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.”

The scratch of the plate against the table as Mal nudges it closer to Rowan feels a bit like an olive branch after the awkwardly tense past few minutes, and Rowan’s all too happy to take it.

He plucks his unused fork from the table and scoops off the point of the slice, making sure to get some of the fresh whipped cream neatly piled on top. He can feel the snap of the crust as his fork cuts through it and see the amber filling start to topple out onto the plate before bringing it quickly to his mouth and stuffing the bite in.

At once his tongue is bombarded with apple and cinnamon and allspice and butter and a dozen other things he can’t even begin to describe. Hands down, it’s the best pie he’s ever had, even beating Addison’s famous handmade desserts that all their coworkers rave about.

“Holy fuck,” Rowan says before he’s even swallowed.

“Told ya.”

There’s a small smile playing on Mal’s lips that reaches his eyes, and that tiny look alone is almost sweeter than the apple pie itself. He grabs his own fork, scoops up a large chunk, and shovels it into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed at the first taste like Rowan suspects his own had. Rowan puts his fork down on his plate, assuming Mal had only intended on having him try it.

“You don’t want more?”

“Oh, I didn’t think you wanted me, yanno, double dipping.”

Mal gives him a flat stare as he takes another bite. “Just had your tongue in my ass ’n your dick in my mouth, man. ’M not worried about cooties.”