Carter breaks into a relieved smile when Scott sits back down at their table. He reaches across, going for Scott’s hand, but Scott puts both hands in his lap before Carter can touch him. Their table’s been cleaned and a new bottle of wine and fresh wineglass laid out, and their food came sometime while Scott was in the bathroom. Carter’s already eaten some of his, but Scott’s is untouched and steaming hot. He stares at the plate, but he doesn’t even pick up a fork and pretend to eat. His stomach is too twisted up for him to even consider eating.

Carter takes a bite from his own plate, chews, and swallows. He asks, “You feeling all right?” Then takes another bite. Scott looks back down at his own meal and picks up the fork, but he doesn’t touch the food. He doesn’t want to ruin it. Maybe someone else could have it. Maybe Carter wants it.

Carter chews again, swallows again, licks his lips. “Scott?”

“I’m okay,” Scott says quickly. He watches Carter take a sip from his wineglass, the red staining his upper lip. He stares for a few seconds before realizing what he’s doing and looking away. He listens to the sounds of Carter eating instead: the clink of his fork on the plate, the muffled chewing noises. The smack of his lips that sounds like a kiss.

“Scott,” Carter says, and when Scott looks up, he finds Carter holding out a forkful of chicken, steaming hot, juicy on the inside and perfectly browned on the outside. “Try this.”

Scott stares at him, at the food suspended between them, and considers Carter’s words. It wasn’t a question, and his tone brooked no argument. He leans forward and opens his mouth for Carter’s fork, and Carter leans forward just far enough for him to close his lips around the bite. The flavor explodes in his mouth, rich and tender and amazing, and okay, maybe this place really is worth the price.

He doesn’t realize he’s moaning until he hears Carter laughing at him. “Good, right?” Carter asks.

Carter pulls the fork out of Scott’s mouth--slowly, like he knows exactly how much Scott enjoyed that bite--and scoots his chair around the table until he’s sitting next to Scott. He rearranges their plates and glasses and silverware, and he moves the candle to the far end, and then he digs his fork into the little mountain of mashed potatoes on Scott’s plate.

“It’s been sitting there, tempting me,” Carter says, and takes the bite. “Fuck, that’s good. There’s a reason this place is so famous, I guess. Here, try some.” He digs his fork in again, carving out a crater, and brings it to Scott’s lips. Scott doesn’t even think, just responds, lets Carter feed him the bite of warm garlicky goodness and licks his lips after. Two bites later he feels almost back to normal, and he picks up his own fork again and digs into his food, Carter still sitting right there next to him, chattering away pleasantly about the food, the waiter, the wine. Scott hardly listens, just enjoying the sound of Carter’s voice. It’s steadying. Calming. And when Carter slides a hand under the table to rest it on Scott’s thigh, he just smiles and scoots his chair a little closer and keeps eating.

They polish off the bottle of wine and Carter asks to see the dessert menu, even as Scott protests and says he can’t eat another bite.

“Come on, we’ll share,” Carter laughs. “I want to try it. And look, you can get it with this coffee liqueur stuff. You’ll love it.”

Scott leans against Carter, feeling warm inside, all over. “You just want to feed me chocolate cake,” he says under his breath. Carter nods at the waiter and waves him away, then looks down at Scott.

“You’re damn right I do. And then I want to lick it off your lips.”

“Really?” Scott’s cheeks flush, but he smiles and feels the warmth inside him begin to flare into heat.

“Chocolate-Scott. It’s my favorite dessert,” Carter says, smiling back and reaching out to tuck Scott’s hair behind his ear.

“You’ve never had it,” Scott teases. “How do you know?”

“Because you’re my favorite, and chocolate makes everything even better. Two things that right can’t go wrong,” Carter declares, and his face is so serious when he says it that Scott can’t help bursting out into giggles.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, and Carter raises his eyebrows and looks down his nose at Scott’s face.

“Only in the very best way, baby.”

The dessert, when it comes, is huge and dripping with chocolate sauce, and Carter makes a noise at the sight of it that Scott’s only ever heard from him in bed. He glances at Carter out of the corner of his eye and says, “Are you sure you want to eat it? You sound like you might have more fun fucking it.”

Carter huffs. “Shut up! I just know how to enjoy myself, Scott.”

Scott’s not quite done teasing Carter about his apparent love affair with chocolate, but when he opens his mouth, Carter’s already got a bite of cake right there, ready and waiting. It’s rich and sweet and rich, the sharp taste of liqueur cutting through the chocolate, and Scott has to admit, it’s pretty amazing. The look on Carter’s face is even better as he watches Scott eat, heated and happy, and as soon as Scott swallows Carter darts forward to kiss him deep, licking the sweetness right off his tongue.

They finish the dessert together, and eventually the waiter comes back to take away the empty plate and wish them a good night. Carter thanks him and pulls out his wallet, slipping him a bill Scott doesn’t see. As the waiter walks away, Scott sits up from where he’s been slouched, hands over his full, tight stomach, and asks, “Don’t we need a check?”

“It’s already taken care of,” Carter says quickly. “Come on, ready to go?”

Scott pushes himself up out of the chair and says, “Man, it feels weird to leave without paying. I guess being famous isn’t all bad, huh?”

Carter narrows his eyes, and for a second Scott thinks he’s going to ask what Scott means. But Carter lets it go, placing a gentle guiding hand in the small of Scott’s back and ushering him out of the restaurant.

He’s whispering something in Scott’s ear about making out in the back row of the movie theater when the flashing lights and shouts start up, and Scott looks around, confused, wondering what’s happened. It takes a moment for him to understand, and when he does, he’s suddenly right back in the bathroom stall, wishing he could disappear into the ground.

Apparently, they happened.