Chapter Text
The lull came mid-afternoon.
That strange in-between time where the kitchen had already pushed through breakfast and lunch, but evening hadn’t started breathing down their necks yet. The rush had gone, leaving behind warmth, faint noise, and the low, steady rhythm of resetting everything for the next service.
Lisa stood at the counter, slicing through a stack of red onions, slower than she needed to. Not because she didn’t know what she was doing, but because her head wasn’t fully in it.
It hadn’t been all day.
Not since that quiet shift that morning. Not since the way Carla had looked at her, spoken to her, stayed just a little closer than usual without crossing the line.
Lisa exhaled softly, pushing the knife forward again.
Just ask.
It should have been simple.
It wasn’t.
Carla was at the pass, checking through orders for the evening, making notes in the margin like she always did. Focused. Calm. Back in that steady rhythm that made everything around her feel controlled.
But even now, Lisa noticed the small things. The way Carla’s attention drifted every now and then. The way she glanced over. The way she didn’t pretend she wasn’t.
Lisa wiped her hands on her apron and set the knife down.
Now.
She stepped closer.
“You busy tomorrow?” she asked, keeping her tone casual—too casual.
Carla looked up straight away, like she’d been waiting for something.
“Tomorrow?” she repeated.
Lisa nodded. “Yeah.”
Carla held her gaze for a second, then shook her head slightly. “No. Why?”
Lisa shrugged, leaning lightly against the edge of the counter, trying to keep it easy.
“Thought we could… go out.”
Carla’s brow lifted faintly. “Go out.”
Lisa nodded again, her fingers tapping lightly against the counter. “Yeah. Food. Somewhere that isn’t here.”
A small pause.
Then, quickly, “Not a date.”
Carla’s mouth tilted immediately. “Right.”
Lisa exhaled quietly. “I mean it.”
Carla didn’t look away. “You’re asking me out.”
Lisa shook her head slightly. “I’m saying thank you.”
Carla’s expression softened, just a fraction. “For what?”
Lisa hesitated. Not because she didn’t know, but because she did.
“For last night,” she said, quieter now. “For listening. For… everything.”
Carla held her gaze, something shifting in her expression—less teasing now, more real.
“You don’t owe me anything for that,” she said.
Lisa shrugged lightly. “I know.”
A beat passed before she added, “I still want to.”
The space between them settled. Not tense. Just quiet.
Carla leaned back slightly against the pass, arms folding loosely, her eyes not leaving Lisa’s.
“And this definitely isn’t a date,” she said.
Lisa’s mouth curved faintly. “Definitely not.”
“Because it sounds like one.”
“It’s not.”
Carla tilted her head slightly. “You’re asking me to dinner. Outside of work.”
Lisa held her gaze. “As a thank you.”
A pause.
Then Carla smiled properly this time. Not sharp. Not guarded. Soft.
“Alright.”
Lisa blinked slightly. “Alright?”
Carla nodded. “Yeah.”
Lisa’s fingers stilled against the counter. “You’re not going to argue with me about it?”
Carla’s smile lingered. “I did. You were very clear.”
Lisa huffed a quiet laugh. “I was.”
Carla straightened slightly, stepping closer—not enough to crowd her, but enough to shift the space again.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Lisa glanced up at her, something lighter breaking through now. “You trusting me with that?”
Carla met her gaze. “I trust you with the kitchen.”
A beat passed before she added, quieter, “I think I can trust you with dinner.”
Lisa held her eyes for a second longer, then nodded. “Alright.”
They didn’t move away straight after. Didn’t rush back into work.
The moment sat there. Simple. But not small.
Carla’s gaze flicked briefly to Lisa’s hands resting on the counter, close enough to notice, before lifting again.
“What time?” she asked.
Lisa shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing Carla’s as she did. “After service. If you’re not too tired.”
Carla’s mouth tilted. “I’ll manage.”
Lisa smiled faintly. “Good.”
A ticket printed suddenly behind them, breaking the moment. Both of them glanced toward it, then back at each other.
Carla nodded toward the pass. “We should—”
“Yeah.”
Neither of them moved straight away. Just a second longer.
Then Carla stepped back, turning toward the printer. Lisa picked up her knife again, but her grip felt different now.
Lighter.
“You realise,” Carla called, glancing over her shoulder, “I’m still calling it a date.”
Lisa didn’t look up, but her smile gave her away. “You can call it what you want.”
Carla’s voice softened slightly. “I will.”
Lisa shook her head, but there was no resistance in it.
And as the kitchen came back to life around them, the shift between them stayed.
Warmer now.
Easier.
And heading somewhere neither of them was pretending not to see anymore.