Work Text:
You're busy chopping vegetables when your phone rings, so you don't bother checking the screen before answering. "Hello?"
"Uh, hi."
A grin splits your face, just like every time. "Hey, you. I was just making dinner, do you know when you'll be home?"
Silence. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the disappointment that's building, because he's about to say he can't make it again.
"It's John. Porter. From the coffee shop?"
You fumble the knife, dropping it on the floor and nearly slicing yourself as it falls. "Shit! Sorry! Sorry, I... Thought you were Lucas. Obviously."
"Obviously," John agrees with a chuckle, and now you're biting your lip for a different reason because he sounds exactly the same. How are you supposed to deal with two of them?
"So you're calling because..." You pick up the knife and set it in the sink before grabbing a clean one.
"Lucas said to keep in touch."
"Of course he did. Did he happen to mention why it had to be me? Not that I'm irritated that you're calling me!" Biting back another curse, you rub your forehead hard and try not to sigh.
"He said he didn't know if he'd be... Dealing with sensitive information whenever I decided to call."
Why hadn't you thought of that? You were more concerned with somebody you didn't know having your number and possibly calling it. "Right. So you know he... What he does?" You're surprised that you even know what he does, but you're glad it's not kept a secret from you.
"I'm in a similar line of work, actually."
"Of course you are." How did this become your life? Involved with a spy, and getting tangled up with another who looks exactly like yours. You can hardly believe that you'd actually seen them both at the same time.
"Actually, I told Lucas I'd have phone sex when you called, as payback for giving my number to a man I don't know," you blurt without thinking, and then you have to squeeze your eyes shut in your embarrassment.
"Bit risky when you're cooking, isn't it?"
That startles a laugh out of you. "Oh, I don't know, I could probably describe everything I'm doing in a sexy way. I've got a knife in my hand right now."
"Ooh, very sexy. What are you doing with the knife?"
You give the cutting board a silly grin and adjust your phone to sit between shoulder and ear. It would be easy to pretend this is Lucas - you've done things like this with him before - but you force yourself to remember it's not. "Cutting things. Some vegetables. And then..." You pause dramatically, and make your voice go breathy. "Then I'll cut some meat."
John laughs. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be aroused or frightened by that."
You choose that moment to bring the knife down hard through a potato, the knife thunking against the board. You wait a moment, trying to hold in your giggling, then say, "I won't judge you if you're aroused."
"Hmm. Tell me more about this cutting. What's the full line up?"
You glance at what you have, eyeing it all up. You're more careful as you really start chopping things, not wanting to chop your fingers in the process. "Well, first up are potatoes. Then there are tomatoes, and some bell peppers, and I'm putting off the onions as long as I can."
"Wise decision."
"Yeah. And then I've got some chicken breasts that I'll slash a bit." You add a bit of heavy breathing for effect, but end up laughing halfway through.
"And then what? What are you going to do with all of this after you've taken the knife to it?" John's words are peppered with chuckles, but he's made his voice go low and intimate.
"First I'll put all the veggies in a roasting tin, and then the chicken goes on top, and then I'll spoon out some pesto and olive oil mix onto the breasts." You start putting potatoes in the tin, after they're chopped how you want them. "Still with me?"
"Now I'm more hungry than anything else."
You laugh as you quickly chop through the tomatoes and get the peppers. "Just don't judge me too harshly when I'm sniffling over the onions."
John laughs and you continue on like that, through the peppers and onions, mixing the olive oil and pesto together, and then slicing the chicken. Once you've placed the whole thing in the oven, you set the timer and go sprawl on the couch, John's voice still in your ear.
By the time Lucas walks in, dinner is almost done. You peek over the back of the couch, and then sink back down, stretching into an arch and moaning, "Yeah, baby, I like that."
"Did Lucas just walk in?"
"Oh yeah," you sigh, setting one hand on your chest and waiting. When Lucas leans over to peer at you with a frown, you bite your lip and slide your hand down your belly.
"What's he doing?"
Lucas lifts an eyebrow at you, still frowning. You pout. "He's being a total spoilsport. No fun at all."
With a roll of his eyes, Lucas reaches down for your phone. You twist out of the way.
"He wants to talk to you, now. Thanks for humoring me for so long," you say, slapping at Lucas' insistent hand.
"I enjoyed listening to you cook."
"I just bet you did, you kinky bastard." John laughs loudly, and you can still hear it when you relinquish your phone to Lucas.
"Entertaining my girlfriend, I see," Lucas says, but he sounds far from hostile. He comes around to the front of the sofa and you move enough that he can settle in behind you.
"Ah, yes, she's very good at working up a man's appetite," he continues, wrapping his arm across your chest and kissing the side of your head. "I thought you'd like to know that we are, in fact, not related, surprising as that is."
You twist to look up at Lucas and he offers you a smile, bending to press his mouth to yours, however briefly.
"Mmm, yeah. She'd like that. Give me a call when you want to arrange something."
Your brow furrows in suspicion. They just met and they're already plotting against you. Or for you, since apparently you're supposed to enjoy whatever it is.
Lucas touches your forehead lightly, smoothing his thumb over your eyebrows until you relent and let them even out. "I like the way you think, Porter," he chuckles, stroking his knuckle down the bridge of your nose.
There's the sudden beeping from the kitchen, and you kiss Lucas' palm before pushing yourself up. As you take care of dinner, you listen to Lucas say his goodbyes, and then there's silence for a time, save for the creaking of floorboards.
As soon as you've checked that the food is done and removed the oven mitts, Lucas' arms wrap around your waist, his face pressing into your neck.
"So what am I supposedly liking?" You ask, running your hands over his arms.
You can feel him grin against your skin. "That's a surprise for later," he murmurs, kissing up to your ear. "What did you make for dinner? It left an impression on our dear friend."
You can't help but laugh, because it's actually Lucas' favorite, and you and John had all the fun while you made it. You wouldn't mind if it became John's favorite, too.