Page 112 of Should the Sky Fall

“Do you mind if I take a picture?” he asks after a while as Dawson is chopping up spring onions.

“Go for it.”

The sound of the shutter goes off, and Dawson blinks when he sees Cal’s phone pointed at him instead of the food. “Oh. I thought you were talking about…” He points at the ingredients sizzling in the pan.

Cal’s smiling at the picture, but it’s replaced by worry when Dawson’s words register. “Oh, sorry! I’ll delete it.”

Jesus, he looks absolutely devastated. What’s with him and his obsession with pictures? “No, no. Don’t. It’s fine. I was just taken aback. My candids are atrocious.”

Cal studies the picture with pursed lips. “You look lovely.” He looks at Dawson uncertainly. “Can I take more?”

“You don’t have to ask each time,” Dawson says gently, shooting him a smile. “I’m giving you blanket permission.”

“Sorry, just after last time…” He looks uncomfortable, and Dawson doesn’t have to guess what the last time is that he’s referring to.

Dawson clears his throat, his mind flashing back to those pictures and the deep humiliation and betrayal he felt at seeing them. “Yeah, maybe no nudes for now.”

“No nudes,” Cal says solemnly. “Got it.”

He tries to act naturally and not focus on Cal as he takes more pictures. Hopefully, he’ll only keep the good ones. After a while, it seems that Cal is done, looking at the phone with a soft smile on his lips. It makes something inside Dawson ache, but he’s not brave enough to examine it too closely. He’s done way too much examining today already.

Once the sauce is done, he switches the burner off, wipes his hands on a tea towel, and pulls out his phone.

“My turn,” he announces, not giving Cal a chance as he clicks the shutter, taking several pictures in quick succession. He checks them, a laugh bursting out of him. “You look like a deer caught in the headlights!”

Cal’s cheeks turn pink, and he glares at Dawson. “You took me by surprise.”

Dawson snaps a pic of his annoyed face, making it deepen. “Revenge.” Giggling at the picture, he doesn’t notice Cal taking a picture as well.

“Ha,” Cal says smugly.

Dawson props his hands on his hips. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?”

Cal straightens his back, lifting his chin. “That is how it’s gonna be.”

“This means war. You know that, right?”

Cal smirks. “Bring it on.”

Dawson narrows his eyes. “I’m gonna take a picture when you least expect it. It will be sooo baaad.”

“I’ll take a worse one of you.”

Dawson narrows his eyes in challenge. “We’ll see.”

The war will have to wait, though, if Dawson doesn’t want to burn their dinner.

Spooning up a bit of the sauce, Dawson brings it to his lips, tasting it. It’s okay, but…not quite what he was going for. He dips the spoon in, scooping up more sauce and holding it out to Cal. “Can you try this for me? I think it’s missing something. Not sure if it’s just salt—” The words get stuck in his throat when Cal’s fingers circle gently around his wrist, maneuvering it a little as he leans forward and takes the spoon in his mouth.

Some inhuman noise comes out of Dawson, but it must be quiet because Cal doesn’t comment on it. He hums as he savors the sauce.

“It’s perfect. Don’t think it needs more salt.”

“Okay.” Dawson winces when it comes out as a squeal. He clears his throat for the hundredth time. “Good.”

Making a grab for the wooden spoon, he continues stirring the sauce, even though it doesn’t need it anymore. His heart hammers in his chest like a wild beast and his wrist tingles where Cal touched him.

Jesus, what’s happening to him?