T/W:

***

Clive

***

I'm in Rusty's kitchen, whipping up some Parmesan chicken with some steamed broccoli and I'll add some melted cheddar cheese on top of the broccoli when it's finished. Rusty is out, doing errands (or something to that effect), so I'm here alone, making us some dinner.

Rusty had left the TV on in the living room and snatches of the dialogue wafted in while I prepared the meal. As I'm cooking, I had a thought in an alternate universe, I could have been a professional chef, whipping up some awesome food for bigwigs.

I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. Like that's ever going to become a reality. At least I can make awesome food for my biker family. They enjoy it.

I've just finished chopping up the broccoli and putting it in the steamer when I heard the dull roar of a motorcycle engine approaching. I thought it was Rusty, but there's a knock at the front door. I frowned, setting everything aside and going to check it out.

It's Cal.

I opened the door, greeting him. He grunted, coming inside. "What brings you here?" I asked. "If you're wanting to talk to Rusty, he's out."

Cal silently surveyed the scene before him as I return to my cooking. "You like cooking?" He asked, looking somewhat dubious.

I smirked. "You knew this. It's not news."

Cal leaned casually against the counter. "Right...."

I glanced over, as I started grating the cheese. "You didn't answer me earlier. Why are you here?"

"Not to shoot the shit with Rusty." Cal's nose twitched. He studied me as I pulled the chicken from the oven and set the pan on top before moving to check on the broccoli.

"Then what?" I asked.

Cal scooted closer, his expression unreadable. I smirked again. "Am I tempting you, Morgan?"

Cal's gaze drifted away from the food to...mine. I felt something in the atmosphere shift. We stood there, lost in this bubble, that neither of us wanted to burst. Then....like a flash of lightening, it was gone.

Cal put some distance between us, his gaze focused on the food once again. "Sure," he drawled, trying to sound casual. "I'll have a bite."

I quickly served him up a decent sized portion, grabbing a fork and placed it in front of him on the kitchen counter before serving myself up. I leaned against the counter, eating, casting subtle glances at Cal.

I waited, watching his face as he took the first bite. I saw pleasure flicker across his face. I took another bite of mine, not pressuring him, just waiting for him to comment.

"That's damn good." Cal cast a quick look in my direction as he continued eating.

"Thanks," I replied.

"I did know you liked this shit," Cal continued. "Rusty's mentioned it a time or two."

"It's my passion," I said before I could stop myself.

Cal pivoted, facing me. As he stood there, I tried to decipher the expression on his face. At first, I thought he looked angry, but that wasn't it.

"It's good to have a passion in life." Cal's voice had dropped considerably. My heart skipped a beat and there was this weird feeling in my gut. It wasn't something I'd experienced before, but it didn't seem unpleasant.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Cal stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup my head and then...our lips connected and everything else faded into the background, as we were both lost in utter bliss.

***

A strange thing happened after... whatever that was between Cal and myself. Neither of us spoke about it. And thank God, Rusty hadn't walked in on us. He arrived about ten minutes afterwards and by then, Cal had taken off like a scared rabbit, his food, nearly untouched.

I didn't know if Rusty suspected what happened. If he did, he never spoke a word of it to me. Though honestly, I'm okay with that. Because truthfully, I'm somewhat mixed up about how I feel towards Cal.

***

The entire club was at our clubhouse, as we're having a family night and doing a barbecue. I'm in the makeshift kitchen area, marinating the ribs while a few others are getting the hot dogs and burgers set up to grill.

Amala, who's a friend of Cal's, sauntered over, peering around me, watching as I check the ribs. She watched me for several minutes before saying anything.

"How'd you learn so much about this shit?" She asked.

I smirked, as I continued basting the ribs, covering every inch. "On my own, mostly," I replied. "Though a few of my foster moms allowed me to assist in the kitchen."

Amala casted a critical eye before nodding. "Men in aprons are pretty sexy," she teased. I chuckled.

"You think so?" Amala nodded again. I finished with the ribs, placing them on the big, silver platter and heading out to the grill, where Mitch and Roddy were finishing up placing the hot dogs and burgers on.

"Here's the ribs," I said. "I used my super secret recipe for the marinade. Prepare to be amazed."

Mitch shot me a mock glare. "I'll be the judge of that, Regan," he snapped playfully. I just shrugged.

They added the ribs and within moments, the strong scent of barbecued meat, mingled with the smoke of the grill, filled the air. I glanced over and spotted Cal, seemingly in a heated, yet quiet exchange with Rusty. As tempting as it was to spy in them, I knew better.

Instead, I fished an ice cold beer from one of the large coolers and popped the tab, downing half of it, still keeping tabs on Rusty and Cal. Five minutes later, Cal was storming off, his entire face screwed up in a scowl. He disappeared behind the clubhouse and I heard the faint click of a lighter and knew he was smoking.

Against my better judgement, I wandered over and rounded the corner, stopping as I studied Cal's rigid body language. He wasn't facing me so I was able to get a good, long look. And damn...the longer I gawked, the more he was drawing me in.

Cal made an about face and caught sight of me. His scowl deepened, though he made no comment. I cautiously approached him. He held out his packet of cigarettes and I slid one from the pack, placing it between my lips and lighting it. Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

"What's got your boxers in a twist?" I finally asked.

Cal's shoulders tensed, his face taunt. He didn't respond immediately. He lit another cigarette and smoked it halfway before responding. "Rusty wants me to do some shit that goes against my principals."

I didn't say anything. While Rusty, for the most part, was a decent soul, he didn't allow his fellow bikers to slack off. If orders were given, we were to obey. We didn't argue, bitch or push back. Regardless of the consequences. It was in the code. And everyone honored that code. Despite how twisted it became at times.

"That sucks," I sympathized. Cal scoffed, tossing his second cigarette down and stomping on it before lighting a third.

"He's an old codger who needs to get with the times," Cal growled. "Some of this shit, it ain't worth it. I mean, we've been pounding on these cops for years and it ain't done shit."

I tensed. So that was it. Rusty wanted more pushback on the local law enforcement. I sighed, finishing my cigarette. The scent of the cooking meat was stronger. My stomach growled.

Cal sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Not something that's Cal's usual. "Ah, hell. It's never gonna end."

"Cal?"

He looked at me. I mean, really saw me. It's the first time since whatever took place between us, at Rusty's, several days ago. "Yeah?"

"About what happened with..us..."
I began, but Cal lifted his hand, silencing me.

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. It was just...I got caught up in the moment."

I stared, feeling...what? Disappointment didn't begin to describe how I felt. (Though it was a close second.) I cleared my throat, stepping back. "Yeah... sure. Whatever you say."

Cal gave me a tight smile before putting out his last cigarette. He pocketed his lighter and cigarettes. Then we rejoined the group, my feelings mixed up more than ever.