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The whole thing is Josuke’s fault, Joseph thinks furiously, head in his hands, his leg bouncing up and down nervously. Caesar’s in the kitchen, whistling some old Italian song as steak sizzles in the pan. The bottle of red wine Joseph brought home is sitting on the counter– the fancy kind, because Caesar doesn’t like the way the cheap stuff tastes. Joseph has literally been wearing Caesar’s clothes for the past week. It’s nice, homey. Domestic.
It’s also destroying Joseph’s soul.
Fucking Josuke.
--
One week ago, Joseph met up with Josuke to catch up over coffee. He’d barely seen his little cousin since he’d moved to the city; now that Josuke is here for university, it was the least Joseph could do as a responsible adult to treat him to some coffee and cake.
That was all well and good. He’s always gotten along well with Josuke despite the age gap. The coffee was superb, the conversation flowed smoothly, they both took little jibes at each other as they were always wont to do, it was like old times. Joseph had been having a grand time, laughing it up and soaking in nostalgia.
And then the phone call came.
The call itself was nothing spectacular, just Caesar checking in and asking what Joseph wanted for dinner. Caesar was just coming down from a nasty cold, ill enough that Joseph refused to let him go into work but well enough that he was starting to get restless. Joseph scolded him for trying to cook when he should be sleeping (“You’d just get snot in the food, idiot!”) and said he’d buy back the nice beef stroganoff from that one place Caesar really likes and told him to not, under any circumstances, watch that day’s Masterchef without Joseph. Standard, everyday stuff, really.
Only, when Joseph hung up and turned back to his cousin, Josuke’s eyebrows were raised so high they were practically disappearing into his hairline. “Bro,” he said, sounding mortally offended. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?”
Joseph frowned. “I’m not?” he said, confused. “Why would you say that?”
“Uh, the phone call?” Josuke said, like it was supposed to be obvious.
Which, of course, it wasn’t, because, “That was just Caesar. You know, my roommate I’ve been telling you about? His mom made cannolis for me to bring home last Christmas–”
“Dude,” Josuke interrupted, his face suddenly gravely serious. “You know I’d be cool with you having a boyfriend, right? Like, it’s not a big deal, I’d support you all the way.”
Why was Josuke bringing that up now? “Uh, thanks?” Joseph said uncertainly. “But–”
“I’m just salty because you didn’t tell me about it,” Josuke continued, pouting a little. “I get why, of course, but this seems like a pretty serious relationship, and you know that I, of all people, would never judge you–”
It was a little too much information for Joseph to handle at once. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said, shaking his head to clear it. “Let me get this straight. You think Caesar and I have a serious relationship?”
“Well, you watch Masterchef together every day and haven’t shut up about him since we sat down, so yes.”
Joseph felt lost. “Well, we aren’t,” he told him lamely, mind reeling. Caesar was his best friend! Wasn’t it normal to follow TV series with friends? And of course he had lots to say about Caesar, he was the one person Joseph came into contact with the most, seeing as they, y’know, lived together. And one more thing, “What do you mean, you of all people?”
Josuke froze. “Uh.”
--
And then Josuke came out to him, but that’s a whole different story.
--
Josuke didn’t know what he was talking about, Joseph thought to himself, feeling weirdly outraged about the whole thing, as he stomped up the stairs with plastic bags of takeaway in his hands. (He used to take the lift, but Caesar insisted they take the stairs because it was better for their health.)
Josuke was just– trying to rile Joseph up, probably. The kid probably didn’t know anything about dating, anyway. He obviously couldn’t appreciate the fact that two fully-grown, attractive adults could live together without being in a romantic relationship. Why, Joseph had shared flats with equally if not more attractive people than Caesar (who, despite his handsome face, Joseph knew for a fact could stuff three whole slices of double pepperoni pizza into his mouth at once) and had never had any inclination to date them. Caesar was no different.
Joseph texted that to Josuke immediately, stabbing at his phone with just enough force as was necessary. It was justified! After all, it was an absolutely preposterous idea. Imagine, Joseph and Caesar, dating. Ridiculous.
That’s because you’re already dating him, Josuke replied almost instantaneously, like he didn’t have any studying to do. Can’t miss something you already have.
That– That was–
YOU ARE WRONG, Joseph typed back furiously, and shoved his phone into his pocket as he wrenched the door to his flat open.
“Hey,” he called, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. “You feeling better?”
Caesar’s head popped out from the huge pile of blankets on the sofa. “Could be worse,” he grumbled, his nose stuffy and his hair in a mess, but his eyes lit up at the sight of the plastic bag in Joseph’s hand.
Joseph grinned. “I got lasagne, too, we can share,” he said, setting the plastic bag down on the coffee table to strip off his coat. Caesar was already budging up to make room, clicking through their recordings to put on Masterchef.
“Cold,” Caesar complained when Joseph burrowed into the blanket-nest with him and tucked his feet under Caesar’s thighs.
“Warm,” Joseph replied smugly, and handed Caesar his beef stroganoff. “Shit, they forgot to give me another spoon. Ah, whatever, we’ll just share.”
“I’m sick, idiot,” Caesar protested, eyes glued to the TV. “Just get up off your ass and go get one from the kitchen.”
“But I’m lazy,” Joseph whined, sprawling himself over Caesar as annoyingly as possible. “I’m probably already infected anyway!”
“Don’t come crying to me when you get sick,” Caesar sniffed, giving up. “Now shut up, we’re missing the show.”
Joseph shut up and rearranged his limbs into a more comfortable position against Caesar, warm and familiar, settling in to wait patiently for the spoon. Josuke was obviously delusional, Joseph decided. What did he know about Joseph and Caesar? Absolutely nothing. After all, here Joseph was, basically cuddled up to Caesar, and he had no particular desire to date him or kiss him or otherwise be romantic with him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Really? Josuke had texted.
Joseph groaned and buried his phone under a cushion, where its buzzing could plague him no longer.
--
See, the thing is.
That was just the beginning. The first day. The calm before the storm. Everything is all messed up now, and it’s all thanks to goddamn Josuke. If Josuke hadn’t come to university in the city, Joseph would never have met up with him. If they’d never met up, Josuke would never have assumed that Joseph and Caesar were dating. If he’d never assumed they were dating, he’d never have brought it up. If he’d never brought it up, Joseph would never have thought about it. And if Joseph had never thought about it, he’d be living his life in perfect happiness.
But all that happened, and since then Joseph couldn’t stop thinking about it.
--
On Monday, Joseph let Caesar sleep in and went to the gym by himself. Caesar’d called in sick from work, anyway, and he needed the rest. It was harder to stay awake and motivated to work out without Caesar’s annoying chatter in the car. Plus, the coffee machine was some fancy complicated thing Caesar refused to let Joseph touch lest he break it, so Joseph was running on zero caffeine this morning.
Needless to say, Joseph was a little grumpy when he stepped into the locker room.
“Hey,” he grunted at Messina and Loggins, heading for his usual locker across from them. Both men did a double take at the sight of him, eyes wide and nearly bugging out of their heads.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Messina asked, concerned.
Oh God, not this again. Joseph was not in the mood. “He’s not my boyfriend!” he snapped, letting his bag slam down onto the bench.
Messina and Loggins looked at each other, seemingly holding an entire conversation solely with their eyebrows. (Well, eyebrow ridge, for Loggins, seeing as he was taking clean-shaven to new heights.) Joseph ignored them both, mood even darker than before, and hung his work clothes up in his locker before slamming it shut.
“I’m sure whatever it is he did, he didn’t mean it,” Loggins tried hesitantly.
Joseph wanted to strangle something. A fight. They thought he and Caesar were having a lover’s spat. Because they thought they were dating. Goddamnit!
“We’re not fighting,” Joseph bit out, fuming. “He’s sick, had a fever last night. And we’re not dating, either!”
The two men exchanged worried glances. “Alright,” Loggins said slowly, obviously humouring him. “Hang in there, kid.”
“You’re good for each other, you and Caesar,” Messina added. “Don’t give up without a fight.”
“Wh– I told you, we aren’t–!”
“Okay, okay, we got it.” They clapped his back, friendly and kind, and headed for the door.
“But we really aren’t dating!” Joseph shouted frantically at their backs.
His only answer was the sound of the door swinging shut.
“Why,” Joseph moaned, and buried his face in his hands.
--
On Tuesday, Joseph brought out his lunch at work and found that Caesar’d made the little octopus-sausages Joseph loved. Last week, Joseph would have Snapchatted his lunch with a thank you and be done with it, but today Joseph was stressing over whether or not regular friends and roommates made cutesy lunches for each other. No, said Josuke’s voice in his head. Caesar hates the octopus-sausages and would never do them for himself. Which means he took the extra effort to make these specifically for you.
Did that mean they were dating??
“Ooh, nice,” Smokey commented, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Man, I wish I could get lunches like those. You’re lucky.”
And comments like these! Last week, Joseph would have assumed Smokey was only jealous of his lunch, but no, said Josuke’s voice, like a stubborn bastard, he’s jealous of the relationship he thinks you’re in.
“Don’t say that,” Joseph snapped, more viciously than Smokey deserved, scaring the poor kid out of the break room. He’d apologise to him later, but right now Joseph couldn’t believe that everyone he knew seemed to believe he and Caesar were dating.
The worst thing was, people at the office had been making these sorts of comments for literally months.
Even his coworkers thought he’d been dating Caesar. For months.
Months.
Joseph let his face fall on the table, feeling very much like crying.
--
On Wednesday, Joseph came home feeling shitty.
“I told you,” Caesar had been saying for the last ten minutes. “I told you you’d get sick if we shared a spoon, but did you listen? No, no you didn’t, because you’re a huge idiot.”
Joseph, wrapped up in a blanket cocoon on the sofa, coughed pathetically. “Yes, okay, you were right, I was wrong, will you please start making me feel better? My throat feels like I’ve been eating gravel.”
“Stop whining, you’re only getting what you deserve,” Caesar told him. Stone cold.
“I did nothing to deserve your nagging,” Joseph mumbled, and there was a pointed clang from the kitchen, but otherwise there was no response. “Could you at least change the channel? You know I hate Wheel of Fortune.”
“You’re supposed to be sweating out a fever, not enjoying yourself,” Caesar grumped, but changed it to Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader? anyway.
“This isn’t much better,” Joseph whined, squirming in his cocoon. Maybe if he wriggled enough, he could get out–
“Lie still and suffer,” Caesar snapped, “or I’ll turn it off.”
Joseph gasped dramatically, feeling betrayal shoot through his chest. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
…He would. Joseph shut up.
He was actually able to get into the show, eventually, and was shouting answers at the screen when Caesar finally emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of food. Joseph nearly teared up. Caesar was the best roommate, cooking something delicious for poor sick Joseph–
“It’s plain congee,” Caesar declared, setting one down on the coffee table. “Yum yum.”
Joseph teared up for a totally different reason. “Caesar,” he wailed even though it made his throat hurt like a bitch, kicking so hard he actually managed to unravel the blanket cocoon. “That’s sick people food!”
“You are a sick people! Eat it!”
Joseph made a disgusted noise (that came out even more horrible than he’d intended thanks to all the phlegm in his throat), but sat up and took the bowl begrudgingly. He took a sip. The hot congee soothed his itchy throat as it went down, and all the fight drained out of him at once. Plain congee was sick people food for a reason.
“No chicken, no eggs, no dairy, no deep-fried food,” Caesar reminded him, settling down next to him with his own bowl of congee. His, Joseph noticed enviously, had salted eggs and chicken strips. “I texted your boss and called in sick for you, get some rest tomorrow.”
Joseph blinked. “You have my boss’ phone number?”
“No, I texted her from your phone.”
“Oh,” said Joseph, dumbfounded. Caesar knew his passcode. Which wasn’t surprising, seeing as he knew Caesar’s, and yet it was sort of blowing his mind. Was it normal for friends to do that? Was it weird that Caesar didn’t ask? And that Joseph didn’t care?
“Was that okay?” Caesar asked, interrupting Joseph’s freak-out. “I’ve texted people for you before, so…”
He had, hadn’t he. Several times. Joseph had never thought anything of it until now. Goddamn it, Josuke!
“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” Joseph assured him, mind still reeling. Caesar didn’t look convinced, so he nudged Caesar gently with his shoulder. “Hey, thanks.”
Caesar smiled and nudged back, and to Joseph’s horror, his heart squeezed tight in his chest at the casual contact. “No problem.”
Joseph flashed him a quick smile, then quickly turned back to his congee and the TV, feeling inexplicably warm where Caesar’s shoulder touched his.
What was going on?
--
On Thursday, Joseph woke up from his nap to a hand on his forehead.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Caesar whispered, pulling the blankets up over Joseph’s shoulders. “Go back to sleep.”
“What time is it?” Joseph mumbled, sleep-heavy.
“About six. I was just about to go to the supermarket, you want anything?”
“Mm, I’ll come with you.” He started to sit up, blinking the sleep away from his eyes.
“It’s okay, you need your rest,” Caesar tried, looking concerned.
“I’ve been resting all day. You won’t get the tasty unhealthy snacks if I don’t go with you, anyway.”
Caesar laughed, fingers combing gently through Joseph’s undoubtedly terrible bedhead. “You’re not supposed to be eating those,” he chided softly. “Your fever’s gone down, so I guess you can come. Five minutes?”
Joseph hummed, stretching to wake his body up. Caesar ruffled his hair affectionately and left the room, closing the door with a soft click. Joseph could feel warm contentment in his chest, steady and strong, just from that small exchange.
Was it weird? a part of Joseph asked.
Who cares, the rest of him replied.
(This, of course, was when Joseph was still half-asleep and obviously out of his mind. That night, he excused himself to his room after doing the dishes and promptly screamed into his pillow.
“What is wrong with me?” he moaned pathetically, but no answer came.)
--
On Friday, Joseph and Caesar dug out their best bottle of wine and went to dinner with Joseph’s parents. It had been planned several weeks in advance, ever since his mother found out she’d have to make a business trip into the city and demanded they both dine with her. His father, nosy as he was, tagged along just to meet Caesar. At the time, Joseph had been bewildered but amused at their curiosity about his roommate, but now he was beginning to suspect that they, too, had somehow gotten the wrong impression.
Especially since his father got misty-eyed every time Caesar served Joseph from the sharing platter before himself, and his mother kept asking questions like, “What do you like about Joseph?” and “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
To his credit, Caesar answered the weird questions with his usual charismatic ease, seemingly oblivious to the romantic slant to them. Joseph himself probably wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the ordinary if Josuke hadn’t planted the seed in his mind.
As things were, however, the entire situation was making Joseph very flustered. “What is this, a job interview?” he complained to his mother. “Caesar, you don’t have to answer any of these.”
“Come on, Jojo, it’s only natural for a mother to want to know more about who her son is consorting with,” his mother argued, waving off Joseph’s whinging.
“Yes, son,” his father agreed. “You wouldn’t stop talking about him over Christmas, of course we’d be curious!”
“I did not!” Joseph yelled, trying hard not to go red.
Caesar elbowed him in the side. “Stop yelling, you’ll get us kicked out,” he said, looking smug. Joseph made a supremely ugly face at him to disguise his embarrassment. Caesar made an even uglier face back, much to Joseph’s delight and his parents’ amusement.
“You suit each other well,” his father laughed. “Keep our son in line, won’t you, Caesar?”
“How can he keep me in line when he’s the one getting us into trouble?!”
“I’ll do my best, Mr Joestar,” Caesar replied solemnly. “But given who Joseph is, that might not be possible.”
“Hey!” Joseph protested, but his parents were too busy laughing at him to care.
Later, when they decided to take a stroll through the nearby park before heading home, his mother took his arm and said, “You seem happy.”
Joseph watched as Caesar gestured animatedly, telling Joseph’s father about some restaurant they’d tried the week before. “I guess I am,” he replied quietly, honest and vulnerable.
“Good,” his mother hummed, squeezing his arm. “Then we’re happy, too.”
“Good,” Joseph repeated faintly, blindsided by the fact that his parents approved of his boyfriend who wasn’t actually his boyfriend.
And that he hadn’t corrected them once all night.
--
And that’s how Joseph ended up here, sitting on his sofa, questioning his entire existence, right before he has a steak-and-red-wine dinner not-date with his not-boyfriend, except he isn’t sure if it actually is a not-date with his not-boyfriend, or a real-date with his real-boyfriend that he’d been real-dating for months and months, and–
Basically, Joseph is losing his shit.
“Jojo, set the table, will you?” Caesar calls from the kitchen. He sounds like he’s in a good mood, humming a pop song he used to hate until Joseph played it non-stop for three days straight. It makes Joseph’s heart feel warm and content, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.
“Jojo?” Caesar asks when Joseph fails to respond, and pokes his head out of the kitchen to blink at Joseph with concern. He’s wearing the Wonder Woman apron Joseph got for him on a whim three months ago over Joseph’s soft old university hoodie, and must be due for a haircut, because his fringe is tied up into a tiny ponytail on the top of his head, which is both ridiculous and somehow endearing.
And suddenly, just like that, it’s like all of Joseph’s worries fling themselves out the window.
“Hey, Caesar,” he says without really thinking about it, still distracted by the fuzzy feeling in his chest. “Wanna go out with me?”
Caesar pauses, surprised, but doesn’t freak out like Joseph half-thought he might. “Like on a date?” he asks slowly.
Joseph feels like he should be concerned about how calm he is about all this. “Yeah, like a date.”
Caesar eyes him suspiciously, like he thinks Joseph is joking, but something about Joseph’s expression must convince him, because a small, hesitant smile starts to grow on his face. “Sure,” he says, awed, like he doesn’t quite believe what’s happening.
Joseph can’t stop the grin that takes over his features. “Tomorrow?” he asks hopefully, wondering if it’s too soon.
“Tonight?” Caesar suggests, uncharacteristically shy. It’s unbearably cute.
“Tonight it is,” Joseph agrees, and marvels at the way Caesar’s eyes light up when he grins.
--
Joseph’s phone buzzes loudly.
I told you so, Josuke’s sent him, sounding smug even over text.
Too busy making out with my hot boyfriend to care, Joseph texts back, and promptly loses his phone under a sofa cushion.