Tap. Sizzle. Tap. Hiss. Tap.

He probably should have turned the burner down sooner. He stopped tapping the spatula against the side of the stove and grabbed the handle of the frying pan, tilting it up on one side to get a better angle. The batter was only just bubbling around the edges, but the other side was already a dark brown. It hissed again as the uncooked side hit the pan, and he frowned. Definitely too hot.

He turned the stove down even further and pressed the spatula on top of the batter, to flatten it out and make it cook more evenly. Or as evenly as it could on a too-hot pan. He wasn't used to electric stoves, but he supposed the gas company didn't come out this far.

The sound of a creak and the shuffle of feet against the floor made him smile, but he didn't turn around. Of course. They had strangely similar schedules.

There was a pause that must have been his company assessing the situation. He apparently came up short, because he finally inquired, "What are you doing?"

Hunter considered the pan carefully. "Making pancakes."

Silence.

He tilted the pan again and slid the spatula underneath the pancake, flipping it off onto the plate next to the stove. Reaching for the bowl, he traded the spatula for a spoon and asked, "You want?" Without waiting for an answer, he started pouring another one.

"You're making pancakes at two in the morning."

Hunter started tapping the spatula against the stove again. "Yep."

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry." The pan wasn't cooling off that quickly, but it was enough to keep this one from burning. "Get a plate."

Without a word, his visitor padded across the kitchen to extract a second plate. Entering Hunter's range of vision, he came over and deposited the plate next to the stove. "I didn't know you could cook," he remarked, hitching one hip up against the counter.

"It's a mix." Hunter tapped the box with the spatula for emphasis. "Don't get excited."

There was no answer. He looked up from the stove for the first time, smirking as he got a good look at what had only been a black blur out of the corner of his eye. "Nice t-shirt."

Cam folded his arms, covering up the words "killer coding ninja monkeys do exist." Red slitted simian eyes were still visible above his crossed arms, and he looked a little defensive. "A friend gave it to me."

Yeah, and he hadn't expected Cam to wear it at all. Let alone sleep in it. "Cool friend," he offered, pressing the second side of the pancake against the pan. It didn't hiss, but he gave it another minute anyway.

"Modest, too," Cam muttered.

Hunter just grinned, reaching for the empty plate. "I doubt that."

Cam opened a drawer and traded him silverware for the plate, but not without a raised eyebrow for its contents. "These pancakes are huge," he remarked, not as though it mattered.

"It's a small pan," Hunter countered. "Might as well use all of it."

He leaned back against the counter, cutting into his pancake with the fork and watching Cam covertly. The Green--well, the former Green Ranger didn't seem to give the food a second thought. He just took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, as though it was perfectly normal to wake up in the middle of the night and find someone cooking in the kitchen. Someone who just happened to care enough to feed you, at that.

On the other hand, maybe Hunter was the one who was intruding. Between the rescued ninjas and the suddenly displaced Thunders, it had gotten pretty crowded around here pretty quickly. Some of the students and teachers were actually supposed to be on site, but there wasn't any place for them to live anymore. The majority of them belonged at other academies, which unfortunately were in a state similar to this one.

Cam had yet to complain--at least in Hunter's hearing--about the sudden crowd. Was he used to it? Not anymore, certainly. But he had lived at the Academy before that, hadn't he? Growing up with ninjas... Hunter wondered why they had never compared notes before.

"Why are you really up?" Cam asked, and Hunter realized abruptly that Cam had been studying him as closely as he had been studying Cam.

He glanced over at the counter beside Cam, lifting his chin without a word.

Cam looked down, frowned a little. He tilted his head to read the card that had been tossed there, and his frown deepened. "Factory Blue?"

"He told Blake to give it to me."

"He?" Cam repeated. "Roger Hanna, you mean?"

Well, wasn't that interesting. He really did pay attention when they talked about motocross. "Yeah," Hunter agreed, sawing off another piece of his pancake. "Roger Hanna."

Cam considered that information for a moment, then asked the question Hunter had been dreading. He had already fought with Blake over it--really fought, and it wasn't an argument he cared to rehash. "Why didn't you test?"

"I dunno," Hunter muttered, avoiding Cam's gaze. But he couldn't say nothing, not when he'd practically brought it up himself. "I guess... some reasons that don't matter, now. Some that still do."

"Rangering?" Cam suggested.

"That was part of it," he said uncomfortably. "For Blake, too--we both knew we were needed here."

"Lothor's gone," Cam reminded him. "The Power's dormant. There's nothing keeping you here if you want to go."

Nothing? Yeah, thanks. That was really reassuring. He just shrugged, spearing part of his pancake and reaching out to turn the stove back on. Good to know he could just pick up and leave without anyone missing him.

"Is it Sensei Omino?" Cam asked after a moment. "The teaching position he offered you?"

"Sort of." He made the mistake of catching Cam's eye, and he caved. "It's just--I've been trying to make ends meet for months now, right? Without Kelly, we wouldn't have made it. We definitely would have had to give up racing.

"Now, all of a sudden, it's like I can have anything I want." A factory ride, or his old school. A racing career, or a position as head teacher. The future he'd always wanted, or the past he was still a part of...

And then, of course, there was Cam.

Cam, who would never follow him if he ended up on the national racing circuit. Cam, who probably wouldn't even attend a race that wasn't in Blue Bay Harbor. And what about the other ninja academies? Would Cam visit them, if he had friends there? If someone invited him?

"I can't have everything," he said with a sigh. "And sometimes that's almost as frustrating as having nothing."

"Almost," Cam echoed, but his tone disagreed.

"When you have nothing you have no choice," Hunter said, tapping his fork against his plate. "So if you're unhappy, it's not your fault, right? But when you can have whatever you want... what if you pick the wrong thing? Then if you're unhappy, it is your fault."

"We're all responsible for our state of mind, no matter what the circumstances," Cam informed him, not like he meant it but like it was just one of those things he knew he was supposed to say.

Hunter shook his head, setting his plate down and reaching for the batter bowl. "It wouldn't kill you to take a night off from being the sensei's son, you know."

Cam didn't answer, just watched as Hunter poured another generous helping of batter into the pan. It didn't hiss this time, which was a good sign. He lifted the spatula absently, about to tap it against the stove when he caught himself.

"Do you have any jam?" he asked, setting the spatula down again.

Without a word, Cam went over to the refrigerator. A moment later, he set a glass jar on the counter and gave it a push in Hunter's direction. Hunter caught if before it could hit the stovetop, and he couldn't help an amused glance in Cam's direction. "Raspberry, huh?"

Cam rolled his eyes, leaning back against the counter. "Sometimes a color is just a color," he informed Hunter.

Hunter shook his head, sticking his fork in the jar and dripping jam across the top of the pancake. Cam watched, and Hunter could feel his skepticism clear across the distance between them. He didn't bother to defend his technique. Cam must have improvised plenty of odd breakfasts himself.

The jam sizzled the instant he turned it over, and he considered it dispassionately. Probably should have asked Cam if he wanted a plain one first. The next few pancakes were going to be raspberry flavored whether he added it or not.

"You want jam?" he asked, somewhat belatedly.

He saw Cam shrug out of the corner of his eye. "Sure. Why not."

"Because it's weird?" Hunter suggested, to cover his surprise. He had expected at least a token protest.

"Hunter. My mother named me after myself." Cam sounded genuinely amused--not annoyed, not snarky, just amused. "On a weirdness scale of one to ten, jam pancakes rate maybe a point five."

Hunter snorted. "No lie," he admitted.

They stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, waiting on the pancakes. Hunter offered the first one to Cam, and though he took it he set the plate down on the counter without tasting it. "Gonna wait till I prove it's edible?" Hunter suggested, pouring the rest of the batter into the pan.

He could hear the smile in Cam's voice. "Something like that."

The jam did burn onto the pan, which tended to make the second pancake a little messier than the first. But he knew from experience that it didn't interfere with the taste, and appearances weren't everything. Cam picked up his fork when Hunter did, though whether out of honest skepticism or actual politeness it was hard to tell.

First bite? No reaction. Cam was way too good at that Mr. Spock expression of his. He just chewed thoughtfully, staring at the stove as like he was thinking about something else entirely. When he took another bite and still said nothing, Hunter gave up.

"Well?" he demanded.

Cam gave him a surprised look. "What?"

"How is it?"

"The pancake?" Cam looked at it as though he had just noticed what he was eating. "It's pretty good. Thanks."

Hunter nodded, somewhat mollified. Setting his plate down, he put his hands behind him and boosted himself onto the counter. The kitchen was too small for chairs, and it had been a long day. He really hadn't slept yet, either. He had tried. But there was just too much on his mind.

"Are you really considering this teaching position?" Cam asked suddenly.

Hunter raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't think I can do it?"

"Surprised you'd want to," Cam countered. "People skills aren't exactly a priority for you."

"Look who's talking," Hunter retorted. "What are you gonna do? Go back to being your dad's assistant?"

Cam didn't rise to the bait. "I'm not saying you couldn't do it," he insisted. "I'm just saying, someone asked you to teach. No one asked you to do motocross. Maybe you should do what you're going to do anyway and get paid for it, instead of trying to fit it in around something else."

"Like you?" Hunter inquired. "Are you doing what you want to do? Or are you just fitting it in whenever your father can spare you for a few hours?"

Cam studied his plate with more attention than it deserved as he cut off another piece of pancake. "I have a position here as long as I want it," he said evasively. "I'm not ready to walk away from that."

"You could have a position anywhere." The words were out before he thought about them--he had meant to press his point, ask if Cam really wanted to be his father's helper forever. But instead what came out was, "Any of the academies would take you on. Samurai teachers aren't so easy to find."

Cam just shook his head. "I'm not a teacher any more than you are. And I've only been a samurai for a few months myself--I still have plenty to learn."

"Being a teacher doesn't mean you know everything," Hunter informed him. "Sensei Omino would laugh in my face if I told him I didn't have anything left to learn."

"Let me get this straight," Cam said. "You think I should teach--just not here. Is that what you're getting at?"

Hunter hesitated. That wasn't what he'd been trying to say... but he wasn't sure he could deny it, either. "I'm just saying," he answered, stabbing his pancake harder than was strictly necessary. "You could teach, if you wanted to. And you could do it anywhere."

With a deceptive casualness, Cam inquired, "Like at the Thunder Ninja Academy?"

Hunter shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and he wondered if Cam was actually thinking about it. Nothing would make him agree to be head teacher faster, not that he would admit it to anyone--least of all to Cam himself. But the idea of starting over somewhere... together...

"I couldn't do that to Dad," Cam said finally.

Right. Obviously. He didn't really want Cam there anyway; he was just tired and it was late. Plus Cam was being more friendly than usual, and on top of the whole t-shirt thing... he was just getting sappy, was all. It was hard to accept that their time as Rangers was really over. That maybe their time--doing whatever they were doing, was over.

Dating? They were dating. Kind of. They went on dates, anyway. They did things together that were just the two of them. Of course, so did Blake and Tori, and they didn't call it dating. They just "hung out."

"Maybe you're right," Cam mused, startling Hunter out of his thoughts. "Maybe this isn't what I want to be doing."

He didn't sound like he was done, but he didn't say anything else. Hunter made an effort to participate, pointing out, "You're as good at your nerdy hobbies as I am at my cool ones. No reason you couldn't make a living at it."

Cam grimaced at him, an unappreciative look that nonetheless acknowledged his remark. "True, but I don't think the computer industry can offer much that compares to zord upgrades."

"So, go private. You'll have a dozen patents by the time you're thirty."

Cam was quiet for a moment. "You know," he said at last, "We've been through trauma and major upheaval in the last forty-eight hours. All of it coming at the end of a period of prolonged stress. Anyone on the outside would tell us not to make life-altering decisions for a few weeks, at least."

"We don't have a few weeks," Hunter pointed out. "The Wind Academy's already put out the call for new students, right? Sensei Omino's not gonna be far behind."

"That's what bothers me," Cam admitted. "As teachers, we have to commit to at least a year at a time. Maybe I don't know what I want right now... but I'm not sure I want to wait a year to decide, either."

"I hear you," Hunter agreed, setting his empty plate down on the counter beside him. "A year's a long time."

Cam turned the last piece of his pancake upside down and used it to mop up the remaining jam on his plate. "Good pancakes," he remarked. He put the last bite in his mouth and dropped his fork back on the plate, glancing over at the sink.

"Just leave it," Hunter offered without thinking. "I'll do 'em later."

"Traditionally," Cam countered, picking up Hunter's plate and stacking it on top of his, "I think the person who doesn't cook is supposed to clean."

Hunter shrugged, not about to stop him. "If you say so."

He watched Cam wash the dishes, half-tempted to go over and dry for him. But that would be insanely domestic, and there was no need to get carried away. He felt weird enough already, sitting here in the kitchen with his sometimes-date, discussing the future while at the same time carefully avoiding any mention of "us."

Was there even an "us"? Maybe there was when it was convenient, but they certainly didn't have any obligation to each other. Sometimes he wondered if Cam only went out with him because he was there. Maybe Cam was as eager to start over as he was. Alone.

He looked over at the business card on the counter. He should call that number. He really should. He could take Roger Hanna up on his offer, see what it was like to ride a factory bike--maybe catch up to his little bro. He couldn't deny that the thought of Blake leaving was painful. The possibility of separation had helped fuel their earlier argument over Hunter's refusal to test, but like he had told Cam... some of those reasons were still valid.

"I'll be better next season," he said abruptly. He wasn't sure he had said it aloud until Cam turned around, plate in one hand and a dishtowel in the other.

"Better at what?"

"Motocross. It's not like Factory Blue is going anywhere, right? If they want me this year, they're not gonna turn me down next year."

Cam seemed to consider that as he set the dry plate down and reached for the second one. He barely lifted his eyes from the dishtowel in his hands. "Seems unlikely," he agreed at last.

"So maybe I will give this teaching thing a try, after all. I mean..." He couldn't help grinning. "Someone taught me, right? How hard can it be?"

Cam's mouth quirked, but he turned to put the plates away and the rest of his expression was hidden. "You'd put motocross on hold that long?" he asked over his shoulder. "Just because Sensei Omino asked you to?"

Like he was doing it for Sensei. "I'm still gonna race," he informed Cam. "I'm just saying... maybe you're right. Maybe we all need some time."

Cam refrained from mentioning Blake, and Hunter found himself relaxing as he nodded slowly. "I really do feel like I owe my dad some time, after everything that's happened," he admitted. "He's been through a lot, and I... well, we haven't exactly been there for each other, lately.

"Maybe teaching isn't my dream job," Cam added ruefully, "but I know this place, and I know the life. I wouldn't mind seeing it from the other side for a while."

"Yeah?" Hunter risked a smile. "Gonna give it a year, after all?"

"Hey, if you can do it--" Cam raked his gaze across Hunter, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hunter demanded, trying--unsuccessfully--to glare at him. "I could be a great teacher!"

"So could I," Cam replied, straight-faced. "Brick-throwing and all."

Hunter chuckled, that day flashing through his mind with unmistakable clarity. "So, the first student who can't break the block? You gonna throw it at them like you did with Dustin?"

"Save me from more students like Dustin," Cam said, a little too emphatically. "I'm not sure I could handle that. Maybe dad will let me do something other than novice training."

"You really should think about transferring," Hunter teased. "Bet there's at least one head teacher who'd be easy to negotiate with."

"Yeah, thanks," Cam said dryly. "Strings attached, I'm sure."

"I said 'negotiate,' not 'bribe.' I'm very sympathetic."

Cam snorted. "I can just imagine. Clearly this is going to be a recurring argument."

If that was a promise, then Hunter was all for it. "A year?" he suggested, holding out his hand. "To teach, not to argue," he added, catching sight of Cam's expression.

Cam clasped his hand and hooked his fingers around Hunter's before letting go. "A year," he agreed.

Hunter sighed inwardly, more relieved than he could justify even to himself. Probably because he'd finally made a decision. One that he could live with and defend to others, even. The food and the company hadn't hurt, either.

Maybe he'd be able to sleep after all.