The first time it happened, Ginger wasn't sure how he should take it. The moment was so subtle and flat-out misleading (and not to mention ridiculously cute) Ginger nearly died of embarrassment and fluff.

It all started when Manson recruited a new member into his band, a young guitar player named John, who was honestly too much of a sweetheart to be affiliated with such a controversial band. But because he was a pro at shredding the six-string, everyone accepted him into the group.

Well, almost everyone.

Pogo hated John for some reason. Everyone had their speculations, of course, but most people reckoned it was because of Zim Zum, as the ex-guitarist was best friends with Pogo. Manson, however, believed with absolute confidence that it was because of sexual tension between the two. Ginger would never admit it aloud, but he wanted to throttle the man for suggesting such a thing. Instead of acting on the impulse, though, as Ginger was rather fond of his job, he agreed with the more obvious theory of Pogo's hatred for John. Honestly, if Manson just took the time to know the new guy like Ginger had, then he would know that John was actually scared of the psychopath.

"Is that why you guys call him Pogo?" John had once asked Ginger after an incident involving watermelons. Ginger hadn't given him a straight answer, opting for vague replies because he didn't want to scare the poor guy any further. Unfortunately, John probably would never look at watermelons the same way again.

So when Pogo came into the studio holding a fucking watermelon, John silently snuck out of the room like a ninja in the night. Ginger noticed this and shook his head.

"Pogo, do you have to taunt him like that?" he asked.

"Whatever do you mean?" Pogo asked, feigning innocence.

Sighing, Ginger stood up to follow John. There was no point in making Pogo see reason; it would only be a waste of time for both of them. He made his way to the only place John would be: the break room. Sure enough, there he was, sitting on one of the sofas. He looked up when he heard Ginger come in and smiled.

"Nice of you to join me," he said.

Ginger chuckled. "Well, you did just leave in the middle of our conversation."

John's smile turned sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Ginger waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind. So what were you telling me about Halford?"

Their conversation continued as though they had never been interrupted. Ginger took in every word John said. He was fascinated. John was brought up well for a high-class kid, not snobby or spoiled, and Ginger liked that. Since their meeting, Ginger had developed a bit of a crush on the guy. He should do something about it, but his shyness kept him from doing anything. No matter, though. Ginger was pleased with the friendship he had with John.

"...anyway, would you like a kiss?" John suddenly asked.

And just like that, Ginger Fish broke.

It was kind of embarrassing, particularly when he squeaked because his brain couldn't make his mouth form words. John was being a sweetie, though and not saying anything about it.

"Excuse me, a what?" Ginger eventually spluttered.

"A kiss," John repeated, and Ginger spluttered some more. "You okay there?"

"Yes," Ginger said in a small squeak. Damn it.

"Yes, you're okay? Or yes, you'd like one?" John tilted his head and blinked. It was adorable how he looked like a confused puppy.

"Yes, I would like one," Ginger clarified.

John nodded, and Ginger closed his eyes. He could hear John shuffling next to him, and then some rustling. Oh god, this was it. It was going to happen. They were going to kiss. John was going to kiss him. John was going to—

"Here you go."

Ginger opened his eyes, confused, then looked down and felt warm. Held out for him in John's hand was a small and silver Hershey Kiss chocolate.

No fucking way.

He looked back up at John and saw amusement. Ginger narrowed his eyes. "Were you really asking me if I wanted a Hershey Kiss?"

"Course I was," John said. "What other kiss could I have offered?"

His eyes were twinkling.

What a tease.