Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, Slick? - Lisa, Duncan's Twin

“Hey, Slick!”

Looking up from his motorcycle engine, Jim smiled. “Hey, yourself, Chief!”

“Whatcha doing?” Blair asked, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other.

“Polishing my chrome.”

Snickering, Blair asked, “Think maybe I can get my chrome polished later?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jim said, standing and stepping closer, leaning intimately into Blair’s personal space. “We could go upstairs right now and I could show you the way I spit shine.”

Grinning, Blair leaned even closer, inches from Jim, and tilted his head up. “Promise?”

“After dinner, Sandburg, your ass is mine!”

“What about for dinner?” Blair asked, turning serious.

“Well, the steaks are marinating and I picked up the cheesecake from the bakery,” Jim said, carefully wiping his hands on a rag and picking up his tools.

“Cool! So, what time are they gonna be here?”

“Around six.”

Looking at his watch, Blair noted that it was just after five, mentally calculating how long it would take him to prepare the potatoes and get everything else ready.

“Meet ya upstairs,” Blair called as he headed up to their loft, leaving Jim smiling at his back.

***

“Quit pacing!”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have to be so nervous; you’ve met Smokey and Shooter before,” Jim said, caressing Blair’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t exactly under ideal circumstances,” Blair said, leaning against Jim’s chest, a welcome presence and comfort.

“Don’t worry, okay? They agreed to come, no hesitation. They know about us, we know about them.” Blair gaped. “Dinner will be fine,” Jim assured even as he heard an almost identical conversation in the stairwell. Smokey was assuring Shooter that everything was going to be okay.

Grinning, Jim stepped to the door but waited until Smokey knocked before opening the loft door.

“Slick!”

Smokey pulled Jim into a fierce bear hug, which Jim returned as best he could, and they clapped each other on the back. Shooter joined in a second later and they laughed, and it seemed like old times, especially to Jim.

Standing to the side, watching Jim with his biker friends, Blair felt a pang of fear tinged with a touch of guilt. Jim had given up being a Panteras Del Diablo when he’d fallen in love with Blair. There had been no room in the biker lifestyle for Blair or an open homosexual relationship, so Jim had turned in his patch and devoted himself to Blair.

This was the first time Jim had seen any of the bikers outside of the clubhouse since the day he left, a week ago, except for delivering the dinner invitation to Smokey at the auto body shop where he worked. In two weeks, Jim would be returning to the clubhouse for the Memorial Day party which, as a friend of the club, he could attend, but this was different. This was the Panteras in their home.

Shaken out of his musings, Blair heard Jim say, “I’m gonna go check out Shooter’s bike, Chief.”

Blair barely had time to mumble his acknowledgement before the loft door closed behind Jim. Stunned, Blair stood there staring at the door for a half second before it opened again and Jim was back, kissing him deeply.

“Thank you,” Jim whispered against Blair’s lips and was gone again.

Grinning, Blair finished setting the table, his love for Jim filling his heart.

***

“And then Slick said ‘piss on you’, and then he did!!”

“No shit!”

“Serious as a fucking heart attack!” Smokey responded, then glanced at Blair. “Oh, sorry.”

Shrugging, Blair smiled and answered, “Don’t fucking mind me.”

Everyone laughed, then Jim added, “Yeah, Blair can out cuss all of us, and in at least six different languages!”

Another round of laughter filled the loft.

Blair passed the scalloped potatoes to Shooter, his eyes on Jim, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Bite me, Slick.”

“Later, Chief.”

Smokey and Shooter grinned at each other.

“What?” Jim asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Nothing,” Smokey answered. “Y’all are just so...”

“Domestic,” Shooter supplied.

“Domestic?” Jim questioned.

“Yeah, domestic. Nothing wrong with it. It’s nice,” Smokey said, taking a drink of his beer.

They ate a little more, complimented Blair on his potatoes.

“So,” Blair said, curious, “tell me more about Slick’s adventures!”

Laughing, Jim held up his hands. “Now just a minute—”

Butting in, Smokey started up again. “There was this time we were in Reno...”

***

Jim quickly did the dishes while Blair made coffee and cut the cheesecake. Smokey and Shooter where enjoying the view from the balcony, standing close together, sharing each other’s space.

“Here we go,” Blair said, bringing over the dessert and plates. He returned to the kitchen for the coffee and the mugs and set them on the table, pouring the steaming drink. “Bring the sugar, babe,” Blair called to Jim, the endearment slipping out.

“And the cream, ‘babe’,” Smokey teased.

“I got your cream, smart ass,” Shooter said, slapping Smokey on the ass before helping himself to a piece of cheesecake.

Jim brought the sugar bowl over to the coffee table, and kissed Blair on the cheek. “And I got your sugar, Sugar.”

They finished their dessert and coffee, and made noises like they were planning to leave, when Jim got up and went to the balcony doors. Looking up at the sky and sniffing the air, Jim closed the balcony doors and said, “Looks like you guys might be staying a while longer.”

“Why?” Shooter asked.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain.”

Just then the heaven’s opened and it began to rain, a light mist at first, which continued to strengthen with each passing minute.

“Guess it’s time for more cheesecake,” Shooter said, helping himself to another piece.

“Hey, Smokey, how’d you meet Jim anyway?”

“Chief, you don’t want to know about that.”

Ignoring Jim again, Smokey started, “Well, there was this scrawny kid...”

***

They demolished the cheesecake and Blair was contemplating a second pot of coffee when the rain finally tapered off.

“Looks like it’s letting up,” Smokey said. “Guess it’s time to go.”

Nodding reluctantly, Jim stood up and grabbed their jackets.

“Kid, it was nice to get to know you. Keep this dude in line,” Shooter said, shaking Blair’s hand.

“I’ll try.”

Turning to Jim, Shooter said, “See ya Memorial Day.”

Jim nodded as they clasped hands, and then Shooter was out the door.

“You’re lucky, Slick,” Smokey said, reaching out to take Jim’s hand, and with a grin at Blair, Smokey followed Shooter out the door.

Closing the door behind his two friends, Jim looked at Blair and smirked. “I am a lucky son of a bitch.”

“And don’t you forget it, Slick!” And Blair took off running, hitting the stairs before Jim could lock the door and follow, and prove just what a lucky son of a bitch Blair was as well.

The end.

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Author’s Acknowledgements: I want to thank everybody who LOC-ed me about In This Life and requested sequels. Thanks to my slave driver, Mary, who wouldn’t let up. Well, I guess that’s a thanks! ;) Thanks to Patt and Amy who patiently waited (are you done yet?) for each new segment of the story so they could say ‘more, more’. Thanks to Diana for catching those nasty phrases and using the polishing stones on them.