This, Mohinder thinks, qualifies as their first fight. "I am not entirely incompetent," he tells Matt when he comes home. "I have managed to survive quite well thus far, and as a matter of fact -- " he stops.

Matt looks up from the stove, a guilty expression on his face. "Um, you're early."

Raising an eyebrow, Mohinder leans against the counter. "I wasn't aware I had a schedule."

"Well, uh, you do," Matt nods firmly. "One that gives me enough time to clean this up."

"Clean what up?" Mohinder asks. His expression, he suspects, isn't nearly so innocent as it should be. He's never been quite good at that. "Oh, you mean the disaster zone which was once the kitchen?"

"I'm cooking," Matt says.

Mohinder surveys the cookbooks littering the table and the mess of bowls, spills, and utensils on the countertop. "Ah, that's what this is."

"Yes," Matt grins sheepishly, "that's what this is. This would be me attempting to cook dinner. For us."

"For us?" Mohinder frowns. "Where's Molly?" The worry strikes him almost immediately, a now ingrained habit for them both.

"Girl Scouts." Matt pulls the spoon from the pot. "Taste this," he says, holding it out.

Mohinder looks at him and Matt frowns. "Look, I said she was struggling, right? She needs a chance to be normal, Mohinder and normal is not us." He grins. "Though, I'm sure that telepaths and undercover professors will be the new normal any day now."

His grin wavers and he sighs. "Friends will be good for her. Trust me, Mohinder, she's lonely and she's scared. We can only do so much."

As much as it pains him to agree, Mohinder nods. "You checked -- " He grins when Matt rolls his eyes. "Naturally, you have."

"The girls in the troops are all daughters of cops, half the moms involved are cops." Matt smiles wryly. "Not to mention a District Attorney, two FBI and ATF agents, and a partridge in a pear tree. Anyone tries anything and they're going to be facing a whole lot of hardware."

He holds up the spoon. "Please?"

Mohinder grins and leans forward. "This won't poison me, I trust?"

"Dude, for real. I called your mother."

Mohinder freezes. "You what?"

Matt smirks. "I. Called. Your. Mom." He gestures to the pot behind him. "She is an amazing cook."

"Well, yes, she is," Mohinder says slowly. "I'm sorry, Matthew, but are you having me on?"

"Completely serious." Matt promises. "You can check the phone." His eyes are dancing with merriment when he adds, "She wants to meet me."

"Meet you?" Mohinder echoes. His voice might be a squeak. He's not going to admit to such, naturally, but it might be. "Really?"

"Uh huh." Matt nods. "I told her that's not going to be for a while. India's a little far to fly on a cop's salary, plus Molly's in school and we can't yank her out for that. Maybe over the spring break." He wiggles the spoon before Mohinder's mouth. "C'mon, Mohinder, open up. Don't make me do the Choo-Choo thing."

Mohinder obediently opens his mouth, tasting. He's aware of Matt watching him anxiously and smiles. "It's -- "

"What? It's what? Did I screw it up?" Matt frowns. "I did, didn't I? The connection on the phone wasn't good, I couldn't pick out some things, but we thought we got it -- "

Kissing Matt, Mohinder's learned, is the most effective method of shutting him up. The spoon clatters to the floor, forgotten , as Matt responds immediately.

They knock something else to the floor as Matt presses him back into the counter, fingers pushing their way beneath his shirts to warm skin.

Mohinder pushes slightly, nudging Matt backward. Turn, he thinks, and smiles into the kiss when Matt complies. There are certain advantages to a relationship with a telepath. His smile widens when Matt laughs.

"Just wait," Matt mumbles into the kiss, "we're not even naked yet."

Mohinder grins. You're assuming we will be.

Matt pulls back, smirking at him. "Dude, I nailed the cooking. We are so getting naked."

Mohinder nudges him back against the counter, stealing a kiss. "We will see."

The feeling of calloused fingertips skimming along his sides distracts him, those fingers then trace their way along his spine, stopping at the waistband of his pants.

"Yeah," Matt smiles confidently. "We will."

His smile falters and Mohinder needs no telepathy to know what he's thinking. "I can do this," he says quietly.

"You're in over your head, Mohinder," Matt argues. "We all are." Mohinder closes his eyes briefly at the real fear in Matt's voice. "You know it as much as I do."

"I've dealt with these people before," Mohinder insists. "It is dangerous, and I won't pretend that I'm not scared, but I do have an idea of what I am doing."

"Just -- " Matt sighs. "This started with me in a hospital bed," he says. "I don't want it to end with you in a morgue."

"Funny," Mohinder says. "I was just thinking the same of you."

"Yeah, I know, I totally stole it." Matt smiles quickly.

"Shameless," Mohinder accuses. "We will find our way through this, Matthew, I fully believe that and you must believe it as well." He tips his head, meeting Matt's gaze. "I'm counting on that belief."

"And I'm counting on you coming home," Matt says. "Don't make me explain your death to Molly."

Mohinder kisses him, taking his time with it. It's a comfort for them both and he finds that he especially needs it. You won't, he thinks and hopes that Matthew will not sense his fear.

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