Once again, Rowan ogles the large amount of food when it comes. He’s not one to judge how much or how little food someone eats—God knows he’s had his own issues with food throughout his life, not only from growing up poor and having to scrounge when he could, but also when he was actively fighting his mental illness and his meds. But it does make him worry that Mal is purposely starving himself. He’d said as much before the gangbang, and Rowan’s not his parent or guardian, but he doesn’t want it to be something that Mal thinks he has to do before their scenes.

“Do you…,” Rowan starts, then trails off, unsure how to phrase his question without sounding patronizing. His eyes sweep Mal’s features, sharp but with full lips and cheeks, his body toned with muscle and a layer of fat, minimal as it is. He looks healthy, but Rowan knows far too well that health isn’t only skin-deep.

“What?”

“Do you always… fast all day before scenes?”

Mal looks taken aback by the question, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Fuck no, man. I love food.” As if to prove his point, he takes a hulking bite of his burger, chews quickly, and swallows. “Only did it for the gangbang ’cause you never know what you’re gonna get. How rough the people’re gonna be, how they might react. People don’t like to talk about it, obviously, but accidents happen, and that shit’s awkward enough with one person, never mind ten.”

Relief floods through Rowan.

“Okay. That’s good.”

That earns him another single raised eyebrow from Mal.

“Just had to make sure you didn’t think I expected it or anything. I don’t want you to pass out in the middle of a scene.”

“Been doin’ this long enough to know how to take care of myself, man.” Mal’s tone is clipped. Serious.

“Right, yeah,” Rowan says immediately. “Sorry, didn’t mean to imply you didn’t.”

He gets a grunt as the only response as Mal scoops up a large spoonful of soup and slurps it loudly.

They eat together in silence, same as last time. It’s not awkward, exactly, but Rowan feels like he’s one strike away from blowing this whole thing. He dives into his food, equally as delicious as his meal last time had been. The diner is definitely a hidden gem, and he’s thankful it hasn’t been driven out of business by a smoothie bar or yoga studio as places like this often are in the Back Bay.

When Mal has finished most of his food, he surprises Rowan by pushing the slice of apple pie toward him, the scent of cinnamon filling Rowan’s nostrils.

Still, he questions, “Uhh…?”

A quick eye roll from Mal has Rowan’s face heating up. “Try it,” he says. “Shit’s like crack, I swear.”