Tight Pants and Loose Aprons

“What are you doing, Zeke?” the angel asked himself in a lower pitched voice which sounded too much like Malachi, the Chief Elder of Alba and his always judgmental eema, in his head.

“I’m repairing damaged power circuits,” he answered back as he moved furtively through the access tunnels of the Alban mechanical systems on the fifth floor near the upper surface of the underground city.

“You’re a supervisor, Zeke. It’s barely daylight. Don’t you have on call technicians for that?”

“Why yes, yes I do, but a good supervisor should have eyes on the ground, umm, on the circuits, keep skills up, answer the call of duty when needed.”

He stopped in front of a large control panel, readjusted the fabric toolkit worn like a satchel diagonally across his left shoulder to allow quick access to tools and parts. After keying the latch open, he stared at the conglomeration of faintly lit, transparent tubes carrying tinted gasses and liquids, all pulsing with a steady, low hum.

“Why Zeke, everything seems to be in good working order.”

“Why yes, yes it does,” he pulled out a wrenching tool without removing his eyes from the energy producing board. “Until I break it,” he moaned.

“Which color do you have to break?” a voice whispered behind him.

With a startled yelp, Zeke jerked his wings open, his arms flew up as he flipped around. His wings battered the owner of the voice flinging the body with a thud to the metal flooring.

“Pete! What are you doing here?”

“Watching your back. It’s your first covert mission,” the dark-haired human dabbed at his mouth with a mild grimace. He lay on the floor leaning up on one elbow.

“It appears it’s your back that needed watching,” the angel crossed his arms peering down at his friend. “And you’re bleeding.”

“We’ve ascertained that your rear-guard reaction is effective, but that wasn’t your assignment, now was it?” Pete reached out his hand with a single raised eyebrow chastising the taller angel. Zeke leaned forward grabbing the proffered hand and yanked hard, pulling Pete completely off the ground before settling him back on his feet. The former fugitive wiped at his cracked lip with the back of his hand causing a wince. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” he stated from experience.

“I am trying to figure out how I let you talk me into this,” the angel groused.

“Because love is in the air, Zeke,” Pete reminded him slipping his hands between his wings to grip his shoulders and spin him back to face the open power conduits. “Two for one.”

“What, criminal trespass and destruction of property?”

“Fine. Let me break it,” the human held out his open palm for the tool Zeke was squeezing with a white-knuckle grip. “I’ll claim temporary insanity. Or a sudden flashback brought on by my recent near fatal injuries being hunted by one angry-ass gorilla with my agonizing death on his wish list.”

“You seem to have forgotten that an important element of this plan of yours included targeting the location for shut down then have it re-operational by later today, so I am thinking the ‘breaking’ needs a little finesse—.” The engineer waved his wrenching tool at his friend’s still bleeding lip.

“Ohhh, Zeke,” Pete feigned an exaggerated frown, “I thought you wanted to be a part of our first felonious act together—.”

“First!?!” his voice squeaked.

“Of many,” Pete leaned past him to peer into the box. “Now which color tubes do we get to break?”

“You don’t need to call anyone, Felix. Here’s Zeke now,” Burke distracted the chief chef of Mushab Mista from tapping his link bracelet to request assistance to reinitiate the power to his restaurant. Once the sparks quit flying and Zeke stopped cursing—well, cursing him—, Pete had hurried back to the restaurant knowing Felix had arrived before he joined the engineer in the mechanical access tunnels. He had watched surreptitiously as the chef entered to begin his long day, verifying his presence before joining Zeke to execute the first phase of his—their—plan. He entered the restaurant on the pretense of another favor to access the oven and stove then distracted the older man as he lamented his sudden loss of power.

“I found the problem,” Zeke explained to the white-haired human after a quick exchange of greetings, “but it’s going to be at least a day before I can get things back in order.” Pete crossed his arms thinking he would need to work with the angel on his delivery. His body language screamed guilty conscience.

“The whole day? Are you sure?” the chef jerked his head to look at key points in the room then waved toward the entrance where a podium with an old fashion reservation book waited. “We are fully booked for lunch and dinner.”

Zeke glanced toward Burke who wagged his head emphatically out of the chef’s line of sight.

“At least 24 hours—.” The angel cringed, sure Felix would call him out on his… bending of the truth.

Pete intervened, stepping up beside the elder man and clamping his hand over his shoulder. “Silver lining time, Felix. When’s the last time you had a full day off?”

“I haven’t had an evening with my family in months,” he admitted. “My wife will be beside herself.”

“Go home. Spend time with Keturah. Don’t cook for her. Take her out for the evening. Get one of your buddies to make room at the Chef’s Table in their restaurant. Give her your undivided attention. And flowers. Oh, and chocolate. Is that still a thing?”

“If you mean will she appreciate it, then yes, it’s still a… thing. But what about you? Your dinner will be ruined. You can’t use my oven like you planned.”

“Well, you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs which brings me—” Pete was saying before Felix interrupted.

“But you can’t make an omelet, Pete. There’s no power and we don’t have wood burning stoves.”

“I mean, Felix, that I am turning lemons into lemonade by—”

“True, no power is required for that, but to cook—”

“What I mean, Felix, is that since you have to be closed for service, would you allow me to host my little dinner here in your restaurant? We were gonna be cramped up in my quarters, making your loss my gain.”

“To celebrate your upcoming journey outside the city with your friends?”

“Right, to Kirtland. An old Air Force base where I was stationed when America still had an Air Force. When we still had America.”

“The servitors won’t work without power, Pete,” Felix pointed out.

“Sushi.”

Felix’s thick white eyebrows rose in delight. “I have read about that ancient food—served raw? But no one here knows what it should taste like, so no one has made it.”

“Fine. I’ll trade you one class in Norimaki preparation for the use of your restaurant this evening.”

“When are you coming to work with me, Pete?” Felix laughed, slapping his shoulder. “Then I won’t have to trade away my kitchen for that knowledge in here,” he tapped at the young man’s temple.

“Feeelixxx,” Pete pulled the man aside out of Zeke’s hearing. “My settling down is still up in the air and cooking is more of a hobby than a vocation anyway. I need to keep these on-going arrangements between you and me for now. Soooo, tonight?”

“I expect my sushi class after hours by next week. Tonight is yours, my young friend. Oh, and Pete, in the morning, I would like my restaurant returned to me in working order, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything for you, Felix.”

Zeke found Pete in the kitchen of Mushab Mista with a short, wooden skewer protruding from his mouth as he concentrated on chopping green onions and peppers. He worked at a long prep table that was pushed against one wall. Shelves holding bins for needed ingredients were beneath the tabletop. Most were empty with the cadre of cooks getting a day off. A bank of five stove tops with smaller prep sections in between each cook surface sat in an island parallel to the prep table allowing the cooks access from either side. An array of pots and pans and related cookware sat on shelves beneath the stove tops. A similar prep table sat on the far side of the cooking island. The oven banks sat at the back end of the prep tables including two masonry ovens which, for reasons Zeke couldn’t grasp, made Pete delighted. Large double basin sinks bookended the other side of the prep tables. Essential to produce much of the food ingredients, four servitors lined the back wall along with a large walk-in freezer next to refrigeration units, and an open doorway that led to storage rooms and Felix’s small office area. The food service table sat facing the double, swinging doors that opened into the large dining room.

“Power’s fully restored,” Zeke announced as he joined Pete at the prep table closest to the exit doors, laying a hand at the small of his back. “Just wanted to check in before I head down to work.”

“Perfect. Felix has a nice supply of fresh fruits and vegetables from the community gardens which you can’t beat, but Ser-Vi-Tor is going to make an appearance.” Zeke grinned at Pete’s quirk of speaking about the devices that generated most of the food and supplies used by the Albans as if it were a proper name and often using a deeper voice as he enunciated each syllable. Pete continued, “Having to make dual courses for Galen’s vegetarian preferences and Misha’s meat-only needs is a challenge and I need back-up.”

“I know they’re friends but they’re not the object of your plan…” the angel started.

“Our plan,” Pete insisted.

“If you say so. But why are they included in this love fest you have imagined?”

“They are the red herrings.”

“Is that some other dish you are making?”

“Zeke, I gotta get you up to speed on subterfuge, here,” the amateur chef paused in his chopping and turned to look at his reluctant partner. He pulled the skewer out of his mouth and set it on the counter, the chewed end hanging off the edge. “Galen and Misha are invited because they are our friends but also for misdirection. Alan and Miriam can’t wise up to our game plan. Sink the ship before we get outta the harbor. Jed and Josh just need a kick in the pants, and they are off to the races.”

“Is this a challenge to see just how many idioms and metaphors you can use in one minute?” Zeke rolled his hazel eyes.

“Har de har har,” Pete’s dark head shook back at him. “This is serious business. Precision is required to initiate different strategies to achieve similar ends. Jed and Josh just need to get off the boardwalk onto the beach. Nudges…”

“Haven’t worked.” Zeke crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter.

“Well-timed shoves then. They both want it. Neither wants to make the first move so we just block every escape hatch and push them into each other. Alan and Miriam, however…,” Pete leaned his head to one side taking a moment to rub his split lip that had started to bruise at the corner. “Al’s gotta think it’s his idea,” he murmured to himself then said, “Right now, Alan and Miriam are still in the parking lot. In different cars. They need to bump into each other accidentally.”

“Much like how the power conduit accidently sparked and almost caught fire when you opened the blue tubing instead of the green. We color code the raw materials for a reason, you know,” Zeke admonished—again.

“Exactly. You’re getting the hang of this.”

“Almost caught fire, Pete.”

“Except we want them to catch fire, remember? Miriam couldn’t be more obvious that she’s interested but Al’s so out of practice, he’s oblivious. We’re gonna put him in a social situation he can’t get out of.”

“And what would that be?”

“Seating chart. And a toast. Several toasts.”

“It’s gonna be a perfect night,” Pete whispered to Zeke. All the guests arrived on time and not a single wayward soul with a lost dinner reservation. Notice had blasted out on the universal comm-link bracelets that Mushab Mista was closed for the night followed by personal notes to those in the room that the location of dinner had been changed. Zeke raised an impressed eyebrow.

“The place looks great, Pete,” he acknowledged. A long table was set for eight with an array of silverware for the four-course meal and name placards behind each plate. A bountiful flower centerpiece and runner completed the look. A second table with a smaller version of the table centerpiece was arrayed with hor d’oeuvres of goat cheese crostini with fig-olive tapenade and thin slices of rosemary beef tenderloin on a sage flavored cracker.

“Well, these pairings are all wrong,” the angel noted turning to look at the room. Pete stood next to him; his arms crossed. Not surprising, Galen met Misha and brought him in from the Rephaim village set up outside the city proper. They hovered to themselves with Misha looking a bit awkward about what was expected, Galen acting as his guide. Jed and Miriam had arrived together from the medical center and remained chatting shop-talk near them. Alan and Josh were behind them engaged in an animated conversation about the upcoming trip to Kirtland.

“I haven’t worked my magic yet,” Burke grinned.

“I thought this was our magic, ahuvi, Zeke teased.

“Saving that for later,” Pete winked. He turned to the bar where he put the finishing touches on long-stemmed glasses filled with an amber liquid topped with white foam and a light brown design he had drawn with a toothpick. He picked one up and clinked it with a drink stirrer.

“Hey, everybody. Thanks for coming,” the host welcomed as all eyes turned his way. The group fell into a rough semi-circle with Alan moving up next to Galen and Misha sending Josh to the end of the line. “Zeke, if you would pass out the drinks, please.” The angel picked up the tray of drinks and quickly made his way around the room stopping between Jed and Miriam pushing her closer to Alan. He stealthily lifted his glass toward Pete who responded with a slight nod.

“Thanks for indulging me tonight. I’ve planned a four-course dinner for you, taking into account your food preferences,” Pete acknowledged the apes. “I never claimed to be a sommelier—I’m a JD and beer guy, really—and Ser-Vi-Tor isn’t the best at brand names, but I think I worked out some pairings you will appreciate. Every chef will tell ya, it’s all about the pairings.

“We’re starting off with a Whiskey Sour topped with foamed egg whites and some Angostura bitters. If you haven’t made your way to the hor d’oeuvre table yet, please help yourself.

“This little dinner is just my way of thanking everyone who has played a meaningful part in my recovery since I dropped into Alba—Jed and Miriam, my top-notch medical team. Literally, wouldn’t be here without you,” the young man raised his glass toward the ginger-haired angel and beautiful, blonde healer at his side. The glass tipped to each person as he continued. “Josh, for building a set of wheels and giving me access to the ignition button—okay, it doesn’t have wheels but it gets me in the driver’s seat again. We’ll talk Porshe next.” Alan grinned at the memory of his junior officer showing off his newest crush a couple of years before they left earth for Alpha Centauri.

“Misha, for turning the tide and making Alba a stronger place with the return of the Rephaim to the fold—and maybe getting Urko outta my life for good. Zeke, for helping me get my head on straight which, I promise, is no easy task.” Galen chuckled as Misha glanced at him and gestured toward his own head trying to grasp the description.

“And these two,” Pete indicated Alan and Galen and was surprised when his throat suddenly closed in an emotional stranglehold. Normally, he didn’t let things like feelings interfere with his life. He wet his lips, swallowed, and stared at the blond human and chimpanzee who had been his loyal friends and allies through some very hard and dangerous times before they found themselves in Alba. The silence stretched as he looked at two of them, his mouth moving but the words wouldn’t come; his throat burned. When Galen smiled tenderly with a glistening in his eyes, Pete thought he was going to lose it completely.

Always his lifeline, Alan raised his glass and said warmly, “Us too, Pete.”

The young man quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He found his voice declaring, “You’re the best.

“To all of you!” Pete lifted his glass and brought it to his lips. The rest followed and then fell into conversation. He was pleased to see Miriam garner Alan’s attention and begin to chat when Galen joined them. With a sigh, he took the few steps to the trio, took Galen by the arm, and pulled him away, his back toward the couple. Unseen by the chief orchestrator of future love and happiness, after making a stop for a plate of hor d’oeuvres, Josh slid over to resume his talk with the older astronaut.

“Galen,” Pete whispered conspiratorially. “I’m trying to do a little matchmaking here and you are blowing out my fire before I have a chance to get things lit.”

“Match—what?” Galen twitched.

“Making. Putting two people together who are meant for each other even if they don’t know it yet. Miriam and—,“ Pete jerked his head back toward Alan. Galen looked over his friend’s shoulder and saw that Zeke’s human brother, Josh was visiting with the healer and Alan.

“Do you think so?” the chimpanzee scowled a bit.

“I know so. It’s time.”

“If you really think…,” the doubt in his friend’s voice spurred Pete to grip his shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“Just help me on this Galen, please. It will be good for both of them.”

Galen studied the young human and the older female healer. Alan glanced around uncomfortably as if he wasn’t sure if he should move away from them to give them some privacy. The chimpanzee considered the request. He still had a lot to learn about humans, yet from what he had observed, Josh seemed young for Miriam. On the other hand, Alan seemed to sense there might be something between them. He kept looking at his feet and did that nervous gesture of biting at his lip. Maybe this was another human social more unknown to him. He decided he would do it for Pete. He affectionally tapped his friend on his chest with his knuckles.

“I am happy to help. I promise to do what I can. Do you have more of this beverage?” the chimpanzee showed him his empty glass. “This was very good.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Pete took the glass. “I will get you another but slow down a little. There’s more coming. Try the crostini—the veggie looking thing. Made it ‘specially for you.”

Pete made his way to the bar to refill Galen’s glass as the chimpanzee joined Misha who had moved to the hor d’oeuvre table and was picking up the meat then dropping it in his mouth leaving the crackers behind. Burke delivered the drink to his friend with a pat on his shoulder, said a few words with Misha, then made his way over to Zeke and Jed.

“Hey, man! I’m impressed,” Jed greeted him. “Both the hor d’oeuvres and this drink are wonderful. Going have to pace myself,” he patted his stomach. “I could have made an entire meal off that table,” he admitted waving in Galen and Misha’s direction.

“You’ve only seen the trailer,” Pete beamed. “The full show will knock you on your ass. Prepare to have a palate orgasm.”

“Pete!” Zeke exclaimed.

“They say the way to a man’s bedroom is through his kitchen; and I must say I never had a bad night between the sheets after a good one behind an apron,” the human bragged, grinning at the berry-colored glow that lit up Jed’s cheeks. Zeke gave him a withering look. Pete leaned into the brown-haired angel and whispered, “You realize I’m cooking for you, right?”

“So now you think you can entice me with a meatball?” Zeke hissed back.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Pete chuckled. “Not gonna fall for that line. But I do think you’re hungry. ‘Bout as hungry as me. But after we eat…,” he gave him a peck on the cheek before downing his drink and handing Zeke the glass. “I need you in the kitchen.”

“Give me a sec. Be right there.”

“Hey, everybody,” Pete projected across the room, stopping just in front of the kitchen doors, “find your seat.” He waved at the table. “Appetizer course on the way.” He jerked his head at Zeke to follow him as he disappeared through the swinging doors.

“Pity I don’t have a kitchen,” Jed frowned, his ginger-colored wings drooping as he watched Josh laughing about something with Miriam and Alan.

“You don’t need a kitchen when you can’t get past ‘hello,’” Zeke admonished. “He is there, and you are… um…here. Perhaps you should do something about that.” Remembering Pete’s earlier words, Zeke gave him a good-natured shove and started toward the kitchen.

From his position next to Misha, Galen saw Jed moving toward Miriam, Josh, and Alan. The chimpanzee remembered his promise to Pete and intercepted him. He grabbed Alan by the arm as he passed him, then snagged Jed, pulling them both back toward the bar. Miriam and Josh exchanged puzzled glances then Josh dropped his eyes awkwardly to his feet. Miriam sighed watching Alan move away before remarking to the young man, “We should grab another bite of those delicious thing-a-bobs before Pete puts them away.”

After getting Alan and Jed in conversation about the levels of radiation they would need to monitor on the trip to Kirtland, the hospitable chimpanzee retrieved Misha from the food table and pulled him to the place where the full dinner would be served.

“Do they always eat in so many different places on so many different plates?” the gorilla wanted to know.

“My two always find a way to be different,” Galen lamented. He noticed the names on the table and glanced up toward the kitchen doors thinking Pete must have forgotten to give out the name tags when they came in. He remembered that they had been given similar name badges when the Rephaim had an informal get together with the Council of Elders to allow everyone to get to know each other. He thought Pete should know they already knew one another’s names, but he wanted to help his friend make his night go smoothly so he gathered up the names to pass them out.

“What am I to do with this?” Misha asked as the chimp pressed the name card into his hand.

“We’ll do what I always do when Pete confounds me. We’ll ask Alan,” Galen replied with knowing smile.

Zeke paused by the kitchen door until he made sure that Jed was moving toward his little brother then pushed through the “In” side of the double doors. A half-formed yelp started in his throat as his arm was grabbed, and he was swung a full 180 into the wall. A soft kick at the back of his knee kept him off balance as he was thrust back, a body pressed fully against him, two hands pushing at his shoulders—he was about to lash out when lips locked onto his and a passionate kiss filled his senses.

His arms reached under the raised elbows of his assailant, gripping his shoulders from the back and pulled him in, his lips fully parted to welcome the tongue, the taste of whiskey sour dancing through his mouth. Grasping fingers entangled in his hair at the back of his head while another tauntingly brushed at the sensitive feathers of his wings trapped against the wall. His first attempt to speak resulted in a firmer dive into his mouth causing him to pull tighter and press harder into the kiss; his body quivered in response to the sensations coming from the different touch points including an empathic wave of burgeoning desire flowing in both directions. The other pulled away first finding a soft spot at his neck to moisten.

“Pete,” the angel groaned leaning hard into the firm body holding him against the wall. The man lifted his head in response, brown eyes teasing him even as he continued the seductive strokes of his wing.

“Now that completes the hor d’oeuvres course. Time to get appetizers underway.” Pete attempted to take a step back.

Zeke refused to let go, holding him in place, and placed a gentle kiss to the cracked area of his partner’s lip where his wing had indeed, left a mark.

“These are tight pants, Pete.”

“That’s what aprons are for.”

Back at work, Pete pulled the last of the cooked appetizers from the oven as the main dish items went in while other dishes simmered on the stove. Zeke organized the final appetizer plates onto a trolley. Baskets of squared sesame seed crackers were slid on the middle shelf of the cart. Clean napkins and silverware were available on the lowest shelf.

“Starting from the far left on the backside of the table, order the plates for Alan next to Miriam, Jed then Josh, circle around to the other side with me then you, and finally Galen next to Misha. Double up the vegetarian Mushrooms Stuffed with Pecorino Romano, Garlic, and Breadcrumbs for Galen and the Beef Steak Skewer for Misha,” the chef directed.

“Everyone else gets one of each?” Zeke wanted to verify.

“You got it. Ready for lift-off?” Pete asked as he pulled two bottles of Syrah wine from the prep table.

Using his finger to silently count through the plates, Zeke wondered, “You want all the subjects of your plan—”

“Our plan.”

“—on the far side of the table?”

“I need to—”

“We need to?”

“—keep an eye on things to move them along in the proper direction,” Pete affirmed. “Three-Two-One,” he used his back to push open the “Out” door allowing Zeke to maneuver through with the trolley. He took a step toward the dining table and froze. Their guests were seated and engaged in conversation, but it had all gone wrong. Galen sat in Alan’s spot with an empty chair next to him followed by Miriam and Josh. Misha sat in the chair Pete had designated for himself with an empty seat next to him. Jed then Alan rounded out the table.

He hurried to the table seeing the name placards in place in front of the occupants where they sat. His mouth worked like a fish gasping for air. Alan noticed his distress and offered, “Sorry, Pete. There was a misunderstanding on the name cards and Galen handed them out to everyone.” Pete shot a look at the chimpanzee who gave an apologetic shrug but nodded his head toward the far end of the table where Miriam sipped at her water and Josh fingered his unopened napkin. Pete didn’t understand the message. His attention returned to his commander. Alan went on, “No one knew how you had it set up. Galen took a guess. Do you want us to move?”

Pete’s face fell as he shook his head, “No, the plates are warm. Let’s eat. We can readjust between courses if that’s alright.” Everyone nodded acquiescence. The non-sommelier did know how to use a wine opener. He served the deep red Syrah moving around the table awkwardly criss-crossing Zeke who pulled from the original order to deliver the plates from the trolley. Pete took the chair next to Misha to avoid sharing any of his annoyance at Galen while Zeke took the seat next to the chimpanzee.

The course went well with Galen beginning to chirp and giggle playfully half-way through his second glass of wine. Misha bruised Pete’s shoulder with a hardy slap, thanking him for the delicious meat, and wondered if he could keep the skewers. The young man kept a smile, but instead of the sweet talk he had hoped for was disappointed to hear Jed next to him talking to Alan about possible environmental exposures to expect from the trip through Albuquerque into Kirtland. Miriam engaged with Zeke about Jed’s bedside manner in the clinic while surreptitiously peering around the flower centerpiece to steal glimpses of Alan. Josh fiddled with his fork unsure what to converse about. When everyone had placed their utensils down indicating they had finished, Pete was pleased that plates and wine bottles were essentially empty.

Zeke helped clear the plates and used silverware onto the trolley while Pete apologetically moved everyone to his intended places. He put Misha and Galen together at one end while on the opposite side of the table, he maneuvered Alan next to Miriam followed by Jed then Josh. He sighed thinking he should take his time in the kitchen giving them time to talk.

Shortly after their hosts disappeared into the kitchen, the Rephaim gorilla began to squirm uncomfortably in his assigned seat at the end of the table across from Alan.

“Is everything all right, Misha?” the ever-observant colonel asked.

“There is a cold wind here,” he complained. “My desert bones are shaking.”

“You are under an air circulation vent,” Alan gestured toward the ceiling. “I’ll trade seats with you.” He rose as Miriam’s shoulders fell.

“Most thankful.” The gorilla almost slapped the human to the ground in his exuberance as they passed at the end of the table.

Galen’s nose twitched. He was feeling relaxed and a bit light-headed from the wine. He looked across the table where Jed sat next to Miriam, and had begun what sounded like a work-related conversation with Josh next to him listening in. The chimp’s eyes lit up. He elevated himself in his seat to peer over the flower arrangement and asked, “I am caught in that draft, too. Jed, would you trade seats with me?”

The healer hesitated with a quick glance toward Josh but then agreed, “Of course, Galen.” The angel grabbed his glass, and rounded the table, passing Galen who paused next to the young, brown-headed human.

“Josh, would you mind terribly scooting down a seat? My leg needs to stretch out. Old injury from a fall that sent us to a very nice farm.”

“Galen, I can take a look at that later,” Jed offered. “We may be able to get rid of that discomfort for you.”

“I’ll come by and see you,” the chimpanzee agreed taking the end seat that Josh had vacated, placing him next to Miriam again. Galen couldn’t help but chirp to himself as he sipped more wine. Being a match-mater was fun. He knew Pete would be pleased.

Back in the kitchen, Zeke finished a quick wipe down of the long food preparation table, setting up clean plates, then tossed the used plates and utensils on the trolley into the servitor for recycling. He turned, arms folded at his chest, admiring his significant other at work. Pete opted to wear a style from his own time: a straight hemmed, untucked button-down black shirt with red trimmed cuffs folded just above his elbows accented by a woven red tie in a simple knot, hanging loosely at the unbuttoned, red-rimmed collar. His moppish dark hair curled suggestively around his studious face focused on the pans sizzling on the stove. The empath, aware of the slight thrumming of his body from the wine, felt a warm glow building that radiated into the room. Pete glanced over at him with a dimpled grin. The angel was completely hooked as an invisible line drew him in.

“Almost ready,” the chef returned his attention to basting the steaks in butter in the pans.

“Oh, you’re ready now,” Zeke sidled next to him one hand crossing his back to massage his far shoulder while the other grabbed the tie. He pressed against his chest with rounded strokes, following the tie to its end, leading the questing hand to his waist then slid farther down over his crotch. As he rubbed at his hardening genitals, Zeke's tongue discovered the tender spot at his open-collared shirt above his sternal notch and began nibbling upward past his Adam’s apple along his jaw.

“Trying to cook here,” Pete weakly resisted.

“You can leave your tie on,” Zeke intoned as he finally reached and engaged his lips.

“You get the burned ones,” the distracted chef breathed heavily.

“I get this one,” the angel squeezed the bundle in his hand before he took over his mouth ending the discussion. The pair remained engaged while the smells of the kitchen intensified. Pete pulled back with a gasp and leaned sidewise into the angel who continued his lower ministrations while returning to the soft neck with tender kisses.

“These are tight pants, Zeke.”

“That’s what aprons are for.”

Pete moved ahead of Zeke through the kitchen doors anxious to check on the progress of his intended pairings. He stopped dead causing the trolley to jar him in the back buckling his knees. All conversation stopped while the young astronaut used his natural athletic grace to prevent a headlong nosedive into the carpet—a stutter-step with the elegance of a lumbering moose followed instead.

“Draft,” Alan waved at the ceiling with an apologetic wince in answer to the disbelief at the table arrangement his friend revealed in his expressive face when he was once again stationary.

“I hadn’t planned on my guests—”

“Our guests,” Zeke mumbled.

“—playing musical chairs,” Pete grumbled. He shrugged at Zeke who served the main course of flat iron steak, red roasted potatoes, and asparagus with hollandaise for the majority, double portion of steak only for the gorilla, and a specialty Vegetarian Chicken-Fried Portobello Mushroom Steak with mashed potatoes and brown mushroom gravy with the asparagus on a side dish for Galen. Warm French bread with crocks of chilled herb butter made with fresh thyme, parsley, garlic and lemon zest joined the service. The chef uncorked bottles of Merlot wine making the rounds to fill glasses. With the final pour, he lifted his glass encouraging, “Bon appétit.”

The clicks and clacks of knives and forks tapping against the carefully designed presentation of food on the glass plates underscored the on-going conversations around him but gave Pete scant comfort as he mulled through alternatives to re-ignite his—their—plan. He regretted the bounty of his floral centerpiece that had been intended to give his “couples” a bit of privacy to focus on one another, but now acted as a barrier with each on opposite sides of the table. Across from him, Galen was tucking gustily into his food between swallows of wine. He occasionally caught his eye and raised a happy eyebrow with a slight tilt toward Josh who sat at his side. He couldn’t figure out what message the chimp was attempting to relay, but it did give him an idea. He tapped his knee against Zeke’s and hoped he sent an emotion-based suggestion to follow his lead. Toying briefly at the nagging sting of his lip with his forefinger, he leaned around the centerpiece calling, “Hey, Josh did you get the new installs on the hovercraft finished?”

The shy builder jerked his eyes up from his plate surprised that someone was speaking to him. A look of relief crossed his features as he was given the opportunity to talk about one of the few areas he was comfortable discussing. “Umm, almost. Everything should be green-lit tomorrow,” he grinned. His smile reminded Pete of Zeke’s. It gave him a warm feeling, just before he pounded his non-responsive partner’s leg beneath the tablecloth causing the angel’s fork full of potatoes to shake as he lifted it to his mouth.

“Oww,” he murmured quietly, shot a look first at Pete then, remembering the evening’s mission, to the top of his brother’s brown head visible over the blooms of the flowers. “Hey, Jed,” he turned to his best friend who sat on his other side, “have you had a chance to lay eyes on Josh’s baby yet? It’s a beauty.”

“Huh?” the ginger-haired angel paused; his own mouth full of asparagus.

“He’s been around Pete too long,” Al interjected from Jed’s left side. “He’s asking if you have seen Josh’s hovercraft. Josh designed and constructed an exceptional piece of work.”

“Uhh, no,” Jed paused until Zeke followed his partner’s example and slapped his friend’s knee. “Umm, no but I’d like to.” The angel leaned to one side to see to the other side of the table.

“Oh,” Josh felt a glow rise to his cheeks, and pushed himself half-way out of his chair to peer at Jed over the centerpiece. “I should be finished by tomorrow afternoon if—”

The young human suddenly toppled over bumping into Miriam spilling the wine she was sipping into the front of her v-cut blouse.

“Ooops,” Galen brought his napkin to his mouth to hide his proud smirk while he nodded excitedly at Burke. Josh flustered to right himself as both Misha and the builder began to dab at Miriam’s red splattered bosom with napkins. Alan, who had started to push himself up to offer assistance, slowly returned to his seat with his lower lip tucked between his teeth.

“Thank you, gents,” the healer gripped both helpful hands by the wrists and shoved them aside. “Limited access area. Invited guests only,” she glanced meaningfully at Virdon before grabbing her own napkin to soak up the spill. Misha guffawed while Josh went crimson and slunk back into his chair wanting to pull the entire centerpiece onto his lap to hide.

The course concluded without further mishap or conversation through the impenetrable forest. The guests finished one by one leaning back comfortably in their chairs to finish the wine. Conversation and laughter ebbed and flowed around him as Pete found himself with one elbow leaning on the arm of his chair, his thumbnail the victim of his nervous energy. He could see Josh animatedly explaining to Galen future designs to expand the Rephaim village outside of Alba. At the end of the table, his blond-haired friend had twisted his seat to better converse with Jed and Zeke about supply contingencies— Kirtland again, Al’s current obsession. Although he couldn’t see her, Miriam’s hardy laugh engaged with Misha in a garbled conversation where he thought he heard the words entrails and egesta and decided it best not to ask. Recognizing he had been silent for too long, Zeke leaned over to him and whispered, “It has been a wonderful meal, ahuvi. Your—our plan had them talking….”

“Zeke,” Pete leaned toward his ear conspiratorially advising, “the fat lady ain’t sung yet. Plan B just went into active status. Get Josh to the bar.” He patted the angel on the shoulder as he rose from his seat and gestured across the table, taking steps toward the bar. “We’re gonna refresh drinks while we let that course settle.” He grabbed Al’s arm and pulled him up as he passed. “C’mon, you have bartending experience.”

“I do?” Alan was genuinely puzzled but followed Burke without further protest.

“As I recall you entertained on more than one occasion,” the major reminded him, but regretted it as it caused a dark flash of memory to cloud Alan’s face taking his CO in the wrong direction. Now was not the time to reminisce about his life in Houston. “I just need a little help so I can put the finishing touches on dessert,” he requested.

“Whatever you need,” Alan agreed, the familiar half-smile returned his blue eyes to a happier place. Zeke hurried Josh over to the bar with a question on his brow not sure of Pete’s—ummm, their—newest plan.

“Alan, you take a tray over for Miriam, Misha, and Galen,” he nodded back toward the table. “Josh, you can serve Jed, Zeke and I while the two of us clear and prepare dessert. Cool? Cool. You got this,” he tapped both at the shoulder and turned to snare the angel.

“C’mon,” he tugged Zeke back toward the table. They had to show some initiative, didn’t they? Alan could settle in the seat next to Miriam and Josh next to Jed as a spark of hope rekindled. He grinned as the confident Colonel slipped behind the bar, held up a bottle of bourbon with a speed pourer and good-naturedly began accepting drink orders from across the room. The flummoxed young builder became more comfortable as he attentively followed Al’s directives. Yea, they got it. He and the angel cleared the table swiftly, pushing the clattering trolley back into the kitchen.

Galen watched the swinging doors of the kitchen sway for a moment then pushed away from the table to stroll to the bar. He thought it best that he contribute to Pete’s on-going wish at match-mating while he was occupied out of the room. A promise was a promise and Galen did not break promises.

“Pull those crème brûlées from the refrigerator for me, would you?” Pete asked as soon as they fed Ser-Vi-Tor another helping of dirty dishes. He arranged handled mugs on the stove counter next to a warming full coffee pot and a bottle of amaretto. Turning back to the prep table, he retrieved a previously prepared bowl of sugar and a chef’s blowtorch from the lower shelves. Over the next few minutes, Zeke helped Pete sugar and brown the brûlées then top each with fresh raspberries and mint leaves from Felix’s stash of community grown produce. As the angel set the dishes on the trolley, Pete trotted to the refrigeration unit, grabbing a bowl of whipped cream, and turned his attention to the coffee at the stove island.

The angel grinned mischievously coming up behind the preoccupied pâtissier, wrapping his arms around his chest, pinning his arms at his side.

“Gotcha,” Zeke growled in a low register. Pete gasped loudly and stiffened in his arms. Zeke sensed his fear, felt the rapid increase of his heart, and the quick short breaths dragging through his slightly parted lips. The angel quickly backed off on the amorous attention he had intended. Pete remained in recovery from trauma and little touches could unexpectantly send him back to very dark places. The empath immediately dropped his hands to rest unmoving on Pete’s trim hips, wrapped him in feelings of security and support then lay his chin across his shoulder to watch him work.

“Oh, did we forget a plate for the main meal?” Zeke noted a serving of meat in a pan on the stove. He had learned to allow Pete to discuss his flashbacks if he choose rather than pressure him by asking about it. The unusual dish was a good change of subject.

“Umm, no,” Pete replied after a momentary pause to resettle. “That’s Sticky Honey Garlic Beef. My solution for dessert for a Rephaim diet. Can’t leave Misha out.”

Zeke couldn’t help but tightened his grip at his friend’s waist and inched closer.

“Have I mentioned lately how amazing you are?” he wondered.

“Not lately enough,” Pete grinned weakly, glancing toward the brown head tucked at his shoulder. He lifted his nose up and loudly sniffed the air.

“What’s the matter?” Zeke asked.

“It’s the strangest thing,” Pete commented, “I’ve been getting whiffs of cinnamon all night but I’m not using any cinnamon. Felix must use it a lot.”

“Yyyeahhh, that would be the reason.” Zeke was glad Pete couldn’t see the redness in his cheeks and bent down to nuzzle his neck to make sure it stayed hidden. Staying within his grip, Pete turned to face Zeke, bringing a spoon overloaded with whipped cream.

“Open.”

Zeke obliged as the sweet, light texture filled his mouth immediately followed by Pete placing his other hand around his neck, pulling him into a delicious kiss.

“You keep feeding me like this and my pants will be tight for a different reason,” the angel grinned.

“Thanks for understanding,” Pete acknowledged his earlier reaction with an embarrassed flush. He dropped his head and scuffed at the floor, an unhappy frown matching the frustration he was feeling toward himself. Zeke cupped his chin and pulled his eyes up. The angel felt his heart melt as he fell into the dark welcome of his partner’s eyes and sent him waves of acceptance.

“Wherever you are, I am with you, ahuvi.”

“Right now, I’m at the Last Chance Café—”

“We’re at.”

“—trying to crank up the heat on our frozen relationships out there,” Pete sighed, feeling defeated.

“Sounds like it’s time to serve the coffee.” Zeke grabbed the bottle of amaretto pouring in an extra shot in several of the mugs then moving them to the trolley earmarked for the four unwitting lovebirds.

“Cupid’s favorite potion,” the dark-haired matchmaker concurred with a grin.

Pete pushed through the kitchen doors with reinvigorated excitement hoping to see that Alan and Josh had taken the empty seats closest to their intended—well, his—well, their—intended for them.

“Oh, come on!” he blurted aloud seeing the newest seating arrangement. Galen had taken the far seat next to Misha. Josh was by the gorilla and Miriam had moved to the end of the table next to him. What is with those two being side-by-side all night, Pete couldn’t help but shake his head. Across from her, Alan was at least where he could see and admire the beautiful healer. Maybe more tempting that way, Pete hoped. Both chairs next to Alan were empty with Jed taking the end seat across from the chimpanzee. Alan opened his mouth to explain but Burke held up his hand saying, “I don’t even want to know.”

Zeke and Pete passed out the crème brûlées with amaretto coffee topped with whipped cream and shaved dark chocolate. Misha received the Sticky Honey Garlic Beef which he welcomed with an appreciative growl of anticipation. They claimed the empty chairs next to their respective best friends. The young major resigned himself that a greater power must be at work foiling his efforts and settled in to enjoy some laughs with his commander. The year and a half they had spent on the run from Urko had drained away any enjoyment of just living as the fight for survival claimed every conscious thought. Except that their friends now included winged humans and apes, it was like being back home again. Burke was reminded that Virdon was a great friend before they depended on one another to see the next sunrise. It was good to rediscover that simple truth.

At the far end of the table, their other friend and fugitive started to push himself back from the table with a satisfied moan. Misha noted that the chimpanzee was a little wobbly with drink, so he attempted to help slide the chair back. The over exertion of his superior strength abetted by a copious quantity of alcohol caused the chair to tip over. Galen yelped as his head contacted the floor with a bang. Seeing the blood pooling behind the chimpanzee’s head, Miriam leapt from her seat eyeing the clean napkins on the trolley behind Burke. Seeing his friend sprawled on the floor, Alan sprang up to race to his side. The healer and the starship commander ran smack into one another at the head of the table, Alan’s warm hands at Miriam’s trim waist; the healer’s friendly fingers spread across the astronaut’s broad chest. Burke held his breath expectantly as the two set the emergency aside momentarily to soak in the situation, eyes locked and waiting to see what the other might do.

“A little help here,” Jed’s take-charge voice cracked through the frozen moment and movement resumed. Miriam joined the ginger-haired angel on the floor next to their patient while everyone else stared down at him from above.

Galen groggily opened his eyes and blinked slowly as Alan, Pete, Misha, Zeke, and Josh came into view. A reassuring hand pressed against his shoulder when he attempted to sit up.

“We need to get you down to the medical center. That cut on the back of your head needs treatment,” Jed informed him.

“No… ‘m fine…” Galen droned lazily. “Isss nothin’. Don’t need trea’ment. Pete calls this a mountain made by a mole.”

“Yeah, that’s what I call it,” his friend responded affectionately, “but this time Jed’s not exaggerating the situation. You’ve earned yourself an all-expense paid trip to the medical center.”

“I’ll come, too,” Miriam offered.

“No. As Chief Healer I think I can handle a simple head lac especially on a very relaxed chimpanzee,” the angel overruled her with a grin. “Stay.”

After getting the profuse bleeding of the head wound under control, Jed and Misha disentangled Galen from his chair, and pulled the chimpanzee from the floor to escort him down to the clinic.

“Do not worry over your friend,” Misha told Burke and Virdon. “I will get him safely to his bed.”

As the door to the restaurant swung closed, Josh had a momentary look of longing as Jed disappeared, his arm wrapped around Galen on one side with the gorilla holding the weaving chimpanzee on the other. He toed the wood floor awkwardly before commenting, “My workstation is just three floors up. I got some ideas from us talking tonight. Think I’ll go run some final diagnostics and see what I need to adjust before the final tests on the hovercraft tomorrow. Good night, everyone.” He waved absently as he left, head down, his hands tucked into his pockets.

The remaining four quietly cleaned the blood from the floor and moved the table remnants to the trolley.

“Hey,” Burke rubbed absently at a cut on the corner of his mouth saying, “Miriam, Al, just relax a little while. There’s no rush. Zeke and I need to clean up in the kitchen. Take your time,” Pete encouraged, gathering up the bloodied rags and followed as Zeke pushed the trolley away. They disappeared through the double doors.

Miriam ran her tongue along her lips before turning to Alan with an approachable smile. She looked around the dining room and wondered aloud, “Maybe I should help Pete and Zeke clean up.”

Alan smacked his lips with a knowing grin. He witnessed Burke’s sexual exploits for years. He was hoping that this one might stick. “Honestly, I think they’d rather be alone. C’mon,” he nodded his head toward the door. “We can share an elevator.”

“As long as I get to push some buttons,” she wickedly agreed.

Alan’s neck flushed red. He clasped his hands at his back and fell into step with the healer as they made their way out of the restaurant. He paused to punch the lock device on the door with a glance back at the kitchen before pulling the door shut.

“Smooth, Al. Very smooth,” Pete shook his head as he watched with one eye at the thin slit between the swinging doors.

“Hey, how did you say it? At least you got ‘em outta their cars,” Zeke rubbed at Pete’s back.

“Didn’t make much progress with Jed and Josh though. We’ll have just the two of them over after we get back from Kirtland. Play cards or something. It’ll happen,” Pete was confident.

“Oh, it will happen,” Zeke promised as he slid his hands down to Pete’s waist, along his hips, finding skin under his shirt. With his head buried in his neck, he pulled the handsome chef gently against his body exploring his chest under the fabric, his fingers rubbing along the defined muscles, his thumbs tracing circles around his nipples. He pressed upward against the shirt until the first button popped open. Zeke’s tongue darted into his ear whispering, “What about getting outta these clothes?”

Pete dropped his head back against Zeke’s shoulder, his breath growing thick. He reached behind him to lock his hands on the angel’s tight ass and pushed back into Zekes embrace. “Hmmm—Never did it—in an—Alban kitchen before.”

“These tight pants,” Zeke breathily observed as he wrapped one arm diagonally across Pete’s torso, lowered one hand to the waist band, then flipped the button free from its clasp, allowing the zipper to slide open as his hand moved downward, “are no longer a problem.” He dropped his mouth onto Pete’s beginning the first of their after-dinner courses.

Felix arrived promptly at 7AM. He hesitated only a moment before swinging open the door of Mushab Mista hoping for the best. The dining room was neat and orderly. He was greeted with a fresh scent with hints of rose and lavender. More importantly, the lights flickered on as he stepped into the room verifying that power had been restored. The old man smiled as he closed the door then strolled toward his kitchen.

He had enjoyed his night off; felt relaxed and ready for a new day. Pete’s suggestion about The Chef’s Table was perfect. Keturah had been pleased, very pleased. He didn’t want to admit to the stranger who claimed to fall from the skies a millennium out of place that he had flippantly described another concept from the past that had been lost in time. He worked out the meaning, and arranged a table through one of his friends, leading to a wonderful meal along with a pleasurable discourse with his fellow chef. Both he and his wife enjoyed the change of cuisine. He realized he had allowed himself to grow a bit stale in his exploration of taste alternatives. He planned to institute The Chef’s Table in Mushab Mista. He expected it to become quite popular.

As much as Pete minimized his skills in the kitchen, he hoped to convince the young man to consider sharing more of his knowledge and honing his natural instincts toward the culinary arts. It was a very small community, and they could use a new set of hands on a paring knife. That and in the short time he had known him, he had become very fond of Peter Burke, even if he did say things he didn’t always understand.

He pushed through the swinging doors with his eyes closed a little fearful of disappointment. He chuckled to himself warmed by the sight of a spotless kitchen. He should have known better. A true chef always took care of his kitchen. His wrinkled face tilted. He moved to the long preparation table where something caught his eye—something caught between the table surface and the wall. He pulled at the clear quill jutting from the crease managing to extract a brown feather the shade of cinnamon. Now how did that get there? He only had two angels who worked for him regularly, one with light-colored wings, the other jet black.

He shrugged. He tossed the feather into the servitor as he continued into his office. Lunch service began in a few hours.

Time to get back to work.

END