Simple Pleasures
Chloe started the countdown, as Ken entered the room with a platter of pastries. In less than five seconds, a blur of blonde and fur came zipping past him, and snatched up a cookie, with a blissful sigh.
"Oh, Ken! They're still warm! You should have told me you were planning to bake, I would have helped!" Michael practically purred as the cookie crumbled into his ever expectant mouth.
"If by 'helped' you meant 'eaten the cookie dough' you're right! That's why I didn't call you," Ken grinned, ruffling the boy's hair playfully.
The Irish boy pouted distastefully at him, and continued nibbling the cookie. Chloe sprawled himself back across the couch with a relaxed, ever so contented noise, and tuned out the conversation between the other two KB members.
"How's Free doing?"
"Honestly?" Michael bit his lip, brows knitting in anxiety, "not well at all. He's a bit worked up, every time he does his seven card spread, he seems to draw the same cards, and it's getting him into a bit of a knot, which isn't helping his recovery any…"
"Which cards?" Ken blinked, interestedly.
"The Fool, the High Priestess, the five of cups, the two, four, eight and nine of swords. I know that he seems to link the four of swords to me, no matter what spread he's doing, but I'm not sure what anything else really means…" Michael released his lip, finishing off the cookie in his hands.
"Leave it to Snow White to let cards prevent him from getting better," Chloe commented, off-handedly.
Michael frowned in his direction. "How often is Free wrong in predicting something bad to come?"
"He predicted Aya and I coming," Ken blinked.
"I reiterate: how often is Free wrong about something bad coming?" Michael restated, grinning and ducking away from Ken's hand.
"Oi, oi! We aren't all that bad! See if I bake you cookies anymore," Ken teased, causing the boy to attach to his waist.
"Okay, okay, so that was a bad prediction!" the fluff-clad boy nodded, grabbing a couple more cookies and disappearing upstairs.
He poked his head carefully into Free's room, before nudging his way in, and sitting on the side of the bed to stroke Free's face. Narrow eyes slowly opened, to watch him in silence, and Michael smiled.
"I brought you a cookie," he said, "I know you don't like them, but they're warm… they're better when they're warm. Some things just are."
Free gave him a small smile, and allowed Michael to feed him one of Ken's cookies, simply to keep the boy appeased. He watched as Michael moved to open the curtain, allowing a warm wash of sunlight to dance through his blonde hair, and to light Michael with a near angelic beauty.
"Are you well?" the white haired man asked, softly.
"Yes, I'm much better now that you're awake," Michael smiled a bit brighter, moving to sit on his bed again. "The others don't believe me when I say we have conversations, and when you sleep so often, and so long… Sometimes I start to believe that you're as quiet as they say, too… It makes me miss you."
Free reached out a hand to lightly place it over Michael's much smaller one, "There's no reason for you to miss me, little one, I'll always be here with you, whether I am asleep or not." Michael nodded a little, pulling off his fluffy coat.
It was midwinter, now, making flowers a nearly dead job to hold, which made it lucky for them that it was simply a cover. Snow adorned the sidewalks early that morning, but the busy traffic of London destroyed any trace of it by six am. But no traffic could dismiss the cold that penetrated the air, and left Michael frozen to the core earlier that morning when he made a run to the corner store to pick up some milk and medicine.
Water ran down the windows in glistening beads, the few remnants of the snow that had fallen earlier, though they were ignored by all but Michael, who paused to watch, and attempt to predict their ending points for a moment, before pulling out Free's prescription.
"You should take your pills before it gets too late," the Irish boy stated, offering a couple to the older man, who took them with another of the soft smiles he saved for Michael. He was offered a glass of water, as well, which he took gratefully, as he sat up to take his pills.
"Michael," Free started, then paused a little, glancing to one side at the cards on his bedside table.
"Yes?" the boy responded, finishing putting the lid on the pill bottle.
"I want you to be careful around me, from here on out, okay?" Free glanced at him. "No more heroics, like last time… I could have killed you. I could have killed you all."
Michael looked away, to the hardwood floors of Free's bedroom. "Promise me, Michael. Please."
"You protect me, Free, I don't need to be careful around you. I trust you. I'd trust you with anything, but my life above all else."
There was quiet between them for a moment, and Free reached to draw a card from his deck – to draw the four of swords. "It's not your life that I'm worried about taking, or damaging," Free said softly.
Michael looked up at him. "Don't be stupid," he shook his head, "you know that my heart is yours to do with as you please. Take or damage it all you like, it's still yours."
Free merely sighed, and set the card back on the top of the deck, laying himself down again. Blue-green eyes watched him sadly for a moment, before Michael lay himself down against Free. "Don't pull away from me, Free… I need you. I'll always need you."
The white haired man merely hugged Michael close. What the boy had yet to realize was that he was already putting the card's prediction into play.