Michael slumped against the side of his car, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans as he contemplated the old, battered trailer he'd been standing in front of for the last fifteen minutes.

What the hell was he even doing here?

Of all of the questionable things that he had done in his life, driving all the way down to Sandy Shores at two in the morning to explain to his psychotic best friend that he'd developed some strange addiction/obsession with cuddling him, absolutely took the cake.

He could count this as an act of sheer desperation, couldn't he? It had been the same vicious cycle for six insomnia filled nights now. He usually attempted to put himself to bed at a decent hour, but ended up wandering about the house at all hours of the night with an over active mind until he finally broke down and drowned himself in Whiskey then passed out on the couch.

It had all started a couple nights after Amanda took the kids and left him for that metro sexual, Yoga obsessed prick. Trevor showed up and quite literally banged down his front door demanding to know why he hadn't returned any of his calls. He ended up discovering Michael in the upstairs bathroom clinging to the outside rim of the toilet as he emptied every ounce of alcohol he consumed that night in a fit of depression and nerves into the bowl.

Trevor had waited patiently for him to finish from where he stood leaning on the door frame, watching with what Michael still swore was pure amusement. When he finally began to dry heave, strong tattooed arms locked around him and pulled his limp sobbing body up and into his room where he was unceremoniously tossed onto his bed.

What he hadn't counted on was waking up with someone's warm body pressed against his back, legs tangled with his. Hope surged inside of him at the thought that Amanda had somehow pulled her head out of her ass and decided to come back home after all. Amanda however, didn't have blood and dirt caked under her fingernails or stubble on her chin.

And last time he checked she never had morning wood.

He remembered being more confused than disturbed like any other typical straight man would have been if in the same situation. He couldn't remember a time where he'd gotten a better nights rest than he did that night with Trevor's limber body practically wrapped around him, thick boots digging into the sensitive skin of his calves. Although he had been itching to press him about what exactly had gone on that night, he knew it was probably best for his own sanity that it was left alone.

Maybe if he would have cleared all of that up before he wouldn't be standing in front of Trevor's place almost a week later like some lost puppy, trying to come up with a logical explanation as to why he needed wanted to share a bed with him.

"Fuckin' stalker." A familiar voice teased from behind him.

Shit.

He turned to see Trevor- of all god damned people- leaning against the other side of his car, crossed arms resting on the hood with smirk plastered on his face.

"Uh, hey T."

"You look like shit."

Michael grimaced. "Thanks a lot, prick."

"What brings you out of isolation?"

"Thought I'd stop by to see what you were up to." Michael choked out, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

Trevor's smirk widened. "Well how thoughtful of you to take the time out of your busy schedule filled with self loathing and over eating to check up on me."

"You've got to be the world's biggest asshole." Michael leaned over to shove Trevor's arms off of the hood of his car, ignoring the glare he got in return.

"Why don't you ask Amanda for her input on that one, Mikey boy? I'm sure she'd have an even better candidate."

"Fuck you." Michael spat venomously.

Trevor's eyebrow arched suggestively. "So thaaaaat's what you came here for."

"Oh, Jesus Christ." Michael pushed himself upright and slowly started toward Trevor's trailer. He didn't have the patience nor energy to engage in another little banter fest. With Trevor they always ended up spiraling out of control and it usually led to swinging fists, bloody noses and black eyes.

"Aw chill out, would ya sugar tits? I was only messin' around." Michael waved a hand dismissively and began to climb the steps. He stormed up behind him and grabbed his shoulder, yanking a startled Michael back and around to face him. Reflexively, Michael slammed a hand into his chest and shoved him away.

"Put your hands on me again and I'll fucking bash your head in!" He hissed through clenched teeth.

Trevor's lip curled up in a sneer at the outburst, nails digging into his palms as his fists clenched at his sides, eyes narrowing dangerously. He stared Michael down for a moment before taking a step back out of his personal space. "I know you didn't drive all the way down here for a fight." He murmured quietly. "You gonna tell me what the hell's got your panties wrenched up into your crack, or what?"

Michael's face softened and he squeezed his eyes shut, raking a hand through his hair frustratedly. "I didn't mean to...y'know. I just-dammit I'm tired. So fucking tired."

"Okay." Trevor leaned in a little, eyes boring into Michael's. "I'll put it another way. What. Did. You. Come. Here. For?"

Michael groaned low in his throat averting his gaze to the ground. How was he even supposed to put this?

'Trevor, I need you to sleep with me.'

'T, I need you in my bed so I can sleep.'

'I can't sleep without you-'

SMACK!

He winced a little when he felt the rough skin collide with his own, hand shooting up instantly to cup his stinging cheek.

"What the fuck was that for?" Michael exclaimed angrily.

"The next words out of that annoying, fucking mouth of yours better be an explanation Townley, or there's way more where that came from."

Michael swallowed hard. "I wanted to see if it'd be okay with you if I crashed here for a couple days."

Trevor stared at him incredulously. "You wanna stay here. With me."

"Yeah. House is empty, not much to do. I've been locked up in that place for days now and it's got me goin' kinda stir crazy. Could use a change of scenery."

"And a shit load of Z's. Maybe a shower or six." Trevor nudged him toward his trailer with his elbow. "Feel free, Mikey. Mi casa, Tu casa."

Michael snorted lightly at the remark about his personal hygiene. That one was certainly rich when it was coming from someone who walked around smelling like he'd bathed in the sewer half the time.

"I appreciate this, man."

"Yeah, yeah. Get the fuck in the house."