A/N: This is my first fanfiction. Please be honest in the comments. Trouble in Paradise
Mike sat quietly, reviewing his case files on Bello. He was still dressed as 'Merciless Mike', having just gotten home. He leaned on his elbows, exhausted. It was only 11pm, but Mike needed a break. All day, Bello had Mike running back and forth all over the city, transporting guns and drugs.
He took a glass of water from the fridge and gulped it down, putting the glass in the sink, he smiled to himself, realizing it was Paul's turn on the chore wheel.
He recalled the memory fondly.
When he first got to Graceland, Paul made him do the chores…taking advantage of the rookie. After Eddie killed himself, Mike went through a dark time…Briggs helped him through it, and they soon started dating. It was Heaven on earth. Paradise… Until it started falling apart.
Paul Briggs walked into the kitchen, it was his turn on the chore wheel, and he was dreading the thought of work. It wasn't that he was lazy, it was just that he could get other, weaker-willed people to do it. He could be very seductive when he wanted to.
"Hey babe." Mike kissed Paul gently, "How are you?" Mike asked. Paul exhaled heavily, rubbing his eyes. This act would have to work.
"Just tired…" Paul yawned, just pretending to notice the dirty plates and silverware, "Mind washing the dishes for me?"
"Nah, I just got back from Bello." Mike said. Guess the act didn't work. Oh well. There were other, more effective ways of getting people to do things. Mike's air was cut off by a hand around his neck, pressing against his windpipe. A scream died in his throat as his head was slammed against the wall.
"Did you just say no to me?" Paul asked, "I'm your training officer, Mikey. Remember that." Mike shook his head frantically, trying to get air in his lungs.
"P-Paul…can't breathe…please, Paul…!" Mike croaked as his vision blurred. In a last-ditch attempt, he pulled at Paul's wrist, trying to loosen the iron grip. Paul released Mike. Mike slid to the ground, his back against the wall. He held his throat, coughing, looking up at Paul with fearful eyes. Paul crouched down next to him.
"I'm sorry, Mikey." Paul caressed Mike's cheek, "Guess I've been a little stressed lately. I must've just…snapped."
This wasn't the first time Paul had 'just snapped'. This wasn't first time it had happened. Paul had apologized and said it wouldn't happen again, but it did. Stuck woth radio silence from D.C., there was nothing he could do about Paul's abuse. Reporting it to local police would jeopardize over 2 years of undercover work…and get a lot of people killed.
Paul helped him up, "You alright?" he asked.
"I-I'm fine." Mike's voice shook. He sure as hell didn't look fine, "Don't worry about me. I love you."
"If you love me, then why haven't we had sex yet?" It was a regular argument. Paul wanted sex, Mike didn't. He was constantly scared because he knew, one day, Paul would cross the line.
"I'm just not ready." Mike exhaled and braced for a slap in the face, but Paul dropped the subject.
"I love you too, Mikey." Paul embraced Mike. Anyone watching, and maybe (deep down) even Mike, would know it was an attempt at control, "You gonna wash those dishes?" Paul narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Mike's every move. Mike distanced himself from Paul and nodded.
"O-of course. You get some rest."
"Be up soon, okay?" Paul asked, but they both knew it wasn't a question.
A/N: Thank you for reading. What'cha think?