Page 100 of Under Construction

Their lips part after what feels like forever, but before either can say anything, Dennis’s stomach lets out a growl like an angry bear.

Chris bursts out laughing, yanking Dennis back against his chest.

While Chris's palm circles his empty belly, Dennis flops his head back onto Chris's shoulder with a groan. "I haven't eaten since breakfast!"

"Perfect timing, princess. Ethiopian?"

Dennis squints up at Chris. "Is that the one where I have to eat with my hands? You're gonna regret this—I am soooo hungry!"

Chris tips back, knees bent with laughter. "You've never had injera? Princess, you haven't lived!"

Dennis lets Chris drag him along. His food recommendations never fail, and whatever that thing is Chris mentioned already sounds amazing.

The ride to dinner starts with Chris venting about the electrical team. "Who poaches half a crew mid-project?"

Dennis notices how Chris's hands tighten on the wheel when he talks about the anonymous calls, how the veins on his neck pulse visibly when the conversation turns to potentially losing more of the crew.

Over shared platters, they brainstorm ways to keep the remaining team from jumping ship.

"We could match their offer," Dennis suggests, scooping up spicy lentils with torn injera.

"With what budget?" Chris snorts. "Unless you've got a trust fund you're willing to tap?"

"Maybe we don't need money." Dennis leans forward. "What if we offered them stakes in future projects? Partnership tracks?"

Chris pauses mid-bite, eyes lighting up. "Now that's the kind of thinking I—"

He breaks off as their server appears with baklava drowning in honey.

Dennis isn’t a dessert person, but it’s been a long day, and things are looking up and feeling pretty great now that he’s back with Chris.

Maybe that’s why his "just one bite" at Chris's needling turns into polishing off most of it, Chris's delighted giggles only slightly annoying.

Maybe Chris is right about him needing more sweetness in life, even though Chris is plenty sweet as it is.

Not that Dennis would ever admit it.

They walk after dinner, through the quiet riverfront park where foot traffic dies after sunset.

Where they won't run into anyone from work.

Dennis thinks this to himself a little more consciously than he’d like. Most of the team lives closer to the city and wouldn’t bother coming out this far.

The backs of their hands brush with each step until Chris captures Dennis’s fingers, lacing them together.

Dennis’s face warms, but he squeezes back, heart racing at this small intimacy.

Chris claims he needs to work off dinner, then immediately contradicts himself by stopping at an ice cream cart tucked between fairy-lit trees.

"Someone stole my dessert," he declares loudly, ordering gelato.

The shoulder smack he receives is purely symbolic. Dennis helps himself to generous spoonfuls of pistachio as punishment for such slander, which Chris accepts with suspicious enthusiasm and an exasperating twinkle in his eye.

Back at the apartment, they head straight for the shower.

What started as occasional shared showers on nights Dennis stayed over or days Chris skipped the gym has evolved without discussion.

Gradually, Dennis stopped taking that nightly Uber home. Even on days Chris showered at the gym, he'd join Dennis under the spray anyway.

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