Pugsley wasn’t sure whose idea this was—probably Enid’s, judging by the glitter still stuck to the flyer advertising the little café in Jericho—but somehow here he was. Double date. Him and Eugene. Wednesday and Enid. Sitting at the same booth like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Wednesday looked like she was attending a funeral. Enid was beaming. Eugene was stirring his drink absentmindedly, goggles pushed up on his head, curls falling in his face. Pugsley couldn’t stop staring.

Not like casual staring. More like memorizing the way his hands move when he fidgets with the straw staring.

Eugene glanced up, caught him, and Pugsley just smiled shamelessly. No hiding, no embarrassment. Yeah, I’m staring. You’re perfect. Sue me.

Enid was chatting a mile a minute about some TikTok trend, and Pugsley tuned in just enough to catch Wednesday’s flat, “That’s idiotic,” before going back to Eugene. His brain kept short-circuiting. The way Eugene leaned his elbow on the table? Cute. The way he blinked slower when he was tired? Adorable. The faint scar peeking out above his collar? Beautiful.

“Pugsley,” Wednesday deadpanned suddenly, dragging him out of his haze. “You’re simping so hard I can hear it.”

Enid giggled. “It’s kinda cute though! He’s like a big golden retriever, just following Eugene around with heart eyes.”

Eugene flushed. “Guys—”

Pugsley shrugged, still smirking. “Not wrong.” He let his hand brush against Eugene’s under the table, casual but very much on purpose. “He’s the best thing here.”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Good,” Pugsley said simply. “I like being obvious.”

The table went quiet for a beat, save for Enid sighing dreamily and Wednesday stabbing her fork into a muffin like it had personally wronged her.

Then Eugene’s hand shifted under the table, pressing back against Pugsley’s. Small. Warm. Intentional.

Pugsley almost exploded on the spot. He leaned back, trying to look casual, scrolling TikTok on his phone with his free hand while their fingers stayed locked under the table. He probably looked calm. He was not calm.

Golden retriever? Yeah. If golden retrievers fantasized about setting the world on fire just to keep their person warm.