Page 114 of Should the Sky Fall

Cal passes him the container. Dawson goes to add more flour to the batter but gets a better idea. He pushes the container back towards Cal. “Actually, you have a go. Go on,” he prompts, smiling encouragingly when Cal doesn’t make a move. Finally, he takes the container and the spoon, looking at Dawson expectantly.

“Okay, add a few spoons, then mix it in like before. You want the whisk to leave a bit of an imprint for a second or two, that’s how you know it’s right. A little more flour. Now, see?”

Cal studies the batter intently. “Oh. Yeah. I didn’t notice last time.”

“I didn’t point it out.” Maybe he should start explaining what he’s doing and why when he’s cooking. In his defense, he hadn’t expected Cal to have any culinary interests. “What else did you put in?”

“Um…eggs. Baking powder, milk, a little oil.”

“How many eggs?”

“Two.”

That should be fine. The ingredient ratio will be a little off since he doesn’t know how much batter there was initially, but they’ll make it work. If the first pancake is crap, they’ll simply add more of the other ingredients.

“Perfect. Wanna try again?” He offers Cal the mixing bowl.

Cal looks at it warily.

“I’m kind of hungry,” Dawson tries to sway him. It works.

“Okay.” Cal takes the bowl. “But I ruined the pan.”

Dawson gives the pan a quick glance. “It should scrub off. In the meantime, you can use the ceramic one.”

He lets Cal do everything, pointing out a thing or two when Cal struggles with something. He takes pancake making so seriously Dawson has to capture the moment.

Cal shoots him a dirty look when he hears the shutter of the camera. “That was low.”

“It’s a good picture!” It really is, which means Dawson can’t use it for their game, but he doesn’t care. Cal holding a spatula and glaring at the pan, willing it to cook faster, is priceless. Hell, he might set it as his wallpaper.

Ten minutes later, they have a plate full of warm, perfect-looking pancakes, not a single one burned.

Dawson takes a picture, then makes Cal hold the plate in front of him and snaps another one. He tries not to laugh at Cal’s poker face.

“Great job, Cal.” He means it. He’s never taught anybody anything, and seeing Cal so proud of his accomplishment, blushing at the compliment, makes Dawson all warm and fuzzy. He wants to remember this feeling, this moment, the simple domesticity of it all.

“Let’s take a picture together.”

Cal looks surprised but is eager to agree. Dawson goes to stand beside him, but with Cal being a good head taller, he can’t get a good angle.

“You’ll have to take it. My arms aren’t long enough.”

Cal takes the phone, extending his arm. “Is this good?”

Dawson checks—it’s not bad, they’re just a little too far apart. Hesitating for a second, Dawson winds an arm around Cal’s waist, plastering himself to his side. Cal does the same, his hand coming to rest on Dawson’s ribs.

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Dawson says, his throat feeling raw. “Say cheese.”

Cal frowns at the camera. “Why would I say cheese?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Dawson groans. “Just smile, will you?”

“Oh.” His lips twitch. “Okay.”

Dawson doesn’t smile; he bursts out laughing, Cal’s attempt at a smile setting him off. His confusion makes Dawson only laugh harder, and soon Cal joins in too. They’re still laughing, their faces red and eyes watering, when Cal snaps a picture.