an irked stare. “You move one more thing, and I’mma force feed you it.” She jerked her head behind her, “Nap time, go. I’ve got this.”
Nap time was something he had objected to, but over a year of this had taught him to take the time to sleep whenever he can. It became put the schedule, as much as it had been part of his father’s. But even with exhaustion stinging the back of his eyes until it was hard to see straight, Dom wouldn’t have left if he didn’t trust Letty and the others full heartedly. They would get the store open, as they did every morning, and hold down the fort until just before noon where Dom would rise, refreshed and ready to start the next shift. He shrugged off his apron, hanging it up behind him. He dropped a kiss to Letty’s crown, called for Vince to make sure that Mia got to school on time, and took his leave upstairs to the cubby.
Dom had spent a lot of time there as a kid, and after the fire had taken everything, he’d made sure that this room was restored to the same glory as the rest of the shop. Even knowing that the walls were not the same ones that his grandfather had built by hand, or that the bed was nothing like the one that had smelt of Old Spice, it was hard not to stare at the ceiling and think he was back in that moment. It made it easier to sleep there.
~
Dom had regulars, ones that he would consider friends if he had to. There was a handful of little old ladies, where it was just part of their daily routine to stop by. Dom didn’t have the patience to listen to talk of grandchildren or complaints about new building works in the area, but he knew when to hum in agreement or disapproval. Mia would cover the rest. There were a few families, kids that would run in after school for their treat, parents that would stop in for lunch. There was a football team on Thursdays, and on Friday, the arts society came in. Saturday evenings, the space was rented out for a woman’s book club.
And then there was Brian. He was the only one that Dom knew by name, the one who had introduced himself with a wide smile the first time they met, hand reaching over the display case to be shook. He came in everyday like clockwork, always at the same time. 2pm. He always ordered the same thing – tuna no crust and a dark chocolate chip brownie - to the point that Dom was pretty sure he could make a revolving door system if he wanted to.
Dom had shuffled Mia off to leave for her next class beforehand. She shot him a knowing look over his shoulder that he dutifully ignored. He distracted himself with other customers, with putting the second tray of blueberry muffins into place, and with refilling the whip cream dispenser until he heard Mia call her goodbyes.
“Learn something,” he called back absentmindedly.
Her reply – “Promise!” – was blocked out by the shaking of the canister. He didn’t miss her greeting however, or the familiar voice that responded. He tensed, though he didn’t want to, and pretended to be unaffected. He continued as if he wasn’t listening to the small talk, and refused to turn to the counter until he heard the slight creak of the glass and the words, “Hey Dom.”
“Alright Officer,” the words fell from his mouth automatically, and he wiped his hand on the front of the apron as he approached the till. Brian grinned at him charmingly from where his head rested on his arms, and Dom found himself smirking in return.
It had been strange, that first time that a man in full police garb had wandered into the bakery. Dom had been fresh out of Lompoc, and not looking to going back anytime soon. His hands had still smelt like oil back then and the thrill of the race still lingered in his heart. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had wanted nothing more than for his father’s business to live once more, he might have refused service. It was an idea he entertained for all of two seconds before the blond had smiled at him and asked what was good.
“Everything,” Dom had answered blandly.
“Hmm, how modest,” he had teased.
“Who needs modesty when you know how good you are?” Dom had shot back.
An eyebrow had rocketed upwards, and then there was the laugh that Dom had heard in his head for the days that followed. It wasn’t the first time he had been hopelessly attracted to a man, but it was definitely the first time it had been a cop. He’d kept the man at a distance, not wanting to get involved, listened too much to Vince’s bitching as if that might seep in and correct what he was feeling. But it was a fruitless task. He still smiled when the cop teased, looked for blond in crowds and that brilliant blue in their eyes. He flirted effortlessly and felt his chest hurt when it was returned.
These moments were the favourites in his day. He pretended they weren’t though- he played the part, acted as if he didn’t a record of everything that Brian had ever ordered, anything he’d ever expressed a liking to, filed away in his mind. Brian always looked at him as if he knew this, but never called him on it.
“Tuna, no crust, and one brownie please,” Brian informed.
Dom began to move before he had even finished talking. Dom asked about his morning, and let Brian’s smooth retelling of events – traffic violations, the one house call, the feeling of dread he was feeling at having to work the night shift that evening – wash over him as he prepared.
Food was handed over, and Brian tipped like he was at a restaurant. Usually, he would wink when he made his gratitude and make his way over to the table by the window. It was a place that he could watch the world go back – and where Dom could watch him. Today though, he hesitated for a moment and then asked, “You make cakes to order right?”
Dom eyed him considering for a moment. “We do.”
“Could I place an order for one? It’s my godson’s birthday this weekend, and he wants a formula one cake. I know it's short notice, I’m happy to pay extra, you’d be going me a huge solid.”
He looked earnest, a little desperate and pleading, and Dom was satisfied to note that the blond wasn’t aware that he had been ready to agree without knowing any of the details. A small part of him reminded Dom that allowing someone else that kind of power could only end badly. The rest of him argued back with, ‘but it’s Brian’, as if that was a suitable answer to ease concerns.
“Formula one, huh?” Dom arched an eyebrow. “You got any designs?”
Brian brightened, and Dom tried not to be so obviously dazzled by it. “I can get you some. I’ll drop them by after my – night shift, shit.” He stopped, chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. His eyes rose to meet Dom’s, critical and wondering before he hesitantly offered, “Do you have a number?”
Dom had agreed and given his personal one, before he had even considered mentioning that the bakery had a landline and an email address specifically for situations like these. Brian typed it into his phone, grinned when he promised to send him what was needed by tonight, and finally walked away. Dom felt a little worse for wear, like the sudden change in routine had left him vulnerable to attacks. He remembered his number now comfortably in Brian’s possession and thought, maybe that wasn’t so much of an over exaggeration.
~
By dinner, Dom had received an image text of a typical, red formula one car with the caption, ‘there was clapping so we think we’ve got a winner’. He replied with a level of professionalism that, at this point, was more to keep face than anything else. He expected that to be it, nothing else, but he found that his phone vibrated its way through the meal, and well into some Die Hard wannabe movie that Leon had picked. He tried to be subtle, but anyone who knew him was aware that he and subtly didn’t work in sync, and there’s only so many times he can drift to his phone before someone was going to say something.
“I’ve never seen you so glued to your phone,” Mia commented. She eyed him curiously, borderline suspicious.
“Just talking about work stuff,” Dom murmured. His phone vibrated against his leg, and his hand snapped to it. Brian told him about some drunk and disorderly or who tried to make his one phone call through his shoe, and Dom pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing aloud.
Letty snorted, kicked his thigh with her bare foot, jolting him from the text. “Yeah,” she said dryly, unconvinced, “Work stuff.”
Dom’s shoulders arched a little. “It’s nothing, alright?” he insisted, defensive.
“You got yourself a girlfriend, ain’t nothing to hide,” Vince shrugged.
“Or a boyfriend,” Mia added tacitly. Dom met her gaze head on. He made sure to keep his expression blank - a skill he had perfected with his stints in police stations and jail cells - but Mia was his sister. He’d never been able to find things from her, same way she’d never been able to hide things from him. It was something that they both hated from time to time. She looked at him like she knew, and her lips pulled into a wide smile. Smug.
His phone vibrated again, and Dom tried not to react to it.
Vince looked at him over the rim of his Corona. He swallowed with a long sigh, and said, “Just answer the dude, okay? If he can put up with you, the least you can do is answer the poor bastard.”
“It’s not like that,” Dom insisted, abet halfheartedly. It was the truth, even if it didn’t entirely feel like it.
“But you want it to be, right?” Leon pointed out, inclining his head.
Dom didn’t say anything. He tapped his fingers against the arm of the sofa, once, twice, before forcing his fingers to still. The little light on his phone flashed green, alerting him to unanswered messages. He resisted the urge to reach down, as if resisting would somehow make his feelings less so. They were still watching him, all attention drawn from the television screen so that explosions and gunshots were just background noise to his interrogation. Their eyes made his skin crawl, made his hackles rise, and it became easier to remain unresponsive. Not that his family would have any of that.
“So what’s his name?” Letty questioned, “We know him?”
Dom breathed out heavily. “We’re dropping this. Now.”
There were noises of objection, that he cut off with a warning gaze. Silence fell, but lips were pressed together, unhappy with the turn of events. Mia watched him for a little while longer, and Dom purposely ignored her, acting as if his attention had returned to the action on the screen.
Next time, when his phone vibrated, Dom answered and no one said a word.
~
“We’ve done bigger projects than this,” Dom reminded.
Letty looked at him from over the side of his phone, where the image of the car was displayed and ready for use. “Not in such a short space of time,” she insisted, “We need time to get more supplies in, to figure out the logistics.”
She wasn’t wrong, Dom knew that. With designs this big, this extravagant, the required time needed to be given in advance was usually up to ten days. Less than seven wasn’t even ideal, it was borderline ridiculous. He shouldn’t have agreed, not without the approval of the others. It was just bad management. He didn’t regret it though, not even a little bit, because there was something about the way that Brian had smiled at him when he had agreed; something about the text messages that were always meaningless in their context but meaningful in their existence. He felt like something had changed, something that he had been skirting around since their first meeting. He couldn’t just go back on his word. It wasn’t good business, one side of him said. Brian wouldn’t be happy, the other added. Dom was almost ashamed to say that he didn’t know which one he cared about more.
“We can do this,” he insisted. “We’ll just have to wing it a little.”
“Wing it?” Letty repeated slowly. Her eyes narrowed, and widened a moment later in realisation. Her hand smacked on the counter, sharp in the quiet. “Oh shit, you’re really into this guy aren’t you?”
Dom didn’t look up from where he was mixing batter. “I like him well enough.”
“You wanna impress him,” Letty argued back.
“Maybe. What does it matter?” Dom snapped back.
“It means this shit gotta be good.” Letty bit, stormed from side of the kitchen to the other. She roughly tugged off her apron, hung it up carelessly, and grabbed her car keys from beside the mixer.
He called, “where are you going?” and received, “to get your damn eggs!” before the back door slammed shut. It ricocheted from the force of it. Dom shook his head as he laughed and returned his attention to the methodical mixing of batter.
The arrival of the cavalry was announced by loud voices before the door swung open. Letty, with Leon and Vince at her heels placed the 24 pack of eggs with more force than necessary on the counter, and returned to her rightful place with a determined look.
“Let’s do this shit,” she declared.
“I’ve got the detailing,” Leon decided, grabbed the bag of icing and moving to a clear space.
Vince hesitated. “Don’t ask me to do anything complicated,” he pleaded. Dom grinned - his friend had never been much of a cook, let alone a baker. He’d seen Vince burn pasta when they were fourteen, and made the decision that he was never to be left in charge of food stuffs.
“Think you can make the stand? We need supports for at least three, maybe four layers, plus a base and supports for the side windows,” Dom listed, glanced back to the design bright on his phone screen, and back again.
“On it brother,” Vince agreed, relieved, clapped him on the shoulder, and made to leave for a wood run.
Dom watched him leave, and passed his eye across the rest of the kitchen. He allowed himself a smile, even if it was big and felt stupid, because the feeling in his chest was warm and affectionate. His family.
“Hey, no time to get sappy, we have work to do,” Letty scolded, and hip checked him as she passed to get her hands on the scales.
He didn’t comment on it, but later when he moved to put the first set of layers into the oven, he dropped a kiss to her crown in silent gratitude.
~
Brian texted him the delivery address on the Friday night. It was accompanied with a ‘can’t wait’ and a winky face that Dom tried not to think too much into. It took all their hands to get the masterpiece into the back of the delivery truck the next morning, and it was in there, Dom sprayed it with holding solution, just in case. Leon and Letty fought over the GPS until Mia stepped in, taking it pointedly from their hands and attached it to her car. There was no arguments that she would lead them.
There was a part of Dom that wanted to request that the others stay home while he made the delivery, as if by keeping distance between Brian and his family would allow him to ignore what he was feeling for just a little while longer. He knew, however, that it was something that would only draw more questions - he had already declared that he would make the delivery himself. Vince’s eyes narrowed, Mia had grinned, Letty had rolled her eyes and Leon had snorted. Tell them to stay behind, and he might accidentally commission the restart of the Spanish Inquisition.
So he bit his tongue, got into the driver’s seat of the truck and waited for Mia to pull out of the lot.
He didn’t expect Vince to climb into the passenger’s seat. The man looked at him with set lips and a locked jaw. It was easy to guess what was coming. His friend had never been one for patience - Dom had learnt that when they were eight, and they’d stolen the video supposed to be a reward for a good week and skipped class to watch it because the afternoon was taking too long to get there - so it left him oddly uneasy when Vince didn’t immediately launch into questioning.
Driving was used to keep his tensions low. It always had. There was something methodical about manual controls, where you have to move and act, where all parts of you had to be focused on what they were doing otherwise it was jerk and stall and ultimately a mocking for your incompetence. Getting behind the wheel, even if it was behind the wheel of a van that couldn’t do more than 60mph before whining its complaints, was comforting and nostalgic. Made him think back to the Charger that still sat in the garage, and the thrill of the race and the urge to speed up would overtake him. It was often in these moments that he would consider returning to the underground racing scene, see whether the competition hadn’t gotten any better, see whether years had left him out of practise, and then the weekend would roll up and work hours would have him crawling into bed grateful before the buy in.
Vince fiddled with the radio before he could even get that far, and the uneasiness returned.
He exhaled, rolled his hands over the steering wheel, and said, “Just say whatever you’re going to say.”
Vince didn’t wait. “Is it serious?”
“Is what serious?” Dom played ignorance.
“This guy. The buster,” Vince used the name that had become Brian’s since they found out he was a cop. It had put his friend on edge as much as it had put him, so used to keeping their distance, and now one had come to them - for cake. It had long since lost the malice it had once held, but it kept some kind of distance that seemed agreeable to both parties. “You fucking him or what?”
Dom snorted. Crude, and to the point, as always. He shook his head slightly. “It’s like I said. It’s nothing but business.”
Vince scoffed. “I ain’t blind. You want him. He wants you. I thought you’d already gotten past the high school step around.”
“He wants me?” Dom echoed, and really did feel like he was still a teenager.
Vince laughed a little disbelieving, lips tugged up with amusement at his expense. “Yeah brother, the buster wants you. You actually gonna do something about it?”
That made it sound so easy. Like it wasn’t something he’d been debating and battling, convincing himself into and out of for nearly a year now. “It’s a kid’s birthday party,” Dom argued weakly.
“So you’re doing it for the kids,” Vince said with a mocking tone and a knowing grin. It was one that hadn’t changed with age, and usually meant that Vince knew he was right about something. Dom hated that look. It almost always meant that he was wrong. Dom pressed his lips together, a clear sign of agitation that Vince willfully ignored to add, “This buster’s changing you already.”
“He’s not,” Dom shot back, a lame comeback if he had ever heard one. His fingers flexed against the steering wheel, and this time, thankfully, Vince kept his reply to himself.
~
When they finally pulled to a stop, cars lined up in front of the sweet suburban house, the stillness only set him on edge. He checked the time on the dash - 12:17, they were early - and glanced towards the manicured lawn, littered with toys. It wasn’t like what he had expected, this side of L.A. like a completely different world to the one he had grown up in. Vince watched him silently for a moment and then asked, “Prom night jitters?”
Dom sent him a dark look, but it was enough to send him from the car. He joined the others on the sidewalk, muttered an order to get ready to unload, and then marched across the lawn like it was no man’s land. One stop, and he might end up limb less. The doorbell rung pleasantly when pressed, and there was a small pause before hurried footsteps could be heard beyond. The door swung open fast, enough that it made Dom rock backwards a little on his heels. The woman grinned up at him, light brown hair flicked over her shoulder and eyes crinkled at the edges. Brian hovered over her shoulder, cheeks flushed, and a breathless smile on his face. They were both breathing heavily, and Dom arched one eyebrow slowly.
“So you’re Dom Toretto,” the woman declared. She braced her hip on the door, folded her arms across her chest and dragged her eyes up him. It was less of a look over and more like a visual shake down. It made Dom stand a little straighter. “You don’t look like a baker,” she finally settled on.
That was familiar ground. A reaction he was used to. He grinned cockily. “A lot of people say that. Doesn’t make it any less true.” His eyes flickered to Brian, lingered. “Hey.”
“Hi,” Brian responded quickly, and shot his companion an irritated look when she didn’t bother to hide the laugh she put behind her hand.
She appeared unaffected by the look, only head out her hand to Dom and introduced herself. “Suki. I’m the one that’s going to be paying you.”
Back to business. Dom accepted the hand, was impressed by the strength in her grip. He gestured his head to the road behind them. “Where do you want it?”
Her eyes followed and widened a little. “It’s in there.”
A brief flash of worry wondered whether it was too much, but he squashed down on that feeling. He dropped her hand, shrugged, and said, “Brian said that the kid wanted a formula one.”
The way that Brian smiled at him made him stare just a little longer than he should of. “Need an extra hand?”
Dom shook his head in negative. “We’ve got it. Just lead the way.”
~
“Holy shit,” was the first thing that Brian said.
“That a good reaction?” Leon asked, grunting under the weight, before breathing a sigh of relief when it was finally placed onto the space cleared on the decorated table.
Dom watched Brian as he waited for an answer, ignoring the twists of doubt that curled in his stomach. He decided this was a feeling he didn’t enjoy. Uncertainty. It wasn’t something that he had felt since his father had passed, and he had been left with a sister, a mortgage and no way to support themselves. He wanted to hate Brian for making him feel this way, but that finality hadn’t settled in when he beamed, eyes bright and announced his love for it. Hatred slipped into something heart wrenchingly pathetic, and Dom struggled to keep his expression cocky rather than sappy.
“That is a big arse cake,” a voice from the hallway declared, followed by the squealing chanting of “cake, cake, cake, cake”.
A man with cane roll looked in complete disbelief, stepped inside as if it were a beast about to attack. The boy in his arms, hair blond against caramel skin, wriggled and squirmed in delight but seemed unable to extract himself from the arms that held him.
“It’s great, right? Told you I knew a guy,” Brian reminded smugly.
The new man nodded slowly. “So you did.” His gaze slid over them, pausing only for a few seconds to take them all in before they reached Dom. There, they stopped entirely, held him there with a stare that seemed just as assessing as Suki’s had been. “You’re Dom, right?”
“Seems everyone knows my name,” he commented lightly, and tried not to let the fact that these people knew more about him than he did about them bother him.
The man cracked a smile. “Well, Bri doesn’t shut up about you.” Surprise flittered obviously across Dom’s face, and his eyes darted to the blond, who scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact. He couldn’t hide the red tips of his ears though, and Dom stared them down as he tried to decide whether that was a good or bad sign. The man from before introducing himself draw his attention away, however reluctantly.
“Tej. This is Hiro,” he gestured to the child on his hip. His arm flexed and the boy lurched a little in the air, landed with practised ease and gleeful giggles.
Mia moved closer and beamed at him. “So it’s your birthday huh?”
“Uh-huh,” Hiro nodded his head eagerly.
“And that’s your cake?” she pointed over her shoulder.
He made noises that generally could be associated with cars. Tej grinned in that kind of pleased father way, and even Vince cracked a smile.
“It’s a big cake, you gonna eat it all by yourself?” Mia asked, and received eager nodding and more engine noises in response.
“Yeah, he wishes,” Suki murmured from the doorway. She took steps into the room, and reached for her baby, draw him closer and nuzzled at his cheek. “What you gonna say to these nice people that make your birthday cake?”
“Thank you very much,” Hiro said as if it had been rehearsed, and looked to his parents for approval.
The group flashed identical pleased smiles, and Dom knew as soon as they were all out of the house there would be plenty of high fives to go around.
~
Dom wasn’t sure how he ended up as a party guest. He had been hesitant at the invitation, feeling entirely out of place with the smiling strangers that made up Brian’s friends, but then the man himself had insisted Dom should. Dom started to steel himself against them- he couldn’t just give in every time the blond wanted him to.
Hiro tugged on his leg, and shouted “up!” over the loud chorus, quickly adding “please” and a winning smile that was definitely his father’s when Dom’s eyes fell to him. He let out a long drawn out sigh, but his hands reached down to slip beneath the kid’s arms, and drew him off the ground.
Apparently, he was the best at playing airplanes.
Under the swing of his arms, he could see Brian smirking. He attempted to hide it a few times behind hands or into his shoulder, but they soon stopped in favour of just watching. He’d been doing that since the party had started. Watching. It was something that Dom was used to, being the King of the Streets granted you that kind of awe and attention, but there was something decidedly different about how Brian looked at him. It made him want to prove something, even if he wasn’t sure what it was.
If he had to airplane, he would be the best damn airplane he could be.
Hiro was giggling deliriously by the time he was let down, staggered a little unsteadily and had to use a fellow playmates shoulder for balance. Dom watched him closely - it would leave a terrible first impression on the family to have the birthday boy barf due to his wildness - as he reached for the next child with their arm raised.
His muscles ached by the time Brian had deemed fit to approach him. He wound his way across the grass, had Dom faltering just for a second before he picked up speed, pretended that he wasn’t affected. The way that Brian looked at him meant that he failed, but was willing to play along.
It was Brian that shooed the kids away - “we didn’t put the bouncy castle up for nothing, ‘ro. Uncle Rome will not be impressed until it deflates” - and when the hoard had left, he took the space they vacated with a turn on his heel.
“Looked like you needed the save,” Brian commented.
“My hero,” Dom drawled back.
That grin widened, teasing and knowing, and Dom’s lips tugged to return it. He pressed them together to stop. But doing that lead to silence, and silence left him on edge. This was so different from the usual interactions between them. There was no buffer of familiarity, or barrier of a counter. For the first time, they weren’t customer and baker. Brian seemed unfazed by this, leaning closer until the temptation to reach out to touch had Dom’s hands clenching.
“Did I say thank you for the cake? It’s just seriously incredible. You spoilt him,” Brian teased.
Dom shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “Kid’s only four once.”
Brian hummed. “And don’t he know it. First baby.” He elaborated, like Dom hadn’t guessed from the spectacle before him. “He’ll expect that every year now.” It didn’t sound like an accusation, even if it were placed as one.
“I’m not going to refuse the business,” Dom gave a small shrug.
The blond hummed, and slid his foot closer. His body moved, smooth and graceful, and a teasing grin played on his lips. Their eyes locked, blue to brown, and even if Dom wanted to look away, it would have been impossible. It felt like his brain had lost control of his legs, and they could think of nothing to do without direct orders. It felt like his heart was going double time just to make up for the lack of control. When Brian finally spoke, the words were heavy with meaning he wasn’t too sure he was okay to deal with. “Just the business?”
But then, flirting was a familiar thing for him. It was something he could do as naturally as driving, and - he told himself firmly - no pretty blond was going to change that. It was oddly easy to regain control of the situation. He’d had it in his mind that Brian would have pushed back, demanded his power back, but when Dom relaxed his shoulders and let a smirk tug across his face, Brian seemed content to fall beneath his presence.
“I thought I already had you,” Dom commented, felt confident enough in those words.
Brian’s eyes never left his, his smile never dropped, but his lips did press together to hum. Agreement. It sent a thrill through him.
His lips pulled wider, and Brian’s mimicked. It was Dom’s turn to move closer now, not enough to touch - if he touched, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop, and a children’s party was no place for what he had in mind - but enough for the intention to be clear. Brian angled closer. Dom flexed his fingers at his sides.
Somewhere beyond, there was a groan, loud and anguished. It sliced through the charged energy between them like a sword, and Dom blinked, breaking the spell. He glanced irritated over Brian’s shoulder. A dark skinned man he had yet to meet - but had seen from a distance when he arrived, drawing Brian into a hug that had worried Dom for a second - watched them with hawk like eyes and a screwed up face.
“Oh hell no, that’s Dom?” he demanded.
Dom’s gaze dropped back to Brian. “I’m popular here.”
Brian looked sheepish. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he muttered, before he moved, half turning his body to face his friend, like he didn’t want to fully break away from their interaction. His voice rose to say, “This is why we can’t take you anywhere, Rome.”
Rome seemed to ignore him, eyes still on Dom and examining critically. Dom didn’t bother rising to the challenge. “I thought he’d be bigger.”
This made Dom arch an eyebrow, and he heard Letty’s familiar snort from somewhere close by.
“Bigger than you,” Brian shot back.
“We’ll see about that,” Rome retorted.
Dom interjected. “I ain’t dropping my draws to find out.”
Rome gawked and Vince added, slightly pained, “thank the lord.”
Leon flicked his finger against the back of Vince’s head. “As if you ain’t seen it all before, cuz.”
Vince batted him away. “That was once. And we were ten.”
“Want me to update you on what’s changed?” Brian teased. Vince shot him a dark look. Mia laughed into her hand.
“Mama, what are they talking about?” Hiro’s voice, innocent and in a child’s version of a whisper, questioned.
“Cake,” Suki informed him sternly. Her gaze went to the adults, narrowed, lingered long enough for the men to squirm. “They’re talking about cake.”
Hiro’s face brightened. “Cake, cake, cake, cake,” he chanted eagerly.
“Let me cut that for you, ‘ro,” Rome quickly offered, the need to placate the intention behind his actions. Hiro seemed unaware as he made a beeline for the cake, grasping his uncle’s hand to drag Rome along. Dom watched as the other kids formed a crowd around the table, and waiting impatiently for their slice.
An arm brushed against his. “Rome has never been so popular,” Brian mocked. Dom huffed a laugh, and pushed back more insistently against Brian’s forearm. It made smiles widen. The scene was observed silently for a moment, comfortable as they were, before Brian interrupted it. “Do you want cake?”
Dom gave a small shrug. More touching. Brian grinned and made a path towards the hoard that Dom found difficult not to watch. It was easy not to care when Letty made a whip gesture in their air. He flipped her off over children’s heads, and her laughter only made smiling easier.
(The cake was a big hit, thankfully good, especially for only a week's worth of preparation. It was better when Brian fed it to him. It was amazing when he chased the taste with a press of lips).