Author's Note: I adore Ono-Chikage, so this just had to happen in some form or other. I hope the reading of it pleases half as much as the writing of it!

Kindness

Chapter 1

Ono Yusuke looked out the small window in the swinging kitchen door at the sound of a loud crash. His first guess was that Chikage-san had dropped a stack of cake-laden plates or bumped into a table full of cake-laden plates or knocked over Tachibana-san as he was carrying an armful of cake-laden plates. The messy truth, as well as he could tell in viewing the aftermath, was a combination of all three. Chikage was on the floor, atop Tachibana, with overturned and broken dishes and bits of pastry along with spilled and broken teacups around them.

The two young female customers at whose feet they had landed were looking aghast at the display, both clutching and holding aloft for safety their plates full of the day's specialty, lemon tart with raspberries and crushed pistachios. The nuts were Eiji's idea and had made quite a hit with customers, despite Tachibana's vocal misgivings. At the moment, however, the ladies at the table under which the owner and his clingy underling sprawled were less than contented. As Ono watched, biting his lip, Tachibana rose quickly, brushing himself off, bowing, and apologizing profusely and professionally, promising there'd be no charge for their order and anything else they might like. This appeased the young women well, and it was clear Tachibana's charm had won the day. The rest of the customers returned to their treats with only a few gawks and whispers. Tachibana quickly rushed to reassure the patrons whose order was now all over the floor that they would quickly be served, despite the mishap. Their check, too, would be taken care of.

Chikage's excessive expressions of regret and dismay as he fumbled with whatever he could gather up on the floor with his hands were, by contrast, far less calming than Tachibana's. Ono's heart went out to the big lug, especially when Tachibana reached out and smacked him on the shoulder, telling him to get a broom and clean up the mess before he tossed him out for good. It wasn't that he would actually fire Chikage, or even that Chikage thought he'd actually be fired that moved Ono to bite his lip and sigh as Eiji demanded to know what was going on (while not stopping the whipping of the egg whites that were at a crucial stage for the meringue). The sweet and fiercely loyal Chikage wouldn't leave his "young master" even if commanded to do so. No, Ono's response was to the look on Chikage's face.

Chikage humbly bowed from his awkward position, rising as best he could and slipping in custard or mousse as he did so. And when he got to his knees and raised his face, glasses askew, Ono saw the slender trail of a glistening tear on his cheek and lips parted slightly in shame that were juicier than any ripe fruit. An image of pushing through the door and coming to kneel beside the sad beauty overtook Ono, as did the fantasy of pressing upon him a long and tender kiss, generous of warmth and tongue. That he refrained from doing so at that moment, he felt, should be credited in his favor should his good and evils be formally tallied at his death. That is, if yielding to temptation actually counted against one. It was all Ono could do, and do successfully, to stand where he was, eyes glued to the object of his increasingly unrestrainable lust and sympathy, and not go to him, not take him in his arms, not kiss that sweet mouth until the lost look left his face to be replaced by open longing, and not whisper a request that Chikage take him in his arms and carry him out of the shop to the nearest bedroom—or maybe just upstairs to fuck (beautifully and brazenly) on Eiji's no doubt unmade bed.

There had been more and more such moments over recent weeks for Ono. Whether it was these terrible little accidents that Chikage could never quite stop having or their opposites, moments when the naïve Adonis would sample a new recipe Ono was testing and his cheeks flush, mouth curve into a beatific child-like smile, and clutch at Ono and bow over and over, telling him he'd never had anything so delicious and was unworthy of its flavor. No matter that this scenario would repeat itself regularly; Ono knew sincerity when it came to him—for it rarely did—and Chikage was sincerity and earnestness personified.

The problem, for indeed Ono could not deny he felt a stirring in his loins and a pricking in his mind that boded ill, was that he was having a difficult time continuing to convince himself that taking Chikage to bed would be a bad ting. A part of his lust-addled brain still urged him to remember that Antique was a place that more and more felt like home, a place where baking was pleasure for the first time, a place he might not have to leave, if only he controlled his libido. But another part of him, growing even now like his cock in his white cotton pants, wanted Chikage, and knew Chikage felt the same, even if he was too insecure to act upon it.

Ono was not, so far as cock in trousers went, insecure. He was not insecure of what he'd do with said cock either, if he decided to act. Images assailed him, awake and asleep, at work and at home and at play—even when at play with other partners—of dropping to hands and knees, ass high, coquettishly looking over his shoulder while fisting his cock. "Fuck me, Chikage. Claim me, my beautiful stallion," he imagined himself begging. It was a full-fledged romance novel of lust by a roaring fire, Chikage's dark glasses reflecting in its glow, Ono gently removing them to gaze into those sumptuous pale eyes. "I will claim you, my Ono-san," Chikage would reply, ever the model of deference and politeness, even as he rammed his cock home and Ono tumbled blissfully over the edge, the fire crackling and the roar of the ocean in his ears.

Chikage rose at last with broken chinaware in his broad palms while Tachibana admonished him in a terse whisper to "Get a tray, stupid!" and Ono gladly held the door open for him to pass. He muttered gratitude with his cheeks still flushed and glasses still crooked. Ono could not help but stop him with gentle fingertips, pushing his glasses straight and dabbing his tears with a clean kitchen towel. Chikage stood, apparently spellbound, at Ono's touch, which both melted and roused the patissiere the more. "Oh Chikage-san," he sighed, "let me help you."

The two managed to toss the unsalvageable dishes into the bin while Ono took one unbroken saucer and put it in the sink. Then, he handed Chikage a tray and a wet cloth and sent him back out to finish the cleaning. Chikage bowed and thanked Ono and apologized, and Ono assured him all was well.

By his second trip, the poor man was nearly hyperventilating. He faced Tachibana's wrath, arms folded boss-like and glaring at him as he worked, clumsily but steadily. And Ono could bear no more. "Sit down," he commanded, and Chikage obeyed. Dear heaven, thought Ono, how the man obeyed. With Eiji scoffing and giggling in the background until Ono flicked him in the ass with a damp towel, he tidied the gentle giant up. He cleaned the pastry from his pants. He replaced his apron. And, saving the best for last, he removed his glasses and tenderly wiped his sweaty face. "There now," he cooed, dabbing and making a delectable fuss over the man. "All better."

Chikage murmured a humble "Thank you, Ono-san," and took the smaller man's hands in his own. "I do not deserve your kindness."

"Oh, but you do," Ono replied softly, touching his cheek. Eiji snorted. Both men turned to glare at him, bringing a light trill of laughter from Ono despite his best efforts. Chikage sighed with obvious longing at the sound. Ono knew he was done waiting. "After we close, allow me to take you for a drink and show you the kindness you truly do deserve?"

Chikage seemed unable to speak for a moment. "Ono-san," he breathed.

"Just say yes already, before you both make me sick," Eiji said with a groan.