I don’t know if you so prompts but I saw that you reblogged that AU thing so I felt that I could ask, can you do Prinxiety for “The manager says the only reason the restaurant where we work at is popular is because people enjoy eating while watching our relentless flirting with each other but I swear to God we’re not flirting???” AU? Thanks!!

I ABSOLUTELY DO PROMPTS, MY LOVE, THANK YOU FOR ASKING

pairings: romantic prinxiety, background romantic logicality (if you squint)

(tw: none! soft fluff all the way, babes) 

roman holds the door open for virgil with a dramatic bow. virgil flips him off, but he’s grinning. the cafe bell chimes warmly as they walk in, and a few of the people seated near the entrance lift their heads to look. virgil flinches away from the sudden burst of attention, but roman squeezes his wrist - i’m here, it’s okay, it’s okay, they’re only looking because it’s movement it’s not something you did - and he takes a deep breath. 

the manager, a stoic man named logan who, incredibly, never manages to spill anything on his crisp black shirt and blue tie, looks up from the host stand. when he sees them, a small smile creeps across his face. 

“one moment,” he calls, disappearing into the kitchen. after a few seconds, virgil picks up the distinctive cadence of patton’s voice, chattering happily away over the noise of the restaurant, but he can’t make out any distinctive words. logan comes back out after a few moments, flour smeared on his cheek. he swipes it off with one finger and picks up a pair of menus. 

“you got a spot for us?” roman laughs, and virgil is keenly aware of roman’s warm fingers still wrapped around his wrist. “seems pretty packed today.” 

“we always have a spot for our two best customers,” logan says, and if virgil didn’t know him better he’d say logan was teasing them. he leads them to a small two-person booth, and roman’s fingers finally leave virgil’s wrist, and he can breathe easy again. 

logan puts the menus down and leaves before they can give him a drink order. they’ve been here so many times, they don’t really need to anymore. 

“so, anything interesting happen this week?” roman leans forward, chin propped on his hands, head tilted to the side, and oh, he’s so adorable when he does that, virgil thinks. 

“i mean, Diablo bit me, so.” virgil rolls up his sleeves, revealing the thin strip of white gauze tied around his forehead. he’s lucky the snake isn’t venomous (although he is a little shit). “downsides of working in a pet store.” 

roman brushes his fingertips lightly over the gauze, face furrowed in concern. “i’m going to kill that snake,” he says. for a second, virgil worries he means it.

“i’ll get one of the prop knives and i’ll slay the mighty beast and then you’ll swoon into my arms and say ‘oh, roman, my hero!’” virgil cracks a laugh at roman’s ridiculous, high-pitched impression of his voice. 

“in your dreams, princey,” he snorts. roman turns a pretty pink at the nickname, and virgil smirks. 

logan comes back and slides their drinks onto the table - a black coffee with an extra shot of espresso for virgil, and some weird sugary french coffee concoction for roman, as well as a small plastic cup of ice cubes. “dessert’s on its way,” he adds, plucking the unopened menus off the table. virgil looks up at him in confusion. 

“but we didn’t order anything?” 

he thinks logan is attempting to wink in response, but logan’s not very good with facial expressions so it ends up looking like a sort of mild spasm. “you’ll see,” he says, breezing away to check on another table, and yeah, okay, people are definitely looking now. 

“is it hot in here, or is it just you?” roman smirks, wrapping his hands around his drink and lifting it to his lips. he curls his mouth into a perfect “o” shape to blow on it, steam wafting into virgil’s face, and virgil wants to kiss him. 

“more like all the hot air you keep spewing,” he retorts, just to see roman make a face at him (he sticks his tongue out, and then carefully pokes it into his drink, recoiling sharply at the heat). virgil picks up his own coffee and takes a long, slow drag of bitter, scalding coffee.

“i still don’t know how you drink that,” roman mutters around the ice cube in his mouth. virgil raises an eyebrow at him over his mug. 

“it matches my soul,” he deadpans, and roman laughs, a bright, happy sound that rumbles up from the bottom of his chest. virgil smiles, huffs a short laugh through his nose. he notices a few other customers watching them and smiling, but he figures it’s more to do with roman’s dramatics than anything he’s doing. 

it’s not logan who brings them their desserts, but patton. in contrast to his husband, patton’s sleeves are rolled up, and his apron is streaked with egg and flour and chocolate. there’s chocolate streaked across his cheek, too, and his silver wedding band hangs from a chain around his neck. 

“on the house!” he chirps. virgil has a slice of dark chocolate cake, layered with coffee buttercream and topped with a dusting of cinnamon. roman has a chocolate lava cake, still steaming, drizzled with raspberry syrup and loaded with whipped cream and sugary sweetness. 

“what - we can’t just not pay for these,” virgil protests, even as roman gleefully thanks patton and breaks the cake open with his spoon. soft chocolate sludge oozes out onto the plate, and roman grins, and virgil momentarily forgets that he’s supposed to be protesting with patton because roman is so pretty. 

“trust me, you’ve more than paid for these,” patton grins. he winks, too, but his is actually successful. 

“i don’t understand,” virgil says, and the cake is calling his name but he refuses to eat it until he understands what’s happening. “we - i know we come here a lot, but -” 

“look around you,” logan says, and where did he come from? patton happily turns to kiss his cheek, and logan obliges, even though patton leaves chocolate on him. “this place is booming, and a large portion of that comes from you two.” 

“what?” roman is muffled around his mouthful of cake, but his eyes are bright with confusion. 

“half the people that come in here only come in because of you two!” patton laughs. “your flirting is ridiculously entertaining, i guess! we’ve never been busier, guys, so yeah, those are on the house! enjoy!” patton kisses logan, once, quickly, and runs back to the kitchen. logan wipes the chocolate off his face, staring after patton with a fond smile, and then heads off to seat someone new. 

“that’s ridiculous,” virgil stammers. “we’re not - i’m not - we aren’t flirting! are we?” he looks at roman, only to find him uncharacteristically serious. 

“i mean … i was.” 

virgil almost knocks his coffee over in shock. “you what?” 

“virgil, i’ve been flirting with you every day for the past two years!” roman says. “how did you not notice? did you - did you not want me to be?” 

“no!” virgil yelps, because he’ll do anything to keep that crestfallen look out of roman’s eyes. “i - i just - i wanted you to be. i wanted it so badly, and i - i didn’t want to get my hopes up if i was misreading the situation. i didn’t know for sure, and i didn’t wanna make an advance if you didn’t mean -” 

roman leans across the booth and kisses him, hands warm from his coffee cup pressed against virgil’s cold cheeks. he tastes like sugar and chocolate and coffee and cream, and virgil can dimly hear someone whooping as the entire cafe breaks into applause. 

(he doesn’t see the flash of patton’s polaroid, from the kitchen, but he sees the picture tacked on the blackboard with the specials when they come in next week.) 

(they continue to visit the cafe every week, and three years later, in the exact same booth, they propose to each other at the exact same time, and they both accept.) 

(i hope you enjoyed it!!!!)