It's later in the week, after Haru's Bathroom Incident, and Makoto hasn't seen him since, although the way Kisumi's been looking up at his ceiling every so often when he comes in for his after work coffee and cake suggests he's already missed his arrival, but that doesn't appear to be the case today. On offer today is some lovely lemon drizzle, and Makoto is eager for a slice.

"So what does Haru do for a living? Besides baking, of course," he asks Kisumi, curiously.

"Just freelance," Kisumi shrugs dismissively.

"Freelance baking?"

"Mm… and a bit of art, sometimes swimming if he really needs the prize money," and Kisumi frowns as he says it, because he knows better than anyone how much Haru hates that. "Anything, really… he's really talented."

"So no… no real job… I'm not judging, just…"

Kisumi shakes his head, smiling. "It's fine... he's never really been set on doing anything. He majored in art but… art school, you know… I've offered him a place here plenty of times. He'd be a fine chef, get some home cooked goodies on the menu rather than just me knocking up sandwiches. He says it's too much effort, lazy bastard," he smiles affectionately.

The door chimes and in comes a red haired police officer, looking particularly stony, like he's been rudely awakened, with an old biscuit tin under his arm. Without a hint of emotion, Kisumi presents a black coffee and boxes up a cake in a take-out tub, and Makoto watches the silent exchange completely confused.

"Kisumi," the cop finally acknowledges as he's dredging his cup and sliding some coins across, and Kisumi softens a little in the way he looks at him, like they're passing some kind of understanding through their eyes.

He sets the box on the table and seems to chance a glance towards Makoto, before turning on his heel and ambling out again. Makoto thinks he looks oddly familiar… he never forgets a face, and especially one with teeth like those, but he can't help but wonder…

"Odd," Kisumi comments when the door has closed. "I wonder where Haru is?" and that confirms Makoto's suspicion that he wasn't up in the bath today.

Makoto looks excitedly as Kisumi unveils the flapjacks in the box. So they cop had obviously been making a delivery on his behalf… well how's about that, then.

"He was… cold," Makoto decides, looking at Kisumi for more of an explanation.

"Eh, he's a bit of a softy, really. Didn't realise he'd be working this early, though. I'm surprise he came in wearing that."

"His uniform? But he's a cop…?" and Makoto's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Kisumi bites back his laughter. "Really, Mako, are you blind? He's a stripper!"

"Really?!" Makoto exclaims in shock, and it's all Kisumi can do to clasp a hand over his mouth.

Makoto wonders if Haru works as a freelance stripper, too.

Haru finally makes an appearance in the shop again the next day, coming in laden with boxes to make up for his measly offer yesterday.

"Hey, Haru!" Kisumi calls excitedly across to him, like he's missed him so much. "Where were you yesterday?! Sharkweek was scaring the customers," and he bundles a reluctant Haru into a hug over the counter.

"Winning," Haru coughs out, pulling away with a frown.

"Oh, you had a race? You should have told me!"

"Last minute thing… the car needs a service," he shrugs.

Kisumi can see Haru's eyes drifting over to Makoto's table.

"Looking for something?" he teases.

Haru snaps his gaze back. "Where's my sandwich?"

"Coming, slave drive," Kisumi rolls his eyes.

Halfway through picking at his side salad, waiting for the hot sandwich to cool, Makoto slumps into the doorway, shaking out his wet hair from the shower Haru had barely managed to miss. He watches the droplets run from his cheek to his jaw, and oh, wow…

Kisumi throws him a flirtatious smile and a towel along with it to rub down with, and Makoto squelches his way over to his usual seat with a thanks.

"Did I see you life guarding at the pool this morning, Haru? I was there with my class… but you were in the lane pool, I think?"

"Hn," was Haru's attempt at a yes around the first bite of his panini.

"Is freelance lifeguarding even a thing?" Kisumi mocks, trading Makoto a mocha for the money he's set out on the table. Haru shrugs, which only results in a rough hand clapped onto his shoulder. "Well, hows about being a freelance barista for me Sunday afternoon?"

Haru shoots him a scornful look.

"Because you love me," Kisumi pleads.

"Not that much," Haru decides.

Kisumi flops over his back, weighing down on his shoulders and nudging his nose to his neck. He's trying to be affectionate, forgiving, sort of. Makoto thinks it's cute. Haru thinks it's annoying.

"Worth a shot," Kisumi sighs. "I have to take Hayato to visit our grandma in the afternoon. I didn't really want to close up early.

"I could watch the shop," Makoto offers, and then bites his tongue on his sudden remark, backtracking. "I mean… if you're okay with that? I had a part time job in a coffee shop in college."

"You are a life saver," Kisumi beamed, leaping off of Haru's back to bounce giddily at Makoto instead.

For whatever reason, decides to hang around while Kisumi shows Makoto the ropes and lets him get a feel for the machine, especially while it's slow as it's nearing closing time (god, just how long has he been here?). He sketches, something he's been a bit distracted from lately. Without him noticing, the clock strikes six and Kisumi turns the key in the door. There's a warm presence looming over his shoulder.

"Is that supposed to be me?" Makoto asks, and Haru quickly hides his work, trying to decide if Makoto sounds angry or just plain flattered, but that voice of his is always so mellow, he's not learned how to distinguish it yet. He chances a glance at his face.

He's smiling, so he nods.

"It's so good… wow…" Makoto beams, and there's a little bit of a flush peeking at his ears.

Haru tears the page from the book. "Here."

He has others, anyway.