A/N: So I have this theory that the reason Mike and Anders have so much trouble getting along (aside from the whole Anders slept with Val thing) is because, as the two oldest, they were once closer than the others. That said, I look at this story as, sort of, the beginnings of the cracks in their relationship, as it were.

Disclaimer: The Almighty Johnsons, sadly, does not belong to me. (Though perhaps it's a good thing because it would probably be a much angstier place if it did belong to me.) I'm just borrowing them for fun and not for profit.

Trapped

The house was still and quiet when Mike Johnson snuck in and if he was very lucky his little brothers would all be sleeping and he would be able to catch a couple of hours of shut eye himself before they were all up and stampeding through the house. They wouldn't have to know he had been out most of the night getting drunk...

Slowly he crept toward the stairs.

"Mike?"

A soft tired voice and Mike stifled a sigh. So close.

"Anders, what are you doing up?" he asked, fighting a swell of irritation and the ever present resentment. His brothers weren't to blame, he did know that but still it... it was hard.

Taking a deep breath he turned into the kitchen to face his kid brother.

Anders looked haggard and exhausted, his wavy blond hair tousled and his eyes bloodshot.

"Jesus, have you slept at all?"

"Can't sleep," Anders mumbled, slumped at the kitchen table. "When I sleep-"

Abruptly Anders cut himself off, not meeting his older brother's eyes, and Mike felt some of his irritation ebb.

Anders had nightmares. Always had, though lately with their mother's 'death' (resentment again and Mike tried not to choke on it. "I'm going to become a tree, Mike! I need the quiet.) they had gotten worse and when Mike wasn't in the house...

Mike swallowed down his guilt. This shouldn't be his responsibility, damnit!

"How about Ty and Axl? They get to bed all right?"

"Axl pitched a fit because you weren't there. Said you had promised to read him a story," Anders muttered, still not meeting Mike's eyes, and Mike felt another stab of guilt. He had promised Axl. He had forgotten.

"I'll make it up to him," he told Anders, meaning he would make it up to Anders as well but not saying it and trying his best not to think of the mental repercussions of not keeping his promise to a seven year old whose mother had just dropped suddenly out of his life. "And Ty?" he asked, pushing his youngest brother from his mind for the time being.

"Flunking Social Studies. You have to sign a note from his teacher," Anders informed him through a yawn, eyelids drooping.

Mike nodded. "Come on, you can't spend the night in the kitchen," he said, motioning for his brother to follow him. Once in the upstairs hallway Mike clapped Anders on the shoulder. "Get some sleep. I'm here now," he murmured and Anders nodded, too exhausted to even object that he hadn't been waiting for Mike and that he certainly didn't care if Mike was there or not.

Mike hid a smirk, one that wasn't entirely without affection, and gently shoved his brother in the direction of his bedroom.

"Mike?" Anders asked from his doorway, suddenly looking more awake and a little... worried?

"Yeah?" Mike questioned softly, just about to disappear into his own bedroom and Anders swallowed, looking strangely and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"You, uh... you're not going out again, right?" he asked quietly, blushing faintly and staring at the carpet rather than at Mike and Mike had to clear his throat before answering.

"No, I'm, uh, I'm in for the night," the elder said, touched affection for the moment overriding the ever present guilt and resentment.

"Good," Anders murmured, meeting his eyes gratefully for just an instant before ducking into his room and closing the door.

"Good," Mike repeated softly, staring at Anders' door for a few seconds, hollowness in his gut.

("I'm going to become a tree, Mike. It's either that or kill myself or kill my boys and then myself.")

- End.