Work Text:
Caleb: waaait
Caleb: are you asking me to come over? ;)
You bite your lower lip as your thumbs hover over the screen. Of course you want him to come over, but will Tara and Simone consider it bothersome to have your… Caleb there when it kinda was supposed to be a girls’ night?
Your contemplation over a reply takes too long for Caleb’s patience and before you can hit even one letter, he calls you. You thought he was supposed to be at work having meetings all day.
“What’s up?” you answer.
The instant the first prolonged syllable leaves Caleb’s mouth, you can hear him smiling.
“Soo… You’d tell me if there was a reason I shouldn’t come down to Linkon next weekend, right?”
Caleb’s familiar, teasing tone makes warmth bloom in your soul and on your cheeks.
“I don’t know,” you groan and switch to cradling the phone between your other ear and palm. You pull out another creamy white cardigan from the rack and inspect it critically, tilting your head. Why do they all look the same?
“You don’t know?” Caleb laughs on the phone, the sound a safe haven from all the stupid thoughts in your head.
“I promised to cook for Tara and Simone. So. It’s a girls’ night. Maybe,” you add tentatively.
Caleb is silent for a while. “Mm. Okay.”
You sense the ‘but’ incoming and wait for him to continue. After scrutinizing the cardigan for a second longer, you sigh inwardly and put it away. Perhaps a bit too vanilla. White might also be too susceptible to stains.
“What if… I cooked for you all and then went out for a few hours so you can have your girl talk,” Caleb finally suggests.
You like the idea more than you care to admit. For the past year, Caleb has spent every weekend and your concurrent day off either in Linkon with you or you have traveled to Skyhaven to his place. And yet, the people who know you’re… acquainted can be counted with one hand.
Humming aloud to get some time to think, you pull out another cardigan from the clothes rack. It’s a nice shade of deep navy blue, but the material feels itchy against your fingers so you immediately put it away.
“Well?” Caleb urges. He doesn’t seem to have any patience today.
“You don’t have to do that – I mean, how would I even introduce you?” you say with a sigh and only afterwards realize the loaded question you threw into existence.
Silence on the phone. You can almost hear Caleb swallow and the clothing store disappears around you as gravitation tilts, making you hang on to his every word.
“You could always just tell them I’m your boyfriend.”
Your breathing is suddenly very shallow and your throat feels dry.
Boyfriend.
“Yeah. I could do that,” you admit with poorly executed nonchalance.
Caleb definitely swallows.
“Do you… want to?”
“Want what?”
“Tell your colleagues about me?”
Yes, yes you do. Without any question or hesitation and heart full of whatever has grown between you and Caleb ever since your reunion. Not wanting to put pressure on him, you never suggested meeting your friends or colleagues. Just having him to yourself was enough; the world didn’t need to know. But lately, you’ve found yourself longing for something more that would come with a degree of exposure for the relationship.
“I… When you put it like that, there’s no reason not to,” you finally answer.
“Then it’s settled,” Caleb confirms in a sing-song voice. “There’s this pasta recipe I’ve been wanting to try out.”
Just like that, as if nothing happened.
Boyfriend.
The world’s axis has just tilted, sliding you to orbit that much closer to Caleb and your feet feel unstable. It’s a miracle the clothing racks aren’t sailing past you towards the new focal point of the universe – that currently resides at the Farspace Fleet’s HQ in Skyhaven.
“Pasta sounds great,” you hear yourself replying.
“I–” There is a rustling sound over the call that makes Caleb inhale sharply. “I gotta go, there’s another meeting starting soon, but I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sure. Bye, Caleb.”
“Bye, pip-squeak!”
You grip the phone in your hand, staring stupidly at the dark screen. For all intents and purposes, it seems that you just managed to agree to have Caleb come over, cook, and be introduced as your boyfriend to Tara and Simone.
Clasping your lower lip between your teeth, you quickly write him a message and hit send before you have the chance to think it through.
Me: See you on Friday, boyfriend.
He responds almost instantly, as if he had been mirroring your posture of staring at the phone in his hand.
Caleb: its a date ;)
Because he was. Caleb also finds himself more bothered by your message than he thought he would be. So much that he barely registers the pain of hitting his elbow on the edge of the desk a moment ago. What exactly did he just push on to you? These Fleet budget meetings must have bored him into insanity. Just thinking about spending the evening in the domestic bliss of your apartment kitchen, chatting with you and your colleagues, and showing off his cooking skills makes him feel like he is floating and the feeling is more intense than the zero gravity simulator at the Academy ever was.
He just has to suffer through this week filled with budget reviews and Deepspace patrol update meetings. Then he can go back to Linkon, to you, to–
To do what? He doesn't really know.
“Colonel?”
Caleb’s head snaps up from the report on the holographic screen. In the last 15 minutes (of which most were spent on his phone instead), he has barely made any progress reading it. Turns out just staring at the letters does not automatically convey the information into his brain nor does chatting with you make him work more efficiently. Quite the contrary, really.
Caleb clears his throat and automatically checks his posture and expression.
“About the K67 incident…” Liam starts, waiting for the Colonel’s acknowledgement to continue the report.
Caleb puts the screen down and stands up, exuding every bit of authority he possesses. He has officially run out of patience for the day.
“Proceed as planned with the fallout. You’re authorized to make the necessary changes to the patrol rotations. I need to leave.”
Liam doesn’t even blink. “Yes, sir.”
Caleb nods to the other officers filing into the conference room on his way out. No one dares to try and stop him. Good.
As he walks down the corridor to his office, two thoughts chase around his head.
First, that meeting could have been an email from the start.
Second, he knows exactly what he would like to do to you the moment he gets his hands on you.
Boyfriend.
It’s been 52 weeks and four days since you hugged Caleb in the interrogation room at the Farspace Fleet airship. A vital eternity. It hasn’t been easy, especially getting used to this new dynamic between you, but Caleb has slowly come to realize there is room for something else now, something more.
The eternity ahead until Friday arrives is almost as long as the past 52 weeks and four days.
You let Tara and Simone know that you have a personal chef coming over, to cook dinner just for them. The news is received with excited intrigue, as expected, and you realize too late you shouldn’t have given them so many days to pester you about it. The word ‘boyfriend’ almost slips off your tongue three times.
“Who is it?” Tara mouths the words at you in the middle of mission debrief and Simone winks at you. Captain Jenna clears her throat and Tara bites her lips to hide a grin. You roll your eyes. Great.
When Friday afternoon finally arrives, you use up some of your extra hours to leave early and take care of grocery shopping based on the list sent by Caleb – plus buy dessert. When picking out the produce for the pasta sauce, Caleb’s professional tips on choosing the most fresh vegetables flash back into your mind and you must look like an idiot smiling at the tomatoes and grinning at the cilantro.
There are still several items left on the list and very precise instructions on what kind of meat to buy, when Caleb texts you to let you know that he is on his way from Skyhaven. The Coelum Express is fast, but not as fast as you when you finish shopping and head back home, fully ignoring the thumping in your chest. It’s normal to be excited whenever Caleb is coming over, right? Only this time something is different.
Boyfriend.
You’re almost done with a quick and nervous cleanup of the apartment when the key rustles in the lock and your breathing pauses for a moment. Excitement and elation swoop in with the next breath.
“Hellooo,” Caleb hoots from the front door and you skitter over to him.
And there he is. Your Caleb. With a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a smile across his face. He is wearing a casual black shirt and jeans. Summer is almost here so it’s warm enough without a jacket.
“Hey,” you greet Caleb, suddenly feeling overly conscious about the way you’re just standing in the middle of the room, wrangling your hands and looking at him.
“Hey,” Caleb replies, eyes softening. The duffle bag hits the floor.
What would you normally do?
Probably throw a cleaning rag at him and tell him to start by wiping the dust from the bookshelf.
Boyfriend.
“Everything set up for Operation Dinner Party?” Caleb asks, his eyes twinkling softly, and the awkwardness eases up a little.
You nod eagerly, clutching the lifeline the question offers. “Almost. I’ll just finish cleaning up the living room real quick. You can begin preparing the food, if you want.”
Caleb starts rolling up his sleeves. “Nah, the recipe doesn’t require that much preparation and there’s still plenty of time. I’ll help you out.”
He swings his wrist in an arc and you turn around to see the messy horde of plushies floating into a neat row. You’ve been just throwing them on the sofa when bringing home the newest prizes from the arcade.
You make yourself busy with emptying the coffee table and wiping dust. Caleb hovers around, routinely moving clutter to its place. You’ve noticed he has a system when cleaning and sometimes it’s both irritating and awe-inspiring. However, you can’t deny the efficiency since within minutes the living room looks presentable again.
“So. What’s the protocol for tonight?” Caleb asks as he folds the woolen blanket and places it neatly over the sofa back.
“Cook, dine, entertain,” you list as you attack the last bits of dust on the shelves.
He nods and continues in a sly voice: “Got it. And what’s our strategy, girlfriend ?”
You know he is watching you, waiting to see the reaction blooming across your cheeks.
“Haven’t thought about that yet,” you reply coolly.
Caleb chuckles, seeing right through you as usual. “Liar.”
The low tone sends a sweet pulse across your spine and you swallow. Caleb’s eyes narrow with amusement and something else; He looks hungry, keenly waiting for your next move.
You throw the dusty rag at him and he easily catches it with his Evol.
“Stand by for your orders,” you quip and grin.
“Yessir!” Caleb’s whole demeanor relaxes with a low huff of laughter, but you have an inkling you’re not yet done with this particular topic. “But you should rest a little. You must be tired from the long week.”
You shrug half-heartedly. “I’m okay. I’ll be energized when we start cooking and the girls get here.”
Caleb places a hand atop your head and pats it lightly. His warmth is so familiar and soothing. It’s the same motion he has done a thousand times, but this time it makes that sweet pressure coil and roll inside your chest. His hand slides down to your cheek and his thumb swipes gently over it before he pulls back. Your mouth opens to inhale but your lungs seem to have stopped cooperating.
“You sure? There’s still time for a short nap,” he murmurs, the galaxies in his eyes soft and swirling with affection.
How many times have you taken a nap in his arms? And Caleb has always been a good boy. Too good.
“Nah, I don’t want to risk feeling groggy,” you reply and swallow thickly.
“Okay,” he says with a light smile, “Maybe we should start prepping the food then.”
You manage a nod, take the dirty cleaning rag from him, and promptly disappear into the bathroom to rinse it. Alone, you realise how loudly your heart is thumping and each beat makes your head swim with a tender sensation.
Maybe it’s just you, but your Caleb feels different today. Maybe it’s because you agreed to step out of the boundaries of your established relationship. Even if it’s supposed to be only for simplifying the explanation to your friends.
“You could always just tell them I’m your boyfriend.”
Or maybe, it’s because agreeing to those words was a permission and now you’re both on uncharted ground, figuring out the new rules for your relationship. The notion is heady and sweet, and it manages to make your heart race even faster.
“So what time are the ladies arriving?” Caleb asks as you come into the kitchen – as if nothing unusual is going on. He is already preparing the vegetables to be washed and something about the homey scene flicks the tender feeling up another notch. You don’t know how you will survive this dinner with Tara and Simone present.
“At seven, maybe a bit earlier,” you reply, glancing at the digital clock on the holoscreen window. Almost an hour to go.
“Plenty of time then,” Caleb hums in thought.
Soon you fall into a comfortable routine, watching Caleb peel and cut the onion and garlic. Your job, as always, is to set the table, so you reach for the plates from the upper cabinet next to him. Caleb flashes you a smile and focuses back on the vegetables. His black shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing his forearms, and you become distracted by how the muscles bunch and relax as he works. He holds the piece of onion carefully with his fingertips while operating the knife with the other hand. The motion is stern and precise; an inescapable process.
His shampoo smells faintly like the Asiatic apples he so loves. You absent-mindedly wonder what if he were to press your back against the counter, to hold you that tightly and kiss you like his life was depending on it as your fingers threaded into his soft hair.
“What’s up?” Caleb asks, pulling you from the reveries.
“Huh? Nothing.”
Reaching for the plates without watching what you’re doing, you fumble and a screech of ceramics signals that something is about to come flying into the destructive embrace of gravity.
By the time your eyes return to what you were supposed to be doing, two plates are suspended in mid-air.
“Careful, pip-squeak,” Caleb chuckles. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah. Sorry,” you mumble and sheepishly pick up the plates, feeling how his eyes linger on you.
Caleb’s Evol always was really handy. His reflexes have only grown faster and you feel a smidge of embarrassment. A Hunter should be less clumsy. On the other hand, a Colonel should be less distracting when he cooks.
The clock ticks closer and closer to seven. Everything is set ready and you’re quite happy with how your place and the setup for the dinner looks. The food is stewing on the stove and the scent is divine, as expected. It was a good call to let Caleb cook, although it feels a bit like cheating since the last time you had dinner with your friends, Simone cooked herself. But she doesn’t have a boyfriend to do it for her. As far as you know.
“Pip-squeak?”
“Hm?”
Caleb leans on the counter next to you, a teasing brow arched in question as you look up from mindlessly scrolling on your phone. “Have you thought about a strategy yet?”
Strategy. How do normal couples behave in the presence of their friends? Light touches? Longing gazes? Holding hands?
Kissing?
You swallow. There must be nothing normal about considering a military-grade acting strategy for a dinner with friends.
“I’m all ears,” Caleb whispers, suddenly so close to you. The scent of Asiatic apples mixes with the simmering pasta sauce and it must be your favourite scent in the universe.
You inhale shakily. You’re hyper-aware of Caleb’s body next to you, his forearms leaning on the counter so close that they almost brush yours.
“They should be here soon, sooo. Let’s play it by ear,” you finally manage to say and continue scrolling without actually looking at anything.
“By ear, huh?” Caleb murmurs. He swipes a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch tickles and shivers course across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The warm pressure swells inside your chest.
“In that case… How do you feel about PDA?” he asks in a tone that could melt you.
“I guess I don’t have enough information to form an opinion,” you make a stupid, stupid reply.
Caleb hums, surprised. “Perhaps we could rectify that as part of our strategy?”
You turn your head, bewildered, and your eyes meet, and everything is paused. Caleb’s eyes are bright and filled with unvoiced mirth, but that’s not all there is. Hope, curiosity, concern. A yearning, intriguing mix of emotions that takes your breath away and blooms tender warmth.
Would Caleb suggest something like that if he didn’t mean it?
The doorbell rings but neither of you reacts. Your fingertips land on his chest – instantly feeling how his heartbeat is quickened – and look up just as he keeps his face tilted toward you.
Your Caleb would never tease you about this.
“We should open the door,” he murmurs with an undertone that makes it painfully clear he doesn’t really want to open the door.
“We really should,” you reply without moving a muscle.
Caleb’s eyes skip downward and your lips part in response. The heady warmth grows until your skipping heart is pushed to your throat. Neither of you moves and the doorbell rings again, accompanied by a series of sharp knocks.
Caleb sighs, lays a hand on your shoulder and leans down to place a kiss at the crown of your head. Heat blooms on your face, but he nonchalantly walks past you to the door. You need three full seconds to recover and scurry after him.
“So, how did you guys meet?” Tara shoots instantly after the introductions. Her eyes twinkle with excitement and you know she is going to have so many questions.
You groan, but Caleb just chuckles, undeterred and steadfast. He was mentally prepared for this. Him being sociable and easy-going by nature, you don’t need to discuss strategy to agree to let him handle this. Caleb always was the one to soak up the attention of other people and be the center of attention, voluntarily or otherwise. He is like the sun, wherever he goes, and you could never admit to being jealous, but you think he still knows: you’re jealous that you have to share him with other people.
“Can we please eat first and have the third degree later?” you whine and motion towards the set table.
“It smells amazing!” Simone notes and when Caleb’s attention turns to the stove, she winks at you. You roll your eyes in response.
The praising of Caleb’s cooking skills doesn’t stop once it starts. Trust him to make the perfect first impression. Secretly, you’re relieved, impressed, and slightly annoyed.
The meal progresses nicely; some discussion about work is had until Tara starts to groan, Caleb explains his job as vaguely as possible (“I’m a pilot and explore the Deepspace on routine patrols.”) and you share some memories together from before the reunion, implying that you happened to just go to the same school and live near each other. Simone complains about you hoarding all the handsome neighbors in Linkon City and you promise to let Doctor Zayne and Xavier know about the complaint. She doesn’t enjoy the joke, neither does Caleb, while Tara almost spits out her drink and wheezes.
When the huge bowl of pasta and sauce is almost gone, you don’t think you can eat anything ever again. Your pants feel tight and you really shouldn’t have had that last forkful. Pasta like this is a treat since Caleb usually prefers healthier dishes.
“Should we wait a bit before the dessert? I’m so full,” you propose with a chortle.
“Uff. Yes, please,” Simone says, patting her belly, and Tara nods eagerly.
“Well then, excuse me, ladies. I’m gonna go out for a bit,” Caleb says and looks at everyone with a placating smile.
“Oh you’re leaving?” Tara asks in a disappointed whine.
“I’ll give you ladies some girl time,” he chuckles, gets up and lands a meaningful gaze on you. “Do we need to get anything for the weekend if I stop by the store?”
You shrug with one shoulder. “I think we’re good. Unless there’s something you want to buy?”
Tara and Simone look from Caleb to you as he takes his plate to the sink. Two very unnerving smiles spread on their lips. A sense of dread tingles through you. Without backup, there is a chance your defences might crumble before Tara and Simone’s assault of questions. What if you asked Caleb to stay anyway? Who needs girl time when there is a new boyfriend to introduce?
Caleb only smirks on his way to the door and waves a hand at your pleading eyes.
Stupid Caleb.
The moment he steps outside, Tara and Simone are on you like N109 thugs on rumors about Aether Cores.
“Where did you meet?”
“Didn’t you say you’re just friends?”
“Does he do all the cooking for you?”
“He works for the DAA?”
“So is he a good kisser?”
You slap your hands to cover your ears and flee to the living room with maniac cackling snapping at your feet.
Somehow you survive the interrogation by offering minimal information. Tara and Simone chalk it up to your shyness about the fresh relationship and don’t give you too much of a hard time. They both eagerly subscribe to any news about you and Caleb. With a groan, you promise to keep them up to date, and successfully distract them with lemon sorbet as dessert.
Caleb takes his time returning and your friends are about to leave when keys jingle and rustle at the front door.
“It was great to meet you,” Caleb says with a bright smile that doesn’t falter one bit at the narrowed eyes you throw his way.
Tara and Simone are delighted and already planning a coffee date. You just nod, hoping they will give up. They won’t.
After final goodnights, the door clicks shut and you return to the kitchen. You fill the sink with almost scalding hot water and soon bubbles erupt all over the surface. Having packed the leftovers into the fridge, Caleb brings the last of the dirty dishes to the sink.
He settles to lean back on the counter next to you, ready to keep you company while you wash the dishes. It’s a comfortable routine: he cooks, you wash the dishes.
“Will you make this pasta again for me?” you ask absent-mindedly.
“Anytime you want, pip-squeak,” Caleb replies and you look up to see him inspecting you with an unreadable expression and a tilted head.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, just thinking,” he shrugs.
You want to say how nice it was to have him over with your friends here. How natural it felt. Standing at the top of the border surrounding your relationship, everything looked so blurry and distant. After taking the leap, you realize the ground is now stable underneath your feet and Caleb’s gravity is pulling you more strongly towards him than it ever has.
You had a year to sort out these feelings. If you don’t proclaim them soon, this tenderness is going to make you burst.
“What about?” you ask.
“Hm?”
“You said you were thinking.”
“How would you rate our teamwork?” Caleb asks and through the lilt of playfulness you can hear concern.
“One-hundred percent,” you reply instantly.
“Huh. And I haven’t even submitted my final report for review.”
You roll your eyes but sense him smiling too.
“I think… We are good together,” you say and feel it in your gut how honest and pure the notion is. The tender warmth settles inside you like a favourite blanket. Something slows down to a heady pause and you become very aware of the warmth radiating from Caleb’s body right next to you. The water feels cool in comparison. His arms are no longer folded on his chest and he is fully facing you.
“I…” Caleb starts, but trails off, uncertain.
You turn to see his hand hovering in the air, tempted but hesitant to touch you.
“What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, barely getting the words out because your heart is lodged in your throat again and it’s struggling like a humming bird in a net.
“I want this to be real,” he confesses.
He leans down, slowly, breathing shallowly, and presses his forehead against yours.
You close your eyes, just for a moment to enjoy the feeling of him this close. He does the same.
“Caleb, it is real.”
He inhales shakily.
“Please,” he husks.
Your hands, still wet with suds running down your forearms, thread into his hair, fingertips caressing his scalp. Caleb lets out the most unarming low moan that is made of pure yearning and need finally fulfilled.
He pushes you against the counter and you feel the warm water stain your backside, sinking into your skin, followed by a sliver of coolness. His hands land on your neck and shoulder, fingers swiping back and forth to feel every bit of skin, to feel you. Your bodies press together, noses brush, and shaky, eager but unsure breaths mingle.
There are a thousand things you want to say, but none are coherent enough to be said when Caleb’s lips hover right above yours.
The few hesitant seconds are a sweet torture, then your lips finally meet. Two objects encountering at their barycenter. Although careful, there is no hesitation when the kiss happens. You enjoy every erratic and fluttering beat inside your chest, every light breath that smells like Asiatic apples, every point where Caleb’s hands touch your skin and his fingertips press their soft marks on you.
It’s the end of something that previously existed between you two. It’s the turning point, and the beginning of something wonderful and new, though not completely unfamiliar. A supernova that reverberated through the whole star system.
Just when the elements have been completely blown apart and rearranged, Caleb pulls back with a pleased, throaty hum.
You’re reluctant to let him go. Your lips tingle pleasantly as the heady air dissipates and a new sense of normalcy settles in.
“Girlfriend…” Caleb murmurs. Neither of you can remember the last time he sounded so happy.
The smile spreads wide over your cheeks too. Whatever wonderful happens going forward will require a new strategy, but it will be built together.